#[Confessor Small Talk]

[specialagentartemis]

ykw i am having so much fan watching you be a hater, that i’ve decided to ask for more. PLEASE give us a rant about a book you hated.

Haha aw I'm honored. And uh I hope you don't have any particular attachment to Becky Chambers. Sorry in advance.

But A Psalm for the Wild-Built won a Hugo and I do not get the love. Book 1 was nice enough, yeah. Book 2 had me tearing my hair out.

Sibling Dex is a restless Tea Monk who serves the God of Small comforts on the science-fantasy planet of Panga. I genuinely love the idea of a tea monk - part therapist, part confessor, travels around to the different towns, mixes tea blends for people, lets them talk about their worries and fears and stresses, and gives them, if not advice, then sympathy and a listening ear and some calming tea. This is meaningful work but they're unhappy. After doing this for a while they're still unsatisfied with their life, so they go into the woods searching for self-actualization, and meet a robot named Mosscap, a wild robot that lives in the woods. See, hundreds of years ago, all the robots "woke up" and became sentient one day, then they staged a quiet rebellion against humanity's greed and industrialization by walking into the woods and never coming back. Now, the continent is split in half: humans stay on the Human Side, and robots stay on the Robot Side. The Robot Side is kept wild and humans are discouraged from going in there because humans can't be trusted not to ruin Nature. The rpbots are welcome to come to the Human Side, they just never have. Dex is the first person in a While to venture into the woods of the Robot Side, and the first human since the great walkout to see a robot. Mosscap gives Dex a lot of philosophical pep talks about not pushing themself so hard, about allowing themself to just rest and appreciate the world without feeling like they need to be Providing A Service to justify their existence. It's a nice theme. Underbaked, imo, but nice. Relateable.

Book 2 was a goddamn mess.

Book 1 mostly takes place in the wilderness of the woods, so it's okay if the nice utopian human community Dex comes from was sketchily-built. It Just Works, and everyone Is Just Nice, this is a science-fantasy parable. There were some issues I had with it - like the strict ideological and physical divide between Nature and Humans, and the fact that Dex's religion seems to be the Only Religion In The World, and it's vaguely secular-humanist with the gods being not "really" gods but names given to primordial forces and philosophical concepts, and the religion not really making any demands of its adherents in any way except to become their best selves and devote themselves to what they like... it's potentially interesting, but overall kinda lazy. It felt like Becky Chambers was aware of the idea that having an enlightened-atheist sci-fi utopia is Problematic, so she made there be a central religion, but she also didn't want it to have any of the ~icky~ things religions have, like belief in anything supernatural, or dietary restrictions, or creeds, or codes of behavior, or expectations to make any kind of sacrifice in any way. All the gods "ask" is that humans observe and appreciate the world. But whatever.

In book 2, Dex and Mosscap return to Dex's society, and the book seems to want to explain how the world works, and oh my GOD is Chambers not prepared to do this.

"Observe and appreciate" is all anyone is asked to do. Book 2, A Prayer for the Crown-Shy, is an ode to ultimate virtue of Doing Nothing. There's this attitude I see in a LOT of utopian fiction, where the author is bluntly just not a good enough author to imagine a utopian society where people act like people, so in the world of Panga, utopian society is achieved through 1) homogeneity 2) no one giving a crap about anything.

As far as I can tell, there is the one religion. Most people are Fine with this. Most people are Fine with anything. There are no characters with distinct personalities. There's no money, except there is, except it's not real money and no one will deny you anything if your balance is in the red, even though your balance is available to be seen by anyone - this does not cause any kind of shame or pride or competition in any way, and Dex doesn't understand why it might. There are no hierarchies or governing bodies, people just volunteer to step up when things need doing (this is portrayed as great and not deeply concerning). There are different communities, but in them, everyone is uniformly nice, friendly, and helpful at all times. There are some parts of nature, like the seashore, where people are not allowed to go because they'll ruin the environment, and this is accepted as correct and necessary. Most people live in hippie, pro-recycling, high-tech, end-of-history green communities; there's one group they visit, however, that doesn't trust technology, and lives in a vaguely sci-fi-Amish way. You might think, Dex travelling around with a robot, this might cause conflict! It does not. The people from this community calmly explain their anti-technology position, Dex calmly explains their pro-technology position, and they politely respect each other. "Not bothered either way" is a phrase that turns up in various permutations a lot and is held up as the good, mature, responsible way to be.

There's a scene where they catch a fish for dinner, and instead of killing it, the scifi-Amish guy says "We let the air do that for us, and they let the fish slowly suffocate to death in the air while they all look on solemnly and sadly. This is portrayed as a deep, beautiful moment of them witnessing and honoring the final moments of a living being's life. And not. y'know. them torturing a living being to death so they can keep their own hands clean.

This is what I mean about the valorization of passivity: observing is all you are ever obligated to do. Letting a fish die in the air is better than killing it quickly and humanely, because doing things gets your hands dirty, while letting things simply happen is the Correct way to do it.

At the end, Mosscap and Dex blow off all their promises and appointments and just hang out at the beach chilling out instead, because do what you want forever, you don't have to do shit. This is the happy affirming ending. Mosscap you fucking said you'd meet with the city leaders as the robot ambassador to the humans, did you tell them you were blowing off this commitment because you didn't feel like doing that anymore??? Did you even let them know??????

It is SUCH a baffling book. The theme wants to be "you are more than your job, you deserve to just Be" and ends up feeling like "you don't have to do anything ever, and no one can make you do anything you don't want to do if you don't feel like it, and you don't owe anyone anything and searching for a purpose in your life is just making you stressed out so chill at the beach instead."

The thing that drives me crazy is like. Mosscap cheerfully tells Dex about robots that spend twenty years in a cave watching stalactites form because they think it's beautiful, and those robots are just as much a valued part of society as anyone else. Appreciating beauty and wonder is good enough, you don't need to be productive. And I'm just. fuckin. like. Humans are not robots! Robots don't need to eat or sleep! Humans need food, and clothes, and shelter, and medical care, and if we don't have SOMEONE working to provide that, we Die! Nice as it would be, we CAN'T just all do nothing forever until we feel like it! We can't do that!

And at the same time, the book bizarrely treats wanting a purpose in life as like... almost disordered. If you are seeking a purpose in life it's because you just haven't let go of your guilt and relaxed enough. It's bizarre. Valorization of passivity. Humans aren't meant to be in nature so we just Shouldn't. Doing nothing and having no strong opinions is the most self-affirmed you can possibly be. Letting a fish suffocate is more moral than quickly breaking its neck or spiking its brain. Someone else will do it. Who, if we're all supposed to be resting and only doing what we feel like? Don't worry about it.

"The heart of this book is comfort [...] There is nothing in it that can hurt you." YOU LIAR BECKY CHAMBERS THE FISH SCENE STILL DISTURBS AND UPSETS ME TO THIS DAY

[jewish-vents]

I went to the Jewish quarter in Toledo today and I really don’t know how to feel. I’m part Sephardi, my ancestors most likely lived here at some point. I went to the Beit Knesset they would have went to, the oldest one in Europe, I think— it’s a museum now. Part of the floor was clearly new, and part of the floor was clearly ancient. I took a picture of the ancient part, the part that my ancestors would have also stepped on. There was a cross right under the two orange windows representing the Ten Commandments that Moshe brought down, and right next to that there were Christian murals of baby angels. It was beautiful, but there was such a tangible sadness to it, deadness, almost, that I couldn’t help feeling uncomfortable. The non Jewish tourists didn’t notice it, and that made me even more uncomfortable

There was a gift shop right next to the Beit Knesset. They were selling menorahs, not chanukias, seven-pronged menorahs— and all I could think of was ‘who is this for? Not for the Jewish tourists who come here, obviously, menorahs are for Beitei Knesset, not for home. Who is this for?’ It felt wrong. Later on, I saw the exact same menorahs in a different shop, a street away. This isn’t Judaica— Judaica isn’t mass produced like that, normally it’s handmade. It’s made with love, with care, it’s made with a Jewish touch. None of the items in this gift shop have a Jewish touch to them. Feeling like I was selling out my people, I bought a couple magen David magnets from there anyway

The Jewish part of Toledo feels… I’m not sure how to say it, but it’s like a remnant. You can tell that there was something before this, but that something is gone, it’s been wiped out. And that something was Jewish. And now it just drifts through this town, like dust, never properly gone but never enough than a vague feeling. And on top of all of that is a thick layer of Catholicism, and the knowledge of the brutality that brought this Jewish cultural centre to decimation

Toledo doesn’t really acknowledge what it did to its Jews. There’s a small square on the wall of a very old house, one that most certainly used to belong to a Jew before, that talks about Shmuel Levi, saying how he would rather have died by torture than become a confessor— they call him Samuel there, though, and I feel kind of stupid for how much I resent that. But that’s it. Instead they’re giving museum tours of the two Beite Knesset that used to exist before they were converted to being churches, and then war rooms, and now attractions. They’re selling Judaica that isn’t Judaica, right next to figures of Yeshu bleeding out on the cross. They’ve got small חי tiles on the corners of the street, but all I can think of is the Jews that were slaughtered in this town by the ancestors of the people who are now living in what were their houses

All I can think of is the pork being sold everywhere, and all the chametz people are eating before the sun sets on the last day of pesach

(sorry for the pretentious poetic language, I’m a writer I can’t help it)

Thank you for sharing this. There is something almost haunting about visiting places that were once Jewish but aren't anymore. I once saw a quote somewhere about how Memory is a sixth sense for Jewish people (I don't remember where I saw it but will try to find it again). Reading this reminded me of that.

I don't have many words of comfort. I actually don't live that far from Toledo. Our shul is tiny, but we have a kosher Torah from the time of the Inquisition. We outlived them.

-🐺

[halfetirosie]

🔥🔥🔥Vigilant Observer Edmond's R2 is UNDER-RATED!!!!!🔥🔥🔥 (a self-indulgent long-ass Edssay defending a room I really REALLY liked)

So, I have seen a weirdly large amount of comments online saying that the new SSR Edmond's Intimacy Room 2 sucks. I've seen it called boring and a waste of intimacy gifts.

Peace and Love, I know everyone has different tastes---and I am hella biased towards Edmond---

BUT!!!

I believe any perceive shortcomings are completely out-weighed by the elements this room actually focuses on.

At the very least, this intimacy room DESERVES to be appreciated more, rather than ruthlessly slandered.

1) What Happens VS What Doesn't

Here's a very general outline of what happens in R2:

Eiden initiates a "Guard searching/punishing a Prisoner" scene (Roleplay)

Eiden provokes (/ is a Brat to) Edmond (Dom/Sub)

Edmond use essence to conduct electricity into the baton, and uses the electricity to stimulate his exposed skin and dick (Electroplay + Masochism)

Eiden's provocations eventually turn into teasing (Dirty Talk, + light Humiliation)

Eiden uses the top of his foot to rub Edmond's bulge through his pants

Edmond cums first; Eiden teases/provokes him for it

Eiden cums shortly after from the Electroplay

Perfectly normal, standard intimacy room, yes?

But, from what I've gathered, people are labelling it as boring or under-whelming because:

There isn't any Bondage

There isn't significant nudity/direct skin-to-skin touching

The areas that are touched are relatively small (basically just each character's groin)

Edmond isn't the one that gets off from Masochism (or at least, not from physical Masochism)

These points go against what people's EXPECTATIONS were; since the setting of this event was in inside a prison--a harsh environment full of rough individuals and literal bondage--they expected this R2 to be more physical and rough than it actually was.

Hell, even I wasn't expecting for the room to be as "tame" as it was.

But just because my expectations were subverted doesn't mean I got pissy about it.

BECAUSE THIS ROOM IS STILL FUCKING GOOD!!!

I think a lot of people are ignoring the fact that not all BDSM plays NEED Bondage, skin-to-skin, physical pain (in this case, just on Ed's part), etc. to be satisfying--just because they expected that but didn't get it.

2) Missing the Point - THIS ROOM IS STILL HELLA KINKY (A Closer Look at Ed's Satisfaction)

If you're seeing this post, there's a fair chance you've also seen my GIANT Edmond Post for Struggling Fanfic Writers; which is basically a long-ass character analysis of Edmond.

As I mentioned in that post, Edmond H-scenes have certain themes/kinks that re-occur; and as it turns out, the Intimacy Room we'll be looking at today features a lot of them.

However, for the purposes of this post, I'm going to narrow it down to just 2--the 2 that, in my opinion, were the main contributors towards Edmond's orgasm. (After all, the quality of intimacy rooms with each unique character relies on the quality of that character's experience.)

The quality with which these themes/kinks are executed is extremely impressive, which is why it was satisfying to the characters; and thus, satisfying for us players to watch.

(I have censored this image in the hopes that Tumblr won't snipe me)

When R2 starts, Eiden immediately sets the scene by provoking Edmond; saying that Edmond should do is job as a guard and properly search the prisoner.

Via Eiden's provocations, although Edmond is in a vulnerable position--kneeling on the ground--he is, for the moment, playing the Dominant role.

This is another subversion of expectations, which I find very welcoming. This is possibly the closest we've ever gotten to characters switching roles--only, Edmond doesn't actually "top." (Though, now that I think of it, Silver Confessor Olivine R5 also has a similar dynamic....*shrug*)

While Edmond is acting as a Dom, Eiden is a Bratty Submissive; saying things like "it feels like a tickle!" when Edmond starts electrifying the baton.

Edmond is surprised when Eiden gets excited by being treated in such a degrading way (I spy, with my little eye, PROJECTION); but he's shortly thereafter put into a degrading position himself---

This is when Eiden starts rubbing Edmond through his pants with the top of his foot--which honestly isn't far off from the whole stepping-on-others position that is common in BDSM.

If you ask me, this is a HUGE POINT contributing towards the quality of this room: This submissive position, symbolizing Edmond's gradual loss of power/control.

Eiden also teases Edmond in the hopes that he'll suck him off; but, staying in-character, Edmond refuses him.

In other words, not giving Eiden head--another expectation people had that wasn't fulfilled--was literally a part of the play. It's Sexual Denial.

But, as R2 goes on, Eiden's teasing and dirty talk get more and more intense, and it basically ends up switching their roles in this play.

You know how in a typical Edmond H-scene, Eiden's kissing, caressing, etc. gradually make Edmond lose his mind with how horny he gets?

Well, so far, literally the only thing Eiden has done is indirectly rub his bulge. Rather than physical touch, Eiden's dirty talk is what makes Edmond the most aroused.

DEADASS---EIDEN DOESN'T EVEN HAVE TO DO THAT MUCH. HE DOES SUCH A GOOD JOB RILING EDMOND UP JUST WITH HIS WORDS, THAT THIS HAPPENS:

BITCH, EDMOND'S NIPPLES GET ERECT ON THEIR OWN!!!! JUST FROM HOW TURNED ON HE IS!!!! WITHOUT THEM EVER BEING TOUCHED!!!! THAT HAS LITERALLY NEVER HAPPENED BEFORE!!!!!!!!!

All Eiden has to do to fully switch Edmond from the Dom position back into the Sub--making Edmond lose control over himself--is TALK.

THAT IS SO FUCKING SEXY, WHAT THE HELL???? ♡♡♡

This is why I DO NOT UNDERSTAND people that don't like this room.

I've said before--in the GIANT Ed-Post--that Edmond is sensitive. And his H-scenes do a great job of showing that off---via PHYSICAL TOUCH.

But what this intimacy rooms excels at is expressing how Edmond is sensitive to more than just physical touch.

AND THAT IS THE WHOLE DAMN POINT!!!

Let's look again at the evidence:

Listen. I know this intimacy room didn't have the play people were expecting.

BUT IT WAS STILL GOOD.

Speaking from personal experience--and from the obvious arousal and satisfaction Edmond shows in this room--not every BDSM play needs to be super physical. Submission/masochism is not exclusively about physical stimulation/pain.

What we see in this intimacy room is Edmond being dominated in a psychological way, and that's what makes is so damn kinky and rewarding; both for viewers and for Edmond.

3) The GOD-TIER Technical Aspects

...So...did the people that are heavily criticizing this R2 just, like, have their sound off the whole time??? Or did they only read the subtitles without looking at the actual visuals of this intimacy room??????

Even if, for whatever reason, the find the scenario under-whelming, I CANNOT FOR THE LIFE OF ME picture a situation where the voice-acting and animation couldn't make up for that.

Quickly referencing back to the last section of this Edssay; Eiden is teasing Edmond like the entire time, and that "slightly husky" and "seductive" voice is INCREDIBLE. An absolute TREAT for my ears. And Edmond's panting, gasps, and moans???? HOT DAMN.

These two could be doing the most mundane, "boring" sexual act ever, but if we can hear that the both of them are clearly very into it, then why wouldn't it be a satisfying intimacy room???

And then there's the art---

It's all just SO GOOD, DAMMIT!!!!

4) ╭∩╮(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)╭∩╮♡

I know that this Edssay was unnecessary. I know I spent too much time on it. I know that there's a high likelyhood no one will read it.

And, of course, I know that everyone is entitled to their own opinions.

BUT WHEN THOSE OPINIONS ARE BASED ON SILLY-ASS REASONS, AND END UP SLANDERING MY BOI EDMOND????

AND WHEN THOSE OPINIONS ARE JUST OBJECTIVELY WRONG??? (Peace and love)

I CANNOT, AND WILL NOT, STAY SILENT!!

I WILL PUT A STUPID AMOUNT OF TIME AND EFFORT INTO SCREAMING ABOUT WHY THAT OPINION IS HELLA MISGUIDED, AND I WILL SCREAM INTO THE VOID ABOUT IT!!!!

,; (ง 🔥 ﾛ 🔥 )ง ;,

...

.....

..........

This intimacy room was good, dammit....

Stop being so mean to it......

(⸝⸝o̴̶̷᷄-o̴̶̷̥᷅⸝⸝)

[indigofyrebird]

Dream Keeper

591 words

I liked my mini idea and wanted to expand it a little more.

Tech recorded their dreams. For research.

When they were small, he enjoyed his position of bedside confessor, offering cold comfort in his stiff presence. He allowed only so much, drawing the line when Hunter's nightmares had him clinging to Tech, small shoulders heaving with emotion. He would gently extricate himself from his brother's clutches, smoothing damp hair from their foreheads not unkindly before settling further down on the bunk to discuss the dream.

The human psyche fascinated him and he read all he could on dreams, wanting to understand what was behind each of his brother’s unconscious thoughts.

He knew their secret desires, their fears. He knew what horrors, what dark images lurked in each of his brother’s subconscious minds. He knew them, and he kept them secret. Many times he was asked to keep quiet about a certain dream, as if the dreamer had some kind of control over it and should be ashamed of the idea their mind had created while asleep. 

Tech, ever rational, would explain patiently that there was no need to be embarrassed, it was as natural as breathing. 

Nevertheless, he kept the dreams to himself.

He liked to interpret their dreams for them, to analyze them. His brothers found this comforting, most of the time, but occasionally they would stop him, a hand on his arm, eyes wide. There was only so far a person wanted to delve into the deepest parts of themselves and to share that with their brother. 

Hunter frequently dreamed of losing his entire squad, every last man. These dreams, when he was a cadet only increased after he was given the responsibility of Sergeant. He had grown out of the need to bury his face in Tech's stomach, to cling, but he still felt better if he could talk it through with his brother. He would dream that someone had roughly chopped his hair off with his own vibroknife, leaving it short and jagged, always so relieved when he woke. 

Wrecker dreamed of holding on to his brothers so tightly that he sometimes hurt them in his dreams, their bodies squished flat in his arms when he looked down, horrified. He dreamed of food. Tables overflowing with unlimited food.

Crosshair dreamed of judgement. In his sleep, he was always doing something wrong, his actions picked apart to the smallest minutiae. He dreamed of making the most impossible shots, his bullets curving unnaturally around corners. He dreamed once that a reg saved his life. He made Tech swear on the Marauder never to tell anyone about that dream.

Tech would never tell anyone of the whispered confessions in the middle of their sleep cycle. He listened and he analyzed, his mind making connections where the dreamer could not. 

Tech recorded his own dreams, sometimes waking in the night to speak into his datapad's recording device so he wouldn't forget. If he ever thought it would be beneficial to have someone like himself to talk through a particularly unusual dream, he quashed that idea at the thought of letting anyone see his most vulnerable inner self. He preferred being the dream keeper, never the dream giver.

Tech dreamed of flying, both in his ship and outside of it. He dreamed of beautiful, rare birds, species never before recorded, their songs so complex that he would run out of recording space trying to capture it all. He dreamed of the moon on Kamino, a sight not often seen. He dreamed of a heart full of thoughts and a tongue incapable of voicing them.

[sonderhearts]

Hellooo

Soooo i totally got this plot from one of my favorite books but i saw that you do taboo stuff so what about an au where Ghost quits the military thing because of all the mental health issues that come with it and he tries different things as a civilian, one of them is preparing to be a priest and he achieves it (maybe being a priest in a small town will help to ease his past turmoiled life) but then reader moves to said town, escaping from her family because her ex bf outed her as a "weirdo" just because she has "not so common" kinks like cnc but then she sees how hot the town priest is so she starts volunteering in the church to get close to Ghost, even if she can't have him, not knowing Simon is also having a hard time keeping it together, but then she starts confessing her sins to Ghost and one day Ghost can't take it anymore, he takes his cock out while reader confesses and cums inside the confessionary just listening to her nasty sins

... was that too long?? Is just an idea haha i also hope it's not too much 😥

A|N — god tier stuff!!! You always give me some of my favourite asks. Hope you enjoy darling 🫶🏻

-ˋˏ 𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐌 ˎˊ-

priest!ghost × afab!reader [ongoing]

warnings/tags — 18+, smut, priest!ghost, male and female masturbation, mentions of cnc, sub!reader, tiny bit of degradation, mild sir kink, religious talk.

Summary — you go to confess your sins on some nasty thoughts you have... Simon finds them more than just intriguing.

Part two [not yet done]

Everytime he heard her voice, his body tensed — not because he disliked this girl no, far from it, more because her confessions always brought something out of him that he can’t quite describe. Though it goes against everything he’s working for. Yet, he can’t stop.

She is a guilty pleasure.

Simon sits back on the confessional, placing his large hands atop his thighs, lightly scratching at the fabric as he awaits his next confessor.

Once again, that familiar voice sounds through the box.

“Father Simon.” You greet him, accustomed to this ordeal now thanks to your regular visits to spill your sins upon his non-judgmental ears.

“Thank you for coming, please, confess.” He says, his voice a lower octave than usual, something that always happens within your presence.

For a moment there’s silence and he almost wonders if you up and left. That’s until he hears a small sigh that breaks his train of thought. He’s relieved you’re not gone.

“Father I can’t stop having these shameful thoughts— I dream of them in my sleep and dream of them in the day.” You start, looking down at your shoes nervously. Despite how many times you’ve confessed your thoughts, it never stops being a little embarrassing.

“Please, continue. Confess and be free of your sins, let me listen.” His voice sends shivers down your spine. Despite you never getting to see his face during these talks, you always imagine it. A soft expression in those deep brown eyes, rubbing his thumb over the fabric of his pants — a habit he does when he’s focused, or nervous.

With a deep breath you continue, “I daydream of being taken by someone, usually against my will. Well, sort of against my will. I like it though.”

Now this. This is new to him, more intriguing than usual.

“Oh?” The word escapes him and he cursed himself for sounding interested. “Please continue, let me understand the depth of your sinful thoughts.”

You’re sure you’re mistaking it, though it does sound like he’s speaking a bit different. Lower, every vowel in each word says is annunciated. Shaking your head, you try to gather your thoughts.

“I’m not sure really... I like the thought of someone pinning me down, forcing me to squirm and struggle, begging to be let go,” you gulp nervously. On the other side of the booth Simon fidgets, rubbing his thumb against the fabric of his trousers, other fingers almost clawing into it.

Yet his voice remains composed. For now.

“Hm, that is a rather sinful thought.” He says, albeit kind of dryly. “How does the situation usually turn out in your head?” He tilts his head while asking, rubbing his trousers a little rougher now.

“It usually continues, a struggle as they pin me down, pushing my face down into some pillows while keeping my hands pinned behind my back with one of their’s.” Your hand begins to wander as you speak, softly kneading your inner thigh as you look over at the wall between you and Simon. You desperately want to see his expression.

He feels his chest tighten, the imagery popping into his head involuntarily. He imagines pinning you down onto the bed, watching you squirm and cry out his name while he keeps you still.

Imagining bringing his spare hand between your thighs, kneading your ass softly in his grip. God, he usually wouln’t use the lord's name in vain but right now, that’s all he wants to do.

“Continue.” Simon bluntly says. You can hear the dryness in his voice now, how it’s straining just a tad. You like that fact.

It’s getting to him.

“Yes father,” you hand begins to wander further, palming over your panties under your skirt while letting out a shuddery sigh, “I usually imagine their hands going between my thighs, slipping their fingers through my f-folds.” You whimper out the last part, circling your clit through the thin fabric over it.

A deep, gutteral groan leaves his lips at your whimper, desperate to hear more of your sweet noises.

“How do you imagine it to feel...?”

“Like heaven... Or as close as I can get to it.” Biting your bottom lip gently, you rub yourself softly through your panties, imagining your fingers to be his. Shifting in the seat you spread your legs a little wider — as if you’re trying to accommodate an extra body between them.

“Filthy girl.” Heart bursting out of your chest, you cease your actions just for a moment, trying to process if he actually just muttered those two words. “Is there someone in particular you imagine?”

Simon begins to palm himself slowly, rubbing over his growing erection that’s contained by his tight trousers; the ones you love to watch him walk away from you in.

“Father Simon I—” you whine, not really wanting to fess up about how deep your fantasies go. “I-I think of you.”

“Fuck,” you hear him softly curse and it’s the first time you’ve ever heard him do it, considering his a priest and all. “Good, that’s good.”

He doesn’t shy away from it, instead the furthest opposite. To his acception of this you let your head loll back, staring at the golden light, God rays peering through the shapened holes of the confessional. Quickly you started up where you left off, though this time sliding your fingers under the hem of your panties, collecting up some arousal from your slit and dragging it up to circle your bundle of nerves.

“Mmh... Simon,” he listens to your little whimpers, small pleads along with his name on your tongue. He eats it up, hearing your voice say his name like that only riles him more, so much so he’s unbuttoning his trousers to expose his pants underneath. His cock is beyond hard, almost painfully.

Since becoming a priest he didn’t necessarily stop touching himself but he did slow. It only leaves him feeling more needy for that wet little pussy that he dreams of fucking every night while he strokes himself off.

Now finally he has the sounds to go with those fantasies, as well as a chance to turn those fantasies into a reality.

Gently he prods his tip, noticing the damp patch that’s been forming on the fabric of his boxers. Instantly he groans, tilting his head to the side where you are on the other side of the thin wall separating the two of you. Desperately he wants to meet your gaze, see every expression you make while touching yourself.

“Go on, keep sayin’ my name lass, utter those dirty little sins to me. I wanna hear what you want me to do to you.” Despite not having done this for awhile, he’s not lost his spark. Still the smooth talker he’s always been.

“Simon please,” pressing three fingers over your clit you stroke yourself faster, “I need you.”

You hear him hum in response, as well as you hear his breathing quicken along with the sound of fabric being removed.

“I know, I know. Can’t right now, you know that.” While Simon desperately wants you — wants to do all the things you told him about and more, he’s got that twinge of guilt. Promised himself he’d do better, just do his job and get on with his quaint, quiet life.

Yet here he is, jacking himself off while listening to the confessions of a sweet little sinner that he can never stop staring at in church.

Fuck, he’s always staring. Those pretty white dresses you always wear, just a tad too short for such a religious setting. He likes the way you kneel to pray, dipping your head down and muttering softly to be forgiven. God knows why you were asking for forgiveness. Now him and God get to share that knowledge.

“C’mon lamb keep talkin’ to me.” His formal speech fades, melting into a thicker Scottish accent, shortening his words while he coaxes more out of you.

“I-I’ve wanted you so bad, been thinking about it everytime I come to church. Can’t help it.” Your words fill his ears like his favourite melody, making him softly slide his boxers down so his cock can spring free.

“Mmm, s’that so? So, so sinful.” His palm wraps around his shaft, making him jump at how hard and almost painful it is, “filthy little girl. Knew there was somethin’ going on behind those pretty doe eyes.” He pumps himself slowly.

“M’sorry I’m not a good girl. Been sinning since I started coming here.” Fingers slide over your clit, pinching gently. Every part of you wants him so bad, just to be inside you so bad.

Listening a bit harder you can hear him panting, damn near growling at your words, all that along with the light wet sounds coming from him pumping is aching cock.

You imagine what it looks like... How pink his leaking tip must be, the way it’s probably veiny and throbbing for you.

Sure you’ve seen cock before but you’ve only ever had one boyfriend and he never truly felt good inside you. Not enough thickness, length, never saying anything to you to help you along.

Simon groans, thinking about how badly he needs you. Needs that tight cunt around his cock, bouncing up and down it with his large hands guiding your plush hips. Swiping his thumb over the top, collecting some precum he whines. So sensitive.

“What are you doing to yourself, hm? Describe what you’re doing with those pretty delicate fingers and don’t think for a second I didn’t notice. Can hear how slick you are from jus’ thinkin’ about me.”

You make the most lewd noise in response, rubbing yourself a bit faster.

“Ahn— I’m just circling my clit...” You whine shyly, peering down between your legs to stare at the way your fingers desperately rub around the bundle of nerves, a spark of shame running through you. You’re sitting in a confessional, getting yourself off at your priest talks to you — touching himself on the otherside.

So sinful...

“You poor little lamb, bet you’ve been desperate for me haven't you? Needy f’me.” Nodding in response, you realise he can’t hear you so you do your best to vocalise it.

“Mmh, yes sir.” Squeaking out that name you make his cock jolt in his hand, twitching at being called such a name.

Pumping himself faster, he can already feel his orgasm fast approaching. After the months and weeks that he neglects it, his cock grows desperate for relief. Not only from his rough hand but your pretty cunt that he knows damn well would be so tight that it would choke his cock.

The imagery in his head and it’s almost sending him over the edge. However he doesn’t want to cum yet no, he wants to hear your sweet whines and moans while you finish as he gets himself off to it.

“Simon I can’t go much longer.” Your voice calls to him, making his hand go faster, fist clamped around his length — mouth agape, an almost whine leaving his lips. He’s so desperate but so are you.

“Cum for me lass... Let me listen to those pretty noises. Need’ta hear ’em.” Simon groans at the end, looking down at his cock in his hand. The tip’s leaking, dribbling down onto his roughed knuckles, down the back of his hand. In his mind an image of you pops up, knelt on your knees in one of those dresses you always wear to church.

He imagines those doe eyes, pupils blown wide and filled with desperation for him. For a taste. Sometimes Simon can be oblivious but those looks never went over his head, the way you'd tease him with every word you spoke from those soft lips. How he’d like to put something between them.

“Si— ah! Simon.” His words are the final straw, forcing tingles up between your thighs and through your spine. Your fingers go a little faster now, chasing that high, chasing that feeling that so far only you have been able to give yourself.

Gently you slither your right hand down, slipping a middle finger into your heat. A strangled moan leaves your lips at the feelings, thinking about how his fingers would feel. You always watch him, the way he flicks the pages of his Bible, licking his thumb before turning the page. They’re thick and long, it would probably stretch you with one alone.

You’d revel in that pain.

Panting he pumps himself faster, Keeling over himself as he chased his own high.

“Cum. Cum for me and I promise I’ll make this up to you some way darling I p-promise that.” Simon stutters at the end, feeling himself get close.

His promise is enough for you, you didn’t even expect more than what you’re getting today and you’d have been happy with that. The thought of more than just this excites you.

A new gush of arousal coats your finger and you whine, curling it up into that soft spot that makes you unravel.

“G’nna— gonna cum Si-” a moan rips through your throat, clenching around your finger and stroking your clit almost too roughly. Your cum spills, dripping down your own hand and onto the seat you’re on. Though you don’t notice that.

Hearing you finish sends him over the edge, clutching his cock tightly he pumps only a few more times and then spills out himself. His cum spurts up, going all over his hand and his trousers. Simon groans sweetly, muttering curses and praises.

“Good girl, such a good girl— fuck, such a dirty little thing for me. So good.” He gives it a few more strokes before stopping, already feeling overstimulated.

You pant softly, looking down at how your thighs are covered in slick and sweat. In all honesty you grimace at how desperate you are and were. Getting so worked up for a man who’s older than you, someone who your dad for sure wouldn’t like to see you with. He wouldn’t really like to see you with anyone though.

You hear Simon clear his throat, along with the sound of his trousers being zipped back up and adjusted. He’s still rock hard despite already cumming.

“Thank you for coming to me sweetheart. You’re free of your sins and forgiven.” Somehow he sounds already more composed even seconds after finishing. “Next time you find yourself having such thoughts, don’t hesitate to come to me and confess... I’ll always listen.”

Simon’s words have a sweetness to it, like more than just something dirty. You desperately hope you’re right about that.

“Thank you father Simon. I will.” You reply with a smile, as if he’s looking at you right now.

Carefully you get up, minding the shake in your legs. Brushing down your slightly ruffled skirt you go to the door, slipping it open and peering around for any sign of life. To your relief there’s no one.

Taking a glance at where Simon would be you grin again. “Bye.” With that you take off, walking down the middle isle with a pip in your step and a dumb grin on those lips.

Simon huffs, trying to wipe the smile off his. Even if he feels guilty for several reasons, he hasn’t cum like that in years no matter what he watched or did. He’s going to need that again.

“Jesus...” He mutters, getting up from his seat and making sure it’s all clear.

Opening the door his eyes go to the side you were on. He thinks to himself it’s best he checks it’s all clear too — surely you wouldn’t be so careless?

Of course you would be.

He peers into the tiny room, spotting the leather seat glistening in the warm lighting that shines into the room. Instantly his palm meets his mouth, feeling almost shameful.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to stay an extra few minutes before closing up.

Simon eyes the church, making sure it’s clear he closes the door behind him.

He’s got a few sins to confess of his own.

Tags — @lieblinqs @fullldash

[dream-meister-translations]

DREAM MEISTER & THE RECOLLECTED BLACK FAIRY

ALMA PAST #1

━

I was born in a small village on the outskirts of Norpli, Land of Clergymen. Allegedly, my cries echoed loudly from the moment I was born.

My father was a confessor, and so naturally, from a young age I found myself imbued with knowledge of confession and penance.

Equally naturally, for any boy growing up in such an environment, I had followed in my father's footsteps and became a confessor myself.

Working full time at the nearby church, I also made it my duty to take care of the orphaned children left at our sanctuary.

It was a humble but very impassioned way of life.

ALMA : Now, during this period of purification and enlightenment, you will clean the church for four days and four nights until it shines as bright as the day it came to be.

ALMA : With this penance, your sins shall be redeemed, and your soul will be as pure as freshly fallen snow!

CHILD : Ugh! But four days is so long!

ALMA : Stealing your friend's snack is a serious sin, you know?

CHILD : But...

ALMA : It may seem trivial to you, but all stealing is one sin under God.

ALMA : This you must understand.

CHILD : ...Y-Yes, Father.

ALMA : Alright, now go!

??? : Do you truly think that boy will reflect on his actions, Alma?

ALMA : Hm? Oh, Chris! Good morning!

CHRIS : That kid… He stole from his friend once already. I scolded him in much the same way. I truly wonder if he’ll ever learn his lesson...

ALMA : It's okay. He came to confess on his own this time!

ALMA : He finally understands that what he did was wrong. I have faith he won't do it again, hahaha!

CHRIS : Well, as long as he’s learning... The penance you hold for confessions is far too lenient, Alma. Just like your father's.

Chris was actually one of the orphans living at the church. Being so close in age, we got along well.

And we did so in spite of my carefree nature and Chris's astute seriousness, or perhaps we got along so well because of it...

Yes, I think that so. I think that was exactly why.

ALMA : Hahaha, you worry too much…

ALMA : There is no such thing as a person with a truly evil heart. Sure, they may be tempted by the demons from time to time, but...

ALMA : But so long as one has the will to change, anyone can redeem one’s self. And once they do, they can live the life of a truly righteous man once again.

CHRIS : ...The way you say it, Alma, I can’t help but believe it.

CHRIS :  I will never forget the time you spent three days and nights talking to that man whose sins had shaken the world to its core, and in the end, you made them repent.

ALMA : Oh yeah, that takes me back! He sure could talk a lot! Hahaha!

Being a confessor felt like a destiny of the highest calling. Being an arbiter of the people and enabling them to save their own hearts was my greatest joy.

I would talk to many people in my days as a confessor, from many walks of life, and with each and every person I met, I felt with ever more certainty that there were no inherently bad people.

Often times, the mistakes they made, the sins they would commit, would be a direct result of their unavoidable circumstances.

ALMA : Right! Well, then, let's see who has come to confess today. I'm looking forward to it!

CHRIS : Looking forward to it…? Would it not be more peaceful if nobody came?

ALMA : You might be right, hahaha!

WELL-DRESSED MAN : Excuse me. Is the confessor here?

ALMA : Yep, that's me! Are you here to confess your sins?

WELL-DRESSED MAN : Oh, I’m not here for me, but rather… my son.

MOODY YOUNG MAN : ...................

ALMA : Alright, got it! Then let's talk over here!

Today, as it was every day, I could cleanse another person's sins and purify their heart.

My heart was so full of hope for that…

[mamelukeraza]

My relations with the Duke of Reichstadt (2/?)

Hi guys! Here is the second part for this series! Thanks for anyone who supported the first post! Making content about the King of Rome/Napoleon II always makes me happy and fills my heart with joy. I hope you enjoy it!

The next day, that is to say, June 24, I addressed the following lines to Count Dietrichstein: "I have been pleasantly impressed by the spirit, knowledge and judgment that your august pupil displayed in yesterday's interview; therefore I deeply regret to have neglected in the past the opportunity of an interview that honored and delighted me as much as yesterday's. When we bear such a great name and know from childhood that we are called to such high destinies; when, moreover, we are so well gifted like Your Highness and we live in times similar to our own, it is because Providence has appointed us for great things. Ordinary men, regardless of the rank in which they have been placed by birth, aspire and achieve only ordinary things. But men out of line, and among these I dare to count the eminent student of Your Excellency, they have duties towards society and history, from which they are not allowed to evade. I look forward to the time when I am granted to renew my visit of yesterday, and I desire nothing more ardently than to maintain His Highness in the opinion that he has formed of me and to which our interview the day before, as well as the favorable idea that he was able to conceive the content of some of my military writings, will certainly contribute. only to a small extent. Please accept with my best wishes, etc."

In response to this letter, I received a very friendly invitation for the next morning. This one came across the kindest orders of His Excellency the Emperor, who called me to met him that same morning. On my arrival, I saw so many people waiting in the antechambers that I thought I had the patience to see the duke. We talked to each other with all the grace of people who understand each other. I again expressed my wish to see him claim the throne of Greece, free to set whatever conditions he saw fit. This idea made him smile; but I clearly noticed that his desires and hopes were tending higher, moreover, he was trying to abuse of himself, pretending that he was too young by a few years to wear the Hellenic crown, and seeming to fear that we would not let him rule alone. Then, abruptly, he returned with marked interest to the duties and qualities of the commander-in-chief. His eyes sparkled, his cheeks burned. Count Dietrichstein left us alone for a few moments, and the young prince held me tightly with both hands:

"Speak to me frankly," he exclaimed, "do I have some merit, and am I called to a great future, or is there nothing in me that is worthy of ending up like this? What do you think, what do you hope for my future? What will happen to the son of the great emperor? Will Europe support him in taking some kind of independent position? How do I balance my French duty with my Austrian duty? Yes, if France called me, not the France of anarchy, but the one that has faith in the Imperial principle, I would run to her, and if Europe tried to expel me from my father's throne, I would draw the sword against all Europe. But is there an imperial France today? I don't know! A few isolated voices, a few voices without influence, they cannot carry any weight. Such serious resolutions deserve and require more solid foundations. If my destiny is never to return to France, I seriously wish to become another Prince Eugene for Austria. I love my grandfather; I feel that I am a member of his family, and for Austria I would gladly draw my sword against the whole world, except France."

He spoke to me as one speaks to a confessor, and I received his confidences in the same way. These were projects, of course, very legitimate in themselves and that could only become dangerous in a single hypothesis, the realization of which, in truth, was not at all impossible, but seemed at least very distant. Once again he gave vent to the feelings of filial affection. He said that no one had understood his father; that it was pitiful, that it was slanderous not to give his actions any motive other than ambition; that all his life and all his conduct had been consumed by the great and salutary projects which he had conceived for the happiness of Europe; that Austria, in particular, had ignored him and his own interests; that he had played into the hands of the Russians. The duke added that he wanted nothing more than to earn his spurs by fighting them. He spoke with warmth, but also with that frank and intimate conviction of youth. Then, hearing Count Dietrichstein's voice in the next room, he abruptly changed the subject to address this question to me:

— What memory do you have of my father in Egypt? — The memory of a great figure — I answered. — I understand, if you are talking about Ibrahim, the viceroy; but the populations? They have not yet returned from their surprise; this astonishment, however, has not been followed by any irritation, for the Arabs and the Turks, though they have the same faith, do not get along with each other, and one heavy yoke succeeded another still heavier. — Yes, this is an explanation; but the masses see in a great man only a freak of nature, a meteor that shines for a moment and immediately disappears.

At that moment he exclaimed again: — Oh! If only you stayed with me; but before you, opens a path full of smiling perspectives capable of tempting you. I shook his hand and said; "We'll talk about this later."

And we separated after kissing.

Only three days after this interview, and since in the meantime I had only been able to meet the Duke under unfavorable circumstances, I had a special interview with him that lasted for more than two hours. On the morning of that day, Count Dietrichstein had come to visit me and had complained, with the bad temper of a mother, about the duke's stubbornness and his aversion to any study except military art and mathematics; there wasn't even a german spelling that he didn't want to treat his way.

The count recognized that his student had a good nature, which, however, was hardened by indocility and pride. The duke, to whom I shared, insofar as I thought useful, these reproaches, did full justice to the count, especially to his excellent heart, but in short he praised nothing else in him. He had a definite opinion of his entourage, and he spoke to me frankly and forthrightly about the Emperor and the court, with the accent of an upright heart, but also of self-assured intelligence. He loved his grandfather with a filial love; for from the day he was brought to Vienna as a child, he had found in him the tenderness of a father. He had his ittle corner to play in the Emperor's room, spent half the days by his side, ate with him when the Emperor dined alone, shared with him the pleasures of the resort, finally grew close to him, like a branch grafted onto a foreign stump. He told me all this; but he added that he had not forgotten for a moment whose day he kept and in what place his father's ashes lay. He painted the court for me in colors that were often not very favorable, revealing, being honest, only the nature, the judgment, the heart, the garb of Archduke John. It was impossible for me to dispute the accuracy of his assessments. In many people he thought precisely like me, and, inside him, he did not compromise more than I did.

Like the agitated traveler who sighs after a fountain of living water, he thirsted for information about the situation in Europe. I told him everything I knew and thought. Although in my opinion the fall of Charles X was inevitable, I was far from expecting that it would be soon; as for Louis Philippe and the younger branch, I didn't even think about it.

Rather, I believed in a period of anarchy, out of which the new government would emerge. To whom would this government fall divided? Could it be the Napoleonic party? This point was beyond my judgment. I could give the duke no other advice than to strengthen his judgment by reading the history of past times, in order to appreciate contemporary events; thus learning to distinguish reality and truth from appearances and illusions, above all, meditating on his father's story, realizing the current situation of the world, which contains in germ the near future that will be the result by virtue of the irresistible logic of things; furthermore, to affirm his person in the army and in the diplomatic spheres, to attract to him capable men of great experience, of whom I named several, finally, to enlighten himself by all possible means on the internal situation of France. With a wave of his hand, he indicated his book collection, which contained several hundred volumes. They were historical works and memoirs, all related to the war and his father.

This precious treasure was increasing day by day, to which no obstacle was placed. I promised him that I would choose the best among these works, that I would be a very devoted friend of his and that I would complement with my reflections the observations that the general state of politics would suggest to him; finally I begged him not to confuse legitimate desires with achievable desires, but to never lose sight of them. He was so well trained by his young enthusiasm that he called me his Posa(1). I replied to him: — That's the language of a twenty-year-old. Is there any consistency in this will? That is what, at the moment, it is difficult for me to know.” My defiance seemed to sadden him. He kissed me, telling me: — You're right, I don't deserve you to see in me the son of Napoleon. I comforted him with these words: — Your Posa, yes, but on the condition that you do not imitate don Carlos; I will be for your whole life, and I hope, that it will be a glorious life. He reviewed the entire series of steps to be taken so that, once his military house was established, it could be linked to his person. We had time ahead of us in this regard. He thought he would achieve his ends through his grandfather, the Emperor. I authorized him to do everything he could for this purpose. As for him, he no longer doubted success. (1) Allusion to the tragedy of Schiller Don Carlos.

Source: Mes relations avec le duc de Reichstadt : mémoire posthume / par le comte de Prokesch-Osten,. . . ; traduit de l’allemand [par A. de Prokesch-Osten fils]. (s. f.). Gallica. https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/bpt6k6536278r/f39.item.zoom

[tarnishedinquirer]

Case: Morne Massacre pt 4 (Behind the Castle)

After talking to Edgar I backtracked then jumped down to a patch of grass with a Site of Grace, and from there, down to some lower ramparts facing the sea.

Back here, the castle appeared to be in far worse shape than it was at the front. This area must have been more easily accessible at some point, but now, whatever staircases or ladders leading down had been destroyed.

I found chimera back here as well, but these were not hostile. They were cowering and scraping, practically shivering with fear. Only now did I really get a good look, and I realized where I recognized them from. Master Smith Hewg, from the Roundtable Hold, is one of them!

So these chimera are not unreasoning beasts. Not as cultured as Hewg, but at the same time, in a similar position of servitude. To revolt en masse, they must have a good reason. And for these to cower so instead of joining the frenzy, they too must have a reason.

While I was pondering this, I didn't notice the rotted slimes sneaking up on me. These ones were different from the others I'd seen so far. Less crunchy, with the only bone fragments wielded like weapons rather than merely stuck to their bodies. They also reeked of worse things than offal. Can excrement animate itself in these accursed lands? Perhaps this is what happens to those devoured who still cling to life?

The rooms back here were all too familiar to me. Cells covered in straw to absorb the blood. Torture equipment lining the walls. Bodies stacked high. The dead and dying hoisted in too-small cages. In one such cage a noble ghost, unaware of his fate, lamented

Please, help me. I'm of noble blood. If those hideous mongrels eat me, I'll be forever marred... Anything but that, please! Think of the disgrace!

The ghost's body had long since decayed to ash, without even bones in his cell. This was a lament of the ages, of horrors visited upon him long ago.

I was beginning to get a picture of what happened here. The slime that dropped from the ceiling as I approached all but confirmed it. The slaughter at this castle started long before the chimera rebelled.

In a chest atop a tower, I found a Twinblade Talisman, depicting a hooded figure with the titular twinblade in front. The voice informed me that this was a weapon of the "confessors," a sinister name. A name tied with inquisitions and pogroms. Tortures and mass graves.

Some memories return, these ones clear and true. The reason this slaughter was so familiar. It was the confessors who once held me captive, though for what crime I still cannot recall. I died in a cell just like these unfortunates. This was not the work of these menials, these chimera. The confessors must have wielded them as a weapon. Threatening immortal prisoners with devouring by those presumably untouched by Grace, the horror of becoming monstrous living excrement. They never expected the weapon to turn against its wielder.

Castellan Edgar was a collaborator with these inquisitors. My rage threatened to boil over before I remembered my creed. I am an inquirer, not an inquisitor. I only ask questions. I only find answers. I do not enforce justice. Whatever justice will come will come.

It was now time to end this.

Questions:

Why did the Confessors purge the people of this region, including some of the soldiers?

What was the final straw that made the chimera rebel?

Why did they allow Irina to escape?

[minervacasterly]

~THE DEATH OF THE VIRGIN QUEEN~

On the 24th of March 1603, Queen Elizabeth I of England and Ireland died at Richmond Palace. With her, the Tudor Dynasty died, but not its descendants. Its descendants to the first Tudor monarch, Henry VII, still rule England. They descend from his eldest daughter, Margaret Tudor’s offspring. When Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots and Henry Stewart, Lord Darnley’s only son, James VI of Scotland became King of England, he decided to honor his predecessor’s memory by building a great monument to her. He also ordered that she and her half-sister, Queen Mary I of England and Ireland, would be re-interred and placed together.

While it was only Elizabeth’s effigy that was built for them, Mary was given a small mention in a plaque where it says the following:

“Consorts in realm and tomb, here we sleep, Elizabeth and Mary, sisters, in hope of resurrection.”

Queen Elizabeth acceded the throne when she was only twenty-five years old. She wasn’t the youngest monarch ever, but she was the youngest female monarch up until Queen Victoria. She was crowned two months after her half-sister died, on January of 1559. Her coronation pageants depicted her as Deborah, the biblical warrior who fought for the Hebrews, and Esther, who was not only a Queen, but also another biblical warrior and a figure that Elizabeth I probably saw herself more as than Deborah. Elizabeth wasn’t the only one to be likened to these female biblical figures. Her mother, Anne Boleyn, did it too. When she was crowned Queen of England -the first Queen Consort of England to be crowned with the crown of the Confessor, a crown that was used only for Kings- she was compared to all these classical and biblical figures, among them Esther. Anne used her confessor to bring Esther again when he indirectly attacked Cromwell by comparing him to Haman (Esther’s enemy).As she got older, Elizabeth fashions became more elaborate. They were a mixture of Italian, Spanish, French and English. She used heavier make up to cover up her age. Last year an article talked about Elizabeth’s last years and the writer compared her to the fictional character of Melisandre from Game of Thrones. The first episode of season six ends with this attractive enchantress taking off her ruby necklace. As she is about to do it, she hesitates. Why doesn’t she want to do it? What is she hiding? She is drop-dead-gorgeous. She should be proud she has that figure. But seconds later we find out why.

Her drop-dead gorgeous figure is just an illusion. Without it, she feels naked and powerless. The writer of this article points out that for Elizabeth, dressing outrageously and wearing heavy make-up was her way of still looking relevant. Queen Elizabeth I was a woman who understood the power of symbols and like her father and grandfather before her, she wanted to use her public image to change public opinion, and control whatever narrative she was pushing unto them.

There were some in her court who cruelly dismissed her tactics as ridiculous and laughed behind her back, but the commons thought differently. When they saw her, they were in awe of her. Several portraits made her appear as larger-than-life, and it is this version that has endured. Regardless of your feelings about this monarch or her dynasty, no one can deny the power of her propaganda, whether it is by what was said about her, her writings, her triumphs over her enemies, her legislature, or her portraits in which she holds her hand over the globe while the Spanish Armada is severely beaten by the English navy, or she is next to a group of Goddesses who see her as their chosen one, or she is next to her father, behind her peace and prosperity while her half-sister and her husband standing on the opposite, are shown bringing calamity. Elizabeth is a figure that remains highly popular, and will likely remain so for years to come.

While she was Queen, she took a pragmatic stance on religion. She agreed with a revision to the book of common prayer and with some Protestant reforms, and she gave her support to Protestant groups in Western Europe, primarily the Huguenots in France and those in the Netherlands. But she didn’t agree with their ideology. Some of her ministers did and tried to protect the more radical Protestant reformers in England. This upset Elizabeth. These radical Protestants thought the Anglican church was too pagan, and Elizabeth not a genuine reformer, and sought to make England into a ‘true’ Protestant country. Elizabeth saw this as an attack against her and the institution of monarch which she held as sacred. In her view, anything else other than monarchy was an abomination. Like her father, Henry VIII, she believed the monarch was above the law and accountable only to God. Nevertheless, Elizabeth I managed to have her way on many issues. She instituted the Poor Laws, which were a revision of those implemented by Cromwell during his time serving her father. The Poor Laws did a lot to help the commons but they faced harsh criticism in the 1590s with the over-population crisis. Continuing with her half-sister’s reforms to the Navy, Elizabeth sought other places to trade and besides continuing England’s alliance with Russia, she also looked to the Islamic empires in the East. She and Murad III of the Ottoman Empire didn’t have the best of alliances, with Elizabeth I reminding him that while the two were polar opposites, they had the same enemy, and as a result, they had to stand by each other, otherwise, the Catholic powers would crush them. Whenever Murad III didn’t want to comply, Queen Elizabeth would simply write to his mother, a remarkable woman in her own right, Safiye Sultan. Like Elizabeth, Safiye was both pragmatic and ruthless. The English envoys knew that she held considerable influence and would often seek her favor first before the Sultan. A lot of Elizabeth’s exchanges with Safiye still survive. When you get a chance to read both, you can see the admiration each had for one another.

Despite the difficult relationship with France, Elizabeth I spoke highly of Catherine de Medici. The two women approached each other (through their envoys) with caution, knowing that regardless of how they felt for one another, if one had the opportunity to take her country down to benefit hers, she’d take it.

It’s important to note that while James VI of Scotland succeeded her, Queen Elizabeth I never named a successor. A myth was circulated that she did. At the time of her death, the tale went that she could not speak so she was asked to point to the piece of paper that held James’ names or to the other side that held another one. Elizabeth pointed to James so her councilors decided to acknowledge James her successor. The reason for this is simple. Elizabeth had known about Wyatt’s rebellion, and she had heard about her sister’s uprising against the usurper Jane Grey. In all these instances, she said and did nothing, preferred a wait-and-see approach. If she named a successor, that person, could be just as observant and conniving as Elizabeth I was, and conspire with her enemies or (like she did during Mary I’s reign) know about their plots but not inform the Queen about it. And Elizabeth, in the eyes of many Catholics, was a bastard who didn’t deserve to be Queen (despite her father’s will made it perfectly legal for her) and as such, she approached the issue with extreme caution throughout her reign.

When she died, people mourned for her but also celebrated the coming of their new monarch and his dynasty. As the years went by however, historians have pointed out, how quickly the people became disappointed in James and looked nostalgically to the past. In short time, Elizabeth became a legend.

Images: Elizabeth I’s burial place along with her half-sister’s Mary I, in the Lady Chapel, Westminster Abbey in London, England.

Sources: 

Elizabeth: The Forgotten Years by John Guy

The Private Life of the Tudors by Tracy Borman

Elizabeth: The Struggle for the Throne by David Starkey

Tudor by Leanda de Lisle

I also recommend you visit Westminster Abbey's website. The following is their mini-bio on Elizabeth I: http://www.westminster-abbey.org/our.../royals/elizabeth-i

[tortoisesshells]

top five 1899 characters and/or top five scenes from 1899!

unfortunately, I cannot shut up about 1899. to save your dash, it's all under the cut. tl;dr: I fucking love Maura Franklin.

TOP 5 CHARACTERS: (1) Maura Franklin: she's unhinged. she's the only sane man. she's suffered more than jesus christ. she's caused everyone else to suffer more than she has (maybe). she'll never let go. she has to let go. she accidentally keeps committing adultery with the walking talking open wound masquerading as an authority figure. stealth pants. possibly understands far more than she ever lets on. The most character of all time.

(2) Eyk Larsen: so far past his breaking point that it's almost comic. who put this man in charge of a ship and 1500 souls? If 1899 is a story about grief, then he gets so many of the great character beats about it. He'd practically dead himself. He's going to drink himself into an early grave. A shell of a man with a single, half-deranged thread of hope. A man who was saved from inspiring the worst kind of dad issues in his daughters by their horrible and premature deaths. If his story on the Kerberos is completely disconnected from his reality (whatever that is) I think he should be allowed to commit murder.

(3) Ramiro: I don't know what I can say about him that you and others have not said more eloquently than I, but: a man who is destined to keep secrets - not only his own; a man who deserves rest but is not allowed to, either by his own moral compass or the intolerance of the world around him. everyone wants him as a confessor and confidante, but he struggles to find that for himself! he shines in the crisis, but you wish he didn't have to. I hope there's a version of reality where he and Ángel get to sit in the open sun and enjoy a quiet afternoon.

(4) Jérôme: local man forced to abandon perfectly good Count of Monte Cristo plot by supernatural vicissitudes and his own sense of rights and wrongs. I think he should get to get Lucien with the hammer. I think he and Clémence should ride off into the sunset together. I have no idea how he and Clémence got out of Ling Yi's memories, but I think something horrible and plot-relevant happened in there and I'm raging against the heavens that we'll never get to see the full scope of their escape into the boiler room. He doesn't seem to be running away from his past as much as the others, and sets aside his sprint towards rightful vengeance as soon as he sees the miseries of his past playing out again. I still don't know what I believe his original plan was - murder? simply throwing the medal back in Lucien's face? Did he know himself? G O D.

(5) Ling Yi: I, too, enjoy hiding in small spaces, though I'm more partial to handy closets than miscellaneous equipment lockers. She's isolated from her mother by the great secret they're carrying between them, from any common ability to connect to anyone else, from her own sense of self. It's understandable that she tends to expect the worst, all things taken together. If all this has happened before, how many times has she not been able to say goodbye, either to Mei Mei or to her mother? How long has she been staring the end, not of her physical life, but her life as Ling Yi, in the face?

TOP 5 SCENES: (1) "Have you ever lost someone? It's like you're dying with them. They can move on. You're stuck." I've rambled at length in the tags but: Eyk Larsen's whole life as Captain of the Kerberos is one great circle between Southampton and New York, over and over, without end. He cannot escape it. He cannot, except temporarily, escape his grief over the loss of his family and his failures as a husband and father to have done something. And yet (as we know) none of this is real, and all of this is Maura's doing - maybe. Maura, rightly, looks as though she's been gutted: this is her grief reflected back to her. She cannot move on, and because of it, they're all stuck.

(2) I am a giant sucker for well-done SFX, and the Kerberos descending through the maelstrom into the archive left me gasping. Ling Yi's - resignation? - to seeing the impossible spooling out in front of her, when she's lost the only other person on the ship who cared at all for what she thought makes spectacle into tragedy.

(3) The multiple-way conversation between Ángel and Ramiro and Eyk and Eugen about the survivors aboard the Prometheus having need of a priest in the first-class hallway: the multiple conversations being had at once, the switching between languages, the claustrophobic framing, that Ángel, who has not exactly shown himself to have much care for Ramiro's opinions thusfar, shows himself instead to be frightened and a little desperate to not rock the boat (sorry, couldn't resist) and still concerned for Ramiro's well-being as the masquerade seems to be getting out of hand. There's so much going on in such a little scene!

(4) Maura, wondering where everyone on the Prometheus went, immediately asking Eyk how hot the boilers run - skipping right over that it would be significantly easier, perhaps, to throw bodies overboard than cremate 1500 people. I love how your mind works, Miss Franklin. You're terrifying. (actually, the whole sequence of Maura and Eyk immediately deciding to lie to each other rather than converse is a delight. for a given value of delight.)

(5) The fight on the stern of the Kerberos at the end of the mutiny: the lighting! the drama! the spectacle! the realization that all is lost before the significantly worse realization - they are so far beyond the boundaries of the possible, and whatever controls this place is not operating by known rules! The many reunions mid-fight! Iben wins by being willing to murder a child!

[localebra]

The Saphrax Protocol

Part 1

Phantom Limb: Theophanes the Confessor tells us of the Foederati, the elite fighting force of barbarian mercenaries. From their ranks came Saphrax Tervingian -- the first man to turn a grudge into a career.

Red Mantle: As Council Elder --

Dragoon: Oh, by like a year.

Red Mantle: You, stop it. I welcome all of you to this ancient ritual, the story of Saphrax.

All: The first villain.

Red Mantle: And his loyal comrade, Altheaeus.

All: The first henchman.

Red Mantle: Let Saphrax step into the light and declare his deeds.

The Monarch: I, The Monarch, have earned by might and rite the honor and rank of a Level Ten Villain. I am without fear. I am Saphrax.

Red Mantle: Let us begin the journey of Saphrax -- the first trial.

Dr. Z enters pushing a cart with a small hollow log on it.

Red Mantle: When Saphrax was a boy, he lost his favorite stone in the Log Of The Beast. You must find his stone.

Dr. Z: Yet the beast sleeps inside. Disturb the beast, and his wrath will be quick!

The Monarch: Put -- Put my hand in there?

Dr. Z: And retrieve the stone.

The Monarch: Really? This isn't, like, a thing, like, where I just spin the cart and the stone shoots out and you're all impressed with my cleverness?

Red Mantle: You're not Matthew Broderick. Just put your hand in there!

Dramatic music plays.

The Monarch: Ach. It's really mushy.

All: The beast!

Dr. Z: He lives in his waste. His log has never been cleaned. Do you have what it takes to find the stone?!

The Monarch: Chill out! I'm trying not to get bit!

Dr. Z: Wha-- The beast doesn't bite. What, do you think we'd have a vicious animal up here in space?

The Monarch: He doesn't bite? What-- What was all that talk about his wrath?

Red Mantle: You're touching poop! It's pretty gruesome. I wouldn't do it.

Part 2

Red Mantle: Saphrax, heavy with goat and burdened with terrible chicken, came to the bridge and was stopped by the keeper.

Dr. Mrs. The Monarch: I'm so proud of you, sweetie.

The Monarch: I, Saphrax, wish to cross.

Dr. Mrs. The Monarch: What is your business on the other side?

Red Mantle: Young Saphrax, still angry from taking the awful advice from the magic chicken, was impetuous, and answered...

The Monarch: There, on the other side, your mother waits to willingly fornicate.

All: Oh, no, he didn't!

Dr. Mrs. The Monarch: You shall not pass.

Red Mantle: Then, from the wood, came Altheaeus.

All: The first Henchman.

Red Mantle: And he did aid Saphrax.

Henchman 21: Bridge keeper, behind you stands my troops, 100 strong and thirsty for bridge-keeper blood.

Dr. Mrs. The Monarch: Really? I shall look behind.

Henchman 21: I have made you look.

Dr. Mrs. The Monarch: Hunh! I have been deceived expertly!

All: Altheaeus, the father of "made you look."

Red Mantle: Let Altheaeus step into the light and declare his deeds.

Henchman 21: I, Henchman 21, have earned by might and rite the honor and rank of a Level Ten Henchman. I am without fear. I am Altheaeus.

Phantom Limb: Altheaeus, you have performed beyond that of a mere henchman. You have earned the station of Villain.

Henchman 21: Wait, what? T-This wasn't in my script. Like, me, or my character? Me?

Phantom Limb: You, Henchman 21, have earned the title of a Level 4 Super Villain.

The Monarch: What the fuck? This was my party!

Part 3

Red Mantle: With the taste of love still on his breath, Saphrax made his way to the throne of Emperor Flavius and unsheathed his sword.

The Monarch: Rise, Flavius, and meet your doom. It is I, Saphrax, your sworn enemy. I have bed your wife twice and now leave her to you, soaked in my seed.

All: Saphrax, the father of players.

Dr. Z: Wait! Use my sword, Mr. Monarch.

The Monarch: This isn't wood. This is a real sword.

Red Mantle: Yes. And that is your real sworn enemy. (to Dragoon) You begged me for a line and --

Dragoon: Yes. Yes, of course. Mr. Monarch, here in this ritual space -- that is in space -- anything can happen.

Muffled shouting from Dr. Venture.

Dr. Z: We all know the choice that Saphrax made. But what is your choice?

The Monarch: So... I can just like kill him?

Dr. Venture: (muffled) No. No. No. No.

Dr. Mrs. The Monarch: We will cover it up, and you'll get away scot-free. Your grudge will be settled, and you'll be free to do... whatever.

Red Mantle: We shall leave you two alone. What you say is yours. What you do is yours. What you decide is yours.

Muffled shouting from Dr. Venture.

Part 4

Red Mantle: Your sword is without blood. Emperor Flavius lives?

The Monarch: Yeah, yeah. He's-- He's still--

Red Mantle: Saphrax has decided to carry his grudge without the help of Altheaeus?

The Monarch: (Sighs) You know what I've decided?

The Monarch drops the sword. It clatters on the ground.

The Monarch: That you guys are fucking dicks. I come here to get my Level Ten, and and you give my henchman Villain status and give me the opportunity to kill my sworn enemy? It's a total mindfuck!

Red Mantle: This is the way of our guild, Mr. Monarch. We must hear your decision. Step into the light, Altheaeus.

The Monarch: Fuck it. Fuck it. Fuck it. Sure, let 21 be a villain. I-I'm done. What, you think I can do this shit alone? I'm too old to start again. And now that you guys have my wife and -- and my best friend and -- No! Fuck it! Fuck it, and fuck you! Guild wins. Monarch out.

Henchman 21: You know what? Me, too. I don't want to have to be a villain without him. I don't have that kind of Saphrax grudge. I just want to help my best friend with his hate. Fuck you guys. Monarch crew. Hench for life.

Red Mantle: Good! Good. You have completed the final trial.

Phantom Limb: Saphrax spared the life of Emperor Flavius and swore a blood allegiance to Altheaeus as you have done here tonight.

Dr. Mrs. The Monarch: Sweetie, it was a test, and you passed.

The Monarch: So -- So I'm a Level Ten?

Phantom Limb: You and your Henchman--

Dr. Mrs. The Monarch: Number 2.

Phantom Limb: ...rightfully are Level Ten Villains with all benefits that title is heir to. Congratulations.

All: All hail Saphrax and Altheaeus!

Ward: All hail! Yeah! All hail Saphrax! Congratu-- Look, I don't want to mess up the after party, but we need to get Doctor Venture back.

Watch: I gotta say it. I-I can't hold it in.

Ward: Dude, not the right time.

Watch: I have to! It's just too good!

Part 5

The Monarch: (yelling) Are you kidding me?!

[cheerstotheelites-if]

Oh god it's been a year already??? April 8??? Wasn't it just March yesterday?

Oh, uh, s h i t

Happy 1 Year Anniversary! (Holy crap)

Man, time sure is f a s t. One year of being here with you guys and just vibing. Zamn. That's crazy.

I know I keep saying this, but I really do appreciate all of you guys for sticking around for so long. I never expected the silly little stories with my silly little characters 13 year old me was writing and creating would come to this in the end. It's honestly just so mind boggling, and I want to say thank you. Thank you for showing your support, for being so patient with me, for those that send such fun asks and prompts to answer, and just being so cool in general. Don't say that you aren't. I'll fight ye on that. I also thank the lurkers in my followers, I know you and I don't tango too much with interactions but your likes, reblogs or just generally looking through is enough for me.

I'd also like to thank the mutuals and friends I made in the IF community and in the Write Club Discord server for being so cool and helpful. I never expected to make any mutuals here, and I'm honestly glad I did.

I'm kissing you all platonically on the cheek because you deserve it for being the best. 💙💙💙

Now, for the Anniversary Special content...... I don't have one written. I already have a short one for 1k Followers and is just waiting to be posted, but I forgot to prep one for the Anniversary. 🥲😭😭

I was planning to make a small IF to commomerate it, but college finals reared its ugly head like a disease so I didn't have enough time. So, instead, I'll just give y'all some Beta and BtS facts about this IF before it came to be as it is now. Hope that'll suffice, and I promise I'll make it up to y'all next year. 😭😭

Back in the earliest drafts for this IF, the prologue was supposed to start with a student Magus summoning an eldritch being from the underside of Reflection and it backfiring completely. The genre was supposed to fully embrace supernatural, but I ended up scrapping it instead for what we have now.

Beta Zephyrine was a mean girl diva; supposedly Fleur's opposite and bully. I changed it after deciding that Zeph's better off being Fleur's opposite in a more positive way (the version Zeph currently is) and genuinely being Fleur's friend, than whatever toxic mess the former was.

Eliseo was originally gonna be the big bad because of well… look at him. I ended up not doing that, because… look at him. He's simpable material, unfortunately.

Emery wasn't supposed to exist. I didn't originally intend for MC to learn nor have magic in the original drafts, thus no Familiar needed either, and let them be a non-magic character in the story. I changed my mind when I thought about how unfair that'll be, since that'll just make MC more of a damsel than a person with autonomy.

The 1586 Accident and the Willowsberg family as a whole was originally supposed to stay as a "myth" and unexplored as a whole. They were supposed to be mentioned only in passing and not talked about again.

In the early drafts, Fleur's parents were already dead/gone and she was working as her family bank's CEO at the start of the story. She was an outside figure that you'll meet through either Zephyrine or Weylyn.

Cooper was originally more of a loveable asshole back in his early characterization stages; smug know-it-all that loves to be a mischief maker. I have no idea what change happened to make him the hyper golden retriever he is now, but I don't regret it and I don't wanna know.

The choice of setting the IF in a rural city and in Lumintoile Academia specifically was based on old oneshots I wrote about Weylyn and Fleur 2-3 years ago. If you want to know what those oneshots are about, both of them are confessions scenes with Weylyn being the confessor.

Before Ophelia came to be as the 6th RO, she was originally supposed to be an antagonist, mostly due to a oneshot I wrote about her as a concept character 2 years ago. There were scenes planned where she would fight the cast and drama would ensue, but knowing what I know, I ended up scrapping the idea.

Weylyn's characterization didn't change much from his beta, surprisingly, and I think he's the only one who has retained his beta traits (besides some mild redesigning). I always intended him to be, well, him. The only things that did change are in spoiler territory, but very important to his characterization.

There were supposed to be 2 more side characters that you'll be introduced to in the early chapters with Fleur being a young CEO idea in mind, which were her two younger estranged cousins from her mother's side. I scrapped the idea for now, but they might make an appearance soon.

I had ideas to implement variables that show preferrences and proficiency in what magic MC uses, intending for them (MC) to be a jack-of-all trades instead of focusing solely on one magic. But then I thought about the long list of already existing variables I've written down, and went nope.

Eliseo & Fleur had the most rewrites and rehauls on their characterization. From what I can count and remember until recently, it's 10.

When I was making Emery, and basing him off of the Familiar Poll results, he was intented to be younger, 3 years old to be exact. I decided to age him up to 5 years old, because a) he would be too powerful, b) baby, c) "sir, that is a toddler and fresh out of infancy", and d) he would be too powerful.

The inspiration for the IF's whole vibes are from Kiersten White's 'The Dark Descent of Elizabeth Frankenstein', V.C. Andrew's 'My Sweet Audrina', Laurie Anderson's 'Speak', Kyoukai no Kanata, Wonder Egg Priority, and the Dark Academia aesthetic itself.

This was originally supposed to be a self-contained story, more of a moment in the cast's life than something that will affect them in the long run or be actively going through with time, until I decided to add it into a growing timeline of events alongside other IF's.

[thestressedsimmer]

To celebrate the harvest, Windenberg has a history of putting on festivals for each harvest. The King and Queen find this an extremely important tradition and are teaching their children - especially their son and heir - how giving thanks for the Watcher's gifts through (albeit small) deeds for their citizens is important.

This festival hosted an array of food, bonfires, music, and an archery competition! (Which, unsurprisingly, Sir Upton won in a landslide victory.)

The queen was, for the most part, a quiet observer of the festivities. She never got involved much - usually choosing to hang in the background with a drink. Knowing this, the Dowager Queen had an opportunity to catch her alone.

"My Queen," she called out to her.

It was clear that the younger woman wasn't expecting it. ". . . Margaret?"

"Hello, dear girl. How are you enjoying the festival?"

"Oh, it is lovely. The children are all enjoying themselves and. . . my husband has taken his loss quite well." She joked. Although there was an unspoken question in the air: why are you talking to me right now?

"I am glad." Margaret responded, letting silence hang between them. . . But only for a moment. "I have a sensitive matter to discuss with you. I would ask that we take it into a tent."

"Of course, of course. Lead the way." Margaret was given a decent amount of respect from both of the royal couple - after all, she was the queen. Maybe not Edward's mother, but close enough.

As they entered, Margaret sat down while Katerine paced. After a couple of failed attempts to get her to sit down - the elder woman decided to quit stalling.

"You haven't been very discreet, my dear." She didn't have to say what it was. The young lady already knew - as made obvious by how she instantly sighed and placed her head in her hands.

"I ---"

"Oh, Katerine. Don't look so stressed, dear. You are not the first queen to have an affair, you certainly won't be the last. It is almost a right of passage for marriages such as your own."

The queen sat down finally, sighing deeply. "I. . . I did not intend for it to happen, Margaret. But Edward never looked at me as if I was something desirable, even when we're in bed together it's a means to an end for him. And then he started seeing that woman and. . . and. . ."

"There is no need to moralize yourself to me, dear. That's for your confessor and the Watcher Herself. I am only here to make sure that the royal line stays secure. Which means helping you ensure that your affair doesn't wind up in a little Despenser."

The fact that she knew who it was made her blood run cold. This could have dire consequences for everyone involved - so she just had to pray fervently to the Watcher that this woman had her best interests involved.

". . . And. . . what are you suggesting?"

Margaret smiled - giving Katerine the sort of wisdom that most women never get. How to... ahem... woohoo without winding up with a child. There were multiple different forms of woohoo. And if there was an accident, there were also ways to deal with that. . . But it's best for it not to come to that.

The queen soaked up every word. The goal was never to disturb the line of succession or up-end the royal line - she was a dutiful queen - she just wanted to feel desirable.

[celestynne]

Past Story - Alma (2)

!! Please note that the translations might be inaccurate as i relied on Google Translate and am not fluent in Japanese !!

A Lingering Stench

Well-Dressed Man : “There’s no point in talking at all! I’m going home!”

Alma : “Hey! Our session is still in progress-”

Alma : “Ah, you’re gone already?”

Chris : “… Are you okay? Alma”

Alma : “What do you mean I’m okay?”

Chris : “Don’t you know about those people? They’re quite powerful aristocrats.”

Chris : “I wonder if it’s okay for me to make you so angry.”

Alma : “I don’t feel attacking the person who committed the crime, if that’s the case, I can’t offer forgiveness.”

.

A nobleman’s father requests for a pardon for his son who committed a violent accident. It seems that he consulted with the officials and secretly come to me to settle his crime, saying he absolutely did not want it to be made public. I guess it’s the nature of the country to seek atonement even if it’s just a formality. I wished to guide his son toward genuine reflection rather than a mere formal confession.

.

Alma : “Well, I wasn’t strong enough either. I wish I could have communicated with him more clearly.”

Chris : “Did Alma’s complex questions and answers troubles the nobleman?”

Alma : “That’s right. I hope he returns when he cools down.”

Alma : “I’m certain he will. If we communicate properly, I believe he’ll repent”

Chris : “I’m a little concerned. Alma believes there are no bad people.”

Chris : “There might be people who can’t change, regardless of persuasion.”

Chris : “I wonder if Alma might get hurt by those people someday.”

Alma : “Wahaha, thank you. But I’ll be fine.”

Alma : “No matter how hard they resist; I’ll keep talking persistently and try to change their minds!”

Alma : “Besides, it’s hard for him to continue living with the burden of guilt. Please help.”

Chris : “…Alma is truly kind. I’m sure you’ll become a exceptional confessor in the future.”

Alma : “Even if you praise me, it won’t change much, wahaha!”

Child 1 : “Let’s go to Alma! I’m hungry!”

Child 2 : “Haven’t you finished your work yet? Alma is on duty today~!!”

Alma : “Hey, it’s over now! Let’s have some stew today!”

Child 1 & 2 : “~!!”

Alma : “Well then, Chris. See you later.”

Chris : “Yeah. Cut the ingredients into small pieces.”

Alma : “Wahaha, I’ll try my best.”

Chris : “…”

Chris : “I hope it’s nothing…”

.

Then, after a while

.

Alma : “Haaa… it’s finally over”

.

The reason for the sigh is a certain rumor that is circulating in Naples’ city center. The baseless claim is that ‘My family of confessors is serving an evil God’. Although i went to the city to clear up the misunderstanding, I faces unfavorable glances everywhere…

.

Alma : (I never expected people to believe this. Everyone is completely convinced.)

Alma : (The influence of powerful noble is amazing…)

.

The source of the rumor is that he had come to confession with the nobleman’s son. He seemed to really despise me for refusing to absolve his crime.

.

Alma : (Even when I go to see him, he just turns me away at the door… I have to talk to him properly)

Alma : (Chris also mentioned he saw something suspicious around the cathedral)

Alma : (I don’t want anything to happen to the children for my mistakes)

.

It’s okay, through conversation, understanding will prevail. As I was walking home, I was determined to clear up the misunderstandings next time…

.

Alma : “…Hmm? What is that light?”

.

When the village came into my sight, I noticed a red light that was extremely bright even though it was night time. The smoke rose and the burning smell carried on the wind. Bad thoughts filled my mind, sending chills down my spine.

.

Alma : “That place is amazing!”

.

Rushing in, the familiar cathedral was engulfed in flames…

[fideidefenswhore]

Among the company was John Barlo or Carolo, priest and dean of Westberry, and three other Englishmen, who resided in the house of the commander of Chantrain. The Dean, who did not speak Flemish, was the principal person. He is of small stature, with red hair, sober in eating and drinking, speaking little, and ignorant of music or games. At table nothing was said of any importance, and the English divorce was not touched upon. After supper remarked to him that there was not so much talk as usual about the divorce, and asked whether the matter had been hushed up (appaisiees). The Dean replied, that it was true there was less talk, but the matter had not been hushed up. Asked who put this idea into the King's head; whether it was the late Cardinal, or some other. The Dean replied that the King's confessor, whose name Heylwigen does not recollect, spoke to him about the nullity of his marriage some nine or ten years ago, and that the King was grieved at it, for otherwise he would have wished to continue in this marriage.

"Rapport de M. Loys Helwighen touchant l'home de Louvain." Loys de Heylwigen, of the Emperor's council in Brabant, was supping with the porter of the castle of Louvain on 22 June 1532 [...]

[vanitasnocarteconfessions]

hi admin, the recent confession was clearly a reply to another confession

Recent confession referring to #1250

Maybe it was, but to be honest I can't tell which one this confessor was talking about so I won't delete it.

Last week there were three confessions (#1238, #1241 and #1242) talking about Noé in a negative way. And, as this blog has always accepted all the confessions talking about a specific part of the fandom saying A or telling B about determined characters or ships, I will keep accepting all the complaints about small parts of the fandom. Even though that part of the fandom is most of the times here.

That rule was created long ago to avoid a saturated cycle on the same 3 topics, taking advantage of the fact that this is an anonymous place with no consequences. So don't worry, I won't let that happen.