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#our prayer (refrain
lovelybydecay · 2 years
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our prayer dot midi
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magnetothemagnificent · 7 months
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Hello! I do hope this doesn't come off too presumptuous, but looking through your blog, you seem like the kind of chap who'd be able to answer my question better than the hodge-podge Google's been throwing at me
I was raised by Messianic "Jewish" parents (not Jews, just Christians stealing your traditions and holidays, but I'm sure you're familiar), and now that I've left Whatever That Faith was, it's become more and more obvious to me how much my parents basically just forced Christian Doctrine onto Jewish tradition.
Anyway, when I was a kid, I was taught that the reason people fasted on Yom Kippur was so that in denying our bodies of sustenance, we would learn to more fully rely on God, with an added bonus of: we're supposed to be too guilty for our sins to eat on Yom Kippur. To me that feels very Christian, specifically extremely Baptist.
So my question for you would be: Is that actually why Jewish people fast on Yom Kippur? Or is there a different reason?
First off, I applaud you for recognizing the problematic environment you were raised in and doing the work to educate yourself. That takes a lot of courage and strength and I'm proud of you.
You may notice that in Judaism, we rarely agree on anything, so I'll talk about three reasons.
One of the main reasons I was taught for fasting on Yom Kippur was to remove any distractions so that we can focus purely on reflecting on the past year and working towards bettering the new year and ourselves. If it was about suffering, then people who medically or psychologically cannot fast would be commanded to fast anyway, when in reality it is forbidden to fast if you physically cannot. In fact, we are commanded to eat a lot the day before Yom Kippur so that we don't suffer while fasting. Yom Kippur has a lot of additional prayers, and so we really end up spending most of the day and night before in synagogue, and don't really have time to eat, anyway. Essentially, we're supposed to "hyperfocus" in a sense on our spiritual reflections of that the day.
Fasting isn't the only commandment of Yom Kippur- we are also commanded to refrain from excessive annointing or bathing (in modern applications- don't shower, don't use skin creams if you don't have to, don't have a foot bath, etc), sexual intercourse, wearing leather shoes, and more also don't wear jewelry. This is in line with the commandment to "afflict" one's soul on Yom Kippur, which actually isn't the same as the Christian idea of affliction- we're not supposed to be in pain or suffering, but rather just depriving ourselves temporarily of certain pleasures or desires so that we can focus on a more spiritual mindset that is unique to Yom Kippur.
There is another interpretation of why we fast which is so that we become more akin to angels. Angels are entirely spiritual beings whose entire purpose is service of G-d, and many interpret the different rituals of Yom Kippur as attempting to emulate angels. We pray a lot of Yom Kippur prayers standing (if we're able to) with our feet and ankles together to mimic the appearence of angels, who do not have legs or any lower-body but rather "stand" as a column. We do not eat or have sexual intercourse or bathe or anoint because angels do not need to and are even unable to engage in such actions. We wear white to appear like angels. And because angels don't have free will and are therefore incapable of sin, they have nothing to be forgiven for, and therefore in this way we may encourage G-d to see us as angels and see us as blameless.
Some more reading:
Why Fast on Yom Kippur?
Yom Kippur Customs and Rituals
Yom Kippur Fasting
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celestiababie · 10 months
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Cat Cam- W.JH
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Pairings: camboy! Jun x gn! reader (kinda)
Genre: just pure smut ngl
Warnings: mild pet play, male masturbation, indirect mentions of other members, cum eating, use of petnames (prettyboy, baby, babyboy, kitten) reader's username is princesspeach so jun calls them princess at one point. tbh this is just jun jerking off..idk what else to add 
Word Count: 1.9k
A/N: Okay so, I meant to post this a while ago, but a lot was going on in my personal life. Sorry that it's so short...and I didn't edit it that much, but I hope you enjoy it anyway! Feedback is always appreciated, please don't be a silent reader!
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"Oh! There's a package from sweet_tangerines. Thank you very much! The last item you sent ended up being my most viewed clip when I used it, so I have a good feeling about this one," Jun said as he waved the box to the camera.  
Jun winks into the camera, causing an influx of horny messages to scroll by on his screen, and the tips he made sure to thank as he opened up the package set in his lap.
 Truthfully this was what he loved most about his job, the attention. How he could do anything, and his viewers would eat it up graciously, leaving messages that made his ego (and something else) swell. 
At first, it meant to be a side hustle, a way to dig him out of the student debt and bills he was suffocating in. His paychecks sure as hell weren't cutting it, and he needed an answer to his problems fast.
Really fast.
Luckily for Jun, his prayers were answered one fateful night while browsing his favorite pornsite, cock in hand. Yeah, he was struggling, but everyone deserves to make themselves feel good. And if he was paying for his phone not to get shut off, he might as well make good use of the wonders of the internet. 
Usually skipping over the ads, he couldn't help but hover his finger over the button, tilting his head as a light bulb went off in his head as he watched a girl in the ad promote a cam website.
Jun never considered himself egotistical, but he was far from blind to his attractiveness. He had a handsome face, a body he worked hard for despite taking up extra shifts at his job, and a pretty cock, in his opinion. Who wouldn't want to watch him jerk off? He could do that for a few months, and all his problems would be solved.
And so he did, making an account and gaining traction pretty quickly due to his looks and how much he interacted with the audience.
A year later, he was still going live for his viewers, not just for the money, but because jerking off without thousands of eyes on him didn't do it for him anymore. He needs the attention to cum; the times he tried without left him only more sexually frustrated than before he began.
Another perk of the job was undoubtedly the gifts he received over the year, but with the package in his lap now opened, he was starting to question his audience's sanity.
 Jun typically refrained from kink shaming, but a pair of cat ears? Really?
"Sweet_tangerines, I'm not sure what you expect me to do with this, but I'll put it on just for you," Jun shyly smiled into the camera before going off-screen, causing his viewers to start guessing what the item could be.
sweet_tangerines: he's gonna look so CUTE!!
dinonono: is it a thong? I'm betting on a thong
gyubear97: I don't know what it is but I want it to be a thong 💓
princesspeach: whatever it is, I know our baby boy will look so sexy 
princesspeach tipped 500 coins!
Jun hears his tips go off from the corner of his room as he adjusts the cat eats on his head. A blush washed over him at the sound signifying a big tip, knowing exactly who it was.
His favorite reoccurring viewer was going to watch him pleasure himself dressed up in cat ears…
Jun took one last look in the mirror before making his way back to his desk, his head out of frame due to his height and hiding the surprise from everyone. Once he plopped down onto his chair, he was sure his computer was ready to crash with how fast the chat was moving.
His shyness slowly faded as he tried to keep up with the messages as much as possible.
"I see that you guys like the cat ears. We should all thank sweet_tangerines for this generous gift," his deep voice rang out to his audience, almost as if he was teasing them for enjoying this so much. 
But truthfully, he was enjoying it just as much.
Maybe not the cat ears specifically, but all the attention he was receiving because of it sure had an effect, his cock straining against his jeans, a visible tent forming, which people quickly took note of.
princesspeach: the kitty is getting hard already. you haven't even touched yourself. you should show us, pretty boy. 
Jun bit his lip as he caught your message in the sea of others, making eye contact with the camera knowing you were paying full attention to him. 
His hand mindlessly starts rubbing his thigh, inching further up until he palms himself, squeezing the sides of his shaft through his jeans and giving some relief. His head tilts back in his chair, eyes closing as he basked in the fact thousands were watching him tease himself. 
princesspeach: show us your pretty cock
princesspeach tipped 300 coins!
The sound of another big tip forces Jun's eyes open, reading out the message and thanking you for the tip as he stands up to shimmy out of his jeans. 
He takes his sweet time taking off his underwear, the band of his boxers sliding along his cock before his full length slaps against his toned abdomen, another wave of messages causing his cock to twitch.
Sitting back down, he makes eye contact with his webcam again with his cock in his hand. He slowly begins to pleasure himself, feeling his veins pulse in his grip as he moves his hand up and down along his shaft.
"How was everyone's day? I hope all of you can lay down and relax with me," he practically purrs, his deep voice rumbling in his chest.
princesspeach: how’s your hand feel, kitten? your cock is leaking so much
“Fuck, it feels so good. I wish it was you around my cock instead, baby…” Jun’s eyes flutter at the sight of the nickname, his cock jolting in response, a bead of precum leaking out of the slit of his tip. He presses his finger against the sticky substance, pulling his finger away, causing a trail of his precum to follow his finger, glistening in the mood lighting in his bedroom, driving his viewers further into a state of desire.
His intense gaze captivates his audience through the camera as he brings his finger to his lips, his tongue darting out to lick his arousal off his fingertip before sliding two digits into his wet mouth, his tongue swirling around them as his other hand takes hold of his cock, jerking himself off faster this time around. 
gyubear97: oh my fucking god this is so hot…i’m not gonna last 
dinonono: me neither tbh, the cat ears are a nice touch
sweet_tangerines: shit, he always looks good
princesspeach: see how many people love seeing you jerk that pretty cock, kitten? I bet you love the attention 
princesspeach: such a pretty slut for us
princesspeach: I’d love to stuff your cock in my mouth, make you cum down my throat
Jun can’t help but focus solely on your messages, the words flying by fast, but fueling his pleasure, getting closer and closer to his impending climax.
Jun takes a second to tug his shirt over his head, finally giving his viewers a good look at his stunning body, the mood lighting emphasizing the hills and valleys of his abs. He chuckles at the immediate response he receives while he readjusts the cat ears on his head that nearly fell off his head while removing his shirt. 
He sits back in his chair, his right hand quickly moving back to his cock, his left one rubbing up and down his stomach before inching further up to tease at his nipples, moans slipping out of him as more precum leaks out of his cock, making it easier to fuck himself with hand. 
At some point, Jun’s eyes close fully, losing himself to the pleasure as his head falls back on the headrest of his chair, his adam’s apple bobbing as he desperately tries to swallow his moans but fails miserably.
Almost anyone would agree that this was one of the most sinful sights they ever laid their eyes upon. 
The man's body on full display, cute cat ears adorning his head despite his acts being anything but cute. How the perspiration on his body glistened as he got more worked up, the dark red flush of his cock as it leaked precum continuously, his cock glossy from his arousal and emphasizing every vein along his shaft. 
princesspeach: babyboy gonna cum for us?
princesspeach tipped 300 coins!
princesspeach: cum for me baby 
princesspeach: I'll cum with you
The notification sound of your tip forces his eyes to reopen, making the grave mistake of looking at the messages that followed.
Jun's hips stutter, fucking into his hand uncontrollably as he finally falls over the edge, his whole body burning hot as flashes of pleasure run through his body.
"T-thank you for the tip, p-princess," he moans out, thick globs of cum slipping out of his slit and onto his hand as he desperately tried to ride out his orgasm for as long as possible.
Once it felt like too much, he finally pulled his hand away from his softening cock, reveling in the light and blissful feeling he get when he had an intense orgasm. He pants heavily, taking a good couple of minutes to regain control of himself before he blinks up at the ceiling.
dinonono: damn, he came more than usual today
sweet_tangerines: i hope he uploads today's stream…i need to rewatch it 
gyubear97: I already came twice…
Jun finally looks back into the camera, a subtle smirk across his lips as he raises his cum covered hand to his face to lick it off.
princesspeach: does the kitten like cleaning himself off? tastes good, doesn't it?
Jun chuckles softly at your comment as he licks off the remainder of his cum.
"I think it's time I wrap up this stream, guys. I had a lot of fun and hope all of you enjoyed yourselves as well. I'll do another stream in two days but don't worry! Tonight's stream will be posted to hold you over in the meantime. Have a good night, everyone!" 
Jun winks into the camera before waving goodbye, his free hand moving to his desk to stop his stream. 
He lets out a huff as he leans back in his chair, too lazy to get fully cleaned and dressed just yet, but the ringing of his phone from his bedside table forces him to get up out of his chair.
He rolls his eyes despite the blush on his face when he sees who's calling, taking a deep breath before sliding his thumb across to answer.
"Did you have to call me right after I closed the stream?"
"Oh shush, I'm only calling to ask if I should come over tomorrow since you won't be live."
Jun bites his lip at the offer, his mind thinking back to the times he's had you in his bed.
"You can come over, baby. I'll even wear the cat ears since you seemed to like them so much," he purrs into the phone.
"I'll hold you to that, kitten."
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bintturaab · 1 year
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Ramadan Mubarak everyone!
May Allah عز وجل grant us good health and imaan to get closer to Him in this blessed month, ameen.
As we all know, fasting is obligatory in Ramadan, but in essence Ramadan isn't just a month of refraining from food and drinks, but it's a month that's supposed to instill in us taqwa - being conscious of Allah - through our fasting. So, bi idhnillah (by the permission of Allah) this is the perfect time to build and get back into habits you want to incorporate into your life.
If you've slacked off in prayer, then let this month be the incentive to get back into it. If the Qur'an has become a forgotten book or a neglected app, let this month in which the Qur'an was revealed in, be the time where you reinvent your relationship with it, even if it is 1 verse a day. Develop the habit of charity no matter how small the amount. Cut down on vain talks, distance yourself from sins and bad habits a bit. And don't treat your fast as something optional, inconvenient, that can be ignored or broken at the slightest reasons. It is what distances you from Jahannam.
Let this Ramadan not be a temporary fix, but a slow and silent dedication to take 1 step towards reforming our lives and ourselves permanently, for the sake of Allah. Because Ramadan truly shows us what we're capable of, and brings to light our potential. May Allah make us sincere, ameen ♡
On that note, remember the ummah in your duas this month; the oppressed, the imprisoned, the ones giving their wealth and their lives in defence of this deen. May Allah عز وجل ease all of theirs, and our, affairs. Ameen.
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nyonyen · 16 days
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FORGIVE ME FATHER
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randal ivory x gn!reader | AO3 | 18+ ᴛᴀɢs: priest kink, blow-jobs, cum sharing, first time for randal potentially? ɪɴsᴘɪʀᴇᴅ ʙʏ: that one nyen/randal anon fic on AO3 obv
“Now, why don't you come on down to my confession box, dearest believer, kekeke…” Randal practically purred in your ear as you lounged on the couch with Nyon.
You startle easily from this, and turn in confusion, only to become even more so: Randal is standing there, dressed in what looks like a shitty Spirit Halloween priest costume.
“The hell are you wearing?”
“It's a cassock, you pleb!” He spits suddenly, seemingly offended that you don't know the ins and outs of clerical clothing. “You'll pay me respect if you wanna see heaven, yeah?”
Randal drags you from the couch by your collar, landing you on the carpet below. Nyon scuttles away quickly. He grins sickly at you from above, and his nose begins to drip– landing right on your cheek.
“Jesus, you're gross!”
“Sacrilege! Sacrilege!” He screeches, his grin only getting wider and bloodier as he continues dragging you to his DIY confessional– an amalgamation of cardboard boxes he found outside a convenience store. Anything to anger Cody. “Oh, how we must pray for our Good Lord to save you, keke!”
Finally reaching the room, he tosses you at what you can only assume is the ‘foot’ of his creation. Randal looks at you with feigned disdain, but you know he is delighting in this power play. Walking ‘inside’ the boxes, you can barely see him through the haphazardly made slits– made obviously by a boxcutter.
“Kneel, and speak to your Savior!”
You squint at him, “I don't think that's how Christianity works…”
“I think I know more about Christianity than you do, genius. Look, I even made my own holy water!”
He gestures to a bird bath he hauled from Luther’s garden that seems to be filled with a soda of some kind. An impromptu baptismal stoup? You'll figure that out later.
You decide to bite the bullet and kneel on the dakimakura Randal gestures to, serving as your holy seat. You're sure he's explained to you who the anime girl is on this one in particular, but you could not be half-assed to care. Assuming the typical position of prayer, you clear your throat.
“Um… forgive me, Father, for I have sinned?”
The depraved giggling from beyond the hallowed cardboard is enough to make you shiver, “Go on, sinner. Get to the good stuff already.” Randal presses his face against the thin openings, staring at you as you shut your eyes tightly, “Well, does forgetting to flush count as a sin?” He groans, banging his head against the relatively soft material, “No, no, no! Tell me all about the gross things, the juicy innards. The giblets!”
Feeling his hot breath on your face, you relent, “Alright. Forgive me, Father, for I have fantasized about smothering you in your sleep more times than I can count. And I accidentally kicked Nyon once. Happy?”
“Oh, I see, I see,” Randal hums, and whispers rather loudly, “You don't wanna confess about last night?”
Your eyes shoot open at this– how did he know about last night? He couldn’t have known about the dream you had, right?
“What are you talking about?” A bead of sweat dripping from your brow betrays your collected voice.
He keeps the same tone, “You’re acting like I didn’t explain everything there is to know about dream mechanics… you’re in my proximity, (Y/N). I know about your little ‘wet dream.’ That’s what it’s called, yeah?”
Unclasping your hands, you move to get up from the pillow. As quick as you could blink, Randal shoves you back down. Groaning, you try your best to fight back the embarrassment growing, “I… don’t need to say anything if you already know, right?”
Adjusting his glasses, he tuts, “That isn’t how this works! To be free, you must collect penance, my child. Release thou sin!”
You refrain from correcting his Old English, or commenting on the way he called you child, and instead focus on how you would phrase your words, “Okay, last night… I had a wet dream about my insane roommate. It wasn’t my fault, it was just a random dream!”
“But you still enjoyed it, didn’t you?” You could see the glint of his glasses as he craned his neck. “You made such a mess in the coffin I so nicely lent you. I get it, dream Randal seemed so… dreamy!”
None of this was untrue, you couldn’t bring yourself to deny it, so Randal just continued. He peers over the cardboard at you, “I didn’t think you were into such lewd things, (Y/N). I mean, public blowjobs are so…”
Your breathing picked up, and the silence was so thick it felt as though you could swim in it. He leers at you, lapping up your anxiety and embarrassment like it was the juiciest of fruits, “Crawl over here, and receive your penance.”
In no place to argue, you shuffle to the other side of the crude excuse for a confessional. You’re met with quite the sight: Randal reclined in his shitty little costume, with the bottom-most buttons undone, revealing his haphazardly pulled-down boxers. His cock was in full view, reddened, and already wet.
If you had been paying any attention earlier to something other than your shame, you would’ve heard the telltale sounds of him jacking off.
You open your mouth to speak, but the way he grips the base of his cock makes you swallow whatever it was you had thought to say. Despite everything, you found this NEET scum attractive, and you'll never hear the end of it.
“Cat got your tongue? Kekeke!” You could see that even he was sweating a bit, unconfident in his movements. It would make sense that he was inexperienced, only mimicking things that he's seen in his now confiscated eroge and crude doujinshi. “What's taking you so long? Come on!”
Randal’s gloved hand pulled at your hair, bringing you closer to where he so desperately wanted you. You shudder in this indelicate embrace and tentatively lick at his tip. He shudders as well, the roughness he so often treated himself with was nothing like your soft tongue.
Smirking slightly at the bucking of his hips, you begin to suck gently, your hand coming to wrap around the base. He hisses as you suck harsher, moving further down his length— that, of which, was nothing to write home about.
“Fuck, I don't know if God will forgive you for this, hnn…”
Ignoring him, you relish in the feeling of the weight on your tongue, and you swirl around the length. Your hands come to rest on his thighs as you deepthroat him. Randal chokes out an unexpected moan, pulling your hair very harshly in his pleasure.
“Your tongue is so… wet, and warm!”
Looking up at him finally, you see the state of disarray your movements have him in: his normally unkempt hair was even more so, and his face was covered in a fierce blush. His fingers trembled as they gripped your scalp like a lifeline, and as you continued to suck, you could feel him edging closer and closer to the edge.
Randal’s head lolls back as he whines, “If you stop, you’re never… never gonna get forgiven, fuck!”
You release him from your lips with a pop but continue pumping him with your hand, “Drop the fucking priest act and I’ll let you cum, yeah?”
“Don’t defy me,” he attempts to glare at you through his lusty gaze, “I’m still technically, hnn, your master!”
Rolling your eyes, you go back to sucking at his tip, timing it with your strokes in a way that you knew would make him go crazy. He trembles in your grasp, his façade crumbling as he rapidly approaches release. With one lidded look at him, he falls apart in your mouth. He bucks up into your mouth as he rides out his orgasm, causing you to gag, but you keep it together for as long as you can.
Randal is left with a blissed-out gaze, a drooling mouth, and a bleeding nose as you move off of him. He pulls you up, still by the hair, and practically shoves his tongue into your mouth— creating a mix of your joined saliva and his release. He moans as he tastes his own seed, and only separates when he knows you need to breathe.
With only a thread connecting the two of you, he lets out a shaky breath and grins, “Amen.”
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gravedigginbbydoll · 8 months
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Hawkins University : The Munson Edition
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AN: Hey! So this is our first chapter from the perspective of reader! The use of Bug is just as a nickname I find cute. Also pls remember reblogs are appreciated !
→ cliches: friends to lovers, heavy use of nicknames instead of Y/N, we're all just struggling college kids, Music Tutor! Eddie, Resident Assistant! Reader, good girl x bad boy, instant connections, 'I don't trust most people but I trust you', 'are we friends or more?', and 'I can't believe you're such a slut that you have a special dtf drawer...'
→ warnings: mature topics, drinking and drug usage, strong language, bullying, mental health, eventual smut, minors dni
→ pairing: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader
<Previous Masterlist Next>
Chapter 2 
Bug’s POV 
When the semester started, you thought everything was flowing well. Your job as a Resident Assistant was rewarding though stressful, your professors were generally pretty easy going, and you had signed up for the easiest class to take in order to complete your art credit. 
At least, you thought you had. 
You had come into the classroom on the first day, only to find empty seats, panic overcoming your senses. 
You had quickly emailed the professor, hoping maybe she’d respond soon. 
She hadn’t replied until that Friday. 
You had opened the email on the desk computer while still at work, trying to complete small tasks and homework while the dorm lobby was quiet. Just reading the first few sentences, you felt your stomach drop to the floor. 
The class had been dissolved, not enough students signing up for the History of Women in Art course. You felt panic bubble up in you as you scrambled to email your advisor, forwarding them the email and asking for a meeting to discuss further what to do. You refrained from including a rant about misogyny and how feminine influences were often undermined and ignored, although you felt an itch to do so. 
You really didn’t care about it at the moment, truth be told, but were more so worried about graduating soon. You had planned to finish your art elective and put your nose to the grind on your major, working hard to finish within the next year. 
You couldn’t start those advanced courses, however, without this last art elective course. 
You sighed with relief as your advisor emailed you back quickly, asking you to meet with her on Monday so you could discuss alternative options and classes. You got back to doing your homework and helping residents, humming as you went.
Hopefully, you’d be back on track soon.
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“I’m afraid all the other courses are filled up,” She stated, her expression apologetic, her hands folded in front of her like a prayer. 
You felt your mouth go dry. 
Full? 
You could kiss early graduation and your money goodbye. How were you supposed to graduate on time and have your loans forgiven if you couldn’t even do this one measly course? 
“There’s gotta be something,” You offered weakly, your palms clammy as you tried to wipe your hands on your jean covered thighs. 
She pursed her lips, brows pinched in thought as she sighed. “Well there is one course. It’s got a few spaces empty. But it’s a music course and requires an instrument. It is for beginners though. You’d be at a disadvantage but…” 
You perked up, your heart pounding. You were notoriously bad at instruments. You had attempted to take up orchestra in middle school, only to find out that you had zero patience to practice and stick with the skill. Plus, cellos were heavy. 
But, you were desperate. 
A determined look fell over your face as you nodded. 
“Where do I sign up?” 
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You had signed up for the course, your advisor vouching for you to the professor, who seemed a bit concerned at you coming in two weeks late but had decided to trust you. You rented a guitar from the local music store, The Ghost Note, and picked the cheapest option. 
The first day you had come into class you could feel your nerves tingling. You had gotten in, but now you just had to pass. You wouldn’t be too stressed if Professor Howard hadn’t told you about the in person tests they took, which essentially consisted of doing a short set of chords and proving that you could read the sheet music. 
You sat down, opening your guitar case and pulling the huge and foreign feeling instrument into your lap. You had settled in when a tumble of limbs and hair rushed into the seat next to you. You peeked out of the corner of your eye, seeing a tall and lean man with unruly curls pulled back into a loose bun throw off a worn out black backpack. He was quite a character, dressed in black ripped jeans, worn out combat boots on his feet, and a faded out Misfits band tour shirt, while a distressed and patched up black jean jacket lay over it. He wore a lot of chains and silver jewelry, his nails painted black in contrast. He seemed to settle into his seat, pulling out his guitar from a case customized in stickers just as much as his jacket, the white paint against the darker and well worn wood catching your attention. 
THIS MACHINE SLAYS Dragons, it read in sloppy handwriting, the last word not all in capitals like its predecessors, indicating that whoever had hand painted it had miscalculated how much space they had. You felt a smile tug at your lips. It was clearly a fantasy play on Woody Guthrie’s famous anti-fascist guitar. It was amusing and almost endearing that this very tall and intimidating alternative musician had referenced an old folk singer in the nerdiest way. 
You found your mouth opening before you could stop yourself. 
“A Guthrie fan, huh?,” You joked, catching his attention. 
He looked at you, and you felt your throat tighten and your face burn with heat. Oh. He was attractive. He had full brows set in a slight pinched expression over big doe brown eyes, and pink full lips, slight scruff on his face like he had just forgotten recently to shave. His eyes were scanning you, almost like he was trying to figure you out. You swallowed, your mouth drier than the desert. He opened his mouth to speak right as your professor came up to the front of the class, catching the mystery boy’s attention again. 
You sighed in relief, fidgeting in your chair to get comfortable with the large instrument once again and try to calm the fire alight in your chest. Maybe this class wouldn’t be too bad. 
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You took it back. You hated this class. About 15 minutes in, you felt your fingers begin to cramp and the heat traveled from the back of your neck to the very tips of your ears. The cute man seated next to you had his nose scrunched up and lips pulled down in a frown at every dissonant chord you strummed. You couldn’t help but feel bitter, his fingers gliding over the neck of the guitar as if it was second nature. 
What the hell. 
By the end of the class, you felt like your hand was rusted metal, all creaky and stiff. You kept flexing your fingers and wincing. 
You noticed Professor Howard getting ready to leave and leaped up, walking over to ask about tutoring. You clearly would need help and as much as it killed you to ask for help to learn how to just strum a few strings, you couldn’t risk failing. 
“Hey…So I am so grateful you let me in this class, Mr. Howard. I know it’s late and all, what with me being behind two weeks. But I have to be honest, I am not… the most musically inclined. I just was wondering if you have any tutoring, or offer some help outside of class?,” You asked politely, trying to hide your nervous fidgeting. 
Mr. Howard furrowed his bushy brown brows, wearing his confusion as clear as day on his face. “Tutoring? For beginning guitar?,” He questioned, his tone suggesting that it was almost as ridiculous as suggesting that male media arts majors stop praising films like Citizen Kane as ‘gospel’. (You’d seen it yourself, once suggesting to a casual date your freshman year that it wasn’t your favorite movie, only to be met with a 30 minute rant about your taste in ‘films’ and how you were ‘uncultured’.) 
You felt the embarrassment sink in as you laughed a little, your hands making big gestures as you spoke, a nervous habit. “Yeah, I know. I just struggle with the chords and placing my fingers, and I really want to be successful in this course-” 
Mr. Howard cut you off with a gently raised hand and an apologetic look. “I’m afraid I don’t do tutoring. At least not for this course. You are welcome to rent out the space to practice on your own time. Otherwise I suggest maybe approaching a classmate for help,” He offered gently. 
Panic settled into your skin, you swallowed as your throat felt tight. You hated talking to strangers and didn’t know a soul in this class. You tried to smile, feeling it falter, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. Fuck. 
“Please, Mr. Howard, I don’t know anyone in this course and I can’t risk failing-” 
He frowned, eyebrows furrowed as he sighed, clearly wanting to help. “Well, I’m sure Mr. Munson would be more than happy to help. He teaches private lessons at The Ghost Note and my niece takes them. He’s probably the best student I’ve had in this class,” He gestured toward the classroom and you turned. It was the mystery man who sat next to you cringing at your playing the entire class, slowly packing away his things. The moment your eyes landed on him, it was like someone hit the gas in his brain, as he shrugged on his bag quickly and briskly walked towards the door. 
You nodded and thanked Mr. Howard for his help, backing up slowly to grab your things and race out of there. You grabbed everything, racing out the door, seeing him briskly trying to exit the building. You felt the flutter of nerves as you raced to catch up, your guitar case repeatedly hitting your thighs and definitely leaving a bruise, but you didn’t have time to concern yourself with it. 
“Hey! Wait!,” You shouted, the noise echoing in the hallways of the building. 
He winced at the noise, but stopped in his tracks, slowly turning around to face you. 
You stopped in front of him, your guitar case dropped helplessly to the floor as you were hunched over, getting out the words before you could catch your breath. 
“Look, I know I play like shit and my guitar is a very shitty rental, but I need to take this class in order to graduate early, because it’s my last non-major course, and all the other art electives are filled up. Professor Howard said you’re like the most talented student in the class and that his niece has you private tutor her at the music store, and I really really need an A in this class. So…Can you help me? Please?,” You breathlessly spilled out, huffing from having to chase after him, your hands on your knees. 
You looked up at him, seeing his clearly irritated expression, his mouth in that frown again. Your eyes begin to sting again as panic overwhelms you and your thoughts race, your hands shaking at your sides. 
Well, you're going to fail. You’ll fail, be unable to graduate next year, lose the loan forgiveness, and have to pay for everything out of pocket and maybe even drop out. Long gone are your hopes of being an independent adult and -
He looked down at you, his expression hard at first before softening as he saw you. He seemed to explore your face before biting his lip, looking away and rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. 
 “Alright. I’ll help you.” 
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You exchanged numbers and details with the strangely attractive musician, him typing his name in your phone as Eddie with a little skull and crossbones emoji. You simply wrote Bug with a goofy caterpillar emoji on his very cracked and old smartphone. When he looked at you confused as he glanced at the contact, given that it wasn’t the name you’d told him, you shrugged. 
“It’s a nickname I’ve had since I was a kid. Short for lovebug, I guess. That or because I am actually deathly afraid of insects and everyone thinks that it’s hilarious,” You joked, smiling shyly. 
He nodded, a slight smirk on his face as he nodded and pocketed his phone. “Well, I gotta head out, but I’ll text you my schedule so we can find a time to practice and work on your fingering.” 
You felt your skin grow hot before you remembered that fingering was a term for guitarists talking about moving your fingers while playing chords. You could imagine that your facial expression was something of both horror and embarrassment because Eddie laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners as his toothy smile revealed the dimples on either side of his mouth. 
He walked backward out the doors, giving you a mock salute, the boyish grin still on his face. “Later, Bug.”
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You had texted Eddie back and forth a few times, learning that he messaged like an old man. Periods, correct punctuation and full sentences. It would be painful if it wasn’t so amusing. 
You had settled on meeting up on Friday afternoons after your shift at your second job, The Recycling Bin, a reused book store. Eddie sent you the apartment complex address and number, letting you know he’d meet you outside the building. 
You showed up after work, probably still smelling like old pages and dust, struggling to wrangle the guitar out of the backseat of your tiny car, waddling over to the building he was leaning against the outside of. He had one foot against the brick wall, and a hand rolled cigarette in between his fingers, leaning his head back against the brick to blow the smoke into the air. You felt your chest get tight, your thighs shaking a bit as you walked over. You hated the smell, but couldn’t deny the way that his head fell back, exposing his neck, didn’t make you feel some… things. 
He pushed off the wall, looking over toward you and smiling, throwing his cigarette down to put it out with the toe of his boot before walking over. He was dressed in an oversized black sweatshirt with the Hawkins University logo on it despite the mild weather, the elbows hand patched with green flannel to match the dark green letters across his chest. He had his hair down this time, allowing you to see the long curls. 
“Hey Bug,” He smiled at you, before glancing down at the guitar case in your hand as if it offended him. His nose scrunched up in a way that reminded you of a toddler grossed out by his vegetables. “You brought that piece of scrap wood?” 
You frowned a bit, glaring up at him. “I’ll have you know, Munson, that I rented this from your workplace. So blame your coworkers.” 
He nodded, smiling boyishly before taking the case from you, leading the way up the stairs to his apartment. “I actually do,” He joked. “I bet Rick let you rent this thing, he’s always stoned at work.” 
You recalled that the man who serviced you did seem a bit dopey, his eyes slightly tinged red. You had kinda written it off as him being tired. You should’ve known better. 
When he reached his door, he rummaged in his pocket, fishing out a key and unlocking it. He stepped inside, opening the door wider for you to enter. “Come on in, Bug,” He smiled, allowing you to enter the small apartment, your eyes exploring his space. “Shoes off, please,” He politely chided, toeing off his own combat boots. You did the same, taking off your sneakers to leave you in your socks and placed them neatly by his haphazardly taken off shoes. You looked over toward him, seeing that he was headed with your guitar to the couch, but something else caught your eye. The big scary alternative man who smoked and wore torn and patched up clothes had on black socks covered in red D20 dice, the die of choice for tabletop roleplaying game enthusiasts. You knew this because your friend had briefly been interested in Dungeons and Dragons, talking to you about the game when she had been trying to convince you to join her party. You felt a smile creep on your face as Eddie looked at you confused from the worn out gray fabric couch, his brows furrowed. 
“What’re you looking at me like that for?” 
You grinned mischievously, walking over toward the couch, and taking a seat. 
Eddie gave you a look that read ‘okay, you’re weird’, shaking his head and strumming the guitar while humming, turning the pegs to adjust the sound. 
“So…You’re a big fantasy and TTRPG nerd, huh?,” You asked innocently, laughing when Eddie’s head shot up, his cheeks dusted a dark pink. 
“What?”
You pointed down at his socks which were slightly hidden since he was sitting cross legged on the couch. “There’s D20’s on them. And your guitar says ‘slays dragons’.” 
Eddie huffed, a slight hardness coming over his face, walls coming up. You frowned, not meaning to make him feel self conscious, just wanting to lightly tease him because you thought it was cute. “So what,” he grumbled, paying attention to tuning your guitar once again. 
You shook your head, smiling softly, trying to fight the embarrassment you felt at the mistake while wiping off clammy hands on your dark jeans. “No, it’s just… It’s…cute. Like, you don’t try to hide it, even though your clothes read like you’re trying to be big and scary, I guess?” You shrug, feeling nerves swirl in your stomach. “Sorry, that doesn’t make much sense. I didn’t mean it in a bad way.” 
Eddie softly glanced up from his tuning of your guitar, eyes no longer hard but now a soft expression before he glanced back down, messing with the pegs once again. “ S’okay,” He softly mumbled, his cheeks now a soft pink. 
You allowed your eyes to travel the apartment as he finished tuning the guitar, his humming providing a soft background to your silence. There was a TV on a dark wooden stand in the middle, and a big progress pride flag behind it. A coffee table sat in front of you and Eddie, on it a few card decks and it seemed like board games underneath. There was a corkboard on the wall by you, covered in polaroids and photographs of Eddie and some other people. Occasionally you spotted places you recognized from town. 
On the right side of the corkboard was a white dry erase board that seemed to work as a weekly calendar covered in doodles and two different types of handwriting. You could just barely make out some of the phrases, like ‘Band Rehearsal’ and ‘Basketball Practice’. Some of the board seemed to state what chores were done that week, explaining why the apartment was probably the neatest you’d seen in a while. 
“I think I got it,” Eddie stated, interrupting your light exploration of the apartment. 
“Awesome,” You nodded, grabbing the guitar from him as he stood, turning toward the hallway. 
“Gimme a sec,” He called over his shoulder. “I’ll be back with Guthrie.” 
You grinned, amused by the fact that he named his guitar, and after an old folk singer at that. 
Eddie came back into the room, sitting down with his guitar in his lap, smiling softly towards you. “Alright kid, let’s get crackin’...” 
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You had spent about an hour and a half just going over four chords. Your fingers were sore, your hands cramping. You sighed as you finished going over the G chord for the 20th time. Eddie was a much stricter teacher than you expected. He made you repeatedly go through the fingering over and over before even starting to strum, making you start over if you messed up. But it was paying off. You had ended the lesson by being able to go through four chords and barely mess up, only faltering a bit. 
You placed the guitar back in the case, sinking into the couch as Eddie chuckled and came back from the kitchen with a glass of water, handing it to you. You gladly took it, thanking him and taking a sip.
“You did good, Bug. Definite improvement from class,” He joked, flopping down on the couch next to you as you set down the drink. 
“Yeah, well, I had no idea my guitar was out of tune. Thanks for your help, by the way,” You smiled softly at him. 
You both sat for a minute in silence, unsure of what to say, when Eddie’s stomach growled loudly for what you swore felt like a whole minute, causing you both to burst out in fits of laughter, you falling over toward Eddie as he doubled over. His laughter was contagious and caused you to giggle even more, your sides becoming sore as your eyes filled with tears. Eventually, you two caught your breath and you sighed, smiling over at him. 
“Wanna go get some dinner? It’s on me.”
Taglist: @josephquinnsfreckles @corrodedcoffincumslut @kirisuteg0men
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actualmermaid · 2 years
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Hey Christians
I am once again getting reports that some of you are appropriating Jewish holidays and traditions, and 🌠 you should immediately stop doing that 🌠
Since I'm also a Christian, maybe you'll take this better from me. I usually see this behavior from people who are white, American, and/or Evangelical-adjacent, and I suspect that you're messing around with Jewish stuff because you feel alienated from your own cultural background, whatever that may be. You belong to what is essentially the big-box-store version of Christianity, and you're probably hungry for something that feels more "authentic." That's 100% understandable! But it is not a reason to appropriate traditions that belong to a community that has not shared them with you!
Luckily, there are some pretty easy ways to get acquainted with your own cultural heritage through traditional Christian observances.
Get acquainted with the traditional liturgical calendar. Our observances are structured around the solar year, and historically, these observances were tied to the patterns of agricultural labor. Religious festivals also had seasonal significance: the birth of Jesus coincides with the lengthening of days after the winter solstice, the resurrection of Jesus coincides with the rebirth of plants and animals in the spring, and so forth. The more you learn, the more you realize how much we've lost/forgotten!
If you know where your ancestors came from, you can research how folk-religious festivals are practiced in those parts of the world! What foods are eaten? What games are played? What stories are told? If there's a church associated with "your" cultural community, you might consider visiting them around important festivals and learning what they do. Remember, you are a student, and you should still approach these observances with respect and openness!
Here's a non-exhaustive list of things to try if you're feeling the temptation to appropriate a closed Jewish practice:
Instead of observing Rosh Hashanah because you're feeling left-out by the lack of major Christian holidays at this time of year, start looking forward to the feast day of St. Francis of Assisi (October 4). Here in the US, it's common for churches to hold a special "Blessing of the Animals" service or a "St. Francis the Peacemaker" service, often in cooperation with churches from other denominations! It's a lot of fun!
Instead of trying to host your own Passover seder (I have a horror story about this that I will refrain from sharing out of respect for my Jewish friends), just celebrate Easter like the rest of us! Easter, not Christmas, is the most important day in the Christian liturgical year. There are MANY ways to celebrate Easter in a more "traditional" way than you might be used to.
Celebrating Hanukkah as a Christian makes you look fucking stupid! Don't do it! Instead, if you want a multi-day traditional Christian observance, our things are the seasons of Advent and Christmastide! Again, depending on your cultural background, there are lots of ways to "practice Christianity" around this time. Fasting (similar to fasting during Lent) and lighting the candles on an Advent wreath are easy ways to start.
Don't try to observe Torah, that's not our thing! If you want to practice more "rules," consider trying out one of the many Christian fasting traditions (NOT the "Daniel Fast," which is basically a crash diet attached to some very bullshit theology), praying the Daily Office or using prayer beads, or wearing a head-covering in church. ("But I'm not Catholic," you might say, but if you do some research you'll discover that none of these things are unique to Catholics! You're not Jewish either, but that's not stopping you from messing around with their stuff!)
Before you come at me with excuses about this not being "biblical" or whatever, keep in mind that many Jewish observances are also not "biblical"! If you really want to try out a Jewish holiday, you should make a Jewish friend and let them invite you, but it's pretty hard to make Jewish friends if you're constantly trying to steal their shit! (The last 2000 years of Jewish-Christian relations are hard proof of this!)
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flowerandblood · 10 months
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Wicked prayers, sweet penances (6)
[modern! priest • Aemond x Strong • female]
[warnings: sex content, domination, religious guilt, incest, fluff]
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[description: Aemond, a deeply religious person, enters the seminary, wanting to fight the thoughts, that have been poisoning his mind for years at the sight of his niece. He returns home as a priest, but the desire he has been running away from returns to him again. A story full of incest, sexual tension and religious guilt.]
Previous and next parts: Masterlist
* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *
_____
After they confessed their love to each other, their case was already sealed. If either of them thought the other was seeing it as a fling and fun, their doubts were dispelled.
They faced a situation where every solution was bad. They decided that since they are doomed to suffer anyway, they prefer to suffer together and enjoy each other as much as possible.
For some inexplicable reason, this was a relief to Aemond. When he asked her honestly how she felt about everything that was going on between them, she told him that she was terrified, but at the same time she had never gotten up in the morning with such joy before in her life.
She told him, that she thought what she felt for him was worth whatever punishment she would receive. If at first she felt a little ashamed of her behavior, there was no trace of it now.
After that conversation, they started kissing again. Aemond didn't even pull his cock out of her, and after a few minutes he came inside her again, whispering in her ear that he couldn't live without her.
They realized that one mistake of theirs would cost them everything, so they were very careful not to meet in public. His niece did not approach him in church, even though his parish priest knew she was his family and often invited her for tea. She always refused.
Viserys's 70th birthday was approaching, which he organized at home, but grandly and with pomp. He invited his whole family. They both wondered how they should behave around the family. They wrote about it the evening before the event.
Persephone: Maybe it's best if we pretend you're still not talking to me? The sudden warming of the relationship can cause a lot of questions, and yet no one knows that we have been dating since my mother's wedding.
Aemond sighed softly as he stared at the screen of his phone, his back against the wall. He had to admit it sounded reasonable. He was afraid something in his eye would betray him.
He feared Aegon the most. At the wedding, he'd already noticed that he was watching her. He had to be very careful around him and refrain from any kind of glance in her direction.
Hades: You're right, that will be the best solution. Do you think we should say hello at the beginning?
He sent a message, and a moment later his phone showed that he had received a reply.
Persephone: I don't know. We can make it, so that I come to you and say hello, you answer me and we go our separate ways. That's probably the most natural thing to do. Will you stay home tomorrow for the night?
Aemond pursed his lips. He wondered what was on her mind.
Hades: I haven't thought about that yet. Maybe. And you?
Persephone: Me, Luke and Jace are definitely staying, because there won't be anyone to drive, while my mom and Daemon are drinking too. It's already arranged with grandpa.
Aemond had to admit that the idea of spending the night with her was tempting, but he feared they were putting themselves at risk. He thought hard, analyzing everything.
Hades: We'll see how it goes, my love.
***
The next day, Aemond arrived home in the afternoon before the party was scheduled, because his mother had asked him to bring a few things - wine, flowers and a cake ordered especially for the occasion. Even though he was nervous, he was also happy that he would be able to spend the whole day with his niece.
As he entered the house, he saw Jace greeting his mother. They just looked at each other, Jace said a quick "Hello", to which Aemond replied the same. He headed for the kitchen, to put the things Alicent had told him to bring. His mother followed him, thanking him for his sacrifice.
When he entered the room, he saw that his niece, Baela and Helaena, were standing at the counter, talking cheerfully about something. When they saw him, Beala and she fell silent, his sister looking at them uneasily. He tried to keep his usual cold expression, but he didn't seem to be able to hide the twinkle in his eye at the sight of her.
"Hi." She said with an uncertain smile, her gaze warm. Aemond was silent for a moment, looking away so as not to look at her.
"Children, when will you finally start talking to each other?" Alicent asked, looking from him to her, making them both give her a shocked look.
"After all, you were inseparable as children. Forgiveness is very important, Aemond, whatever happened between you two, you should know that." She said clearly impatient with their behavior, which had been going on for years.
His niece shifted uneasily at the counter, suppressing the smile that pushed across her face as she looked at him defiantly. He thought he'd gladly slap her ass for making those faces. He cleared his throat, unpacking the wine onto the counter.
"I know, mom." He said calmly.
"Please, clear it up in front of us. I want everyone to be happy at dinner, and no one to have any misunderstandings or arguments behind their backs." She said, folding her hands in front of her, looking at them expectantly.
Aemond pursed his lips, wondering what he should say, completely taken aback. He saw his niece staring at him in horror, wondering if he would be able to think of anything fast.
After all, he couldn't admit that he hadn't spoken to her all these years, because he had discovered that he had fallen in love with her. He thought for a long moment, but on the outside it looked like he couldn't articulate the thoughts, that were in his head.
"After the accident with Luke, I wanted to take it out on you, for what happened to me. For the fact that it was your brother's fault. I wanted you to choose me over him, and you didn't want to take sides." He said finally, his jaw clenched. He thought, surprised, that it was partly true. He loved her and felt betrayed.
He saw her blink, feeling that he hadn't completely lied. She pursed her lips, looking at him in pain, apparently not realizing until now that he felt that way. She swallowed loudly.
"I… had no idea what to do then. I was furious with Luke, I didn't speak to him, but he was crying so hard. He's my little brother. I couldn't leave him. Or you. But I understand your anger, and I'm sorry that I let you down in some way then." She spoke honestly, with a slightly trembling voice.
Everyone around them looked at them in surprise, wondering what to do next. They didn't know what to do either, they turned away, ashamed. From the side it looked surprisingly natural, as if such a confession left them at a loss as to what to do with themselves. Alicent squeezed her son's arm.
"I'm proud of you two. I hope you're both feeling a little better."
After this short exchange, slightly embarrassed, trying not to look at each other, they helped the rest to set up food and drink. There were two tables in the living room, joined together to form one long table. No one was assigned a seat, everyone could sit wherever they wanted.
Aemond decided to stay away from her as much as possible so as not to tempt himself or her. His niece sat down with Baela and Rhaena, they were chatting cheerfully about something, apparently something related to their University.
Everyone stood up and sang a loud "Happy Birthday" as Viserys entered the room. He already had trouble walking and was practically bald, but fortunately he was under the care of good doctors. He still had many years of life ahead of him, under the care of his devoted wife, who made sure he took his medication on time.
Jubilarian sat down in the middle of the table, next to him sat his wife. Everyone took their seats. The only person who was late was Aegon. Aemond saw his mother lean out, looking anxiously down the corridor.
Half an hour later, the door opened. Aegon entered the house, kicking off his boots, greeting loudly. Aemond squeezed his eye shut, hearing at once that he was drunk. He got up quickly and go out to meet him, to see what condition he was in. He staggered slightly, his eyes amused and misty. He smiled and stretched his arms out wide for a hug.
"Brother! I have returned as the Prodigal Son!" He called out and laughed.
Aemond stared at him in disgust. He prayed for him every day, but deep down he knew it would take a miracle for him to stop drinking. After a while their mother joined them, the voice of conversations from the living room could be heard in the background. She dropped her hands helplessly, shaking her head.
"Aegon. It's your father's birthday. You promised me!" She spoke softly, painfully, not wanting anyone to hear. Aegon shrugged.
"I feel good. I'm in a fantastic mood. I don't understand, where is the problem?" He asked, raising an eyebrow, wanting to enter the room, but his mother stopped him.
"Go upstairs, take a shower, take a quick nap and come downstairs. I'll tell your father you don't feel well." She said quickly. Aegon laughed.
"I said I felt great. Are you deaf or what?" He asked in frustration, yanking her hand away as he went to greet the guests. He congratulated his father loudly on his birthday and started hugging everyone in turn.
When it came time for his niece, he looked at her appreciatively as she stood up to hug him. He hugged her tightly and she laughed, saying it hurt.
"You look beautiful, niece! Are you talking to my stupid brother yet? He's been staring at you the whole wedding party. I think he wants you." He purred softly, but loud enough for everyone to hear.
Several people turned to face them, she and Aemond looked at each other in horror. They looked away quickly, red and humiliated. Alicent looked at her son enraged.
"Aegon! What kind of comment was that? What's wrong with you!" She asked, shaking her head.
"What? I know that in your eyes he is holy and I am divine punishment, mother. But the priest also has his needs, right?" He asked, clearly amused by the commotion he had created. Daemon watched him, he was stretched out in his chair.
"Careful now. One more word and we'll go to the kitchen and I'll cut your fucking tongue out." Her stepfather told him, looking at him calmly and menacingly at the same time. Aegon looked at him defiantly.
"He's been in the family for a few months now, and he thinks he's going to be in charge here. You're a guest in my house." He said pointing his finger at him.
"In my house." Viserys said, rising from his seat. "In my home, Aegon. Please, leave. I don't want to see you here tonight. Go to sleep in a brothel or some other place where you'd rather be, than with your family." He said tiredly.
Aegon pursed his lips, pale, furious.
"As you wish, father. I don't give a shit." He said, turning tensely, quickly putting on his shoes and leaving, closing the door with a loud slam.
Aemond felt his heart pounding hard. His mother was talking to him in a reassuring voice, but he was watching his niece, who was shaking all over, crying, Beala hugging her comfortingly. He sat down quickly in his seat, taking a sip of his wine.
He and she looked at each other quickly. He could see, that she was as scared and devastated just as he was. She sat down in her seat, still shivering slightly. He didn't know what was worse - that his brother said it out loud or that what he said was true.
Everyone returned to normal conversation, but the atmosphere was uneasy. Aemond watched as his niece got up, all pale, saying she was going to bed early.
She made her way up the stairs without giving him a single glance. He looked down, thoughtful. He stood up suddenly, his mother gave him a questioning look.
"I'll talk to her." He said calmly. She nodded understandingly and squeezed his arm.
Aemond climbed the stairs. He knew that she occupied the same room as when they were children, and she stayed with them during holidays and weekends. He knocked softly on her door.
There was no response, so he went inside. She jumped up, startled when she saw it was him. Her cheeks were still red from tears, she was crying again. He closed the door behind him, turning the key in the lock.
"What are you doing here?" She asked, scared.
He didn't answer, he just walked over and sat next to her on the bed. He pulled her to him, embracing her tightly. She immediately hugged him, pressing into him like a pillow, and cried into his chest. He stroked her head steadily, neither of them speaking for a long moment.
"You shouldn't be here." She said in a low, weak voice, sniffling. He kissed her hair tenderly at her words, pressing his nose into it.
"I told my mother I'd go talk to you." He said calmly, his thumb stroking her cheek. She looked up at him, their faces millimeters apart. His hand traced over her skin subtly and gently, making her shiver.
"Do you want to stop?" He asked softly, his voice trembling slightly. "Do you want to end it?"
She stared at him in horror, her mouth slightly parted, trembling. She sucked in a breath.
"And you?" She asked softly, her voice breaking slightly.
He looked at her in pain, not knowing what to say. His heart was constricting unpleasantly, he felt a stab in his chest. He had lied to her once before and hadn't seen her in years. He thought he was telling the truth this time.
"No." He said quietly, embarrassed and desperate for his attitude.
He moaned in pleasure, as her lips pressed against his in a greedy, desperate kiss. Their mouths caressed each other fast and hungry, with the wet, loud sound of their saliva.
He looked at her pleadingly, as he saw her quickly undo his pants. He couldn't say no, he needed it as much as she did. He helped her take off her panties.
She rose, straddling him and sat on him, pushed herself onto him slowly. They breathed into each other's mouths, their foreheads pressed together tightly, staring at each other helplessly.
She began to rise and fall on his cock, thrusting him into herself to the end, both of them gasped with delight, feeling this kind of closeness.
She started to move fast and aggressive on him, moaning softly, his hips responding brutally as they fucked, holding their faces together. They both panted quietly, trying not to make any loud noises.
"I love you." He whispered helplessly, looking at her beautiful face, red with tears. He knew it was all his fault. "I love you so much."
His niece kissed him deeply, passionately, squeezing his hair, pressing his face to hers.
"I love you too, uncle." She whispered into his mouth between loud, wet, dirty kisses. Her hips moved fast against him, his cock thrusted deep and hard into her, throbbing and swollen.
They flinched and stopped moving, when they heard someone come upstairs. After a second they heard a knock on the door. His niece wanted to get off him, but he wouldn't let her, holding her tight.
"Everything's all right?" Alicent asked in the hallway, obviously taken aback by the whole situation.
"Yes. We're talking." He said calmly, stroking her buttocks steadily. Her hazy eyes stared at him with horror and admiration at the same time. "Give us a moment."
"Yes... yes, of course." She said calmly. After a moment they heard her footsteps on the stairs.
It wasn't until they were sure she was gone, that Aemond turned her onto her back and began to fuck her with all his strenght, covering her mouth with his own hand.
They fucked like animals and their orgasm was animal too - hard and aggressive, flowing through their entire bodies. They stifled groans of pleasure, writhing beneath each other in fulfillment.
Aemond stared at her, panting softly. He knew that from now on, something would change between them.
"I want you for myself."
_____
Aemond Taglist:
(bold means I couldn't tag you)
@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @avgdusterfan @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @random-ocity @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @snh96 @malfoytargaryen @letmeloveyouuuu
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madseance · 10 months
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“Tried to scare you”: Producer “almost killed” picketing writers with SUV
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Today in Atlanta, producer Ian Woolf (BMF) allegedly tried to run over protesting writers with his SUV, as reported on Twitter by striking writer Brian Egeston (The Game, On a Wing and a Prayer), one of those nearly hit by the vehicle.
The full text of Brian Egeston's open letter to Woolf:
AN OPEN LETTER TO THE MAN WHO ALMOST KILLED ME ON THE WGA PICKET LINE TODAY. A thread… Dear Mr. Ian Woolf, Welcome to Atlanta. Years ago, forward thinkers and Civil Rights icons labeled our fair town, ‘the city too busy to hate’. What you did today on Hank Aaron Drive and blocks from the birthplace of Martin Luther King, Jr….was hateful. When you pointed your SUV at me as though it were a weapon and slammed the breaks within six feet of writers, I felt the hate and aggression of scenarios similar to Ahmaud Arbery, George Floyd and others who have been harmed at the hands of hate-filled oppressors. As I marched with the WGA in a peaceful protest, similar to the giants who have walked the very streets where you almost committed manslaughter, you chose to—in your own words— “Tried to scare you.” Mr. Woolf, this scare and intimidation tactic reeks of German Shepards, water hoses, bricks and burning flesh. It reeks of the worst kind of hate. A hate that continually divides us as a people. I would implore you, in hindsight, to consider the ramifications of killing an African-American man in the streets of the city too busy to hate, while being the producer of an African-American TV show, created by an African American man, run by an African-American Man. Mr. Woolf, your actions purveyed a deep generational hate for us. And that, sir, is a travesty for which you must be held accountable. If not by your superiors and peers, then by the people of Atlanta because the South will have something to say about what you did today. Should you choose to remain in our city, where I will remind you that you are a guest, I beg of you to lead with love and refrain from being a drum major for hate and potential manslaughter. I pray God’s grace and mercy over your life. Brian Egeston Writer
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maryhale1 · 3 months
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✨Hecate, guardian of crossroads divine,
In shadows and moonlight, your essence does shine.
Mistress of magic, with wisdom so deep,
Your presence in darkness, a secret to keep.
Triple-formed goddess, with keys to the gate,
A guide through transitions, both early and late.
Under the crescent moon's silvery gleam,
Your power unfolds, a mystical dream.
Hecate, torchbearer in the realm of the night,
Navigating mysteries, casting starlight.
In your grace, we find strength to face fear,
For you, Hecate, are eternally near.
Mistress of herbs, with cauldron and blade,
We honor your presence, never to fade.
Goddess of thresholds, we sing our refrain,
In your embrace, transformation we gain.
Hecate, we praise you, with reverence so true,
Goddess of magic, in shadows we grew.
To the crossroads, we offer our prayer,
In your eternal wisdom, always aware.✨
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crzyimp · 2 months
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New year, New you
Author note; Learned a lot while writing this story and tried to copy JTTW writing style here or there
No warning on this on, bit of angst, comfort, and humor. Long fic.
Enjoy!
The air was brisk, and the road covered in beautiful white, blanketing the landscape and mountains in snow. All was quiet expect for the sound of crunching; footsteps and hooves leaving marks on the path behind them. The four pilgrims and their white horse on their years’ long journey to the west, each special in their own right and memorable. All expect for one, the often forgotten white dragon horse.
Bailong, dragon prince and third son of the Dragon king of the west sea, huffs and puffs white clouds against the cold air. Keeping his golden eyes forward with the holy Tang Monk on his back. Another year is closing for a new to arise and yet the melancholy refuse to shake off like fleas or ticks. Instead, it burrows deep within and rise memories, one Bailong wishes to forget.
It will be the year of the dragon for the new year, one his family back in the western sea exclusively celebrated and no other zodiac. Sadly for Bailong, the rarely celebrated new years he always missed, his family never waited for him and even forgotten him among the festive celebration. This left him feeling hollow inside and with other emotions swimming within him. In the beginning, it was an overwhelming sadness that was drowning him, then resentment made way like an ocean wave in a storm, before settling in the sands of acceptance beneath waves, forgotten and never seen. He huffs again and shakes the thoughts away.
“Master, the path is becoming difficult. Let us stop at the nearest town and rest. At least until the roads are cleared.” A voice, like that of bells chimes during prayer, a familiar hand brushes against Bailong’s white furry neck. His eyes drift down to the fearsome thunder god, Pilgrim Sun, an infamous being with many names and titles, but best known as his elder brother, Sun Wukong. Sun Wukong study him carefully with his fiery eyes before smiling. “Besides, I think our young dragon horse might’ve fall under the weather.” Wukong tease deftly dodges a bite from Bailong sharp fangs, his laughter echoing in the mountains.
“Wukong,” a warm, but firm voice spoke up above Bailong. “I’ll take your advice, but refrain from teasing.” A delicate hand reaches out, the fingers comb through his fur. The owner of the hand can be no other than the holy Tang Monk. The one who started the journey to complete his quest. Tensions wash off of Bailong and briefly close his closing his eyes. The holy monk knew the best spots. “When is the closest village?” Sanzang asks.
“Yes, big brother! Use your nimbus to scout ahead.” Zhu Bajie pipe in, kicking up snow as he trudges up. Sha Wujing measly catch up behind Zhu Bajie, bits of frost covering the tips of his red beard. The pig and water demon turned disciples, each one with their own names and past, join the other three. “Little brother is freezing and see! His fiery beard is turning blue like his skin!”
“Do not worry about me my brothers, bits of frost nor snow won’t stop me in completing our quest.” Sha Wujing reply with a hum, keeping the rear and smiling gently to the others.
“You say that little brother, but old monkey can hear your teeth chattering from here.”
“Yes, and you’re losing your hue, my disciple.”
“Wukong, hurry up! Find a shelter soon or Sha Wujing will turn into an ice block!”
“Idiot, little brother would be more of an ice boulder than a block.” Wukong said, with more insults ready to throw at Zhu Bajie.
“Please stop bickering, you two! Sun Wukong, please go forth and look for everyone’s sakes.” Sanzang said, stopping them before they truly start.
“Of course, master.” Sun Wukong and Zhu Bajie said in union with heads bowing. Bailong huff at the usual display, a normal occurrence and always lively compare to his quiet palace home. His heart feels warm at the concern, even light-heartedly, at the youngest disciple. Even Wukong’s teasing at him as well, far different from his home.
He idly listens to the group’s conversation and suppresses a laugh when Sanzang offers some of his outwear to warm Sha Wujing up; only for the three disciples to dog pile on him with their own winter clothes and becoming a fabric lump with a tiger skin skirt on top. Bailong won’t complain about the added weight, all part of his atonement and added benefit. He watches as the eldest brother somersault onto his cloud and speed ahead. Nothing more than the spec in the sky in a matter of seconds.
Things soon return to the tranquil quiet as before, with sounds of foot and hooves crushing snow in the white landscape. The thoughts of his family far gone from Bailong’s mind, the group continues on with light snow fall until only an hour later Pilgrim Sun returns with news. Bailong didn’t pay no mind to it, only the important bit; the nearest village is only a few hours away and Pilgrim Sun already establish a lodging for them all. An empty home they can all stay for with food provided. He tune out Zhu Bajie as he starts the normal hungry complaints and the distance. Or when the two oldest brothers go at it again and Sanzang muffles a sigh under the pile. Sha Wujing smiles through his chattering teeth, always keeping up in the rear and never complaining. Together, the monk and his disciples travel to their destination, with the eldest leading the way.
True to Sun Wukong’s word, the party arrives just a few hours with a small home fit for a family of five. “I didn’t realize it was of the new years already. It’s nice of the locals to have our lodge decorated for the occasion.” Sha Wujing said, stepping towards to the door, using his transformation to shrink down to the size of an average man. “Though it’s a shame there isn’t any bamboo for us to burn, I always did enjoy hearing the crackles during this time of year.”
“Maybe there will be plenty of food then.” Zhu Bajie reply, rushing forward and doing the same as Sha Wujing, almost matching his height. “A nice hot meal will be nice to shake off the bitter cold! Better yet, a feast!” Zhu Bajie said with excitement, passing the youngest brother and first through the door into the house with Sha Wujing behind him.
Wukong quietly watches his two brothers before he leads Bailong to the stables with a now sleeping Tang monk softly snoring on top of him. “Little Bailong,..” Bailong always hated that, he’s not that young, “…come inside with Master and old monkey. It’s much too cold for you to be out here.” Speaking in a hush tone, Wukong grows into size enough to grab the bundles of fabrics that is his master. He carries the monk like a parent does with a sleeping child. Sanzang’s red nose was the only thing peeking out. Wukong chuckles as the dragon horse, the extra warm gone and now left his body shivering, “See, come with me and I’ll prepare tea for you and Master.” Titling his head to the side, he studies Bailong’s state; flakes and dull skin, even his eyes lost their shine. “Ah, even as a horse you still molt, old Sun shall draw you a bath. Let me bring Master into our lodging and I’ll come back for you.” Bailong bobs his head in reply, watching the two leave. The cold seeps into his bones and feels of constriction of his skin with an itch that won’t go away. A wooden beam stands only a few steps away from him with ever-growing temptation, soon the satisfaction of the coarse wood against his hide. He sighs, his thoughts of his family back at the forefront of his mind, along with hollowness. Perhaps this year they’ll send a letter or even wishes or gifts. Anything to remind him he’s still family. His ears perk at the distance sound of chatter coming from the house.
Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing stood in the kitchen discussing among themselves of tonight’s feast and the rooms they briefly explore. A main room where everyone can eat, one with a tub for washing, a kitchen, and two for sleeping or storage. The sound of a door opens and closes draws their attention. Peeking out, they see their oldest brother carrying their master. Their eyes on him as he disappears into the bathroom and shortly coming out, then in another room where the two store everyone’s luggage and out again. At this is when Sha Wujing spoke up. “Brother, the sleeping quarters are down the hall at the end.”
“Ha! Fool getting lost in a small home, is that the reason you bother everyone in heaven because you couldn’t find your way?” Zhu Bajie laughs, his belly shaking and wiping a tear. His laughter doubles and clutching his gut when Sun Wukong glares at him.
“Quiet Idiot! Are you trying to wake Master?” Sun Wukong whispers harshly with narrow fiery eyes, briefly glances at the sleeping monk. “And I see you haven’t gained more weight yet. Why don’t you make yourself useful and cook for us tonight.”
“I don’t know, perhaps you should, Mother Sun.” Zhu Bajie replies, grinning when Sha Wujing covers his mouth and looking away, his shoulders shaking.
“I guess you make a poor husband who can’t cook. Old monkey can see why your wife and in-laws wanted you gone.” Wukong smiles, smug when Idiot’s ears flaps and his face turn red like Sha Wujing beard. At this, the youngest brother couldn’t contain his joyful laughter, using the wooden beams to support himself.
“I’ll show you! I’ll make the finest dish that you’ll offer any daughters to marry me and honor me as your son-in-law!” Zhu Bajie declares and return to the kitchen. Wukong proudly watches and sees Idiot’s outstretch hand grabbing Sha Wujing. The youngest brother yelps when he’s yank in with barks of orders. Sun Wukong shakes his head with a smile, carrying the Tang Monk down the hall and gently laying him on the bed. Even tucking the monk before leaving.
“It’s amazing master slept through all that. Old monkey thought he’ll wake from Idiot’s blubbering and little brother’s laughing.” Walking back towards the kitchen, the sound of chopping and bickering reaching his ears. He steps closer and listens.
“Little brother! You’re chopping that wrong! Are you trying to feed rabbits like that? You’ll make a poor husband.”
“I don’t want to be a husband. I want to be a monk, big brother.” Sha Wujing mumbles, pricking his fingers for the third time.
“And you’re bleeding again! You want the master to break his vows? Go clean your wound again and tend to the fire.” the second brother ordered with his back turned.
“I see why your marriage failed.” the youngest brother mumbles
“Hmm!? What did you say?” Zhu Bajie whips his head at Sha Wujing’s direction.
“Nothing big brother! Must have been the wood crackling.” Sha Wujing reply sweetly.
Sun Wukong silently chuckles behind his hand, leaving his two brothers as the cold hits his golden fur. Chills burrow into his bones, the thick snow falling now and some landing on him. He admires the beauty of nature for only a moment before he trudges over to the stables. The sight of the youngest member of the group rubbing his side on the old wooden support beam, tilting dangerously. “Stop! Stop! Let Monkey help you before that beam collapses on us both…. I said, hold still!” Sun Wukong shouts, both hands on Bailong and a tail around the beam. He nods to himself, patting Bailong’s stomach. “Quite impatient today, young Bailong”
At this, Bailong shifts into a more humanoid appearance, with antler like horns and teal hair. His features resembles of that a boy on the cusp of adulthood. “Don’t call me that!” His voice cracks just like his skin.
“And moody too. Is it has becau-“
“That it’s the year of the dragon and my family hasn’t sent word or wishes. Treating me as if I don’t exist, as always.” Bailong turns his back to Wukong with arms crossed. His emotions swirl like a whirlpool inside, ready to burst.
“I thought it was the year of the monkey.” Wukong said, stepping closer to the young boy on the cusp of adulthood. Frowning at the poor condition he’s in from his molt and the sudden outburst.
“You say it’s the monkey’s year, every year.” Bailong said flatly as he spun back around, his eyes firmly on the spec of snow beneath him.
“Well, Idiot fell for it during the year of the pig, but I suppose it’s the dragon’s year, if you say so. As for your family…” Wukong reaches up to his ear, “…do you want Old Sun to pay them a vis-“
“No! I just….” Bailong when he interrupts a second time, but he continues. “…I just never spent new years with them, I just…” He sighs, his shoulders sagging. He was a dutiful son and never voiced or went against his family’s wishes until his mishap almost got him executed. If it wasn’t for this journey, he shivers at the thought. “I.. I just want to know that my family cares for me…” A part of him misses home, the luxury and the comforts. However, the other side of him loved seeing a world he’ll never get to see behind his watery palace or the people he met along the way. Did he truly misses his family or is he telling himself that? Familial loyalties can be the strongest and yet it was his father who sent him to the heavenly courts and his execution. Even in the years he travels with the monks, not once did his family reach out or seek him out. His eyes water as his thoughts swarm around him, intrusive and hostile, like the old and inhospitable world.
Until powerful arms wrap around him, protecting him and dashing his train of thought. Bailong buries his face against Wukong’s chest and staining his robes. Tears now flowing freely as he feels a hand rub against his back gently. No one exchanges words, and Bailong doesn’t mind or care as he quietly weeps. Only feeling Wukong lifting and carrying him like he did with the holy monk; the cold snow before the warmth of inside. His ears perking as the other brothers bickering and then laughing in the other room. Wukong carried him further into the home, the joyful sounds fading away.
A door opens and closes, the room far more humid compare to the main room and hallway. The moisture in the air doing wonders for his flaky skin. Bailong lifts his head from Wukong’s chest to see a bath ready with all the essentials. In the corner of his blurry vision, he spots what could only be a clone making final preparations and setting new clothes for after his bath.
Bailong didn’t have the chance to think more of where the clothes came from or if it was even his, when his feet dip into the steaming waters. His mind was blank and his body moved on its own. Quickly stripping away garments and diving into the waters. Splashing and spilling over, Wukong can be overheard grumbling about being wet and something else. It didn’t take long to feel the heat to soak into him and, like a weighted blanket, ease him into a peaceful sleep.
Sun Wukong watches all of this with annoyance and amusement, shaking the water off his fur and wringing his soggy robes. A plan forms in his mind as he glance at Bailong, closing his eyes and drifting off. Wukong sighs. He’ll have to leave the young man alone for his plan to work, but he wants to ensure that Bailong is up when dinner is ready or when Master is awake. He leaves and walks towards the kitchen, knowing the only ones still awake can help him.
“Little brother, how on earth or heaven did you survive on your own like this?” Bajie ask in astonishment, wrapping Wujing’s bleeding finger in cloth.
“I only know how to pickle and pickled anything that came to my river and eat when it was necessary. I’m not a cook like you,” Wujing said with his head hanging low.
“Please forgive your big brother. I got blinded by my attempt to prove to our eldest that you needed help.
Sha Wujing clasps Zhu Bajie’s shoulder and smiles. “Then please enlighten me on the ways of cooking, so that I can be an excellent monk.”
“You mean husband?” Zhu Bajie teasingly asked with a smile.
“No, I think he meant monk, Idiot.” Wukong said, standing in the doorway. Firey eyes wrinkling when the two jump and nearly hit each other. “I need to leave and gather supplies for tonight. Our dragon horse is dispirited- “he pauses as the two gasp and talk among themselves over poor Bailong. Wukong clears his throat and continues talking. “He’s soaking in the bathroom. Bring him out once dinner is ready. I’m-”
“Perhaps we should cook some of his favorites.” Bajie said, a hand under his chin with his eyes close.
“Maybe we can further decorate the home and I can gather bamboo. I remember seeing some on the way here.” Sha Wujing suggests. His eyes focus on the window.
“Brother, what do you think?” Zhu Bajie asks their eldest brother, “And the ugly bastard gone.” He grumbles at the empty spot Pilgrim Sun was in. Zhu Bajie asks their eldest brother, "Brother, what do you think? And the ugly bastard has disappeared." He grumbles at the empty spot Pilgrim Sun was in.
The two concluded on a plan without the eldest and went their separate ways, each completing tasks with intensity. Bajie cooked all meals the young dragon horse mentions over the years on the road. Add flavors and spices to Bailong’s personally loved. His mouth waters and his snout twitches as each of the dishes he set at the table, but he’ll abstain until he sees the delight on Bailong’s face. Bajie admires the handy work of Wujing’s decoration.
The villagers have set some up to make them as a welcome gift. One they were certainly grateful for, though Wujing took it further by writing scrolls and handing fabrics. Bajie’s ears twitch at the sound of the door and footsteps. He spots Wujing with bundles of bamboo under his arms and snow mix with his hair. “Once you set those down, please wake and retrieve our master and Bailong. I’ll set the final preparations and ensure everything is ready.” Bajie said, he watches as his little brother nods and disappears further into the house.
It doesn’t take long for Sha Wujing to return with tears in his eyes and something shrivels in his arms. Bajie feels his heart stop at the sight. “Zhu Bajie! Brother!” Wujing’s voice is loud as it echoes off the walls. Bajie rushes over to him. “It’s Bailong! He’s…he’s” Wujing wobbles, his body shaking and his breathing shallow. Bajie gasps, finally getting a better look before he, too, sob over what was once was Bailong. In Sha Wujing’s arms lies a husk, shell and translucent of Bailong’s body. Still warm and droplets dripping from his hands with tears landing on his frail body. Sha Wujing and Zhu Bajie collapses, each with arms wrap around the other.
“Why are you two crying? Did something happen?” Sun Wukong asks, his eyes searches for the source of the cause for his younger brothers’ sorrows.
“Brother! Bailong, he’s…he’s” Sha Wujing wiggle away from Zhu Bajie to show the eldest disciple of what has become Bailong.
“That’s what you two were crying about? Just toss it and wak-“
“How could you?!”
“You rotten ugly bastard!”
“Disciples, why all the shouting at this hour and right before supper?” All eyes whip towards Tripitaka, rubbing his eyes and holding hands with a yawning Bailong. Who’s skin and hair shine brightly against the lights, his features closer to that of a young man, but with a hint of boyishness still lingers.
The second and third disciples cried again, practically tackles the monk and dragon into a hug. Once free from two burly men’s hugs; Bailong explains he sheds his skin every few years. His shedding always landed on the New Year, the year of the dragon, to be exact. The sea cold waters made it grueling process overall. However, this time it was easier on Bailong’s body thanks to the hot bath Sun Wukong prep for him. Wukong’s chest puffed up and smug with such praise.
“You ape! Why didn’t you say anything before?! Sha Wujing and I wouldn’t have to bawl our eyes out if you told us!”
“I would’ve if you kept your mouth shut and allowed me to speak. Not old monkey’s fault you lack manners.” Sun Wukong said matter-of-factly.
“You!”
Tripitaka sighs as moves himself over to the table, Bailong joining him while Sha Wujing set the table and the dishes. Soon he joins the other two as they help themselves to the food and watch the daily entertainment of the two older disciples argue like a comedic skit during a play. A dinner and a show, an array of flavors and non stop snickering laughter as Sun Wukong and Zhu Bajie go at it. It took some time for both the disciples to tire themselves out before joining the others.
Bailong soon enough became the focus of attention from the other men. Zhu Bajie asking his thoughts on the dishes, many he recognizes as his favorites from his home, but more importantly from the travels with everyone. Each bite brings memories of the places they stop at and the stories it holds.
However, Bailong didn’t have the chance to answer the second disciple before the third was asking him about the decorations. His golden eyes wander the room, his cheeks puffy with food. The deep color of red littering the room with mixtures of yellow, none quite matching with the red. It’s nothing to compare to the one back at the western sea palace. However, despite that, everything felt warm to him, like when he was in the bath or when Tripitaka scooted over to allow him under the covers for a nap.
Finally, his eyes landing on the bamboo and his eyebrows raise, that was something his family definitely didn’t partake. He heard about burning bamboo to get it to crack and crackle. Even seen and heard it from a distance during the journey, but to partake in it? This was something he couldn’t contain his excitement, nearly bouncing in his chair and scarfing down the food.
“If you’re excited over burning bamboo, then Old Monkey has something even better.” Now this got everyone’s attention and eyes on Pilgrim Sun. Which leads to everyone with the same thought. Where did the oldest disciple run off to? “Old Monkey remembered an old acquaintance and pay them a visit. Kind enough to gift me a newly made invention! One that can light up the sky.”
“You mean you stole it.” Zhu Bajie said between bites, smugly when he sees the familiar frown etch on Sun Wukong’s face.
“No, Idiot, I did not steal it. I did a favor of exchange for it and it will make our new years a memorable one.”
“How long will we have to wait?” Bailong spoke up, hands on the table and leaning over. “Can we see it now? After dinner?” his voice was louder with a wide smile.
“After dinner.” Tripitaka announces, “After dinner and we’ll see what Pilgrim Sun brought.” Calmly declare with poise and elegance as he ate his food at a faster pace than he usually does. Although no one paid much mind as the rest soon clear off the rest of the dishes.
With much haste, everyone finishes dinner and rush out the door. Pushing the eldest disciple out first with unrestrained glee. “What happens to the men and who replaces them with children?” Sun Wukong laughs, making himself a little heavier. Let them work for it if only a little.
Outside in the brisk air, the group stands off by the entrance as Sun Wukong stands a respectful distance away with an object in his hand. A quick light and a good throw, the object soar high into the night air. With bated breath, everyone stares at the sky and waits.
“Nothing happ- “Bailong’s words die in his throat as the once darken sky soon turns into an explosion of colors with a thundering boom. He and the others feel it in their bones, but no one dare move as they watch vibrant colors spread across the sky before fading back into the darkness. This was nothing he could have imagined witnessing in all his life, nor does he ever wish to forget. Bailong spends the rest of the night among his fellow traveling companions, his family, celebrating the new years together. Until a heavenly official arrives about a noise complaint.
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blueicequeen19 · 2 years
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Hormones
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Warnings: jealousy, insecurity, pregnancy, fingering, dirty talk, power play, pregnancy hormones
I slam on the breaks, barely getting the truck in park before I'm racing across the grass to get to my stubborn woman as she struggles to get our mattress through the front door. I could see her struggling from a mile away. The moment we saw our baby on the monitor, I immediately put her in a glass box and no longer allowed her to do anything on her own. For that, she was entirely pissed off and determined to remain a strong, independent woman.
"Y/N! I swear to fucking god! You are the most stubborn woman I have ever met." I seethe as I help her get the mattress through the door and onto the porch. I go to stop pulling but she continues to sweat and attempts to pull it through the screen door.
"What are you doing? What's wrong with our mattress?" I demand, helping her with her determined task. She huffs, sweat on her brow as we drag it over to the burn pile.
"Y/N." She still ignores me as she goes back to the front porch and comes back with lighter fluid and a lighter.
"Please let it be a boy. I can't handle two of them." I look up to the sky with my sad attempt at prayer.
"Shut up." She finally says, spraying the mattress with the lighter fluid. I snatch the lighter before she can engulf the entire thing into flames.
"Step back, you little pyro." I demand and thankfully she listens. I light a piece of cardboard and toss it on the mattress, the whole thing erupting in flames. She takes another cautious step back as the heat hits our faces.
"Please tell me why we're sleeping on the pullout tonight?" I ask and she wipes away angry tears.
"I didn't like it." She snaps, wiping her tears away with a scowl.
"Since when?"
"Since all I could think about was you sharing it with other women."
"Baby," I reach for her but she swats my arms away, turning to go back inside.
Thankfully she can't see me roll my eyes before I charge after her and scoop her into my arms. Her jealousy over the women before her was adorable. She squeals but her arms are thrown around my neck as I take us inside. Hopefully we don't burn the damn place down.
"Put me down!" She shouts as I carry her over to the kitchen table. This has always been our favorite spot. I have to refrain from making comments anytime someone eats at it, because I also enjoy my favorite meal there too.
I sit her down and yank her to the edge as her dress bunches around her hips. I dip my head and rub my lips over her clothed pussy. Y/N immediately whimpers and drops her head down onto the table.
"This is cheating." She whines, tangling her hands in my hair as I continue to rub and tease while watching her grow more and more wet.
"Are you still angry?" I ask, prodding her clit with my tongue through the fabric. She bucks and I smile against her thighs.
"I can't help it. These hormones are no joke. I cried yesterday because we were out of cereal."
"First the cereal, then the mattress, next will be the house." I move my teasing to her thighs where her legs start to tremble.
"It's not funny!" She whines as I suck a hickey into her thigh. "It's going to get worse." She huffs.
Not wanting her to sink into her emotions again, I yank her panties to the side and suck her clit into my mouth, her arousal coating my chin. Y/N moans loudly, back arching off the table as I quickly add a finger to her pulsing entrance.
"Fuck!" She cries out, fisting my hair and grinding against my face.
"My poor pregnant woman. Only satisfied when I'm inside her." I quickly suck her clit into my mouth and she moans louder, trying to scoot up the table away from me but I pull her back. I pull her up towards me, my fingers still working inside her as I kiss her quivering lips.
"I hate that you've been with other women." Y/N whimpers, taking my bottom lip between her teeth.
"None of them were you. You're all that matters. I only see you." I couldn't deny that her jealousy was turning me the fuck on though. Even if it meant I had to buy a new mattress.
"Maybe you're just saying that because I'm pregnant." She scoffs, rolling her hips to meet every thrust of my fingers.
“Maybe I need to fuck your needy pussy until you forget about everything else.” I swirl my fingers inside her, curling them against that spongey sweet spot that has her eyes rolling back. “You feel that? You’re trying so desperately to cum. Your pussy is holding me in.” I run my tongue over her lips as she succumbs to the pleasure and not the images in her mind.
“M-maybe I need to fuck you s-so you know who you belong to.” Her words run together as she pants, trying to resist me as I use my free arm to hold her up. I halt my movements inside her, grinning against her lips.
“Then by all means, fuck me.”
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cliipsa · 2 months
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My Dearest Boothill,
As the hands of time have relentlessly marched on, carrying me through days that seem to stretch into eternity, my heart has been tethered to the memories of your warmth, your laughter, and the sweet cadence of your voice. In the vast expanse of these years, I have navigated the sea of life, but in every wave that crashed upon the shores of my existence, I found myself yearning for the solace of your presence.
The sunsets, once a vivid kaleidoscope of colors, now cast shadows that echo the emptiness within me. Each star in the night sky becomes a beacon of hope, a silent prayer that someday, the universe will conspire to reunite us. The moon, a faithful companion to my lonely nights, bears witness to the ache that resides deep within my soul—a yearning that only your return can assuage.
In the tapestry of time, the threads of our shared past are woven delicately, creating a masterpiece of moments that I hold dear. Your absence has left an indelible mark on the canvas of my heart, and though life has continued its relentless march, it is incomplete without the brushstrokes of your love.
In the quiet corners of my mind, I imagine the day when our paths will converge once more—when time and distance will surrender to the magnetic pull of our hearts. Until then, I remain suspended in the limbo of yearning, a captive of the echoes that reverberate through the corridors of my soul.
With each passing day, my love for you deepens, transcending the boundaries of time and space. The flame you ignited within me continues to burn, casting its warm glow even in the coldest of moments. Until the day our souls are reunited, my heart will echo with the refrain of a love that knows no distance—a love that persists through the ebb and flow of the years.
Yours Eternally,
Nya ‘Cliipsa’ L.
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silicacid · 4 months
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Church in Palestine decorates Christmas tree using debris due to Israel’s attack on Gaza
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A church in the occupied West Bank's historic city of Bethlehem prepared a decoration for this year's Christmas using debris instead of a Christmas tree in response to Israel's attacks on Gaza.
"While genocide is being committed against our people in Gaza, we cannot celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ this year in any way. We don't feel like celebrating.," the Evangelical Lutheran Christmas Church in Bethlehem's pastor Munzir Ishak told Anadolu.
While streets in the Christian world are brightly decorated and cities are illuminated during Christmas, churches in occupied Palestine refrain from extravagant festive activities, limiting Christmas celebrations to prayers and divine rituals.
Thus, instead of decorating a Christmas tree this year, the church opted for a decoration made from debris symbolizing the destruction in Gaza.
The decoration includes a mound made of concrete pieces around an olive sapling, and in the center of this mound, a toy baby is placed to evoke an infant trapped under debris.
Around this wreckage, broken tree branches, various icons, and candles are arranged.
Ishak said featuring the wreckage decoration instead of Christmas decorations in the church is a message for themselves and the world.
"Our message to ourselves is this: God is with us in this pain. Christ was born in solidarity with those in pain and suffering. God is with the oppressed," he said.
"Secondly, we wanted to tell churches worldwide: 'Unfortunately, Christmas in Palestine is like this.' Whether Christian or Muslim, this is the situation we are going through in Palestine. We are exposed to a genocide war targeting all Palestinians. Unfortunately, when we think of the birth of Baby Christ, we think of the babies brutally killed in Gaza," he added.
The Christian clergy highlighted that Israel's attack on Gaza has "killed the Christmas spirit."
Christians from around the world visit the city of Bethlehem at the end of December each year to celebrate Christmas, believing it to be the birthplace of Jesus.
Visitors to the city come to the Church of the Nativity, built over a cave believed to be where the Virgin Mary gave birth to Jesus Christ.
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lemccr · 2 months
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I wrote this originally to mourn my great grandmother, and realized I could adapt this for Bruce. So here, enjoy my suffering.
TEMPLE OF GLASSES, HEART OF STONE
Today I still feel like I’m stuck with one foot in the grave.
That when I lay down beside you to look up at space,
as snow drifts like glitter joining the stars in their night escapades.
I long for the things that can’t be replaced.
Like a moment with you, just seeing your face.
As tears force their way from my heart to my eyes,
a sound echoes in my ears of shattered window panes.
I can’t seem to climb out of the pit grief has made.
So I linger moments longer, with this epitaph for an anchor.
A stone at my back, the last sight of you, a solid gold plaque.
Laugh at the waste of this opulent thing,
that can never equate to what you meant to me.
So I stare and I wait as I watch the time pass,
This memorial to you, Fragile Temple of Glass.
As the wind howls over where I’ve laid,
As to Thamus it calls and to me it says:
“Proclaim to the world that Robin is Dead”
The wind has forgotten MY SON HAD A NAME.
Maybe I’ll get up tomorrow and won’t feel this way.
I’ll look to the night sky and not see your face.
But tonight I will wallow, I will sit in this pain.
This burden I carry, a dying embrace.
There’s a boy who comes round now with a smile on his face.
Tim says that he’s not here to try to replace.
But I see him fly over rooftops with similar ease
and I grimace in pain and fall to my knees.
The world doesn’t see how the time seems to slip
as I sit by your stone while the boy’s doing flips.
I think of those days with you, that I sorely miss.
At your Temple of Glass whispered words pass my lips.
So I wait for the sunrise to try to numb this dull ache.
Pray that this bird too Joker Death won’t take.
Because although you’re still gone, in the grave you remain
Robin’s still here, though he’s gained a new name.
And now that you’ve grown,
Miraculously made your way home
I still come to your temple of glass.
I pray for your safety, I pray that you laugh.
And though the mantle of Robin still seems quickly to pass
From one hand to the next as the years fly so fast
This temple remains, fragile memorial of glass.
A place to pray for their safety so you'd be the last
"Why?" they inquire, questioning its space,
This "good soldier" lingering in its grace.
Not to mourn a lost boy does this symbol maintain,
But instead, here, hope finds its steadfast domain.
This memorial, a testament to my past's refrain,
Once etched in failure, in sorrow's heavy chain.
Yet with time, it has grown, shaped by every prayer,
Molded by hopes, whispered in the stillness of air.
One day, I'll depart from this treacherous road,
From this hidden cave, my vigilant abode.
New stones will mark the places we nest,
Yet, in this temple's shade, my wishes rest.
I hope this place will outlast them all,
Witness the new Robins, and Batmen enthrall.
Safely return from each nocturnal flight,
In the moon's soft glow, continuing the fight.
To mark all the time and the changes of face.
Some things have been added And others replaced.
But one thing holds true in this this hallowed place,
No matter what happens ROBIN REMAINS,
Heroes will come, and heroes will go,
Someday they’ll find this place that I've grown.
Temple of Glass, As Fragile as HOPE.
This anchor of Mine, this place I call home.
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thenotsoholyspirit · 3 months
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Holding pt 3
(Here for part 1-2)
Matt murdock x reader (angst)
Summary: A little talk with the right man ends up revealing more than the necessary information.
(I pushed myself to give it more action and context, so forgive me if the timeline is not quite accurate for season 3. There's a lot of mention of catholic related topics too if you're not comfortable with that . Either way hope you enjoy it and thanks for all the support ❤️✨️)
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◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•◇•
It didn't take much time for the announcement of the release of the Kinpin to become all journals headlines.
As I go down my building heading for work, the first thing I notice are the newspapers laying downstairs the entry.
"FEDERAL COURT HEARS FISK APPEAL"
I stare dumbfounded.
Even if I have promised myself to keep my distance from Matt, I immediately feel the urge to go and find him as I'm more than aware of all the trouble this criminal has brought upon the devil of Hells kitchen and the place itself.
I look at my phone. It's almost six in the morning. I still have time before heading down the veterinary.
I'm unsure where to go first as he would surely no longer be at the Law Firm. Even my instinct to give Foggy a call is quickly refrained as I remember what he told me about our last talk.
What have you gotten yourself into this time, Matty.
Suddenly, I hear the usual resounding ring from the church's bells down the drive. From both corners of the sidewalk, I see small groups of people enter the place, the usual morning crowd.
How didn't I think about it before
Before I can lose more time, I run down the street, calling the closest taxi.
....
"As we say this, we bless ourselves three times by making a small cross on our-"
Clinton Church wouldn't exactly be the first place most people would go to if they were in the search of a devil dressed like a vigilante, yet as soon as I timidly open its door, the familiar incense smell and gothic columns reassure me that I've come to the right place. 
As I come in, I quickly go sit on one of the empty seats from the back. Father Lantom has already started the mass. 
I can not let myself but let a small smile leave my lips. It's been such a long time since I've last been here. 
While vaguely hearing the Father talk, memories of long ago lived moments fill through my mind. Small snippets of my old life.
“May almighty God bless you, the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.”  
I raise my head up when I hear the priest pronounce his final lines. This was it. 
Thankfully, not many people want to talk to him this morning, as most leave or simply stay in the right corner where the prayer candles softly illuminate the walls. I get lost for a moment, staring at the wavy shadows.
“Aren't they pretty... Some may take them as nothing else than silly good omens, but I'd rather see them as a representation of hope. People always need hope...."
I turn around, noticing Father Fantom looking at me curiously. I'm quite surprised he has noticed me. He invites me to sit down.
"I wasn't expecting to see you this morning miss (y/n), ” he chuckles slightly, "A bit late to mass although"
"I... I don't want to take too much of your time sir, but I need to know if you've well-," I try to smile, feeling quite vulnerable all out of the sudden "Seen or heard anything about Matt"
His face suddenly turns more serious, yet he barely looks surprised.
Is it this obvious
"That may depend on your own answer, miss.. I haven't seen you in quite a long time"
I nod, understanding his peak in curiosity.
"I know...." I look down the floor. "It's not like him and me are exactly on talking terms neither"
"(Y/n)... Matthew came here late last night searching for some answers , " he stares at the statue of Jesus placed beside the altar. "These are difficult times for him.. He needs some guidance..."
Father Lantom sighs softly as he shakes his head
"And some hope too....and I'm not just necessarily talking about his extracurricular activities...."
"I understand that." I nod sternly, knowing that something was different from his last visit. "But I'm not sure I'm in the best position to be of any help, neither ."
Im not sure why Im being so open with him, but I guess the serious yet caring tone of Father Lantom invites me to be more honest. I continue talking
"I'm not sure if I'm strong enough"
He gently gives me a tap on the shoulder.
"I'm not requesting you to forgive him (y/n)... that's an answer only your heart can give..." He tries to keep a reassuring tone, "I just worry of what he may push himself to do"
Suddenly, the silence of the church feels heavier. I rethink of the news. It just clicks in my head
"Don't tell me.... Don't tell me he wants to take care of Fisk on his own "
"He didn't mention-.."
But I interrumpt him, understanding now Matt's logic. His anger, his guilt.
I get it just.. just why
"No.. He can't .. he can not do that.... He.."
"This city is already dangerous as it is (y/n)." Father Lantom looks at me with worry. He seems to have understood my own intentions, too. "It's not the time to play even more precarious games right now"
But I can't. I need to stop him before it's too late.
I look at my phone again. It's already eight.
Guess I better call off sick
"I gotta go"
I immediately jump on my feet. I give a last look to Father Lantom and the candles.
If everything ends up all right, I may give a chance to one of those.
"(y/n)!"
I hear his call, but I decide to ignore him as I step outside. I cannot wait.
There was no time to lose.
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