#process church of the final judgement

[eyesofveronicamars]

[myers-meadow]

Wheat fields: Tommy x reader

Title: Wheat fields, or: Picnic date ✨🌻🌱 Part one here.

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x f! reader

Summary: After running into Tommy and sharing a kiss or two, he finally asks you out. He takes you outside the city for a wonderful picnic, where you share more than those chaste kisses from before.

Word count: 2201

Warnings: none. fluff. They have a few glasses of wine. Soft Tommy.

This is a continuation of Chance Meetings, but I'm sure it's good as a standalone one-shot too. Thank you so much to @moxleyhorror for beta reading and giving me the encouragment I needed to get this done! <3 Dividers by @saradika-graphics. I'd love to hear what you think! Enjoy! <3

After those first few meetings, you couldn't stop thinking about him. 'It was just a kiss', you had to remind yourself, 'nothing more. And it certainly doesn't mean anything.' Yet, when you ran into him again when purchasing a newspaper, your heart surged, and you knew he'd break your heart if you let him.

"Fancy seeing you here," Tommy said, voice so soft only you could hear, leaning in as you went up to the counter to pay. "I'd almost suspect you were following me, with how often this keeps happening."

"You'd think so," you hummed, trying not to go weak in the knees as you remember the kiss and hushed words that were your last meeting. "It's coincidental for sure."

Before you could find a the right amount of pennies in your purse, Tommy already pressed two coins on the counter, and led you out of the small store with a firm hand on the small of your back. You looked back hesistantly but his voice drew your attention back to him.

"You don't believe in fate?"

"No. Do you?"

He shook his head. Even outside, he didn't let go of your waist. He glanced around from under his cap, letting the shadow fall over his eyes, as he surveyed the street. "Listen. This weekend, are you free on Sunday? Be it after church, if you need." His piercing blue eyes looked at you from under the rim of his cap. Seeing your confusion, he cleared his throat and said; "I'd like to take you out."

For a moment, your heart skipped a beat, as the full weight of what he was asking slowly processed. He'd break your heart, for sure, it felt like. There's no other way for this to end. Another private moment with Tommy... He'd have it beat so fast, that just a look from him, a soft smile, soft spoken priase, would send your heart in a frenzy and there's nothing you could even think of to stop him from doing so. Yet, as your mind flared with worry, insecurity, better judgement - it was your heart that answered.

"Yes, after church, I'm free. What for?"

He smiled. The sight alone made you melt. "Good. I'll pick you up, then. Dress practical. For now, I have some business to take care of. See you Sunday, love."

With a final, lingering look at you, he left, crossing the street and disappearing into the crowd. Leaving you, standing there, to stare after him, feeling the heat in your cheeks slowly fade, replaying the way his deliciously gruff voice called you 'love'.

When Sunday came around, you didn't know what to expect, what he had planned. Was he really taking you out? Where to? 'Dress practical', alright, so what did that mean?

Regardless, you kept on what you wore to church, it was maybe a little formal, so you changed your shoes to your most comfortable pair. Your checked yourself once again, just to be sure. As for most of your kin, there wasn't a lot of money going around, but you still liked to dress nice.

The doorbell rang, and you ran down the stairs before steadying yourself for a second, before swining open the door. It was Tommy, perfectly on time. He smiled as he saw you. His car was parked behind him.

"You ready?" he asked, before gesturing to the car. You follow him, and he opens the door for you, before sliding in himself. What a shiny black thing, you thought, as you looked at the interior. It looked well taken care of. On the backseat was a basket, the contents covered by cloth.

"Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise," Tommy mused, and started the car. Once out of the street, you reached for the cigarette case in your purse and gave him one too. He leant in so you could light his cigarette for him, and you smoke in silence. The road he took, lead you out of the city, past the industrial side of Birmingham, past the open country, following a bumpy dirt road.

Aside from some small talk, the ride was quiet, and after leaving the city, it barely took half an hour before Tommy stopped the car at the side of the road. A green landscape stretched before you. The air smelt clean, once the car engine was shut off. Some farms were visible in the distance, surrounded with yellow wheat fields swaying in the wind. You open the car door and step out, glad you wore something practical. Tommy followed you, grabbing the basked from the back seat.

"Where is this place?" you asked, as you step through the high grass next to the dirt road. There were some oak trees up ahead, and Tommy lead you there.

"It's peaceful, isn't it," he responded, "but it's no place in particular. Here, help me with the blanket."

He handed you one side of it and together, you spread it on the ground, landing softly in the grass. Nearby a bee buzzed from a dandelion to a small daisy that hides in the grass. Tommy set down the basket on the blanket and kneels down on it. You followed, kicking off your shoes to be more comfortable. 

"Are you hungry?" Reaching into the basket, he took out half a loaf of bread and a big knife to cut it with. "Or thirsty, rather?" A bottle of rosé wine followed, with two glasses.

"I didn't take you as someone fond of wine," you took the bottle from him and undid the cap. He continued unpacking the basket, some fruit followed; cherries, an apple for you each, and a few plums. 

"The exception is due to the occasion," was all he said, and took the glass you poured for him as you hold it out to him.

You smiled softly, leaning back on your hands, enjoying the sun on your face. "I didn't think you'd ask me out," you mused, without any accusation in your voice.

Tommy took off his cap, messing with his hair, before setting it aside. He takes in your content expression and tries a sip of wine. "Well, you're hard to forget."

You glanced at him, his confession was more than you'd expected in the first place. "It's lovely out here. So nice to be out of the city. I remember growing up, how all we did was travel, and we didn't deal with city folk as much as we do now."

He shifted his position to a more comfortable one, crossing his legs and leaning his elbows on his knees. "Are you alright staying in Birmingham? You stay with the Lees, right?"

You nodded. "It's all good. Just glad to be away for now. Did you prepare all of this yourself?"

He chuckled, studying you some more. "Polly helped," he admitted. He pushed the bread and cheese towards you and you helped yourself. It was good, a nice, flavourful soft goat cheese. Luxury for you. You wondered if he got it just for the occasion, to show off, or whether it was a household staple for the Shelbys. You sipped the wine to wash it down. Instead of eating, Tommy went for a cigarette. As he took it out of the case, your hand instinctively found your matchbox and before he could reach for his own, you struck a match. With the mildest surprise in his expression, he leaned in and let you light it for him.

"I hope you don't expect me to eat by myself, Tommy."

He chuckled softly, taking the cigarette between two fingers. "I'll have some in a moment, I'm just... taking in the atmosphere."

So you sat together, and you shifted too, knees brushing together, and you looked around. Nothing. For miles. Just quiet. No machinery, nothing but birds chirping and wind rustling through leaves. With a deep sigh, you slowly relaxed. Soon, both your glasses were empty, and you poured them full again. The wine was warming up, and even though it didn't help the taste, it was vaguely romantic to share a bottle with him. Did he think you'd be the type for rosé, and is that why he brought it? No use in asking, you supposed, and instead you took the knife and cut a plum in half. It was so ripe that the juice dripped down your palm. The pit came away with ease. You offered half to Tommy, before taking your first bite.

"Ah, it's so ripe," you said, "I love plums."

With another look at you, he ate his half in two bites, chewing slowly. As you finished eating, you looked around for a handkerchief to wipe your sticky fingers with, but instead, Tommy took your hand in his. 

"Here, let me," he said, and brought your fingers to his lips. Astonished, you let him suck the juices off, his mouth warm and soft, a heated blush creeping up your neck. His sky blue eyes watched your every reaction as you shifted to accomodate the distance. His free hand cupped the back of your head, and you were more than eager to taste the plum on his lips. This kiss was nothing like the caste ones you shared before; openmouthed and hungry. Only a moment of connection passed, before you were in his lap, straddling his hips. You tried to steady yourself by gripping onto his lapels, pressing your body to his. His lips were warm and firm, tasting of tangy sweet plum and cigarettes. With the way his fingers treaded into the hair at the nape of your neck, there was no breaking the kiss. He took his time exploring your mouth, your lips, his tongue dancing with yours, before his lips moved to your ear, teeth tugging at the lobe.

"I rather like plums too," he chuckled sotfly, breath tickling your ear. His hands needed their way up your sides, feeling your body in ways that heated you all over. You kissed his neck, or; the small bit of it that his collar left exposed, and pushed his head back to follow the line of the jugular. He shivered and let you push him down into the grass. 

"You're a very good kisser," you mused, between nips, making your way back up to his ear. "Would you like something sweeter?" Seperating yourself from him with another kiss to his lips, you leant back up, enjoying the sight of him underneath you. As much as you tried to ignore the way your core pressed over his bulge, or what could be a revolver in his trousers - with Tommy there was no way to really tell - leaning back to grab another plum and the knife had you grind against it deliciously. He noticed your small whimper, and propped up his knees to have you move forward again, making you laugh sweetly at his teasing.

"Be careful, I'm holding a knife." Yet you both were still laughing. The second plum was just as ripe as the first. You threw the pit away in the grass, getting a small vision of a fully grown plum tree, branches heavy with fruit, all thanks to you and Tommy's little tryst outside the city many years prior. You took the first bite, not chewing yet, instead, leaning down to feed it to him, letting him take it from between your teeth.

"It's certainly sweeter this way," Tommy said, swallowing. "But perhaps there's something I'd rather have, instead..."

As he pulled you down to him again, you gladly joined him and let him roll you over, so you were on your back in the prickly grass. The knife left discarded on the blanket; the sounds of birds, crickets and a cow mooing in the distance soon overshadowed by the wet sounds of your kisses, soft moans and sweet nothings whispered in your ear. 

When he dropped you off at your home, he let you keep the basket with some leftover bread and fruits, and he kissed you by the door, his hand pressing you into his chest in a way that had you craving more. You mulled the question over, whether to invite him in or not. After all, you two hadn't slept together out there in the fields - you were too much a romantic at heart, but now that the moment was over, you still wanted him desperately. It would be devastating if this day was over, and you'd lie in bed to regret everything you didn't get to do, feel, experience... 

"Are you free on Tuesday evening?" he asked, voice still a bit hoarse from all the kissing. The way he looked at you from under his cap could only be described as hopeful, and it made your heart surge.

"For you, I'm free any time," you said with a playful smile. "Will you take me out again?"

He gave a curt nod, glancing over you briefly. Hopefully there weren't any noticable grass stains, this was your nicest dress. "But it's a surprise, all right?"

You looped your arm around his neck and kissed him again. "I can't wait." And from the way he returned your kiss, you knew he couldn't either.

[krispycreamcake]

For whom the church bell tolls

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Fandom: Diabolik lovers

Pairings: Yuma mukami x Shu Sakamaki (Yui's here too)

Tags: angst, enemies to lovers, childhood friends, slow burn, dialogue driven, mlm, love triangle, mentions of death, child abuse, blood, blood sucking, kinda kinky if you squint, biblical themes

Content summary: A cute little chat between repressed homosexuals

Also not proof read leave me alone

It was the middle of fall, the air was crisp, the sky dull with apprehensive winter gloom, leaves just beginning to fully finish their golden transformation, the smell of rain always being there. Parks now lay barren and empty as school children finally resume their classes after summer vacation, what was once an active town filled with the shrill voice of students, now lay disturbingly quiet with the deafening sounds of adults' judgemental glances and whispers.

The mansion at this time of year was more depressing than usual, ironically it was probably the most peaceful. Almost no one was ever home, Reiji would make sure of it that none of his brothers were to miss any of their classes, especially during such a slow time in the school year. Lots of students often wouldn't show up to school at all in favour of staying warm inside their homes. This was also flu season for Ryoutei Academy due to the harsh cold mixed with the close proximity of students. All one would hear in the hallway were marching footsteps and the occasional coughing of sickened students pushing themselves for that glint of validation for exceeding their parents' expectations and bringing honour to their family name.

Shu didn't mind attending his classes at these times due to the peaceful nature of an empty school. Of course that doesn't mean he was paying any attention in class or completing assignments. It was for this very reason that him and Reiji were arguing right now.

"You worthless slob. Tsk- I don't even know why father bothers sending you to such a well renowned academy. This is the 4th time this week a teacher has pulled me aside to say that you aren't doing anything in class, and one time you even walked out during a lecture!"

Reiji said as he propped up his glasses with his middle finger, slamming shut the book he was reading for dramatic effect.

"And yet I'm still the favourite. Why don't you just shut up and stop wasting your time."

Reiji felt his chest tighten as a slur of detestable words started to fly out his mouth in such a commotion that Shu had no time to process what he was even saying. He popped in his earphones and teleported to the graveyard.

The cold winds of the night howled and whipped through his hair, blocking his eyesight as he leaned against an unmarked grave. Red, yellow and orange leaves rustled under his weight as he crushed them to bits. Pale hands gripping what was left of the leaves, the bright and lively colours contrasting the surrounding area, and more importantly, his feelings.

He leaned his head back as he turned up the volume of his iPod. His breathing slow and concentrated, almost forceful. Usually, Reiji's words never bothered him, but he had just woken up from that dream again. Flames everywhere, the smell of smoke suffocating his lungs as he stood there helpless, unable to do anything but watch.

He felt tears spring up as he scrunched his face, delicate features writhing in agony. His index finger brushed up against his cheek, feeling the tears for what they were.

"Typical... How bothersome. No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to forget. Even after hundreds of years, you still haunt me. Heh.. Was that your intention all this time? What a stalker..."

His body tensed as a wave of wind rushed past him. Face immediately turning into a scowl as the smell of decay hit him like a bus. His body rigid as he sat up.

"Show yourself."

Was all Shu said before a long pause of silence enveloped the cemetery. Before long, Shu heard a chuckle. The winds carried the sound so far away that he couldn't detect where it even came from.

'Thump'

An apple had fallen from a tree above Shu, hitting him directly on his head. He swiftly looked to the ground to observe the fruit before the same voice called out again.

"Ya know yer s'posed to look up not down right?"

Shu's head immediately spun around, eyes searching through the trees before almost immediately spotting the third nuisance of that dreaded household. Yuma Mukami. For such a hard worker, it seemed odd to see him sitting lazily on an apple tree branch, completely relaxed with such a smirk on his face.

"You did that on purpose."

Shu replied bluntly.

"Harsh winds."

Yuma retorted just as quick.

"Whatever. Just stay out of my way, you and your brothers are too much of a hassle to even have to go to school with."

Shu said as he put back in his earphones.

"Hmph, everything for you is a hassle. But what could you really expect from such a lazy asshole? I'm surprised you even made it all the way out here without falling asleep."

Yuma said, taking a bite out of the fruit.

"Heh- you're bold when you have nothing to be cocky about. Maybe you're into that sort of thing?"

Yuma raised his eyebrow at this before taking another bite, speaking with a mouthful of apple.

"What the hell are ya on about? You tryna insinuate somethin'?"

Shu smirked as he finally looked up at him.

"Well, you're here aren't you? You're a long way from home, so one can imagine the lengths you'd go just to see me."

Yuma snorted just before a piece of the apple almost got stuck in his windpipe, causing him to cough and sputter all over the place. Shu in the meantime, feeling pleased with how this interaction went, decided to step away from under the tree and take in his bewildered expression.

"Haa? Are ya right in the head or somethin'? I'd never go for such a slow guy like yourself!"

Yuma shouted from above.

Shu clicked his tongue before his face went cold suddenly.

"She's not here."

Yuma finally stopped munching on the apple before looking him directly in his eyes. Their gazes meeting in a silent battle for dominance.

"You knew?"

Now, it was Shu's turn to laugh.

"Wasn't it obvious from the start?"

Yuma flung his head back as he looked up at the leaves above him.

"I suppose."

Shu walked right up under him and put his hands into the pockets of his cardigan.

"Make no mistake, there's no way I'd let half breeds like you even think about getting your hands on my prey, let alone taking it."

Yuma didn't respond, too busy thinking about how he's going to tell his older brother that he failed his task.

"If that's all that you came here for, you can leave now."

Despite their almost friendly banter before, the air had now turned sour, the stench of pent up aggravation for one another permeating the atmosphere. They were just too different. So why was Shu disappointed?

Yuma finally jumped off from the branch he was perched up on, a heavy thud breaking the silence.

"Where is she?"

Yuma said, the apple in his hand now lay limp as he barely put in enough effort to hold it correctly, one twitch of a finger and the fruit would have fallen to the ground.

"Why would I care?"

Shu didn't even bother to turn around and face him, in turn he just stared blankly at the field of graves beyond him.

"Tch- you should."

Shu didn't miss a single beat before responding.

"I don't. I don't care whether she lives or dies, she's only prey. The only thing that's remarkable about her is the quality of her blood."

Yuma felt something rise within him, like a deep slated anger for something more than just this conversation.

"It's always you damn rich kids that never appreciate the good things in life. It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. High quality prey and you can't even be bothered to know where it is! What a bunch of stuck up assholes, all of you Sakamakis."

Yuma snapped back at him, memories of constant injustice plaguing his mind, as he remembered how awfully he was treated as a kid.

Shu didn't respond and instead just began to leave the situation.

"Hey! I'm talkin to ya! Don't you know it's rude to walk away when yer conversatin' with someone!?Stop walking goddammit!"

Yuma shouted as he ran up and harshly tugged on his shoulder, forcing Shu to stop in his tracks.

It wasn't long before Shu quickly became agitated and immediately spun around to confront Yuma. He didn't say a word, instead just looking directly at him, his eyes scanning over his attacker's build.

"What a stuck up prick. I thought I told you stop where you were goin?"

Yuma spoke up, not feeling the slightest bit intimated by his stare.

"If you really want her, then you can go look yourself. She's in the church."

And with those words, Shu immediately teleported away.

Yuma was taken aback and just stood there.

"The fuck is that guy's problem?? Why'd he just...."

Before Yuma could say anymore, he followed Shu's advice and went to visit the church.

There she stood, about to get on her knees and devote herself to the eternal divine. No regret flushing her cheeks, no panicked heartbeats or irregular breaths. Her school uniform was still untainted as she clasped her hands together, fang marks being covered by the long sheet of fabric that made her sleeve, hiding her sin and tucking it away from the watchful eye of the holy one.

How ironic, because she knew more than anyone else, nothing could ever hide from him. Especially not one of his most prized possessions being devoured by Satan's seed. Maybe it was out of respect that she covered her flaws, to not spit in the face of God and dare threaten his unwavering love and mercy by showing just how bad of a job he was doing when it came to protecting his most devout follower.

Nonetheless, there she lay, hymns chanting over and over in her mind. However, all that did was get Yuma more riled up. He stalked over to her before quietly sneaking up right behind her. He forcefully grabbed a handful of hair and yanked it back as hard as he could, watching as her eyes shot open and immediately became teary.

"Y-yuma kun! What are you doing!? Please- stop!"

Was all the poor girl could muster due to her increasing pain. Despite everything, no matter what she went through, Yui never screamed harshly or made it known that she was in obvious pain, except for the polite indications she'd often spew out. Through it all, Yui remained ever gracious and gentle, despite people belittling her for her soft nature, she knew it was the right way to be. That's just the kind of person she was.

Yuma chuckled sadistically.

"Well sow, as sexy as you looked gettin' all on yer knees like that without anyone forcin' ya too.... The only man you should ever worship....is me."

Yui blinked in shock as Yuma raised her to her feet and spun her around, hand clenching her jaw in the way that couples would often do, thumb caressing her cheek as his pointer finger pressed into her mandible, squeezing her face together.

He studied her expression, taking in the perpetual fear she wafted off onto him. His sharpened gaze dug into her skin, forcing her eyes to back away and surrender.

"What? Can't stand a little staring contest?"

Yuma probably thought he was the funniest person in the room, but the truth was, no one was laughing.

His smile dropped as he scolded her for not humoring his little jokes. The brutality never ended between vampire and prey, no matter how small or stupid the situation might be. He grabbed her by her throat, calloused hands squeezing her esophagus, bruising her newly healed skin with marks of his own, these ones not being as easy to seal up. He watched mercilessly as she clawed at him, begging him, crying for him to stop. He watched. He looked. He stared. But never, did he see the painful situation in front of him.

Yui's eyes watered as she felt her chest tighten and her body feel light. Not here... Oh god not now. She tried as hard as she could to push him away, but instead let out pathetic gurgles that made her abuser laugh at her attempts to save herself.

"W-why..? Yu.... Ma kun..."

Her face turned blue, hoping that in her last moments conscious, she could get some answers. Nothing in her life made sense, so it was only reasonable for her to continuously question the unknown. The only thing they haven't done to her by this point was cut off her tongue to physically silence her, yet, she wouldn't put it above them.

Just before her vision became completely dark, she heard Yuma mutter a curse word before letting go of her. She lay limp on the floor after her body crashed with the cold marble.

"So you came."

Yuma said, almost under his breath like if he'd been anticipating this.

"How daft are you? Did you really think I wouldn't?"

Shu said, words like daggers as he made his way over to Yuma. The pale moonlight made him seem ethereal as he flew down from the edge of the church's ledge where paintings and candles were propped up on. His being floated towards Yuma, a magnificently made glass mural of Yeshua painted behind him. His body covering the holy lord every bit of the way, yet the angels and trumpets surrounded his heavenly figure, playing a mocking melody of worship still lay visible, celebrating their saviour.

His golden locks just barely covering the deep blue intensity of his orbs, skin unmarred by the battle of time, face as delicate as the last surviving rose of winter. Cold, beautiful, on the brink of death itself. Despite his calloused expression, Yuma couldn't help but feel warm just looking at this falsely angelic creature slowly descending towards him. Eyes widened with curiousity like a child discovering something new that it still cannot yet comprehend. That feeling of the ever approaching dread of the unknown, mixed with the fascination all humans are born with.

Unknowingly, he stepped over Yui's cold unmoving body to get closer to Shu as he finally made his way down.

"Took ya long enough."

Yuma said, throat unbearably dry.

"Why were you trying to kill her?"

Silence enveloped the both.

"I wasn't-"

Shu's gaze hardened as he cut off Yuma.

"Shut up. I don't want to hear any of your lies. Stop wasting my time and tell me why."

Yuma put his hand in his pocket casually, obviously not caring about how upset Shu had gotten.

"She's not just your prey. I can do whatever the fuck I please with her."

Shu grinded his teeth but tried his best to keep his nonchalant demeanor.

"Thought ya didn't care whether she lives or dies?"

In a second, Shu's eyes immediately widened. A smile of disbelief almost gracing his face.

"So that's why...."

Yuma looked surprised and confused.

"The hell are ya talkin bout now? That's why what?"

Yuma said defensively, trying to figure out what was going on.

"Heh... Pfft... Ha.. Hah... Hahaha- HAHAHAHA"

Yuma's brows furrowed together.

"The fuck is wrong with ya!? Yer startin to creep me out!"

Shu continued to laugh, eventually holding his stomach to contain himself as Yuma looked on in horror.

"You- me- did you.....really think?"

Yuma's stomach turned at this.

"Did I think what!? Spit it out asshole! Stop bein' so cryptic."

Shu couldn't gather himself as he continued laughing, eventually tears began streaming out as he almost fell back, a hand covering half his face in an attempt to hold himself together.

"H-hey... What's with this whole act you're puttin on? It's.....Are you ok? You're...."

Yuma tried salvaging what was left of Shu's sanity but quickly proved futile.

"You- you remind me so much of... Him. It's uncanny! Everywhere I go, he's there. If I'm awake or I'm asleep, he's there. Around every corner, waiting for me, reminding me of the failure that I am! I couldn't- I couldn't even.... Save him."

Eventually the laughter stopped, and all that was left was a heartbroken man trying to stand on his own, but failing miserably as he kept stumbling back. The tears kept coming as both his hands were now desperately and frantically trying to glue back together the bits of his mind as he began to tighten his hold on himself.

Yuma stared at the mess of a man in front of him. He understood none of his ramblings but was determined to figure out what was going on.

"Who do I remind you of? Who are you talking about...?"

Shu stayed quiet for a long time before slowly looking up at him.

"It.... Doesn't matter. He's dead now. He's dead and it's my fault...."

Yuma stepped closer as he cautiously reached out his hand, eventually shaking Shu out of his trance. Just as he did, he watched in horror as the blond's eyes grew dull and dead.

"Look dude, I dunno whatever issues ya got goin' on inside yer head, but you gotta pull yourself together. We all got demons, that's no doubt. Every one of us, even sow over there. But what I'm tryna say is, ya gotta let the past be the past."

Shu looked at Yuma in disbelief. How'd he ever get to the point where he'd be comforted by a half breed?

"D'ya really think whoever it is yer sniveling about would like to see how pathetic you look right now? I'm sure he'd have wanted you to continue living life to the best of yer ability, without regrets! And don't get it wrong- I'm not tellin you this because I care about you or anythin', I enjoy the chase. Ever since I became a vampire, having to track down my prey and forcefully take it from you assholes has been a delight. It sparks somethin' in me."

Yuma paused before slapping the both sides of Shu's shoulders like if he just gave him a pep talk for an upcoming football game. His eyes sparkled and his smile widened.

"So.... Don't let me down kay? Otherwise it's no fun for me at all, so stop yer whinin'!"

Shu calmed down a bit, but the poison still lingered. He began to take deep breaths through his mouth, not having a beating heart meant that trying to calm yourself like this was futile in every way, but he decided to count his breaths. Each number, a step away from the edge.

"I can't even remember what he smells like..... So even if there was somehow a slim chance he was standing right in front me, I wouldn't know."

Shu said quietly. It seemed as if in this very rare moment, he was finally speaking the honest thoughts that came to mind, instead of just bottling it up like usual.

"Ya gotta stop thinkin' so much. The past is the past for a reason, it's not healthy to keep it draggin' behind ya every minute of yer life. You're not even human... So you'd be regrettin' this forever."

Yuma said, a pang of sympathy and understanding hitting him like a bus.

"Look... Ya think we wanted to become monsters? We had no other choice. It was an opportunity to have a restart at everything that ever went wrong.... And a lot went wrong. It's not easy for me to live while the others I cared about just dropped like flies. Course I got my brothers, and I'm thankful for that, but knowing that I'll outlive my own timeline is unthinkable.... I shouldn't even be alive right now, but I am."

Shu stayed quiet this time, mind blank as he begrudgingly listened.

"None of us had a great childhood, hell even a good one! Ya probably don't know this, and that's cause you shouldn't, so don't go blabberin yer mouth bout it! But...."

Yuma paused, apprehension thick in the air. It was almost suffocating.

"The world is a cruel place, humans are cruel. We were barely even teenagers when that guy came to us."

Shu was slightly taken aback, but refused to let it show. Still, that's how long that their precious father have been in contact with these people?

"What I'm gettin' at is, the world's unfair. But if you can bend it to your will, you can have anything nd anyone. But.... I'm not that sorta person, you are. So don't let anyone steal yer throne, or else I'll miss that look of jealousy on your face whenever I'm drinkin from yer sow over there."

Yuma chuckled at this, remembering just how fun it was to tease him. Shu on the other hand immediately became irritated once again and slapped his hands away.

"It's not jealous."

Yuma's eyes widened as he stroked his chin.

"Haa? Never would've taken ya to be the tsundere type.... Were my words so inspiring, you're finally revealing your true colours perhaps?"

Shu scoffed at this before walking towards Yui. But not before bumping his shoulder against Yuma's chest forcing him out the way.

"Oi! What was that about! Hey! I'm talkin to ya!"

Yuma said, extremely offended. Shu continued to walk over and picked up Yui's body. Her neck stained with the marks of her perpetrator. Shu scoffed once more before scanning her entire body.

"Relax I didn't kill her-"

Shu once again cut him off.

"You didn't bite her either."

Yuma casually walked towards the both of them.

"Eh? Oh, I wasn't in the mood. She was all on her knees prayin' and it gave me the heebie geebies."

Shu picked her up bridal style, the slow sounds of her breath the only noise in the entire building.

"Well I am. And she's unconscious so it's no fun. Do you finally see for yourself how much of a nuisance you Mukamis are?"

Now, it was Yuma's turn to scoff.

"You knew where she was all this time, why didn't you just take her?"

Shu walked closer to Yuma, Yui still limp in his arms. He gave a sadistic smirk.

"Because how else would you fulfill your plan?"

Yuma rolled his eyes and shouted out again.

"What the hell is with you and these coded messages!? What plan!?"

Shu dropped Yui harshly at his feet, her body rolling over to Yuma, uniform coming slightly undone as teeth marks that were previously hidden, now shone visibly on her thigh.

"Shit..."

Shu chuckled before looking directly at Yuma.

"Why'd you bite her exactly over my fang marks and not even bother to heal it properly?"

Yuma crossed his arms and pouted his lips.

"To claim dominance obviously!"

Shu stretched out his hand. Grasping a small strand of Yuma's hair, gently tugging on it until he reached the end of the strand.

"The fuck ya think yer doin' all of a sudden!?"

Shu's smile dropped as his voice rung deep within the church walls.

"You're more of a pervert than I thought. I'm just testing to see how far you'll go before I break you."

Yuma's cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he stumbled backwards.

"A-are ya out of yer mind!? The hell's gotten into ya!?"

Shu grabbed his arm, forcing him to come back right in the very spot he left.

"I'm not as slow as you think I am. Don't deny it. All this time... You just wanted to get me alone by using my own prey as bait to lure me."

Yuma's expression only got worse as he struggled to make words connect, stumbling across his pronunciations instead, stuttering with every sentence.

"I-it's not like that! Bes-sides I'm not! I- I don't! I'm not into guys!"

Shu looked at him with a toothy grin before responding.

"What a lie."

In seconds, Shu's fangs were on him. His mouth coming in contact with his throat, almost as if trying to kill him. Teeth piercing into flesh that had never felt fangs before, skin writhing underneath as cold unsavory crimson flowed out. Yuma stood there paralyzed, eyes wide as he looked up towards the ceiling. Pain overtook his senses, but was immediately replaced with something more.

"Kuh- ya don't just.... Do that to people."

Was all he could mutter out. Of course, Shu didn't care. But, he did rip out his fangs from the wounded flesh to get a better look at his expression.

"Heh... You don't need to be into guys to enjoy pleasure when it's given to you. But by the look on your face, you already know this, right?"

Yuma looked at Shu, then slowly towards Yui.

"Course I know that.... I'm not some weak minded virgin like sow. But even so...."

Yuma immediately cut himself off as he watched the blood dribble down Shu's mouth. Not just any blood, but his blood. That's when it hit him.

"I'm... Bleeding. I can smell it."

Shu walked towards him, this time he was the one stepping over Yui.

"I know you like her."

Yuma was taken aback but decided to stand his ground.

"What's it to ya if I do? It ain't none of yer damn business!"

Shu looked to the floor. Silence once again.

"You mean that, don't you?"

Yuma hesitated before following his gaze to the floor.

"Course. She's.... Different."

Shu made a 'tsk' sound before angrily approaching Yuma, this time, getting so close that Yuma needed to back away.

"H-hey don't go gettin' mad at me! Seconds ago you were just at my throat!"

Shu scoffed before raising his head up, not even bothering to meet Yuma's gaze.

"I was just curious. Don't think too much about it, because there's nothing to think about."

Yuma felt his hands go clammy at his words.

"Wh-what.."

Before he could even fully process what Shu had meant, he was gone. Yui was gone as well, to no surprise of anyone. But still...

"Geez, what a weird guy..."

Author's note: heyyyyy guys guess who's back😍 sorry I abandoned you but hopefully you'll accept this as my formal apology. I love every one of you and I wanna say thanks for sticking with me even when I'm not my best, I really do appreciate the community we've built on this platform.❤❤

[queerholmcs]

psspsppspspppspppspspsss tell us ur judgement on conclave our beloved

SEXIEST MOVIE OF 2024 FULL STOP!!!

okay but no frfrfr..... i was absolutely captived when i saw it in the cinema. like the cinematography and the visuals were absolutely delicious on all counts, with all those high-contrast shots and sparse lines vs the bustling kitchen areas and the smoke breaks etc, and the soundtrack was the most exquisitely sparse thing i've ever heard, i love her so much!!! and that's before we even get into the actual story here!!!

we've got a homily about how faith is not the opposite of doubt but of certainty! we've got introspection about the entire process of the conclave! we've got people making questionable decisions and wrestling with the ends justifying the means and we've got absolutely no-one being above acting in secret! we've got "it doesn't matter what actually happened, what matters is what people think, and there's no fixing that" my beloved! we've got discussions of the church, and of the Church! and we've got the ultimate reveal at the end, because he gets exactly what he was praying for this whole time—he gets an opportunity to wrestle with his doubt, and a pope who's going to make him wrestle with his faith. and it's so well done on all fronts. the way it all comes to a head with the explosion when he finally listens to what everyone else was saying and writes his own name? show-stopping.

(i'm a very simple man! you give me a story wrestling with faith and theology and divinity that neither shoves some brand of belief down your throat nor dismisses all belief as hogwash, and i start salivating.)

[imagines-by-cleo]

The Whisper of the Serpent

Part 3 of the Absolution series - Part 1, Part 2

John Ward x Fem!Reader

Sorry this one took so long! I've been so busy with holidays and work that I didn't have a lot of writing time, and I took my sweet time writing this one because I wasn't ready to let it go yet (if that makes any sense). I did so much research while writing this series that I almost converted; jk but it's definitely accurately sacrilegious.

Anyway, happy Easter!

CW: SMUT, hierophillia, premeture ejaculation, oral sex (m receiving), masturbation, fingering, dirty talk, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, mild degradation

"Just one more." He sweetly lies against your lips so you'll kiss him again, making you giggle as he leans in just after you pull away.

With his heart beating like a drum, practically ready to burst out from underneath his cassock, John pauses to listen for anyone that could be outside. The little chapel had once again become a sanctuary for sin, a place where he could hide his transgressions from the church and the world over and over for as long as he could get away with.

"Don't you have somewhere you need to be?" You tease as the organ begins to play.

John doesn't respond right away, he only stares at that all too innocent smile in a desperate attempt to commit it to memory. His feet seem to be stuck to the stone floor and his legs heavy as lead with the unwillingness to step away even to perfom the rituals he had sacrificed his entire life to dutifully perform.

"What's wrong?" You ask, no doubt noticing him drifing away.

"Nothing. Just..." He trails off, he wouldn't spoil this for you, not if he didn't have to "Just one more."

While he presses his lips to yours a final time he wraps his arm tightly around your waist, wishing in the most shameful recesses of his soul that he could carry you out of here and forget every holy thing that acts as a barrier between the him and you.

"John, you better go." You whisper the words that he hates to hear against his lips.

"Father." He corrects you with a gentle squeeze around your waist that makes you smile again.

Only after he silently prays for the strength to walk away can he untangle himself from you and leave the defiled little chapel. Even his prayers have now become reckless and casual, he can hardly grip the rosary or kneel at the alter anymore.

"Yes, I'm sorry. I'll repent; eventually, I promise." He mutters a butchered summary of contrition before donning his vestments and readying for the procession.

It's hard to tell if the temptations that normally plague him night and day are becoming less frequent or that they're so frequent he no longer notices or fears them. The cold righteous finality of divine judgment was now distant and far away and would be a relief compared to the silent secretive earthly judgement of his parishioners that he is now wary of. As he strides up to the altar John is uncomfortably aware of the eyes on his back, practically poking into his skin like needles. A constant anxiety that he will ignore until he simply can't.

Even standing at the podium with an unfelt homliy passing his smiling lips, he knows that he has no right to stand in that most high place. All the eyes of heaven look down and already see his sins yet there is only witness on earth to his trespasses that he is glad to not find in the pews this morning. Though he would hardly notice even if they are with his gaze fixed conspicuously on you, smiling like a schoolboy at his sweetheart when you return the glances.

Until the service is done he watches you with a passion he could hardly remember why he vowed to forsake, waiting patiently to get you alone just one more time. Though with the image in front of him, it was not difficult to find patience, he would gladly watch you smiling and laughing in small talk for hours, and for a moment he believes he will; until someone catches your arm and whisperes something to you. The warm smile he loves fades away like a whisp of smoke before his eyes and is replaced by an expression much colder.

The look in the older womans eyes is worse than his deepest anxieties could have conjured, there's no shock, no confusion, only a righteous fury spoken in whispers. John knows he should step up, that he should sheild you and take the blame on himself, he hates to find relief hiding in the most shameful parts of his soul that it's not him being confronted now. The urge to defend you fights with the instinct to hide and he stands frozen while he loses the opportunity to do either.

When you are finally left alone he sees your bottom lip quiver slightly before you dart out of the sanctuary with your face covered in your hands. Before he can follow the same older woman comes to him, silent, disgusted, she knows what he saw and he's lucky enough to only earn a simple shake of her head as she passes.

After a moment of icey silence in his mind and soul John walks out of the church as fast as his feet will take him, not caring about the attention he can attract or the pain in his leg from a childhood injury that he never remembered but cannot forget. The distance is less than a mile but it feels like a thousand as he drags his body across the sidewalk huffing and panting by the time he arrives at your door, using the last of his breath to call your name.

"Let me in, it's me." He is audibly winded while pounding on the door.

"Go away." You answer coldly on the other side, so close and yet so separate.

"I know what happened, just... just let me in so we can talk about it." He implores you, leaning against the door while he continues to softly beat his fist against the wood.

"Go away!" You repeat, now unable to hide the wavering of your voice that threatens to become a sob.

John stares at the closed door, he almost considers following your order but where would he go if not to you? You who had consumed his thoughts, his life, his very soul. Any repentance from you would be a lie.

Muffled sniffing on the other side beckons to him, and he steels himself preparing for what he needs to do. First he tries the doorknob, jiggling it slightly and finding it locked. A slightly open window catches his attention from the corner of his eye, he limps over and slowly slides it all the way up, stealthily swings his leg over; then catches his cassock on a splinter in the frame. John tumbles to the floor, cursing as he lands on his bad leg making you gasp and run over to him from where you had been sitting.

"John!" You gasp with a variety of emotions from surprise and annoyance. "You fucking idiot what are you doing?"

At first he's shocked at your words, the only unkind thing he had heard you say to him, or even heard you say at all, yet even as the curses leave your mouth you're kneeling down to check on him sighing as you discover he hasn't seriously hurt himself. Minutes later you gasp again ready to break out into what he thinks is a sob but is relived to hear is only laughter.

"I just wanted to check on you, but..." John smiles and begins to laugh along., glad to hear that you're no longer crying.

"I just can't get rid of you can I?" You giggle as he brushes the drying tears off your cheek.

"No, you certainly cannot." He replies with a smile as you nuzzle into the palm of his soft hand and he pulls you into a warm embrace.

For a moment the two of you sit in heavy silence as the weight of what had driven you from the church and John to your side lingers in the air. He almost wishes you won't tell him and that by some miracle it could all be forgotten and that nothing would change and no secrets would be revealed.

"Someone called me a whore today." Your somber confession is mumbled into his shoulder. "I don't know how anyone found out, I mean, we weren't careful but..."

Just like that, harsh reality makes itself known and there are no more lies to hide this sin behind. The eyes of more than just heaven were on the two of you, pretending that this could continue now was futile, no matter how uncomfortable the truth may be.

"I know how." John answers with a heavy heart. "I'm sorry, I should have told you. That night when I was here and we ordered pizza, the delivery driver recognized me. I'm so sorry."

Recounting the event replays it in detail in his mind, the casual greeting on the drivers face slowly melting into shocked confusion and disbelief, John raised his fingers to his lips as he handed over the money with a silent plea in his eyes. Quickly closing the door and making the decision to lie and let you believe this secret was safe for another night.

You lift your head off his shoulder and look at him, he expects anger, sorrow, anything but the understanding that floods your expression. It almost stings more to know that the both of you are so deep in lust and lies that this is no longer a transgression.

"Oh, John, I'm not sure I would have said anything either." You mournfully admit as you sit up and hug your knees to your chest.

"Are we both just selfish?" He asks with a soft defeated chuckle.

"I guess so." You reply with a weak laugh, putting your head on his shoulder again. "Can we try and be honest with each other at least?"

"Of course we can." John replies and wraps his arm around your shoulder. "No more secrets."

There's a brief pause, and a few subtle changes in your expression as he watches you go through the same dilemma he had. The urge to hide and retreat from the world that threatened to take this forbidden comfort away and the acceptance of defeat.

"She told me that if you don't go to bishop by next week then she will." You warn him, with the faintest trace of panic in your voice. "They can't prove we were together can they? I mean it's just a rumor and we didn't even do anything."

"No, they can't prove it, but if the bishop asks I can't lie about what happened either." John explains, trying to comfort you but not withhold the truth again. "It'll be alright, we knew we couldn't keep this up forever, but I'm glad we had this much time together."

You look up at him with a grief in your eyes that he regretted to ever put there, your lips linger inches away with the promise of rekindling the sin that brought you here. His heart races as you sit up straighter and put your hands together with his over his lap.

"If it's really over, I don't care what anyone thinks anymore." Your words make his heart race, he knows what you're about to propose, he knows he doesn't have the strength to resist. "They won't believe that we didn't do it anyway and since it doesn't matter anymore, I don't want to hold back now."

"You know I won't say no if you ask me that." He couldn't deny his weakness, even now the struggle inside him raged.

"John..." Your voice is lower, sweeter, the heat of your breath gently warming his lips. "Just one time?"

With the release of a long held sigh whatever was in him that begged to refuse moments ago fell silent and with a kiss he sealed his fate. His arms wrapped around your waist, slowly at first, then like they were moving on their own pulled your figure tight against his own like a spring loaded trap going off at a fraction speed. The breath left your body with a short gasp before you reached out and held him just as tight.

It was hard to tell if he was just stalling because of his lingering fears, the image of a passersby looking through the window and shouting to stop this degeneracy before it went too far lingered in his mind. The moment he felt your lips hum against his with a muffled moan, he knew he wanted no intervention, not to save his soul; not even to save yours.

"Come to my bedroom." You whisper when you pull away from him, the brazen request making him shiver though he expected it.

"Take me there." He replies without thinking, prompting you to pull him off the ground and lead him down the hall.

If you weren't taking his hand and dragging him along John is sure he wouldn't have be able to move, his legs feel heavy, his head is spinning and he isn't quite sure where he's putting his feet. Before he knows it he's falling on the plush comforter atop your bed and pushing stuffed animals on the floor.

He can hear his heart beating through his entire body, this room that he had been in before was turning like it was trying to throw him out, he fought the sense that he shouldn't be here like he hadn't battled it a thousand times before.

"John?" You call out to him with sweet concern on your face as you no doubt noticed his distress. "Are you okay?"

"Yes." He answered, perhaps too quickly, only to take notice of the feel of your body against his that anchored him in his tempest of emotions. "I am now."

"You know, I thought about having you here like this so many times..." John listened to you whisper almost exactly like you had in his dreams. "I'm not so sure it's real this time."

The implications behind your words, the reminder of how much you had been thinking of him instantly flooded his body with warmth and a need to prove himself, to live up to those fantasies. Just hearing one dirty little thought that ran through your mind was enough to make him hard, to be reminded he was the star of these thoughts nearly made him cum in his pants.

"I'm here, I'm real." He assured you, his voice low and soft as he pulled you down for a heated kiss.

"You feel like a dream." You whisper against his mouth, your hands running down his chest, thumb running over the buttons of his shirt.

"You feel like..." John can't even think of the words, or control his body, his hips twitching and jerking up against yours. "Heaven..."

When you climb up to straddle him his knees are shaking, his whole body aches with the need to touch you, to pull you impossibly closer. His awkward hands fumble with your clothes, trying to remove them but only tugging and pulling blindly. His pants are becoming so tight that he's afraid he'll burst right out of them, every touch and warm breath on his skin makes his cock throb under the stressed fabric more than ever.

"I just can't wait anymore." You tug on his belt and he lets out a moan he just can't hold back, whispering words that drive him insane. "You make me so wet just thinking about it..."

The feeling of your feather light touch so close yet so far is simply too much for him to bear, his hips jerk upaward and they just don't stop. A warmth passes over his body then sticks and spreads though the fabric of his pants followed by a blood freezing chill when he realizes what happened.

"Oh... God! I'm sorry I- I didn't mean to..." He tries to explain while his body is still buzzing and the dark patch on his pants is growing. "I didn't think it... I'm so sorry."

His cheeks are hot and he's trembling in fear of your judgement, the shame and disappointment in himself make it hard for him to meet your gaze until you cup his cheek gently and turn him to face you.

"Hey, it's alright. it happens." You assure him between soft kisses along his face and jaw. "It's okay, really."

"I- It is?" He stammers in disbelief, putting his trembling hands on your waist.

"Of course it is." You repeat the kisses getting gradually more heated as they make a path down his neck. "You know, I think it's kind of hot..."

"You do?" He asks surprised though he really shouldn't be, he let out a sigh of relief remembering how much you constantly want him. "Could you... tell me why?"

He feels your lips curve into a smile against his neck, right above his collar and your warm breath as you whisper. "Well... I like seeing you all flustered, you get so worked up. I know it's bad, but I like knowing I do that to you."

John lets out a low groan, his body responding to your touch like he hadn't just cum in his pants. He pulls his stiff white collar off and hears your soft gasp as you watch him do it, then he slides his hand up the back of your neck and tangles his fingers in your hair as he pulls you back down to latch your mouth to his skin again.

With the first button on his shirt you struggle but the second and third come undone easier, soon your thumb is making quick work of undressing him and your mouth follows the path of newly unveiled flesh. Lips meeting his chest and abdomen like the dawn touches the sky, so natural and confident, subtle at first and then overwhelming.

Eventually you reach his half undone belt, and your mouth lingers over the damp spot on his pants. You look up at him before smiling and running your tongue through the middle of the stain, warming the cooling fluid against his skin and making his cock come to life again.

He feels ashamed again with you so being intimate with his mistake. "You don't have to..."

"I'm just helping you clean up." You reply in that sweet tone that he can never tell if it's genuine or an act. "Just relax, I got you."

He does exactly as you say, though with great reluctance, leaning back a little to ease himself but still keep his eye on you. When you open his belt and slowly pull the zipper on his pants down John is nervous, somehow feeling like this is the very first time you had seen him. He grips the sheets to keep his hands from shaking as you pull his messy and half soft cock out and gently stroke it before touching the dripping tip to your lips.

He notices a brief hesitation when it touches your tongue, not disgust, but he can imagine the taste isn't quite what you expected. The surprise doesn't stop you, and you lick up the length of his cock again and again, feeling it get harder each time. Soon the whole tip is past your sweet lips and then another inch and another.

Now John's thankful for his earlier mishap, if he hadn't cum all over himself before then he certainly would have the moment he felt the slightest touch of your lips, and he wouldn't get to feel the inside of your mouth like never before. He pets your hair and cradles the back of your head tenderly, like he's holding some holy relic.

"You're amazing." He breathes out praises that make your lips squeeze him tighter as you fight a smile. "I mean it, truly, truly, amazing..."

It continues like that for a while, slow steady heaven. John can hardly hear the subtle wet sounds of you touching yourself over his own panting or of your mouth on him, he had hardly notices your hand had left his thigh and drifted under your skirt until you moan around his cock.

"Are you..? Fuck, I can hear how wet you are." He comments, making you hum in agreement and move a little faster.

The rhythm with which you move your head and your hands makes him feel so connected to you, the almost perfect balance where you take your pleasure at the same time; yet not balanced enough as you move faster. The more you moan and take him deeper, the faster your short hot breaths get against his skin, all of it just makes him want to pull you up and slap your hand away so he can touch you.

With a gentle tug on your hair and then a second firmer tug to get your attention and make you open your mouth you pause and release him, wiping your lips as you lift your head.

"What is it? Was it my teeth?" You ask him with wide eyes as you wipe the corners of your mouth.

"No no no, you're perfect- I mean, I..." John can hardly find the words as he pulls you up, his hands want to speak for him so badly. "This, I need to touch you..."

His fingers find the dripping heat between your thighs and slide across your soaked slit, making your knees shake and your hands dig into his shoulders as you stuggle to stay seated in his lap.

The sweat glistening on both your faces makes your foreheads stick as you press them together, warm breath mingling as your lips linger a hairs breadth apart. He tastes every uncontrolled sigh that blends into a moan as he slips one then two fingers inside of you, prompting you to whisper in his ear soflty like you still had to tempt him.

"Your fingers are so big." You tell him with a satisfied grin.

"Tell me how big." He croons in your ear and feels you clench a little tighter.

"They're so much bigger than mine, they fill me up so good..." John smiles at the picture your soft panting paints in his head once again.

Sweet wetness drips down his fingers to his wrist pulling them out quickly only to taste them like an addict before instanly replacing them again. You watch him, groaning like he does as if you could taste what he could, you touch your own wet fingers to his lips and he gladly cleans them off with his tongue.

The swirl of tongues and fingers and wet bodies is so degenerate in his mind and yet his flesh does these depraved acts so naturally, so quickly without even thinking of anything but the next sensation he needs to chase, the next secret place he needs to explore or line he must cross.

"I need you, I need you so bad..." You whisper in a gentle wavering tone, that makes him recognize the shame that fills him is also in you.

There's a hint of trepidation in your eyes as he looks down at you, not for what you're going to do but for a desperation that may not be fulfilled if he walks away. It was a lie when you said you didn't care what anyone thought. The need eating away at your soul and wearing down your conscience made it impossible to pass the opportunity to take him while you had him.

"Tell me one more time." He whispers as he turns to gently lay you down, so eager to give you what you want his hands fumble pulling off your remaining clothes.

"I need you, John." You answer with a heated kiss and help him kick off his pants.

Your legs tangle and your bare bodies become dangerously close as he struggles to position himself in just the right way, guided by your legs wrapping gently around his waist.

"Have you ever..?" You ask him with a minor hesitation blended in desperation, no doubt from the sense of duty to reflect on this grave trespass before it's committed.

"No... Have you?" John has the urge to lie and to maybe appear more masculine but your eyes compel him to answer honestly, then he only asks out of strange habit; your answer would make no difference.

"Never." You tell him with a hint of a smile and a ghost of a laugh that he mimics.

The two of you let out a sigh of relief together, glad to share this first, to give one completely to the other. John touches his forehead to yours and you take his hand and squeeze it firmly in your own, the act seeming to anchor your souls together like a gentle unspoken vow.

A chill runs through his body as he realizes how close he is to crossing that final line, his cock brushes against your warm wet heat, the very point of no return itself. How could he even think of turning away now? How could this be a test when the only answer is yes?

The sweetest sound leaves your lips when he pushes in, low and drawn out, like a fallen angel singing, in sync with the movement of his hips that slowly brings him completely inside of you. So warm, to tight, so unlike anything he had ever felt and yet his body moves, gripping, rocking, slow at first then gaining momentum, like it had always known how.

"It doesn't hurt?" John asks softly, unsure if he could stop himself if the answer was yes.

"No, no, I just feel... full..." Your answer makes his eyes roll back, what he wouldn't give to hear you say that over and over.

John exected something in him to snap, for his chastity to break like a woman's only in his soul, but nothing is broken. In fact anything that was broken in him felt whole.

Any small action from you causes a reaction in his body, likewise your responses to his lightest touches resonate so deeply as if they were his very own. John understood so profoundly now why this act is called becoming one flesh, why it was not good for man to be alone, everything, all of it made so much sense. Nothing this sacred, this designed could ever be a sin, not this, the very first mission of creation.

"Ugnh... John... I'm gonna..." You whimper as you hide your face in his shoulder, letting him feel your warning on his skin.

"I know, I know." He replies in heated kisses behind your ear.

Of course he knew, he knew your body so well, from constantly mapping it in his waking dreams to reliving those stolen moments together every time he was alone. All those telling signs your body, the tensing the twitching, he had known so intimately and now knows from the inside.

"It feels so different... I can't..." You gasp, chest heaving, hands grasping.

"It's okay, I'm here, just let it happen." He coos gently through his own heavy breaths as he shepards you though this.

Every faint signal has become a thousand times more intense, your fingers dig into his skin and your teeth sink into his shoulder, even the pain of these things fade into the glory of sharing your glorious rapture. With the way youre practically squeezing his very soul out he has to fight with strength he never knew he had just to not lose himself a second time.

"Ungh- John! John!" You call for him as the sensation overwhelms you.

"Yes! Oh, that's it, you feel so good." He hardly recognizes his voice as he answers softly coaxing you down from your peak as his hips roll in slower fluid motions.

The warmth, the wetness, the tightness, the hundreds of little feelings you gave him constantly, every one of them mounted into the most spectacular peak. The tight grip you have on him loosens slowly as your moans become continuously softer and lower.

He props himself up just to get a better look at you, at how your hair stuck to your sweaty skin and your eyes squeezed shut then opened with a glazed expression of divine bliss. Your body glistening in the low light and soft curves molding around his body, legs spread open so wide and givinf him the perfect view of his cock disappearing inside you.

"God, you're amazing." He swears, though you hardly seem to hear him.

"John?" You moan softly and look up at him with the sweetness he can't help falling in love with over and over.

"What is it?" He asks with a hint of concern, slowing down. "Is it too much?"

"Yeah, but... I want more..." You whisper breathlessly, your grip tightens again.

John can hardly believe what he's hearing, his whole body aches with the need to drive into you again, harder this time, and harder and harder until you're satisfied. His heart pounds as he firmly grasps your hips, pulling out momentarily only to flip you over.

Your whine for him nearly breaks his heart, loathe to be empty even for a second as he turns you around. Thankfully soon to follow is a deep groan of gratification as he pushes in from behind, filling you up from a new angle that makes you twist your fists into the sheets.

"I'll give it to you, I'll give you everything." He vows as he sucks in a deep breath and leans over your back until the damp skin of his chest is sticking to it.

He watches with a grin as you claw at the covers and thrash about like a woman possessed, languishing in pride at the way he, and only he, could make you act with just the slightest change of position.

"You know, I could never tell, if I corrupted you... ugh... or if you you we're always like this..." He begins to think aloud, the only sign that you notice him is the slopping wet sounds in the room getting more pronounced.

"John! Oh, fuck... John..." You pant as he begins to move, every word you try to reply with getting swallowed up my a moan.

"You were always like this, weren't you?" He breaths the accusation into your ear as he thrusts faster and faster. "I didn't have to do anything, you just thought about this all the time didn't you?"

"Yes! God, yes!" Your admission is muffled into the sheets as you bury your red face in shame and overwhelming pleasure. "I want it so bad!"

"You know just what you do to me, oh you're such a wicked, wicked girl." He purrs in a voice that hardly seems like his own. "You're sending me straight to hell and I love you for it."

Your eyes widen for an instant at that single phrase, your self control coming back for a moment even though John can feel the pleasure taking over your body again. You push up onto your elbows, reaching around your back to guide his head closer so your lips can touch his ear.

"I love you." You whisper low and honest, so unlike the heated filth he had said to you.

Before he can even decide to let go, John is sent helplessly tumbling over the edge, his orgasm takes him so suddenly that he barely has time to warn you.

"I can't... I can't hold on much longer..." He groans into your shoulder before sinking his teeth into your skin in the habit of muffling his moans.

"Do it, fill me up, John." As soon as you give the command he follows it.

He can feel every hot spurt of cum releasing deep inside you, hot, hard, fast, and how every thrust drove it deeper and deeper. Your core squeezing around him in quick tight pulses that made his eyes roll back into his head and low bass toned noises leave his mouth that he never kmew he could make.

A surge of adrenaline ran through him, something like panic mixed with every other emotion overwhelms his senses and he clings to you like a lifeline until it washes over him. Cumming inside you is so different, even after he's spent his hips are still moving on there mission and you're still moaning and taking it, he doesn't know when he'll stop, if ever. His lips keep mouthing your name like a prayer as he holds you tighter and tighter, unable to worry about squeezing you too hard.

The tension finally snaps and he collapses over you, his weight forcing a small groan of protest out of you until he rolls off onto his side, slipping out of you as he falls onto the bed. He can't make sense of where he is. God help him, he doesn't want to. He is lost, so blissfully lost and his only anchor is found when he reaches out to pull your body closer to his.

Instinctively your lips find his again in the haze, the taste and the smell and the feel of you wash over him like waves on the shore. He moves to kiss over the wounds his teeth had left on your skin and brush over the bruises while you whisper words of devotion too slurred to make sense of but too deeply felt not to immediately understand until you both fall apart in exhaustion, just waiting for the clarity to return.

As he laid in the great stillness he finally feels like something in him had changed, while it was a much different action that he had no experience with John couldn't help but think this is what it felt like to kill a man. Maybe he had killed the man he had once been.

He turns his head to the side meeting your gaze as you watched him, and he smiled at the unwavering focus fixed on him.

"What?" He asked with a soft nervous chuckle.

"Nothing." You reply, returning the smile. "Just wondering what you're thinking about."

He laughs a little louder, knowing there would be no way to explain this derailed train of thought; but there was no need. Every thought and feeling was connected to you now, nothing was separate anymore, nothing was alone.

He answers truthfully. "I was just thinking of how I never want to leave."

[weirdsociology]

it's very funny watching the process church of final judgement get accused of satanic panic-type crimes in a true crime documentary

with a kitten from best friends animal sanctuary on my lap

like ah yes the creepy cult who.... *checks notes* raised the cat who is now headbutting me in the face for kisses?

[underrated-classical-ship]

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞 ⯎ 𝐓𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐳

(Where it all began...)

May 1840. Where it all began. The famous "Devil's Violinist" Niccolò Paganini refused his last rites. He was sent to a parish priest by the Bishop of Nice. He refused. Thought it was "Premature, nonsense." The priest could not do anything. His health was in a terrible state, and he probably would die soon. However, Paganini himself did not believe he would die, and refused the last rites. And then died. On May 27, afternoon, he tried to lift his head to look up, eyes turned towards the door, and died. However, the Church refused to give him a proper burial due to several reasons, and the body did not rest until 1896.

However⎼⎼despite having the body rested, something else was still there. Anger, loneliness, unsatisfied at this world, at what people say. Just because of some rumors, and his body moved from one place to another, like a homeless man! It was frustrating, infuriating, and unacceptable for him!! And things only went downhill.

In the afterlife, there would be a trial-like process for the soul to get cleansed, and eventually, pass on, maybe go to a different place, or different body, live a different life. But due to Paganini's unresolved issues, heavy emotions and just the fact he refused his last rites, they had an issue with "passing on". So guess what? The system decided to just keep him here, let him stay in stasis, forever. Maybe then one day he'd give up on being unsatisfied, and he could become a new person.

But then the system glitched. Soul routing error, something unknown to the dead and living. And...without warning, he just got accepted to be reborn . No one questioned if Paganini actually wanted to be there. If he still wants a second chance. Because if someone suffers too much, eventually they would just give up. But instead, someone came into the world. A rebel. Not feeling "good". Not feeling "correct". Not feeling "alive". He did not remember but he did at the same time.

July, 1886.

Franz Liszt layed on his bed. Silence, maybe peaceful. Finally, all of it would be over. He expected it. Maybe this was the punishment for his sins in his earlier life. Maybe it was finally time for his judgement, and finally time to retreat. Maybe finally time to sleep, instead of staring at the ceiling for hours and feeling Death, counting the days before he would die. Each night, Liszt expected one night less until his eventual, century long sleep.

July 31th. During the performance of Tristan and Isolde, Liszt had to be taken from the auditorium. Pneumonia had set in, and died.

However again⎼⎼despite everything going smoothly without any issue, something still went wrong. People say that "Eyes are the window to someone's soul", but I think that music also plays a big role. Music makes people feel things, despite not even knowing each other. Talk about it with strangers, and soon you might be talking with friends. In this case, though, it was something else. You see, Liszt has written a lot of music in his lifetime, including Grandes Études de Paganini. A study of music, a lesson of art. Just sex simple Études, turned into the reason Elias exists.

Both do not know about each other. Both are talented. Both also have their own issues.

They both entered the same Conservatory, in the same year. Had the same expectations. Were different but also the same. Both were...also very different from who they used to be.

Liszt was charismatic and flamboyant, a true showman.

Elias had minor anxiety issues and cries at 3am because of impossible Liszt pieces.

Paganini was also quite the show off.

Matteo was some guy who was angry at life.

None of this would turn out well. But we are sure, too sure, that besides the drama, there will be at least one single wholesome moment. If possible.

[namira]

I really do feel insane whenever I think about how the Best Friends Animal Society started as the Process Church of the Final Judgement, a group that splintered off the Church of Scientology. Like it really does feel like some fringe social media conspiracy theory but it's true.

[welcome-to-fernweh]

Siblings of Life and Death Preview/WIP

Goddess of Life Preview/WIP

One characteristic I want to do is the Life Goddess to be a bit of an asshole and the Death God to be more practical/understanding. Don't get me wrong, neither of them are good nor bad, but I want Life to be like how life is around us: Beautiful and abundant, but uncaring to those who fail to survive and thrive. The phrases, "Survival of the fittest" and "Mother Nature is a cruel mistress" would definitely describe Her, as well as this badass quote that described the honey badger's attitude, "There is no church in the wild and Hell is not a consequence."

She wants Her domain to continue forever, so if one part of it fails (ex: niche species goes extinct), she will make something to replace it (ex: new species arises to fill that open niche). She balances plants and animals alike so they live in harmony, but absolutely despises outside influence towards them not from Her, which is why She doesn't like hetrans and their agricultural ways. Yes, She can be reasoned and convinced to help you and your people, but you have to make sure it doesn't negatively affect Her domain.

God of Death Preview/WIP

Now, with Death, I want Him to be based on comfort and sympathy for the lives that once have lived, yet judicious and uncaring to those who have squandered their lives. Yes, his domain is all about judging the dead, torturing those who have done wicked acts, but also reward those who have done good. Unlike His Sister, the Goddess of Life, who hates hetrans, Death loves them and wants them to be the best they can be. So, what is it He judges people on? Well, it's complicated yet simple; It's along the lines of who they were, how they lived, and what they did in their community (any group of people they felt to belong in). His "guidelines" of judgment are more of that, just guidelines, which a lot of His underling Judges (lesser Judges of Hell) are not happy with. The Death God just wants people to be kind when they can, live the life they want to live, and be a part of their environment.

I really want Him to be like Death the Wolf from Puss in Boots, the greatest supporter of life by hating and targeting those that squander it XD

Technically He is the, like, "Grand Judge of Spirits" or something because His main job is to pass the final judgement of spirits and send them on their way to be reincarnated, which He does so by slapping certain "stamps" on them, make them lose their memories, and send them down this underworld river like one of those luggage transporter things at airports. I want Him to be a Silly Guy that likes to tell jokes and says things like "Welcome back!" when a favorite spirit of His comes back, and yet He revels in the horrific torture that wicked spirits go through and laughs at them. The Life Goddess does not share His sense of humor even though She doesn't like people overall. Torture just doesn't tickle Her Funny Bone.

I also really really really want to make a Judgement Boy (Gregory Horror Show) reference somewhere in His domain because I really think He'd like that silly, judgmental lawyer dude.

He will tell a joke when a meeting is going on and a bunch of the other Judges would just groan or keep a straight face. When you live for as long as He has, you'll try to make the horrible working life something to be entertaining even if you force it. Hell in this world is very dark and gloomy, so the Death God tries to "liven" it up a bit with comedy, little joke parties, and enjoying little out-of-the-ordinary things that may come into His domain. Like, technically He doesn't like the living to enter Hell (mostly because you have to go through a special process that does not involve dying to do so because literally nothing alive can actually get there), but would like to ask questions and is generally curious as to why the individual wanted to get here so badly. The "sin" isn't from entering Hell while being alive, but as to why you did it. Your memory of the underworld would be erased, but whatever you came down there for, if it was with good reason, would stay, but that "memory loss" thing is someone else's job, not His.

Also, yeah, Hell in this world is heavily based on the Chinese one, so the "desk job" would be the obvious similarity.

[eldritchgray]

Okay, about Midnight Mass and why I love it so much.

This show is such a beautifully done piece of media, and Idk if I'm fully equipped to express just how impactful it is for me, but I wanna give it an effort. Specifically about the ending, because the ending is my favorite part.

Warning: This got long (also spoilers)

The beginning of the final episode is chaotic. It shows the worst aspects of religion, blind faith, and the church. The blatant hypocrisy of those who see themselves as righteous. The dangers of cherry-picking isolated pieces of scripture to justify every action, even the ones that cause others harm. Especially the ones that cause others harm. It's full of violence, gore, and fear.

The protagonists are the people who have been ostracized by the church for one reason or another. The gay woman, the Muslim man, the adulteress. They're the ones who saw how fucked up the actions of their church were first. They're the ones who realize the goal is to spread vampirism (it's never actually called that in the show, but that's what it is) from their isolated island community to the mainland, and they're the ones who choose to stay and stop this instead of fleeing to safety.

All three of them die in the process. But they win. They win against the rest of the town that was against them.

On the other side, is the culmination of every Christian self-righteous, judgemental asshole. She's the one who has justified every terrible decision with scripture. She's the one who looks down on everyone else in the whole goddamn town. I know several people like her from the church I used to attend.

In one scene she reprimands a man for saving someone who had never set foot in church, and says there's no room in the rec center (one of the two buildings left standing at this point) for him. The man who saved him says, "But I saved him. He was always nice to me." She doesn't care. In here eyes, since he'd never gone to mass, he wasn't redeemable.

It's around this time we see the people starting to realize just how horrible all this is. How terrible their actions have been. That they never should have started down this path, but they have and now they have to recon with the aftermath.

When the main three burn down the last two remaining buildings, the town's reaction compared to the self-righteous woman's is very telling. They remain calmly resigned, while she panics. They've already come to terms with the horror of their actions and their upcoming fate, and she is still firmly clinging to the belief that this was all God's will.

We get to see everyone in their final moments, and specifically we get to hear the inner thoughts the woman the town condemned as promiscuous. The whole monologue is beautifully written and acted, but it's this one line that really gets to me,

"There is no time. There is no death. Life is a dream. It's a wish. Made again and again and again and again and again and again and on into eternity. And I am all of it. I am everything. I am all. I am that I am."

When I tell you this made me sob it is not an exaggeration.

Everyone in the town spends their final moments coming together and singing or praying facing the sunrise. Everyone except the self-righteous woman. She spends her final moments scrambling for survival. The one person who could never come to terms with the fact that she was in the wrong.

The final episode begins with chaos, but it ends with an almost haunting quiet, as everyone looks into the sunrise.

This show does such a good job of criticizing the hypocrisy in the church and in having blind faith. It shows that going to church every week does not make you a good person. But it balances this with showing that having faith and having religion can bring people peace and joy, and that is beautiful and lovely. With showing that not going to church does not make you a bad person. In the end, we are all just people.

[radrayven11]

Good dive into the cult The Process Church of The Final Judgement. My interest piqued from their use of the name Jehovah.

[jc-lambert]

Final Judgement

As children of the Church of the Final Judgement, the Process Church [Generation X] we will not cease or desist in our praising of Jesus or hailing of Satan: it is advised we all zombify ourselves when dealing with insurance agencies as well as the Greek Orthodox, Coptic & Catholic Churches.

All the drugs injected into a human heart to prep for transplant surgery will keep us alive and young for decades after natural death.

We as Camp Gaea have taken Corporate Command of the names, business and identity of Nurse, Dr. Patricia Trujillo aka Gloria Jean Zellner. This means we can and may purchase such fluids from South America and have them infused in bottles of Laudanum for mix with Paliperidone.

If a living person drinks those bottles usually injected directly into the heart of a dying person: they can survive old age beyond the year of 150.

As children of The Malseraph Timakel and the Cult of Final Process....

We should probably stop drinking coffee and bogarting the legal assists of Narcotics Anonymous who are being killed in a liability lawsuit, even in Kansas where we have dark matter bombs and personal nuclear arms. The first time I was legally dead in Chicago, dark matter was flying all over the city.

As a cult affiliated with Narcotics Anonymous a liability organization with roots out of Van Nuys California we can be killed by insurance agencies. Van Nuys has been depopulated and most citizens and denizens are dead. Most cities and states who've credited Van Nuys have grown abandoned due to the Policing Activities and anti terrorism programs. We remain at war with the City of New Orleans and the Imperialist Dictatorship of my first wife Diane Lucifer-Lambert who has refused Zombification Rites.

I need a divorce.

From her as well as Squa.

L'Amber T. aka Amber Nichole Terp with the marital aliases or Lambert and Roth. I understand she is in prison for double homicide and being charged as a sexual offender for masturbation in the privacy of her cell.

I still prefer to stay single...

I do.

I was told that as a Semite marriage to humans doesn't count and is not lawfully or religiously binding: even and especially if married in a courthouse, commune, and without the presence of a minister.

[agapewizard]

➝ Tools of Precision Thinking — Trivium Method; True Learning. 🔑

The Trivium Method is the 3-Fold Path of Truth-Discovery. It is how consciousness processes and creates Reality. The word trivium comes from Latin and means "the three paths" or "the place where three roads meet."

Too many people are ensconced in the belief that no truth can be known, that everything is subjective opinion. Nonsense. Truth is objective, and it can be discovered and known by anyone with the desire for it. It will not be given to the masses in any exoteric way (like religion and other dogmatic belief systems), it must be desired and discovered for yourself. The Trivium Method is a tool than can help you in that process, but in order to use it properly and successfully you have to let go of your belief systems. Truth isn't about what you believe, it's about Knowledge. If you know the truth then belief isn't necessary.

"The Trivium is presented to, in the grammar stage, methodically gather raw, factual data into a coherent body of knowledge. Then, in the dialectic or logic stage, to gain understanding of that body by systematically eliminating all found contradictions within it. And, finally, in the rhetoric stage, to wisely express and utilize that valid knowledge and understanding in the real world." – Tragedy & Hope Media

➝ Knowledge / Grammar / Input Stage

Gathering all of your raw data/information from an eclectic variety of sources without pre-judging it, without letting any current belief systems edit and criticize it; taking it in objectively. This step answers the "who, what, where, and when."

➝ Understanding / Logic / Processing Stage

Processing and analyzing the information without bias, filtering out any and all logical fallacies and inconsistencies; weeding out the dross, and coming to an understanding of that information as it is; aligning your perceptions with the truth that you've discovered. This step answers the "why."

➝ Wisdom / Rhetoric / Output Stage

After you've gathered your information, processed it and understood it, you must begin speaking it to others as well as helping them go through the same process. True Wisdom isn't just Knowledge, it's Knowledge put into Right Action in the world. This is the "how," the methodology of action.

The information we take in (or don't take in) and understand (or don't understand) is then output through our behavior, and through that behavior and knowledge (or lack of) we manifest our reality. It's a co-creative process. Right now, due to our immense ignorance of Truth and our aggregate immoral behavior as a result of that ignorance, we are creating a reality of suffering and slavery. We need to change that dynamic. Knowledge is required, but then Action is required. Nothing changes magically.

Change in the world MUST begin within. We have to do deep introspection (shadow work), admit our wrongs, start taking in the necessary knowledge, align our Thoughts, Emotions and Actions so there are no contradictions between them, and live our lives in harmony with Natural Law. There's no doctrine to follow, no dogma to subscribe to, nothing you need to believe in (besides yourself), no church or lodge you need to join. It's quite the opposite. It's the abandonment of belief systems and the discovery of Knowledge of the Self and the Universe.

When you've mastered the Trivium and fully understand these common fallacies not only will you have the tools to discover the truth, no one will ever be able to manipulate you. That's why this methodology is no longer taught in any "educational" institute or university. They want us thinking everything is subjective and relative and based on feelings, not logic and reason.

"No human being who is in their center can be hypnotized. No human being... who is being guided, who is close to their intuition, who has a sharp, critical apparatus, who has a sharp sense of judgement – can ever be manipulated; not for any permanent or lasting length of time. They can be diluted temporarily... but it's like a muscle you have to keep on working on; a muscle you have to keep on sharpening." – Michael Tsarion, Architects Of Control (documentary)

Do the Unthinkable – Think!

3 Precision Tools to Perfect Thinking (Trivium)

The Trivium is a process of systematic critical thinking utilized in freeing (liberating) oneself to analyze reality properly from the input of the Five Senses.

The 3 tools are: Grammar, Logic and Rhetoric, functioning in that specific and requisite order:

➝ Grammar: Knowledge – Who, What, Where & When; the building blocks to discerning facts of reality

➝ Logic / Reasoning: Understanding – Why; establishing valid relationships between facts; work of logic is proof

➝ Rhetoric: Wisdom – the application of Knowledge & Understanding; provides the How of a subject

➝ Grammar (the who, what, where, when) is not only the mechanics of language, which is essential, but it is also the use of the language to define information and factual knowledge of objects we encounter in reality.

Existents (external or internal)

Grammar is the "art" of inventing and combining symbols. General grammar is the medium used for communication, like phonetics for combining sounds, spelling for combining letters, and grammar for combining words. Establishing norms ensures a correct form of communication for all to understand, such as the definition of words for everyone to agree upon its meaning. Something is perceived (in objective reality or subjective imagination), and it is given a "name" through a word symbol to communicate about it.

Logic (the why) is the mechanics of processing the data gained through grammatical assessment of reality, removing contradictions through identification of false arguments and analysis of conflicting data, thereby gaining an understanding of the factual knowledge of reality.

Interconnection between existents

Logic is the "art" of thinking. Various things perceived are corresponded and correlated, linked and connected to combine into larger order concepts or constructs upon which to understand existence. Logic assists in directing actions through non-contradictory identification. Thinking is correct by being in equilibrium with reality in order to arrive at various truths. Logic is used to learn and know more about those things first perceived with grammar. To get to the deeper substance of what it means; to validate and verify the definition and identity. Logic includes the law of non-contradiction and law of identity.

Rhetoric (the how) is the use of language to express the knowledge and understanding of reality, to transmit intelligence, to persuade people to a particular perspective.

Communication about existents

Rhetoric is the "art" of communication. The last part of the Trivium uses both former aspects to communicate about those things previously perceived. Logic is the "art of arts", but rhetoric is the "master art" that culminates in the ability to effectively communicate with grammar and logic. Rhetoric has a negative meaning as well, where it can mean manipulation and deception to simply "win" an argument through sophistry or other cunning linguistic arts so as to convince someone of something without much regard for the truth of the matter. This master art can be used for good or ill will.

In simple terms we can think of this as Input => Processing => Output

“What’s more, what happens if we do not have a firewall, virus-scan, and spam-filter running at all times? We lose our choice, as it is in these 3 steps wherein we evaluate and assert our decisions. It is in the turning off of our awareness- through the false creation or attribution of trust- whereby we become controlled” – Trivium Study Guide

We input knowledge (grammar) and process it, analyze it, filter it for contradictions (logic) to gain more understanding, then this gives us the wisdom of how to act so that we can wisely output into the world (rhetoric). Three paths feedback within ourselves and with others. The product of proper thinking is the objective truth, that any can verify with their own thinking.

The three Trivium components are the first of the 7 Liberal Arts and Sciences, with the latter 4 referred to as the Quadrivium: Arithmetic (numbers), Geometry (numbers in space), Music (numbers in time/motion), Astronomy (numbers in space and time). There are more arts and sciences to learn about, but these are the four classical components of the 7 Liberal Arts.

We all feedback into the common external objective reality (existence), while individually processing what we input through our senses in our own internal subjective reality (consciousness). This is how we co-create the human world that exists as a result of our actions.

Thinking is important, it's involved in reading, writing, speaking and listening. The quality of what we read in, will affect what we think about, and possibly what we output in writing or speech. Garbage in, garbage out, as they say. The quality of the information we take in (metaphysics), and the quality of our thinking (epistemology), will guide us in the moral quality of higher, truer, realer life (ethics) we can create.

By learning about the Trivium Methodology, we learn how to think, not what to think. Standards of proper definition of terms to establish a common ground of knowledge can then be followed by critical thinking skills to correct errors in thinking, like fallacies and biases. This can be applied in any endeavor to learn or communicate. Communication gets us to the common ground of understanding something. We "come to terms" by defining the words/terms we use in order to understand each other better.

We can better understand problems or opportunities by critically defining them, and then work to creatively envision a solution or exploit. Rather than automatically accept or reject ideas based on prejudices or preconceptions, we analyze them first to determine their validity.

The Trivium Method represents the natural order of effective thinking. It's how our psychological lives work. This is a basic functionality of higher order consciousness that human animals possess. The degree of functionality in this Trivium Method of thinking and processing reality can be developed further. We walk these three paths in consciousness in order to live. Understanding how we function -- and further developing our capacities of consciousness -- will benefit us not only individually, but collectively as well. With the Trivium Method we can understand more about the "arts" of mind and language.

Anti-intellectualism is on the rise, where being banal and superficial allows one to meld homogeneously with the crowds. There is a definite, intentional dumbing down through schooling and media, where the fundamental tenets of culture such as the sciences and the arts are replaced by style and stupidity based on ego and impulse.

Rather than conforming to the general decline in consciousness one may apply fundamental rules of thought to master one’s grasp of reality, find balance in the cacophony of sensory input our modern world spews forth, and cogitate one’s way forward into higher states of mind!

In our modern society we constantly experience the clash of ideas and ideologies, distractions and diversions. People are so sure of themselves that they needlessly and thoughtlessly bring emotion into arguments, rather than just allowing cool-headed logic to assess facts and factors. People are so uncultured they act as though argumentation implies emotive response!

And we won’t even bring up politics or religion!

People are so enamored by their self-centered viewpoints that they are unable to comprehend that other perspectives may offer some validity, even if to properly understand a situation. Information is refused on the basis of source or difference from opinions held, regardless of its validity. Logical fallacies are taken as fact, allowing one to remain smug in their ignorance.

“Conspiracy theory” is one such convenient tool to insulate oneself from the overwhelming truth which stretches far beyond the average human’s paradigm; a hypnotic command to stifle analytic and acquisitive functions of consciousness.

Naturally there is hope, there is always a way forward. The answer is always at hand, even if we are unable to see it in our present state.

There is no law against thinking… yet!

[rantsofamadam]

TW: mentions of depression/SH/suicide and mental health

Depression sucks.

Last night my list was a full page long of everything I wanted to get done today.

Now it’s 9:18 and all I’ve done from that list is do my laundry.

I should shower tonight. I don’t even want to do that. Nearly at all.

Depression ig?

But why? Wrong meds? Off meds? Hormones? Trip depression? Life?

Augh I don’t know.

I just know there’s too much wrong with me and I’m too tired to care.

Death and sex, my two main thoughts.

Oh to be a teenager.

What else is new.

God I’m a fucking mess.

I barely feel like a person enough as it is- and here I am.

2:23 am on Easter Sunday.

Crying.

Because I fell asleep too early like an idiot.

Too apathetic to do much else than sleep. So that’s all I did.

I didn’t really mean to, it was just supposed to be rest.

But now it’s 2 am and everything feels wrong.

My phone is still here. My door was still half closed.

I pray my mother came to check on me even if she knew I was asleep.

My meds are un-taken,

My teeth are un-brushed,

I didn’t shower

My clothes aren’t in the dryer

My hair is matted

My body has new scars,

And my back is aching so badly because I fell asleep on the wrong side.

I woke up with a bloody nose,

There’s an empty suitcase talking up space in my room,

My pillows are flat,

My sheets are coming undone,

Now there is fermenting apple juice in the bottom of a plastic bag on my floor.

I’ve grown so familiar with the smell,

I leave everything how it is.

Because it’s 2:26 am and I’m crying.

None of that will be solved now.

My charger is dead.

My headphones are dying.

My phone is at 18%.

I don’t care anymore.

At least I found my once lost headphones. Even that I barely got right.

I didn’t do any of my homework or clean my room nearly at all.

Can’t even take care of my basic self.

My face is fat and ugly.

I can’t stop being tired.

And now I’m expected to see family and go to church tomorrow?

I hope we don’t.

I hope my brothers sickness lets us just stay home. Not worry about judgement from family. Not worry about Easter. Just be. Please. Just be.

Lord, I think you would forgive us if we just- were. For a day. I know it’s Easter Sunday.

But isn’t this what you died for?

For us to- forgive each other. Lift each other up. Give each other time, space, love, moments to cherish, be together and breathe.

Please.

I need that from my family more than going to church.

My hairs getting long but I’m kind of a fan.

I dream of painful tattoos decorating and scarring my body.

The lines I create are therapeutic in that way.

I stare at my red scars in the mirror.

My shoulder and thighs.

I admire them. I want more but don’t want to ruin their symmetrical, abstract perfection.

Hitting myself is easier than taking action.

Hitting myself is easier than processing.

Hitting myself is easier than receiving love.

Slap. Punch. Slam. Slam. Slam.

I wish I could knock myself unconscious instead of just creating bruises.

I can’t do this.

The anxiety grows to an unbearable point.

Please leave.

Please stay.

Please let me beat myself to a pulp until the cops finally find out.

And rip me from myself.

[saturneers]

Process Church of the Final Judgement involvement in the Son of Sam murders

[solardick]

G is the Grail, the Void from which all things are given and into which all things eventually go. It is the Ground from which we mysteriously grow, the invisible Source. It is the Letter of the Throat. Its bottom is too deep to be seen. Its light is reflected. Its glances sidelong. B begins the process; D checks it; and G is the process itself ongoing. More often than not, English experiences imbalance with respect to Giving and Getting in the face of this vast and invisible place. It either gets greedy, filling itself with gunk and goo and gaudy garbage. A third of G reflects too much of something where it doesn't really belong. And another third reflects not enough where it's desperately needed: it is gaunt, gloomy, grumbling, the grave, the gallows. But there remains a set of words which reflect a very specific sense of balance and a grandeur which is not to be found anywhere else in the English language: Goodness, Gladness, the Grace of God.

V is smooth and vibratory energy which is channelled from within a container (vase) through a very narrow opening (veil, valve) outward (view, vista). Unlike the stopped labials B and P, there is no barrier implicit in V. It runs along a continuum, but it is very far toward one end. Its labial bias is felt in this way. It veers to one side. It avoids the impediments. As with all the fricatives, we are in the midst of an ongoing process in V which does not begin at any point as it does in B and P, nor is interrupted in midstream as with D, nor is directed anywhere specific as with T, nor is gathered or collected anywhere as in G and K. B stands still and supports from below. P stands still and props things up from the side. But V runs alongside in unending service, the vassal, the valet. And V is judgemental. It thinks in terms of virtue and vice. When P errs, it errs on the side of conservatism, for it is unvoiced. It is prudish, picky and preachy. V like B is voiced and errs from excess. Whereas B's transgressions are merely behavioral, V's are of the essence. B is bad. It breaks the societal boundaries and regulations, but V in its worst incarnation is inherently evil. It's not merely the baddie, the bully, the bitch. It is the villain, the vixen, the viper. B may be beautiful, but V is virtuous. It is the Virgin who does not give rise to the world once and for all in the Big Bang of B, but who gives it and lives it ongoing. Since V is voiced, the living is not yet frozen into life. It is not in the realm of form like its unvoiced counterpart F. It is the living verb.

-Margaret Magnus-

У Него - Oo NyeVo

У него - he has/had/will have

“Nevo” is a masculine subject.

A play on tarot cards bring these letters to the final judgement, strength/fortitude, lover(s), god/hierophant/church/conscience, and the star. The vowels are not counted here for they do not fall into the consonant category of letters. Though on, the personal vote of selected images which havent failed as of yet to meet satisfactory pictoral definition, equals out the the marseilles fool card, which may be equalled to the petulant fool, and the Oo death card from one of the version of the etteila decks. Bridging the distant non-existant to the material plain. As a sort of prophecy.

Numbers may be added, which i am still experimenting, with layerings, as number 4 and number 22. Which added equals the magical number 26, by the english standard alphabet, to completion. Subtracted equals out to 18. The howling tarot moon. And card letter R, as the tarot’s temperance. Which also is the reflected symbol of the russian letter Я, the last letter of the russian alphabet, holding the definition of I.-> One, self, me.

As with all things, the Japanese dragon/serpent is a mixture of animals, all blended together and isn’t necesarally a positive portent card. The dove may be replaced by a croh. Which would be this images “shadow” side, or reversed image. And all the structure beneath would be set ablaze. Place in the sky, the home of pure chaos.

The contrast with the letter Z being a female. And the letter Я would be a male. The counterpart of temperance. Representing the self owned “divine” masculine.

The other curiosity by contrast between the qwerty and jcuzen type sets is that death is the first key on the qwerty. The last of of physical being. An dthe Я as the first key on the jcuzen set. Is the last last imagr of the russian cyrilic alphabet. Which needs to be distuiguished as there are multiple cyrilic sets of alphabets. But none are as relavent as in russian in thr “american” culture.

I, went over a little bit about my proper spelling of the word Croh, without the letter W. for the notion is reversed in reality. As ones consistly insults thr croh by mispronouncing its name. As is shown by the lapse in logic in the spelling of bow and bow. Though both fallow thr same structure in form as a bow will bow when tightened. But a crow wont crow it kaws. If that makes any sense. When one says hello krahs one starts speaking its language. Since the howling moon card is the letter W. removing its power by detaching it from the croh. Changes a source of its power. No longer in the moon card as heavily influenced by bad tidings. And when a woman’s menstration cycles starts it wouldnt be so castrating to the male. “Oh, she’s bleeding again. Damn, but im horny.”

The “homo” erotic is embedded in the vary language one uses. Why is prostate so similar to prostrate and pro-state as is menstruation is to castration? When the only difference between all three is the letter R? Temperance. Shown performing something that shouldn’t be so by the very laws of nature? Can one guess which way the water is flowing? Is it up or is it down. And why is it related to sex and erotisicm in both cases?

And to fallow this notion is the russian letter О. Very much like in english it varies in its pronunciation. As there are seemingly missing letters. And the russian O isnt so far off from an A. It varies by word. These choices of card images reflect all of this. As the blind fool is connected to the etteila chosen Oo death card. Which is fitting and still giving room to the ltgbq community as a rather queer looking card image. At face value. But all of this os only so, for the hyper sexualism of modern day “america.” Where libertism over extends itself unchencked and unballanced as is supported by addiction and the pass me down inheritance by “spychic” or habitual associations.

To cooberate this is the rediculousness of Donald trump as american president. Playing the dumb fool while pressing for extremist conservatism in the northern liberal states. At the same time emmidiatly prior as Putin invade ukraine with the same conservatist attitude towards reclaiming lost land? And the media priming of years prior in associating russia as red flagged soviet communists.

Oh, and whats the differnece between putin have so many years in political office as is the trudo family in Canadian politics? Its nit so differnet from a monarchy passing the crown down as the family inherentance, considering they can hold office indefinatally.

One may continue on pressing associations. With relevance to the ГV card with number 26. The 26th letter of the russian Cyrillic alphabet is Ш -sh. And the 18th letter of the russian Cyrillic alphabet being P-r. Considering there is no equalivant form of the english letter W in russian, which helps explain their accent, Ш is the immediate association an english speaker will come to. Fallowed secondly by the letter E. and the russian P, the english/latin hanged man is pronounced as the letter R. Temperance. Which is a Sun card by literal association and not merely imaginal. Not much else needs to be spoken here to make a seamless association to the pictorial definition of card ГV. Based on a perfect balanve between the sun and the moon by heavenly, celestial bodies. Which is a major compliment to the feminine body fully reflecting a radiant sun. As is lunch time a break from the hassle and towards rejuvenation.

Though curious by history that the russian don’t have a W moon card. And the fact that they lost the “race” in reaching the moon and writting their name on it.

😮‍💨 hoax!

So.. what did one come to? RV? PR? W-sh? What is missing here? Don’t need the vowel i to decern a wish for union.

The word простите in russian (prostitye) means sorry. I am sorry.

Guess that’s it. Later. Y’all.