#IBA COMPANY

[every-yumichika]

[naija247new]

Sabotage Hits Oando Pipelines Amid Rivers State Political Crisis: Is Nigeria’s Oil Heartland Under Siege?

By Naija247news Reporter Bayelsa/Nigeria – April 12, 2025 – The recent spate of coordinated sabotage attacks on Oando Plc’s key oil and gas pipelines in Bayelsa State has sent shockwaves across the Niger Delta, amid fears that the unfolding political turbulence in neighbouring Rivers State may be fueling a resurgence of militant activity in Nigeria’s oil-rich region. Oando, Nigeria’s leading…

[gallusrostromegalus]

I'm currently in the middle of moving. What are the responses/inclinations/feelings/actions of the AEIWAM and TPOFATGIF cast to being asked to help someone move house?

TPOFATGIF: "Sure!" (does not yet realize how much work this is) Atem, Marik

(frantically trying to think of a polite excuse because they know how much work this is) "I can't, its a school night." Yugi, Tristain, Bakura

Will help, but their idea of helping is to pony up the money for a moving company: Odion, Mai Valentine, Mokuba

Makes a tidy income by undercutting the moving companies, if you're willing to sign a few waivers and pay in cash: Joey, Tea

✔️✔️Read at 10:03 AM: Seto, Ishizu, Solomon

AEIWAM: "Yeah Sure!" (Does not know how much work this is): Aizen did this ONCE while under cover, Rukia, Momo,

"Yeah Sure!" (Knows how much work this is and is a Good Friend who is not afraid of hard work): Ichigo, Chad, Tatsuki, Komamura, Ikkaku, Mashiro, Iba, Isane,

"Yeah Sure! I've always wanted to go Snooping through your stuff!" Orihime (learning things about your friends is how you show you love them!) Matsumoto, Lisa, Yumichika, Omaeda

Genuinely Enjoys the organizational and physical challenge of moving house: Kensei. Really missed his calling in life.

Will help (by hiring a moving company) Mizurio, Rose, Undercover Aizen after the "Couchstuck" incident Byakuya, Yoruichi, Nanao, Sasakibe

Will Help (You'd be better off without their help) Keigo, Gin, Shinji, Shunsui, Urahara, Yachiru, Shuuhei, Renji, Izuru

Can't help, but would really like to be asked sometime: Tousen (Major Spinal Injury, Ukitake (Imploding Lungs)

"No." Uryuu, Yamamoto, Soi Fon, Unohana, Mayuri, Akon, Hiyori,

Is bewildered that anyone might own enough stuff that they need help moving it: Zaraki (Was homeless for several centuries and has never purchased furniture. It's just something that is in whatever place he's staying, its there.)

[brittscafe]

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬

Pairing: Male captains x gn! reader.

Summary: Male captains future on marriages.

Request: i just had a talk w my friend about mirages and stuff so i wanted to ask if male captains lineup (10 years skip at end of manga and instead of Iba please include Yumichika!) would want to be married ever? like do they thinks it’s normal or simply don’t care/want, a lot of love from me! 🧡

A/n: Heyyyy!! I love this, so cute <3

Content: Pure fluff, talk of marriages.

Ko-fi link (anything is appreciated <3)

Shunsui:

Hmmm, maybe.

It honestly depends, it has to be someone who's really got to tie him down.

He always says he doesn't want to be tie down by a significant other, but deep down, he would love to be married.

I can def see him not as caring as much tho as he likes to go with the flow.

It's one of those things he would cherish if it did happen.

Byakuya:

He has conflicted feelings about marriages.

Even since he lost Hisana, he hasn't thought about another soul and hasn't planned on it.

If Byakuya were to find another someone he could love as much as he loved Hisana...the thought of marriage would cross his mind.

Now, it would take him a long time and many years to eventually get married.

He's not against the thought of getting married again, but it's definitely not something he's looking to do anytime soon.

Rojuro:

oh my god, yessss!!

I could see him wanting and yearning to be married on day.

He just wants someone to hold at the end of the day and play his guitar for.

Rojuro daydreams about having someone that he can take care of one day and provide for.

Since all of his time in the world of the living, he sees marriage as a very normal thing and would love it very much.

Toshiro:

On the surface level, he doesn't care about getting married.

He's independent and claims he doesn't need anyone, scoffing and rolling his eyes.

On a deeper level, Toshiro would loveee to have someone and spend his future with.

It's something that he thinks is pretty normal and he deeply cares about.

He's always looking and putting himself out there for a marriage, but also tries to hide it at the same time...

Kenpachi:

He couldn't care less about getting married nor does he really want to.

He's focused on getting stronger and being the best in the soul society.

Kenpachi would have enough company with one night stands or little flings, not feeling the need to ever get married.

Kensei:

Yesss, omg he would love to get married and really wants to.

Like he dreams about getting married one day.

He's a really tough guy on the outside, but is a softie on the inside and I firmly believe that.

Yumichikia:

I could see him be opposed to it at first, then slowly warming up to wanting to get married.

Grimaces in disgust at the thought of marriage at first.

Takes him awhile to warm up to it, like many years and he has to find the right person.

Once he finds the right person, thoughts of marriage start to cross his mind.

Could def see him getting married if he finds the right person.

[sgiandubh]

Anon rebelde.

¿ En serio alguien pensaba que al finalizar el rodaje esto iba a ser pasto del aburrimiento ?

La promoción de NY no necesita más conversación, la interacción entre Sam y Cait habla por si sola por mucho que Mordor se empeñe en echar balones fuera pero llega el ultimo día de rodaje y firman que aquí acaba todo, cada uno por su lado, después de todo su relación solo se basa en el trabajo pero ¡¡¡¡¡ SORPRESA !!!!! Sam tiene un acto marcado con la etiqueta de negocio y su compañera de trabajo, después de un día de muchas emociones que pide calma y relax, aparece en el. Vamos a pensar que como ella también está en el negocio del alcohol va para tomar nota pero ¿ donde esta su "socio" en el ? La aparición de Cait en la fiesta del primer aniversario de Thegardensheddrinksco acompañada de su "socio" caballero con claros signos de pasar mucho frío a pesar de los looks más veraniegos del resto de asistentes, levantó una buena polvadera por qué era normal que asistieran juntos, entonces ¿ Porque el no asiste a este si todo está relacionado con el negocio del alcohol ?

Dear (returning) Anon Rebelde,

Gracias por los excelentes comentarios que haces aquí. Siempre es Navidad cuando envías algo, así que me apresuro a traducirlo:

'Did anyone really think that the end of filming was going to be boring?

The NY promotion doesn't need any more discussions, the interaction between Sam and Cait speaks for itself no matter how much Mordor insists with the blaming game, but the last day of filming arrives and they are adamant that this is where it all ends, each one on their own, after all their relationship is only based on work. But SURPRISE!!!!! Sam has a business event and his coworker shows up there, after a day of many emotions that requires calm and relaxation. Therefore, we could think that since she's also in the alcohol business she showed up to make some contacts, but where's her "partner"? Cait's appearance at The Garden Shed Drinks Co's first anniversary party, accompanied by her gentleman "partner" with clear signs of being very cold, despite the more summery looks of the rest of the attendees, raised quite a stir because it was normal for them to attend together. So why didn't he attend this one if everything is related to alcohol business?'

And just like this, boom! A lightbulb moment, here.

This. This is the million-dollar question: 'why didn't he attend this one if everything is related to alcohol business?'

Exactly. Where is the Director/Secretary/Director of several British and Irish companies, either in-common or separately owned, dealing with alcohol or pubs (LOOOOL)?

The answer is in those damn papers, of course. But there are none so blind than those who wouldn't see.

So, let me sum up the reasoning panic attack across the street:

Stage 1: filming just ended. She will go back to the Glasgow Taj Mahal with no double glazed windows and that's it. He will endlessly get drunk in some random sleazy bar with or without that incompetent saleswoman. They hate each other. So long, farewell, auf Wiedersehen, adieu. And oh - he is, of course, gay.

Stage 2: ugh, another booze related event in Glasgow, featuring S and his permanent shilling, I am not giving this the light of day. Perhaps nobody will notice?

Stage 3: Queen C would never attend that sordid event, especially when the Peasant is shilling his booze. Nope. Over her dead body.

Stage 4: 🚨🚨🚨there was a woman in that car 🚨🚨. I repeat: 🚨🚨🚨there was a woman in that car 🚨🚨🚨. We know who she is [insert random name here], oh my (pearls sway), he has no shame!!!

Stage 5: there was no woman in that car.

Stage 6: there was a woman in that car, but I am going to fix myself some hot cocoa and fuck you all. In my world, the Eiffel Tower can be a Twinkie. Or the other way round.

Stage 7: confirmation that C attended the event. I have been called out for hiding things. I am, therefore, a victim. I am starting the drama, full cycle. Divert, divert, divert attention. Engage!

Stage 8: this was an OL-related event. The second wrap-up party. No, this was a common friend's birthday. No, this was... ok, this was an after work thing. Nooooo....

Stage 9: there has been an, as yet unexplained, shortage of babysitters in Glasgow on Friday October 25th, 2024. Fathers babysit. That is modern enough and hopefully that avoids more inconvenient questions. Right?

Stage 10: let's quickly post something about irrelevant social media statistics. No, nope, no, I am not unsettled by anything. Nope.

Stage 11: nobody brought his/her better half. Fact.

Stage 12: they are co-workers.

Stage 13: everything happened because of the Shippers.

[vavuska]

Imane Khelif.

In 2018 AIBA Women's World Boxing Championships, Khelif participated for the first time, where she ranked 17th after being eliminated from the first round.

In the 2019 AIBA Women's World Boxing Championships held in Russia, where she ranked 33rd after being eliminated from the first round against Natalia Shadrina.

Khelif represented Algeria in the lightweight event at the 2020 Summer Olympics in Tokyo. She was defeated by Ireland's Kellie Harrington in the quarterfinals.

Khelif participated in the 2022 IBA Women's World Boxing Championships, she faced Ireland's Amy Broadhurst in the final and was defeated.

She is not a warmachine. Khelif is a biological woman. Khelif is NOT transgender or transsexual. In Algeria, the country that Khelif represents, transgender identity is prohibited, changing sex or gender is not allowed in official documents, nor are medical or hormonal treatments allowed to transition to another sex. If she was transgender, Khelif would not be able to rapresent her country at all nor travel with an official passport with a female identity!

However, pop up this rumor she was disqualified from 2023 IBA's Women's World Boxing Championships due to high levels of testosterone. Later this was debunked by the same organization. Potentially, could be doping and it was all covered up by sport industry.

Edit: This disqualification happened three days after Khelif defeated Azalia Amineva, a previously unbeaten Russian athlete. The disqualification restored the Russian boxer's undefeated record and IBA has huge ties with the Russian government: the president Kremlev is a Putin supporter and the International Olympic Committee (IOC) expressed concerns about the IBA under Kremlev's leadership. The IOC has also been alarmed by the fact that the IBA's only sponsor was a Russian state-owned energy company (Gazprom) that supports the Russian invasion of Ukraine. Imane Khelif is a UNICEF ambassador, which could again have been seen as a problem by Russian-led IBA, since UNICEF condemned Russian invasion of Ukraine. IBA's allegations that Khelif had failed unspecified eligibility tests are suspicious, expecially because no medical evidence that Khelif has XY chromosomes or elevated levels of testosterone has been published.

The International Olympic Committee (IOC), cleared Khelif to compete in the 2024 Summer Olympics in Paris, confirming that she complied with all necessary eligibility and medical regulations for the event. The IOC noted that Khelif was a woman according to her passport and that this was not a "transgender issue".

She defeated Angela Carini in 42 seconds at the 2024 Olympics, after Carini decided to withdraw citing intense pain in her nose.

This remember me the 'Caster Semenya' case: after Semenya's victory at the 2009 World Championships, she was made to undergo sex testing, and cleared to return to competition the following year. The decision to perform sex testing sparked controversy in the sporting world and in Semenya's home country of South Africa. Later reports disclosed that Semenya has the intersex condition 5α-reductase 2 deficiency and natural testosterone levels in the typical male range.

In 2019, new World Athletics rules came into force preventing athletes like Semenya with certain disorders of sex development (DSDs) from participating in 400m, 800m, and 1500m events in the female classification, unless they take medication to suppress their testosterone levels. Semenya has filed a series of legal cases to restore her ability to compete in these events without testosterone suppression, arguing that the World Athletics rules are discriminatory.

As Khelif, Semenya is cis and has been accused by many people to be trans. Her story has, again, been used and abused to support the anti-trans agenda, claiming that two ciswomen are trans and are unfairly competing with women due to their superior "men strength".

I think Angela Carini was anxious and scared by days of reporter and far-right rumors about how Khelif is incredibly strong and unbeatable, even if Carini has better statistics and more victories in her career than Khelif herself (who was already a Olympics athlete), she was strumentalized by far-right propaganda and made a scene during the match due to anti-trans panic.

J. K. Rowling and Elon Musk, as always, had their small moment of shaming athletes. Most of people think that Carini has been strumentalized by anti-trans Italian propaganda and after being called out for harassing a cisgender woman, she claimed to be sorry for not having respected her adversary during the match.

Edit: more important thoughts on the matter in a detailed political perspective in Italy - A New York Times article develops more extensively what I wrote here.

https://www.nytimes.com/2024/08/01/world/olympics/boxer-quits-gender-angela-carini-imane-khelif.html?smid=threads-nytimes

Edit 2: Imane Khelif spoke against cyberbullism.

Edit 3: Since in those past days we talked a lot about cis women being called men for not meeting western TERFs standard, I should resurface this old post about how a group of Chinese cis runners were wrongfully called "men" by TERFs.

Edit 4: Elon Musk and J.K. Rowling have been named in the cyberbullying lawsuit filed by Olympic champion Imane Khelif.

Edit 5 - 13th Sept. 2024: Imane Khelif interview

Edit 6 - 13th Sept. 2024: Imane Khelif won gold medal in boxing. Appreciation post.

[every-yumichika]

[zstartrixxx]

𝔖𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔳𝔢 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔇𝔢𝔳𝔦𝔩, 𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔡 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔊𝔬𝔡

ᵛᵃᵐᵖᶦʳᵉᵈᵉᵐᵒⁿꜝʳᵉᵐᵐᶦᶜᵏ × ˡᵃᵗᶦⁿᵃꜝᵒᶜ

fanfic index!

𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝕴𝕴 - 𝕻𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖉𝖆 𝕷𝖚𝖓𝖆

Noche divina, perfume místico / plegaria íntima de mi pasión / y sella un coro de mis cantares / cuando a mi amada en sueño santo / iba a turbar (palida luna, lydia mendonza)

𝔓𝔯𝔢𝔳𝔦𝔬𝔲𝔰 𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱

𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱'𝔰 𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: blood kink, some weirdness behaviour, and quotes from catholic/religious elements, heresy & profanation.

"You see!? This is what I always tell you, mi hija! The longer you take to marry and get pregnant, the more rules you'll have and the worse they'll become... It's in our blood. The curse of the Dollores women like you."

"Then why the hell was I baptized with that name!?"

"Watch your mouth, woman! And you know very well it was only because of a promise your father and I made—" Dulce watched with tired eyes as her mother's arms moved back and forth, pressing her nightgown against the wooden washboard, homemade bar soap foaming heavily as she threw handfuls of baking soda to bleach the red stain gradually dissolving in the warm water. Dulce's legs still felt weak, the cramps coming in waves that squeezed her uterus, blood trickling out hourly. She hated menstruating, hated the pain, hated having a uterus that bled monthly. But above all, she loathed the seven days of her mother's lamentations and reprimands while having to pray with her grandmother to purify the sins committed by Eve and all who shared her name.

The matriarch paused, wiping the sweat from her brow, and looked at her daughter with bitterness:

"The Dollores women in our family have not only borne the burden of being chosen by the Enemy but also the curse of infertility in their bodies. But it won't be like that for you, Dulce. For I pray to God every day that He sends you a good, decent, honest man who can break this curse and bring us—bring you—complete happiness."

"How altruistic of you, mami..."

"Don't you sass me! I didn't raise you to be rude. It's that Dakota girl and her crowd that's made you so rebellious," she sneered, wrinkling her nose in disgust. Dulce rolled her eyes, exhausted by how viciously her mother spoke of Dakota and her kind.

"Have you forgotten we're more outcast than them in these lands? We're invaders to the men you and Dad want me to marry. We're not welcome here, and acting superior won't make them accept you either."

She turned her back and entered the empty house smelling of dust and boiled corn. Passing through the hallway connecting the kitchen to her grandmother's room, she heard the old woman's frail, muffled voice calling her. Dulce walked to her room, flinging the door open to the stuffy air scented with talcum powder and burnt candles—her grandmother's signature smells.

The room was small compared to the others—once her mother and eldest sister's sewing room—a modest rectangle fitting only the grandmother's single bed (formerly Lupita's) with its carved wooden frame, a large leather chest dyed dark red at its foot, a small dresser by the bedside holding a candle lamp, a tiny Bible, and a plaster angel guarding the old woman's sleep. A simple two-door wardrobe stood a few feet away, and a single square window, always slightly ajar—never fully open to keep evil spirits out, nor fully closed to let divine light seep through the gap. The brownish-red curtains kept the outside light perpetually dim.

Dulce loved this room.

She loved its warmth, its smells, how it felt separate from the world. Most of all, she cherished her grandmother's company, even when the old woman was asleep or agitated by whatever troubled her mind. Approaching her now—white hair spilling over the bedside, wrinkled lips parted, black eyes wide open—Dulce sensed this visit would be different. She smiled gently, sitting beside the bed, taking her grandmother's icy hand in her own youthful softness, whispering tenderly:

"¿Qué quieres, abuela?" ("What do you want, grandma?”)

“Tú... tú lo dejaste entrar…” ("You... you let him in…”)

"¿Qué quieres decir con eso, abuela? ¡No dejo entrar a nadie aquí, y mucho menos a ningún hombre!" ("What do you mean by that, grandma? I don't let anyone in here, much less any man!”)

"Dollores... My sweet Dollores—" The old woman squeezed her hand, squinting to better see her granddaughter's face—"you were corrupted by the Devil the moment you let him into your soul. Now that he's tasted your blood, all he wants is to possess you. Us. The souls of those burned alive, who bled trying to escape men's horrors... ¡Brujas! ¡Brujas! ¡Brujas!"

Her voice sharpened into a frenzy. Dulce stifled the tears she hadn't shed during the dream—when pleasure had overridden grief.

"No! Grandma, stop! I'm not guilty! It was just a dream—" She tried to rise, but the old woman clutched her hand tighter.

"¡Bruja! That's what he wants! The Devil will come for you! ¡Bruja!" ("Witches! Witches! Witches!”)

"No! I didn't do anything wrong— I—" Her voice broke into a sob as the door flew open behind her. Her mother burst in screaming, separating them, glaring at Dulce:

"Look what you've done! Get out! OUT!"

"¡Bruja! ¡Bruja!"; "Mami, I didn't do anything, I just—"; "Leave, Dulce Dollores!"

Swallowing her sobs, Dulce nodded and turned away.

Her grandmother kept screaming "¡Brujas!" as her mother begged her to stop. Dulce stepped outside, legs unsteady, chest heaving in the too-pure air, cramps worsening. Before her lay the isolation of their property—surrounded by dense forest, the dirt road ahead, flashes of Remmick in her memory like an idyllic dream of a man who dances, enchants, is dangerous and malicious. Yet also the Beast who emerges from darkness, begs entry, drinks blood, and delivers pleasure through the pain of corruption. Dulce's heart clenched again, blood pulsing hot in her veins, fear swelling as the wind hissed whispers that perhaps he was right. Perhaps she was a wanderer with no destination, from nowhere, seeking to belong somewhere.

"What the hell are you thinking, Dulce!? Stop it." She hit her head once, twice, three times. She stared down the road, so tempting beyond their gate.

⛧°. ⋆༺♱༻⋆. °⛧

"That man was truly strange, Doll. We never want him or his nomadic little gang around here again..."

"Absolutely! That kind of outsider comes and goes—we owe them minimal courtesy... But what were you saying about Sukie and her two cousins?"

"Well, after you left and Remmick returned minutes later, claiming he needed to check something, he spoke with them. Next thing we knew, all four had vanished. No word since..."

"You don't think—" Dulce's eyes widened. Dakota shook her head:

"Oh, no! We won't assume the worst... Maybe they gave him a ride. He said he was just passing through, heading to Nebraska."

"So Sukie and her cousins decided to go back there? Just like that? With a stranger?"

"Yes. That's what we choose to believe, Doll..." Dakota shrugged, pulling a hand-rolled cigarette from her yellow button-up shirt, lighting it with a match: "Mostly, I'm relieved he's gone and you're here with me."

Dulce smiled, accepting the cigarette, inhaling the sweet tobacco that further relaxed her muscles. At Dakota's house, sitting on the front porch steps, she sipped an aluminum cup of thick herbal tea Dakota's mother had given her for the cramps—already working. She'd also changed the cotton pad between her legs, feeling cleaner. As the sun set, uncertainty about the coming days weighed on Dulce. Breaking the silence, Dakota asked:

"Want to stay with me these days? We'll take my cousin's car, go out, have fun..."

"Better not—" Dulce replied sharply, exhaling smoke skyward at the orange clouds: "Mom will want me bedridden for menstruating."

"You're just bleeding between your legs—it's nothing."

"Not to her." Dulce met Dakota's gaze: "Things are tense at home. I should behave."

"So no dances or even services?"

"No clever lies," Dulce wrapped an arm around her friend, smiling fondly: "At least not yet..."

For a moment, Dulce considered sharing her strange dream, complaining about her superstitious grandmother, how everything felt upside-down in her stagnant life. But she stayed silent, deciding some things were better buried than burdening her best friend. They smiled, speaking volumes without words. With Dakota, Dulce found peace.

⛧°. ⋆༺♱༻⋆. °⛧

Sleep didn't come easily to Dollores that night. Legs tightly crossed under the vivid red quilt, night was no longer just darkness, cricket songs, or starlight. Now it meant nightmares, torment, calls from beyond. She feared closing her eyes—he might materialize before her—yet keeping them open risked seeing him lurking in her room. Even with a candle flickering weakly beside her, its flame trembling at her every move, she felt afraid. Perhaps light made the danger greater.

Then she remembered her grandmother's murmured prayers from childhood—kneeling before an altar of weeping saints with spear-pierced hearts, a twisted Christ crowned in thorns, blood dripping—as the younger grandmother prayed her black-beaded rosary while Dulce pretended to join. Now it was her turn to pray, or try.

Clasping her hands beneath the covers, she whispered:

"My good and merciful God, keep me from all evil in this world, keep me from the Devil, may my guardian angel protect me, and may I find freedom from my sins, please, please, please..." She repeated it until breathless, until her eyes grew heavy, until darkness enveloped her in dreamless sleep—a brief, death-like stillness where peace seemed to dwell in her body at last.

That night.

⛧°. ⋆༺♱༻⋆. °⛧

On the second day of her period, Dulce woke up feeling more energetic. Before stepping into the tub filled with hot water for her morning bath, she noticed the blood was still abundant and bright red, and she still felt a dull ache in her lower abdomen. But just having had a peaceful night's sleep, embraced only by the darkness, brought her relief. Breakfast was immersed in silence between her, her mother, and her father—who was merely a visitor in her life, spending most days working under sun and rain, traveling to neighboring towns to sell his harvest, visiting relatives and friends across Alabama and Louisiana. Sometimes her mother would go along to visit their married daughters and grandson, while also gossiping about the stagnant life of their middle daughter, the unlucky one who hadn't fulfilled her natural destiny. Dulce was already planning to spend another afternoon with Dakota, maybe helping her with work on her property, when her mother's voice caught her attention:

"Tomorrow night, we're having a very special guest."

"Who's coming? Lupita? Or Lupe?" A flicker of hope crossed Dulce's face, but it was quickly replaced by suspicion when she saw her mother's stern expression. Her mother glanced at her father, nodding for him to take over. He cleared his throat loudly, sipped his hot coffee, and spoke while looking at his daughter:

"I met a good young man willing to marry a Tejana like you, daughter. Your mother and I talked a few nights ago, and after yesterday... we decided to invite him for dinner—just dinner, nothing more. But God willing, and He surely is, you two will marry soon... A fine young man, really. Decent. Even handsome."

"What?" Her voice was thin, a whispered breath, her eyes wide with horror. The matriarch spoke firmly:

"There's no more time for choosing, daughter. No more nights of fun. Now, more than ever, we must see you married, with children, moving away..."

"So that's it!? You just want me gone!? If this is about yesterday with Grandma, I swear it was nothing! She's been acting crazy—you know that!"

"There's no use arguing, Dulce Dollores," her mother interjected, arms crossed. Her father's eyes were distant, as if he weren't even there, just as exhausted as Dulce. "You will marry. That's final."

Dulce held back her tears, once again feeling herself detach from her own body.

As soon as she finished eating, she stormed upstairs to her room, throwing herself onto the bed and clutching a pillow tightly. Hot tears streamed down her face, repressed anger burning in her chest. She turned to stare at the ceiling:

"Weak! Weak! You don’t do anything! You just stay silent and take it! Stupid, how can you be like this!? God… Please, give me a sign. A sign of freedom—that I can be who I am, who I want to be, without being tied to anyone. To no man."

She squeezed her eyes shut, thick tears soaking her pillowcase. Gradually, her sobs subsided, her breathing steadied, and her twisted expression softened—until she was swallowed by darkness, a cold chill seeping into her flesh.

In the distance, laughter. The creak of wood. A metallic scent flooding her lungs.

She rubbed her eyes before opening them, lifting her head just enough to see him sitting in an old rocking chair—the monster he truly was. Blood glistened around his mouth, a cruel smirk revealing sharp teeth. His once-white shirt was now stained crimson, even the silver chain around his neck smeared with wet scarlet. Remmick was the Devil incarnate, come to claim her soul—Dulce felt it in her bones, in her flesh, in the blood pounding in her heart.

"I see you slept well last night, Sleeping Beauty. Dream of angels?" He tilted his head, those two red orbs glowing in the dark.

"Stop talking to me, Demon! I won’t fall for your traps!" Dulce sat up, eyes wide with fear and shock at the man’s deceptively sweet, calm voice. Beneath the lamb’s skin, the wolf revealed itself—a true bloodthirsty hunter. Where had all that blood come from?

"I’m just a projection of your desires, darling. A waking dream of your deepest yearnings… With me, you can break free from everything and everyone. Just let me in, and I will become you, and you will become me. Isn’t that wonderful, hmm?"

"No. It’s monstrous. I can’t—"

"Oh, but you can, dear Dulce. Just accept your true self, and I’m sure your prayers will finally reach your absent God."

His movements were serpentine—fascinating, terrifying. He rose from the chair with unnatural grace, his heavy footsteps bringing him to her bed, where the shadows swallowed him whole, leaving only those blood-glowing eyes. She was certain he was smiling, that thick saliva dripped from his lips, that his stench of dried blood was intoxicating. He paused beside her, watching in silence before sitting next to her like a mother tucking in her child. Half his face was faintly illuminated by the dying candlelight. Dulce recoiled, disgusted by the scent of blood and death, but Remmick didn’t pull away. Instead, his blood-crusted hand—claws sharp—drifted to her thigh, caressing her soft skin with eerie tenderness. His voice was almost affectionate:

"I know how hard it is to have your past violated by those who only care for themselves. I’ve walked this earth longer than your grandparents, your great-grandparents… But honestly, Dulce, when I first saw you, when I glimpsed your soul, I recognized something rare—something I deeply desire." His hand slid up to her knee, squeezing lightly as his darkened eyes locked onto hers. "This kind of supernatural power, passed from grandmother to mother, mother to daughter… so few possess it. So few souls truly connect to the gods of the past, the present, the unshakable faith of the future. And I want it. Oh, darling, you have no idea how badly I want it." His grin turned predatory. "You will be my divine gift."

Dulce stayed silent, her mind reeling, intoxicated by the scent of blood, the certainty that something worse awaited her. She felt Remmick—or whatever this was—lean closer, his rust-scented breath like sweetened liquor, inviting her to kiss him. His bloodied hand rose to her waist, gripping and pulling her in. His lips brushed hers in a shallow, dreamlike kiss—unnatural, stiff. Dulce closed her eyes slowly as his voice hissed against her mouth:

"Just accept my humble request, and I’ll give you the greatest gift this world has to offer, Dulce."

Being embraced by Death didn’t seem so bad. Not in that moment.

⛧°. ⋆༺♱༻⋆. °⛧

The fateful day had arrived. Her third day of menstruation was usually calmer—yet her body seemed to have revolted against itself, torrents of blood between her legs, the cramping coming and going, twisting her uterus, while her mind remained clouded.

Perhaps she had merely suffered a wretched encounter with a stranger that night, internalizing the pain of her wounded ego and transforming the outsider into a kind of monstrous savior who now haunted her sleepless nights. She could still smell blood on her lips, a chill on her nape, a desperate urge to take refuge from the pitch-black night.

She considered visiting her best friend, but her plans were thwarted when her mother gently insisted she stay put, sewing the final stitches on a flared skirt for a dress—a classic Texan design. So, with the patience of Job, she rocked back and forth, watching the needle plunge into the cotton fabric, the red thread binding the pieces together, as her parents exchanged pleasantries: her mother bustling over the feast, her father leaning by the doorway with his pipe. Dulce’s chair rested against the doorframe leading to the hallway, the door to her grandmother’s room wide open, revealing the elderly woman seated with her back turned, eyes fixed on the ceiling. She hadn’t mustered the courage to face her grandmother since the incident. Yet she still stole glances, monitoring her condition from afar.

Her ears caught a topic of interest between her parents:

“I heard there’s been a wave of gruesome deaths around these parts. Entire families wiped out, bodies gone missing… A nightmare.”

“¡Por Cristo misericordioso! I pray we’re safe under Your protection… And how were these bodies found!?” ("For the merciful Christ! I hope we are protected in your safety…”) Her mother paused mid-potato chop, staring at her husband, who took a slow drag, his expression grim:

“Best not to know. From what I’ve heard, it’s the stuff of those lurid tales the local men love to scribble about…”

“You mean they were torn apart?” Dulce’s curious eyes locked onto her father’s face. “Like some animal—a wolf, maybe—slit their throats and drained their blood?”

“How’d you know that, girl!?” Her father furrowed his brow as her mother crossed herself, whispering, “Creo en Dios Padre…” Dulce shook her head and resumed sewing:

“Dunno. Just popped into my head.”

“That sort of thing doesn’t just ‘pop up.’ You been reading what you shouldn’t, missy? Or is Dakota filling your head with boogeyman tales?” Her father scolded, genuinely unsettled. Dulce sighed, closing her eyes, regretting her slip of the tongue. The name Remmick flickered in her mind, but she shoved it aside:

“No, Papi. Just heard some things at Dak’s place the other day… Thought it might be the same case.”

“Hmph.” Her father grunted, exhaling a long plume of smoke, exchanging a look with his wife. “All I know is it’s too dangerous here. That’s why we’re leaving for your sister Lupe’s at dawn. She’s due soon, and we want the family together. Safety in numbers.”

“So this whole dinner’s pointless?” Dulce’s question was genuine—a flicker of hope in her eyes at the thought of escaping the pressure to marry. But her mother’s voice cut like a blade between her pounding heart and tense lungs:

“No, Dulce. No. And even if tonight’s suitor doesn’t work out, we’ll find another. Whatever it takes.”

Night fell in its characteristic dark veil, pierced by sovereign stars. Dulce leaned against her bedroom window, praying the suitor wouldn’t come—that he’d meet some accident, some twist of fate. Or, in her most secret thought, that Remmick would appear and steal her from this bittersweet life. A knock snapped her from her trance, her waking dreams of a hopeful soul shattered by her mother’s voice announcing the guest’s arrival.

She descended the stairs, step by step, gripping the hem of her red-and-yellow floral chita skirt, listening to the animated male voices in the kitchen. Her mother greeted her with the widest smile she’d seen in months and led her to the kitchen, where her father sat across a blond-haired man, nearly white, his back to her.

“Mr. Saint Paul, this is our daughter, Dulce Dollores! Dulce, this is Jeremy Saint Paul.” Her father’s affected smile gestured to the pale man, whose large, glassy green eyes seemed drugged by the woman before him. With exaggerated flourish, he introduced himself, complimented her beauty, and mangled a Spanish phrase—grating to Dulce’s ears. Throughout dinner, his lingering stares clung to her.

Dessert arrived, and with it, the inevitable topic:

“I’m the son of a prominent Texas judge. Unmarried, no bastards—” He laughed at his own stale joke, echoed by her parents’ forced chuckles. “I’m a man of honor. I’d never lie with a lady without first making her my wife. Lawfully, before God and men. Veil, vows, and all.”

He waited for Dulce’s reaction.

She dabbed her lips with a napkin, staring at her mother’s cake, avoiding his gaze.

“What brings you to these parts, Mr. Saint Paul?”

“Oh, an unexpected question!”

“Jeremy, you needn’t answer. Our girl’s tongue runs loose—nothing a good correction won’t fix…” Her mother interjected, but the visitor’s eyes sparkled:

“No, no! I’d be delighted to answer.” He smiled cordially at Dulce, whose attention now fixed on his elongated face, thin lips, and narrow nose—the look of a man clueless about life. Unlike him. Jeremy puffed with pride:

“As I said, my father sent me as his attorney to investigate these… peculiar crimes across Mississippi and neighboring states. Strange deaths, disappearances—the sort.”

“And you’re not afraid? Traveling alone in God’s lands, hunting monsters?” Her mother’s genuine concern masked a plea for Dulce to feign interest. Jeremy smirked:

“Not at all, ma’am! With man’s law and God in my heart, no harm shall touch me.”

“Any suspects?” Dulce asked.

“Not yet. But soon, this fiend—whatever it is—will face justice.”

Dulce smiled.

Not because she believed the poor fool, but because she knew the monster haunting her would annihilate him. A icy breath crept up her neck, a whisper in a tongue only she understood: ‘I await you.’

That night, no infernal visitor haunted her dreams—not exactly. But in the shadowed corners of her sleep, she saw Dollores women weeping as the Catholic Inquisition judged them for unspeakable crimes: witchcraft, paganism. Children torn from homes, thrown into pyres. Their screams enveloped her as she walked toward her bed, lying in immaculate sleep. Outside, hidden, Remmick stood unwavering, waiting for a lost soul to claim. And ahead, in a not-so-distant future, after his travels from the Carolinas, banjo in hand, trailed by vampire kin, Remmick materialized at the sound of divine blood, screams, fire—saints and demons entwined as she walked away from herself.

⛧°. ⋆༺♱༻⋆. °⛧

"I'm going to spend some time with my parents at Lupe's house, Dakie..."

Dakota looked at her with one of those sorrowful gazes, hands shoved in her fabric pants, voluminous loose hair framing her face. Dulce heard herself say these last days had been pure hell for her and her entire family; indeed, Sukie and her cousins had vanished, others from their assembly had disappeared too, and fear had left their community wary of continuing religious celebrations or parties in their barn. Deep down, Dulce knew who was responsible for such savagery. With a long sigh, Dakie leaned her head against the porch beam:

"First my cousins, now you're leaving me... History repeats itself, huh?"

"Don't be dramatic, Dakie—I'll just be gone a few weeks." She lied. Dulce knew her parents planned not just to relocate near her younger sister but to marry her off there. Dakota smirked skeptically:

"And what about their crazy plan to arrange your marriage?"

"Nothing came of it," Dulce hugged the opposite beam, staring at the horizon. "I think they've accepted I'm a lost cause."

"Well, then our promise still stands, right?" Dakota asked with genuine warmth. Dulce looked at her, lost in memory:

"What promise?"

"That we'd spend eternity together."

⛧°. ⋆༺♱༻⋆. °⛧

Spending the day at her sister's house—eight hours from home—was easy. The hard part would be surviving the night, haunted by the latent fear of him appearing at any moment. She clung to her younger sister's skirts like a frightened child, eyeing every corner, especially the sun slowly sinking below the horizon, yielding to the dark night sky, the bright moon rising sovereign above them, distant howls and unrecognizable whispers. At the dinner table, surrounded by parents, grandmother rocking in her chair, Lupe and her husband, the conversation flowed pleasantly.

"Heard that gang of white men hunting Blacks and Mexicans vanished overnight recently."

"Well, whoever did it rid us of those bastard sons of bitches!" Her father spat, drawing laughter from the table—except Dulce, who tensed at the thought of the demon pursuing her even here. Lupe looked at her older sister, chin propped on her palm:

"I hear we'll soon have another family wedding!"

"Who told you that?"

"No one..." She winked at their mother. "Un pajarito cantó en mi oído por la mañana."

Dulce glared at her mother, cheeks burning.

Then she resentfully turned to the window behind the matriarch, where in the twilight she swore she saw two incandescent red dots fixed on her. Her chest froze as that familiar heart-squeezing dread returned.

Only this time, sharper.

⛧°. ⋆༺♱༻⋆. °⛧

Dulce spent that night pacing the guest room, trying not to wake the household. Every hour, she peered through the curtain crack at the closed window, searching for something—someone—behind the glass. But there was nothing. Nothing.

Her cycle was ending; her intrinsic blood grew frail, the pains had subsided, yet her vitality withered daily under this torturous yearning. Her soul begged for the infernal kiss.

She knew she was delirious—but where do delusion and lucidity meet until both become truth? Where was she truly safe? Were those bizarre dreams really the devil coming to tempt her, or was she so insignificant in her quest for freedom that she'd invented it all?

Her blurred reflection stared back from the window—shadowed eyes, lips twisted in a mournful smile. She whispered the prayer to herself:

"This god I invented doesn't answer. This pain won't release me. Everything is an illusion, and if I could, perhaps I'd truly accept belonging to death and the freedom it might offer."

The night stayed silent as the answers to her prayers.

That terrified her more than the devil visiting her room.

⛧°. ⋆༺♱༻⋆. °⛧

"Daughter... Your father and I decided you'll return home."

"Just like that? I've barely been here two days—"

"Don't question. Just obey. It's for the best."

Dulce raised a skeptical brow but nodded vehemently, accepting her fate. Perhaps her whispered prayer had been heard, bringing peace through this sudden return. She packed her few belongings into her father's cart for the dusty, barren journey home. They arrived at dusk, and watching her father leave alone tormented Dulce more than traveling solo—knowing what might stalk those roads. Her grandmother retreated to her room, leaving the house drowned in hot, empty silence.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Slow, precise raps.

Dulce, waiting on the stairs, stared at the door. Her heart raced, blood pooling in her skull as if she hung upside-down. The knocks came again—louder, urgent. Trembling hands lifted her as she crept to the door, pressing an ear against it. Nothing. Just the vast silence of nowhere. Not even a breath.

Dulce closed her eyes, recalling the faceless shadow with ruby eyes from her waking dreams. Her sweaty palm gripped the icy knob while the other fumbled the key, feeling the metal's roughness. Her heart climbed into her throat; her ears burned from pressing against the wood—until a voice called:

"Dulce... Doll, it's me."

She didn't hesitate to unlock and fling the door open, relief twisting to horror at what awaited.

It was Dakota. But not her Dakie.

Standing with a distorted smile, fangs exposed, crimson eyes glowing under a bloodstained white shirt and black suit jacket. This wasn't her friend anymore.

"What did he do to you!?"

"So good to see you too, Doll!"

"You're not the Dakota I know— No—" Dulce shook her head. The creature before her clasped gloved hands, now stained with dried blood, and nodded:

"You're right! Since he promised me freedom—a world where we're all equal—I've never felt more alive!"

"Dakota, why let him do this!?"

"It wasn't exactly comfortable. Some died. Others converted. But now I see what human life could never show me."

"Dakota—"

"That I love you. So I want you to join me in this endless walk. There'll be blood, but you'll adapt. Just let me in."

Dulce faced Dakota's morbid grin. This wasn't the woman she loved—just a hollow husk mimicking her. She shook her head:

"If you think I'll surrender to lies, leave. I'll face death before becoming a bloodsucking monster."

"You were never a good liar, Doll. Now that he's bitten me, he knows you better than you know yourself. This time, he won't be gentle." Dakota slid hands into pockets. "He won't let you escape. Not now."

"GET OUT!"

Dulce screamed through tears. Dakota paused—a flicker of something human in those dark, pearl-red eyes—before smiling again.

"If you want it the hard way, so be it. See you soon, my Doll. Eternity together will be... delightful."

Dulce slammed the door, sobbing, back sliding down the wood as her grandmother's frail voice asked what happened. She could only shake her head at this nightmare, helpless. Curled on the floor, arms around knees, she listened to her own wretched whimpers and the voices whispering she'd invited this—let him inside her, let him drain her blood from within, haunting her dreams like Lucifer cast down to walk among men. Her sins personified. Or just a folkloric monster claiming what it desired.

Then she remembered the old book her grandmother gave her at seven. Stumbling upstairs, she rummaged through a chest of forgotten dolls and baby clothes until she found the black-bound volume, its cover blank. Dust and yellowed paper filled her nostrils as she flipped past handwritten notes and drawings of demons, Mexican gods, herbs—until landing on a bat-human hybrid illustration. A caption in Spanish described these blood-drinking demons gifted with stolen human powers. Her fingers found the key passage: ‘To annihilate them: silver, wooden stakes through the heart, holy water, or garlic. Night creatures—sunlight burns them to ash.’

Another page held a fresher note:

‘If you've let this vampire inside you, know there's little left to do. He's claimed your soul. One word, and you'll kneel to his will.’

⛧°. ⋆༺♱༻⋆. °⛧

"Father, I swear this is the pure truth! I swear on my very soul!"

"Don't swear such solemn oaths in vain, child..."

"But Father—" Dulce stepped between the priest and the small candle-laden table he was illuminating. Outside, night gradually embraced the sky, bringing an unseasonably icy wind to the spring evening.

"—you must believe me! If demons truly exist, these creatures walk among us, claiming victims, and it falls to us to stop them somehow..."

"Child," the priest began, placing his hands on Dulce's shoulders with a reproachful look, "you haven't been reading too many of those penny dreadfuls, have you? Hmm? I thought your Dracula and Nosferatu phase ended last century - or at the very latest, the beginning of this one."

"Please, Father—"

"Look, if it will ease your mind," he said, gently pushing her aside to reach the candles while pulling a matchbox from his pocket, "kneel and pray. But be quick - we'll be closing the church soon."

Dulce looked at him with anguish in her eyes, realizing she had no real escape. Defeated, she sighed and nodded, receiving a relieved smile from the priest. She turned on her red heels and walked to the front pew where she knelt – at least within God's House, the demon couldn't enter. She closed her eyes, clasped her hands where her black-beaded rosary hung with its silver crucifix, her red lips moving in prayer as she felt the night's chill touch her exposed back through the square neckline of her red dress. She pulled the scarlet lace veil over her eyes, finding courage to face God behind closed lids. Then she began to pray, her heart trembling along with the small sounds of the priest moving about.

Tock. Tock. Tock.

A shiver ran down her spine. She glanced over her shoulder at the closed door. The priest muttered "Who could it be at this hour?" as he walked toward the entrance. Dulce slowly rose, her wide eyes peering through the lace veil's patterns at the old man opening the door to reveal a male figure holding an oil lamp, grinning broadly, dressed as a local farmer. His gruff voice was unmistakable:

"Father, I know it's late, but I need a word with you..."

"No..." Dulce's voice was faint as she stepped out from the pew. The confused priest looked at her while Remmick behind him flashed his most victorious smile, his irises gleaming at the scene unfolding before him. When the priest turned to him, Remmick's expression instantly transformed - a look of pity, of near-innocence that wasn't his. Remmick spoke:

"Father, I don't mean to disturb anyone. I only wish to hear some words of faith and kindness —I've been struggling terribly these past days..."

"Don't listen to him!"

"Dulce, please behave!" the old man scolded, looking at the woman standing before him before rolling his eyes and turning back to Remmick's suffering expression.

"My son, this isn't the best time to visit our church. Perhaps return tomorrow morning and I'll be delighted to receive you!" He smiled. For a brief moment Dulce breathed easier, lifting her veil to fully see the vampire-demon who now looked almost dumbfounded at the priest... then at her. His charismatic smile returned:

"Father! I'm just a humble worker needing God's word like any other. Forgive the hour, but in your position would Christ turn away any soul—" he shot Dulce a provocative look, "—not even one already condemned to Hell, right?"

He raised an eyebrow, convincingly. Dulce summoned her remaining courage to speak over the priest:

"Don't believe him! It's him - he's the demon who's been hunting me!"

"Now miss, forgive me if I'm not the handsomest man, but honestly such words offend me as a gentleman..." Remmick began, hiding a devilish smirk. "I may be many things, but a demon isn't one of them."

He glanced at the priest with a sideways smile. The priest looked at Dulce leaning against a pew, then at the man before him wearing the pitiful expression of an abandoned child. Defeated, he sighed and opened the door wider:

"How can I refuse my Christian duty to welcome all brothers?"

Remmick's victorious smile widened as he remained in the doorway. The priest gestured inside:

"Come in, my son."

"With pleasure."

Remmick stepped one foot across the threshold, then the other, relishing the horror on Dulce's face. The priest smiled warmly, putting an arm around the newcomer's shoulders to guide him down the aisle toward Dulce:

"Now, what troubles you, my son?"

"Many things, Father... many things," Remmick said, his burning eyes locked like fangs on Dulce's throat. He turned his face to the priest, stopping just steps from the woman: "Chief among them... a love denied. It breaks the heart. Wounds the pride."

"I see... Then we'll need time for—"

"You've no idea." Remmick's mouth stretched - not in a smile but in hunger. The priest barely had time to gasp before fangs tore into his throat, ripping flesh like rotten fabric. Blood sprayed as the old man choked on his own lifeblood before Dulce, who stood frozen, warm droplets hitting her face. A crimson pool reached her shoe tips, her own face reflected in the thick blood. Horror filled her expression - yet beneath it, a strange calm.

Remmick pulled away with a guttural sound, tilting his head back, mouth gaping to display bloodied fangs, the metallic liquid dripping down his chin, neck, staining his light blue button-up shirt and silver chain. He smiled in momentary ecstasy:

"Like devouring one of God's lambs! Delicious!" His red eyes dropped to Dulce as a serpentine tongue licked bloody teeth. "But not as sweet as you, darling!"

His lips curved in that uniquely charming, diabolical smile. His eyes burned, his nails now sharp claws, the blood on his face as natural as breathing - while breathing was becoming difficult for Dulce.

Remmick was Death's face - but also that of filthy, wet, unholy lust.

And he knew it. Like the serpent tempting Eve, he approached Dulce with slow steps, blood-drenched hands raised, a thick trail of saliva at his chin's corner, his rough voice proclaiming:

"We have much to discuss, Doll!"

"Why are you after me!?"

"Come now... I thought you understood my message." He cocked his head, smiling slyly as she stumbled backward toward the altar – Remmick utterly mesmerized by his prey. "I only wish to give you this world's finest offerings, Doll! No more suffering, no more unanswered prayers—I've come to save you, my love!" His voice was so soft, so sweet that for a moment, she paused, looking at him with mingled anguish and pity.

Now face to face, fang to fang, his breath was metallic yet cloyingly sweet, his scent thick with morbid death. But his eyes glittered so brightly they nearly resembled twilight sky. Without hesitation, he cradled her blood-smeared face in his stained hands:

"I can't love you as humans do, not anymore... But I can free you from all pain and show you flesh's pleasures, my dear. I can make you love me in life, and in your brief death, we'll share each other completely. Just let me possess you, and we'll become one. Equal. One flesh, one spirit."

His gaze was gentle, his hands caressing the face no other man had touched as Dulce felt all strength leaving her fragile body. The desire to flirt with this demon was primal, overwhelming. Even covered in blood, reeking of death, Remmick smiled kindly – almost benevolently – as one hand slid to her waist, pulling her close until their lips nearly touched, whispering in that invisible kiss that now became real:

"We'll be one, sharing memories, free in the night. Free. Dulce, in accepting me, you embrace your liberation."

Dulce wavered when he finally captured her lips. Strange. Her eyes stayed open to watch him as his tongue pushed between her clenched teeth – mixing his bloodied saliva with hers. She gripped his forearms, torn between pushing away and pulling closer, finally closing her eyes as her lips and teeth parted for his tongue – and his fangs that scratched hers. Metallic blood welled; he licked it, held her chin to catch the trickle from her mouth before returning to the wet kiss of blood and saliva, claiming her possessively. A guttural moan escaped him as he lifted her by the waist with unnatural ease, carrying her toward the altar.

In that moment Dulce already felt surrendered to the vampire, to this demon conducting her corruption ritual, letting herself be kissed as never before, touched with such desire. Even knowing it was the Devil himself kissing her. Remmick mounted the altar's three steps, setting Dulce down and breaking the kiss with a needy sound, smiling to see her dazed, hypnotized by their dance. He loomed over her again, now at her neck, licking the sensitive skin as Dulce gripped his hair, arching against the altar, craving more.

And he would give her exactly what they both desired.

Like an offering before God, Remmick laid her on the cold marble surface, sweeping aside altar items with one arm. Heavy thuds followed – flying pages, metallic clatters, something large hitting the floor. Dulce didn't care, intoxicated by the bloody kiss, wanting only him. Something in him called to her like water to the dying. Remmick kissed her again, nipping her lips, trailing down her neck while she fumbled with his suspenders, her hands undoing his shirt buttons one by one – though Remmick grew impatient between kisses:

"Excuse me, Doll." His right hand grabbed her dress front, tearing buttons open to free her breasts. Dulce gasped, cheeks burning with shame. Remmick tilted her face up:

"No need for modesty while I fuck you in this church, sweet— it would only waste time..." He smirked, not hiding his devilish grin. For a moment Dulce considered resisting: fighting tooth and nail for her soul, trying to kill the vampire, escape his claws now at her throat where bloodied lips kissed with unusual delicacy at her pulsing jugular. But she was too weak, too guilty for wanting this, and simply yielded. She pulled him into a fierce embrace, pressing her exposed breasts against him, whispering in his ear:

"Please, possess me. Take me completely and end this."

"Why rush, sweet? We'll go slowly... I'll take you very slowly—" Remmick whispered back, pausing his lascivious touches to stare into her trembling, tearful eyes - like a weeping Mary before her crucified son. He glanced up at Christ's statue watching them with empty eyes, smiling with sugar-melting sweetness: "—I promise you'll feel every bit of me corrupting you, my love. My Dolorous Dulce."

He laughed at her expression – surprise, fear, passion and pity radiating from her. His right hand slid from her throat between her breasts, fingers pressing, claws pricking the velvety skin as blood welled: "This is where I'll take all your pain."

Dulce nodded.

Closed her eyes, waiting.Her heart pounded so violently she felt it leaping toward the vampire's mouth, as if surrendering itself. She expected fangs tearing flesh, blood leaving her body, her soul escaping. Would Heaven forgive her sins? Memories flashed – a happy childhood with her more able yet devout grandmother in Guadalajara, street games with friends, Día de Muertos cemetery visits, homecooked meals... Then crossing into the United States, the sadness, how colorful life turned dusty and dull. Everything brightening when she met Dakota in a cornfield, their easy friendship born from her broken English. Her greatest treasure. Dakota. A lifetime. Now she saw Remmick standing hands in pockets, bloodied, smiling at some horizon... And when she let him in, he turned with an "Oh wow, now we're talking" grin – the Devil before the cross.

But she felt none of that. Instead came something physical, solid, penetrating.

Inside her, breaking barriers, wetness between her legs, her core clenching and pulsing. Opening dazed eyes amid memories and visions, she saw herself truly surrendered to this ritual slaughter – or was it corruption? Remmick was penetrating her. Profane union that should wait for marriage, this spiritual wedding where the demon claimed her soul. Dulce gripped his shoulders, guilty pleasure taking her as he thrust, bestial groans coming from his throat while she clung to him, moaning prayers, thinking nothing. Burning. Her soul burned, her chest ached, her sex was aflame. Fire. Blood. Saliva.

Remmick drove into her, slow, feeling every part of her accept then expel him – a human pleasure he rarely shared; he preferred blood's taste, being a vampire who hunted for it, the bizarre pleasure of seduction and death. But here, in this carnal joining of human and vampire, he thought little. Only of possession. Claiming innocence, genuineness, purity. Virginal blood. Dulce neared that same sensation from her dream; this time she touched his face. Remmick felt her hands, meeting sweet eyes, dilated pupils, parted lips, her breath ragged, voice a thread:

"Don't stop."

Remmick thrust deep, pulling her closer. Her dragged-out moan met his rough voice: "Never an option, darling."

He looked down where her torn dress revealed her seminude body, cotton panties pushed aside, his cock glistening between her legs. He withdrew slowly, then sank back in. In and out, watching her writhe, beg quietly for more, deeper. Her exposed throat so fragile and tempting. Delicious. His mouth watered. Her breasts still bore his claw marks, everything inviting him to pierce her with fangs and venom.

He leaned down slowly, mouth open and salivating to bite her while thrusting deep, aiming for a fatal strike between her breasts–- but stopped. His cock twitched, clenched, his mind emptied and briefly – he felt human. Floating in dark skies, resting his head where her heart pounded and chest rose with ragged breaths. Where life he hadn't known in ages existed. Dazed, Dulce went limp in his arms, lying back on the altar, feeling like an offering to Remmick who collapsed atop her, still joined. They stayed in strange intimacy for minutes feeling like eternity until he finally stirred, met her eyes, and burned, his hand over her heart, voice low:

"I won't take you now. Only your pure blood, already corrupted by me... And soon I'll save you from all pain."

Dulce was beside herself, staring at the upside-down Christ statue, torn between laughing at her desecration and weeping for her easy surrender. Weak flesh, corrupted soul. She felt him withdraw from inside her, emptiness, then something cold and wet making her shiver – Remmick knelt before her, licking her sex. Symbolic virginal blood. Swallowing what her parents so valued, claiming her innocence before morality with such hunger – and she gave it with a small smile.

She closed her eyes, relaxed.

Darkness took everything, and she was grateful.

Perhaps now she'd have peace – some freedom in those shadows. Embracing them smiling, body bleeding and soul in fragments.

𝔉𝔬𝔬𝔱𝔢𝔯 ℭ𝔬𝔪𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔰: aaah, the sins of the flesh... in the end, Remmick claimed his prize—or so he believes. BUT Dulce? her fate dangles like a thorned rose. we’ll witness the final act. god, the corruption was perfect—visceral, morally murky, drenched in symbolism. unholy, yet irresistible." 𝔗𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔰𝔩𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔊𝔩𝔬𝔰𝔰𝔞𝔯𝔶: "¿Qué quieres, abuela?": "What do you want, grandma?" "Tú... tú lo dejaste entrar…": "You... you let him in..." "¿Qué quieres decir con eso, abuela? ¡No dejo entrar a nadie aquí, y mucho menos a ningún hombre!": "What do you mean by that, grandma? I don't let anyone in here, much less any man!" "¡Brujas! ¡Brujas! ¡Brujas!": "Witches! Witches! Witches!" "Por Cristo misericordioso! Espero que estejamos protegidos em Vossa segurança…" : "For the merciful Christ! I hope we are protected in your safety…" "o holy night, mystic perfume, the whispered prayer of my passion— seal my songs into a chorus as I went, in sacred slumber, to stir my beloved. (pale moon, lydia mendonza)"

𝔑𝔢𝔵𝔱 𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱

[qalma-e-azadi]

BDS SAFE PRODUCTS AND SERVICES (INDIA SPECIFIC)

Parent Companies

ITC: Sunfeast, Fiama, Vivel, Engage, Bingo, Yippee, Dark Fantasy, Savlon, Classmate

Amul Co-operative

Skincare, Bodycare and Haircare

Nyle

Khadi Naturals

Himalaya

Nykaa Naturals

Parachute

Joy

Minimalist

Buds and Berries

Wishcare

Dot & Key

Lacto Calamine

Dr. Sheth's

Aroma Magic

Alps Goodness

Everyuth

Soulflower

Mamaearth

Wow Skin Science

(plum is not on this list as the company has some shares in Unilever)

Makeup

Huda Beauty

E.L.F

Swiss Beauty and SB Craze Range

Insight Cosmetics & Insight Professional Cosmetics

Makeup Revolution

Blue Heaven

Mars (homegrown)

Sugar and Sugar Pop

Nykaa Cosmetics

Miss Claire

NY Bae

Cuffs n Lashes (homegrown)

Purplle Cosmetics

Iba Halal (homegrown)

The Real Woman

Food, Drinks and Snacks

Balaji

Bikaji

Snac Tac

Top Ramen (personal fav: their noodles in curry flavour SLAP)

Ching's Secret

PaperBoat

Parle

Britannia

Lotte

Search Engines

Ecosia (personal fav)

OceanHero

Tor Browser

DuckDuckGo

Remember Indians, that this is our time to promote and foster “Made in India” products!!!!

Beware Of These Logos and Do Not Purchase:

Palestine will be free in our lifetime! Boycott with your whole power!

Viva La Intifada! 🇵🇸

[angelholme]

Vladimir Putin & The Anti-Trans Cult

So lets just sum this up, shall we?

The UK, USA and all of Europe is at war with Russia, because we think Vladimir Putin is an evil bastard who is trying to take over Ukraine. We think he is one of the most evil men in the world, and anyone who is associated with him is also an evil bastard who can’t be trusted.

Very few people disagree with this, and it is the primary reason that Russia are not allowed to take part in The Olympics.

Are you all with me so far?

Good.

There is an organisation called The International Boxing Association.

It is run by a man named Umar Kremlev. A man who is widely criticised for having very close ties with Vladimir Putin (you remember him, right?), for being associated with a Russian state owned oil company and for there being “irregularities” during the elections of 2021 and 2022. He is, in short, a very suspicious character and did I mention him being very close to Putin (the guy who is the reason Russia aren’t allowed in polite company or The Olympics).

He is also the reason why The IBA aren’t permitted to oversee boxing at The Olympics — the first time an international authority was ever expelled from The Olympics.

And — if this wasn’t enough — he was the man in charge when a woman named Imane Khelif was disqualified from the World Championships for “undisclosed reasons” just after she defeated the previously undefeated Azalia Amineva — the previously unbeaten Russian contender.

The IBA — under the direction of a Russian man who is close friends with Putin, and who disqualified someone who beat a previously unbeaten Russian contender — claimed she had “high testosterone levels” but then said “they had not undergone testosterone testing” (so quite how they knew how high her testosterone levels were is curious — did they just look at her and go “No — too high”?), then they said DNA testing proved she “had XY chromosomes” except there is no evidence that she has XY chromosomes, and the only evidence that The Russian lead IBA is willing to provide is “confidential” and shows “a competitive advantage”

So — to sum up — The IBA, which is run by a Russian who is close friends with someone most of the known world hates, and who the UK, USA and Europe is at war with, and who is suspected of being incredibly corrupt, banned a woman from The World Championship for no apparent reason other than she beat a Russian contender who was going to go for the gold medal.

Are you still with me? Because all of this is merely prologue. Now we get to the good stuff.

The woman at the centre of all this — Imane Khelif — is about to go for The Olympic Gold in Paris.

Now given everything I have just told you — that she was banned from The World Championship by a corrupt organisation run by a man with ties to the Russian regime because she beat a Russian contender who was going to fight for the gold and so far there has been no evidence whatsoever to back up the reason she was banned — where do you think the press in the UK, USA and Europe would be on her performance in The Olympics?

Yes. That’s right. They want her kicked out of the contest.

The anti-trans cult is so fucking dedicated to the bigotry that they are willing to side with a man who runs a corrupt organisation, who is in bed with Putin, who has absolutely no proof to back up any of his claims and who banned someone because they dared to beat a Russian fighter just so they can continue to target a woman who has always been a woman and who can punch harder than another woman.

It’s fucking ridiculous.

[tigre-edi-rawr]

bakit ba ganito mga magulang ko? lahat nalang utang na loob naming mga anak nila habambuhay.

my sister informed us na she resigned at her work na kasi nagkaroon ng issue sakanila regarding corruption and she fears na maiinvolve siya at makasuhan pa.

then earlier mama said "bigay mo sakin allowance ko ha" kaso nagdahilan kapatid ko na kesyo last pay na niya ngayon at matagal pa bago makuha yung backpay kaya wala siyang pera kasi gusto niya ipitin pera niya dahil wala siyang paggastos habang wala pang bagong trabaho.

i get it. irresponsible somehow. magreresign, walang ipon tapos hindi magagampanan yung mga responsibilidad gaya ng contribution sa bahay, allowance ng magulang namin at baon ng bunso namin. pero yung makarinig ako ng "ay wala akong pakielam. tipirin mo sarili mo." what? i'm a parent now, and if ever my child is resigning at her work but gently reminding me that i have to help her in the meantime i won't even dare to think to say those mean things.

disturbed ako by those words kaya during lunch, i opened up about it. na it's not nice, how she said what she said. kaso straight to sumbatan na agad yung banat ng nanay ko.

"ano bang akala niyo malaki na yung 1k? sa pagod ko palang sa paglalaba" blah blah blah. i get it. it may not be a huge amount for you, but it is for your child that's working her ass off in a company na pinagtitiisan niya nalang to make ends meet while earning minimum wage. parang damn, i can't believe a parent would say those things to her child for a mere one thousand peso.

my sister, looking hurt, said her farewell nalang and left for her hospital appointment. but i know deep down, she did not like those words.

lumaki nalang ako sa sumbat.

kesyo gastos sa pang araw-araw, sa pag-aaral ko na kahit nasa public lang naman ako at di nga ako nakapag-aral sa dream university ko eh pero never ako nagreklamo o sumama loob, pati yung baon ko at gastos sa school, sinumbat na. hanggang ngayon, lahat ng sakripisyo, pagod, gastos at kung anong pwedeng isumbat... isusumbat.

i'd accept it by heart if we were the rudest, most ungrateful and bad children... but we're not.

grabe ang subsob ko sa pag-aaral ever since. never ako nagpabaya. after grad nga naghanap na agad ako ng trabaho dahil ayoko na maging pabigat at gusto ko makatulong. during my first 2 years, lahat ng sahod ko napupunta sa utang ng kapatid ko na ako na ang umako para hindi na mahirapan magulang ko. wala akong ipon! kahit pambaon ko, halos wala na rin. bukod pa don, nagbibigay ako ng share sa bahay. nagbibigay ng allowance sa magulang at kapatid ko. even noong buntis ako at wala naman ako sa bahay, 1/3 of my monthly salary will go straight to them. iba pa yung mga pasalubong o ano mang regalo na kusa ko rin naman binibigay. never ako naging madamot sa pamilya ko, bukod tanging sa sarili ko lang. kapag meron ako, maluwag ako sa pera. sige lang. kaso nakakapagod.

nakakapagod bumawi at tumanaw ng utang na loob kung lahat isasampal sayo. imbes na mapuno ka ng pasasalamat, nagiging sama ng loob.

i am grateful kaso habang tumatagal it's so heavy. sana hindi nalang sila nag-anak para wala silang obligasyon. para hindi sila nahihirapan. hindi naman namin desisyon na dalhin sa mundo, pero utang na loob namin lahat kahit pang araw-araw na pangangailangan gaya ng pagkain.

bakit naman ganon?

sa inis ko nagsalita nalang ako na "ayan ka nanaman. lahat nanaman isusumbat mo. kung napapagod ka, edi sa amin mo ipaasikaso. wag mo kaming asikasuhin, kami ang kikilos. hindi yung lahat nalang isusumbat. hindi naman yan ang pinag-uusapan, pinagsasabihan ka lang na hindi naging maayos yung salita mo."

gusto ko nalang umalis dito sa bahay. wala talagang peace of mind. parang mas lalo ako magkakapostpartum depression sa pamilya ko eh.

[sunb0rn]

isa sa long weekend (Aug 23 to 26) escapades namin.

pinasyal si Moffy (mofusand stuffed toy) sa Dahan ft. Señorita Suave, resident catto ng cafe.

cute ng back story nito.

way back 2022, may event ako na plinano attendan dito- fund raising hiphop event para sa anak ng guard netong business complex; si Waiaan, Shnti at Ruijikun ang performers.

goods ako mag solo, yan kasi talaga trip ko. pero sobrang naapreciate ko na sinabi nyang samahan nya ako. bilang nag sstart palang ulit ako mag collect ng new experiences I was so glad to be sharing this one with a new friend. eto, yung things that I used to want to enjoy pero hindi ko (fully) nagawa for a long long time. pero napapaisip talaga ako non if maeenjoy ba nya eh di naman nya soundtrip. hahaha

edi sinabihan ko na din yung iba from our circle kasi I learned that one of the guys ay fan ni Ruiji. eventually, pito kami na bumili ng tix. 🥹

recently sinabi nya sa akin balik kami dito ksi naenjoy nga daw nya vibe at para daw totoo nang kaming dalawa lang, nagulat daw sya nung dumami kami bigla eh. pero siempre naenjoy naman nya company ng lahat, nag after party pa kami non.

ayun nagkaka asaran nalang na may motibo pala yung pag sama nya HAHAHA. uwu 🥹

ayun. happy to be back kami!! solid. sarap ng cheesecake nila from Sadie's

🍦

[kimhortons]

so ayun, labas ko lang 'to. another work stuff rant.

dahil nai-stress nga ako sa mga katrabaho ko, mas nakaka drain makipag plastikan araw araw haha. nakaka pagod makisama. kaya recently, lunch time nalang talaga nila ako nakakausap. kahit work related conversations, hindi ako nakikisali. lalo pag nag tatanong sila about sa process, lagi kong pinapasa kay zha, since siya rin naman ang last call at mas susundin nila—kasi tl.

naiinis kasi ako pag nag tatanong sakin tas mag tatanong pa ulit kay zha, tapos same lang naman sa sinabi ko, parang hindi tuloy credible yung sagot ko. bitch na kung bitch pero kung duda ka sa process ko, bat ka pa saken mag tatanong diba. kaya sinasabihan ko sila pag hindi sila sure anong gagawin, kay zha or sa onshore nalang sila magtanong. lahat naman ng diskarte ko, sunod lang sa onshore e.

tas pag may bagong process, hindi pala shinishare agad nitong zha, nag aassume nalang siya na alam ko since sabay lang kami na almost 2 years na. though sa isang onshore team niya lang naman na may ibang diskarte rin tinatanong. wala man lang initiative na i-confirm kung tama ba yung ganito or ganung process bago i-relay dito sa team niya. gara din kasi paiba iba din ng process yung onshore teammates namin na parang hindi rin nag uusap usap dun. paano, may group chat pero panay pm kaya nag iiba iba tuloy ng diskarte.

nung one time tuloy, nagka error yung isang kateam namin, kasi yun daw ang sabi ng tl niyang si zha. haha. e pagkaka tanda ko, sinabi naman sa group chat yung tamang process nun, ewan ko saan nakuha ni zha na yun ang gawin nila. haha nagkakaron tuloy ng discrepancies. napa i told you so nalang tuloy ako, next time kako wag sakin mag tanong, tutal duda naman siya. haha. bitchesa amp. but in a good way and right tone. hehe

i dunno, nasanay kasi ako sa dati kong work na may sistema, so kapag may tinatrain ako, alam kong credible yung mga tinuturo kong process. iba man diskarte ko, mas may pride akong nakukuha na itong taong 'to natuto 'to sakin, macommend man siya, may part ako na masaya ako kasi ako nagturo sakanya. tulad nung last year, si jessa yung dating kateam namin, nacommend ng CEO namin nun kasi December bago pa siya tapos siya lang naiwan na nag duty, flawless daw yung work niya. sinabi niya magaling daw kasi yung nag turo sakanya. hehe. ako nag turo ng process nun kay jessa, hindi pa tl si zha.

ito yung mga panahon ako lagi ang ina-assign ng OM namin sa lahat. though hindi naman ako nag expect mapromote, it felt like personal nung si zha yung nirecommend niya at hindi ako. forever ko ata 'tong dadalhin kasi paulit ulit ko nalang 'to kinukwento. i know i'm capable of something, sometimes i just need that push. pero na push aside ako lol haha.

kaya nawalan talaga ako ng gana, nawalan ako ng motivation galingan. dati bida bida pa ko e haha. ngayon bahala kayo jan, basta ako gagawin ko kung ano lang task ko. sawa na nga kako ako sa ginagawa ko, nag iisip na nga ako pano makakawala sa client na 'to. it's either sadyain ko magkaron ng error or mag resign ako sa company mismo at mag reapply. walang magandang choice actually, kasi ayaw ko na naman umalis sa comfort zone ko na hindi naman comfort ang nabibigay saken. haha. but i know it will come. hindi palang talaga muna ngayon.

i'm just staying lowkey nalang doing the bare minimum. hehe.

[newhector]

On a business trip, I looked for company and after asking my tastes, I picked up the phone, reviewed some documents and within an hour the doorbell rang, I opened the door and a well-perfumed Greek sculpture appeared, accompanied by a beautiful smile and emerald green eyes. I invited her in and told her if she wanted to have something, while I went to the minibar and poured myself a whiskey, she said no. She told me to sit down, and I could see her walk in her long dress and I could hear her thin, high heels while I appreciated that under her clothes her breasts shimmered under the fabric, small but erect. She sat on a small table and opened her legs, she showed me some tiny bright red panties, and very sensually, she opened her dress, showing me two beautiful, hard nipples, she put a finger in her mouth, moistened it, and rubbed them. small circles on the areola of her breasts, I could see the shine of her saliva on them; Very slowly and without leaving my gaze, she began to slide her tiny panties with some difficulty, which she threw to one side while she rubbed herself with her other hand...

---_---_---_---_

en un viaje de negocios, busque compañia y tras preguntame los gustos coge el telefono, revise unos documentos y a la hora llamaron al timbre, abri la puerta y apareció una escultura griega bien perfumada, la acompañaba una bonita sonrisa y unos ojos verdes esmeraldas. La inviete a pasar y le dije que si queria tomar algo, mientras me acercaba al minibar y me iba poniendo un whisky, me dijo que no. Me dijo que me sentara, y la pude ver caminar con sus largo vestido y pude escuchar sus delgado y alto tacones mientras apreciaba que bajo la ropa sus pechos cibreaban bajo la tela, pequeños pero erectos. se sento sobre una pequeña mesa y abrio sus pierna, me mostro unas diminutas braguitas de color rojo vivo, y muy sensualmete se abrio el vestido mostrandome dos hermosos y duros pezones, se metio un dedo en la boca, lo humedecio y se los froto haciendo pequeños circulos sobre la aureola de sus pechos, podia apreciar el brillo se su saliva en ellos; muy despacio y sin dejarme mirarme comenzo a deslizar con algo de dificultad sus diminutas braguitas, que tiro a un lado mientras con la otra mano se frotaba...

[creation-art1]

🗣 Oc x Canon Alert 💥

Sinceramente nunca creí que llegaría este día, pero un día no aguante más y revente, les muestro mi ship con Huggy Wuggy

💙| My player:

ENG: One month after "Fun Time" Yun returns from a chaotic honeymoon she had with her now ex-husband. When she returns to the Playtime Company to pick up her belongings, she gets trapped and her story begins.

ESP: Un mes después de "La hora de la diversion" Yun regresa de su caotica luna de miel con su ahora ex marido, cuando regresa a la compañía para retirar sus pertenencias queda atrapada y empieza su historia.

((EXTRA: Moonlight))

ENG: Moonlight is Yun's traveling companion, a baby-focused version of Huggy who glows in the dark and deals with the player's bitter temper (yun)

ESP: Moonlight es la compañera de viaje de Yun, una versión de Huggy que iba dedicada más a los bebés, brilla en la oscuridad y lidia con el carácter del jugador (yun)