#c; parish
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the Skull always gets so grouchy about Lockwood he is so jealous lmao
#lockwood & co#katie reads l&c#lockwood gets to be alive and he doesn't!!!#i have more in depth thoughts on this but i'm trying to motivate to go home to go to parish mission tonight
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Bad movie I have The Wedding Date 2005
#The Wedding Date#Debra Messing#Dermot Mulroney#Amy Adams#Jack Davenport#Sarah Parish#Jeremy Sheffield#Peter Egan#Holland Taylor#Jolyon James#C. Gerod Harris#Martin Barrett#Jay Simon#Ivana Horvat#Linda Dobell#Helen Lindsay#Lucy Bermingham#John Sackville#George Asprey#Alan Wills#Nick Miers#David Nobbs#Steve Hall#Dave Brown#Colin Staplehurst#Patrick Guihen#Michael McCarthy#Anthony Blackman#Adrian Walker#Ivan Johnson
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Dominic follow them.
right.
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The Imprimatur approved catechism text book also acts as an Activity book and summarizes the life of Jesus, from making the sign of the cross until his resurrection and meeting his disciples. Beautifully designed and liturgically carved, the book captures child's imaginations helping them better grasp their beliefs.
Order Online: https://www.livingfaith.in/catechism/catechism-book-std-1/
For details :9496062249
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Heathens (Pt. 1)
Priest! Miguel O'Hara x Nun!Reader
art by @maxro_art on IG (Her Deliverance AU is ❤️❤️🤌🏻)
WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. If you're sensitive regarding religion, please don't read this. Masturbation in holy places, explicit language, wet dreams, Female anatomy, oral ( F receiving) Gentle Dom Miguel, Corruption kink, overused tropes cause yeah, a tinge of yandere undertones if you squint, mutual lust, Not Proofread ~
Summary: Father O'Hara had a little lamb ~
A/N: Another for the Miguelverse ~ Reblogs and comments are much appreciated c:
Main Masterlist
From all the places you could've find solace from war, The house of God was the least of lieus in your list. Not that you had a choice.
Family long gone after unsuspected explosions decimated your town, followed by constant tragedies such as losing friends along the way either by enemy and merciless hands or sickness. In the end, it was only you. You had outlived them all despite your short age. And now, they lived crammed up in your memories.
Happy, smiling and very much alive. Sometimes you'd see familiar faces on stranger's bodies. Grief had slowly nested within your soul and when all hope seemed lost, the chapel had saved you from what surely would end up in your premature death.
The blackest of black matched the crispest white you had ever seen, they were all donned in their beatific robes, prayer beads dangling at every gentle step they did. And there it was, epiphany unfolding itself before your experienced in horror eyes. It was your call.
All the answers to your laments and aching heart were sent as them. Nuns of the Mistbourne Parish. A church located in the outskirts of a now rundown by conflict Nueva York. The church that now played a major role in taking in as much people within their sacred walls, before they could be dispatched to a more adequate place.
Without hesitation, you had joined. And now, six years later you still remained with them. Early twenties had settled right for you as a nun. Ever devoted, compassionate, and diligent.
As time went on, the main city was reconstructed, burying it's dark tragedy under freshly built towers, hiding the pain under the rugged carpet full of concrete and wire homes, like nothing ever happened. Like if war had never stepped upon it and gave it a much needed renewal at people's lives expenses.
But no matter how many changes time brought, life in Mistbourne's Parish remained the same. Untouched by the technological advances from the outer world. There was always something to do, as simple as it was. And so far, you've been satisfied with it.
The only alterations worth of mention was your holy family expanding.
A new couple additions to the staff. More sisters, an eighty percent of them were beyond fifty. You were the youngest, their child. After all some ended up raising you within the house.
And him. The new priest.
The tallest and bulkiest man you've ever seen. As much as staring was considered rude and borderline a sin, it was unavoidable to do so, when his rusty brown eyes fell upon you. Their color unique, like he was. Never in your life had you seen someone like him, or another man besides the butcher and the guard. He had definitely been a regular man before coming here.
The soft weary expression lines in his sharp countenance revealed his own fair of lived experiences.
He towered over you, crisp white dot on his black rimmed neck line, parading his status with modest pride, and golden praying beads dangling on his narrow hips, you held yours while asking forgiveness for keep staring.
"Father."
Father O'Hara. In his mid thirties, broken family also torn by war, wearing his vows in the shape of a ring on his right hand.
"Sister"
His voice deep yet gentle, like a lullaby. His steps took him away to his own residence. The rectory outside the church.
It made sense as to how some workers were renovating it in the past few weeks. The parish last priest had been sent off in sacred duties, only to realize later that he had killed a man. Cops and detectives surely made a show out of it.
Dark times, according to Sister Lianne, one of your mother figures. But now, Father O'Hara had taken his place, erasing all traces of the previous man with concise and pithy actions.
He took his role seriously. Said masses on sundays, visited the sick, baptized people; but his most popular feat was to hear the confessions. The most intimate secrets revealed to him by either your fellow sisters or people from the town that came to expiate their sins in hope to be forgiven.
You'd sometimes run into each other, bumping casually in the narrow wooden floored halls, you'd often apologize, only to reciprocate a polite smile on both ends. He'd sometimes help you out by carrying things a bit too heavy, or you'd help him out lighting up the altar for his speech.
Yet, his hands in one occasion took an accidental taste of your body dimensions underneath your beatific robes, while preventing you from falling down the stairs. He'd scold you for being careless and carrying things that obscured your sight.
After many sorries on your behalf, you returned to the cells and went straight to your own dorm, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
His hands felt burning upon remembering the dents of your form, the curve of your waist and certainly the warmth that irradiated from you, so so close from his.
Unexpectedly it had brought memories from his past. His old life where he'd have his lovely and temporary companion for the night impaled deliciously with himself before war and hell broke loose. Before he was forced by the subversives that raided his town to create a new fake identity in the spot as they heard him speak spanish or fight a war he hadn't started, much less would end. And so, his life as Father O'Hara begun.
Odd enough, the sudden and thoughtless choice had granted him peace after witnessing so many terrors his fellow human could be capable of. His need of help has always been stronger than anything and when he finished licencing some sacrifices were required.
Poverty vows weren't an issue since his previous life had been modest yet good enough to go by. Little difference between his current lifestyle.
The obedience vow took him a little longer to fully yield. But he accomplished it to a T, just to avoid more trouble. He faked it until he made it.
His chastity vow had been a quite the challenge to perfect, but no matter how much the temptations paraded before him in the many parishes he was assigned to, he didn't give in. His libido had been sapped out of his body, like a campfire after completing it's useful cycle.
Not because of his brand new sanctity invested by holier-than-thou elders, but rather a broken mind full of grievance and other negatives that always haunted him. The gunshots and bombings too fresh in his mind.
It had been years since he touched someone in a way that wasn't holy. Since he had provoked things in someone else that clearly would make him go under the laicization from the clergy without second guessings.
Until he held you the other day.
Both of your eyes too enraptured in eachother that had sent an igniting spark to his spine. Reviving all those inactive nerves he thought his existencial toll severed long ago. His eyes had gave a brief rake over your face.
Wide and round eyes staring back, both in awe and surprise straight into his soul. Nose flaring softly just like your mouth, whose bottom lip trembled at the little erratic breaths your lungs exhaled upon being in physical contact with a man for the first time in ever, while cheeks bloomed with a not so discreet flush. And your body heat.
Jesus all mighty.
It was dangerously tempting. For a brief moment his past self had taken over, but quickly vanished upon hearing steps. Earning you to fix your crucifix and cowl nervously and him to fist his hands to refrain himself to take another taste and fix his collar and cassock.
To his conclusion, the robes you wore did not match what was underneath. He noted much, but having you wear that loose habit only fuelled his now active and sinful imagination. An opposite from your habits' purpose.
Priest life was hard, and the Celibacy vows were his biggest damnation. Mind often plagued with 'I shouldn't have done this.' 'This is ridiculous' 'Fucking idiot' 'Why did I even lie about this?' But even so, priesthood was better than ending up dead or mutilated by mines somewhere in the battlefield, in the middle of a war he didn't started, much less would end.
Government later was forcibly recruiting all those men, be them widowed or married. It didn't matter. War wasn't for him. Neither Priesthood.
But he'd bear it. He'd bear it until he was put in another parish church full of older and witty ladies he'd definitely wouldn't lust after.
----
"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned."
The sweet voice behind the confessional punctured walls, perked up his ears. He had memorized a lot of things, your voice included.
"I... I haven't confessed in weeks. But it grows me concerned that... my mind is somewhere else."
Silence. You were met with silence as expected, it also encouraged you to keep talking.
"A man has flooded my thoughts and no matter how much I try to occupy myself, he's there. Leading me to temptation and sin."
A man?
His brow quirked as he slanted over the little wooden division between you, to hear better and take a peek on your face. The only men he could think of was the guard, the butcher and himself. The only men inhabiting the same area as you.
"How does this man tempts you?"
"He... He visits. In my dreams I mean and..."
A low 'forgive me, God' echoed in your stall. His throat dried and his hands rested on each side of his knees, gripping at the fabric of his pants.
"He does things I know I shouldn't partake in... But, it feels too real."
"You sound scared. Does it frightens you?"
"Very much so. But it is a strange sort of fear, Father."
"What kind of fear then?"
It took you a long pause to muster
"A fear of him stopping his visits in my mind."
He gulped.
Your hands took the crucifix and held it tighter, "For him to stop doing such sinful things to me, even in my dreams."
"Have you sinned in the carnal affairs?"
"N-No. I would never. I've never engaged in them, Father."
His groin twitched, as a hand raked over his scalp. A shaky breath that was forced to come out in silence. Only when he thought you couldn't be more innocent, there you were proving him wrong.
"Ever?"
"I promise to you with my life, I've never."
"I must know" He wetted his lips with his tongue, "What kind of things does this man does to you?"
"W-What?"
Your spine straightened up instantly, eyes wild, staring another hole into the already punctured division. Cinnamon color in his skin, the only brief glimpse you managed to see. But even so, his gentle yet cornering voice brought you down from your initial jump.
"I need to know, so I can dictate a penance."
The flush on your cheeks returned, burning bright upon remembering the all too lucid dream you've been having about your secret man. That, even though visited frequently, you still didn't know his face, just his body as it smothered yours wholy in a constant merciless and scorching rut.
All what you remembered was him feasting between your legs like a starved man. His hands maneuvering your soft mounds to then give a gentle squeeze.
"His hands are the ones that bring the sin, Father."
"Explain yourself"
His voice was sultry, buttery rich and smooth on the other side of the stall. A subtle order. To your dismay, that same demon had a similar voice tone. Alluring, speaking to you in a foreign language it had you mewling and asking for forgiveness every time you remembered, cause you had begged the faceless man for more.
"He touches and... t-tastes places I shouldn't allow no man to delve in." With a thick gulp you continued, "His tongue is... marvelous."
His eyes widened for a second as his hand hovered over his crotch
"Marvelous?"
"I feel the biggest sinner by admitting this. Please, do forgive me."
"Accountability is part of the process."
He tried to sound as professional as he could, but little did you know his mind was torturing his already crumbling resolve with such vivid details. Celibacy wasn't a problem, until now. Hearing such sinful words coming from such a unsuspecting thing like yourself, a virgin that is, made his old self to re-emerge.
Disguising himself as a sheep, while he fought through his holy learning years to tame his wolfish appetite.
There were plenty of ewes in the flock , but so far the only one that made his mouth water was you. A perfect little lamb. And now, this. We're you set to making him break his vows?
No. You weren't. He was reaching his limits to break celibacy and you were just having wet dreams about someone that definitely made him wonder about your past life. A past lover? No. Not even that. A possession? A demon? No. Definitely not.
He had heard things whenever on lunch duty. Mindless talk that revealed more to him from others and you than they intended to. You, a nun. Picked up from a ravaged village nearby and raised within the nuns, meaning, you had zero idea of what pleasure meant.
He believed, but wasn't a complete blinded idiot to faith. Your body was asking for physical and forbidden relief. Just like his.
But again, the golden band around his right hand not only forbid but also was the perpetual reminder of what was a stake.
"I know, Father. But... this man has such power over me that has pushed me to sin. He... he has pushed me to take such vulgar matters in my own hands."
Maker's mercy
His cock twitched harder and he was unable hold back and gave a firm squeeze while biting his lip to quiet himself at the long forgotten and heady pleasure that was drowning his body in an alarming rate.
As if done of being fed lies and a quick and sloppy handjob for ages. It was disgusting how easy was to sin, how well his body ached and reacted to such stimulus. How effortlessly his old habits had caught up to him.
He was the one that needed a penance now, cause he couldn't shake the image of you spread with your legs wide open, naked, sliding your fingers in between your weeping folds. You'd certainly have your mouth shut or lips bitten to avoid having anyone hear you.
He had closed his eyes while his jaw clenched, occasionally sweeping his tongue over his lips to keep them moist.
"Say it. Say your sin."
He commanded in a voice that had your cheeks flustered and your pearly nub a throb. His hand half squeezed half stroked over his clothed groin. Swollen and needy cock begging to be set free and properly taken care of.
"I..." A dry gulp and your hands went to your crotch, begging your nature to behave. Cheeks impossibly red.
"I've enjoyed touching myself after dreaming a man... f-fucks me, Father."
The word 'fuck' coming out your delicious looking yet pure lips, had his teeth gnawing at the insides of his cheek, self control harder to keep under the leash. It barked, howled even demanded for more explicit details.
Instead, he sighed quietly and cleared his throat. The sudden noise had you gripping the skirt of your habit in shame.
Miguel didn't say much besides the prayer of absolution and a couple of more prayers as your penance. The same right hand that was squeezing his cock was now being kissed by you, to confirm your forgiveness. Plump, warm and soft lips caressed his ring finger.
And once you were gone, his hand took control on its own, slid under his soutane to stroke himself. If you felt like a sinner, he was the devil himself.
The vice like grip in his own cock made him shudder, sensation foreign yet so welcoming after years without it. A little whine escaped past his gaping mouth, exhaling pecaminous breaths as he stroked like teenage boy that just discovered masturbation for the time ever. Sloppy, desperate and wet motions echoed in the now sullied stall.
He fisted his hand tighter, thick fingers coaxing a much needed release, hips rutting into his choking hand. Quiet whimpers and an array of curses flew out his mouth.
His flushed tip swayed and shook under his own rough ministrations while his jaw clenched, he clawed at the chair when hot and thick spurts of his cum dribbled down his hand and wrist before time; pooling in the hollow of his palm while earning a gutural growl that dissolved into a shaky whimper, as he curled against the wooden and punctured wall for a brief lapse of seconds to regain his composure.
"Fuck..." He had to lay against his chair to keep the light-headedness at bay, drowning in his own made pleasure, panting like he had run a marathon for hours.
He shouldn't have lied back ago. And definitely shouldn't have become a priest. He was soiling their already tainted reputation. His old self was back to stay.
He cleaned up his hand under his robes to then leave to change. He was given a glimpse as you were picking up some harvest in the orchard while he was making his way back home.
---
Window's glasses echoed with the soft rain. The parish has been quiet during weekdays, but busy for you. As winter approaches the harvest must be picked, the grains sorted and the meats stored.
You saw Father O'Hara less and less, and when you did, they were mere glimpses. He was as busy in meetings with other priests, or preparing for the mass that was now given twice a week.
If you weren't in the garden or the laundry, you were in the choir.
Lingering yet brief gazes chased each other. He had heard some nuns speaking about him, some had wonderful things to say, saying that he had been one of the most efficient priests the church has had.
Others mentioned between hushed and bashful whispers about his physical condition and how they caught him go for runs at crack of dawn a couple of times.
And you, just wanted to go to confession again and ask for forgiveness. Not to spill the advantures you had in your dreams with a man that oddly resembled like Father O'Hara, but to unleash your heart's desires to wonder what was beyond the parish.
It was your life, all you've ever known so far. But one of those trips to the city during a beneful visit to another location, had left you amazed. How could a world so different like yours could be considered bad and straying?
But again, vows. Your vows bound you, and once broken, there was no turning back. But right now all that mattered was to get to the dorms. The rest was out in another visit to the city, you were to stay to finish your tasks in the kitchen.
Weather changed so abruptly that one moment you were taking the last basket of vegetables inside, to then run for the dorms to seek refuge. But they were far and the only thing in sight was Father's O'Hara rectory.
It was either getting a terrible fever from the cold and unforgiving rain or ask him to lend you an umbrella to mitigate the glacial numbness spreading through your body. Another reason you barely went out during these days, rains in the countryside were merciless.
Miguel was tending his own garden when the rain begun drenching. Even more when the thunders broke the peaceful white noise. He removed his soutane and shirt off leaving his inner vestments free, but the desperate knock on his door made his undressing ritual to stop.
While quirking an eyebrow, he approached the door and opened it. Eyes widened in surprise upon seeing you, soaked through your bones. lips blue and shivering from the cold.
"P-Please-"
"Jesus. Come in."
He ushered you in, then rushed to get a towel. A frown in his face deepened upon hearing your teeth clatter, clothes stuck to you like a second skin.
"C-Can I... borrow your... u-umbrella?"
Without much though he smoothened the towel against your face, drying it.
"An umbrella? Really?!"
A vehement shake of your head, while trying to get him off you.
"You're freezing cold, the dorms are too far for you to leave. Don't be stubborn."
"I... I don't h-have clothes."
You mumbled through rattling teeth while your eyes darted hazily over his naked torso. He sighed.
"Unbelievable. You're freezing to death and you're worried about clothes. Get them off, I'll put them to dry."
He grumbled while taking more logs into the fire to what would be his living room. If it wasn't for the glacial and biting freeze that refused to leave your body and the foggy thinking in your brain, your cheeks would be beyond red. Crimson even from such simple act.
A weak nod you gave. Your hands stopped bracing your shivering body to focus on removing the cowl and headdress. Releasing through shaky motions your soaked hair that wasted no time to stick on your face and neck.
The next was your crucifix, and praying beads, the tempo you removed them could make a slug to easily win the race, this alarmed him greatly. He had seen what hypothermia did, way before turning himself into this holy persona.
Without much thought, he peeled off your habit that weighed you down.
"Qué mierda más pesada" (Such a heavy shit)
He held you by one arm as he removed the outer layer off. Your eyes drooped and he gave you a little shake.
"Hey, hey, look at me."
Eyes concerned raking over and it dawned on you. Those eyes, the same beautiful and unique eyes were the same that visited in your dreams.
A difficult gulp rolled down your throat as Miguel kept undressing you while grunting. Wet clothes were a pain in his beatific ass. Shivering dicreased, but your lips remained blue, a new shade of purple drawing over them.
"I-It's so cold" You mumbled through laborious breaths.
"Course it's cold. You're soaked! What were you even doing?"
The way he scolded you felt like someone you've known for years was giving you a lecture. So casual, homey, normal. It was Miguel O'Hara speaking, not Father Miguel. The ever gentle and patient man you've been helping.
"Jesús bendito, con cuánta cosa te vistes." (Holy Jesus, so many layers.)
He murmured while pushing you to his chest as he removed the dress that covered your underwear. It felt like a heatless body had been thrown over him, but the warmth irradiating from him felt heavenly. Your form instinctively nuzzled your head on his chest. He had to stop to gulp at the sensations
Even though his mind slapped itself, His couldn't help but wander over your shivering and weak body.
"W-Wait"
A small dark patch hovered above the joint of your legs. Taut peaks followed by lovely areoles ever standing and shivering under the flimsy white fabric of a short nightgown that proved even harder to remove since it clung to you like a second skin, refusing to abandon your body.
He peeled you off of everything despite your protests, but was sufficiently prude to not look over your naked form. A minute too slow and it would be late. Like the young boy in his arms, that had died out of cold once the subversive groups arrived in the forsaken town, they had forced him and the rest to go through a frozen river. He made it, but the boy didn't.
His mind wasn't in the tip of his cock.
That will come later.
But his brain had only one single purpose right now. To keep you alive but for that he needed keep you warm.
Despite the recklessness of his actions, he pulled a freshly folded duvet around while pulling you ontop of his chest and sat together near the fire. Hands moving to dry your hair as much as he could. Your skin was full of goosebumps, frosty to touch, that relished into any source of heat available. His torso, the duvet and the raging bonfire made your head spin.
It felt like his hands, rubbing some life back into your arms while he shielded your body, embracing your form with his torso and limbs. Like a paramedic on duty. Your cheek smooshed against his solid chest, it made him shudder with your own coldness but eventually the body heat treatment would be effective.
"Sorry" it was all you managed before your teeth shuddered again, and his fingers caressed your neck, placing a new wave of delicious heat on your skin.
"You'll be fine."
Your body was slowly but surely returning to it's temperature. Miguel remained there, basking you within his body, fingers gingerly caressing as much cold skin as he could under the duvet. Even his breath provided a little heat. Your erratic breaths collided against his skin, earning a discreet shudder from him.
You had drifted off to limbo, trying to sleep a bit, but unable to completely do so. Not when a man, the Parish Father nonetheless, was holding and nursing you back to an acceptable temperature with his own.
"Father O'Hara..."
Miguel's ears perked up upon you mentioning his name.
"It's Miguel."
He mumbled while drawing lazy circles on your lower back. The fire and the duvet had kept you toasty to curl even more towards him. Teeth no longer clattering.
"Thank you, Father."
"Stop."
His eyes rolled in annoyance, as his hands stopped caressing your skin to then rub his face.
"Stop calling me that."
"But that's your-"
"I don't like it."
He grumbled while looking down at you.
"Call me Miguel."
"I can't do that. Feels too disrespectful."
"I'm not Father O'Hara here, understood?"
You nodded
"Are you cold?"
"I am. Not as before but yes. Has it stopped raining?"
His own smell was making your mind a puddle, some of that fragrant incense remained etched on him.
"No. Just got worse."
You sighed while resting your head on his chest. Heartbeats a mellow lullaby.
"I'm sorry for all of this."
"You were cold and soaked." He pointed dully and bored.
The duvet was brought closer to your chest while staring at the flames. Fingers tracing a lazy and mindless pattern in his abdomen.
"I was picking up the last batch of harvest when rain poured on me."
Your toes curled in as a soft breeze flickered the fire and he tilted his head to watch you closer.
"Now I'll have to explain why there isn't enough corn."
"We'll go by. It's ok."
"Are my clothes ready yet?"
A snort that would be translated into an 'Are you kidding me?', your brow furrowed.
"You'd be lucky if they get dry during the night."
Another defeated sigh. But a sudden thought however made your cheeks burn faintly.
"D-Did you see me naked?"
"No."
Oh.
There was a silent pause before you spoke again. Curiosity tempting.
"Have you seen other women naked?"
He huffed playfully while pushing your hair away from your lovely and sweet face.
"Yes. I was a regular man before all of this."
His fingers curled up in his hand, morphing into a lazy fist
"Do you miss it?"
"Would be a liar to say if I don't."
"You... You've had sex before?"
He chuckled while with an open palm, took a taste of your skin, deliberately roaming your lower back. You shuddered.
"I did. Plenty of times."
Your audible gasp made his eyes droop hazily in a smirking grimace.
"I was told it felt marvelous."
You looked up at him and he pulled your chin upwards, he really had to keep his restrain under a leash to not take you here and there, instead, he cupped your face and hovered his lips over yours
"Do you want me to teach you, Sister?"
He was the demon. The very same one that visited in your dreams and left you a soaked mess. A little too late you'd noticed that he wasn't wearing his vow ring. It was placed somewhere else you truly couldn't care less at the moment.
You only nodded.
"Use your words, dear"
"Please", you gulped, "Teach me."
It was in that moment that he sealed your lips with his. Your first kiss ever. Chaste and sweet at the beginning that slowly turned into this obscene display of his mouth assaulting yours with his tongue in between gentle licks and bites of his lips.
A shaky whine then a whimper escaped your throat upon feeling his hands skimming down your spine. He only let you go when you tapped out for air.
"How often am I on your mind, pequeña?"
Finally the demon in your dreams had turned into a reality. Eyes were closed, unable to look at yourself melting under his touch. Nipples perked against his chest.
Plump and hot lips caressed yours but they stopped. Hands pulled you upwards, Miguel turned you around so your back was now colliding with his chest.
"You're still cold."
Cheeks grew impossibly red while he slowly peeled off the duvet out of your body, leaving you bare before him. You gulped as he moved your hair to a side and slowly kissed up and down your neck.
His hands were unable to resist any more and cupped your mounds, like in your dream. Calloused palms, rough against soft breast.
"Qué maravilla. Is this how your dream goes?
Legs smothered together, a little strip of hair etched to your pubic mount. He hummed in appreciation to then part your legs above his. Cunt pulsing at the coolness of air brushing past it.
Both of your legs dangled ontop of his as you remained nested above. Your heart beat at the playful moves his middle and index finger pulled on your nipple as his free hand darted over the joint of your inner thighs. You could feel him trembling underneath, the restrain made his breath hitch.
Your own turned erratic once more as he slid three fingers in between your folds. A shy Ah escaped your lips while he used two of them to part the outer labia
"Look at that, little one. Is that what you touch when thinking of me?"
Drunk eyes darted between your legs and his skillful hand, the engorged and pearly clit peeked out as one of his fingers flickered slowly. Focusing the right amount of pressure in it that had your moans shaky. He paused to adjust his fingers as they caressed and rubbed as much flesh as they could.
Mouth etched to your ear. Deep and needy breaths fanned behind you
"So so pretty. Look at that"
He made a show of his fingers coating themselves in your slick. One of his digits hovered over your entrance, slowly it disappeared inside. A muffled groan echoed in the void space
A wet and shlicking sound came from his ministrations, head unable to move, too enraptured into watching him sliding in and out. Skin bloomed with a new wave of goosebumps as his tongue licked your neck and earlobe, rewarding you for taking one finger deliciously, that he licked up clean before going back to rub at your clit.
"Want to add another?"
A breathless and hissing yes.
You didn't know who was with you right now since Father O'Hara couldn't. Your brain still refused to believe they were the same man. One preached and talked mass every Sunday, the other had your head spinning while his fingers explored your insides with such gentleness it only increased your whimpers and need for something more and bigger within you.
"Does that feel good, Hm?"
A dumb nod while more escaped your mouth repeatedly
"More?"
"Please!"
How could he deny to such petition? Even most when you were gripping him so deliciously and pulsating with every stroke he delivered in, grazing at your sweetest spot.
"Like this?"
He increased the tempo and your breath hitched, hips moving to meet his fingers aiding them to reach deeper and deeper.
Breaths turned into short and shallow pants, blood rushed to your cheeks. One of his digits pushed past between your lips meeting your moist muscle that wasted no time into kissing it. All you could hear was yourself and your weeping pussy that demanded for more.
But they weren't enough. Brain was sent into an override when the climax washed over you. All the pent up need and lust drowned you. Strong pulsations dictated the contractions that trapped and milked Miguel's fingers. Mind split in two in a shattering and core shaking spasm.
Mouth gaped, eyes heady and drunk with blind hot pleasure, body convulsed while an array of mumbles and clumsy curses flew out of your mouth to finally end with a delicious quivering cry.
"It's okay, shh, it's okay, pequeña." He cooed you through it while kissing your neck. Heart pounding in your ears.
It took you a moment to breath properly. How could you have missed this? How could you remain so ignorant to this? Alienated from something you were often told it was dirty and condemning.
He had only touched in the right places and you were melting. But why stopping there? You knew he also wanted you, his hard on pressing over your lower back, begging to set free.
"M-More"
He shook his head with a proud smile
"Can't do that, preciosa"
A capricious whine came through your throat, "Why not?"
"Cause, as much as I'd love to take you until you recite the bible backwards to me, you know what could happen."
"You don't want me, then? Why stopping now?"
"Far from that. And we must be discreet. Wouldn't want you to be whipped by Sister Lianne."
He took your hand and kissed your wrist. While his other limb pulled you closer to him.
"I am the only one that shall leave marks on you, my dear. Is that clear?"
"Yes, but-" He took your chin in a gentle but firm grip.
"Is that clear?"
You nodded with a pout.
"Lay on the bed."
"What? "
"Lay on the bed, so I can taste you."
Miguel could fulfil that fantasy. With Bambi-like steps you pushed yourself up and walked over his bed. Plush surface welcomed your body under a creak.
"Spread them."
Toes curled up for a second before spreading them open. Clit already tingling with a foreign yet needy sensation.
He kneeled before you, like he did every day he worshipped the Lord. But this time it wasn't God, but you. Nose nuzzled over your inner thighs while taking a whiff of your scent. Tantalizing and so alluring for his own senses.
Slow and deliberate kisses were placed above your flesh, the strip of hair that decored your pussy, to finally sink in between soaked folds.
The mewl you gave only made him feast upon you. Hands grope the sheets by instinct as he spreaded you further.
His tongue lapped and curled at your hole, slurping it without refrain and inhibitions. Devouring it like it would be his last meal.
Your dream had felt too vivid, yes, but this was completely different. This was in a whole new different level. His corruption had tainted your soul and it was gladly welcomed into your arms.
Legs twitched and shook while your head was thrown back, chest heaved with shallow breaths, unable to breath properly as his tongue was set into fucking your drooling hole.
The way his tongue fucked, dribbled and guzzled your cunt had you mewling and moaning the filthiest things you didn't think possible you could get out.
Good was an understatement, heavenly was a measly word to compare what you felt like. It was maddening and he gave you no rest.
Have you ascended? No. He just wrapped your supple thighs around his head, preventing you from squirming too much, holding your hips in place as his sloshing and assailant mouth gave you no rest.
You hadn't recovered completely from the other orgasm when a new one had approached. Lurking around your senses.
His name was moaned, over and over and when your hands were done of clinging onto the sheets, you held onto his hair. Silky and smooth chocolate locks slid under your fingers.
Eyes peeked over you, and he had to pause for a moment to squeeze his cock. Aching and weeping for him to let him free and make you his. But that would come later.
That would come much later when he had more leisure time and when he'd get protection. As much as he wanted to wreck your snug cunt, he didn't want you to be whipped and shamed like another nun was when the higher ups found out she was pregnant by an outsider.
"Miguel"
His name on your lips rich and tasty, like him.
Your voice snapped him out of his trance to immediately go for your clit. Plump lips pursed and captured the engorged nub. While his hands pushed your legs up and folded them, giving a complete access to your pulsating pussy.
He slurped and souped while his tongue teased. Wet laps sent jolts through your spine each time he tasted you.
Too much. Too good and too soon, yet he didn't stop. He shook his head like a mad dog subduing it's prey and that move alone had you gushing over his mouth. He quickly gobbled it all down.
You whined, cried and blabbled, even tried to pull his head away but he delivered you a last stroke with his tongue to then lick his lips clean.
"Please"
You mumbled through blown breaths as he watched you with a lust blown glare.
What had he done out of you?
"Greed is a sin, my dear."
What had he created?
"But if you're good enough, the wait will be worth it."
His little lamb was so willing for him, aching to be tainted, corrupted even more. And his task was to banish such whims.
He'd given you a taste of what laid ahead. A promise of a much unholy reward if you followed this path with him. But your resolve had been made the first time you came.
He'd be your first and last. There wasn't any need for another to teach you what he was compliant to demonstrate.
You'd be his to fuck. His to tame and corrupt.
You'd be his.
---
Taglist:
@plumplumpurin
#miguel o'hara#t writes✨#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x you#atsv miguel#miguel o hara#miguel ohara smut#priest miguel#Miguelverse#spiderman 2099 masterlist#spiderman 2099 smut#priest au#afab reader#Miguel O'Hara x AFAB Reader
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This home looks like a country cottage, so I was not prepared for the interior. It was built in 1830 in Charlotte Parish, Prince Edward Island, Canada. 4bds, 3ba, C$649K.
The entrance door is black with gold accents and it's not the typical country house door.
I didn't expect to be greeted by a mannequin.
The hall is typically Victorian, but the decor is so interesting.
Great antique organ. I expect that the keyboard comes down- how can you play it like that?
Guest powder room.
Wow, look at the sitting room. Looks like it's sunken- there are 2 steps on the right.
I like the dining room. It's incredibly elegant.
The kitchen is industrial style.
Probably the primary bedroom. I like the fireplace and stick walls.
Very cozy bedroom. This home was carefully and lovingly decorated. I always wonder what makes people sell homes that were obviously loved.
This room has a half bath.
Here's a lovely elegant bedroom.
It's empty, but this room could be anything.
Love the fireplace in here.
The full bath looks like it could use some updating.
The shower looks new, though.
There's potential above the garage.
A pretty, small country church is next door and the new owner of the house will also share and enjoy its cemetery.
The house is on a .51 acre lot.
https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/14173-Saint-Peters-Rd-Charlotte-Parish-PE-C1C-0N6/349631687_zpid/?
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https://www.tumblr.com/thefrsers/727642239173525504/samcait-watching
Did you write something about their moment 😍🫠with Josh?
Dear Moment with Josh Anon,
Once again, I do apologize for the very, very late answer. As Relocation Week-end is now within reasonable sight, days are shorter and you do find yourself caught in a thousand little idiotic details. Car insurance, doggie shots for Bebe, car check-up, bank, boxes and the whole Marie Kondo tidy geisha circus - you'd be surprised to find out how many things don't spark joy anymore and will be donated to the local Catholic parish, for example. All this hullaballoo will somewhat slow my presence here: not to oblivion (they'd wish!), just a tad & I am already sorry - but (as JAMMF once said) I must.
But we're here for S&C and this is what you should read about in this answer, Anon.
Here is a relevant clip of last summer's Happy Sad Confused Special, I found online, just to make sure we are on the same page:
youtube
Anyways. Even if I am not Horowitz's most devoted groupie, I must admit the guy knows perfectly well how to navigate the S&C Narrative River and even its Dissimulation Straits, without ever pushing things up to the Point of No Return. He definitely knows things and if anyone still imagines by now all these 'impromptu' interviews are not at least discussed before the event, well...
In a nutshell, there are - as a rule of thumb - very few spontaneous things about interviews, lately. But then, you can also have unexpected gems like the one above, because it is my belief that this has not been rehearsed or discussed before: their reactions are genuine.
I know many people have talked about it before, so I am not sure what I could add to what was already said, except perhaps a couple of cursory observations.
When she is moved, her Irish accent comes back with a vengeance and then she gradually returns to 'normal' as she relaxes back. But that, to me was a giveaway of how surprised and moved she was to see that reel.
When he is moved, he immediately blurts something cheeky and (often, but not here) borderline inappropriate. 'Actually it's interesting seeing that, like, how physical we were and we just met' (01:50). These, I believe, are coping mechanisms. And yes, I am aware that some believe they met before or that he knew at least something about her. I respectfully disagree: I think what we saw that day, at that chemistry test, were two actors desperate to get a much-needed part and giving their best for it. But, unlike the cynical and corny know-it all out there, I also think we witnessed two human beings who also happened to fall in love at first sight. And that, Anon, is something extraordinary and very rare to experiment, let alone to watch.
And this is something that they both know: how could you ever forget that happening to you? And yes, they are very guarded (he, more than her) but if you watch closely enough (and manage not to feel like a filthy voyeur), you'll understand there is more than meets the eye about These Two.
Once again, I am sorry for the delay. This should serve me well as a lesson in leaving the cheap drama behind and focus on what is important.
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Joseph “Uncle Joe” Clovese was the last known surviving African soldier of the Union Army in the American Civil War, and lived in Pontiac at the time of his death in 1951. Clovese, who lived to be 107 years old, was born into slavery on a plantation in St. Bernard Parish, Louisiana, and escaped slavery in his teens to join the Union Army during the Siege of Vicksburg. He stayed with the Northern Army, first as a drummer, later as an infantryman. He was a private in Co. "C", 63rd Colored Infantry Regiment.
Following the war he worked on Mississippi river steamboats, and he later worked on the crew stringing the first telegraph wires between New Orleans and Biloxi, Mississippi. At the age of 104, Clovese moved from Louisiana to Pontiac, Michigan to be near family. Once the community learned about “Uncle Joe,” the citizens of Pontiac embraced him. Large gatherings were organized for his 105th, 106th and 107th birthdays on January 30th.
For his funeral, more than 300 people were packed into Newman A.M.E. Church in Pontiac (their former location, in downtown) for the service. Hundreds more gathered at the gravesite in Pontiac’s Perry Mount Park Cemetery. Veterans from the Oakland County Council of Veterans served as pall bearers. A firing party from Selfridge Air Force Base fired the final salute and taps was sounded over the cemetery. Pontiac even named a road in his honor, that ran through the Lakeside Homes complex.
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Hihihihi, so important update as to why I have vanished. I was diagnosed with a genetic condition that affects my muscles and means I'm losing my fine motor skills, skills like typing and writing, so this is taking so much effort to actually do as it's getting worse. I'm okay. I'm going to keep writing, but it's going to be at my own pace so I can mitigate the effects.
Content Warnings: Non-con to Dub-con, Priest Fyodor, Religious themes, Dom Reader, Sub Fyodor, Drowning, Degradation, Hair pulling. Tell me if I missed something.
Fyodors head was pushed down under the water, his robes flipped up over his ass and pushed up his back, exposing his pale skin and malnourished body. You held his hair in a death grip under holy water, water he himself had blessed.
He was struggling to escape your grip, not really afraid but more angry. He was too weak to fight you off physically. He trembles as he tries to flee. Your cock pistoning into his tight hole. He manages to push himself out of the water, making you laugh as he struggles to hold himself up on the slippery marble lip of the font. After taking his skinny wrists in one hand and then shoving his head under the water again with the other you shift him so his toes are the only part of him touching the floor and then go back to brutally fucking him. He's left writhing and the fear kicks in as his lungs scream in pain at the lack of air. The way you fuck him like you hate him makes him want to cum but he can't he needs more, after all you're fucking him like hes a toy with no care for his own satisfaction.
When you shift to finally abuse his prostate, his body trembles, going weak he no longer tries to fight back, too lost in fear and pleasure. He's struggling to stay conscious with the lack of air. When you pull his head up above the water so he can breathe, he takes in gasping breaths, moans interspersed alongside them. "Think you can keep quiet, Father?" You ask cruelly. "Imagine what your parish would do if they knew you weren't just a sinner but a common whore." Before he can argue and fight back you push his head under the water again his head pressed against the bottom of the marble basin as his body weakly twitches. You pet the back of his neck with your thumb as you pull harder on his pretty black hair. Fucking him against the font with only your pleasure in mind. Once you cum deep inside him you let him fall to the floor in a heap and start putting yourself back together.
Father Fyodor weakly crawls over to you, drenched in water and trembling. His eyes wide as he throws away his pride. "Please- c-can I..." You cut him off with a laugh "aww did my holy fuck toy not get to cum? How sad. Tell you what, you can use my boot but that's all you get." There's a look of hesitation in his eyes as you lean back against a pew offering him your boot.
He crawls forward and positions himself so he can grind against your leg like a mutt. He hides his face in shame against your thigh before you yank his head back by his hair "Look at me when I'm being so generous to you Father." Fyodor looks up at you weakly his hips stuttering as he grinds faster trying to get it over with. "You should thank me." Fyodor closes his eyes before forcing out a garbled "Thank you" He then pauses and looks at you before whimpering "Need... more." You smirk and wrap a hand around his throat. "You need to feel like your dying is that right slut? Don't worry I can do that for you." Fyodor's body tenses as he cums on your boot his eyes rolling back in his head. "Father~" you sing, bringing him back to the present. "You made quite a mess. Why don't you make your God proud and clean it up." You say smiling sadisticlly "Though I hardly think we should waste it." Fyodors eyes widen at the implications but leans down and kitten licks at the cum covering your shoe.
Once it's clean, you lift your boot and press it against his head, pressing his head to the floor. "I can't help but think you need a less... absent God. You need one to keep you on a short leash and put you to use. I think I could be that God. We could trade your clerical collar out for a nice locked collar with a leash. What do you think?" You ask the priest idly, knowing he's so lost in the after shocks of pleasure and pain that he'll agree to anything.
#sub fyodor#bottom fyodor#bsd fyodor#bungou stray dogs fyodor#fyodor dostoyevsky bsd#fyodor x reader#fyodor dostoyevsky x reader#cw religious themes
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Joseph “Uncle Joe” Clovese was the last known surviving Black soldier of the Union Army in the American Civil War, and lived in Pontiac at the time of his death in 1951. Clovese, who lived to be 107 years old, was born into slavery on a plantation in St. Bernard Parish, Louisiana, and escaped slavery in his teens to join the Union Army during the Siege of Vicksburg. He stayed with the Northern Army, first as a drummer, later as an infantryman. He was a private in Co. "C", 63rd Colored Infantry Regiment.
Following the war he worked on Mississippi river steamboats, and he later worked on the crew stringing the first telegraph wires between New Orleans and Biloxi, Mississippi. At the age of 104, Clovese moved from Louisiana to Pontiac, Michigan to be near family. Once the community learned about “Uncle Joe,” the citizens of Pontiac embraced him. Large gatherings were organized for his 105th, 106th and 107th birthdays on January 30th.
For his funeral, more than 300 people were packed into Newman A.M.E. Church in Pontiac (their former location, in downtown) for the service. Hundreds more gathered at the gravesite in Pontiac’s Perry Mount Park Cemetery. Veterans from the Oakland County Council of Veterans served as pall bearers. A firing party from Selfridge Air Force Base fired the final salute and taps was sounded over the cemetery. Pontiac even named a road in his honor, that ran through the Lakeside Homes complex.
Source: African Archives
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The Dodo and the Solitaire | A Natural History, by Jolyon C. Parish. Indiana University Press, 2013. 406 pages.
If you’re looking for a book about the Dodo (and Solitaire), this is the book. It’s big, and absolutely packed with information, including a comprehensive collection of primary and secondary accounts of the lost birds, and in-depth investigation of skeleton, tissue, and feather specimens. My favorite part is the analysis of visual accounts of the Dodo (I’m biased, there, as an artist), including 16 pages of full color illustrations. All of this evidence is presented in an objective manner, in acknowledgment of the ambiguity that will always surround these species, but still managing to build a convincing picture of what they may have been like. The book is very much a scholarly work, not exactly light reading—but an indispensable source for studying the Dodo and Solitaire.
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Peter it’s your call. - Charles
Come on, Pete~ You could-
NO. I said NO.
...what?
Are you deaf? NO. I'm not letting you get an INCH near my sister. Stay the FUCK away from her.
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Photos of 16th-17th century Irish clothing
Extant garments in the National Museum of Ireland
Notes: The garments in this post are all bog finds which means their current color may not be their original color. Although some of these items were found with human remains, no photos of human remains are included in this post.
Killery Cóta Mór (great coat) and brogues:
photos by hayling billy used under non-commercial, share alike license
The Killery outfit comes from an adult male bog body found in Killerry parish, Co. Sligo in 1824. It includes a cóta mór, triús, a brat, and shoes which are on display in the museum, and a sheepskin biorraid (conical hat) which fell apart shortly after it was found (Briggs and Turner 1986).
Killery triús (trews):
photo by hayling billy
Killery outfit with and without brat:
The outfit is generally dated to the 17th c. (Dunlevy 1989). It matches Luke Gernon's 1620 description of Irish men's winter apparel:
"in winter he weares a frise cote. The trowse is along stocke of frise, close to his thighes, and drawne on almost to his waste, but very scant, and the pryde of it is, to weare it so in suspence, that the beholder may still suspecte it to be falling from his arse. It is cutt with a pouche before, which is drawne together with a string."
Additional photos of the outfit: cóta front, hem, buttons, and brat.
Shinrone gown:
photo by hayling billy
The Shinrone gown was found in a bog in 1843 in Co. Tipperary near Shinrone, Co. Offaly. Unlike the Killery outfit, there were no human remains or other items found with it (Briggs and Turner 1986). The ends of the sleeves and possibly also the bottom of the skirt are missing. The sleeves would have had wrist cuffs or ties that allowed them to be fastened around the wearer's wrists. It probably also had loops or rings along the U-shaped center-front opening for lacing. It is typically dated late 16th-early 17th c, based on its similarity to a circa 1575 illustration by Lucas DeHeere and to the dresses described by Luke Gernon in 1620 (Dunlevy 1989, McGann 2000). It could be older however, because Laurent Vital described dresses with this type of sleeve in 1518.
Copyrighted, better quality photos: left front, right front, back Additional details: side-front, front waistline
Tipperary Cóta Mór:
photos from Dunlevy 1989 and hayling billy
Another Cóta Mór. This one is from Co. Tipperary, exact find spot and date unknown. Like the Shinrone gown, it was not found with human remains or other items (Ó Floinn 1995). It is probably also from the 17th century (Dunlevy 1989).
Additional photos: front, side, front buttons, front detail, side
Brat and hats:
photo by hayling billy
I haven't been able to find any clear photos of the label on this display, but based on the excellent condition and the presence of the leather tie, I think this is the Meenybradden woman's brat.
Closeup of the tie:
The Meenybradden woman is a bog body found in Meenybradden bog, Co. Donegal in 1978. The brat was wrapped around her as a shroud and secured with the leather tie (Delaney and Ó Floinn 1995). No other garments or artifacts were found with her, although she may have been wearing a linen garment such as a léine when she was buried. Linen tends to not survive in bogs. The Meenybradden woman has a calibrated radiocarbon date of AD 1130-1310, but some archaeologist have suggested humic contamination from the peat may be throwing off the dating. Her brat is identical in cut to others from the 16th-17th centuries (Delaney and Ó Floinn 1995).
Meenybradden brat laid flat. (photo from Delaney and Ó Floinn 1995)
Wool hats:
Hats from Boolabaun, Co. Tipperary made of wool felt which has been cut and sewn to form the shape. They have togs of unspun wool worked into them giving them the appearance of faux fur. Dunlevy suggests a 15th-16th c date for them (Dunlevy 1989, McClintock 1943).
Wool cloak:
photo by hayling billy
The museum label says it's from Glenmalin bog, Malinmore, Co. Donegal, but I think this may be a mistake. According to Ó Floinn (1995), the artifact with accession number 1946:416 from Malinmore, Co. Donegal is a bale of linen. Ó Floinn's table also gives accession number 1946:416* for a group of clothing from Owenduff, Co. Mayo which includes a gown, a jacket, and a cloak. If the cloak in the photo is actually the one from Owenduff, it is probably from the 17th c (Dunlevy 1989). Alternatively, someone might have misidentified a wool cloak as a bale of linen. The museum label dates this as late Medieval to post-Medieval.
*Either Ó Floinn made a typo or this is a mistake in the museum records. Museums are not supposed to give the same accession number to 2 different artifacts. In the NMI's defense, 1946 was probably a messy year for everyone.
Bibliography:
Briggs, C. S. and Turner, R. C. (1986). Appendix: a gazetteer of bog burials from Britain and Ireland. In I. Stead, J. B. Bourke and D. Brothwell (eds) Lindow Man: the Body in the Bog (p. 181–95). British Museum Publications Ltd.
Delaney, M. and Ó Floinn, R. (1995). A Bog Body from Meenybradden Bog, County Donegal, Ireland. In R. C. Turner and R. G. Scaife (eds) Bog Bodies: New Discoveries and New Perspectives (p. 123–32). British Museum Press.
Dunlevy, Mairead (1989). Dress in Ireland. B. T. Batsford LTD, London.
Gernon, Luke (1620). A Discourse of Ireland. https://celt.ucc.ie/published/E620001/
McClintock, H. F. (1943). Old Irish and Highland Dress. Dundalgan Press, Dundalk.
McGann, K. (2000). What the Irish Wore/The Shinrone Gown — An Irish Dress from the Elizabethan Age. Reconstructing History. http://web.archive.org/web/20080217032749/http:/www.reconstructinghistory.com/irish/shinrone.html
O’Floinn, R. (1995). Recent research into Irish bog bodies. In R. C. Turner and R. G. Scaife (eds) Bog Bodies: New Discoveries and New Perspectives (p. 137–45). British Museum Press.
Vital, Laurent (1518). Archduke Ferdinand's visit to Kinsale in Ireland, an extract from Le Premier Voyage de Charles-Quint en Espagne, de 1517 à 1518. translated by Dorothy Convery and edited by me. https://irish-dress-history.tumblr.com/post/721163132699131904/laurent-vitals-1518-description-of-ireland
#16th century#17th century#irish dress#dress history#gaelic ireland#historical men's fashion#historical women's fashion#bog finds#irish history#historical dress#brog#bratanna#irish mantle#headwear#triús#cóta mór
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A Crimson Peak Timeline
(based on the art book, documents shown onscreen in the movie, and the character bios GDT wrote- where the bios don't contradict film canon. I've attempted to combine the two where contradicting elements are unavoidable.
Sometime during the reign of Charles II (1660-1685). Edward Sharpe created Baronet for services to the crown in providing clay for construction projects. Allerdale Hall built in the parish of Above Derwent, Cumberland, England.
1841. Carter Everett Cushing born the second son of six in an impoverished family that traveled the eastern US for his father's masonry business.
1863. Beatrice Alexandra Chetwynde, eldest daughter of a large, wealthy family, marries Baronet James William Sharpe. The marriage is contracted solely for the Chetwyndes' land, which adjoins the Sharpe estate.
April 1, 1865. Lucille Sharpe born.
Sometime between 1865 and ~1873. Carter marries 18-year-old socialite Eleanor Wyndham-Beckford, to the immense disapproval of her family. Though she is disowned and the couple struggles to make ends meet for years, Carter ultimately becomes a successful developer.
February 18, 1867. Thomas Sharpe born.
C. 1867-1872. The Sharpes employ a wet nurse- and later nanny -named Theresa, who would become the only adult to care about the children in their lives. She would ultimately be sacked after Beatrice caught young Lucille snuggling with her for warmth on a winter's night (on the grounds that a noble child should not be close with servants- a "crime" for which Lucille was beaten severely).
1876. 11-year-old Lucille murders her father with poison distilled from mine tailings, after he took Thomas on a hunting trip and left him in the woods to die of exposure.
Late 1876? A mining vein near Allerdale Hall collapses, killing several child mine-workers. I could have sworn I read somewhere that James foolishly dug a mining tunnel under the house shortly before his death, and that's what destabilized it, but I can't find it now.
October 9, 1877. Edith M. Cushing born, after Eleanor had suffered several miscarriages.
1878. Thomas and Lucille begin a secret sexual relationship.
Early August, 1879. Beatrice catches Lucille and Thomas together; Lucille murders her to keep their secret. The siblings try to run away together but are caught and brought back. Thomas is sent to live with an aunt and uncle in Whitehaven (who in turn send him to boarding school), while Lucille is forced into a mental institution.
Probably summer, 1885. Thomas finishes his schooling and rescues Lucille; they return to Allerdale.
1887. The Sharpe siblings travel to London seeking investors for Thomas' venture to reopen the mines. A wealthy, terminally ill gentleman, Major Richard Upton, takes a liking to Thomas and begs Thomas to marry his disabled daughter, Pamela. At Lucille's urging- since they're running out of both options and money -Thomas agrees. The two attempt to poison Pamela to death, but Lucille ends up strangling her instead.
Sometime between October 1887 and October 1888. Eleanor Cushing dies of cholera and appears to Edith as a ghost.
Early-mid 1890s. Carter and the recently widowed Mrs. McMichael have a brief flirtation that both Edith and Eunice oppose. Though it goes nowhere, the rift between the two girls is never healed.
Late October or November 1892. Edith (age 15) becomes infatuated with a 25-year-old poet who is having marital difficulties. After convincing Carter to hire him as a tutor, all unknowing, she confesses her feelings to him. He not only takes his leave of the Cushing family, but of Buffalo itself, quickly moving away with his wife and children.
1893. The Sharpes travel to Edinbrugh, where Thomas again finds no investors but does attract the attention of a 36-year-old widow of means, Margaret McDermott. Once again, he marries her and helps Lucille poison her, though she is ultimately killed via blunt force trauma.
Summer 1893. Edith asks her best friend, Alan McMichael, to kiss her so she can write about kisses more accurately. It means nothing to her, but sparks an unrequited passion in Alan
1896. Lucille falls pregnant by Thomas. He travels with her to Italy, which he loves and she despises. There he meets a wealthy woman named Enola Sciotti, widowed and bereaved of her only child, and decides of his own accord to marry and murder her in their usual fashion. The Sharpes and Enola return to Allerdale.
1897. Lucille is delivered of a son, who may or may not be sickly. Enola tries to care for her and the child, promising she can save him. The baby either dies of natural causes or Lucille smothers him under the conviction that his cries mean something is terribly wrong with him and he can't live- this is one contradiction in the bios vs. the movie that I prefer to leave vague, since it's possible not even Lucille remembers what happened. Either way, she blames Enola and dispatches her by unknown means. Thomas patents his excavating machine.
Late summer(?) 1901. Alan returns from studying medicine in London and sets up an ophthalmology practice in Buffalo. Edith's debut novel, Figures In The Mist, is rejected for publication by Oglivie and Sons. Thomas seeks investment in the mines from Cushing and Co., unsuccessfully. Edith and the Sharpes begin a friendship. Edith sees her mother's ghost for the second time.
September 14, 1901. President William McKinley dies after being shot at the Pan-American Exposition in Buffalo. I include this because the fact that the movie doesn't is hilarious to me.
October 21, 1901. At the Cushings' dinner party, Carter bribes the Sharpes to leave, instructing Thomas to break Edith's heart or he'll tell her about the marriage to Pamela. A deleted scene reveals that he was on the verge of relenting and investing in the mines when he read the private investigator's report.
October 22, 1901. Lucille murders Carter at his club, then departs to return to England. Thomas and Edith become engaged.
Late October-early November 1901. Thomas and Edith are married and travel to Allerdale.
November-December 1901 (possibly into early 1902?). The rest of the movie's plot.
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➳ pater noster (a yandere!om!belphegor x gn!nun!reader) w/ a hint of solomon x reader
synopsis: some faces are not meant to be trusted but what if your faith towards father himself was just a mere illusion? or is it perhaps that the prince of sloth took a liking for you and do whatever it takes for your innocence to be tainted.
cw: yandere themes, religious au, gore (includes mutilation and blood), minor character death, manipulation, fic has a cliffhanger.
a/n: happy halloween everyone! this fic has been kept on my notes for over a year now and publishing it in the spirit of halloween (also college has been killing me slowly so this is the reason why I am not that active here anymore ;_;;).
No one knew how humankind can feel the sense of paranoia when attending the church’s grounds, despite it’s gruesome and horrid history from the 18th century. Some say that it’s because of the church’s dark history while the others passed down the same story that you heard from your childhood that several unrested souls had haunted these holy grounds you stood above since the day you’ve arrived. Thus, beginning your mission as a devoted nun to the high divines.
You didn’t blame those people. After all, the church had stood from thousands of years ago as many of your ancestors were executed for the sake of appeasing the gods, or perhaps is it the demons who are offered these so-called sacrifices. You didn’t believed the words from that crazy woman you’ve encountered this morning that a demon took it’s residence in the catacombs below the old ancestral chruch, knowing that those words are nothing but blasphemy, words that could taint the same people you’ve worshipped and adored.
As the bells of St. Michael Parish had rung, signifying that the mass (which had begun an hour ago) had concluded. Many of the people (who attended) and your peers had left, ready to celebrate grace together with their beloved families, going out to eat or spending time alone in the covenants while a certain nun had stayed behind to make up for the missing prayer they missed this morning.
Speaking in the words of old religion, they closed their eyes and began their session alone to give their thanks to Father himself. The empty church had given (M/C) the sense of peace and quiet they needed after hearing such loud noises during the day, preventing them from having a peace of your mind and soul. They firmly gripped the small rosary that they’ve kept on the side of their habit as they spoke the prayer that indicates the beginning of their daily prayer.
“In nomine Patris et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti”
As you lit the candle, you think about your own family. How are your siblings doing? Are your parents doing fine since your departure? Are they well? Do they missed you terribly?
They prayed for an hour, forgetting about the concept of time and was contented with Father hearing their prayers. Each hail mary’s and our father are spoken many times and it finally concluded with a small “amen.” You feel the soreness of your knees from kneeling on the tuffet as you stood up and make the sign of the cross while staring into the giant cross you say your prayers with. Before you went back to the covenant to join the others, you lit a candle and spoke a small prayer before you make your way towards the others.
Of course they are. After all, you almost recieved countless of messages from your family about your well-being. You spoke your prayers towards them for they will have a good and lasting life, away from the dangers lurking around their lives. You’ve closed your eyes for a bit until a voice interrupted your alone time. “Making up for the missing prayer for this morning, (M/C)?”
“Ah!” You jumped from the voice behind you. “Father Solomon! I didn’t know that you’re here for your nightly walks. You scared me for quite a bit and yes, I did make up for this morning’s prayer.” He replied with a soft hum and lights up another candle for him to say his thanks before he calls it a day. The looming light for the tainted windows of the solemn adds some light aside from the many candles that was lit as the buildings source of light. You find peace within these walls and the peaceful silence doesn’t even bother you, contented with your closest friend by your side.
Speaking of your friend, he breaks the silence and asks a single question that sparked up your curiosity. “Say my friend,” He solemnly spoke, lighting another candle but this time, the color of the candle he lit up was black. “Do you believe these rumors that the demons roaming this sacred grounds? Aren’t you afraid of such creatures who would lured humanity into an endless pit of sin and everlasting pain?”
Hearing that question makes your skin crawling and feeling uneasy. Speaking this kind of question during night time is kinda scary and quite unnerving at the same time. You didn’t want to upset your friend and just went with the flow upon answering his question. “While I do believe in the concept of those creatures, yes. I believe that the demons are still roaming around these holy grounds, tempting for us to succumb into their sin and no, I am not scared. Don’t you forget that one of my closest friends is an exorcist?” You patted his back as you refer to the young priest as your closest friend. The old bell rang from the tower above, signifying that the time for prayer and seclusion has been completed and what better way to call it a day was to eat dinner together with your fellow nuns.
“Now, come along now, Father Solomon. We don’t wanna miss out today’s dinner special won’t we?” Before you make your way towards the kitchen, Father Solomon stopped you on your tracks, held your hand and gave you something. “Wait, my friend. There’s something I should give you.” He handed you an item that was small and light, the first thing you thought that the item you hold was a small jewelry of some sort. “Think of this as my gift of appreciation for being one of my most trusted friends.” The priest then opens his hand and showed you a ring. The ring looks really minimal with the exception of a purple gem on top of the small jewel.
“I found this while I was tending in the gardens the other day and it turns out that this precious gem doesn’t have an owner. Plus, the color kinda reminds me of you and I want you to have it.” Speechless, you took the ring from his hands and slipped it right into your ring finger. It was a perfect size! It wasn’t loose nor tight. You loved this ring but you’re still hesitant upon accepting your friends small gift. Solomon noticed that you were nervous and hesitant on wearing that ring. “Don’t worry about that ring being cursed. For I have already blessed it with the blessings from the celestial realm. That ring definitely can protect you from any harm.”
His words convinced you that this ring wasn’t cursed but just an ordinary ring. You slipped it right back to your ring finger and thanked your friend for the small gift he gave you. “Now come on, let’s get to the cafeteria first before we ran out of those delicious juice they served!”
“You can go first, my friend. There’s something I need to tend in the gardens. I don’t want the children to be playing outside of the gardens this late.” You nodded and proceeded to walk towards the dining area where the rest of your peers gathered. It was quite unusual for your friend to tend the gardens this late, considering that the children are given strict rules when it comes to them roaming around the grounds without adult supervision. Plus, Father Solomon only tended the gardens every Wednesdays, Fridays and Sundays.
Today was Thursday and it was supposed to be his turn the next day, which is strange to say the least. As oblivious as you are, you shrugged it off, thinking that it was just a mishap or just a mere coincidence that happened today.
The dinner was good and not long after you finished your meal, everyone in the room heard a scream from the outside. Children are escorted and ran outside from the dormitories, which is led by the nun who took charge in watching over them. “What happened?!” The reverend mother spoke as the young nun shook in fear while trying her best to answer her question. “The demon attacked them! I saw the creature devouring the poor child in front of my eyes! A creature surrounded by darkness as their teeth feast on the poor child!” You hugged the shaken nun, collapsing into your arms as she sobbed and sobbed, knowing that she failed her duty in watching over the orphans, now paranoid and scared due to what’s happening outside of their dorms.
You quickly ran outside towards the scene of the crime and what came out from your mouth was a gasp and felt the feeling of dread and nausea seething through your stomach; a child’s mangled form is laying on the floor, lifeless as blood continuously flow from it’s main source, staining the dirt below. Their eyes wide open, mouth distorted into a scream, as if they had called for help. A bite wound can be seen on the side of the child’s stomach, exposing their remains.
Colors of red and blue, flashing throughout the entire grounds, despite all the noise and commotion the police made, all you can hear was a deafening ring on your ears. Your legs gave out after you knew which child is assigned to this gruesome fate. It was none other than the child whom you’ve taken care of ever since their infancy, the same child that gave you the brightest smile you’ve ever seen and the one who made your day even better. You began to cry hysterically, catching the attention to your closest friend as he gave his shoulder to cry on.
“There there, it’s okay (M/C). I know it’s hard for you to process what happened and I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect them in time.” Solomon rubbed his hand back and forth on your back while watching their body being placed in a body bag and placed on the back on the ambulance, ready to be examined by medical professionals to see who’s the main perpetrator of this horrid crime.
You couldn’t sleep that night after you went back to your residency alone (due to Solomon being one of the people being questioned). The more you blinked, more tears slid from your cheeks, staining your pillows, thinking on what happens if you rescued them in time. Will they still be the same child you took care of? Will they grow up and obtaining their dream profession after they graduated college?
You wished those events can happen in real life but alas, they couldn’t because they finally succumb to their untimely death. You felt the numbness coursing throughout your body while staring towards the dimly lit ceiling of your room.
Despite trying you best to fall back asleep, you couldn’t shake the vivid and gruesome scene. You became scared for a bit but prayed to the celestial beings that you and the others are guided to a safer path. You prayed and prayed until you couldn’t feel your knees anymore as tears continuously poured down your cheek. After what it felt like hours, you lay down on your bed as eyes finally closed, taking a good night’s rest for tomorrow’s occasion.
. ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .
You woke up on a strange environment, standing barefoot on the stone cold ground gave you goosebumps throughout your entire body. You’re still wearing the exact same clothes you went to bed but didn’t remember that you put on the ring right before you went to bed. It’s strange to say the least, you remembered that you took off that ring and placed it right on your bedside table.
The ring itself began to glow, bright violet specks of light flickered as more fog appeared in this strange place. The more you walk in this endless loop, the more the temperature became colder and colder to the point that your body began to shiver. The thin clothing that clings to your skin doesn’t help and you felt like you’re about to pass out due to hypothermia.
Out of nowhere, a voice called out for you.
“(M/C)”
It was a man’s voice. It echoes across the void. You whipped your head back and forth to see who’s the owner of that voice. At first, you thought that it was Solomon’s voice but it isn’t or wasn’t it Simeon to begin with? No, it’s not the same person who spoke your name.
“Come home to me. For you have committed such crime and sin, a sin that belonged to one of my brothers.”
There it is again! And what crime is he talking about? You? A nun who’s devoted to Father himself, committed a sin that belonged to the 7 deadly sins? That’s absurd! You never commited such acts, not after you became a nun in the first place. “What are you talking about? Who are you and what crime did I even commit? I’ll never turn my back against God and commit a sin!”
The voice chuckled and that’s when you felt your ring finger began to tighten up. You tried removing the ring in your finger but it felt like it was glued on your poor finger. A bruise began to form on your finger as it cuts off the circulation. “Who I am doesn’t matter, little one. After all, you’re gonna meet me soon.” You screamed as the ring began to bury deep within your skin, blood dripping from the newly formed wound. “As for your crime, well. You already know what that is, my dear. You’re gonna find out about that soon. But for now,” You screamed in excruciating pain, more blood came rushing from the cut as your finger was completely cut off, laying lifelessly on the cold stone ground.
Before you know it, a shadow looms over you. Ram like horns on each side of it’s head and it gave you a eery smile, taking pleasure on the pain you just went through. It’s violet-pink eyes stared into yours and in response, you gave this malicious entity a sharp glare as you bare your teeth, both in pain and to show your bravery despite being in pain.
The demon surely loves your bravery towards him and it amuses him. He picked up your severed finger, keeping it as a souvenir and leaned in closer towards your face and spoke,
“It’s time for you to wake up.”
A sudden jolt of energy woke you up, sweat dripping down from the top of your head while the beating of your heart becomes faster and faster the more air you breathed in. You look around your room; the light of the sun seething through your window as the fresh breeze of cool air makes its way to your room. In a panic, you checked your ring finger. To your relief, it wasn’t severed nor wounds appeared around the finger. As for your ring, the simplistic jewelry is still on the same area you’ve placed since last night.
It felt so real. The pain, the blood dripping from your wound and the way your ring tightens up. You thought that when you woke up, all that was left on your finger was torn up muscles and blood staining the comfortable bed sheets. Not to mention how that mysterious entity pinpointed a crime that you didn’t even committed, let alone considering that it was also a sin.
A sin that belonged to one of his brothers.
Instead of becoming scared due to your horrible nightmare, you’ve become even more curious not only towards that entity but also to the ring Father Solomon gave you yesterday. And it looks like you have something to talk about to the young priest himself.
. ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .
“Solomon!” You called out to your dear friend from afar, seeing him reading the sacred scriptures underneath a tree that’s located from the outskirts of the old church. “There you are. I was searching for you everywhere and it’s unusual for you to be alone in this tree since you almost spend your time in your office.”
The priest only hums softly, moving aside to indicate that he’s inviting you to sit with him, which you gladly accepted. “I hope you’re doing well since the incident last night. Condolences to you and the others.” You smiled in sadness from the words you heard from him. “It’s fine, friend. They’re still trying to find the killer. I hope they caught them fast and finally have some justice to [c/n]. Poor child, may God let them rest in peace.”
You wiped off your tears, still remembering the sweet, innocent smile the child gave to you. They’re such a good kid, taking the role-model as an older sibling to the other orphans and even taking some of the blame if one of the orphans made a mistake. The thought quickly subsided, shaking your head and a serious look appeared on your face. “The kid’s not the reason why I’m here. May I ask you something, my friend?”
Solomon placed a bookmark on his book and placing it over the soft patch of grass. Wait a minute – you noticed that his eyes are quite strange; eye bags and the soft color of purple and pink hue over his brown eyes. You saw how his eyes twitched as if he didn’t sleep well last night. You’ve become so distracted over the color and the eye bags of his eyes that his voice broke your trance. “Ask away, (M/C) and I’ll try my best to answer those questions of yours.”
“Do you know this ring’s origins?” You showed him the ring around your finger. His smile widen when he saw you wearing the ring. “Quite beautiful, isn’t it?” He took your hand on his, inspecting the piece of jewelry he gave you yesterday. “Yes, I agree with you but I have a dream- nightmare rather, about this piece of jewelry.” The priest’s giddy expression suddenly dropped as soon as you mentioned the term ‘nightmare’. This concerns Solomon and he felt the atmosphere between the both of you became serious.
“What nightmare, (M/C)? Please do tell me what happened there?” You hesitated at first, still vividly remembering how a demon appeared out of nowhere as the ring began to sever your poor finger. The lingering pain still subsided within your mind, for the pain you felt was too real in the awakening world.
You randomly rubbed your hand against your ring finger while looking at the green patches of grass, noticing on how each sway of the individual leaves was caused by the cold winds blew across the courtyard. After what felt like hours, you’ve spoken about this gruesome dream of yours. “I’ve encountered something…evil from this dream of mine. I saw an entity that we feared and loathed, it’s horns are long and twisted, a tail which can choke a mere human to death in under a minute and his white sharp eyes.”
You shivered alone by just describing the demon’s features but it didn’t stop you from telling your close friend what such events had left you shaken since this morning. “I also remember how the ring you gave me tighten and remembering the pain I’ve endured as I try to pry off this cursed piece of jewelry. Believe me or not, this caused my ring finger to be severed, blood dripping non stop from my veins as I screamed in agony and pain while that demon watched me cry in satisfaction. What does that filthy creature even want from me?”
Solomon only listened to your words with a fixated expression on his face. “So your saying that this ring I gave you is the main reason why you have a nightmare last night?” You nodded, still feeling the your body shaken a little after you told your horrid story of a nightmare. “I thought this ring was blessed by you, father. Isn’t the blessing by the celestial beings cleansed this ring from the likes of 'it’?”
“I did blessed this ring. In fact, I performed a ritual that has been done way back thousands of years ago. I thought that the ring couldn’t be possessed by any entity unless..” Your priest of a friend suddenly stood in silence and after what felt like hours, he finally break the silence. “I did blessed this ring. In fact, I performed a ritual that has been done way back thousands of years ago. I thought that the ring couldn’t be possessed by any entity unles..” Your priest of a friend suddenly stood in silence and after what felt like hours, he finally break the silence.
“I think that the ring isn’t the target to begin with.” His words send chills down your spine. Hands are sweaty from paranoia and nervousness, eyes widen a bit from the words his spoke and your mouth wide agape; no words are even coming out from your mouth. Solomon looks at you in a serious manner for he knew that your life is in danger.
“The demon wants you, my friend. You are in grave danger…”
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Typical Catholic Church:
Welcome to Our Lady of Pain Parish
The A/C is broken, the kneelers have Legos glued to them, and we slap you saying "Memento Mori" before each Mass
Mass times: Every day at 7AM and 10:30AM on Sundays. We share a priest with 5 other parishes.
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