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minhosimthings · 4 months

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Angels in Tibet

Symphony Smut Series Day 13: Amaarae's Angels in Tibet

Lyric: Louvre and Armani I like how you say it

Pairings: fiance!Jay × fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI 18+, implied use of pheromone, bathroom sex, semi public sex, fingering, p in v sex, overstimulation, missionary, unprotected sex (not for you baby), mention of breeding, rough sex and I'm talking ROUGH, dom!Jay, sub!reader, fluffy in the beginning

A/N: Day 13 baby! 5 more oneshots to go and we'll be over. I just had to do a Paris fic with Jay cause IT'S JAY. @yunabi436 a gift for you darling

THE SYMPHONY SMUT SERIES MASTERLIST

Jay was a 'date to marry' guy. Which was very evident from the fact that he bought you your favourite flowers on your first date which he had asked you about the day before.

The ring on your finger never shone brighter than now, when Jay had proposed a pre-wedding holiday to Paris, even though you had begged him not to spend more money on you.

"What kind of a husband would I be if I didn't?" He reasoned, blocking your attempts to put in your credit card to chip in for the trip, "Plus you've always wanted to see the Louvre so we're going, no buts."

"Not even my butt?"

Paris was beautiful. Paris was amazing. Paris was amazing. But most of all, Paris had The Louvre.

A place you had been wanting to visit since you saw it in a magazine when you were seven. You had always hada knack for art history, which, due to parental pressure, you hadn't taken as a major in college. Jay knew that. And that's why he took you to see the triangular polycarbon (or atleast he guessed it was polycarbon) structure, where treasures beheld your eyes.

"You know the interesting thing about this painting-" you stared at all the beautiful swirls of colours on the frame in front of you, "is that even though it is more harder to paint than the painting opposite of it-" you glances at the crowd of people behind you, "It is still largely ignored."

"So you'd much rather analyse The Wedding Feast at Cana rather than The Mona Lisa herself?" Jay rested his chin on your shoulder, reading the brief introduction of the painter carved at the pedestal.

"Mona Lisa is a masterpiece I will admit. But this!" You gestured dramatically towards the painting with your hands, "This is magnificent."

"Darling as much as I would love to stand here and watch you talk about this painting, didn't you want to get a look at Psyche by Antonio Canova? And isn't that in the next room with the sculptures?"

"Oh yeah." You responded. Seeing all the artworks of the Louvre would take approximately 20 days and you were only here for a week. So you obliged and took Jay's hand casually strolling off to the next room.

Though you hadn't mentioned it, your nostrils had had a sense of misdirection throughout the entire time Jay strolled close to you. You had brushed it off as a thing of the atmosphere, continuing with your tour.

Unbeknownst to you however, earlier that day, Jay had rubbed some of his 'special' cologne onto his wrists and neck. You were a generally freaky person, and he knew that. So your everlasting wish to fuck in the bathroom of a museum was about to be fulfilled today.

"Jay ah-ah fuck."

Jay's got you pinned against him, back to chest, feet balanced atop the muscle of his thighs. Spread wide open, bare and exposed, helpless in the way he traps your throat between bicep and forearm.

“This what you had in mind for the bathroom of The Louvre?” he asks, circles a wet finger over your clit, a ghosting touch that leaves your hips canting upward. Almost frantic, a silent pleading, but he traps you steadfast.

It started as a small kiss. A peck. A brush of the lips so gentle you barely felt it until he pressed his mouth to yours fully. There was no tongue, nor any breathlessness when he pulled away and looked at you again. But you could feel the shift in the air. The drop in your stomach and sudden stillness in the room while a white noise clouded your head.

You’re a little light-headed, blistered beneath the skin, needy and fidgeting. Maybe you want him to hold you still, to fit you tight against him, to fight against your struggle—something carnal deep down that gets off on his strength, the power you know he can wield over you.

Your vision begins to speckle and fizz, and pleasure coils blinding hot in the pit of your stomach. At his mercy, desperate for anything he’ll give you—the helplessness breaks you apart, soaks you between the legs. The sound of his pumping fingers is filthy and slick, and your cunt sucks him in. Begs more than your mouth ever could.

You meet each thrust of his fingers with a tilt of your hips, exhale a stuttering moan when he begins to grind the bulge of his cock against the curve of your ass. When he pulls you hard against his chest and whispers a string of praise into your ear.

His name is the last coherent word you get out before it’s only feral moans of bliss. You’re so close it’s like a fire burning in your limbs, every muscle tensing as you try to withhold it a little longer to prolong this moment where all you cared about was him and the way he could send you into the stars. When the tip of his finger pinpoints and stiffens to flick teasingly before he latches once again, that’s all it takes to have the elastic snaps, sending a shockwave from your core all the way to the tips of your fingers, your muffled scream echoing off the mirrors. He’s satisfied with himself, smiling as he stands and lets your legs fall limply from his grasp, his hands catching your boneless body from slinking down onto the floor.

This man was beautiful, so godsdamned beautiful.

And he was all yours.

"Can you take more darling?" Jay questioned, clutching your hips to keep you steady, admiring your naked back in the mirror behind you, "I can do it all night if you want."

Without warning, he shoved his cock into your pussy, hearing your muffled whimper as he'd done so. "quiet, don't wanna wake up the sculptures do we?" His own voice was strained as he scolded you, beginning to set his own pace. Unforgiving and harsh, making you lightheaded and dizzy.

You felt him right at your womb again and again and fucking again. You felt any semblance of your very sanity begin to melt away as he fucked you, so roughly that it almost had you begging for him to go easy on you.

He was fucking you like a thing void of a soul, like a rag doll. Every single time you felt him back inside, he pushed you deeper and deeper onto the marble. Your hands had felt useless, not even able to support your own weight. You offered them to him, feeling his lone hand take both of yours, anchoring himself to you without his pace even faltering. It was a reminder to you both that he's fucking huge, so strong and capable of easily overpowering you. It had you nearly sobbing, your insides squeezing him snugly.

Jay holds your stomach down and goes deeper. You squeal as you cum on his dick. He keeps going until eventually he slows down and cums, the warm feeling enveloping your pussy like a cocoon.

Jay looks up at your almost passed out figure and lets you rest your head on his shoulder as he pulls out.

"You doing okay baby?" Jay asks uncertainly, noticing how hard you were breathing.

"Park Jongsoeng how is our wedding day sex gonna beat this?" You joke, leaning against the cold marble. Thank heavens that the museum wasn't too busy today.

"Oh don't worry about that." Jay growls in your ear, squeezing your waist,

"I'll make sure to fuck a baby into you on that day."

Taglist: @ramenoil @mynameisniya150 @demigodmahash + whoever wants to be tagged, send an ask my way!

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incomingalbatross · 5 months

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Traditional feast days within the Twelve Days of Christmas:

December 25: Christmas Day, the Nativity!

December 26: St. Stephen the first martyr

December 27: St. John the Evangelist

December 28: The Holy Innocents, murdered by Herod

December 29: St. Thomas a Becket and David

December 30: The Feast of the Holy Family (traditionally celebrated on the Sunday within the Octave, but on this day if there is no such Sunday)

December 31: St. Sylvester I, pope during the reign of Constantine and the Council of Nicaea

January 1: Octave-Day of the Nativity, traditionally the Feast of the Circumcision (and now of Mary, Mother of God)

January 2: Feast of the Holy Name of Jesus

January 3: Traditionally no particular saint (that I can find)

January 4: Traditionally no particular saint (now St. Elizabeth Ann Seton)

January 5: St. Telesphorus (second-century pope and martyr) and St. Edward the Confessor (King of England 1042-1066)

January 6: Epiphany! Feast of the Coming of the Magi, the Baptism of Our Lord, and the Wedding at Cana

(An eagle-eyed observer may note that there are thirteen days on this list. Opinions differ slightly as to whether the Twelve Days begin on the 26th or end on the 5th, but I don't think it matters terribly.)

(Also I probably missed some feast days.)

#inklings-challenge #(indirectly)#looking up some Twelve Days facts #catholic

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osirisiii-bc · 3 months

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Papa's chasuble colours analysis.

It’s sad to see the fandom so sleepy, so what a better moment to be back with some ramblings…

So, we know each Papa got their own chasuble colour, but is it casually assigned?

In the Catholic church, vestments colours have specific meanings, usually they change based on the celebration or festivity period, so I thought it would be cool to find out if the meanings match in Ghost’s world too.

The colours used by our Papas are:

Papa IV - Blue: Advent. It is a period (usually 24 days) before Christmas. We witnessed his journey from Cardinal to Pope, with his ascension on stage; he basically reborn as Papa Emeritus IV. I think it would be a nice analogy to Christmas. Blue is also connected to the celebrations of the Holy Mary… I don’t think I have to say more.

Papa III - Purple: Lent. It is the 40 days period before Easter, when christians celebrate death and resurrection of Jesus… are you thinking what I’m thinking? Plus, purple is also the color of grief (death) in Catholic Church.

Papa II - Green: Epiphany/Pentecost. The Epiphany indicates many events in Catholicism, in particular the arrival of the Magis at Jesus’ birth, the event of his baptism and the Cana Wedding (that is also a badass painting of Paolo Veronese that the Louvre should give us back, btw. It is one of my life’s missions. They can keep the Mona Lisa.). So we have a birth (Year Zero), the moment Jesus becomes the “son of God” (Jigolo Har Megiddo, to say one) and a feast with wine (Body and Blood…?). The Pentecost is even more interesting; it is celebrated seven Sundays after Easter to celebrate the descent of the Holy Spirit on the Apostles, event that marks the start of the Catholic Church. Now, in 1966 Anton LaVey and Kenneth Anger founded the Church of Satan, declaring that year the Year One. Ghost did the Year Zero, which I always thought was a refer to both the christian Year Zero and the satanic Year One. In both cases, a birth/start is involved, so the birth of the Antichrist as main theme is on point.

Papa I - Red/White: red for Holy Week/Pentecost, white for Christmas/Easter/Marriage. It is often said that Primo represents everything that’s holy, so a refer to the holiest of Christian festivities would make sense to me.

I haven’t gotten into all the details because there would be too much to say and analyze. I don’t know if TF has ever planned all this, maybe not - even if in a last year interview he said he was planning the color scheme of the new era, so it shouldn’t be completely casual-, especially with the first Papas, but even if he didn’t his ass is lucky enough to catch some cool coincidences.

#ghost band #the band ghost #ghost lore #ghost bc #emeritus family #ghost papas

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queerprayers · 3 months

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I'm looking ahead to Lent right now, but I'm also thinking about the current season, and how for the longest time I didn't even consider this a season. The season "after Epiphany"—it doesn't even get its own name in my calendar. It seemed a mismatched muddle of feast days and readings, and Jesus ages 30 years in a month. It was nice to have a breather between Christmas and Lent, but that was all.

And yes, this is a green season, "ordinary time." A pastor I follow (can't remember who at the moment) pointed out that most of our years are spent in ordinary time, and most of us pray that this is true for our lives too—we ask for a rhythm of growing but not a grand narrative of historical events and life/death situations. "May you live in uninteresting times," goes the blessing. Perhaps it's because my life has been so full of life and death, but I have a hard time with the in-between growing. I get bored without dramatics.

Nevertheless, this year I'm processing the gift that this little green season is—and it's not boring, not at all! It starts with Epiphany—and what a great name for Three Kings' Day! A eureka moment, a breaking in, a sudden realization! Then Jesus is thirty and we have the Baptism. We read the wedding at Cana at some point; there's the conversion of St. Paul. Then the Presentation—Jesus is again a baby, so some whiplash there.

I know Catholics and many others have Transfiguration in August, but Lutherans have Transfiguration the last Sunday of this season, before Ash Wednesday. This makes sense timeline-wise, but only recently am I putting together a cohesive season for myself.

If Epiphany is a eureka moment, a breaking in, its season is one of miracles. Not the grand ones of Christmas or Easter, to be sure, but Jesus creeps in on us these few weeks. Breaking in but like a thief in the night. He's a child being worshiped by strangers, a boy playing in a childhood mostly skipped over, a man being baptized by his cousin from an apocalyptic desert cult while a bird-God breaks through the clouds, a guy at his friend's wedding negotiating with his mother and pleasing the guests but John calls it a manifestation of glory. And then for my church, the greatest manifestation since his birth, the breaking through of God into his person on a mountain with his best friends. His ancestors appearing in communion with him.

We have breaking in and through, manifestation, miracles, a strange timeline for a strange man. Foreigners, cousins, mother, best friends. So much unwritten and lost to time. And this is a season.

So I'm looking ahead to Lent, but I'm also honoring that we've made a season out of bits and pieces of glory—and bits and pieces are more than we could ever ask for. Before we enter the desert, we alternately bask in and are shocked by the glory around us. "Eureka" is an exclamation meaning "I found it"—in the story, Archimedes is so shocked by what he has found (the volume of irregular objects by seeing himself take up space in his bath) that he runs naked through the streets. In my opinion, this is a completely appropriate response to finding more of the world.

I said I get bored without dramatics, but what's more dramatic than God existing, manifesting, loving? The season "after Epiphany," post-realization. Growing in between life and death. Your whole life after this moment. I'm not saying flash your neighbors, but God is a whole world, breaking in, and you've found it. What are you gonna do about it?

#maybe this is obvious to everyone else but I've just been processing it #liturgical year stans make some noise #also does this post make any sense at all lol

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pwlanier · 8 months

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Louis Béroud (Lyon 1852–1930 Paris)

At the Louvre, with Veronese’s “The Wedding Feast at Cana” in the Background,

signed, dated Louis Béroud 1889, oil on canvas

Dorotheum

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homomenhommes · 4 months

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THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … December 27

c.15 AD – John the Evangelist. The Gospel of John makes several references to "the disciple Jesus loved", and to "the Beloved Disciple", including references to special priviliges that Jesus gave to this relationship, not granted to other disciples. This is taken by some Biblical scholars as evidence that Jesus had a relationship with this disciple which was at least emotionally intimate, and possibly sexual. In medieval Northern Europe, there was even a long-standing tradition that he and Christ were the bridal couple at the Cana Wedding Feast.

It is not clear whether this "Beloved Disciple" was John himself (although it could have been), or someone else possibly Lazarus.

In any event, there are suggestions from elsewhere that John may have had a same-sex relationship with another, his scribe Prochorus, after Christ's death. Prochorus later became bishop of Nicomedia, and in turn, formed a fresh relationship of his own with a younger man, Irenaeus.

1846 – Ezra Allen Miner, more popularly known as Bill Miner, was an American bandit, originally from Bowling Green, Kentucky, who served several prison terms for stagecoach robbery (d.1913). Known for his unusual politeness while committing robberies, he was widely nicknamed the Grey Fox, Gentleman Robber or the Gentleman Bandit. He is reputed to have been the originator of the phrase "Hands up!" Legend has it that Bill Miner admonished his cohorts to fire their guns when in danger of capture but "do not kill a man".

Miner was born Ezra Allen Miner in Vevay Township, near Onondaga, Ingham County, Michigan. He never legally changed his first name, but regarded William Allen Miner as his true name throughout most of his life. He was arrested for the first time in 1866 in San Joaquin County, California and served time there. He then formed a partnership with Bill Leroy to rob a stagecoach. Leroy was caught and lynched, but Miner escaped. He was later caught for another robbery in Tuolumne County, California and was released from San Quentin in 1901.

After his third prison term, Miner moved to British Columbia in Canada, where he adopted the pseudonym George Edwards and is believed to have staged British Columbia's first-ever train robbery on September 10, 1904 at Silverdale about 35 kilometres (22 mi) east of Vancouver, just west of Mission City.

Miner was eventually caught after a botched payroll train robbery near Kamloops at Monte Creek (then known as "Ducks"). Choosing the wrong car, they managed only to rob $15 plus a bottle of kidney pills that Miner picked up off of a shelf. Miner and his two accomplices, Tom "Shorty" Dunn and Louis Colquhoun, were located near Douglas Lake, British Columbia after an extensive manhunt. A posse surrounded them while they were lunching in the woods. Miner presented himself as George Edwards and claimed that he and his cohorts were prospectors. The officer in charge of the posse suspected he had encountered the nefarious train-robbing gang and challenged the claim, putting them under arrest.

Dunn attempted to fire at the police and was shot in the leg. He gave up quickly after being wounded. Colquhoun was disarmed by an officer standing nearby and Miner never drew his weapon. Miner's arrest and subsequent trial in Kamloops caused a media spectacle. Apparently the most damning evidence against him was the bottle of kidney pills that Miner had picked up during the Ducks robbery. Upon his conviction, he, Dunn and Colquhoun were transported by train to the provincial penitentiary in New Westminster. By that time, Miner's celebrity status had risen to the point that the tracks were reputedly lined with throngs of supporters, many of whom expressed satisfaction with the fact that someone had taken the very unpopular CPR to task.

While serving time in the B.C. Penitentiary, Miner escaped in 1907 and was never recaptured in Canada. He moved back to the United States, becoming once again involved in robberies in the South at Gainesville in 1909. There, he served more prison time, and escaped twice.

He died in the prison farm at Milledgeville, Georgia, of gastritis, contracted from drinking brackish water during his previous escape attempt.Researchers Mark Dugan and and John Boessenecker contend that Miner was the only known homosexual outlaw in the American "Wild West." In his younger days, "Miner, who had a slender, girlish figure, no doubt was a target for sex-starved older and stronger convicts." Later, they claim, he lured young men into crime and preyed on them sexually. Whatever Miner's sexual preference, the only evidence of Miner's homosexuality surfaced in 1903 when the Pinkerton Detective Agency stated that Miner "is said to be a sodomist and may have a boy with him."

1932 – On this date Fritz "Fred" Klein the Austrian-born American sex researcher, psychiatrist and pioneering Bisexual rights activist was born (d.2006). He's best known as the inventor of the Klein Sexual Orientation Grid. He was also a pioneering bisexual rights activist, who was an important figure in the modern LGBT rights movement.

As a self-identified bisexual, Klein was surprised at the lack of literature on his sexuality in the New York Public Library in 1974. He was inspired to place an advertisement in a New York City alternative newspaper the Village Voice and founded a ground-breaking social and support group for the Bisexual Community called Bisexual Forum.

He devised the Klein Sexual Orientation Grid, a multi-dimensional system for describing complex sexual orientation, similar to the "zero-to-six" scale Kinsey scale used by Alfred Kinsey, but measuring seven different vectors of sexual orientation and identity (sexual attractions, sexual behavior, sexual fantasies, emotional preference, social preference, lifestyle and self-identification) separately, as they relate person's past, present and ideal future.

Klein published The Bisexual Option: A Concept of One Hundred Percent Intimacy in 1978, based on his research, the world's first real psychological study of bisexuality. He also co-authored Man, His Body, His Sex in 1978, and published Bisexualities: Theory and Research in 1986 and Bisexual and Gay Husbands: Their Stories, Their Words in 2001. He published a novel, Life, Sex and the Pursuit of Happiness in 2005.

1973 – Wilson Cruz (born Wilson Echevarría) is an American actor known for playing Rickie Vasquez on My So-Called Life and the recurring characters of Junito on Noah's Arcand Dr. Hugh Culber on Star Trek: Discovery. As an openly gay person of Puerto Rican ancestry, he has served as an advocate for gay youth, especially gay youth of color.

Wilson Cruz was born in Brooklyn, New York to parents of Puerto Rican descent. His family eventually moved to Rialto, California where he attended Eisenhower High School, graduating in 1991. At age 19, Cruz came out to his parents as gay, first to his mother and then his father. While his mother was initially hurt and shocked, she eventually accepted the news. His father, however, threw him out of the house, and Cruz spent the next few months living in his car and at the homes of friends. He later reconciled with his father.

After coming out to his parents, Cruz went to Hollywood to seek work as an actor, intending to be open about his sexuality from the beginning of his career. In 1994 he was cast as Enrique "Rickie" Vasquez, a troubled gay teen, in the short-lived critically acclaimed cult classic TV series My So-Called Life. In one episode (entitled "So-Called Angels") drawn from Cruz's own life, Rickie comes out to his family, who throw him out of the house.

Cruz works with and advocates on behalf of LGBT youth, especially youth of color. He has volunteered his time as host for the Youth Zone, an online community at Gay.com for LGBT youth. He was the Grand Marshal of the 1998 West Hollywood Gay Pride parade and the 2005 Chicago Pride Parade. In 2008, he was the keynote speaker at the University of Illinois at Chicago's Lavender Graduation and Rainbow Banquet honoring graduating LGBT students.

Cruz joined the board of directors of GLAAD in 1997 in order to assist the organization through a leadership transition, and joined the staff of GLAAD in 2012 as a National Spokesperson and Strategic Giving Officer.

Rowland in his army days

1990 – Died: Chuck Rowland (b.1917) was a founding member of the Mattachine Society. He was active with ONE Inc. and founded the short-lived Church of One Brotherhood. Upon retiring from twenty years of teaching in 1982, Rowland founded Celebration Theatre in Los Angeles.

Chuck Rowland was born and grew up in tiny Gary, South Dakota. He recognized he was homosexual at an early age, and after reading a sympathetic series of articles in a pulp magazine, concluded that, if millions like him existed, they could be mobilized. At the University of Minnesota in the late 1930s, he was active on campus in support of the loyalists of Spain and other causes. While in grad school during 1939–40 he returned to Gary as a substitute for the spring term. On a weekend visit to Minneapolis, he met Bob Hull, a U of M undergraduate. The two had a brief romance, lived together, and became lifelong friends.

In 1942, Rowland was drafted into the army. Due to a severe injury, he stayed stateside during the war. While enlisted, Rowland became a charter member of the American Veterans Committee, a liberal alternative to the American Legion. After discharge in March 1946, he showed his talent as an AVC organizer, but his active support for veterans’ bonus legislation, which the group disparaged as “handouts,” led to his being “canned” by the AVC by 1947.

While in the AVC, Rowland noted that those he knew to be communists were some of AVC’s best organizers. “I was just carried along with this feeling of liberalism and the horror of the [anti-communist] reaction that was setting in,” he said, “and my feeling was that we had to move farther and farther to the left, as a result of which I got into the Communist Party.” Rowland returned to Minneapolis and headed the CP’s Midwest youth division.* (His value as an organizer trumped any chance of being expelled under the party’s unwritten anti-gay policy.) Rowland recruited Hull into the party, and the two contemplated Rowland’s childhood dream of organizing homosexuals.

In 1948, he quit the CP and move to Los Angeles, followed by Hull. There, at a labor school, the two met a teacher, Harry Hay, who also had done some thinking about a homosexual organization.

Harry Hay was developing a blueprint for a homophile support group, but before he could show it to them, Rowland and Hull moved to Mexico in the summer of 1950, intending to relocate permanently to avoid anti-Communist witch-hunts. They returned by fall, however, and received Hay’s completed prospectus, which they eagerly shared with Hull’s new boyfriend, Dale Jennings. The three met with Hay and his lover Rudi Gernreich on Armistice Day 1950, and eventually formed the (necessarily) secretive Mattachine Society and its public nonprofit, Mattachine Foundation.

Mattachine members clockwise from top: Chuck Rowland, Konrad Stevens, unknown, Bob Hull, Jim Gruber

Rowland immersed himself in ONE Inc., writing for its magazine and directing its social services division. In 1954 he proposed that ONE open a guidance center staffed with gay counselors to mentor the waifs who found themselves alone in a new city. The project foundered, but Rowland nevertheless reported to ONE that in 1955 his division provided job placement and/or vocational counseling for nearly 100 people.

The early 60s saw Rowland involved in a possible FBI blacklisting (as both Red and gay), a failed business partnership, a dependence on intoxicants, mounting debt, and eviction. Finally, following the tragic suicide of his friend Bob Hull in May of 1962, Rowland returned to the Midwest. That summer he was hired as a credentialed high school teacher in Iowa. Obtaining his master’s degree in 1967, he chaired the theater arts department at a Minnesota college.

Upon retiring in 1982, Rowland returned to Los Angeles from his “exile,” as he put it, while admitting to “some worthy accomplishments” and meaningful relationships. In late 1982, with Jim Kepner and ex-Mattachino Martin Block, Rowland founded Celebration Theatre, billed as “the only theatre in Los Angeles dedicated exclusively to productions of gay and lesbian plays.” Kepner hosted its debut in the late spring of 1983, in his National Gay Archives.

Having been hospitalized in March 1090 with prostate cancer that proved to be terminal, Rowland “moved to Duluth where a former student fixed up a handsome apartment overlooking the lake,” according to a Kepner-penned obituary. “He spent five happy months among students and relatives….” Chuck Rowland died December 27, 1990.

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