#greedy graham

[florang]

Something sweet

Can you find the little hearts on each page?

[catdets]

Purple Hand Polycule

[theranilord]

• You know what I noticed in that scene? There was a stack of quarters on the payphone. Were those Rinaldo's or is that just a thing people of the region do?

• Hannibal so casual about someone rich wanting him dead. He knows exactly who it is.

• Bedelia wants to make him look like a suicide?! This is Hannibal's Theater! Not dramatic enough!

[pilgrimagesource]

🚨 E-BOOK "AUTHOR" IS PLAGIARIZING PILGRIMAGE FICS 🚨

Buckle up, folks, this is gonna be a long one.

Our prolific author, @relicshamecircle (aka EnduringParadox on ao3) has been made aware of an e-book "author" named Layla Moran who has been blatantly plagiarizing her Diarmute fanfics and just changing the names and a few words around. This is absolutely unacceptable. I always like to think of this fandom as a safe haven and an accepting, kind community. But this is disgusting.

These are the three specific works listed on Layla's account that have been plagiarized from EnduringParadox:

This seems to be the work of someone within the fandom, because how else would she have found these fics and read them and decided to pass them as her own? So Layla Moran, if you follow me and you're reading this, you have made Pilgrimage fanfic authors, who are already so few and far between, feel unsafe to post without you getting your greedy hands on them and trying to take advantage of a small fandom for your own profit. Did you think you would never get caught? My advice to you would be to take down the works yourself before this has to get nasty.

To everyone else, I urge you to report and/or leave one-star reviews stating that they're plagiarized from fanfic. Links and proof below the cut:

The summary of The Beauty and His Beast:

Which is CLEARLY An Invitation to Happiness:

Ugh, Everild and Camdyn... what ugly names. But I digress. Here's the link to the GoodReads page if you feel so inclined to leave a one-star review and report.

An excerpt from An Invitation to Happiness, EnduringParadox:

"David hadn’t fought for glory or gold. At the time, he thought he’d stood for God—that the king’s cause, which he so readily made his own, was not only legitimate but justified both on earth and in the eyes of Heaven. More than five years later, carved into adulthood by the sword’s blade, his body a hardened knot of scarred skin, his throat ravaged by his own roars of rage and anguish, David knows better. That he had gone to war simply because he had been foolish. Because he’d been a young man but had still looked at war with a boy’s eyes—half a solemn duty, half a game. Something that would be done and done with satisfaction."

An excerpt from The Beauty and His Beast, Layla Moran:

"Everild Reed hadn't fought for glory or gold. At the time, he thought he'd stood for God--that the king's cause, which he eagerly made his own, was not only legitimate but justified both on earth and in the eyes of Heaven. More than five years later, carved into adulthood by the sword's blade and burdened with the weight of his choices, his body a hardened knot of muscle and scarred skin, Everild knows better now."

--

The summary of The Rancher's Mail-Order Husband:

Which, obviously, is Bluebells and Daylillies and Wild Roses Running Rampant:

Come ON, even naming Diarmuid's character "Ciarán"???? (And misspelling it Ciarian in the summary??) Here's a link to the GoodReads page. You know what to do.

And THIS ONE she's making money off of. You can buy it for $2.99 on Amazon.

Here's a link to the Amazon page, please report.

An excerpt from Bluebells and Daylillies and Wild Roses Running Rampant, EnduringParadox:

"David had almost joined their company. He’d gone nearly the entire war without being shot and damned if near the end of it all someone hadn’t gotten him right in the leg. The surgeon had told him they needed to take the entire limb. David had grabbed his collar, pulled him close until they were nose-to-nose, and gritted out that he’d break every one of his fingers if he tried it. He kept the leg, earned a limp, and found later, when he was beset by memories and the scent of blood and gunpowder, dizzy, pulse racing, that he’d gotten what they called the soldier’s heart, too."

An excerpt from The Rancher's Mail-Order Husband, Layla Moran:

"Graham had come close to joining the dead himself, narrowing surviving a gunshot wound to the leg near the warn's end. The surgeon wanted to amputate, and Graham, fueled by desperation, had snarled at him through gritted teeth, threatening to break his fingers if he so much as tried. He kept the leg but earn a limp that followed him everywhere, along with something the doctors called 'soldier's heart'--a condition that left him shaking, sleepless, and burdened with memories of blood and gunpowder."

--

And, finally, a summary of The Warrior and The Monk:

Which is just Temu how rich the earth, how bright the stars:

Here's a link to the GoodReads. Rate, report.

An excerpt from how rich the earth, how bright the stars, EnduringParadox:

"One morning, strangers in longships stepped onto the shore. Their arrival was no surprise. Along the sea's coast they drifted, slow, languid, in their monstrously large and narrow vessels with their monstrously large, woven sails dyed in bright, garish colors, a beacon to all that saw them, telling them—as their longships loomed like a pack of wolves stalking their prey—that they were coming."

An excerpt from The Warrior and The Monk, Layla Moran:

"One early morning, strangers in longships silently stepped onto the shore, their presence casting a heavy weight upon the land. Their arrival had been anticipated for days, maybe longer, and was no surprise to those who dwelled in the monastery overlooking the coast. The ships had been visible for miles as they drifted slowly, languidly, along the sea's edge, cutting through the waves like beasts with a purpose. They moved in their long, narrow vessels, which seemed both too large and too lean, with sails woven from thick cloth and dyed in bright, garish colors that stood out against the pale sea and sky. The sails themselves were like beacons, drawing attention,"

--

This is all so blatant and egregious. Shame on Layla. EnduringParadox is a kind and dedicated person writing all of these wonderful stories for our small fandom for FREE and Layla has taken advantage of that. We are small but we are mighty and protective of our own. Let's make Layla regret fucking with Pilgrimage.

[cherryheairt]

Your favs as Hozier lyrics

ft. hsr, haikyuu, CM, genshin, castlevania, arcane, aib, hannibal

"There's nothing sweeter than my baby, I'd never want once from the cherry tree"

Men who, though they haven't had the most pleasant past nor have done things they're proud of, find the sweetest joy in being with you. No matter the day, easy or hard, you manage to brighten it and add color to his life. He'd never ask for anything more than you give because you're all he truly needs.

for: alucard/adrian, ushijima, semi, daichi, atsumu, XIAO, DILUC, lyney, wriosthey, welt yang, jing yuan, mydei, HOTCH, viktor, niragi, aguni, frontman/in-ho, your fav

"If I say this is drowning, you tell me I'm walking on water."

You're his silver lining in all possible scenarios. He never looks at the brighter side, instead succombing to whatever is thrown his way and baring it with grit teeth. The moment you're in his world, you teach him that there's more to life than simply living day-by-day.

for: Gi-hun, WILL GRAHAM, Spencer Reid, SILCO, VANDER, trevor, sakusa, tsukki, BLADE, arlan, GALLAGHER, Neuvillette, WANDERER, your fav

"I'm starvin', darlin', let me put my lips to something. Let me wrap my teeth around the world."

He's got a bad reputation, but you've overlooked that long ago. You are the one thing he cares for at his stage in life, and he doesn't mind. He's greedy and selfish, and you've chosen to give yourself to him wholely. He takes and takes, and you give and give, trapped in a cycle of passion and love. Let him consume you, and you shall know his heart.

for: HANNIBAL, SALESMAN, loucha, SUNDAY, sampo, ALBEDO, DOTTORE, pantalone, capitano, ayato, chishiya, your fav

"We lay here for years or for hours. Your hand in my hand, so still and discreet. So long, we'd become the flowers."

In a chaotic life, he found peace in your touch. how long has he waited for one simple break from it all, to take a moment to himself? Your quiet breaths under his ear on your chest, your soft soothing traces down his scalp and spine, your endless hours of soft preaching that he could never get enough of. Yes, his perfect life was a quiet one with you.

for: dae-ho, arisu, karube, jayce talis, KENMA, kuroo, SUGA, TENDOU, akaashi, kyotani, JIAOQIU, veritas ratio, dan heng IL, kaeya, zhongli, al haithem, kazuha, your fav

"I'd rather take my whiskey neat. My coffee black and my bed at three. You're too sweet for me"

His life isnt picture-perfect or neat. He prefers it that way, really. He stays up late, gets up too early, has a routine that works only for him. But somehow you've managed to weasel your way in and adapt to him and his eccentricities. How? He can't be bothered to find out, but his silent gratitude speajs volumes.

for: osamu, KENMA, shirabu, tobio, cyno, heizou, morax, frontman/in-ho, salesman, will graham, your favs

"But you worry some, I know. But who wants to live forever babe?"

Lives dangerously, on the edge of life at all times. You will never hear a boring story–though you wish you might–and though he'd never give up such a precarious lifestyle, he'll always come back home to his baby.

for: BOOTHILL, SAMPO, aventurine, CHILDE, CAPITANO, trailblazer, ITTO, nishinoya, oikawa, SALESMAN, HANNIBAL, your favs

May not be entirely cohesive, just wanted to write SOMETHING. Accidentally became important at work so I'm working 6 days now and can't get anything I want to done writing-wise. let's hope and pray for my manager finding another hire to ease my suffering

[nmtrtk]

Greedy Pussy Jock Enjoying Being The Gangbang Cumslut - BoyFriendTV.com

観てるとやりたくなっちゃうよ

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Worrying About Santa The Night Before Christmas Eve

Nicumond the Red/Santa Claus x Fem!Mrs Claus Reader

Rating: T+

Warnings: Suggestive themes

Word Count: 800

(A/N:) Finally watched Violent Night this year and I didn't realize how much I needed David Harbour's Santa in my life. I feel like I've been a very good girl this year! XD Sooooo I had to write something! This idea wouldn't leave me alone and it's the perfect time for it! So enjoy my fellow David Harbour fangirls and Merry Christmas! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

The house was quiet while all the elves worked tirelessly to prepare for the big night. Santa always made sure to get plenty of rest before his Christmas Eve run and while he'd been doing it for so long now, you couldn't help but worry. Especially since he'd been showing telltale signs of burnout. You couldn't blame him as it seemed like children weren't as appreciative or thankful as they used to be. You tried to explain that things changed over time but you knew deep down he still enjoyed doing his job despite the complaints. Your heart ached and the stress of the eventful day looming ahead kept you from sleep. It didn't help that Santa was snoring loudly in your ear. You brushed his cheek and snuck from the bed. When you had nights where you couldn't sleep, you would bake, read, or anything to help calm your mind. But your favorite place to unwind was the stables. Being surrounded by the reindeer in the cozy stable, it had an affect that no other did.

Slipping on a comfy robe and rubber boots, you trekked across the snow covered ground. The crunch of snow under foot and the tinkering of elves in the surrounding buildings made you smile. It was when you opened the stable doors to see 8 fuzzy noses and 8 sets of curious warm eyes did your shoulders finally relax. You didn't want to bother Nicomund, he had enough to worry about and if he knew how you were feeling because of him. The guilt would eat at him. So you opened the door to Prancer's stall and let yourself in. The reindeer nuzzled your hand looking for treats. As always you had a pack of graham crackers in your robe pocket and all the reindeer knew it.

"You can't be greedy," you whispered. "Everyone will get one. Not just you Prancer."

The reindeer shook it's head munching happily on the treat while you grabbed a brush and began to stroke it across his coat. You lost track of time before the barn doors opened once more and Santa called out your name.

"I'm in here," you answered. You knew it wouldn't be long until he started looking around for you. For some reason your husband had the uncanny ability to know when you were sleeping or when you were awake. He leaned over the stall door.

"Leaving me for the reindeer now," he asked a teasing gleam in his eye.

"They do smell better sometimes," you replied pocketing in the brush and giving Prancer one more quick pat.

"Traitor," he glared at the reindeer. Only Prancer nodded before ignoring you both completely to go munch on more hay. Santa stood up letting you exit the stall and as you closed the door back Nicomund stepped closer pinning you against the wood.

"Is everything alright," he asked cupping your cheeks with warm hands.

"I'm fine."

He shook his head, "Right. You only disappear when something is bothering you and you always come to the barn when you're worried about something."

"You a mind reader now," you retorted.

"No," Santa shook his head. "I just know my Mrs. Claus really REALLY well."

"I'm worried about you. That you're losing the joy that this season once brought you. The children used to bring you so much happiness and now I don't think you can find one good thing about what you do anymore."

Your heart was breaking and Santa could tell that you were on the verge of tears. He wrapped you tightly pulling you close to him.

"You don't have to worry about me. I'm sure I'll find that happiness again I once had when I first started doing this," Nicomund kissed your forehead.

"You think so," you sighed leaning in closer to him.

"No."

"Good to see your confidence is intact then," you snorted causing him to chuckle.

"Now I only have so long left with you this evening before I have to go. So will you please come back to bed? You may love the reindeer but I promise that I can keep you much better company," he cooed.

"Is that a promise," you teased.

He nodded and you laughed. Santa leaned down giving you a deep kiss, laced with lots of promises. A few seconds later you and Nicomund were walking back to the house hand in hand. Talking about everything and planning on the time you both wanted to spend together once Christmas Eve was finished and all you could do was look forward to that time you got to spend with him. Back in the cozy house, Santa swept you up in his arms carrying you back to your shared bedroom where he deposited you back onto the mattress making you grin.

"Merry Christmas Mr. Claus," you whispered, kissing him softly.

"Merry Christmas Mrs. Claus," he replied kissing you right back.

[radawaycunt]

Okay enemies to lovers with will where he teases/bullies the reader after seeing that she struggles to take his huge dong 😳 this is literally the only way i can cope with 9 inch will graham cock allegations

9inches!?!?! Naurrrr I said 6 1/2, but he’s thick afff. I’d even say 6 inches, but ur still gonna feel it scrambling ur guts sooooo (also i fucking love this thank youUuuuUuU)

————

“What’s that? You need me to slow down?” Will asked condescendingly. “Too big for you, is it?”

You nodded a little, gripping the edge of his desk tightly. You hated to think that this admission would only boost his ego, but you hadn’t expected him to stretch you out like that.

“You’re just….” You scoffed despite yourself. “T-thick is all. I-I can take it but just…”

“Oh I know this greedy pussy of yours can take it. You think I don’t feel how you’re squeezing me right now? And I’m only halfway in,” he said with a chuckle, gripping your hips as he thrust shallowly. “Just gotta train you, is all.”

“God I can’t fucking stand you,” you murmured, but a whimper escaped you as he pushed just a little further in.

“You’re the one that asked to get bent over my desk, weren’t you?”

“Y-yeah, so I didn’t have to look at you!” You bit out, willing your body to relax so you could try to retaliate by pushing your ass back against him.

“Well, I’m definitely enjoying this view, but maybe next time I’ll make you look at me so I can see how much you like it when I’m inside you.”

Involuntarily, you clenched around him at that. He chuckled again, giving your ass a light smack. His body bent forward so that his chest was closer to your back, and he gently pulled your head back by putting his hand around your throat.

“One thing at a time, though,” he murmured close to your ear. “Gotta make sure you can take all of me first.”

———

[berrylovecrime]

Purified - Hannigram

rating: e (smut)

tags: demon!Hannibal, Father Graham, tail sex, breeding, mpreg (mentioned), religious themes with no religious guilt, God complex, anal beads, improper use of a rosary

summary: Father Graham owns the demon’s name, but Hannibal would never leave the church basement anyway.

read on ao3 || strawpage

Father Graham entered the basement already removing the stole from around his neck. The creature on all fours on the bed made an animalistic sound, hips bucking. His tail swished sensually in the air, keeping himself exposed to the priest.

“Now what did I say this morning?” the Father asked, wasting no time stepping behind Hannibal and rubbing broad, warm hands down the smooth globes of his ass. He admired the way his creature’s cock swung heavily, hole clenching around nothing.

“Wasted my time,” spank ,“and breath,” another, “telling you what a good little thing you’ve been lately.” He caught his breath, the force of his smacks getting both him and Hannibal worked up. The latter was bucking wildly, seeking friction so the Father gripped him with one hand on his hip, and the other on a jagged antler. He forced Hannibal’s head back to encourage him to pay attention.

“Don’t even think about it.” Father Graham’s hands roughly jerked against him in place, indicating that he wanted him to stay put. He heard desperate panting as he disappeared from behind Hannibal to dig through the top dresser drawer. He was only gone a moment, but when he came back there was a milky clear precum beading at the night black tip of his monster’s cock. The priest let out a sympathetic chuckle and removed his collar.

“You’re going to be okay,” he leaned down to whisper against Hannibal’s temple, gently reaching underneath him to grab his inhuman length. The poor creature let out gasps of relief at the touch until—click—the sensation of cold metal on even colder, velvety skin.

Hannibal’s sounds were demonic, a wounded animal, a bratty cry, all at once. Father Graham stepped back to drink in the sight of his beautiful creature trapped in the silver cock cage, his white priest collar held in place around the thick base.

“So feral,” the priest whispered, almost to himself. “So greedy… I thought I had you trained better than that.”

Hannibal mewled and growled at once. The sound filled Father Graham’s belly with the same heat he’d been assaulted with all day. It had been so long since Hannibal had defied his boundaries and forced visions into the priest’s mind that always left him in a cold sweat. Once upon a time, the demon had attacked him with visions of gore and sin—today, he had slipped images into his Father’s mind of gagging and fucking.

Father Graham had seen—felt—that monstrous cock sliding down his throat. He had to choke down Hannibal’s constant conscious stream of need to focus on delivering his sermon. The crowd of worshipers had watched the blush spread from his cheeks, down his neck, disappear below the collar. He had to take a moment to clear his throat and imagine himself flogging Hannibal, hoped that the thought made it back to the demon being kept like a pet in the church basement.

It continued all day as he attempted to preach, speak to the nuns, council the parishioners that came to him for advice and prayer. He was mid-Hail Mary when a long, invisible tongue wrapped itself around his dick. He strained against the front of his robes and stomped once on the floor.

He was writing notes in his office when the breath was knocked out of him and his eyes rolled back. Father Graham was completely helpless to the vision of pitiful, monstrous Hannibal lying alone on his back, long onyx fingers holding his cheeks open as he fucked into himself with his own tail. His hips curled upward just enough so he could suckle wantonly on the tip of his unnaturally long cock.

It was the kind of greed and lust only written about in the Bible. It was unholy. It demanded cleansing.

So when Father Graham entered the basement later that night, he was in no mood for gentle preaching—this would be Old Testament punishment. He had worked his entire life to be this close to God, and now, holding command over the demon who only he owned the name of, he was closer than ever. He commanded a spirit of Hell the exact same way the Lord did. He did it better.

“Hannibal.”

The creature screeched, purred, hissed. Seared with white hot pain where the collar touched his skin. It only made him grow and throb against the metal bars.

“What happened today won’t be repeated. Understand?” The demon huffed abruptly through his nose, giving no response.

Father Graham almost pitied the thing. He knew better, however, so he instead reached back under Hannibal to hook a finger into the cock cage. He had to jam it in alongside the throbbing length before he could pull, painstakingly slow, downwards.

It took several moments for the stretch on Hannibal’s skin to turn into an ache, and then he was growling just over a whisper. “It will not be repeated because you will not enter my mind without my consent. Am I, or am I not understood.” His voice grew louder at the end as his other hand also reached under Hannibal to pull his balls down roughly. Again, it was pleasurable to the creature for all but a moment before it became sweet pain.

Hannibal bleated a sound that was angry, needy, defeated, stubborn. Slowly, he dropped his upper body from his hands down to his elbows. His forehead rested on the bed in a bow. Father Graham’s eyes drooped, licking his lips at the hungry power surging through him.

“‘Obey your leader and submit to Me,’” the priest began quoting the Bible gently, as a teacher would to a young student, “‘for I am keeping watch over your soul. Let Me do this with joy and not with groaning, for that,’” he tugged on the cage and swollen balls that he barely managed to wrap his fingers around, “‘would be of no advantage to you.’” Blinding light boiled through Hannibal’s blood excruciatingly—deliciously. He moaned and hissed at once.

Father Graham looked down at the sensation of a strong but gentle tail slithering up his abdomen. It traveled up and down his chest adoringly, seductively, annoyingly. The Father petted it against his chest as he stepped away only far enough to reach for a few items, placing them on the end of the bed that Hannibal couldn’t see. Then he came to sit at the edge of the mattress just behind his kneeling creature. The tail continued reaching for him as if it had a mind of its own.

“What’s got you so worked up today, Hannibal?” The demon let out a happy hiss at the sting of hearing his name and arched further into the air. The faintest hint of some scent he’d never experienced drifted to Father Graham. Rich and sweet, dark and musky, tempting and sinful. He licked his lips and inhaled. A palm came to rest gingerly on Hannibal’s ass. The greedy thing began to push back into it, until he felt the wet thumb accompanying it. It slowly pressed hard enough to dip the flesh of his cheek and drug down with a dizzying agony.

The monster pushed its face and chest into the bed, claws puncturing the blanket as a lone drop of the holy water left Father Graham’s finger to travel down Hannibal’s ass. By the time it reached the back of his balls, he was rumbling so low that vibrations tingled through the both of their skin. “Have I not taught you how to stand strong in the face of temptation? Have I not guided you closer to the light at all, Hannibal?” The priest’s voice sounded desperate, disappointed, yet mocking in the way that he already knew he had the demon well and truly under his thumb.

As the monster keened, Father Graham rubbed his finger along the skin where his hand still rested. Still covered with the blessed water, he let it brush past the outer ring of Hannibal’s hole. When it became clear that the poor, ancient thing was enjoying the pain a little too much to give any kind of answer, Father Graham spanked him hard.

“You will answer to me,” he commanded as if he were preaching. Another spank on the other side. “Or you will not receive anything like those pretty images you slipped into my mind today.” The demon wantonly sought out more of the touch and let out a huff, whine, growl. Buried its face deeper into the covers. It missed the way Father Graham’s eyes narrowed for a second in something akin to concern or confusion.

Ever so softly, he removed his hands from Hannibal—and the tail from his thigh—to stand up. “‘I give you what you ask for because you obey My commands and do what pleases Me,’” the verse from 1 John was butchered like the others, substituting himself for the Lord’s name.

He picked up the heavy leatherbound book that he had set on the bed earlier. He held the bottom of the Bible with both hands and then straightened his arms out so the flat of it could rest just in front Hannibal’s presented ass. He didn’t have to swat the usually pesky tail out of the way as it remained perked up at the sound of Father Graham’s movements. “‘This is what I command:’” he quoted surely before rearing back and smacking Hannibal’s bottom hard with the Bible. Invisible white-hot flames licked at cold black skin the moment it made contact.

A few rushed whimpers escaped Hannibal before the cry could. The walls of the basement shook around them.

“‘Submit yourself therefore to Me.’” Another blow landed, and this time he held the Good Book there against Hannibal’s trembling cheek. “‘Resist the devil and he will flee from you.’” Another spanking, and another. The smacks it made were nearly drowned out by the roaring. “‘Draw nigh to Me,’” the Father used a hand on Hannibal’s hip to force him still and pull him closer. “‘And I…’” he circled the soft leather corner around Hannibal’s hole, now fluttering rapidly. Father Graham finished with a whisper. “‘…will draw nigh to you.’”

Hannibal’s sounds were so precious, so choked off, so struggled. There was something unusually restrained about his movements where he normally would buck wildly. The priest got the impression, for the first time ever, that the demon might be tired. Father Graham noticed now the way Hannibal slunk down and back against the Bible, willing to accept whatever pain or pleasure he was given.

Father Graham moved the Holy Book away from his sore ass and laid it to rest on his arched back instead. It settled between his shoulder blades. Hannibal preened with pure pleasure even as his flesh seared.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

The demon rolled its face into the blanket, large antlers restricting its movement. Continued making sounds Father Graham had never heard before. Made no attempt to communicate with the gentle priest.

In turn, Father Graham reached behind and under and cup his balls. They felt so full, he knew they must have ached. He rolled them around in his palm, massaged them with his fingers. Hannibal’s sounds grew weaker under the noise of the cock cage’s metal clinking. Whatever that heavenly scent was gradually grew thicker.

The priest let out a sigh, not annoyed just unsure. He grabbed the rosary lying at the end of the bed.

“‘Always obey Me and you will be happy.’” Rosary in hand, he petted Hannibal’s ass. “I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me what you need.”

For the first time that night, the demon lifted his face just enough to peak at his owner. He held eye contact for a long moment, a not-quite-blank expression of something not-quite-inhuman seeking… something. Some whispers in an ancient language coursed around Father Graham’s very bones.

The creature hid his face again.

The priest didn’t know what else to do besides show mercy, as God would. He massaged the rosary into Hannibal’s skin once more before rolling the beads down. They dropped over the curve of his ass and nestled between his cheeks. There was only the faintest of a pained hiss present under happy, heaving breaths.

Father Graham used his thumb to pick one of the bigger beads and press it deeper. He didn’t stop when it reached Hannibal’s gaping hole, no pressure even needed to encourage it to drop in. Both the demon and the priest moaned.

He waited a moment, wanting to give Hannibal a chance to obey. When it still didn’t happen, he dropped another bead in. With the other hand, he trailed the flat of his warm palm up from the base of Hannibal’s spine. “You’re okay,” he murmured in response to the whimpering, petting him a few times before coming to rest and press down on the Bible. “I can it make it all better for you, if you let me.”

More pitiful sounds, alongside the more usual, stubborn groaning. He didn’t do anything but arch further into a presentable, delectable pose for his master. Father Graham nodded, maybe more so to himself, and continued soothing Hannibal, guiding bead after bead past the raw ring. Hannibal’s hole sucked each one in, gripped around the priests fingers.

Once most of the loop of the rosary was popped in, Father Graham had to apply more pressure. Hannibal panted as they slid in faster to double up alongside the other beads, leaving the crown of the rosary stuffed inside him while the pendant dangled. Father Graham leaned forward to kiss the crucifix, and it swung against the back of the demon’s balls. Pure and holy and burning with pain that threatened to drive it mad. Still, it moaned.

Father Graham reached around with only the intention to rattle Hannibal’s cock cage but was caught off guard by the amount of wetness that immediately coated his hand. He toyed at the throbbing flesh through the metal, spreading the slick with his fingers. He trailed further down to the priest collar still trapped at Hannibal’s base and tapped on it in thought. “I’ve always known you to be a wanton creature, Hannibal, but this…” He watched the remaining beads left hanging quiver. “This is something else, isn’t it?”

There was a loud, defeated sigh, reminding the Father of a wounded deer finally lying down to die. Still, he did not feel submitted to; as if his monster was continuing to hold back from him. There was further light and goodness that Hannibal was still seeking out with his body and Father Graham would not rest until he was allowed to be a guiding hand.

Determined, he massaged sure, strong palms up and down even stronger muscles as he climbed onto the bed. He situated himself on his knees behind Hannibal. The latter barely put in the effort to push back against Father Graham’s robed body, and despite his immense strength, it took no effort at all to be coaxed back into the mattress. He whined and whimpered and huffed. He could barely hear the gentle reassurances being cooed at him over the sensation of warm hands kneading his lower half. Father’s Graham’s palms rode deliciously up the length of his spine to knock the Bible over. It rolled off Hannibal’s back, tipped over the edge of the bed and landed on the floor with a thud. The priest paid it no mind.

With more cold flesh now exposed to him, his hands roamed freely, giving more pressure than he would any human. The noises he received were also not human, not something that any other human had probably heard before now. “What’s wrong?” Preening and pouting filled the room alongside that sweet scent.

Father Graham’s traveled further down now, cupped the full, firm ass. “Have I not always taken care of you?” He spread Hannibal open, admiring the sight of the beads. “Or have I just spoiled you too much?” He whispered, one hand trailing further to barely tug at the rosary. The demon’s sad noises were accompanied by an arched but sagging tail, resting over the priest’s shoulder. “Is that it? Are you—” he had barely popped the first bead out. “Ohh.”

Father Graham’s mind left him. His body forgot that the point of inhaling was to breathe, not to taste. But that same, divine scent hit him with a force that had his eyes watering almost too much to see the liquid coating the Our Father bead. He licked his lips, chest heaving unevenly.

Hannibal’s sounds were merely animalistic now, tongue hanging out of a slack jaw. The Father would have normally stopped to admire his beauty, but he was hypnotized. He pulled the next bead out just as slowly, drooling now. It glistened at him in a taunt, begged to be tasted. The skin between Hannibal’s hole and balls throbbed freely, and Father Graham could see now the way that mysterious, heavenly liquid threatened to spill over. He pulled another bead out.

He watched, his own tongue hanging out too, as more and more slick beaded up along the edge of Hannibal’s ring. A couple more tugs, and finally, it dripped over. The Father couldn’t even watch where it was heading because then another was spilling over, and another, and his eyes were fixed on the way it was now gushing out as he pulled the rosary free. The demon cried and hid his face and throbbed with his whole body.

Then with one particularly forceful clench, the fluid was squeezing out and rolling down. Father Graham watched entranced, licked his lips, and knew exactly what he had to do.

He started by leaning down to press a sloppy, open mouthed kiss to where the underneath of Hannibal’s tail met the top of his bottom. Always a weak spot for the demon, it let out a surprised noise that quickly melted into grumbling purr.

Losing more of his self-control by the second, Father Graham gave encouraging little licks. He began to move downward without thinking, that sweet smell pulling him in.

The flat of his tongue lapped Hannibal’s hole, and before the priest could realize what was happening, he tasted it for the first time. He pulled away in breathless shock. “You’re divine, Hannibal.”

The creature had given up on any vocalizations, barely managing its whiny panting.

Father Graham wanted to speak, to reassure the poor thing in any way. But he was dropping the rosary to the floor so he could properly spread Hannibal and bury his face where he knew he needed it. His mouth was open, tongue already searching for Hannibal’s tight ring. He tried a few different things at first, wanting as much of the slick as he could reach. He kissed and licked and then turned his head to the side a bit so he could wraps his lips around the swollen area and suck.

He may have been moaning louder than Hannibal, but then Hannibal was growing more primal in his neediness. He seemed to gain back some of his usual fight and pushed back against Father Graham’s face, though not at all aware of his own supernatural strength as he usually is. Father Graham didn’t mind, just used his harsh grip on the demon’s ass and hip to force them even closer together, swallow even more of that delicious warmth down his throat. This continued until the priest truly could not breathe, so he sucked harder and shook his head from side to side before pulling away for a sharp inhale. Then he was back to devouring.

The only thing the priest was somewhat conscious of was the absolute mess. Wetness was dripping off both of their skin, squelching between their movements. It gushed freely from both Hannibal’s hole and his cock, and the Father could do nothing but continue to smear it around with his face and hands. He drank as his hair and neck were soaked.

When the telltale signs of Hannibal getting close began to show, Father Graham smiled into his flesh and reached for the keys hanging from his robes. Even in giving into the demon’s desires, he felt merciful and in-command as he reached around and unlocked the cock cage.

It fell to the bed with a loud clink, drowned out by Hannibal’s roar—confused, relieved, exhausted, exhilarated as he immediately spilled over. Ropes of pure white shot out forcefully in a complete lack of self-control. The Father helped him through it by pushing his tongue further through the wetness and swallowing each new rush of slick that entered his mouth, milked each spurt of his cock with rough fingers. Once he’d coaxed his monster through the very end of his orgasm, he pulled away to admire his work.

It was nothing they hadn’t don’t before, yet the sight before him was covered in a new shine and scent that filled his stomach with heat. His own needs were becoming more pressing, along with some new primal instinct to give Hannibal something he’d never had before.

Murmuring words of praise, he guided the demon to roll over onto its back. Father Graham resumed petting him reassuringly, cradling his head to help him move with the large antlers. Once settled, Hannibal melted immediately into the mattress with legs spread for the priest to kneel between. His cock lay spent but still swollen against his heaving stomach. Father Graham rubbed his chest, his biceps, his abs. He admired the way the cool, onyx skin made even his tan hands look pale in contrast.

“You know I always take care of you.” It wasn’t entirely a question, but Hannibal’s breathless mewl was encouraging all the same. The Father silently trailed two fingers to mark the sign of the cross over Hannibal, starting at his forehead. He gently moved to the broad chest, lips parted in concentration on a prayer only he could hear. He touched each of Hannibal’s shoulders next.

“I always give you what you need.” Hannibal sunk further with drooping eyes, tail coming to wrap around Father Graham’s waist. The end of it swished tiredly against his lower back, claws gripped at the blankets without quite enough pressure to puncture.

The priest studied his beautiful demon’s face for a long moment. He saw expectation there, and the anxiety of a deer in headlights. Familiar feral rawness with an unfamiliar vulnerability. Maybe even a flash of anger towards itself for not having the will to leave the basement even though it knew it really, really should.

But Hannibal was no less an animal than Father Graham was, so his instinct kept him right there on the mattress, vulnerable and still dripping.

“You just have to trust me.” And the creatures eyes had blinked closed at some point, so he had missed the sight of his priest pulling his robes to the side to enter Hannibal in one push.

Hannibal’s resulting cry almost would have made Father Graham feel bad if he didn’t see the way his thick cock immediately jerked or felt the way his hole fluttered around him. Hannibal arched to grind his hips into the mattress, instinctively trying to keep Father Graham’s entire length inside him. Neither could breathe properly, the priest coming completely undone at the sensation of thick liquid sucking him further in with an obscene noise.

Father Graham only had to resettle himself the barest amount to press hard against Hannibal’s prostate before the latter was thrashing wildly. “It’s okay, I’ve got you,” the priest cradled his cheek but used the other hand to roughly pin Hannibal’s lower stomach down. The extra pressure encouraged purring and whining and grunting. “Have faith in me,” he continued soothing, forcing himself impossibly deeper.

He kept his monster locked in position as long as he could take it. Let the poor, needy thing feel him rolling his balls in gentle movements against his ass. Eventually, the effort of staying so still became too much and the way Hannibal seemed to be clenching with enough force to try and push him back out was growing far too tempting. He slowly began to pull out and was met with a defiant cry, unsure if it was because Hannibal couldn’t bare to be empty or if he didn’t want the priest to eventually fuck back into him.

It didn’t matter though, because the priest had no control over his body as he slid almost all the way out. He looked down just in time to watch the gush of slick being pulled out with the length of his cock. He had to rest his thumb on top of it to keep the head from being pushed out of Hannibal’s throbbing body. He whispered in awe. “Such a beautiful mess you’ve made for me.” The demon’s twitching cock also leaked, so the priest wrapped loose fingers around it as he slowly began to thrust back in.

Hannibal keened and arched into it, then away, then back into it again.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to run from it,” Father Graham resumed calming him even as he did not stop entering him. “It’s going to make you feel better, isn’t it?” He used the hand on Hannibal’s cock to press it against his dark skin, letting the pressure on his stomach make him more aware of the Father stuffing him full.

Hannibal’s moaning was hardly an answer, but it didn’t matter. “You came to me in your time of need and I didn’t understand you, did I, darling?” There was a glimmer of something closer to human in the monster’s eyes at the sound of the pet name. “You tried to tell me, but I’m here now and I can make it all better if you just let me.”

There was a sweet high-pitched sob that melted into a rumble. The Father ran his hands over tensing muscle. He moaned, bottoming out again, pressing gently at first. The further he pushed, the more Hannibal relaxed. “Give in to me,” and with a rush of air, he did.

That dark, commanding righteousness filled Father Graham all over again the second Hannibal’s body went limp, and he was pulling out to thrust once more. “That’s right.” Another thrust, accompanied now by an animal’s building roar. “So good for me.” The tail that had been wrapped weakly around his waist fell further to his hips. The priest muttered a curse he would normally hold back and released all self-restraint, driving his hips in freely.

“Come on, you can take it,” he panted in between his own moans, trying to heave the tail back up to wrap around him tight. The tail barely made an effort to remain there, and the Father had to hold back his frustration that would usually be solved by tying the demon up and administering a holy punishment. But tonight was different, and this creature was going to behave of its own accord whether it wanted to or not. “You wouldn’t have shown me what you needed if weren’t able to take it.” He barely managed through his teeth, face flushed with the exertion of his thrusting.

Pitiful, cut off whining filled the room again, a lost animal crying for help. At last his hips began to move, ever so minutely, in search of his usual strength. Unable to find it, he instead tried to please the human attempting to rush to his aid by wrapping his tail tighter, pulling him closer. “There you go,” Father Graham wasn’t sure if he was soothing the poor beast under him or himself as the ball of fire in his stomach threatened to build too soon.

He watched with a small but proud smile as Hannibal opened his eyes and pitifully trailed the end of his tail up the priest’s back. It slid coolly against heated skin, came to curve over his shoulder and swipe almost adoringly against his cheek.

“See? That’s it, pretty thing,” and Father Graham was leaning down to kiss him. It was messy as he struggled to hold himself up, hands bracketing underneath sharp antlers and trapping Hannibal’s cock between their bellies. He grunted into the Father’s mouth as it slid wetly with each thrust.

If anyone walked past the church this time of night, they would certainly hear the sounds of groaning, feral breathing; maybe even the very walls rattling over the sound of pornographic squelching. Father Graham couldn’t bring himself to care, too lost in their sounds. Hannibal’s icy flesh was the only thing keeping him grounded on earth while his body existed solely for the purpose of fucking into a wild, desperate demon.

Unspoken prayer passed off each other’s tongue into wide open mouths as they kissed. Even as his cock prodded and massaged Hannibal’s prostate, Father Graham wasn’t close enough, not far enough inside him. His fingers came up to explore greedily inside the demon’s mouth alongside his own tongue. Hannibal just slackened his jaw further and accepted them graciously.

Soon, Hannibal’s tail was back to its own curious searching, poking inquisitively at the corner of Father Graham’s busy mouth. “Mmm,” his priest held eye contact with him and sucked it into his lips for a moment before resuming kissing him. Hannibal’s own mouth dropped further as if in awe, trying to put enough space between them to slide his tail back into their wet kiss. “Yeah?” the priest caught the hint, watching his face with interest as he caught Hannibal’s tail with one hand and held it in place against gleaming, night-black lips. He licked a broad stripe so his saliva coated both the greedy tail and Hannibal’s mouth. “Need something?” He sucked the tip again and hollowed out his cheeks before pulling off with a taunting pop. But he couldn’t wait to hear an answer, too occupied with prying Hannibal’s lips open with his fingers so he can kiss him more.

Hannibal seemed to perk up, growling into the Father’s mouth and bringing his hands up to claw at the robes still hiding the warm body underneath. Almost unsure of himself and how the priest would react, he pulled his claws down to leave long, jagged tears in the fabric.

Father Graham could only grin with pride, seeing his monster so undone even after years of training him to have more self-restraint. It was something that could be addressed later—right now he had Hannibal pinned underneath him in the most blissed out, submissive expression he had ever seen from the demon. “Go ahead, take what you want.” It was all the encouragement Hannibal needed to rip the clothes to shreds. Father Graham thrusted harder when he felt light scratch marks being left on his skin at Hannibal’s effort to gently remove the remaining scraps of fabric. Something about the small effort made the priests heart swell—and his balls draw up tight—as he further lost control.

Now bare, cold hands could roam his back and shoulders. Father Graham was still whispering words of encouragement and praise when he realized that Hannibal’s tail had left his face and untangled itself to instead slide innocently between his ass cheeks.

The priest bit back a comment about the sin of greed, instead opting to slow his thrusting. Hannibal hissed and gasped at each inch entering and leaving his stretched hole. His tail flicked and spread Father Graham to settle deeper.

“You got what you need?” he asked kindly with the all-knowing smile of a man who knew exactly what else the monster wanted. Hannibal purred a sound of pleased agreement, but his tail continued wiggling.

The tip dragged down to draw playful circles around the Father’s hole. The priest sighed contently and spread his thighs, arching into it even as he continued his slow fucking. He stroked Hannibal’s high cheekbone and locked eyes. A silent understanding passed between them.

“Latch on,” he told the demon, and the demon did so with such force it rocked the church. All at once, his tail entered Father Graham and his arms and legs wrapped around him tight. Claws dug into the priest’s back and calves, teeth encircled almost the entire side of his neck. Blood dripped from everywhere the sharp points of Hannibal met the soft flesh of the Father.

But the Father felt only pleasure as he fucked—hard—and Hannibal’s tail explored inside of him. It pressed curiously against the soft, spongey prostate as if it had never entered Father Graham’s body before; as if he didn’t know what would happen. The Father’s face grew redder with each grunt, each thrust of the monster’s tail pushed him roughly back into its hole. There was a loud rumbly cry as his movements grew more aggressive.

“Look at me,” he commanded, both hands jerking Hannibal’s antlers. He kept him pinned, stared into his eyes wild with lust, determination, adoration, greed.

“I am going to purify you with my seed.” The demon bucked against him and bleated, fully aware of what that meant.

“‘For My seed shall be prosperous, and you, My vine, shall give Me your fruit.’” Father Graham quoted the botched scripture, causing Hannibal to recoil even as he met each of the priests thrusts with his own hips and tail.

He shook its head from side to side and roared.

“Yes,” the Father panted, already sounding triumphant. “I will fill you with all that is good and righteous, and you will bear my child.”

The monster made a high pitched sound, growing weaker in its attempt to fight back. Father Graham knew full well the struggle it faced, instinctively driven to hide from the Holy, while being too greedy to stay away.

It was Hannibal that had come to him first all those years ago, after all. After God knows how long of crawling the underbelly of the earth, a cold and meaningless existence. He had seen Father Graham’s light through the cracks. Ate his way through the dirt into the church basement and felt Father Graham’s warmth through the floorboard as he preached above.

It stung at first, sometimes it still does. The prayer, the holy water, the Bible, the white hot hand of a righteous man on freezing skin. The demon had never been allowed such a sweet pain before finding Father Graham, and had grown tired of his usual misery. He craved this blinding light.

The priest took this for redemption, a sliver of hope for the foul beast.

While God barely managed to control the demons of Hell, the Father had this one living under a church. It listened to the passionately-delivered sermons every week and clung to every last word. It kneeled obediently at Will’s feet and let itself be splashed by holy water, singing its face and open, greedy mouth. It rolled over and begged for Bible pages to be wrapped hotly around his dick.

It could be commanded, its desires just had to be catered to—trained. That’s what all this work has been for, and yet today Hannibal had torn it all down in a frenzy. It was time to give Hannibal what he really needed.

Father Graham pulled himself back up into a kneeling position so he could use his hands. They warmed down the length of his monster’s quivering body. When he made it down to where they were connected, he roughly slid both thumbs in alongside his thrusting cock. He smiled at the sound it earned him and stretched Hannibal’s hole wider. That milky slick squished out in the most mouthwatering sight the Father had ever been graced with. It shined all over his cock with each pull out, threatened to drip down his own balls.

The priest watched hungrily for several moments until he missed the taste of cold lips. They moaned and kissed deeply as he collapsed back onto Hannibal. The thrusts of Hannibal’s tail matched the rhythm of Father Graham’s tongue and cock, and they both sounded like wanton whores to his own ears.

The Father’s hips faltered, having to pull away for a sharp breath. Hannibal knew what that meant, could feel how close his priest was in the raw way he was being fucked into. He gave only the barest of defiant noises.

Father Graham snapped back out of it, not even realizing his eyes had closed. He shushed the crying. “It’s okay. ‘Trust in Me with all your heart. Do not lean on your own understanding,’ Hannibal. ‘In all your ways acknowledge Me.’” He felt big, full balls drawing up tighter against his stomach and knew his creature was close too. “Let me own you completely,” one of Father Graham’s hands traveled to grip Hannibal’s leg wrapped around his waist. The creature made a noise that did not at all sound disagreeing. “Let me breed you,” the priest’s other hand laced his fingers through Hannibal’s, not attempting to hold himself up through harsh, uneven thrusts. The tip of Hannibal’s tail pressed roughly, sweetly on his prostate.

Father Graham felt limbs wrapping tighter around him and claws digging deeper for all but a second before he felt it—the silent pressure of someone else attempting to slip into his mind. His head ached with it, but he locked eyes with Hannibal. Permission was granted without a word, and the demon entered Father Graham’s mind at once.

He could hear nothing, see nothing. He wasn’t sure how his body continued moving, but he felt the undeniable bliss of Hannibal’s ass squeezing up and down his length. He felt the tail driving in and out of him with inhuman precision. Felt the large, cold body wrapped divinely around his sweating, shivering form.

Lost in the dark and pleasure, the Father felt the demon pass only a singular word that echoed around the currently empty expanse of his skull.

Will.

There was a strangled cry from the monster’s priest, and then he was sent falling over the edge.

Father Will Graham had no idea when or how Hannibal had learned his name, but he had no time to wonder as he fucked each stream of his cum as deep as he could. He could barely pull out, barely stand to move his fevered body away from the cool relief. Hannibal had already slipped back out of his mind, but his spotted vision barely returned to him before he could finish coming. He sprayed the inside of the demon hot and pure, and even when the thick ropes stopped, he continued leaking.

The priest blinked a few times, desperate to see the source of the pathetic sobbing, moaning, mewling. His eyes focused in time to watch the feral beauty come undone with the bucking of its hips.

Father Graham held the demon’s cheek and pressed their faces close together. “There you go, milk it deep,” he whispered. It was soft, as if too a lover, and Hannibal’s entire body grew lax, sinking against the bed in complete stillness other than the rapid clenching around his Father’s cock and his own spilling between their stomachs. The priest rocked him through it and praised him with pet names no demon had ever been called before.

Even when they both settled, they continued a slow, minute rhythm, instinctively driven to keep Father Graham’s cum pushed deep. When the priest spoke, he was so quiet that even with supernatural ability, Hannibal almost couldn’t hear. “You’re mine.”

If the creature were more human, it might have agreed; might have insisted that Will equally belonged to him. Instead it wiggled its tail deeper, encouraged Father Graham’s cock impossibly deeper.

The priest melted fully, letting his cheek come to rest on Hannibal’s chest. He closed his eyes and listened to the absence of a heartbeat; only deep, slowing breaths. To his surprise, he felt sharp claws gently scrape through the sweaty curls on the nape of his neck before the hand rested possessively across his shoulder blades.

Will smiled, relaxed further, and fell asleep.

[didalexiabreakupwitholgaisback]

Are you hoping for any signings in the winter? I’d love a RW as backup for Graham Hansen but I think they’d only go for someone for free and that limits them to the NWSL (which I love and highly rate). And if I was greedy maybe another outside back

hi anon - no, i'm actually not realistically expecting any signings this winter for us. (and salma is turning into a nice winger option to rotate with caro now!) only because i think all of our action will happen during the summer and it seems like we may ending up using more academy players vs. sign brand new players during this window. 🙏

but yes, if i had to choose, i'd rather we get in developmental players for the positions of winger, dm, and others, so they can learn and train with the best. and focus on the summer transfer window once we figure out the status of the current roster renewals!

well, i do feel like laia aleixandri is for sure coming, and that's another versatile piece to the back line. i think patri can cover keira, and i'd like to see pere try out sydney schertenleib in that role as well. next year we also have dragoni coming back, as well as bruna and lucía corrales who can play on the wing. i would also like to see celia segura get first team minutes too.

i'm of the school of thought that I'd like to see some of the barça b and la masia kids get a shot as opposed to immediately try and find a transfer from another team or league.

[theconstitutionisgayculture]

These are "think tanks" that are part of the government to NGO to government revolving door, and which provide nice sinecures for the Deep State operatives as they take breathers from ruining the world.  Far from distributing rice and beans to needy children, they distribute champaign and caviar to greedy bureaucrats. They are the sort of place you would expect to see a Samantha Power bloviate about saving the world, getting applause from all the people who have been, are, or will be on her payroll in some capacity.  US taxpayers showering tens of millions on these poor, poor think tanks is just one great thing your USAID dollars go to. After all, once you have done your regime change of the day, plunging countries into violent revolutions to replace a democratically elected leader with the candidate of your choice, you need some place to sit back and sip your small barrel bourbon. 

...

Lest you think that the regime change effort is only in foreign countries, once you dig into the details of where all the money goes you see that it doesn't stop at our nation's shores. 

Republicans have criticized both think tanks over their central roles in what’s been dubbed the "censorship-industrial complex," a network of university and think tank researchers that worked closely with federal agencies to censor content on social media. In September 2020, the Aspen Institute organized a "tabletop" exercise with journalists from the New York Times, Washington Post, and executives from Facebook and Twitter to draft a plan for how to respond to a hypothetical scenario in which Russia leaked documents stolen from Hunter Biden, according to documents uncovered by reporter Michael Shellenberger. Many of the participants—most notably Twitter—censored an accurate New York Post story about Biden’s laptop in Oct. 2020. The Atlantic Council’s Digital Forensic Research Lab is led by Graham Brookie, who served on the National Security Council in the Obama administration. In October 2020, Brookie claimed Trump’s "entire strategy" in the campaign that year was "based on process disinformation in this election." Days later, Brookie dismissed reports of Hunter Biden’s laptop as "unverified misinfo." He cheered Twitter’s ban of Trump’s account and "influencers of the far right" after the Jan. 6 Capitol riots as a "welcome" decision. The State Department awarded the DFRLab a $64,000 grant in September to host two workshops at the U.S. embassy in Vienna on "countering foreign information manipulation and interference," and $250,000 the same month for a project to counter disinformation in Moldova, according to spending records.

NGOs delenda est

[florang]

This is how this scenario played out in my head

Reference: Horrid Henry's New Teacher + this page of Mob

[pollunam]

Flaws. Part 5.

Early in the morning, we loaded the gear into the lifeboat. I reloaded the pistols, gathered my hair into a tight bun, and was absolutely ready.

"So, to remind you, we attack at night," Gus repeated. "There will be about ten people for each of us, and," he raised his index finger, "Anders, don’t be greedy."

"My wild days are over," the Viking shrugged.

We climbed the mountain; it turned out to be easier than expected, as if our hands naturally found the footholds. Anders helped me up at the top, extending his hand, "Do you remember our agreement?"

"Yeah," I nodded, "but my wild days are not over yet." I was about to move on, but Anders grabbed my hand, stopping me. "Don’t even think about pulling something."

"What exactly do you mean by 'pulling something'?"

"Anything on the verge of madness and death."

"Can someone please stop this chit-chat and damn well get me off this cliff?" Freddie's voice had a note of wild panic.

"Damn it, Freddie," Anders pulled him up as if he weighed nothing. "And we’ll have a talk later," he threw at me while helping the others.

"What’s the problem?" Graham approached me, handing over some ammunition, "you can always deal with her like this."

"Are you suggesting killing Lassen right in front of him?"

"The plan sucks, but since we’re talking about it," Hayes whispered.

"I hear everything," Anders grumbled, coiling the safety ropes. "Watch out, Hayes."

Graham and I exchanged glances, laughing.

"You guys are like kids, seriously."

"Yeah, big guy, that’s why you love us," Hayes picked up his bag from the ground, waiting for Gus’s order to move on.

"Am I right that he’s going to kill armed-to-the-teeth Germans with a bow?" Graham and I watched as Anders moved forward.

"It’s a skill, probably, I’ve never seen anything like it."

"Gus, it’s like we’re taking one scaredy-cat and two crazy kids to a morning party," Anders turned back to us with an indignant expression.

"It’ll be fun," the captain chuckled.

Gus, Graham, Freddie, and I lay in the bushes, observing the life on the German base through binoculars. A car drove up.

"Gestapo," Gus said, lowering the binoculars, "and that coat isn’t bad."

"That’s too much."

"Alright, we’ll move out at night, meanwhile, keep an eye on the situation."

Shouts of Germans were heard behind us. Two soldiers grabbed their rifles but fell, coughing up blood before they could fire. I grimaced, turning away.

"What happened to them?"

"An arrow," Freddie shrugged.

"And where is it now?" Graham looked around.

"It went through."

Lassen stumbled out of the bushes. "There were two more," he gestured somewhere.

"And where are they now?"

"In Nazi heaven," the Viking shrugged, passing right by us.

"Great, Lassen, go ahead and shoot them with your bow," Gus said resignedly.

"We have no reason to wait any longer," I said, standing up and dusting off my pants.

Anders took out the lookouts; his arrows flew swiftly and accurately.

"Commendable," I remarked.

"Y/N, you’re with us," Gus called me over, "stealthily and quietly."

"Aye-aye," I chuckled, crouching by the container. We sneaked around the building from the back. Gus opened the door, peeking inside. He smiled, shooting the Germans sitting with headphones at the receivers, sticking his tongue out.

"Maniac," I exhaled, peeking into the neighboring building.

"And I tell them, it’s not a dog! It’s my wife!" The German’s joke was cut off quite unfortunately; it probably wasn’t even funny. However, Gus laughed, even when everyone else stopped. Then a burst of gunfire rang out.

I blew an imaginary smoke from my pistol, "How long will we keep strolling?"

"Get down!" Gus yelled, dropping to the floor.

Freddie took up the machine gun, spraying bullets over all the buildings and Germans. The bullets whistled, piercing the wooden walls.

"Is everyone here?" Gus got up as sudden silence fell.

"Except for them, sir," I surveyed the fallen soldiers like toys.

"And here are the new acquisitions," the captain smiled contentedly, approaching an officer.

"Leather is so out of fashion, Gus."

"But it suits me, you'll see."

We set out confidently, heading towards a round building that looked like a terrifying barracks. This was the exact spot where Anders had thrown the grenade, ducking behind the wall. He disappeared into the doorway and the billowing smoke.

"Let’s not rush; he’ll manage," Gus saluted the body of a German in the same coat, "I mean Lassen, of course."

When we entered the building, Lassen was standing there, bloodstained, holding a heart in his hands.

"What is that?" Graham grimaced, "Oh my God, Anders, don’t tell me that’s a human heart."

"Checked for presence," the man replied nonchalantly, adjusting his glasses.

"Thanks, darling, this is just what I needed to make today the most traumatizing day of my life." I turned away, wrinkling my nose.

"Well, hello there, friend," Gus smiled sweetly at the man handcuffed to the wall.

"Oh, God, Apple, how did you get yourself into this," I walked over to the battery from which wires ran to Jeffrey's chest, switching off the power.

"And it would be great to remove these too," he shook his hands, and the handcuffs clinked.

"Be patient," I took a pin from my bun and started working on the lock.

An absolute silence fell, carrying an unspoken question that hung in the air behind us.

"Do you two know each other?" Anders gestured between me and Jeffrey.

"We grew up together," the former German prisoner replied quickly, "By the way, remember that guy?"

"The Spaniard?" We started walking towards the exit.

"Yeah, it turns out his sister was a spy after all," Appleyard began his surprising story.

"I didn’t understand a thing just now."

Gus sighed, "Neither did I, my friend, neither did I," he patted Lassen on the shoulder, "leave it here, I beg you."

Anders dropped the heart on the floor and hurried after us.

"Hey, I grabbed your glasses!"

"And a coat for yourself, I see," Jeffrey smiled, "thank you."

Outside the building, Freddie was waiting for us, having rigged the weapon depots with explosives. As soon as we reached the cliff, there was an explosion.

"Beautiful," Gus observed, "well done."

The entire way back to the ship, we talked with Jeffrey, while Lassen shot us extremely displeased looks. How could this man be so grim after achieving his ultimate dream – a German heart?

The sun was slowly sinking beyond the edge of the ocean, painting the sky with shades of pink. I was chopping vegetables for a salad, watching through the small window as the colors in the sky changed. Thoughts swirled in my head, and an unfamiliar voice kept asking, "How's Anders?" and what was happening. Unfortunately, I had no answers. This strange feeling gnawed at my chest, begging for attention. However, let’s leave it for later. It was time for dinner. I peeked out the cabin door, calling everyone to the table.

“What a treat,” Graham exclaimed, rubbing his hands together as he settled into his favorite spot.

I smiled, “Glad to be of service.”

Gus appeared in the cabin, “I think we should celebrate saving our dear Jeffrey and open,” he rummaged in a drawer, “a bottle of wine.”

“Well, I've shared my news, what about you?”Appleyard asked, sitting next to Gus.

“Have they told you that Y/N got married?” Graham asked, generously piling potatoes onto his plate.

Here we go. Jeffrey choked, Freddie shot a disapproving look at his friend, shaking his head, “Who announces such news while someone is eating?”

“When?”

“So, that's more important than to whom?” I shook my head in disappointment, “I didn't expect that.”

Anders entered the cabin.

“To him,” Gus announced solemnly.

The Viking looked at me in confusion, as if to say, “Again?” I just nodded. Again. It seemed like this would never end. Not that it hurt or upset me, it was more amusing and intriguing.

Appleyard stood up, then sat down again and got up once more, “Congratulations, of course, congratulations,” he extended his hand to Anders, “I still don’t like you,” Anders replied, shaking his hand. Jeffrey laughed nervously. “I won’t even ask why.”

“Enough, that’s it, joke’s over.”

“What are you talking about?”

“We didn’t get married, there was just a situation where I called Anders my husband, then everyone thought it was a funny fact and it started.”

“That’s strange,” Jeffrey squinted, “Is it true?” He turned to the others.

They all shook their heads negatively.

“So, you’re lying to me after everything that’s happened? And didn’t even invite me to the wedding?”

I glared at Anders, seeking support, but he just stood there, arms crossed and smiling. “Now it’s really becoming something funny.”

“Yes, Jeffrey, I didn’t invite you because Anders doesn’t like you.”

Gus chuckled, lighting a cigarette, “That’s right, my friend. We barely convinced him to come along to rescue you.”

“Why do you do this to me?”

“Are you serious?” I couldn’t grasp what was going on.

“Of course not, you wouldn’t do that. And you wouldn’t marry him, but that’s between us.”

I have only one question: why do people act like we’re the only ones in the world when they say something or ask awkward questions?

“Why wouldn’t she marry me?” Lassen snorted.

“I’m not sure, of course, but you seem a bit…”

“A bit what?”

“I don’t know, she just wouldn’t.”

Anger was boiling inside me.

“Well, who among us is not the brightest,” Graham sighed.

“All right,” I rose from my seat, holding a stern and mighty weapon – a towel.

“No, wait, tell me, would you marry me?”

“Is that a proposal?”

“Very unfortunate timing, Lassen,” Gus responded calmly.

“I’m not going to answer that question.”

“So, she wouldn’t marry you.” Jeffrey shrugged.

“You’d better keep quiet,” I turned to him, “and stop talking about me as if I’m not here. None of you have any business in this matter, one more joke and I’ll kill whoever says it and blame it on an unfortunate accident,” I said passionately, “And you, who do you think you are? My older brother or father? I didn’t ask for your protection, Jeffrey. And for the record, I would marry him, but that’s irrelevant, so enough!”

Silence fell.

“Alright,” Anders said serenely.

“Alright!” I barked, leaving the cabin.

“I can understand her,” Gus said, “and each of you got exactly what you deserved.”

Two displeased looks immediately turned to him.

“Why didn’t he get what he deserved? He started all of this,” Freddie pointed at Hessie, who had been diligently and quietly eating, trying to blend into the wall.

I exhaled heavily, releasing pent-up emotions. Footsteps echoed, and I knew it was Anders or simply wanted to believe it, turning towards him.

“I can’t understand you,” he began, “you’re absolute chaotic madness in armor.”

“You know what, you can’t blame me for that because you’re no better.”

“There you go again, who told you it’s a blame? I like that you’re so real.”

“Wonderful, and again, why are you telling me all this?”

Without saying another word, Anders leans in so carefully. Breathing and not breathing, our hearts beating in unison, and he’s so close, he’s so close that I can’t feel my legs anymore. I can’t feel my fingers, the cold, or the emptiness of this ocean because all I feel is him, everywhere, filling everything. And he whispers, “Please don’t kill me for this.”

And he kisses me, placing his broad hand on my cheek, pulling me closer.

His lips are softer than anything I’ve ever known, soft like the first snow, like a piece of cotton candy, like pre-dawn air, like floating weightlessly in water.

This moment seems to embody the very essence of love – tender, gentle, silent. In his touch, there’s a promise of eternity, in his gaze – a reflection of our dreams. The taste of his kiss is not just sweetness, but an entire world where there’s no place for pain and loneliness, where every breath, every touch intertwines into the melody of our hearts. Let this moment stay with us forever, as a reminder of how easily even the coldest hands can be warmed and all flaws accepted.

A moment that lasted an eternity, where time ceased to exist.

“Anders,” I whisper, confused and at the same time tender, connecting with him through an invisible thread.

“That’s exactly what I meant,” he replies, adjusting my hair, “and nothing else.”

[ginsengkitten]

༺ Beautiful Dangerous ༻

༺☆༻

Chapter Twelve

A New Life

"Y/N Monologue"

"If I knew the way the world was, what it would really be like- once I left that hospital and walked out into that rainy night in the west parking lot to meet the mystery writer who came to my rescue, had I known, I don't know if I really would have left so quickly.”

-

That night, a plain clothed Sister Graham had come to your rescue. In a heartbeat, you jumped in and the two of you took off. It was a thrill to the both of you, to leave that place. She had explained how she was forcefully retired due to her lack of “passion”. She explained that she would like to go see her sister back west and thought to smuggle you along with her. The two of you prowling the states in her shotty volvo. It was until one night in a motel that the plans had suddenly made a drastic change.

-

You lied on the sheets of the creaky floral bed, the half busted television illuminating the dark motel room. The Saturday night MTV broadcast was running as usual, it had been months since you last watched television. Hoping to catch something of substance before hitting the road again in the early morning. It was around 9pm when a familiar tune echoed out from the Tv that made your ears perk up. Words for a music video titling on the screen. It was a playback recording of a Guns n Roses concert from the week prior! You grappled your way to the edge of the bed, face at full attention to the screen now. Wow this is them just a week ago performing at a venue in LA. This performance began and seemed almost more polished than the ones you were used to. It became apparent that some sort of creative direction was being applied here. Pyrotechnics burst out behind the band. Carefully curated recording angles for dramatic effect- and - a plethora of scantily clad women sprinkled along the stage itself. Intertwining their bodies with the band and the rhythm. It seemed so….strange. Your fight for a glimpse of Slash was apprehended with a sour sight that suddenly turned your blood cold but your face red hot. A beautiful bombshell swayed herself around Slash as he played out in total enjoyment. Her long nails, soothed over his body as he performed on stage. An unfamiliar smile of greedy drunken stupor washed over his face. His enjoyment of this. This- orgy like display. The way he responded to her touch was organic and seemingly so- real? He seemed happy. So happy and so alive. Energy flowing through his fingertips and the strings as the woman lustered her self practically into his body it seemed. Her own devious grin of enjoyment too. You had seen enough. You shut the Tv off and scrambled back onto the edge of the bed in shock and disgust. This was merely a week old. Look at him. Happy, thriving.

The idea that you belonged in his picture became idiotic in this moment. The familiar echo of betrayal made its way back into your heart. Nausea waved over you as you stunned. All of this, all of this love, pain, yearning, sorrow- for what? For him to be the happiest he’s ever been? For him to be crawling with beautiful women? For him to be on MTV? What reason could he have to want you in this perfect new life he has found? His beautiful face flashed into your mind with a sting. Just as quickly, your own reflection blurring into view in the mirror on the wall beside you. Look at yourself, you thought.Tears had gone past welled and altogether escaped your eyes. You wanted to cry, really you did, but they just didn’t fall this time. You were so exhausted. Defeated. Alone.

It was in the same breath that fury engulfed your every cell. Forcing you to hurriedly pack what items you had with you and dart from the motel before Sister Graham could exit her shower. Broken inside, all you wanted now was to escape everything. Every piece of that girl that lived that life. And the life before it. You wanted nothing to do with any of it anymore.

The neon motel sign showered a hazey glow onto the dark street. A familiarity impressed you with the neon lights. As they always had. Just like the glittering signs up and down sunset. After reaching a small Main Street, you left your run now down to a slow waltz in the dark. Unsure of where to turn next exactly. A thumb stuck out along the lonely highway in the late evening hours. An hour stringing by without a single bite until an unsuspecting pickup truck rolled up along side the curb. With a window rolled down, you met your gaze with a beautiful, stunning woman. A glamorous sight, the most well tailored lady with an extravagant updo and glitter lined eyes. She eyed you precariously.

“Honey you better have a death wish standin out here in the night like this. Ain’t your daddy ever teach you stranger danger? You must be out a your damn mind girl.” The woman scorned sweetly. Her voice was deep and warm.

You stared blankly.

“Where you heading anyways baby?” She asked in a motherly and comforting voice, as if she’d raised you herself.

“I’m not really sure honestly….away from here?” You shrug at the ground.

Another figure ducks forward from the passenger seat. An equally beautiful woman pokes her head over examining you through her cigarette. “We got places to be child, you gettin in or what?” She grumbled in a less friendly manner. Her voice also a warm but deep tone. The first woman rolled her eyes at this remark. “Ignore her. Come with us.” She kindly motioned her head to the backseat.

“You damn lucky we was driving here girl, could have got your stupid ass chopped up like liver out here!” The second woman joked in a lighter, less mean, manner as the truck rumbled down the road. The cab smelled of sweet perfume and somehow, a feeling of uncertainty, but safety, befell you, and you knew wherever you went next, you vowed to leave the old you behind. Here in this town, on this curb, on this highway. A grave of who You once were settled to rest as you drove towards your new life.

[where-fault]

Where Fault…

↝☆↜

“In the past five years, we’d succeeded at identifying a handful of Naturals, but most had been adults. I’d sent a dozen or more to the FBI Academy, but only three had come to Colorado to be trained the way that Michael, Dean, Sloane, Lia, and I had been.”

Theodore Eastwood grew up with everything he could imagine, for the most part. He also got everything he wanted. Nothing could stop his antics, running around the city doing various suspicious tasks. That was until he started noticing things. He was weirdly good at predicting things, whether it be football game scores and winners or lottery ticket numbers. But not all of these things were good, negative, wretched thoughts filled his head. He told his parents, cried to them about it, but he was just told they’d have to check him out, get him on some anxiety medication. On one fateful night, these predictions, everything, starts to take over his mind, his body, it’s all he can think about. When he expresses his concerns to his parents, they ignore him, pushing him back to his room. It haunts him forever, how he didn’t do more to stop it.

Annela Freeman saw her younger years with her sister, running around the parks and annoying neighbors. But eventually, her sister grew up, starting to date the son one of the towns richest families. The Galloways, most notable Vincent Galloway, were known for their shady business, doing anything and everything they could to stay at the top. She could feel it herself: hiding information about what he does for a living. As her sister grows closer and closer with this family, her own family’s rank begins to climb. They’re invited to dinner parties, galas, anything involving that family. But one day, a new family moves in, taking the Galloway’s business by storm. It wasn’t til one particular event, one where she was made aware of a deal that would tank all the businesses of the Galloways. The tension in the room palpable, twitching hands and fumbling words. It’s not that she could read minds, it was more like she could tell why people did things. She approached Graham Fairchild, the leader of this new booming business, and with the flutter of her eyelashes, a reassuring pat and a smile, he was already agreeing to not go through with the deal, how “greedy and selfish it would be of him”. But since that moment, the day they “decided” not to do that deal, it all went down hill. And eventually, trouble came to the hands of her sister.

Eleanore Shepherd lived a mostly normal life: a mother and father, both working, doing their best to support their family. She could always feel the pressure when her father and mother got home from work: her father trying to hide his exhaustion . It wasn’t just the obvious thing she could feel, it was those small things: a blink slower than usual, one muscle pulled tighter than usual. One week it all just felt wrong. Her mother was more tired than usual, she could tell she was losing sleep from the heavy bags under her eyes, the purple going against her weirdly gray hued skin. All the smiles she gave couldn’t quite reach her eyes. The night the week after her 12th birthday, Eleanore went to a diner together, just them. She tried making conversation at first, most being responded to with short answers. It all just felt off, something more than what she had feeling the last couple weeks. Finally, looking up from her plate of untouched food, her mother finally said something more than just a two words answer. This time, it was thirteen. Thirteen short words that still haunt her.

Jude Oleander was the youngest child of Mark Oleander, a powerful businessman running his company in Las Vegas. Her mother, Darla Oleander, was a famous private detective. But one case she has goes wrong. Completely wrong. As her clients trial continues, all she can find is more and more evidence leading to her client. When the trial ends and the verdict is announced to the whole world. It seemed like a victory in the moment, until the case was relooked at years later, revealing the whole truth. Jude could see through to the truth when the case was originally looked at, but it would save her mother if she didn’t tell her the answer. The case’s new outcome causes backlash toward the Oleanders, with Jude’s father’s business starting to collapse as people spread rumors of misdeeds he had done, ones that had been combed through and covered up by his wife. All people believe is that Darla got her hands dirty, worked with the right people to cover the heinous crime. Now, as Jude continues to watch her mother, case after case, she notices a pattern. The way the words on the paper seem so unsure, lips and cheeks twitching with lies. And Jude could tell her own lies quite well, convincing her parents that “No, she’d never hit her brother. That’s just cruel.” It worked for her, worked too well. She held so much power, and what would she do with it now.

[hpowellsmith]

Books of 2024

Here are the books I've read this year; favourites are bolded.

Currently I'm partway through First Class Murder by Robin Stevens, A Blackened Mirror by Jo Graham, and The Grace of Sorcerers by Maria Ying.

January

Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail - Cheryl Strayed (reread)

Dancing on Eggshells: Kitchen, Ballroom, & The Messy Inbetween - John Whaite

Maw - Jude Ellison S. Doyle

The Easternmost Sky - Juliet Blaxland

The Lives of Christopher Chant - Diana Wynne Jones (reread)

Mexican Gothic - Silvia Moreno-Garcia

Toto the Ninja Cat and the Legend of the Wildcat - Dermot O'Leary

Untamed Shore - Silvia Moreno-Garcia

February

Regeneration - Pat Barker (reread)

Jojo: Finally Home - Johannes Radebe

The Neighbors - Jude Doyle

Chewing the Fat: Tasting Notes from a Greedy Life - Jay Rayner

Spear - Nicola Griffith

March

Brute (ed. Steve Berman)

Love Kills Twice - Rien Gray

The Salt Path - Raynor Winn

The Eye in the Door - Pat Barker (reread)

Love Bleeds Deep - Rien Gray

Love Burns Bright - Rien Gray

A Love So Dark - Rien Gray

Valerin the Fair - Rien Gray

April

The Wild Silence - Raynor Winn

A Strip of Velvet - Rien Gray

Martis the Brazen - Rien Gray

Seure the Tempered - Rien Gray

May

The Woods All Black - Lee Mandelo

Hild - Nicola Griffith

June

Manhunt - Gretchen Felker-Martin

Perfumes: the A-Z Guide - Luca Turin, Tania Sanchez

A Guest in the House - Emily Carroll

July

Saturnalia - Stephanie Feldman

Nothing But Blackened Teeth - Cassandra Khaw

Vivi Conway and the Haunted Quest - Lizzie Huxley-Jones

Nevada - Imogen Binnie

Gender Failure - Ivan E Coyote and Rae Spoon

Boys Weekend - Mattie Lubchansky

Small Beauty - jia qing wilson-yang

Cuckoo - Gretchen Felker-Martin

Darryl - Jackie Ess

August

Henry Henry - Allen Bratton

Landlines - Raynor Winn

October

The Scales of Seduction - Rien Gray

November

The Devil Thinks I'm Pretty - Charlene Elsby

Murder Most Unladylike - Robin Stevens (reread)

December

Arsenic for Tea - Robin Stevens (reread)

From the Belly - Emmett Nahil

Mouth to Mouth to Mouth - wilt