#mama dag

[pelova4president]

Magic Euros II

Leah Williamson x Wife!Reader

Magic Euros I

summary~ Your kids are absolute menaces, but how could they not, they’re Williamson’s and are around your wife’s crazy teammates all the time.

Your kids are little monsters and there is nothing you could do about it. James seemed to be pretty sweet and shy but how older he got the more he acted like his naughty aunties. Alice really wasn’t any good from the moment she was born. Your daughter was just as naughty as Katie, Vic and Kyra. They tried to involve Alice in all their pranks in the hopes that no one would blame them but instead the innocent two year old.

There were times their plan would work and your daughter got put in time-out or nothing would happen because ‘you got no proof’. But other times, like when they had Alice to hide Lessi’s shoes, she told on them after you threatened to take the toddlers iPad away. “Alice! Why’d you have to tell on us?” Victoria crouched down to your daughter. “B-but iPad” the girl defended herself. You laughed at that and Kyra rolled her eyes annoyed. “Why did you bring an iPad addict into the world?” the Aussie sighed.

And while Alice was influenced by the bad kids, James loved his sweet auntie Lotte. They had a very special and cute bond. Lotte loved to babysit him whenever you had to make time for Alice’s swimming lessons. He always came back from Lotte’s house with so much to tell but is so tired he always falls asleep halfway through his story. The boy wanted to be just like her. He tried to play footie like her, wanted to cook like her and he even started to dress like her.

y/nwilliamson posted on their story

Beth and Viv loved to babysit them. They took the kids to all kinds of playgrounds and their dogs, Myle and Rona are their favourite. Myle was still very hyper and the mini Leah’s are too so they’d both end up asleep after a very busy day. Almost always James and Alice and up in Myle’s bed with Myle’s on the ground next to them.

Jamie and Al loved to watch their mummy play footie in the summer, the winter was less fun. You went to games as that is your job, you needed to be up to date and what better way to do that watching your wife play live. Taking the toddlers with you, you sat in the friends and family section. The kids were good almost the whole game. Well that was until it starting pouring down. The London weather decided to show up and everyone got absolutely soaked.

y/nwilliamson posted on their story

When the girls had to play friendlies in Portugal you took the kids with you. You would have a little vacation and free babysitters, why wouldn’t you go.

The flight to the sunny Portugal was hectic though. Arriving at the airport, James was asleep but the hyper girl you had in your arms definitely wasn’t. “Calm down Al, you’ll see your aunties in a bit.” Leah tried to calm her down but that only mad her more hyper. “Where’s auntie Vicky! And Kyky oh- and Katie and and Lessi?” she tried to wiggle her way out of your grasp. You put her on the ground and she ran around in search for the Arsenal girls.

“We should’ve just bought her that kidsbelt, that way she wouldn’t be running around like this.” Leah sighed already regretting the decision to bring the kids.

“Mommy, Mama! KyKy’s here!” you heard your little girl scream through the airport. “That’s awesome sweetie, can you find the others too?” you asked her, trying to distract her with something.

After a few minutes of Alice running around the airport in the hopes of getting her tired for the flight, she found the rest of the team. “Mama look! Auntie Vicky’s here too!” she dragged you to the Dutchie. “Oh god help me Vic, ze is al de hele dag zo en ze wordt maar niet moe” (Oh god help me Vic, she has been like this the whole day and she isn’t getting tired.) you hugged your friend. Vicky laughed at your tired state, “Dat had ik niet gedacht, je ziet er zo energiek uit!” (I wouldn’t of thought, you look so energetic!) she said sarcastically. You rolled your eyes at her and sighed.

You walked over to your wife and sleeping son. “Leah, i don’t know why we thought this was a good idea, Alice is already being a menace to society. Think of what she can do when she’s with those other devils for more than a few hours.” you whisper to her.

Lotte came walking over to the two of you. “How are the little monsters doing?” she asked looking at Alice who was being thrown into the air by Kyra. “Well one of the two is sleeping like an angel and the other is… well, not.” Leah told her. James woke up hearing his favourite auntie. “Lotte!” he said tiredly, wiping the sleep out of his eyes. “Hey grote jongen, you’re awake.” she took him out of the arms of your wife.

You tried to learn the kids some Dutch but that was hard since they were so young and they almost only spoke English. Vic, Viv and Lotte had tried to learn the kids some but it didn’t really stick. The only thing they really remembered was ‘stomkop’ which means stupid so it wasn’t really in your favour.

Walking into the plane, without kids since they chose their aunties over you and their other mom, you sat next to Leah. Kyra and Alice sat in front of you and Lotte and James next to you. You were not even off the ground when you heard the duo in front of you and your wife snore.

y/nwilliamson posted on their story

When the team finally landed both of your kids were awake. Leah took the suitcases and bags to the teambus and you kept your eyes on the kids. Vic placed Al on her big suitcase and rolled the toddler to the parking lot. She was trying to teach her some Dutch but her effort was futile. “So kleine, say ‘ik hou meer van tante Vic dan van mijn mama’s’” (So little one, say ‘i love auntie Vic more than my mommy’s’) the midfielder tried. But the only thing coming out of the toddlers mouth was some gibberish.

A blonde forward approached the girls, “You’ve had her for a while now, she needs some quality time with her favourite auntie now.” Alessia grabbed to girl from Victoria’s suitcase. “You love auntie Lessi more right Ali?” Alessia said tickling your daughter.

Walking into the bus the naughty toddler took Alessia’s Prada glasses and put them on. “Look! I’m auntie Less!” she said posing like Alessia. Katie looked over and began laughing. “She really does look like you now, face all serious. Alice you look just like grumpy Lessi!” the Irish woman commented.

alessiarusso99 posted on their story

Lina arrived later with her daughter Lo. Your kids loved to play together and try to trick Katie. Lo would tell Katie to walk her to the bathroom, where Alice and James would wait for her. “What can i help you with kid?” Katie asked the mini Lina. They would open the door and your kids attacked her. They threw water on her and the three of them ran away together.

“Lina Lina! Katie’s mad!” James ran towards the Swede. Lina would fake her confusion, “Why would Katie be angry pojke?”. The three kids looked at eachother, Alice pointed to Lo who had to explain everything.

Katie came running into the room with three buckets of water. “I’m gonna get ya!” she yelled chasing the screaming toddlers.

stinablackstenius posted on their story

leahwilliamsonn

liked by daniellevddonk and 318.827 others

chillin’ it out

comments

jillroord coolest kids out there 😎

lucybronze i’ll take the kids to the chillest place, next week they’re coming to barca

↳ keirawalsh i back that

lottewubbenmoy Jamie boy with the coolest sunnies

kyracooneyx yeahh the weirdooss

↳ victoriapelova you’re the biggest weirdo

alessiarusso99 ali looks too cute!!

↳ y/nwilliamson you out her in that dress and did her hair, how could she not

barcafemfam i love the arsenal family smm

W0s012 they’re literally mini Leah’s and y/n’s

When you got back from Portugal you went to dinner with your parents and Leah’s since they were in London for a few days. You had to leave the kids with Beth and Viv for the night but they didn’t mind, they loved kids.

Alice played with Myle and got her to play dead, well the toddler had to push her down to get her to play dead but it kind of worked. “Piew!” Alice yelled with her pistol fingers pointing at the puppy. “Myleee! You need to play dead! Lie downnn” she complained. The dog however had other plans and sprung on the little girl and started licking her face. “Bad doggy!” she giggled pushing Myle down on the couch and trying again. “Piew!” she yelled. Myle didn’t move a muscle so she just pushed the puppy down.

Viv saw the whole scene play out in front of her and laughed, having filmed the whole thing.

And while all of that was going on, James was vacuuming the couple’s house. “What’re you doing little guy?” Beth asked the boy. “Cleaning Auntie Viv and yours house!” he said excited. The vacuum wasn’t on but Beth didn’t have the heart to tell him that. “So sweet of you. Hard workers deserve a snack break right?” Beth ruffled his hair and placed a cookie in his hands.

viviannemiedema posted on their story

Keira and Lucy kept their promise and invited you, Leah and the kids to Barcelona. Keira drove to the airport to pick you up. Alice and James attacked Keira immediately. “Oh my god! Al, Jamie please, Auntie Kei still needs to drive us.” Leah took the kids off her bestfriend. “Well hello to you too.” the midfielder laughed.

Lucy awaited you at their door. “Lucy!” the kids yelled, running out of the car and into the defender’s arms. “Hey monsters!” she hugged them. “Silly Lucy, i’m not a monster.” James laughed at his auntie.

The kids got to see the Barcelona training ground and even got to watch a game. Ingrid and Mapi, who they already knew, were waiting for the kids. The kids ran onto the field and into the arms of the Barcelona couple. “We’ve missed you so much!” Ingrid yelled, picking both kids up and squeezing them. Mapi spun James around and played goalie when Alice was taking penalties. “You’re too good niña!” Mapi said picking your daughter up and placing her on her back and running around the field.

Leah and you always enjoy your time in Barcelona, the people there were like family and the city was beautiful. The weather was nice, well it mostly was and if it was raining it would clear up quickly.

Lucy and Keira made forts with the kids, danced with them in the rain, even though you said they shouldn’t because they’d get sick. And Lucy got James to hug a tree. “Trees deserve love too Jamie. It’s mean to kick them. You don’t like it when someone kicks you, go give the tree a hug.” the dark haired woman said after catching James kicking a tree in the park. “I’ll say sorry to the tree.” James said and ran through the park, giving the biggest hug as an apology. Lucy giggled at the scene in front of her. James really had a good heart and he did look like Lotte, like a lot.

lucybronze, keirawalsh

liked by aitanabonmati and 291.826 others

fun days with these kids

comments

lauren_hemp why is Jamie hugging a tree

ingrid_engen those samba’s are the cutest!

↳ marialeonn16 you bought them

↳ ingrid_engen they’re still cute though

victoriapelova why can they dance in the rain but i can’t?

↳ kyracooneyx yeah actually this is unfair

lj10 the coolest kids 😎

↳ lucybronze cooler than me?

↳ lj10 just a little bit

Coming back from the sunny Barcelona it was time for Alice’s first football training. James wasn’t really interested in football, only when auntie Lotte was playing. Alice loved to kick a ball around, she needed something to release all her energy.

Leah had been beyond excited to get her to play footie. They picked the shoes out together and bought her training kit. “You like these boots Ali?” Leah asked, picking out the shoes she liked the most. Alice just nodded. She wasn’t really interested in the boots, looking at the poster of one of her aunties in the store. “Look mummy, that’s auntie Lessi!” she pointed at the big poster next to the Adidas boots. “I want the same boots as Lessi!” the little girl insisted.

“Alice, that’s the wrong section. Look over here, you like these pink ones?” Leah said pointing towards the Nike boots. “No mummy! I want Lessi boots.” she stomped.

And that’s how your daughter came home with shiny silver Adidas boots.

Leah drove her to training, standing next to the field and watching your daughter play with other girls her age. Leah would never say it but seeing her little girl play football made her emotional. Alice was happy, making friends and even scoring. “She’s supposed to be a defender.” Leah sighed, hugging you from behind. “She’s an adidas girl and a striker but she plays football.” you said looking at your wife and kissing her on the lips. “You’re right, she’s a footballer.” Leah hummed.

leahwilliamsonn posted on their story

A/N not my best but i pulled through. I still have writers block though :(

[garycxjk]

Why most people don't get Europapa

So, Joost Klein's Europapa apparently is taking the world by storm. With its happy hardcore or gabber house tunes and beats and the silly music video, there's no denying that this song has a certain charm, though it also has its detractors.

The thing is, though, most people on both sides don't fully get the song.

To summarize the song, it's essentially about an orphan who travels around Europe to find himself. Those were in Joost's own words.

Europapa is about an orphan who travels throughout Europe (and beyond) to find himself and tell his story. At first, people don’t recognise him, but he goes on seizing any opportunity he gets to let himself be seen. Europapa is a tribute to my father. When bringing me up, he passed on to me an expansive view of the world.

Okay, but why does the song sound so silly? Well, that's something deliberate. I don't really know much about Joost Klein's music, but what I do know is that this is basically what most of his songs are. Silly, yet deep.

Okay, brief detour to give context to the rest of what I'm writing, but it's important to remember that Joost Klein basically became an orphan at a young age. He lost his father to cancer when he was 12, and a year later, his mother died as well. This essentially shaped his music. From what I can gather from the many YouTube comments, he always watched Eurovision with his parents, and told them that one day he'd be there on stage.

So, let's just talk about the elephant in the room. Some people call this European propaganda. However, just the first few lines clue you in that it isn't just some pro-EU propaganda.

Welcome to Europe Stay here until I die

In fact, there are several lines used that wouldn't sit right if it were pro-EU propaganda. Let's look at the second verse.

Ich bin in Deutschland Aber ich bin so allein

Which roughly translates to

I'm in Germany But I'm so lonely

The next lines, "Io sono in Italia / Maar toch doet het pijn" (first line Italian, second line Dutch), which translates to "I'm in Italy / But I still feel pain".

Essentially, the entire song is him trying to let go of his past, to let go of his grief. That's essentially what the burning house and the windmill represent at the end, finally moving on from the past.

And that's essentially what the entire song is about. The entire song sounds like it's stuck in the '90s and early noughties. Naturally the most glaring part is the music style. Back in the '90s, happy hardcore and gabber house was really big, especially in the Netherlands. The way people dance back then and dressed when they did can be seen in the scene with Paul Elstak. Then there's the Gameboy Advance, which came out in the early 2000s.

Another cool thing is a reference to New Kids, a Dutch comedy show from 2007, when someone says "Welkom in Europa jongen!" ("Welcome in Europe boy!"). On the television screen, you can see Gerrie van Boven, played by Tim Haars, a character from New Kids.

But it isn't just a throwback. It's all being done deliberate. Something that gets lost in translation is the text. The rhymes work, however, to a Dutch person, it sounds a bit... childish. Very simple, at the very least. But I think that even that is done deliberately. It sounds like a child has been writing these lines, but I think that's the point of the song. It's supposed to sound like a child has been writing these lines.

The entire song is about the protagonist being stuck in the past, being stuck in his grief. It's why there's a disconnect between the text and the melody. Sure, it's a celebration of Europe, of Eurovision. Joost Klein genuinely loves Eurovision. However, it's also essentially him saying, this is me closing another chapter in my life.

Let's take a look at the outro of the song.

Op kruistocht in m'n spijkerbroek, lopend door de velden M'n papa en m'n mama zijn voor altijd mijn helden Aan het einde van de dag zijn we allemaal mensen M'n vader zei me ooit: "Het is een wereld zonder grenzen" Regen op het raam en ik stond huilend bij het venster Veel te vroeg duister, het is winter in de lente "Ik mis je elke dag", is wat ik stiekempjes fluister Zie je nou wel, pa? Ik heb naar je geluisterd

This... seems quite long, doesn't it? Well, that's because that's the full outro. What most hear during the video clip is this:

Aan het einde van de dag zijn we allemaal mensen M'n vader zei me ooit: "Het is een wereld zonder grenzen" "Ik mis je elke dag", is wat ik stiekempjes fluister Zie je nou wel, pa? Ik heb naar je geluisterd

Let's translate the full lyrics. I'll put the translations of the lyrics in the music video in bold and italic.

On my crusade in jeans, walking through the fields My dad and mom are forever my heroes At the end of the day we are all human beings My father once told me: "It's a world without borders" Rain on the window and I stood at the window crying Darkness far too soon, it's Winter in Spring "I miss you every day", is what I secretly whisper You see dad, I listened to you

So, basically, the gist is, this song has many layers. It's a heartfelt tribute to Eurovision, while also telling a personal story about grief and letting go of said grief.

Though I think this interview with Joost Klein on De Avondshow met Arjen Lubach may say more than I could.

Well, sometimes you must say goodbye to whatever is most dear to you. And when one door closes thousands of others open, apparently. But what I've learned is that you tend to hold on to your own pain sometimes. So this letter provides some sort of closure, dare I say. Saying: "Hey, Mum and Dad... You will always be there for me, but I can't carry this pain forever."

[her-satanic-wiles]

Masterlist ⛧ Lost in Translation Masterlist ⛧ Ao3

Words: 12.4k.

Reading Time: 50 min.

Warnings: begging, cock warming, creampie, cunnilingus, dry humping, fingering, hair pulling, marking, mentions of masturbation, mild pain kink, mild salirophilia, moderately underprepared penetration (but no pain), multiple scenes, nipple play, penetrative sex, praise kink, so much whimpering omfg, unprotected sex (cover the bone to slide it home, bro), vaginal fingering, vaginal sex

Taglist: @zombiesnips-blog @da-rulah @teenage-birt-dag @ellenokumura @thew0man @sodoswitchimage @the-real-eggplany @deathmimedream @love-is-all-you-need-13 @kadedoesthings @rosyerato @xshadylady @popiaswife @perpetratorwithaquill @punkiy50 @onlyhereforghost @kaijukimchi @copiaspet622

As the newly appointed Cardinal Copia struggles with the weight of a looming prophecy, a resilient scholar challenges the narrative, uncovering a conspiracy that reaches beyond the walls of the Ministry. The emergence of a forbidden love ignites a rebellion against a power-hungry Sister, whose thirst for control threatens to reshape the very foundations of the Church. Will the revelation of those schemes lead to liberation or plunge the Ministry into chaos?

Previous Part ⛧ Next Part

🔞 MDNI 🔞

One moment you were in the peace and tranquility of the Ministry’s library, the next you were in the Ministry’s personal plane getting ready to land in Heathrow Airport, with Cardinal Copia by your side. The flight from Rome to London was wonderfully short, ticking in at just two and a half hours long. Plenty of time for you to go over the notes you made at school on Hebrew, more specifically the ancient Hebrew that you required in order to translate Abrahamic texts to Ministry-standard levels.

Ancient Hebrew was much more difficult for you to learn, given that it was an entirely different alphabet to the one you were used to. The script used during ancient times, particularly during the First Temple period, had a more pictographic nature, not entirely unlike Ancient Egyptian. During the 1st century CE, the Hebrew language was undergoing a significant transformation and coexisted with other languages in the region. Biblical Hebrew was more akin to modern day Hebrew which allowed you some crossovers in your day-to-day studies, but it was still very different in most aspects.

The Ministry, as it was open to everyone from all walks of life, held so much diversity between its unhallowed walls, it was beautiful. There were languages spoken from all over the world, but in order to unify everyone and make communication easier, Italian was the main language, followed by Latin, then English, then other denominations. The Church revelled in the chaos created by such a diverse cast of characters - and for a long time allowed everyone to just play the conversation by ear. In essence, you’d watch someone open their mouth and pray to Lucifer that they were about to speak in a language that you understood. It wasn’t until Mama Ardens II reigned in the late 15th Century that she introduced the official language of Italian. This was challenged by some members of the clergy as it was “too Catholic”, but there was a reason her name was Ardens and she shut the clergy up pretty quickly.

During the flight, you could feel the weight of the Cardinal’s eyes upon you, burning through you like Hellfire upon the skin of the worst sinners. The majority of the time, you’d catch him looking at your papers, as if he was refamiliarising himself with Ancient Hebrew too. But there was the odd occasion when your eyes locked with his, and he panicked and turned away, pretending as though he was looking at something else behind you. The act itself made you so, very aware of your appearance. What could he possibly be staring at? And why? You found yourself wiping something from your face just to be sure you didn’t have anything on it.

“Scusi, Sorella.” The Cardinal said, interrupting your studying with a gloved tap to your shoulder. You looked at him, the haze of the ancient world fading with each passing second. “This is Hebrew, sì?”

You stared at him blankly for a second before answering. “Yes, Your Dark Eminence.”

He nodded. “It looks like Ancient Phoenician.”

“You know Ancient Phoenician?”

“A little. I went through a phase in my teens where I wanted to be different. Everyone else knew Latin and Greek, I wanted Latin and Phoenician.”

You laughed. “I think everyone goes through that phase when they’re a teen.”

“Probably. The alphabets are the same, no?”

“No, actually. They’re very similar, but they’re not copies of one another. What modern historians refer to as the “Paleo-Hebrew” alphabet was used by some of Abraham’s children. The Phoenician alphabet and the Paleo-Hebrew alphabet were pretty much the same alphabet, despite possible tiny differences in the letterforms, but every language spoken by the Canaanites shared this alphabet. Even the Arameans made use of it. It wasn’t invented by the Phoenicians or even by Abraham’s children. Most likely it was a group of early, unnamed Canaanites that we’ve no evidence for… yet.”

“Does it function the same way?”

“I don’t know enough about Ancient Phoenician to tell you either way, but,” you picked up your sheet of paper that helped translate the Hebrew to the Latin alphabet and handed it to the Cardinal, “you’re more than welcome to figure that out for yourself.”

He perused the sheet in front of him for a short while, getting to grips with the look of it. Every now and then, little hums of understanding would spill involuntarily from his lips, each one making your heart soar with adoration.

The world’s impressions of the Cardinal often exaggerated his behaviour. He demonstrated a sweetness that spoke to his true nature, far from the menacing figure many had imagined.

The Cardinal was an introverted man who took comfort in his own company, just like you. Even though he was capable of being an ambiverted position when called for, it was obvious that he valued solitude over social interactions. It felt as though he was choosing to be alone, and it went beyond simple preference to suggest a deeper, complex side to his nature.

The truth, sadly, appeared to be a little grimmer. Sister Aisha, who was known for her direct and sometimes sarcastic comments, did not hold back when she called the Cardinal “a creepy old man.” And made no attempts to hide any contempt she held for him, but she was one of many who felt exactly the same way.

The daily peeks into his life revealed an odd habit: a Ghoul snatching his meals from the kitchens and slipping them into his office. His life of isolation not only shielded him from the Ministry’s scrutiny but also added to the mysterious atmosphere that enveloped him.

People often treated their future leader with a certain amount of condescension, either not realising his potential or brushing it off completely. They were unable to see his character’s depth and his hidden strength. It was as if they only saw the surface—a man who didn’t fit the Ministry’s stereotypical image of power.

You would see the eye rolling, the dismissive gestures, and the sporadic scoffs aimed at him. The insensitive treatment looked to be the result of ignorance, an inability to realise the importance hidden behind his modest demeanour. The Cardinal had to deal with the disdainful attitudes of those around him in his earlier days, while others in similar positions might have commanded immediate respect.

But there was something about him which you saw that others missed. You had a gut feeling that there was more to this modest person than first appeared. Feeling sympathy for the Cardinal and believing he deserved better than the casual remarks and sidelong looks, you watched the irritating treatment take place.

The Ministry had no idea that hiding beneath that seemingly ordinary man was the potential for a strong leader. The future Cardinal Copia would eventually triumph over the criticism and unpleasant treatment, demonstrating that genuine strength frequently hides in a person’s depths, ready to be revealed when the time was right.

And a different Cardinal showed up in those moments when he wasn’t burdened by the duties of leadership and he allowed himself to converse. His kindness came through; his soft-spoken manner revealed the fragility beneath the surface of power. It became clear that the Cardinal was a complicated person who was oversimplified in the eyes of the world to be a stoic, unapproachable figure.

Being in the background gave you the opportunity to observe the Church’s internal drama, the shenanigans, and the power struggles without taking an active part in them. It was a position of quiet strength, where your biggest advantage became your understanding and awareness of the inner workings of the Ministry.

The Cardinal’s lack of notice meant freedom from unnecessary attention. You could spend your time reading the ancient books, exploring the archaic library, and performing your tasks without having to deal with the spotlight. The shadows offered a certain safety, a place where you could pursue your curiosity without being distracted by people.

In quieter moments, among the centuries-old books and dimly lit hallways of the Ministry, there was a faint longing, a yearning for a relationship that went beyond the pages of forbidden knowledge. There were times when you wished the Cardinal would give you that elusive, uneven smile, even though you cherished the safety of anonymity and the cover of darkness.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you dreamed that the Cardinal would acknowledge you in a way that went beyond the standard Ministry exchanges. You yearned for some small act that displayed a great deal in the calm language of desire, something that would bring back memories of old-fashioned chivalry.

You imagined a moment when the Cardinal, freed from the restraints of rank, would hold your hand with a tenderness suiting the moment. You’d read about such actions in the romance books that lined the library’s shelves: a gentleman’s kiss upon a lady’s hand, as a sign of affection and a modest declaration of a relationship that went beyond the everyday.

However, these moments remained unattainable since the intricate web of the Cardinal’s ascent to importance and the manipulations of the Ministry. The reality of your job as an archivist at the Ministry’s library clashed regularly with the dreams that danced in the corners of your mind. Your dreams were tucked between the shelves like a bookmark between book pages.

It was enough to send previous incarnations of yourself into a near-coma of shock to learn that the Cardinal was not only aware of your existence but actively seeking your aid for a mission to London. A storm of emotions mixed disbelief and excitement at the thought that your unnoticed presence had attracted the attention of the Church’s leader. It seemed like a strange transition from being a quiet observer to a major role in a clandestine mission—a story arc that went against the expectations of the once-quiet guardian.

As the jet streaked through the sky, carrying you and the Cardinal into to the fascinating depths of London, you found yourself suddenly drawn away from your usual scholarly pursuits. Rather than immersing yourself in the ancient Hebrew texts that waited for you in the city, you were chatting with the Cardinal informally, like you were the closest, lifelong friends that could ever be.

You were sitting side by side in the cramped plane, and you pulled out a notebook with Hebrew idioms and symbols in it. The aircraft’s steady hum provided a unique setting for this unusual classroom, where the Cardinal—who wasn’t exactly famed for his mysterious charm—became a passionate learner.

You patiently explained the complexities of the old Hebrew language to the Cardinal. As you clarified their meanings and intricacies, the characters—each bearing a history and resonance from millennia ago—took on new life. With a mixture of passion and nervousness the Cardinal tried to imitate the characters in his trademark clumsy charm. That was to say, he got things wrong… a lot.

The unexpected language lesson had led to a moment of shared laughter, a welcome respite from the weight of ancient texts and scholarly pursuits. After one particularly amusing mistake, the laughter gradually subsided, giving way to a comfortable silence. In that quietude, an unspoken connection lingered in the air.

As you glanced over your notes, the Cardinal’s gaze shifted, and when you looked up, you found his eyes fixed upon you. The atmosphere seemed to shift, charged with a subtle energy that transcended the boundaries of mere camaraderie. His gaze, softer and more contemplative than before, held an unspoken sentiment that eluded easy definition.

His eyes traced the contours of your face with a newfound tenderness, and there was a momentary pause, as if time itself had hesitated to acknowledge the shift in dynamics. A gentle intensity lingered in the air, and his gaze descended to your lips with a soft, unspoken longing.

Unaware of the subtle shift in the Cardinal’s demeanour, you continued to meet his eyes with an easygoing smile. The shared laughter had forged a connection, and the silence that followed seemed to amplify the unspoken nuances lingering between you.

For the Cardinal, the moment held a depth of emotion that he struggled to articulate. His eyes conveyed a silent contemplation, and in that fleeting silence, there was a desire—subtle, yet palpable. The notion of a kiss hovered in the unspoken spaces between you, a sentiment that had yet to find expression in words.

As the plane continued its journey toward London, the Cardinal’s gaze remained soft, a reflection of the newfound connection forged in the unexpected intimacy of the language lesson. Little did you know that this unspoken exchange would linger as a subtle undercurrent, shaping the course of the journey that awaited you in the heart of the ancient city.

The announcement of the impending landing interrupted the quiet exchange between you and the Cardinal. With a shared understanding, and an awkward clearing of the Cardinal’s throat, you both began the task of clearing away the notes, neatly organizing the scattered papers that documented your linguistic exploration. The air hostess moved through the cabin, her voice announcing the approaching descent and the estimated time until landing.

As the plane touched down in London, the anticipation of the journey ahead resonated in the air. Your bags, along with the majority of the Cardinal’s Ghouls—Swiss, Aurora, Cirrus, and Phantom, as you noted—were efficiently handled and transported to the hotel. The remaining Ghouls accompanied you and the Cardinal, ready to delve into the mysteries held within the Crimson Archives.

Exiting the airport, the chill of the London air greeted you, a stark contrast to the climate you had left behind. The Ghouls maintained an eerie silence as they efficiently guided you and the Cardinal toward the awaiting vehicle. The journey to the Crimson Archives unfolded, the city’s landmarks passing by in a blur of history and modernity.

The Crimson Archives, a repository of knowledge and secrets, awaited your exploration. The Cardinal, his curiosity undiminished, glanced toward you with a glint of excitement in his eyes. The Ghouls, ever vigilant, maintained a discreet presence, their loyalty to the Cardinal evident in every step.

As you approached the entrance, the imposing facade of the archives loomed overhead, a testament to the weight of the knowledge contained within its walls. The building itself was designed in the typical Edwardian Baroque fashion, a classic from the 1600s that had made its way all across Europe to decorate the streets of the well-to-do, adding a sense of grandeur. The white exterior was profanely white, as though someone was out with a toothbrush every single day, cleaning the brickwork and repainting it to hide any and all blemishes.

The monochromatic exterior was interrupted only by the double-doored entrance, a vivid splash of red staining the wood. The crimson hue, reminiscent of dried blood, served as a stark reminder that beyond those doors lay the repository of forbidden knowledge—the Crimson Archives.

As you approached the entrance, the weight of anticipation hung in the air. The Ghouls, their presence silent and imposing, flanked you and the Cardinal, their loyalty a reassuring presence. The red doors creaked open, inviting you to step into the enigmatic world that awaited beyond.

Crossing the threshold, you entered a realm where time seemed to stand still. The interior, bathed in a muted light that filtered through stained glass windows, exuded an air of reverence. The scent of ancient parchment and weathered leather permeated the air, as if the very essence of knowledge clung to the surroundings.

Rows of towering bookshelves lined the expansive space, each shelf bearing the weight of countless tomes. Dust motes danced in the filtered sunlight, adding a touch of magic to the ambiance. The hallowed halls echoed with the whispers of the past, inviting you to unravel the secrets concealed within the carefully preserved volumes.

As you and the Cardinal ventured deeper into the Crimson Archives, the architectural beauty and the solemnity of the surroundings intensified. The knowledge held within these walls spanned centuries, and the building itself stood as a testament to the reverence bestowed upon the pursuit of wisdom.

Every step further into the archives felt like a journey through time, a pilgrimage into the mysteries that lay dormant, waiting to be unearthed. The building, with its timeless design and meticulous preservation, stood as a guardian of the secrets you sought, a silent witness to the ebb and flow of history that had left its mark on every page within.

The interior of the Crimson Archives continued the theme of elegant austerity with a predominantly monochromatic palette. An airy atmosphere that encircled the room in a timeless hug, was created by the towering bookshelves’ shadows dancing across the white walls.

The black accents, whether in the form of wrought-iron railings or the dark frames of portraits lining the walls, added a touch of sophistication to the otherwise pristine interior. The interplay of light and dark accentuated the architectural details, casting a mysterious allure that beckoned those who dared to explore further.

Crimson red, the color that lent the archives its name, punctuated the surroundings like droplets of blood against a canvas of parchment. The rich hue adorned draperies that framed arched windows, lending a warm contrast to the cool tones dominating the space. Plush rugs underfoot absorbed the echo of footsteps, muffling sound and enhancing the sense of reverence.

Wooden furnishings, stained with a reddish tint, added to the overall warmth of the archives. The bookshelves, meticulously organized and towering towards the ceiling, featured rich, dark wood that cradled the weight of centuries-old knowledge. Each shelf, each tome, seemed to radiate history, promising a journey through time with every page turned.

The two of you stood before the unattended front desk, the absence of any library staff adding an extra layer of mystery to the already cryptic atmosphere. The desk, pristine and uncluttered, awaited the presence of a librarian or archivist to assist in navigating the vast sea of knowledge housed within the Crimson Archives.

All was vacant save for the single silver bell that guarded the area. Gleaming like a beacon in the poorly lit surroundings, its smooth surface reflected the surrounding light. Beside it was a plain note with a clear instruction in exquisite script, “Ring for assistance.”

“What kind of cult have we walked into?” You asked, taking in your surroundings.

The Cardinal noticed your unease, and rested his hand on your shoulder. “This sounds like the beginning of a very bad joke, no? Two Satanists walk into a cult’s archives…”

You chuckled, feeling a little calmer. As you reached for the bell, a faint sense of anticipation hung in the air. The Cardinal observed with a mix of curiosity and amusement, perhaps intrigued by the prospect of unraveling the secrets within the hallowed halls of the Crimson Archives. With a gentle tap of your finger against the silver surface, a melodious chime echoed through the silence, resonating with the reverence of ages past.

The sound lingered for a moment before dissipating into the air, leaving a quiet expectancy in its wake. The hushed whispers of pages turning and the distant creak of aging wood filled the void, creating an ambiance that seemed to resonate with the very essence of the written word.

Eventually, a Lord Worthington waddled forward, his ample belly preceding him. He was indeed bald, with a shiny forehead that reflected the overhead lights. His round face was flushed, and beads of perspiration adorned his bald pate. Despite his portly appearance, there was an air of joviality about him. He sported a finely groomed, gray mustache that curled at the ends, giving him a somewhat eccentric air. Lord Worthington was the founder of the Crimson Archives - essentially a personal collection of ancient artifacts and texts belonging to a man with too much money in his bank account.

“Your Dark Eminence!” he exclaimed, extending a plump hand towards the Cardinal. His fingers were adorned with several ornate rings, and he wore a cream-colored waistcoat that strained against the girth of his belly. Each word he spoke seemed to be accompanied by a cough, as if his excitement and his respiratory system were engaged in a perpetual tug-of-war. Lord Worthington’s eyes twinkled with a mix of reverence and genuine enthusiasm as he quickly shook the Cardinal’s hand, hard enough to shake his entire body. “It’s an absolute pleasure to have you here at the Crimson Archives, sir! What a delightful encounter. I suppose you’re here for that Eden book, yes?”

“Sì. If you could take us to it, that would be helpful.”

Lord Worthington beamed, his excitement undeterred by the Cardinal’s succinct response. “Of course, Your Dark Eminence! Right this way!”

He led you and Cardinal Copia, and by extension, the Ghouls, through the labyrinthine corridors of the Crimson Archives. The air was heavy with the scent of aged paper, and the occasional cough from Lord Worthington punctuated the quiet rustle of unseen activity. You couldn’t help but marvel at the vastness of the collection and the meticulously organized shelves that seemed to stretch into infinity.

After what felt like a journey through time itself with the Lord talking to you both about the history of the archives, Lord Worthington stopped before a particularly ornate set of double doors. The crimson theme persisted here, with intricate patterns etched into the dark wood. He produced a set of antique keys, each one adorned with a different emblem, and selected the appropriate one to unlock the doors.

“Here we are, Your Dark Eminence, Sister,” he announced, ushering you into a room that seemed plucked from a forgotten era. The smell of aged parchment was more pronounced here, and the room was illuminated by the warm glow of antique chandeliers. Ornate bookshelves lined the walls, each one crammed with dusty tomes that bore the weight of centuries.

“In this chamber, we keep some of our most prized possessions. May I present to you, Eden’s Veiled Chronicles,” Lord Worthington gestured towards a display case in the center of the room. Inside, under the protective gaze of glass, rested an ancient manuscript bound in cracked leather and adorned with faded symbols.

The Cardinal’s eyes lit up with anticipation. “May we…?” he began, gesturing towards the display case.

“Of course, Your Eminence! Feel free to examine it as closely as you’d like. It’s an honor to have you here,” Lord Worthington responded, his voice filled with genuine reverence.

As you delicately extracted the Chronicles from its protective casing, a sense of reverence settled in the air. The ancient manuscript, veiled in the passage of time, revealed itself in all its glory.

The cover, made of cracked leather with an otherworldly patina, cradled the secrets within. Faded symbols, once vibrant, adorned the surface, telling a story of eras long past. The leather, though aged, retained a certain suppleness, a testament to the craftsmanship of a bygone age.

Upon opening the cover, the parchment pages unfolded like the petals of a timeworn flower. The script, a dance of ink on the vellum, told the tale of Eden’s secrets. The language was fluid, an intricate dance of ancient Hebrew, and the illustrations, though faded, spoke of a world unseen.

The Chronicles bore the marks of countless hands that had touched its pages over the centuries. Annotations in different hands adorned the margins, an ongoing conversation across the ages. Fragments of commentary in Latin, Aramaic, and even Phoenician wove together a tapestry of understanding and interpretation.

The illustrations, a blend of artistic expression and symbolic representation, depicted scenes from the Garden of Eden not commonly known. Angels, serpents, and enigmatic figures danced across the pages, each stroke of ink telling a story lost to common narratives.

As you turned the pages with the utmost care, the scent of ancient wisdom, a mixture of parchment and the faintest whisper of long-gone eras, wafted through the air. The Chronicles seemed to exhale the secrets it held, secrets waiting to be unveiled to those who sought knowledge beyond the veil of conventional understanding.

The Cardinal leaned in, his eyes tracing the ancient words and symbols with a mixture of awe and curiosity. In order to get as close as possible, you felt his hand on the small of your back, then his fingertips dancing towards your waist, pulling you closer to him. Ordinarily, this would infuriate you, but as it was the Cardinal’s hand clutching onto your body, you found your cheeks flushing. Lord Worthington watched, his coughs momentarily silenced in the presence of such historical significance.

“It’s extraordinary.” The Cardinal said, enthralled by its enigmatic histories that he was unable to decipher.

“It’s so well preserved, Your Dark Eminence,” you told him, equally magnitised, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“How long do you think it would take you to translate it?”

“I couldn’t say - maybe a few months. But I’m so excited to get started. Look here,” you pointed to a passage that you were the only one able to understand, “it’s the story of Lilith and how she fell from Yhwh’s graces!”

“Straordinario! What’s the story?”

“Well, it starts how we’re used to reading it: created from Adam’s rib, refused to be subservient, was kicked out of Eden. But we never truly learned what happened to Her afterwards. There’s something in here about the Dark One finding Her, reviving Her with water, and taking Her to Hell with Him - but I’ll need my notes to understand the specifics. It sounds more like a love story than anything else. I’m so excited.”

You finally looked up at the Cardinal, whose eyes were fixated on your face again. His pupils were dilated significantly, as he stared at your face - eyes lingering a little to long on your lips. His hand, which was still around your waist, had tightened its grip and subconsciously pulled you closer to him. You could feel his rapid heartbeat through his cassock, feel the heat of his nervousness emanating from him like a radiator. You felt lured to lean in closer, to feel his warm breath on his cheek, to taste his lips that no doubt still tasted like the coffee he drank earlier. Your eyes were searching in his for something, anything - maybe even a bit of confidence to do what you’d been longing to do the moment you saw him. You did. You allowed your head to lean in just a tad. You were so close to him.

His breath.

His hand.

His -

A cough brought you out of whatever spell the Cardinal had put you under, and you both backed away from each other as quickly as you could. The Cardinal’s eyes were shifty and nervous, while your lips were caught between your teeth in disbelief. That was the closest you’d ever been to him, and the pull of something more was so unbearable it almost clouded your judgment.

You were about to kiss your boss’ boss’ boss, in an archive that didn’t belong to you, holding a 1500-year-old text about the creators of your faith. Your cheeks filled with embarrassment at the thought of Lord Worthington watching this happen right in front of him, and being the one to wheeze his way into breaking up the spectacle.

Naturally, a man who held a lot of money wouldn’t let something so valuable go out of the kindness of his heart. The British Aristocracy had no idea what kindness even meant - everything they did was for the good of their bank account. The Chronicles belonged in the Ministry and the Ministry’s archives. It was an important piece of religious history that needed to be with its siblings and on display for everyone to see, not just the obscenely rich. It took a lot of negotiating to get Lord Worthington to agree to a price that didn’t absolutely bankrupt the Church, with a little extra intimidation provided by Mountain in order to sweeten the deal. But, this important piece of history now belonged to the Ministry, the acquisition was finalised, and the next day you’d both be returning back to Rome.

The hotel, an opulent sanctuary nestled in the heart of London, exuded an air of grandeur that resonated with the city’s rich history. As you and the Cardinal entered the lavish establishment, the grand foyer unfolded before you in a symphony of elegance.

Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a soft glow that danced upon the intricately patterned carpets below. The walls adorned with historical tapestries whispered tales of the past, and the subdued lighting added a touch of mystique to the atmosphere.

The concierge, clad in a tailored uniform, greeted you with a courteous smile before he led the way through ornate corridors adorned with classical artwork, creating an ambiance that blended the contemporary with the timeless. You marveled at the seamless fusion of luxury and tradition, a setting befitting the dignitaries and scholars who sought refuge within its walls.

In the quiet solitude of your room, you took a moment to marvel at the view from the window. The city lights twinkled in the distance, a testament to London’s vibrant energy. The bed, adorned with plush linens, promised a night of restful repose.

You took off your veil, rolled up your habit’s sleeves, and combed your hair back from your face. Lying on the polished desk like a quiet oracle waiting to reveal its secrets was the text, a relic of antiquated wisdom, persuading you to get straight to work. Bathed in the soft light of well-placed lamps, the room filled you with the anticipation of discovery.

You didn’t realise that time had passed you by in all the hours you spent hunched over your desk. You only noticed it was dark outside when a gentle knock at the door pulled you out of your work, and you’d already translated the first two chapters. You stood and opened the door to reveal the Cardinal standing there, awkward as ever, holding a plastic bag in his gloved hands. “Ah, Sorella!” He greeted. He was about to say something when he saw your appearance. His Adam’s Apple bobbed as he felt his mouth go dry. There was something so intoxicating about your dishevelled appearance and sleepy, work-tired eyes, he found it difficult to string even the simplest of sentences together. “Y-you had disappeared for a few hours, I assumed you had begun working on the text, sì?”

“Oh, yes, Your Dark Eminence. Sorry, I lost track of time.”

The Cardinal smiled. “I thought you might. And, call me Copia, please. Only if you want to, of course. The last thing I want to do is make you feel uncomfortable. But I would prefer you to call me Copia.”

“Copia.” You said softly, feeling the name on the tip of your tongue and getting used to it. You opened the door. “Please, come in.”

“Ah, sì, grazie. I have brought, uh, Chinese food. I thought you might be hungry. I brought some for myself, too. I was, uh - I was hoping to join you. But, i-if you don’t want me to then I’ll get my stuff and go - nessun problema.”

“No, I’d like that… you to join me, I mean.”

Copia smiled and let out a soft and breathy laugh. “Okay.”

“Okay.” You said, copying everything he just did without realising. For some reason, you felt nervous at this exchange. Your heart was light yet pulsating quickly in your chest as you set up the coffee table with the food.

“After dinner,” Copia began, “I was hoping to see what you’d completed so far. Is that okay?”

“Of course, Your Dark… Copia.”

Copia laughed at the way you corrected yourself.

Once the table was set up for dinner, the two of you began to tuck in on the feast. You didn’t realise until the first bite just how hungry you actually were.

The warmth of the Chinese food filled the room, accompanied by the quiet clinking of cutlery against porcelain. The atmosphere shifted from scholarly concentration to a more casual friendly conversation as you and Copia shared the simple pleasure of a shared meal. The fragrant aroma of the dishes mingled with the heady scent of ancient texts, creating an eclectic symphony that defined this unique moment in time.

Copia, despite his position as a Cardinal and leader of the dark congregation, displayed an endearing awkwardness. His genuine attempts at conversation and the occasional nervous laughter drew a smile from you, making the evening feel remarkably relaxed. It was a side of him that few were privileged to witness, and you found yourself appreciating the authenticity beneath the ceremonial robes.

As you both enjoyed the meal, conversation flowed effortlessly between bites of food and sips of tea. Copia’s inquiries about your progress with the translation prompted you to share the revelations from the Chronicles. The text, a silent witness to millennia, now whispered its secrets to those willing to listen.

After dinner, you guided Copia to the desk where your translation work awaited. The dim light cast a gentle glow on the pages, and as you began to explain the nuances of the ancient script, Copia listened with an attentiveness that transcended his usual awkwardness. His eyes, normally obscured by the dark recesses of Cardinal makeup, displayed a genuine curiosity that mirrored your own.

The Cardinal’s presence brought a new dimension to the room, and the collaborative effort to uncover the mysteries of the Chronicles continued. Together, you and Copia navigated the labyrinthine passages of ancient knowledge, forging a connection that transcended the formalities of your respective roles within the Ministry.

Copia leaned over the desk, his eyes scanning the carefully translated pages of Eden’s Veiled Chronicles. His expression shifted from curiosity to genuine admiration as he perused your meticulous work. The dim light accentuated the lines on his face, adding a touch of vulnerability to the Cardinal’s usual composed demeanour.

“Sorella, this is exceptional,” he exclaimed, his voice a blend of surprise and appreciation. “Your dedication to this translation is truly commendable. It’s not an easy task, and yet you’ve navigated the intricacies of the text with such finesse.”

A warmth spread through you, a mix of pride and the satisfaction of receiving acknowledgment from someone whose opinion carried weight within the Ministry. Copia’s genuine compliments were like rays of light breaking through the shadows of the ancient library.

“I… thank you, Copia,” you replied, a hint of bashfulness in your voice. “I’m just doing my part.”

He nodded, a genuine smile playing on his lips. “You’re more than just ‘doing your part.’ You’re preserving knowledge, bringing to light the hidden narratives of our beliefs. This text could hold secrets that reshape our understanding of our faith.”

The compliment, spoken with such earnestness, made you appreciate the significance of your work even more. The connection between you and Copia deepened, forged by a shared reverence for the knowledge contained within the Chronicles.

The air in the room seemed to thicken, a charged atmosphere swirling around you and Copia. His eyes, a captivating blend of intensity and vulnerability, met yours with an unspoken question. The uncharted territory of desire loomed between you, and the words hung in the air like a forbidden incantation.

“Sorella,” Copia began, his voice a soft murmur, “I want to kiss you. May I kiss you? If not, that’s okay, I’ll understand.”

Your heart fluttered, caught between the pulse of curiosity and the gravity of the moment. A gentle nod from you granted permission for a connection that transcended the scholarly pursuit of knowledge. Copia approached slowly, bridging the gap with a careful reverence.

His gloved hand brushed against your cheek, the touch sending a shiver down your spine. He leaned forward, and the warmth of his presence surrounded you, capturing the silent anticipation of the room. The kiss, tender yet laden with unspoken emotions, sealed a connection that reached beyond the confines of the Crimson Archives.

Time seemed to stand still as you shared that stolen moment, the world outside the hotel room fading away. Copia’s kiss held a delicate balance of longing and restraint, a testament to the complexity of emotions that bound you together. The quiet intimacy unfolded, painting a tapestry of shared desire and the unspoken connection that had blossomed amidst the ancient texts.

As the kiss lingered, a myriad of emotions played out in the silent spaces between breaths. It was a dance of vulnerability and acceptance, the uncharted territory explored with a shared understanding. When the moment finally released its hold, a soft whimper escaped Copia’s lips.

He tried to pull away for a moment, but you didn’t want to. Your hands pulled at his cassock pulling him impossibly closer, refusing to let him disappear too soon. A desperation filled you, a need that had been bubbling under the surface for years and years until it had spilled over between the walls of a beautiful, London hotel room. Copia’s whimper elicited your own, which in turn, did something to him that he hadn’t felt in years, something he thought he’d never feel again.

His own gloved hands tugged at your waist as his tongue slid into your mouth, welcoming him willingly. Warmth pooled in between your legs when he pushed you against the edge of the desk and trapped you between his plush body and the wood. You could feel him growing hard beneath his robes, his centre now flush with yours and rocking against you slightly. He didn’t realise what he was doing until he was mid thrust, and he pulled back from you as though you’d electrocuted him. “Sorella,” his voice was breathless and low, almost growly, “you have to tell me you don’t want this now. Otherwise I won’t stop until I’ve had you.”

The black of his top lips had been completely smudged off, originally from the grease of the Chinese food, but finished by the friction against your lips. His cheeks were flushed purely pink from the embarrassment of his desperation for you, but also from sheer want of your body against his.

“Please don’t stop.” Your voice matched his, except for the little whimper that punctuated the end of the sentence.

Immediately, he attached his lips to yours, a little rougher than before but no less enjoyable. You wrapped your arms around him like a koala clinging to a tree, eyes closing and whimpering at the feeling of Copia’s clothed cock grinding against your sensitive clit. You gripped onto him stiffly, hair standing on end as you felt his lips travel down to the corner of your mouth, then land on your neck and began to lick and kiss at the sensitive spot there.

Copia’s mind forced him to move, despite all the blood being rushed down south and making it difficult to think. He removed his right glove, and dipped his now bare hand under the skirt of your habit. Naked fingertips stroked against a naked thigh, and travelled all the way up to your panties, now soaked with your need for Copia. Those fingers hooked around the gusset of your panties and pulled them to the side, before running along your folds and gathering up your slick. You were dripping for him. So wet you coated his fingers as if he’d just put his fingers into a lake. He’d pulled his cock away from you momentarily so that he could check to see how ready you were for him, but found himself humping against your thigh in his need for pleasure.

“Mi dispiace, amore. I don’t think I can wait much longer.”

You reached for his cassock and began undoing as many buttons necessary in order to free him. “Please,” you begged, your voice muffled by the kisses you were giving him, “give it to me. I need to feel you, Copia.”

As soon as he was free, he lined himself up and pushed inside. As soon as he entered you, you watched as his eyes rolled back and his mouth hung open. He was slow at first, aware of the fact that he hadn’t stretched you out before hand and curbing his need for you long enough to not hurt you. But even so, it was a battle against his body. Your nails dug into his clothed shoulders, gripping firmly at the pressure in your cunt, and relaxing around the intrusion. He felt divine, as though he were a puzzle piece slotting into the right place on the board. As though he were made specifically for you. He was long enough to hit your cervix when he’d bottomed out, and thick enough to stretch you, but none of it hurt.

As soon as he’d halfway, he stayed still, capturing your lips in another kiss and licking into your mouth like a starved man; borderline crazy and frantic with his actions. It took him a little while to get the wherewithal to speak, and once he did it was through a breathless and strained voice where he was clearly trying to not cum too soon. “Merda!” He hissed, feeling your tight, wet heat comfortably wrap him. “You are the reason men sin.”

The gravity of his words had you clenching around him, earning a delicious whimper to fall from his lips.

“Non fare così!” He exclaimed through pained laughter., dropping his head back to the crook of your neck. “I don’t want to cum too soon.”

“Copia, please.”

Copia pushed the remainder of his cock inside you, slamming home involuntarily and making both of you moan out in surprised pleasure. Your toes curled at the feeling of the tip of his cock kissing your cervix, and you teethed at his jaw.

His hips began pistoning in and out of you, each thrust slow and hard, driving into you with precision and force. His hands moved to your hips for leverage, creating just a little space between your bodies allowing him to fuck into you like you both needed. His cock filled you so nicely, your back arched and your shoulders rested against the cold wall, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you clutched onto his shoulders as though your life depended on it.

The noises Copia was making as he pumped into you were things you’d only heard in your fantasies under the cover of night when you were touching yourself, dreaming of this exact moment. His whimpers; the grunts and groans that escaped him along with the breathy moans and the strings of Italian expletives that made your cunt squeeze around him so impossibly good, dribbles of drool were beginning to spill from the corners of his mouth.

“That’s it, amore.” Copia said breathlessly as he continued to rail you. “St-stretching around my cock. You’re doing so well for me.”

The desk groaned beneath you from the force of Copia’s thrusts and the weight of you and all the desires the two of you harboured for one another. It smacked against the wall repetitively as Copia released all those pent-up feelings and poured them into your soul. His eyes travelled up and down your body, taking in the sinful sight of your clothed breasts bouncing beneath your habit. Your dishevelled appearance that had him blush when he first saw you now had him feral and dying for you with each thrust into the utopia that was your cunt. He could feel himself get more and more addicted to the feel of you. As long as you allowed him, he’d have you every single day.

“Wanted you for so long!” You hurried out, confessing your sins like you were in the booth in the Basilica di Lilith.

“Yeah?” Copia reached down and began playing with your clit. “Is this everything you wished for, amore?”

“Feels so good! Fuck!”

“Pretty little thing, taking my cock so well.” He leaned forward and began kissing and licking at your neck again, pressing himself as close to you as he could without hindering the movements of his fingers against your clit. His bare fingers stroking over your folds sent shivers down your spine. That coupled with the pounding he was giving you and you didn’t stand a chance. It was a matter of minutes before you came all over his cock, seconds if he moved just a little bit faster.

You suddenly became hyper aware of the papers below you, strewn about across the desk messily. Thankfully the Chronicles were safe on the other side of the desk, but your translations were at risk of flooding if you didn’t say something. But the words died in your throat when you tried to ask Copia to move. They couldn’t leave your mouth because the angle he was hitting you at was just so good, it left you gasping for air and loudly moaning into his ear.

“So beautiful.” Copia said, muffled by your skin. By now his words were slurred and his thrusts were erratic, his fingers the only appendage responding to their fullest capacity because your orgasm was on the line. “I want you to cum, amore. Cum on my cock. All over my fingers. You’re already so nice and wet for me. Let’s see if you can get wetter.”

“Fuck, Copia!”

“That’s it - say my name.”

“Copia!”

“Again, amore!”

“Fuck! Copia! I’m gonna cum!”

“That’s it. Such a good girl. Cum for me.”

The knot in your stomach finally snapped and you came harder than you had in Lucifer knew how long. Touching yourself to the thought of Copia turned out to be nothing like the real thing - the way his body slotted so perfectly between your legs was nothing short of a curse, because you knew now that nothing else would ever be the same. Nothing else would make you feel as good. No one else could ever take care of you the way he could. As you came around his cock, he talked you through it, planting kisses on your exposed skin and holding you close to him, all the while not letting his fingers rest until you pushed him away from you.

Then, it was his turn. With a strangled groan that poured into your mouth like the sweetest nectar, he emptied himself inside of you. He whimpered pathetically with each thrust, almost silenced by your tongue in his mouth. The hand that remained on your hip sturdy with its grip and clasped onto you to stop himself from tumbling over with the sheer force of his orgasm. Yeah, he could quickly get used to this.

After a few moments of staying where he was, kissing you just as passionately as he had moments before, he finally pulled away and rested his forehead onto yours.

“Ciao.” He said softly.

You rolled your eyes at the reference to the Black Mass so long ago, but your mouth shaped into a brilliant smile, with eyes that beamed to happily, Copia was almost blinded by them. “Ciao.” You responded, a giggle catching in your throat and distorting the word ever so softly.

“Ah, amore, we have a problem.”

Your stomach sank. “What?” You asked, preparing yourself for the worst.

“I came inside you.”

You sighed in relief. “Oh, it’s okay. The Ministry provides birth control for all those who want it - I wanted it.”

“Ah, sì. That I know. But… my cock is the only thing stopping my cum from escaping. And you’re sat on some papers.”

Your eyes widened, remembering your want to move locations just moments ago. Your mind went blank. “Shit! Oh, no, no, no!”

“It’s okay! There are tissues-”

“On the other side of the room!”

“Okay, I could pull out and-”

“Then your cum would get all over my translations!”

After some back and forth, it was decided that you would awkwardly lift and wiggle your hips so Copia could reach underneath you and pull the flimsy paper out from beneath you. Every time you did, you would accidentally clench down on his softening cock, and he would hiss or scream out in, what sounded like pain, but it was mostly just sensitivity. That, and he knew that one more clench from you would have him chubbing up inside you again, and he was too tired for round two. At least immediately, anyway.

Once you were both certain your hard work had been saved, Copia placed two gentle taps on your thigh. “See? No harm done. All is well.”

“I may have cried if my work was destroyed.”

Copia pulled out of you, causing both of you to whimper at the sensation. But, Copia placed a kiss on your forehead and stroked your cheek with his gloved hand. “I would never be the reason for your tears, amore.”

You leaned into his touch, but removed the glove before you did allowing you to feel his bare skin on yours. You placed a soft kiss to his hand, finding comfort and solace in his touch. You believed him. You knew he would never do anything to hurt you. “Grazie.”

Copia smiled, looking at you with pure adoration in his eyes. “Prego! Now, I think we should clean up, don’t you?”

You nodded and allowed Copia to help you off the desk and lead you into the bathroom.

You had never showered or cleaned up with another person after sex. Your conquests at the Ministry had usually been either ritual-based or so casual, your partner barely stayed after the fact. But Copia was leading you to the bathroom with his own hands, and turning on the water as hot as possible to get it nice and warm for you when you both were ready - and by Lucifer, did that man take care of you.

He started by brushing your hair, picking up each section gently and working out any knots in it until it was silky smooth and primed and ready for washing, all the while making low conversation with you, his tenor, nasally voice reverberating around the bathroom and bringing comfort to your ears as he worked away at your hair.

He then unzipped your habit, and helped you out of it, folding it neatly to place on the counter so that it would be ready for the next time you wanted to wear it - or pack it, he wasn’t sure.

Bras were tricky garments for Copia, usually when he was too horny to function and wanted access to his partner’s chest. But right now, he was able to take his time with the evil thing, and place soft kisses on your exposed skin to distract you from how long it was actually taking. But, once your breasts were freed, your bra joined your habit on the bathroom counter. He took a moment to appreciate your naked form, drinking in the way you looked completely bare to him. He tried not to stare too long, lest you become uncomfortable and ask that he left - which he would, but he didn’t want to.

You were stunning. So beautiful he almost wanted to put you in a museum and marvel at your work. You’d put Michelangelo’s work to shame if you were placed next to it. You would embarrass the classic artists of old with your beauty. He picked up your hand, “One day, amore, I will worship you so well it will make the gods jealous,” and placed a gentle kiss to the back of it.

He couldn’t be real - there was no way that a line like that came out of a man like him in your overpriced hotel bathroom filled with steam, so quickly after getting to know you. It was like he had come straight from the pages of a book, complete with all the right lines and gestures to make you fall in love with him.

The Cardinal’s words, a blend of poetic elegance and genuine emotion, painted a canvas of longing and passion spoken in one of the least romantic spots on Earth yet it had your heart racing violently in your chest. The weight of his gaze and the timbre of his voice wove a spell, binding you in a moment suspended in the tapestry of time.

His own clothes took less time to remove, as though he were that one particular scene of the movie Bruce Almighty, where his clothes are just ripped from him and he’s ready to do… well, whatever task one might need to do when naked. The sheer speed of the man, launching his cassock and robes all around the room and making you laugh with the absurdity of it. His salt and pepper hair, a mess from his hat and his Cardinal’s paints a small mess from the exertion of before.

You both got in the shower and washed away the mess of the day from each other’s bodies, lathering soap and rubbing it all over each other, removing each other’s paints and make up and washing each other’s hair. Copia took extra care around your vulva, making sure to clean you thoroughly but as gently as he possibly could so as not to cause you any pain. A thorough lover in all aspects - you wanted to keep him forever.

You dried yourselves off, being silly with the hairdryer before he gave you a gentle kiss and the two of you headed into the bedroom. He picked up his robes and was about to dress himself until you stopped him and told him to join you in bed.

As you and Copia curled up in the softness of the comfortable cushions, the room’s soothing glow from the bedside lamp created a peaceful cocoon. The blankets, a sanctuary of warmth, held the heat that radiated from your joined bodies. He gestured for you to lie on his chest, where your fingers danced and stroked over his hairy torso, drawing the lines of his tattooed “666” over his heart, his chubbiness acting as the ideal pillow. You had only ever seen it in the Ministry’s stained glass windows and, later, in stage replicas of the same stained glass during his performance in the Ghost Project. You didn’t think it was real, but there it was, faded from years of age and hidden partially beneath brown chest hair. The abs in his stained glass replica certainly weren’t real, but there was something about his jiggly tummy that made you happy.

In your hotel room, a soft calmness consumed the two of you, like your own private sanctuary. The authentic connection that formed between you and the Cardinal seemed to eclipse the problems of the day, the weight of your responsibilities, and the Ministry’s norms and regulations.

As you lay side by side, the vulnerability caused by the openness of the conversation and the tenderness of the dim light highlighting your faces. Copia’s comments resonated deeply with a man who had taken solace in the carefree moment’s simplicity, akin to the lines of a lovely song.

The Cardinal’s unbridled, sincere laughter permeated the room, a soft refrain that broke between the calm discussions and times of mutual delight. The walls that usually covered the complexity of your lives came down during this quiet talk, and you two were able to get to know each other on a level that would never have been possible. He was Copia Emeritus, the youngest son of a man who had once performed the same role as him, and an innocent boy who had grown up in a difficult environment. He was more than just the Cardinal and the Head of the Satanic Church. And you were able to lay your soul bare to a man who could understand your troubles in a way not many people could. A rare connection, but a real one.

The soft rustle of the blankets and the soothing rhythm of breathing created a lullaby of comfort,wrapping both of you in a gentle touch of the night. His arm wrapped around your naked body in a hug of protection, drawing you as near to him as he could, as if you were his own.

A fresh day looming over London, sincere conversation, warmth between you and Copia, and a bedroom filled with the soft murmuring of dreams were the small things that brought you comfort in life. With its gentle wings, the night captivated you both, trapping you in a dreamlike world and a soundless melody of hearts interwoven in the unholy.

The throb of excitement and the rush of unexpected intimacy blended with the ashes of dreams that twirled on the brink of awareness, and you fell asleep hardly comprehending the position you were in, but committing it to memory, nonetheless. In order to get a good night’s rest, you made sure to quell the fear that he’d be gone in the morning, and you’d come to the horror that this was all a dream - a fantasy your brain concocted to cope with the idea that you were so close to him.

The soft glow of morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm embrace upon the room. As consciousness gently reclaimed its hold, you stirred, expecting to find Copia’s presence beside you. However, the realization that the bed was empty washed over you, accompanied by a subtle undercurrent of disappointment.

For a fleeting moment, doubt crept in—had the encounters with Copia been nothing more than the whimsical product of a dream? The vividness of the previous day’s events felt like a mirage, and a sense of yearning lingered in the room, echoing the emptiness left by his absence.

You sat up, the sheets cascading in gentle waves around you, and surveyed the room with a mix of hope and uncertainty. The memories of the shared Chinese dinner, the playful banter, and the intimacy of being cradled in Copia’s arms seemed almost too fantastical to be real.

As you rose from the bed, the lingering scent of Copia’s presence surrounded you, a subtle fragrance that whispered of the shared moments. A pang of longing accompanied the realization that, regardless of the dreamlike quality of the encounters, there was a void in the room that mirrored the absence of the Cardinal.

Attempting to dispel the lingering doubt, you moved through the room, still as naked as you were when you fell asleep the night before, half-expecting to find traces of him—the imprints of his presence, a forgotten belonging, anything that would validate the reality of the connection. The room, however, revealed no such evidence, leaving you in a state of quiet contemplation.

In the silence of the morning, you grappled with the uncertainty, a delicate dance between the threads of reality and the ephemeral nature of dreams. The longing for Copia’s company lingered, an echo of the intimate moments shared, and the room retained a faint resonance of the enchantment that had unfolded.

“Ciao, Sorella,” Copia greeted, his eyes brightening as he entered, the subtle rustling of the bakery bag in his hands adding a touch of mystery to the moment. The relief that washed over you was palpable, dispelling any lingering doubts about the reality of the connection forged the day before.

“Good morning, Copia,” you responded, a genuine smile gracing your lips as he approached. The aroma of freshly baked goods wafted through the air, a delightful accompaniment to the morning sunlight that bathed the room. He hung the bag from his wrist and used his free hands to cup your cheeks, pulling you in for a passionate kiss before you had the chance to protest at your morning breath.

“I thought breakfast from a local bakery might make for a pleasant start to the day,” Copia explained, presenting the bag as if it held a treasure trove of delights. His demeanour, a blend of awkward charm and genuine warmth, echoed the sincerity of his actions. “I wanted to surprise you, but you’re out of bed.”

“I’m sorry… would you like me to get back in it?”

He nodded. “Sì. This isn’t my bed or yours, and we’re leaving in a few hours. Let’s be heathens and eat pastries under the duvet!”

As he began to unveil the contents of the bag, an array of pastries and bread emerged, each one tempting and inviting. The simple act of sharing breakfast became a moment of connection, a continuation of the unspoken understanding that had woven its way through the shared experiences of the previous day.

You climbed back into bed, watching your fully clothed Cardinal do the same - paints and all adorned on his face as though you hadn’t already seen his bareness the night before. He was chipper - even more so than before. It was nice to see him so relaxed.

The room filled with the comforting scent of fresh bakery delights, you and Copia began to enjoy the morning repast. The ambiance shifted, the initial uncertainty dissipating in the face of this shared moment of simplicity and warmth.

The conversation flowed effortlessly, a mixture of lighthearted banter and genuine interest in each other’s thoughts. As you nibbled on pastries and sipped coffee, the room seemed to come alive with the easy friendship that had developed between you and the Cardinal.

Breakfast finished slowly, lazily. Your time distracted with continuing your conversation from last night before you both fell asleep. The conversation only stilled when Copia returned to the bed, sitting atop the sheets and stroking the hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. Then, his lips were on yours.

He didn’t intend for the kiss to be anything but sweet and chaste, but soon enough, his body was positioning himself over yours and forcing you to lie back against the pillows, one hand propping him up over you, the other roaming over the sheets that covered your body. It was deep and delicious, and made your body tingle with want and your legs spread in anticipation, a silent plea for him to touch you again just as he had the night before.

When he’d removed the duvet from your body, a struggle considering he was on top of them, and had situated himself between your legs, he allowed his hands to wander all over your body as though they were trying to find a destination but kept getting lost. As more and more of your body became exposed to him, he allowed his lips to voyage across your curves, open mouthed kisses leaving trails of saliva in their wake as proof that they’d been there. Your breaths were heavy, allowing your breasts to rise and fall with the exertion. Your lips, kiss-swollen and tantalising, he just wanted to run his tongue over them and taste you in your entirety.

His lips fell upon your chest and worked their way down to your nipples. He tongued the left one, first - fingers pinching the right while he licked and sucked at the bud, groaning as if the taste of you was the most delectable dish he’d ever had the honour of eating.

“I wonder,” he began, lying on his stomach, his hands moving to your thighs and spreading your legs wide enough to slot himself between your thighs, “why Lord Lucifer kept you from me all this time?” He kissed your thigh. “Why he wasted my time on other conquests when the sweetest prize was right under my nose the whole time.”

He groaned at the sight of you; your glistening, taut heat spread and open for his personal viewing, ready and waiting for his tongue to ravish you as you deserved. He kissed up your thighs, and as he did so, you took the opportunity to pick up his hat and toss it across the room. This earned you a chuckle.

One of his fingers ran up and down your folds, catching on your clit once or twice and making you shiver and jolt with anticipation. Then, those fingers that had gathered your slick slipped into his mouth, and his eyes fluttered shut in delight. “Time to make good on my promise and make the gods jealous of you.” He told you, before diving into his newfound faith enthusiastically.

Your hands immediately flew to his hair, digits locking around his mouse-brown strands as your back arched against the wall and completely off the desk. Copia immediately went in, tongue swirling roughly around your sensitive clit and intermittently sucking at it to get those divine noises to spill from your lips. You had no thoughts of quietening yourself, not when his tongue felt like your whole world could collapse at any minute.

It didn’t take long for your hips to start bucking into his face, chasing the pleasure that he was generously giving you. His moustache scratched against your labia as his lips moved, occasionally hitting the right spots and having you clench around nothing. However his cock and his fingers felt last night, was nothing compared to the way he sucked your clit into his mouth, causing loud, uncontrollable moans to spill from your mouth into the cold morning air.

“Copia - fuck!” Your toes curled beneath you as you let out a scream, Copia still flicking his tongue quickly over your folds.

The heat inside the room rose rapidly, making it almost unbearable and causing a sheen of sweat to form on both of you. Copia trapped you in the position he so desperately wanted by firmly pressing your body down and wrapping your legs around his head. He used one arm to keep your hips pressed down while his fingers on the other were sucked into his mouth to wet them with his saliva before they were mercilessly pumped into you.

He adored the sounds you made the night before, but these sounds were entirely different. Brand new. They were boosting his ego and his confidence so much more, allowing him to get a little rougher with his ministrations, stretching you out to fit him beautifully, just as you had before.

Copia moaned as your fingers tugged at his hair, sending vibrations through your heat and throughout your cunt. The sounds that flooded the room were overshadowed by the sinful squelch your wetness made as his fingers worked up and down against that spot. Those fingers reached the parts of you that his tongue was unable to penetrate as he continued to lap at your folds. His fingers felt even better than his tongue, and that fucking moustache was going to send you to an early grave.

As he moved his face, all you could feel was the tickle of prickly hair brushing against your incredibly sensitive spot. You could feel his moustache every time he moved due to his erratic and fast his movements that had your back arching off the matress and your eyes tightly squeezing shut. You were a loud, sweaty mess completely at the mercy of Copia’s actions, and he was fully aware of his actions.

His tongue moved more quickly as you started hitting your high, and his fingers pumped harder, curling to find your favourite and most responsive spots. With his moustache, it didn’t take him long to bring you to your release. Before long, your back arched and you let out a scream as he continued to pump his fingers through your release. You clung to the bedding, needing something to vent your annoyance on. You felt filthy and unholy, Lucifer. It felt so damn good. Copia took his time caressing your folds and surrounding your cunt, savouring every last drop of your exhaled breath as you laboured to breathe. He was enamoured with you. He could never get enough of you.

“Così delizioso,” he told you, pulling back from your core, “could do this forever, amore.”

He crawled up the bed and locked his lips to yours in another desperate kiss, and you groaned at the taste of you on them. As he was on top of you, your hands began working at his robes to get him just as naked as you still were. You needed to feel his skin, needed him against your body otherwise something bad might happen. His robes were a fight and more frustrating than anything else, causing him to stand on the floor and remove everything as quickly as he could on his own, but the whole endeavour ended in a fit of giggles from the both of you as he dived back on top of you, fervently kissing you.

His cock dragged through your folds as he rubbed against you, giving himself just a little respite from the intense feeling and making you shiver with sensitivity below him. “So wet, amore. All for me, sì?”

“Yes, Copia.” You whispered, your breaths ragged and strained. “Only you.”

His cock jumped at the thought. Were you really considering giving yourself to him forever after only one night together? Were you so willing to belong to him so soon? He loved the thought - the idea that you were so enamoured by him that you just couldn’t refuse; that you didn’t want to refuse him.

“Amore, I could tell you all the things I love and adore about you and stuff your pretty cunt with my cock all day and night. You want that?”

“Yes!” Your fingers dug into his shoulders as his cock kept rubbing against your clit, now sopping wet with your juices.

He moved his hips back and, without moving his hands, lined up with your entrance. “Do you want it, amore? Do you want my cock?”

“Yes!”

“Tell me how much.”

“So much, Copia, please. I want your cock to fill me up so fucking good. Please give it to m- oh, fuck!”

He pushed inside of you before you could even finish the sentence, apparently more needy for your cunt than he thought. There was a brief ache from his pounding last night, a twinge that had your eyebrows furrowing, but your mouth hanging open at the pleasure of the stretch.

His kisses traced the same areas they did the night before, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he tried to not cum too soon, especially with the way your cunt was fluttering against him. You were twitching, as if you were begging him to move or do something. But the way he was riled up combined with the way you felt was a terrible combination that would only end in him spoiling the fun before it had even got started. You were truly delectable in every sense of the word - an addiction forming with no hope of relief. Not that he would ever be willing to quit.

“Sathanas,” he whispered into your skin, “this cunt!”

He tested the waters, thrusting once, twice, then three times before deeming his body recovered enough from the initial invasion to pick up the pace and start taking what he needed from you.

“Ah!” Each time those noises fell from your lips was when he thrusted particularly deep inside you, the head of his cock kissing your cervix beautifully and forcing the involuntary sounds to escape.

Copia was draped over you, covering you entirely; pinning you against the mattress with his full weight. There was no way you could move, no way you could think independently of the pleasure that he was putting your body through. You just had to lie there and take it with your legs wrapped around his hips trying to keep him as deep as possible so he’d keep giving you the pleasure you were desperately craving.

“Amore, you’re doing so well,” he panted, “you’re so gorgeous all wet and screaming for me. Merda! Giving yourself to me like this. An honour.”

The position he was in on top of you, and the way he pinned you down with the whole weight of his body, meant that his pubic mound was grinding against your clit, stimulating you with each grind of his hips. Your nails dug into his back and ran down it, creating red welts that Copia knew he’d wear proudly for weeks until they disappeared entirely. The feeling of your nails digging into him did something that drove him to the brink of insanity, and he found himself moving much faster than before.

You were close to cumming, but so was he. A mere few thrusts away before he was cumming deep inside your tight, wet heat, losing himself in your body as he had the night before. You felt divine - like sin itself had come alive just to torment him. He couldn’t believe you’d been there all that time and he’d not noticed you until that Black Mass a mere month ago. Yet here he was, balls deep inside you a second time, fucking you within an inch of both of your lives and needing to just… bite.

“Cumming!” You yelled, your voice high-pitched and straight out of a porno.

“That’s it, amore. Just like that. Cum all over this cock.”

Your second orgasm, just as powerful as your first, had your legs locking around Copia’s hips and forcing him deeper, restricting his wriggle room and making him take the full attack of your fluttering cunt as you spasmed beneath him. Your toes curled, your body arched as much as Copia would allow it to, and your eyes screwed tightly shut from the force of it all.

This triggered his own orgasm, cumming deep inside you and gripping onto your body so firmly, he’d leave a bruise. His face was buried in the crook of your neck, mouth attached to the skin and muffled groans emanating from the area as his hips shook with his own force. His body responded similarly to yours - as in, it was completely out of control. It wasn’t until your legs unlocked him and you allowed him some freedom to pull away, he’d noticed the hickey he’d left on your neck.

“Amore,” he said breathlessly, “I’m so sorry. Are you hurt?”

“Not at all,” you replied, brushing his sweaty hair out of his face.

He poked the hickey - it only hurt a little, as a fresh bruise usually would.

Despite being free, he fell back on top of you, using your entire body as a pillow. He was too tired to move now - too comfortable, too happy. He couldn’t possibly think about the horror that was coming… having to leave this cozy room and soft bed, the warmth of your arms, to get on a cold plane where he’d have to pretend he wasn’t utterly enamoured (and horny) by your presence alone.

But reality called, and work awaited.

This time, however, he’d have you by his side, or even underneath him, whenever he wanted.

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[book--brackets]

Summaries under the cut

Opal Plumstead by Jacqueline Wilson

Opal Plumstead might be plain, but she has always been fiercely intelligent. Yet her scholarship and dreams of university are snatched away when her father is sent to prison, and fourteen-year-old Opal must start work at the Fairy Glen sweet factory to support her family. She struggles to get along with her other workers, who think she’s snobby and stuck up. But Opal idolises Mrs Roberts, the factory’s beautiful, dignified owner. The best thing about Mrs Roberts? She’s a suffragette! Opal’s world is opened to Mrs Pankhurst, and the fight to give women the right to vote. And when Opal meets Morgan, Mrs Roberts’ handsome son, and heir to Fairy Glen- she believes she’s found her soulmate. But the First World War is about to begin, and will change Opal's life for ever.

The Lost Conspiracy by Frances Hardinge

On an island of sandy beaches, dense jungles, and slumbering volcanoes, colonists seek to apply archaic laws to a new land, bounty hunters stalk the living for the ashes of their funerary pyres, and a smiling tribe is despised by all as traitorous murderers. It is here, in the midst of ancient tensions and new calamity, that two sisters are caught in a deadly web of deceits.

Arilou is proclaimed a beautiful prophetess one of the island's precious oracles: a Lost. Hathin, her junior, is her nearly invisible attendant. But neither Arilou nor Hathin is exactly what she seems, and they live a lie that is carefully constructed and jealously guarded.

When the sisters are unknowingly drawn into a sinister, island-wide conspiracy, quiet, unobtrusive Hathin must journey beyond all she has ever known of her world and of herself in a desperate attempt to save them both. As the stakes mount and falsehoods unravel, she discovers that the only thing more dangerous than the secret she hides is the truth she must uncover.

The Ballad of Lucy Whipple by Karen Cushman

California doesn't suit Lucy Whipple—not the name, not the place. But moving out West to Lucky Diggins, California, was her mama's dream-come-true. And now her brother, Butte, and sisters, Prairie and Sierra, seem to be Westerners at heart, too. For Lucy, Lucky Diggins is hardly a town at all—just a bunch of ramshackle tents and tobacco-spitting miners. Even the gold her mama claimed was just lying around in the fields isn't panning out. Worst of all, there's no lending library! Dag diggety! So Lucy vows to be plain miserable until she can hightail it back East where she belongs. But Lucy California Morning Whipple may be in for a surprise--because home is a lot closer than she thinks...

Mister Max by Cynthia Voigt

Max Starling's theatrical father likes to say that at twelve a boy is independent. He also likes to boast (about his acting skills, his wife's acting skills, a fortune only his family knows is metaphorical), but more than anything he likes to have adventures. Max Starling's equally theatrical mother is not a boaster but she enjoys a good adventure as much as her husband. When these two disappear, what can sort-of-theatrical Max and his not-at-all theatrical grandmother do? They have to wait to find out something, anything, and to worry, and, in Max's case, to figure out how to earn a living at the same time as he maintains his independence.

MacDonald Hall by Gordon Korman

Bruno and Boots are always in trouble. So the Headmaster, aka "The Fish" decides it would be best to separate them. Bruno must now room with ghoulish Elmer Dimsdale, plus his plants, goldfish, and ants. And Boots is stuck with nerdy, preppy, paranoid George Wexford-Smyth III.

Of course, this means war. Because Bruno and Boots are determined to get their old room back, no matter what it takes.

And the skunk is only the beginning....

The Candy Shop War by Brandon Mull

What if there were a place where you could get magical candy? Moon rocks that made you feel weightless. Jawbreakers that made you unbreakable. Or candy that gave animals temporary human intelligence and communication skills. (Imagine what your pet would say!) Four young friends, Nate, Summer, Trevor, and Pigeon, are befriended by Belinda White, the owner of a new candy shop on Main Street. However, the gray-haired, grandmotherly Mrs. White is not an ordinary candy maker. Her confections have magical side effects. Purposefully, she invites the kids on a special mission to retrieve a hidden talisman under Mt. Diablo Elementary School. However, Mrs. White is not the only magician in town in search of the ancient artifact rumored to be a fountain of youth. She is aware that Mr. Stott, the not-so-ordinary ice cream truck driver, has a few tricks of his own.

Beacon Street Girls by Annie Bryant

Charlotte Ramsey is the new girl again. After causing the biggest cafeteria blunder in history, Charlotte's assigned lunch partners-the very stylish Katani, irrepressible Avery, and super-friendly Maeve-can't wait to dump her. Can it get any worse? Absolutely! Nobody is talking, and Katani wants out of the group. What a mess! Can the girls become true friends or will they remain worst enemies forever?

Rose by Holly Webb

The grand residence of the famous alchemist, Mr Fountain, is a world away from the dark orphanage Rose has left behind. For the house is positively overflowing with sparkling magic—she can feel it. And it’s not long before Rose realises that maybe, just maybe, she has a little bit of magic in her, too. . . .

A Traveler in Time by Alison Uttley

This unusual novel is set in rural Derbyshire in the old manor house, Thackers, where the Babington family and their servant, Cicely Taberner, lived when Elizabeth I was Queen of England. The descendants of the Taberners have farmed the land through the centuries, and to the Taberners of the present day comes Penelope, their great-niece, a sensitive, imaginative girl, who is aware of other layers of time. With her awakened vision she sees people of the past move in their daily tasks among those of the present, and behind the contented life of the household of Cicely and Barnabas Taberner she finds the old tragedy of Anthony Babington and his plot to save Mary, Queen of Scots, being re-enacted. The farm kitchen where Penelope sits with her great-aunt and great-uncle is the home of those others who once lived there. Their desires and fears, their courage and strength enter the girl's mind; their voices float up from the garden and she is caught up into their life. Time is annihilated, and she lives in the closing years of the sixteenth century remembering little of her modern life, until she returns from her traveling in time bearing the anxieties and dreams of the other world. The life of two widely separated times in history - the Elizabethan and the present - goes on simultaneously, each invisible to the other. And only Penelope can pierce the veil, sharing the tumultuous experiences of the Babington family three hundred years ago.

The Deptford Mice by Robin Jarvis

 In the sewers of Deptford, there lurks a dark presence that fills the tunnels with fear. The rats worship it in the blackness and name it "Jupiter, Lord of All." Into this twilight realm wanders a small and frightened mouse-the unwitting trigger of a chain of events that hurtles the Deptford mice into a world of heroic adventure and terror.

[frozenprocedural]

Merry Christmas

Couldn't think of a better title. Modern AU, no specific one!

Rating: T

“Merry Christmas, Älskling.”

She comes awake slowly, rolling over to face him, burrowing into his warmth. His arms wrap around her, hands rubbing her back in slow, easy motions. 

“Merry Christmas to you.” She lifts her head while he lowers his, and their lips meet- slow, gentle pressure. She squeaks when he hauls her onto his chest, but settles in, liking the change in position. It means her hands can roam…

A soft whimpering cry over the baby monitor breaks them apart. Alarik's face breaks into a wide smile, and he lifts his head to press a kiss to her forehead. 

“Someone's hungry. I'll go get him.”

Elsa chuckles, carefully extracting herself from him, lying back and undoing the buttons of her nightshirt as he rises and leaves their room. Even though Dag is their second child, Alarik still treats every moment with him with wonder and delight, just as he did (and still does) with Jenny. 

Sure enough, Alarik's face is split into a wide grin as he shushes their son, speaking in a soft, almost reverent tone.

“Shhhhh, now, shhhhh. Mama's right there. See? Just right there.”

He sets Dag into her waiting arms, then settles beside her, one arm curling around her shoulder. Dag is quick to latch on, and despite what she's been told- every doctor and nurse and family member reassuring her- Elsa is still almost overwhelmed by relief to feel him suckling, to know that she can provide him nourishment. 

That he'll live.

It isn't until Alarik's thumb brushes her cheeks that she realizes she's crying. She sniffles, offering a whispered apology to Dag when the movement jostles him. 

“He's alright, darling.”

She sighs, leaning into him, finding strength, as she always does, in his presence. She doesn't answer him, doesn't need to- but instead rests her head on his shoulder and watches Dag nurse. 

He would be alright. 

Their peaceful moment is broken by the sound of Jenny bursting through the door, clambering up on their bed and bouncing excitedly. 

“Mama, Papa, come on, it's Christmas!”

Dag pulls away with a reedy wail, and Elsa opens her mouth to reprimand, but Alarik squeezes her shoulder and she turns back to him, helping him latch back on.

“Eldig, remember…?”

“Be gentle with Mama and Dag. Sorry” Her voice has a sullen note to it. 

Elsa sighs, but frees a hand to squeeze Jenny's shoulder. “Thank you, little one. I know it's exciting, but Dag's still growing.” At Jenny's crestfallen expression, Elsa smiled and cast a quick glance at Dag. “Why don't you see if Bestemor and Bestefar are ready? I'm sure Aunt Anna will be starting the pancakes soon as well. We'll be down when Dag's done eating.”

At the mention of pancakes, Jenny hops off the bed, calling out for her grandparents. 

“Let her go, Elsa.” Alarik murmurs. “She deserves the fun.”

Elsa shakes her head, and looks back down at Dag, who has fallen asleep and off her breast, his mouth moving as if still nursing. She chuckles, handing him over to Alarik to burp as she wipes herself and fixes her nightgown. No need to change- pajamas at Christmas are a tradition. 

A few minutes later, they arrive downstairs to a bustle of activity- Anna and Iduna cheerfully arguing about the best pancake recipe, Agnarr and Kristoff placing the last gifts on the massive pile, while Neta and Jenny weave their way around the adults. When Jenny catches sight of them, her face breaks into a grin. Taking Alarik's earlier advice, she hands Dag over to him, kneels, and opens her arms to catch her daughter in a hug. 

“Merry Christmas, Mama!”

“Merry Christmas, Jenny.”

A Merry Christmas indeed.

[vacantgodling]

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

hewwo thank you for asking <3 i'm gonna randomize some wips and give u a nice lil ramble lol

(1) train master chidori

in terms of me redesigning folami, i think i'm also gonna tweak her personality a bit too. i want to give her braids and slicked down baby hairs instead of the initial poofs that i had her with previously--and i think that may change which association creature/thing that i want her to be associated with bc i mostly just associated her with poodles because of her hair LOL. in terms of her personality, i originally made her a bit airheaded but i think i may kinda wanna give her more mature vibes since she's technically gonna be the oldest and most experienced of chidorky's crew. more... zakuro from tmm energy tbh. i think that may be the vibe i wanna go for for her lol.

(2) celestial weddings

beloved extremely wholesome polycule shenanigans lol. i think the one character that i know much less about their romance arc with dag is muu? muu is from denjai, which is the fourth sphere and its a swampland and marshy type of place. muu themself is the youngest of all of dag's lovers and it definitely shows in how upbeat they are and how they very much look up to dag in an almost hero worship kind of way. tbh they probably have the senpai/kouhai romantic relationship arc and ngl its very cute. muu also flaps their hands whenever they get excited about something and they tend to stumble over their words when they get excited, which is a lot lol.

(3) nondisclosure

i used to be sooo back and forth about nyseah and 17's relationship when i made the characters many many moons before; (and actually now that i think about it, most of the characters from that wip, except everything relating to owen and helios's storyline still exists in this version of the story lol. idk if i'll ever go back to those two characters but they did have a sweet relationship, it was just SO thematically different than everything else that was going on, which is how it developed into what i call now nondisclosure LOL) i actually kind of wanted them to get together only because i built up 17 to be a sort of "he's justified for his actions and he actually does care about nyssie.... somehow" back then. but i think i was also biased because he was one of the first "morally grey characters" i really ever made and i suppose back then i was much simpler in what i wanted from those kinds of characters.

when i think about nondisclosure now, 17 barely plays a role in it from what i think. tbh i think 12 plays more of a role than he does and that's because i'm obsessed with 12 and i think everyone should be obsessed with 12 but this isn't about him this is about 17 and nyssie. i think it works better for nyssie to not get with him in the end because like he seriously violated her in a way that younger me didn't really see an issue with (thanks ya and anime for not thinking this kind of relationship was bad or that it could be fixed LMAOOO... not to say that i don't enjoy making those kinds of relationships now, its just the fact that now i'm more likely to lean into the relationship being fucked up LMAO). anyway tho, mama nyssie and her brood of kiddos is the best ending for her because its the one where she's the happiest :D

(4) sixteen candles

ranger being aromantic makes so much of how he acted in all of the old chapters that i wrote many moons ago make so much fucking sense. like seriously, he was soooo noncommittal to the point of it being basically a meme, and even tho the friend i would talk with about these characters at the time helped me make a character for him to be with and i 'enjoyed' it to a certain extent, it always felt kind of off? and i think its because the person ranger will always be the closest with is always gonna be nanette, like they are inseperable and i think them defining a qpr is actually So Fucking Good for them. i'm kinda obsessed with their dynamic ngl, adn i also like the idea that ranger is just like down to fuck all of his besties and at the same time they all have a relationship with each other where that's just a thing that they do.

i really need to work on roger tho because he is so conflicted about a lot of things. not just to get him open to the fucking really, but mostly just because he has the roughest go of it relating to family and it kinda hits home for me personally a bit, so in some ways i feel like idk how i should handle it. but overall, love they. i should think about them more tbh LOL

(5) the liminal space series (overall)

chloe being involved in jenna's story is honest to god still so funny to me. like here's this "average" small town popular girl, who's popular by virtue of being normal enough and outgoing enough that everyone likes her, but having a bit of an alt style so people think she's edgy and unique and then all of a sudden she's hanging out with the town weirdos trying to hunt down a what? what did you say it was jenna? a chupa--WhAT?

and the fact that she's so taken aback with how casually jenna says that she likes her that it just takes her and her sexuality for a wild ride and at the end of it all she has to go to college and pretend that she didn't just have the craziest senior year/summer of her fucking life LMAOOO its just so funny to me.

[deberghuthorizon]

Boerderijklassen... het zit er (spijtig genoeg) alweer op!

Met de ganse klas keken we heel erg uit naar deze twee dagen. En het stelde helemaal niet teleur!

De eerste dag bracht Claudine ons naar Pierlapont in Loppem. Na een warme ontvangst op de boerderij deden we een ritje op de pony, gingen we mee met de boer op toer, bakten we brood, volgden het Pierlapad en gingen we op tocht met de huifkar. Met de zon op onze snoet speelden we buiten en werkten we mee op de boerderij! Nadien gingen we langs op de boerderij van Dries & Evelyn. Boer Dries toonde ons de werking van zijn boerderij. We telden 200 koeien, maakten kennis met zijn machines (en mochten zelfs even in de tractor plaatsnemen...!) en we mochten proeven van de meest verse melk ter wereld. Te voet stapten we naar school waar we ons bed maakten en wat nagenoten op de speelplaats. Nadat juf An en Steffie (de vrouw van onze meester) ons trakteerden op heerlijke spaghetti keken we in de klas naar een leuke film.

Een nacht in de turnzaal... spannend! Maar toch was het heel snel stil in onze slaapzaal. Misschien zat de vermoeidheid daar voor iets tussen?

De tweede dag zetten we in met een muziekje. De één was al sneller wakker dan de ander maar samen slaagden we er snel in om onze bedden terug af te breken en te genieten van een heerlijk ontbijt (dankjewel mama en papa van Marley!).

Nadien gingen we terug op pad. Claudine bracht ons naar het Kakelend Kippenmuseum. De druppels in de lucht hielden ons niet tegen! We zagen ontzettend veel meer dan enkel kippen: van struisvogels tot dromedarissen, van papegaaien tot ezels. De boerin vertelde ons erg interessante zaken over het leven van een kip - zo maakten we live de geboorte van een kuiken uit een ei mee! We knuffelden nog wat met de geitjes (wat niet iedereen durfde) en nadien bracht Claudine ons helemaal terug naar school.

In de klas genoten we nog wat na en dan was het alweer tijd om onze mama's en papa's welverdiend terug in de armen te vliegen. Of het een toptijd was? Absoluut! Dankjewel aan de papa van Meester Arne om twee dagen met ons mee te gaan, meester Luk om ons gezelschap te houden, juf An voor de heerlijke maaltijden en hulp, Claudine om ons overal naartoe te rijden, meester Diego voor de hulp, de vrouw van meester Arne voor de hulp, Dries en Evelyn, Pierlapont en het Kakelend Kippenmuseum. Ook nog eens een enorm grote dank aan de ouders voor het vertrouwen en aan alle leerlingen uit de Berghut: jullie zijn de allerbeste!

[l5-gbsdehorizon]

Leve mama!

Geniet van jullie dag.

We zien jullie graag. Niet normaal! ❤️

[k3fanblog]

Results of the best KKJ song bracket!!!

Congrats to Mamasé for being the best KKJ song! Also not pictured here, but Meiden van de brandweer gets a honorary mention for coming 4th.

Some fun stats:

Lollypopland, Beroemd and Niet-verjaardagsfeest had the biggest increase when compared to the full K3 bracket, Lollypopland was originally ranked 24th but managed to become 9th! Beroemd was ranked 21st and came 8th and Niet-verjaardagsfeest was ranked 28th but came 18th!

The biggest losers are Eya Hoya! and Willem Alexander, both losing 14 spots in the ranking

When looking at the albums, Eyo was the most popular, the average rank is 20.33, the next album is Mamasé (24.67) and then at a distance Engeltjes (32.92), Loko Le (35.69) and Alice in Wonderland (36.60). (The two singles without an album are K3 Loves you at place 20 and K3 kan het! at place 31.)

Full ranking below the cut! Though because of Tumblr lists it doesn't show ties, so it's only fully accurate until the 27th spot. (If anyone wants the full data feel free to message me)

So next is the HKM bracket, per popular demand it's going to be a 64 song bracket starting with a group stage that I will probably put up early next week so stay posted!

And that was it for the KKJ bracket, thanks everyone for voting and reblogging, it was a lot of fun to read your opinions and sometimes even song analyses! Hope to see you back for the HKM bracket!

MaMaSé

Waar zijn die engeltjes

Hallo K3

Meiden van de brandweer

Eyo!

Loko le

Zwaai als je verliefd bent

Beroemd

Lollypopland

K3-Airlines

Leukste van het land

Willem-Alexander

Handjes draaien

De politie

Ster

Drums gaan boem

Alice in Wonderland

Telepathie

Niet-verjaardagsfeest

K3 Loves You!

Parapluutje

Wanneer zie ik jou terug

Zeg eens AAA

Niet normaal

Filmster

Koning Willem-Alexander

Smoorverliefd

De revolutie

Geloof in jezelf

Dubbeldekkertrein

K3 Kan Het!

Eya Hoya!

Jurkje

Viva viool

Wat jij doet met mij

Blankenberge

Mijn liefje achterna

Kitty

En ik dans

Bel me ringeling

Kinderen baas

Kusje van jou

Hey hey

Cowboys en indianen

Alles kan in Wonderland

Verstoppertje

Gigaleuke dag

Vind ik leuk

Onder water

Ik wil naar huis

Doe de bloemendans

Naar de film

Op de kermis

Wie zal ik een kusje geven

Het steltenlied

Alleen door jou

Hiep hiep hoera

Mama kan alles

Radio

Leugentje leugentje

Ik wil niet naar huis gaan 

[bitchinbarzal]

can i request #6. “She’s my tiny valentines” with Elias Pettersson

“What You making baby?” You ask, leaning over Astrid to see the mess she was making on the counter.

“Kärleksmums!” She cheers happily, showing you the mess on her hands.

You reach around and grab some coconut to shove into your mouth “Yum… is daddy helping you?”

“Yep!”

You kiss her cheek “okay baby you have fun”

Then Elias walks in “Ah you’re home!”

“I am” You smile, kissing him softly “I see you’re teaching our girl all about Alla Hjärtans Dag”

He smirks at your very butchered pronunciation “That I am… she’s my tiny valentine”

“Not for long” You sigh, rubbing your very prominent bump “got an even tinier one incoming”

Astrid then chirps “Is okay baby sister can be my valentine mama!”

You both smile at eachother “That’s so sweet thank you kärlek” 

Elias hums “I’ve got enough space in my heart for all my girls”

[elisadhondt]

Dag 3 jungle trekking part one

Deze ochtend om 9u vertrokken vanuit bukit lawang, vol gespoten met muggenspray ook op de sokken tegen de leeches (bloedzuigers) en met 3 rugzakken met elk 1,5l water , vergezeld door 1 ranger en een helper. de eerste uren kwamen we nog geregeld grote groepen dagjestoeristen tegen en al gauw zagen we een eerste orang oetan, hoog in de bomen. In totaal 6,5 u onderweg in een verzengende hitte, kletsnat van t zweet, bergop en bergaf. Geregelde stops waar we lekker fruit kregen aangeboden (ramboetan, ananas, passiefruit, watermeloen) heerlijk! Lunch in een banananblad met pindarijst, kroepoek komkommer en tomaat, en plots op lunchplek spotte de gids een mama en 2 kindjes (1 en 6j ong) orang oetan. Ze kwamen tot op een meter of 3 boven en voor ons, ongelofelijk, Amazing en breathtaking. Nog 10000 ong in de wereld , alleen in Noord Sumatra waarvan 6000 in het nationaal park gunung Leuser waar we nu ziijn. Ook longtail en pigtail monkeys gezien , een reuze fazant en een rhino toekan. Hoe dieper ik de jungle hoe schuwer. De dieren. Lastige tocht met zeer steile klims en gevaarlijke afdalingen, gelukkig konden we ons af en toe aan een liaan of touw vasthouden. Dappere meiden, om het uur losten ze elkaar af om de rugzak te dragen, goed getimed. En dan hoorden we de rivier en zagen we de tenten: zeer primitief: 2 muskietennetten met elk 2 matrassen in een grote legerachtige tent en ongeveer 8 andere toeristen en 10 lokalen. Aankomst 14u30. Thee en koffie en koekjes geserveerd in tin servies (zoals in de Tarn toen ik klein was) , smaakte heerlijk. Alixe en ik snel in de 20gr warme rivier, heeelijk op af te koelen en op temperatuur te komen. Dan na een uurtje of 2 ook Helena er in. Jammer genoeg gaan kaarten mee, en geen alcohol of cola te verkrijgen en geen stoel te bespeuren… om den duur een stijf gat en om 18u15 diner: tofu, seitan, gele groente urry, rijst, soort rösti van patat, en kip met kaka smurrie (soort kaneel pasta) zalig lekker : een 8,5/10 beste eten tot nog toe!! Nog een kikker gespot (Helena) en een giftige slang (Alice) waar de gidsen ook bang van waren! Met de meiden samen met komplamp naar t toilet (een echt, maar zonder sas)

WoordSpelletjes gedaan en veel gelachen. Om 20u in bed net voor de giga regenbui. Zonder tanden poetsen want dat zagen we niet meer zitten…

Intense dag geweest en veel grenzen verlegd (nog nooit zo n inspanning gedaan in die hitte) morgen terug naar boven (2 a 3 u stappen) en dan met tubing op de rivier (luckas zonder zwembroek)

[uiltjesklask3]

Dag van de leekracht

Dank jullie wel mama's en papa's dat ik jullie (onze 😊) schatten elke dag in mijn klasje dingen mag bijleren, voor het vertrouwen en de fijne samenwerking. Samen maken we jou kind GROOT EN GELUKKIG ♥️

[remidavs]

Bewogen weken…

Weken van vermoeidheid en herstel met tussen de rust door mooie momenten… gelukkig bracht die rust wat moest en kan ik zeggen dat we aan de helft van het eerste deel zitten… yes, al zover! ☺️ en voorlopig ook niks meer van de tumor te voelen 🤞🏻🙏 ik ga ervan uit dat dat zo blijft, maar we blijven voorzichtig he 🙃

Ik ben dankbaar voor de vele steun en hulp die het mogelijk maken om voldoende rust te nemen en de kinderen vakantie geven…

Ondanks de vermoeidheid na de korte ziekenhuisopname, probeerde ik het beste te maken, zeker met het extra weekje rust dat mijn lichaam kreeg. Dat het weekje rust niet overbodig was, merkte ik aan mijn lichaam en de blijvende vermoeidheid. Vandaar dat ik zo blij ben voor de mooie momenten die de voorbije twee weken geschonken zijn door vrienden, familie en in het bijzonder voor alles wat Jan en de kinderen en mijn ouders er extra bij nemen voor me. Extra taken, meer rekening houden met me, begrip voor hoe het loopt…

we vierden Jan zijn verjaardag in het midden van deze twee weken, maar dit was toch wel anders dan de voorbije jaren… dat belooft volgend jaar goed gemaakt te moeten worden 😉

De kinderen mochten tot twee keer toe bij vriendjes gaan spelen en hadden daar een fantastische tijd terwijl ik kon uitrusten.

We gingen naar Bruisend Balegem (tussen mijn rustbeurtjes door) waar de kinderen verwend werden met een prachtige haartooi en waar Remi zijn liefde voor Willy Sommers mocht ontdekken…

Een nicht van me kwam met haar zoontje spelen en nam het entertainment van de kinderen op zich waar ze enorm van genoten…

Ze gingen bij opa en omda zwemmen terwijl mama kon rusten en gingen op wandel en fietstocht om de allergrootste maïs in Reninge te gaan bewonderen… en of die groot was.

Tussen alle nood aan rust is dus ook voldoende tijd voor het leven en nu zeker de vakantie van de kinderen die doorgaat. We blijven gewoon doorgaan en of het nog wel een lastig wordt, natuurlijk. Het is pittig maar dat wil niet zeggen dat het ondanks alles ook geen mooie periode kan zijn…

Ik kreeg nog heerlijke bloemen van mijn collega’s en mocht tijdens de lange therapiedag met immunotherapie en chemotherapie heel wat collega’s verwelkomen en kon genieten van het gezelschap van mijn schoonzus… fijner kind je zo’n dag toch niet wensen… wetende dat zo ook de jongens een dagje samen hadden en dat Ida w er verwend werd met aandacht en heerlijk spelen in de Lieving.

🥰 gezien de omstandigheden kan ik toch alleen maar blij zijn met hoe het loopt en wie we rondom ons hebben…

Altijd een fijn weerzien van vrienden en een warm omringd zijn. Zeeeeeeer veel liefde is wat ik voel en wil uit sturen 😘❤️💕♥️

[glorytovalhalla]

Potential MMFR AU/Head cannon

Tw: Mentions of Nux x Max, Max x Nux, Canon Divergence, Shipping, Don't like, Don't interact(Block the Max x Nux tag as well as the Nux x Max tag if you don't want to see this kind of stuff)

Imagine a AU where Max goes back to the wreckage to scavenge for supplies and miraculously finds Nux alive(He was thrown half-way out of the rig because no seatbelts in MMFR.) Max finds him burned badly across the left side of his body, Multiple broken ribs and a broken leg. Max decides to take him back to the citadel and have organic mechanic see to him.

Eventually, on one of Max's scavenger trips he finds a MP3 Player and decides to bring it back with him. And after explaining to Nux and the others about how it works, Max plays some music from it(The music was in pre made Playlists, made by someone who had died recently in the wasteland)

Capable, Cheedo, Toast, The Dag and Furiosa are calmed by the sound of music as it reminds them(Furiosa especially) of being sang to as a child.

However, Nux is enraptured by it; practically obsessed as every moment he gets to spend with Max is accompanied by some form of music.

Eventually, through that music is how Nux slowly starts to develop romantic feelings for Max, and obviously the poor war boy is horrified by that fact and starts avoiding Max like the plague.

Now obviously the Immortan never taught them about love, and even when he did It was about having women to breed and use only for the making of children. Joe never taught them about men, he never even taught them about love. So now Nux is falling hard and fast for a man that probably wouldn't even want someone like him anyways.

Eventually Max confronts Nux about his avoidance, and Nux lies; says that he'd just gotten so obsessed with building a new war rig that he never had the time to see Max.

A few weeks go by, and one night when Max is headed out for a supply run. Nux tags along, feeling guilty about avoiding Max for so long. It's out on the road that night, that Nux finds it impossible to force his feelings down. As usual Max plays some music in the car while they're stationary, and for some reason Nux's leg started acting up so Max offered to massage it for him, sympathizing with the boy's pain.

It was that night that Nux confessed, spilling his feelings out to the man knelt in front of him. And to his shock, Max actually felt the same

If anyone's curious Max's favorite songs are: My boy, NDA, Therefore I Am, Halley's comet(Billie Eilish), The other side of paradise(Glass Animals)

Nux's Favorite songs are: Everything I wanted, I Love you, Wish you were Gay, TV(Billie Eilish), Daddy Issues, Cry Baby, Softcore(The Nbhd), Dreamland, Mama's Gun, Poplar St, Helium(Glass Animals)

Furiosa's Favorite songs: That's my girl(Fifth Harmony), Think therefore I am(Billie Eilish), Youth(Daughter), Fever(Dua Lipa & Angèle)

I'll have to think about the Wives favorite songs later, but I think they'd be fine with any of the ones above.

Hope this wasn't too cringe, it's my first MMFR post on Tumblr so please be gentle. Hope this fandom's still kicking. 😊

[cactusklas]

Hartelijk bedankt mama van Mats om ons vandaag een ontspannend momentje te bezorgen om de dag te beëindigen. Heel hart genoten van uw voorleesmomentje 📖💚

[disneyanddisneyships]

@gyubby99 I'm back on my bullshit

Warnings: blood, violence, descriptions of blood and gore, death, guns, E is her own warning.... Alastor being a dumbass father. I'm gonna say since hellborn can travel to different rings, then Theo can too cuz he was born in hell he hasn't rlly done anything wrong.

Summary: Theo just got back from and advanced boarding school in the greed ring, only to find out someone has been talking bad about his family. he confronts the problem. But things don't turn out how he had hoped....

Blow us All Away

Meet the latest graduate of King's College I prob'ly shouldn't brag, but, dag, I amaze and astonish The scholars say I got the same virtuosity and brains as my pops The ladies say my brain's not where the resemblance stops I'm only nineteen but my mind is older Gotta be my own man, like my father, but bolder I shoulder his legacy with pride, I used to hear him say That someday I would (blow us all away!)

Theo got out of the golden car, stopping in front of his house and turning to the back seat where his mom's friend smiled at him.

"Remember to call me or my cousin if you need anything," Furcalor smiled.

"Yeah I got it. Thanks auntie!" Theo exclaimed before walking up the front steps and into his house. "Mom? I'm home!" He yelled as he placed his bags near the door.

"Theo! Hey bug!" Aponi smiled as she walked toward her son, giving him a giant hug. "I missed you!" She exclaimed, kissing all over his face.

"Mama! Por favor!" Theo pleaded as he giggled.

Aponi scoffed and pulled away.

"Emma has been asking for you, amor," Aponi stated with a smirk.

Theo blushed. "Oh!" He squeaked.

Aponi laughed and began to walk toward the kitchen.

"Where's dad?" He asked as he followed his mom, sitting on the bar stool.

"Uh..... he.. hasn't been living here for a while, mi vida," Aponi replied, not making eye contact.

How was she supposed to tell her son about his father's affair?

"Oh......" He trailed off.

"Dinner is gonna be a while if you wanna go for a walk.. stop by the hotel or something," Aponi suggested.

Theo shrugged. "That's alright with me. See you in an hour?"

"Of course!" Aponi replied.

After some goodbyes, Theo walked out the door. He started whistling a tune as he walked until he heard the voice of one of his Mom's other friends.

"Oh, hey kiddo!" Angel dust exclaimed as he leaned against a brick wall.

"Hey uncle Angie!" Theo replied.

"You here cause of E?" Angel asked.

".... no... why?"

"Oh.. just thought ya would be, given all the shit she's been saying bout ya mom and dad," Angel replied.

"What?" Theo raised an eyebrow.

"Ya know. Calling ya mom a whore and ya dad an asshole, scoundrel," Angel stated. "You... you knew about that right?"

"... yeah! Yeah definitely!" Theo lied before walking away.

Ladies, I'm lookin for a Mr. George Eacker Made a speech last week, our Fourth of July speaker He disparaged my father's legacy in front of a crowd I can't have that, I'm making my father proud I saw him just up Broadway a couple of blocks, he was goin' to see a play Well, I'll go visit his box (god, you're a fox!) And y'all look pretty good in ya' frocks How 'bout when I get back, we all strip down to our socks? (ooh, okay!)

Theo ran to Emma's house, praying that she still lived with her parents.

"Oh, hey Theo!" Mal stated from her front porch.

"Hey! Where's Emma?" He asked.

"Living room. When you're done doing whatever youre doing today, come by and hang out!" Mal called to Theo as he ran into the house.

"Emma?" He called when he got to the living room.

"Theo?"

Theo turned around and broke into a huge smile before Emma practically tackled him.

"I missed you!" She exclaimed as she hugged him tightly.

"I missed you too, beautiful!" He stated, happily. "Hey, real quick, do you know where E is?" Theo asked.

"Uh.... yeah.... why?" She asked.

"Shes been talking crap about my mom. I wanna confront her about it," Theo replied.

"Are you sure that's the best idea? She's not very......" Emma trailed off.

"I promise I'll be fine," Theo rolled his eyes, giving Emma a kiss on the cheek.

Emma sighed. "Val's club," she stated.

"Thanks baby! I'll be back in like 3 hours after I eat dinner with my mom okay?" Theo asked.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Blow us all away

Theo ran out of the front door, toward Valentino's club.

George (shh!) George! (shh, I'm tryin' to watch the show!) Ya shoulda watched your mouth before you talked about my father though I didn't say anything that wasn't true Your father's a scoundrel, and so, it seems, are you It's like that? Yeah, I don't fool around, I'm not your little schoolboy friends Well, see you on the dueling ground That is, unless you wanna step outside and go now I know where to find you, piss off, I'm watchin' this show now

Theo walked into the club, shielding his eyes from all the women and men who had been dancing and grinding on practically everything.

That's when he glanced up to see E in Valentino's private box, sitting on his lap.

"e!" He yelled, but was quiet among the loud noise and music. "E!!!" He yelled louder.

"Shut up, I'm trying to watch the dance!" E called down.

"You should've watched your mouth before you talked about my parents though!" Theo shouted up.

The music stopped. Dead silence.

"I didn't say anything that isn't true! Your father's and asshile, and so it's seems, are you!" E called back down, glaring at Theo. "Look kid, I don't fuck around. I'm not your little schoolgirl friends," E stated.

"Then I'll see you on the dueling ground!" Theo yelled. "Unless you wanna step outside and fight now?"

"I know where to find you. Fuck off. I'm watching the show now," E stated with a scowl, leaning back into Valentino.

Theo growled and walked to his father's studio.

Pops, if you had only heard the shit he said about you I doubt you would have let it slide and I was not about to (slow down!) I came to ask you for advice, this is my very first duel They don't exactly cover this subject in boarding school

"Dad, if you had only HEARD the crap she said about you! I doubt you would've let it slide! I was not about to!" Theo explained as he sat in his father's studio.

"Slow down Theodore, please. I'm busy," Alastor dismissed.

"I came to ask for advice! This is my first fight and they don't exactly cover this subject at school," Theo ranted.

Alastor sighed, his smile faltering but making its way onto his face again.

Did your friends attempt to negotiate a peace? He refused to apologize, we had to let the peace talks cease Where is this happening? Across the river, in Jersey Everything is legal in New Jersey!

"Did you attempt to negotiate peace?" Alastor asked, setting aside his papers and work.

"She didn't apologize, so no," Theo replied sheepishly.

"Where is this going to take place?" Alastor wondered.

"Down in the wrath ring," Theo replied.

Alastor sighed as they both spoke at the same time. "Everything is legal in the wrath ring...."

Alright, so this is what you're gonna do Stand there like a man until Eacker is in front of you When the time comes, fire your weapon in the air This will put an end to the whole affair But what if he decides to shoot? Then I'm a goner No, he'll follow suit if he's truly a man of honor To take someone's life, that is something you can't shake Philip, your mother can't take another heartbreak Father! Promise me! You don't want this young man's blood on your conscience Okay, I promise Come back home when you're done Take my guns, be smart, make me proud, son

Alastor stood up, walking away from his desk and toward his son.

"Alright, this is what you should do. Stand there like a man until E is in front of you. When the time is right, fire your weapon into the air. This will put an end to the entire affair," Alastor explained.

"But what if she decides to shoot? Then I'm a goner," Theo replied.

"And make me angry? She wouldn't dare... but son, taking someone's life is... something you cannot take back.... Theo your mother can't take another heartbreak," Alastor stated sadly.

"But dad i-"

"Promise me! You dont want someone's blood on your conscience," Alastor pleaded, something he never did.

"... I promise," The muttered.

Alastor sighed and he walked toward the wall, opening a. Picture aponi had painted by dancing. Behind it was a small safe with a holy gun.

"Go back home when it's done. Be smart. These are your mother's. Make me proud, son," Alastor smiled genuinely.

Theo took the weapons with shaky hands.

My name is Philip I am a poet And I'm a little nervous, but I can't show it I'm sorry, I'm a Hamilton with pride You talk about my father, I cannot let it slide

Theo walked out of the building, the gun heavy in his pocket as he walked toward where he needed to be.

Mister Eacker, how was the rest of your show? I'd rather skip the pleasantries, let's go Grab your pistol (confer with your men) The duel will commence after we count to ten (count to ten!)

As the cab dropped Theo off at the arranged area, E was already standing there, seemingly bored.

"Elise! How was the performance?" Theo asked, attempting to be civil.

"I'd rather skip the pleasantries. Let's go," she scolded.

Theo took a deep breath and walked to where he needed to go.

Look 'em in the eye, aim no higher Summon all the courage you require Then slowly and clearly aim your gun towards the sky! 1 2 3 4 5 6 7-

Theo looked at E, her eyes shone nothing. She was unbothered.

Theo shook it off as he raised his gun toward to the sky, even before they got to ten.

Theo counted along in his mind.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven-

*bang*

........

A knock on Aponi's door.

A knock and her whole life crumpled to the ground.

"Something happened, Aponi," a demon stated. "Theo has been shot,"

Silence.

Then a ringing in her ear.

Then her feet moving as fast as she could.

So fast they couldn't go anymore. So fast that her wings sprouted from her back and she flew as fast as she could to the hospital he was in. Thankfully in the pride ring.

Aponi burst the door open and stood, frozen in her tracks as she looked at her son.

"NO!"