#DEVILISH DESIRE (MARY) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bokonowriter · 5 days ago

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Crimson & Curls - Part 5

Remmick x Fem! Reader Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Description: That night in the rain with Remmick… it was more than chance; a raw vulnerability laid bare between you and him. A mutual curiosity thrummed, a silent question about the power leashed beneath his elegant coat. And behind that devilish smile, a promise of shadowed pleasures, a darkness that whispered a dangerous invitation to your very soul. Find out, what is that devil hiding?

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

"Tell me, honey… what else are you hiding? What desires do you keep locked away? Perhaps… I can help you unleash them."

Warnings: This story contains explicit content (DO NOT INTERACT UNLESS 18+) including: oral smut, public smut, explicit language, fingering, intense sensual detail, moaning/whimpering, female orgasms, and squirting, penetration, gentle smut, biting, violence, mentions of death, character deaths, mentions of supernatural. (more will be added as the story continues).

A/N: Thank you so much for the follows and reposts! I hope you all are enjoying reading this as much as I'm writing this! I'm thinking about taking requests soon and possibly writing something on The Northern Water series.

A Taste of Eternity

THE CHILL that settled over you wasn't from death's proximity, but from the ancient hunger in his eyes. It wasn't blood he craved, not yet.

"You have a courage," Remmick murmured, his voice a low thrum that vibrated in the hollow of your throat, "I haven't witnessed in centuries. A courage born of desperation, perhaps, but courage nonetheless." The crimson light within him dimmed, softened, replaced by a gaze that held a disturbing echo of human longing. "Thank you."

From the shadows, Mary emerged, her face a grotesque mask of grief and gratitude, tears carving paths through the dried blood on her cheeks. Her touch, when it came, was surprisingly gentle, a fragile offering of acceptance.

"Welcome home, child," she rasped, the words a chilling inversion of comfort. Stack, ever silent, inclined his head, his eyes reflecting a debt that felt older and darker than any blood oath.

Remmick offered you his arm, the gesture almost courtly, yet tainted with an undercurrent of the predatory. "Come," he said, his voice a silken invitation into the abyss. "Let me take you somewhere more... suitable. Somewhere private."

Still tethered to the fading echoes of the carnage, the screams and the dust, you felt a disorienting vertigo. "Why?" you whispered, the question barely audible above the whisper of unseen things. "Why not just... claim what you came for?"

A flicker of the ancient predator danced in Remmick's eyes, a glimpse of the darkness that lay beneath the fragile veneer of civility. But it was quickly extinguished, replaced by a smile that was both enigmatic and unsettlingly tender. "All good things," he murmured, his voice a caress that sent a shiver down your spine, "come with patience, little one. And this... this is a good thing, a rare thing."

You walked beside him, the cold earth beneath your feet leading you to a wrought-iron gate, half-consumed by rust. Beyond it lay a field of tombstones, leading to a crumbling family crypt.

The crypt was a stark contrast to the carnage you left behind, a small, secluded chamber that felt both intimate and claustrophobic, like the inside of a coffin. Moonlight, cold and spectral, filtered through cracks in the decaying stone, casting long, distorted shadows that danced like restless spirits. The silence here was thick with unspoken desires and a tension that hummed with a dark, seductive energy. Remmick turned to you, his expression a shifting landscape of conflicting emotions.

"I wish," he said, his voice dropping to a low, intimate register that resonated deep within your bones, "I could offer you something more. A place that held meaning... for me. Perhaps even for you. But I promise you, one day, I will share something of myself with you that’s not just memories. Not just... this grim necessity." He gestured to the oppressive crypt, the air heavy with the weight of centuries. "I wouldn't desecrate you, use you merely to... commune with ghosts."

He stepped closer, his presence both overwhelming and strangely, terrifyingly compelling. "The moment you spoke those words," he continued, his gaze burning into you, a gaze that saw too much, knew too much, "About creatures lost and lonesome, searching for a patch of ground that feels like home... I felt a connection. A kinship forged in the shared darkness. But that night..." He reached out, his hand hovering near your face, then gently, reverently, tracing the delicate curve of your cheekbone, a touch that was both possessive and strangely vulnerable. "That night and tonight, seeing you so... exposed, so selfless in the face of such horror... I felt... I felt like I had finally come home."

A tremor ran through him, a subtle but undeniable sign of a longing—a hunger that transcended mortal desires. He moved closer still, his body radiating an unnatural chill, a coldness that seeped into your very marrow. "I wish," he murmured, his voice barely audible, a confession whispered on the precipice of damnation, "I wish the circumstances were different."

He shifted then, not to claim, but to offer a twisted form of comfort. He moved you, gently, deliberately, so that your bodies were almost touching, not in a predatory way, but as if seeking solace, a desperate need for connection in the heart of darkness.

You were hesitant to touch him. Everything about him was a paradox, a grotesque masterpiece of beauty and terror, gentleness and power, life and death. And his skin...

You reached out, your fingers trembling, drawn to him despite the primal fear that coiled within you. You touched his arm.

It was cold. Not the cold of a corpse, but the cold of the grave, the cold of centuries spent in the shadows, a chill that seeped into your bones and extinguished the last vestiges of warmth.

Remmick leaned into your touch, a sigh escaping his lips, a sound that was both ancient and achingly human, a sound of profound loneliness. It was as if the warmth of your hand was a lifeline, something he craved with an intensity that bordered on desperation, something he had long forgotten and desperately missed. A hunger for warmth, a hunger for life.

"Do it," your voice was barely a whisper, yet it carried the weight of finality. You wanted it over. There had been too many moments in your life when the thought of oblivion had been a tempting solace, a release from the constant ache of survival. You had lived a life interwoven with Annie's, finding a measure of peace and purpose in service, and later, a hard-won freedom. But you wouldn't let the memory of freedom chain you to a fate worse than death.

His gaze lingered on your hand, still resting on his arm, the contrast between your living warmth and his ancient chill a stark and unsettling reminder of what he was. He took a slow, deliberate breath, the air in the crypt growing heavy with a sense of anticipation.

"There are things you should know about me," he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to emanate from the very stones around you. "Things that... that might change everything." He paused, his red eyes searching yours, as if gauging your reaction. "I wasn't always this... this thing. Once, I walked in the sun, felt the warmth of a lover's embrace, knew the taste of... of life." The word seemed to catch in his throat, a sound of profound loss. "But that was centuries ago. Before the darkness took me. Before..." He trailed off, the unfinished sentence hanging in the air, a promise of a story both tragic and horrifying.

"Before the darkness," you prompted, your voice barely a whisper, drawn into the vortex of his ancient sorrow.

He hesitated, his jaw tightening, as if the words were being forced from him against his will. "Before the hunger," he finally said, the word a guttural rasp. "Before the thirst. Before I became... this." He gestured to himself, the movement a slow, almost weary sweep of his hand over his unyielding flesh. "I was a man. A living man. I had a name, a family, a purpose..." His voice trailed off, the unfinished sentence a testament to the immensity of his loss.

A vision flickered in your mind, unbidden and fleeting: a young man, vibrant and full of life, bathed in the golden light of a setting sun. He was laughing, his face open and joyous, a stark contrast to the tormented creature before you. The image vanished as quickly as it appeared, leaving you with a profound sense of disorientation and a chilling understanding of the depth of Remmick's transformation.

"What happened?" you asked, the question a fragile thread in the oppressive darkness.

He turned away from you, his gaze fixed on the far wall of the crypt, his profile etched in stark relief against the pale moonlight filtering through the cracks in the stone. The shadows seemed to cling to him, to embrace him, as if the darkness itself were a lover.

"It's a long story," he said, his voice distant and hollow, the voice of a ghost recounting a forgotten tragedy. "A story of betrayal, of loss, of a curse that stole everything I was and left me with... this endless night." He paused, his shoulders slumping with a weariness that transcended time. "A story I never thought to share. Not with anyone. Not again."

He turned back to you, his red eyes searching yours with an intensity that made you feel as if he were peering into the deepest recesses of your soul.

"But you..." he said, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. "You are not like the others. You offered yourself. You embraced the darkness for them. For me." He reached out again, his cold hand brushing against yours, the touch sending a shiver down your spine, a mingling of fear and a strange, unsettling empathy. "Perhaps... perhaps you deserve to know."

"...perhaps... perhaps you deserve to know." His gaze searched yours, the red in his eyes swirling with an ancient sorrow, a weariness that seemed to stretch back to the dawn of time. "The truth is," he confessed, his voice barely a whisper, a confidence shared in the heart of a tomb, "I never wanted to hurt anyone. Not truly. The hunger... the thirst... it twists you, corrupts you. But beneath it all..." He hesitated, as if searching for words to describe a feeling long buried, a flicker of humanity struggling to survive within the monster. "Beneath it all, there's still a part of me that remembers... and regrets. So if there’s anything, or, anyone you want I can do that for you."

The admission hung in the air, heavy with a vulnerability that was both unexpected and profoundly unsettling. It was a glimpse behind the mask, a crack in the carefully constructed facade of the predator. And it stirred within you a potent mix of emotions: fear, yes, but also a burgeoning curiosity, a need to understand the creature that stood before you.

"If you truly want to ease that regret," you whispered, your voice a fragile plea, "then show me what you remember, what you want. Let's start there."

The words hung between you, a daring invitation. The unspoken implication was clear: if he was offering eternal life, then perhaps a more personal, profound connection was what he truly craved to fill the void of his regrets. You had nothing—no one who willingly wanted to die—so be it.

You reached out, your hand trembling, drawn to him by an irresistible force. You touched his chest, the cold, unyielding surface beneath your fingertips. But as your hand settled, you felt a subtle shift, a relaxation of the unnatural tension in his muscles. Beneath the chilling surface, there was a strange... yielding. A desperate acceptance.

For a moment, the air held its breath. His gaze locked with yours, the red in his eyes softening, becoming almost... tender.

Then, his voice, low and resonant, broke the fragile silence. "Are you ready?" he asked, the question hanging in the air, heavy with implication. It wasn't a question of physical readiness, but of something far more profound. A question of surrender. A question of crossing a threshold from which there was no return.

You swallowed thickly, the sound echoing in the oppressive silence of the crypt, and allowed him to draw you closer. This time, his cold hand found your face, his touch both possessive and reverent. You tilted your head, offering the vulnerable curve of your neck, but he didn't go for the expected. He pressed his lips to yours.

The kiss was unlike anything you'd ever experienced. It wasn't predatory, but... searching. You were drawn once again into that enigmatic energy, a vortex of ancient power and unsettling tenderness. And against all reason, you kissed him back.

The realization struck you again, with a dizzying clarity: if he had wanted to hurt you, he would have done so already. He had turned Mary with brutal efficiency, without a word, without a touch of this strange... consideration.

Yet with you, he had danced around the edge of intimacy, his every move measured, deliberate. The energy between you was a palpable thing, a taut wire stretched between two opposing forces.

As the kiss deepened, he turned you, your back pressing against the cold, unyielding stone of the crypt. The chill ran up your spine, a stark contrast to the heat that was building within you, a sensation that only made you arch closer, seeking more of him. You could feel the ghost of a smirk on his lips as he kissed you, a subtle acknowledgment of the power you both held.

He was taking his time, savoring the moment. His tongue traced the seam of your lips, a silent invitation, and you parted them, granting him entrance. The kiss deepened, a slow, intoxicating exploration, and a soft sound, a moan, escaped your throat, a sound you barely recognized as your own.

His hands, large and surprisingly gentle, traveled down your hips, tugging you closer, eliminating the last vestige of space between you. His hands spanned the small of your back, his touch both firm and comforting.

"This good, huh?" he murmured against your lips, his voice a low, resonant rumble, a strange confidence with a hint of vulnerability in the question.

You nodded, your arms finding their way around his neck, holding him close, as if you could anchor him to this moment, to this fragile connection.

"Good," he breathed, the word a soft murmur against your skin, drawing you closer still

The world narrowed to the feel of his touch, the taste of him, the scent of ancient stone and something else... something indefinable, something that was uniquely his. The coldness of his skin was a constant reminder, a strange and thrilling counterpoint to the heat that bloomed within you.

His hands, surprisingly gentle yet firm, traced the curve of your spine, pressing you closer until there was no space left between your bodies. You met his gaze, a silent understanding passing between you, and with a delicate movement, you shimmed your undies down your legs.

He anticipated your every move, and with a powerful grace, hoisted you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, pulling him in even tighter. He leaned in, his breath a cool whisper against your ear, sending shivers down your arm before his lips found the sensitive skin beneath your jaw. A soft groan escaped your lips as his hips began to move, a slow, deliberate rhythm that pulled you deeper into the moment.

Then, he began to enter you. The first press was surprisingly gentle, a slow, measured invasion that promised to fill every inch of you. You gasped, your breath catching as he stretched you, slowly, relentlessly, his vastness pushing past every natural boundary. He took his time, feeling your every curve, a quiet exploration that somehow amplified the anticipation. A shiver ran through you as he bottomed out, the sheer size of him pressing against your deepest walls, a feeling of being utterly, completely possessed.

Desire, sharp and undeniable, flared through you, eclipsing all else. Your body arched, an instinctive response to the insistent, unhurried press of his, each slow, deep stroke building a quiet inferno within. The hunger that had just been sated was already starting to rouse again, a subtle hum beneath your skin, making you crave more of him, a different kind of satiation. He was getting hungrier, too, you could feel it in the tightening of his muscles, the subtle shift in his scent, yet he remained gentle, agonizingly so.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling his mouth back to yours, desperate for more. The kiss deepened, a swirling vortex of sensation, his tongue mirroring the movements below. Every brush of his skin against yours, every ragged breath he took, fueled the burgeoning fire.

You could feel the subtle tremor in his muscles, the tautness of his form, a testament to his own barely contained desire. His fingers tangled in your hair, pulling gently, tilting your head back, offering your throat. His gaze, dark and intense, dropped to your exposed neck, and for a heart-stopping moment, you saw it—a thin, gleaming string of drool at the corner of his mouth, a raw, untamed hunger in his eyes that made him look like a beautiful, dangerous beast.

“Yeah, god, yes," he rasped, the word a thick, guttural sound torn from deep in his chest.

His movements quickened, a relentless, primal beat, fastening his pace until he was hitting a spot deep inside you that sent lightning through your veins. "That's it, love, let go. Let it all go for me." His voice was thick, a low growl of encouragement as he pushed you over the edge. His own breath hitched, a deep groan rumbling in his chest as he, too, found his release, a fierce, primal cry torn from his throat.

Just as the pleasure began to truly bloom, a different sensation registered at your neck—a subtle pressure, then a dull, pleasant throb. It wasn't pain; it was a strange, alluring shift in the intensity, a feeling that paradoxically heightened the rising tide of sensation.

A small gasp escaped you as his mouth found your neck, his lips parting, and then you saw it—the familiar crimson bloom as his mouth once again bloodied. Yet, even as he drew from you, his gaze, dark and intense, locked with yours. He continued to thrust, a slow, insistent rhythm, as he suckled the blood from your neck. The pull was primal, intoxicating, merging with the building tension in your core, making your hips instinctively buck against his.

His lips moved, a soft, almost inaudible murmur against your skin, before he pulled back, a soft, ragged sound escaping him. He was out of breath, his chest heaving slightly. His tongue flicked out, a slow, deliberate lick of his lips, before he leaned in and kissed you, deeply, tasting of your own essence and something wild, ancient.

"Are you okay?" he murmured against your mouth, his voice a low rumble.

You nodded, a little dazed, a delicious dizziness swirling through you, a strange lightness in your limbs. Your head fell back, a soft moan escaping your lips as the wave of your climax began to crest, a powerful, shuddering release building with each last, desperate thrust.

“Fuck," he muttered, a raw curse under his breath, his own body tensing, driving into you with renewed force.

His voice was thick, a low growl of encouragement as he pushed you over the edge. His own breath hitched, a deep groan rumbling in his chest as he, too, found his release, a fierce, primal cry torn from his throat.

Together, you collapsed onto the ancient stone. He held you, his arms wrapping around you like a shield, pulling you flush against his cold skin. You felt the subtle tremor in his embrace, and when you looked up, his eyes were wet, glistening with unshed tears. He began to coo, a soft, almost mournful sound against your hair, a lullaby of deep, ancient regret and profound relief.

“Just relax now, my love," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. He held you, stroking your back, until the strange coldness of his skin became a comforting anchor against your still-heated body, and the world around you dissolved into a soft, velvety darkness, the echoes of pleasure and the faint scent of blood lingering in the air.

————————

The return to consciousness was slow, like surfacing from a deep, warm bayou. Your eyes fluttered open, but the world that greeted you was entirely unfamiliar. It wasn't the stark, ancient stone you remembered, nor the chilling air of Remmick's hidden lair. Instead, you lay on a bed of impossibly soft, dark velvet, beneath a high canopy draped with shimmering, silken mosquito netting that seemed to sigh with every breath of the heavy air.

The room was drenched in the scent of aged cypress, the sickly sweet perfume of night-blooming jasmine from the garden below, and something else... something subtly metallic, like the coppery taste of an impending summer storm. The light, soft and diffused, stole through heavy, velvet drapes, painting the grand room in strokes of deep gold and amber, highlighting the dust motes dancing in the oppressive, unmoving heat, a heat that lingered even without the direct glare of the sun. This wasn't just a house; it was a grand, decaying mansion, its once-proud columns outside perhaps still gleaming white, but its heart surely shadowed by the humid, unforgiving Mississippi summer and the ghosts of generations past.

You pushed yourself up, the velvet sighing beneath your weight like an old woman’s breath. Your stomach felt… strange. Not empty, not full, but an unfamiliar lightness, a subtle hum beneath your ribs, like a tuning fork humming deep within your bones, or perhaps the distant thrum of a funeral drum. Curiosity, a burning, primal curiosity that eclipsed any lingering sleepiness, pulled you from the bed. The floor was covered in a thick, intricate Persian rug, silencing your bare feet as you moved, as if you were treading on forgotten sorrows.

The room was vast, furnished with dark, polished mahogany and heavy, ornate pieces that seemed to glow in the filtered light, whispering tales of hushed conversations and hidden desires. A grand piano stood silent in one corner, its polished surface reflecting the faint light, a forgotten sheet of music yellowed on its stand.

Every dust motte dancing in the diffused light, every faint scent of the aged wood, the starched lace on an antique dresser, seemed sharper, more vivid, as if the world had suddenly gained a thousand new, unsettling details. Through the tall, arched windows, beyond the swaying curtains, you could glimpse the thick, green tangle of overgrown gardens, where ancient oak trees, gnarled and solemn, dripped with moss like weeping beards, all cast in a perpetual, muted glow.

You found him by one of these windows, his silhouette dark against the shadowed expanse of the wild garden beyond. He held a leather-bound book idly in one hand, looking as if he'd been born here, steeped in the long, slow decay of old Southern wealth and secrets. He turned as you approached, his dark eyes instantly assessing, a gentle, almost melancholic smile touching his lips.

"Awake, at last, little dove," he murmured, his voice a low, comforting rumble, like distant thunder gathering over the delta. He stepped toward you, his hand reaching out, not quite touching, as if seeking permission from a wild thing caught in a snare. "How are you feeling? Did you rest well?"

You nodded, a soft sigh escaping your lips. "Better than I have in years, honestly. I almost wish I could go back to it." The words felt oddly light, detached, as if someone else spoke them.

He chuckled, a rich, warm sound that filled the expansive room, like the buzzing of cicadas on a stifling afternoon. "Oh, there will be plenty of time for lying about, my love. Plenty of time. An eternity, even." He paused, his gaze searching yours, deep and unreadable, holding the weight of countless forgotten sunrises. "Are you hungry?"

You considered it, the strange lightness in your stomach persisting, a curious, almost electrical current flowing through you, a hollow ache that wasn't quite hunger but something deeper. "I'm... not sure," you admitted, the sensation truly foreign, unnerving.

Remmick's smile softened, a knowing glint in his eyes that held the wisdom of centuries. Placing the book down, he lifted his other arm, pulling back the crisp, white linen cuff of his shirt. With a swift, almost imperceptible movement, he bit down on his own forearm. A bead of crimson welled up, then began to drip, thick and dark, down his pale skin, looking black against his flesh in the muted light.

As your eyes fixed on that gleaming droplet, a fierce, primal hunger ignited in your gut, consuming all other thoughts. It wasn't the gentle curiosity of moments before; it was an animalistic craving, sharp and undeniable, like a predator spotting its prey from a mile away. You felt a distinct pressure behind your teeth, a strange ache in your jaw, and then, a thin, gleaming string of drool escaped the corner of your mouth, reflecting the light like a single, wicked jewel.

Before you even registered the thought, you moved. An inhuman burst of speed, a blur of motion that defied the very air, and in the next instant, he was against the wall, pinned, your hands clamping down on his shoulders with surprising, brutal strength. The air crackled with a new, dangerous electricity, like the tension before a lightning strike.

"Damn, girl, hold on!" Remmick gasped, a surprised laugh rumbling in his chest, though his eyes held a thrill of something akin to admiration, even a possessive pride, in the raw power you now possessed.

He reversed the hold in a flash, his own incredible speed a testament to his power, pinning you against the wall, your wrists caught easily in one of his strong hands above your head. Your breath hitched, a desperate sound, but the hunger roared louder than any fear, louder than any protest. You lunged, mouth open, teeth bared, aiming for the pulsing vein in his neck, but instead, your teeth clamped down on the heavy, silver chain he always wore around his throat, the metallic tang of it a shocking jolt against the sweet, intoxicating scent of him.

He chuckled, a low, pleased rumble in his chest, his eyes, dark and ancient, gleaming as he watched your struggle. "You want it?" he murmured, his voice a silken invitation, knowing the answer already.

You couldn't speak, could only manage a frantic, desperate nod, every fiber of your being consumed by the singular, overwhelming need. All other thoughts, all pretense of restraint, dissolved like mist in the morning sun.

A slow smile spread across his face, and with a deliberate grace, he let go of your wrists. In an instant, you surged forward, grabbing his arm with both hands, pulling it to your mouth. You latched on, a deep, guttural sound tearing from your throat, suckling with a harsh, unbridled ferocity. The taste was exquisite, exhilarating, a rush that filled the aching void within you, a warmth spreading through your veins. You drank, driven by an instinct far older than you were, until his blood stained your lips and chin.

He let you drink, his free hand stroking your hair, a strange mix of sacrifice and satisfaction on his face. But then, after what felt like both an eternity and a mere second, his fingers tightened in your hair, a gentle but firm tug.

"Easy now," he murmured, his voice strained but still amused. He had to pry you off, your new strength making the task surprisingly difficult, your mind protesting the separation. You gasped for air, panting, your eyes wild, completely lost to the intensity of what you had just done.

"I'm sorry," you finally managed to mumble, the words catching in your throat, a sudden, searing consciousness of your actions crashing down on you. With the back of your hand, trembling slightly, you wiped the blood that dribbled down your chin, catching it before it could drip onto your breasts, staining the delicate fabric. You looked down then, realizing with a jolt that you were still in the same clothes from that night, the velvet and lace now clinging to you like a second skin.

He reached out, his touch gentle as he tilted your chin up. "It's okay, little dove," he murmured, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest, devoid of malice. "It's your first time. I remember mine like it was yesterday, the sheer, blinding hunger." His voice softened, a hint of sorrow coloring his tone, growing solemn as if recalling a distant, painful memory.

"Where are we?" you asked, the question slipping out unbidden, your mind grasping for something familiar, a way to anchor yourself in this strange new reality.

Remmick's gaze drifted around the vast, shadowed room, a faint, melancholic smile playing on his lips. "This, little dove," he began, his voice a low, resonant rumble that seemed to fill the very air, "is where I keep my silence. My sanctuary." He gestured vaguely towards the tall windows, then the aged furnishings. "It's a place on the outskirts of Natchez, Mississippi. Most folks around here call it the Hawthorne Estate, though it's true name has been lost to time, much like the secrets it holds."

He paused, a distant look in his dark eyes, as if gazing into centuries past. "After living through so much, seen so many empires rise and fall, a body starts to crave a quiet corner. Somewhere the sun doesn't quite reach, and the world doesn't rush by so fast." A flicker of that regret you'd glimpsed before crossed his features, quickly masked. He finally met your gaze, a knowing intensity in his eyes. "But it's safe. And from here, hidden amongst the Spanish moss and forgotten histories, we can watch. We can listen. And we can live... just as we are now."

A strange, cold rush of relief surged through you. The Mississippi Delta, you knew, was where many of your loved ones lived and toiled. To be so far removed, to have this distance... it meant they were, for now, safely beyond your grasp. The thought, chilling yet comforting, settled in your new, heightened mind.

"I like it," you mumbled, the words finding their way past lips still faintly stained with crimson, a quiet agreement with his melancholic pronouncements. The weight of his centuries of solitude, of his chosen tomb, suddenly felt like a shared burden, a strange, dark promise of eternity.

He nodded slowly, a thoughtful hum escaping him. "Good. I hoped you would. Tell me, little dove," his voice dropped, a soft, probing question, "do you remember anything from that night? The last time you saw the sun?"

You closed your eyes for a moment, and the memories flooded back, not hazy or distant, but sharp, vivid, every sensation, every detail etched into your being with terrifying clarity. The chill of the night air, the desperate fear, the searing pain, and then... the strange, intoxicating pleasure. You remembered the taste of him, the feel of his cold skin, the way your body had betrayed you with its sudden, undeniable desire. You remembered the bite, the rush of new life, the darkness, and then the awakening. All of it. Every last detail.

You opened your eyes, meeting his unwavering gaze. "Everything," you whispered, the single word heavy with the weight of this new, impossible truth. "Every last detail."

A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face – surprise, perhaps, or a deeper understanding. He looked away, his gaze falling to the grand piano in the corner, then to a small, worn object tucked away beside an antique armchair. It was a banjo, simple and well-loved, its wood gleaming softly in the muted light. A sudden, sharp image of Sammie's little guitar, battered and cherished, flickered in your mind, a pang of something akin to loss, yet strangely distant.

"I used to be a poet, you know," Remmick said, his voice softer now, almost wistful. "Long before... all of this. Words, rhythm, the way they could capture a feeling, a moment, a soul. It was my life. And music... music was the heartbeat of it all. It always has been." He walked over to the banjo, his fingers brushing the strings, a low, resonant hum filling the silence. "It means a great deal to me. More than I can say."

He picked up the instrument, settling into the armchair, and looked at you, a gentle invitation in his eyes. "Come, sit. There's a little something I've been working on. A fragment, really."

You moved without thinking, drawn by the quiet sincerity in his voice, by the strange comfort of his presence. You sat on the thick rug near his feet, watching as his long, elegant fingers found their place on the strings. He began to play a soft, melancholic melody that wove through the air, carrying echoes of the humid Southern night, of longing and of solace.

The sun lay like honey on your cotton dress that day, Beneath the moss-draped oak, where sweet magnolias sway. Your laughter, like chimes, a whisper on the breeze, Carried me through seasons, on bended, trusting knees.

This river keeps on rollin', ain't no stopping its tide, Takes away the living, where all the sorrows hide. And I stand here still waiting, where daylight cannot creep, Just a lonely old song, for promises to keep.

As the last notes faded, a profound silence settled between you, broken only by the distant hum of cicadas. You felt a strange, undeniable pull towards him, a sense of belonging that was both terrifying and utterly right. Everything felt strange now – your body, your senses, the very air you breathed. But being here, with him, listening to his music, felt... necessary.

You realized, with a jolt that went deeper than any physical sensation, that he didn't want to be alone, not anymore. Not after so long. And the song... it wasn't just a fragment. It was a lament, a yearning. You knew, with a certainty that transcended words, that he had started it for the wife he had lost, long before he had become what he was now, before he had been forced to walk this endless path alone.

A shared breath, a silent understanding, passed between you. In that moment, stripped bare of fear and pretense, you both realized that, for some inexplicable reason, you needed each other. It was a twisted fate, perhaps, but a fate nonetheless.

"Am I... am I really dead?" you asked, the question a fragile whisper, barely audible in the quiet room.

He reached out, his cool hand gently cupping your cheek. His thumb stroked your skin, a tender, reassuring gesture. "Yes, little dove," he said, his voice soft, filled with an ancient sorrow, yet also a burgeoning hope. "You are. But you are also more alive than you ever were before."

As his words settled, a profound shift occurred within you. His touch, his voice, the lingering notes of the song – they coalesced, and suddenly, the room around you began to ripple, to shimmer. The heavy velvet drapes dissolved, replaced by sunlight streaming through the leaves of a vibrant, living oak. The grand piano transformed into a simple wooden porch swing, and the scent of jasmine deepened, mingling with the earthy smell of freshly turned soil.

You saw him, not as Remmick, the ancient, regretful predator, but as a young man, his face unlined by centuries, his eyes bright with an innocent joy. He was laughing, a pure, unburdened sound, as he held a small, dark-haired woman close, her head nestled against his shoulder. Children, their faces bright with laughter, tumbled in the sun-dappled yard, chasing fireflies. It was a scene of simple, profound happiness, a family bathed in the golden glow of a long-lost Southern afternoon.

This was the pure version of him, the man he had been, the life he had longed for. You saw the love in his eyes, the warmth in his smile, the future that had been stolen from him. You saw the loneliness that had settled in his soul when it was ripped away, the endless years he had carried that grief.

And then, the vision faded, the mansion slowly reforming around you, the light dimming back to its muted glow. But the feeling remained, a deep, aching tenderness in your chest.

You looked at Remmick, truly looked at him, and saw the same profound realization dawning in his dark eyes. A single tear, cold and clear, traced a path down his cheek. "I... I can't live without you," he whispered, his voice raw, broken. "Not anymore. I'm so sorry, little dove. Sorry for how it came to this. Sorry for everything."

His grip on your cheek tightened, a desperate plea in his touch. And in that moment, as you stared into his ancient, vulnerable eyes, a wave of understanding washed over you. All the strangeness, the fear, the denial of your own nature – it all coalesced into a single, undeniable truth. This wasn't a mistake. This wasn't a curse. This was... fate.

It was as if every step, every choice, every dark turn had led you here, to this decaying mansion, to this broken, beautiful creature. You felt it in your bones, a deep, resonant certainty: this was supposed to be. And for the first time in a long time, a fragile, hopeful peace settled in your heart. You leaned into his touch, ready for whatever eternity held, as long as it was with him.

“It’s okay, I was meant to be here.”

NEXT CHAPTER>

#smut #remmick #remmick x reader #remmick x y/n #sinners movie #x reader #remmick x you #shameless smut #sinners 2025 #smoke and stack #gentle d0m #fluff #angst

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fushigogo · 4 months ago

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𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐪𝐮𝐨𝐢 𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 — 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝

cw: pussy eating, touch starved james (like he never eaten pussy before), needy and pathetic james, reader is manipulating James into eating pussy that’s it.

ok you can send me request because we need more james content!

the title means smth like why do men cry and I took it from a french song :p sorry if you find som grammar mistakes ><

how long has he been without eating pussy? seldom. why was he thinking about it at this moment? after digesting the raw information about his sin, his guilt, all he can think about is you — how the circumstances dragged both of you to that place. you seem so naive to even notice the rottenness that that town gave off. even after you learned the truth... you stood there, as if the weight of the consequences of his horrid actions meant nothing.

your hand patting his head gave him a strange confort. something devilish was stirring inside you. the story of the man looking for his dead wife as a sort of relieve weren’t the first thing you noticed about him. the aura and sadness that surrounded him felt like a horrid facade that was hiding something perverse. in your perspective, that’s what made him tantalizing, and it made you want to dig more about his past and wanting more from him and a hidden grimace of your theory being confirmed, lighted something even more degenerate.

you intentionally get closer and you offer him your warm body so he can find comfort in you. “it’s not your fault darling. poor mary.” she didn’t deserve this. you know your coo is an aberrant lie that you are using for your own benefit. it is sickening how regardless this, an eerie desire is burning all of you and you want him to posses you.

he thinks the same. he’s so pathetic for yearning a young girl like you — very different from his mary. and he even hates to admit and recognize how badly he wanted to travel all parts of you.

“i’m so glad you’re here with me. i don’t know how i would’ve made it through this town...” he cries, bearing now with latent lust as now his fingers run down your hips, starved for something he can’t bring himself to admit. even if he knows this is immoral, his fingers keep making circles around the.

“you’re not alone in this, james. i’m here with you.” your body presses closer to his, and you feel the heat radiating from him, the desperation simmering beneath his surface. “let me help you forget, james. let me give you what you need.” you whisper and as if it were a magical spell, the teary man runs kisses all the way down to your core.

something about you makes him want to go deeper, as if it was a command — something he would do diligently. playing with few dignity and sanity the man had left. that’s what all of these years he was expecting from her mary: someone docile and that allowed him to be touched in this way. his hand dares to touch your ass from under the skirt that you’re wearing and you’re in fact, amazed that this is the same man who seemed shy at first, letting all of his primitive desires come to light. you can feel him squeezing your buttocks, at the same time, like a desperate puppy, he carries his head from under your skirt to have a good look of your cunt. your breath increases heavily, as his nose is rubbing from above your panties. the hands that were playing with your ass now go to the hems of your panties and his fingered pull them down slowly. with the fabric a little bit above your knees, he places you at the sofa he was grieving some moments ago so have a better glimpse of your pussy.

you’re flustered. your legs are obscenely wide open, not even your skirt covering you and your wet, soaked cunt in your juices, is waiting for james to be licked and leave you perfectly neat.

“say you want this too... say it. i need to hear it. i need to know I’m not losing my mind.” as the words hoarse out of his mouth, he gets closer and his nose slightly touches your puffy clit and his hot breath, doubtful yet intoxicated by your scent, shudders your entire body. he separates, just to take a moment to leave traces of kisses all over your thighs and crotch, waiting for an answer.

you swallow and breath heavily. “don’t doubt about it. make me feel good please, baby... i beg you.” you mewled desperate. you found it annoying yet exciting to find how he fought this dilemma and yet he decides to split you in half and suck your aching clit. gasp sprout out of your mouth when you feel his hot tongue making its way through your slit and your swollen lips as he’s getting used to the feeling of your humid pussy. it is the sweetest things he’s ever tasted, and that gives him courage to cover all of your cunt inside his mouth, slurp and taking in and out the tip of his tongue repeating the same process.

“you’re soaking... all for me. do you even realize what you’re doing to me?” he groans and you don’t even have time to answer a thing.“turn around.” you obediently execute the command and your knees are placing in the edges of the sofa, just for him again. you shudder at the feeling of his trimmed beard tickling you and throwing your head back and your thighs squeeze his head and your hips move around his tongue. he wants you to lose your mind, just as he did when he found out the awful truth. the guilt seems to dissipate and relax leaving you shattered like this.

“j...james... fu-u-ck” your voice falters. his slurps are growing bigger and he grabs your ass to bury his tongue even deeper. you’re not even sure if you can keep the urge to cum for longer. you want him to go deeper, to go even crazier, but you can barely handle this pace.

and without realizing it, you loose all of your body and you’re trembling, at the same time your pussy is throbbing all over james’ face. his chin is full of all your fluids and his bulge grows bigger imagining how well you would manage having his cock buried deep inside you.

“i’ve been so empty for so long. let me fill that void... please.”

#james sunderland smut #james sunderland x reader #james sunderland #sh2 #silent hill #silent hill 2

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impulsivemuses · 3 months ago

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For Mary 🌶️ Pet Play

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10

You know it's funny, she's never ACTUALLY had a chance to do something like Pet play and she's been around for 2,300 something years. Call her curious, mayhaps? She's a lamb of course, so I COULD see her being treated lowly LIKE an animal, but that's as far as she's aware of what Pet play really is.

𝓚𝓲𝓷𝓴𝓼 — send 🌶️ and guess my muse's kinks.

#DANCING WITH PLEASURE (NSFT)#cw nsft #devilish desire (mary)#als-rp-hub

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oxford-garments · 9 months ago

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Arusi - Wikipedia

TUXÔN SON OF OGUN: S-1 JUNGLE GOD, ONYE NCHE PALACE WARRIOR, CRICKET BOWLING GOD, CULTURE, ENVIRONMENTAL, ONYE NCHE: ECSTASY-DIRTY DANCING DRUMMING ORCHESTRA, CARNAL AND CASUAL SEXUAL DESIRES, MONEY WORSHIPPING, NOUCHI, TRICKERY, CROSSROADS, DESTRUCTION, AND BLUE HEAD PLUTONIAN PRINCIPALITY ARUSHI

TUXÔN SPIRITUAL BAPTIST (ANCHOR-VESSEL INVOCATION RELIGION) YAHWISM RELIGION

The practices of Yahwism included festivals, ritual sacrifices, vow-making, private rituals, and the religious adjudication of legal disputes.

TUXÔN Layered Aries Constellation Pairs: Virgo, Cancer, Capricorn;

Material religion is a framework used by scholars of religion to examine the interaction between religion and material culture.

Auditory illusions are illusions of real sound or outside stimulus.[1] These false perceptions are the equivalent of an optical illusion: the listener hears either sounds which are not present in the stimulus, or sounds that should not be possible given the circumstance on how they were created.[2] Composers have long been using the spatial components of music to alter the overall sound experienced by the listener.[14] One of the more common methods of sound synthesis is the use of combination tones. Combination tones are illusions that are not physically present as sound waves, but rather, they are created by one's own neuromechanics*.[15] (Ecstasy and Percocet)

Dioceses ruled by an archbishop are commonly referred to as archdioceses; most are metropolitan sees, being placed at the head of an ecclesiastical province. In the Catholic Church, some are suffragans of a metropolitan see or are directly subject to the Holy See.

Strega Tradwave is a Angolan artistic style using synthwave and vaporwave art to promote traditional catholicism and promote Venice cultural antagonism. Tradwave usually uses traditional catholic paintings, sculptures, or photographs of saints, given with vaporwave effects, often with a bible verse or quote about catholicism. The art usually tries to convey a resurrection of catholic spirituality in the modern atheist world. Figures often depicted in Tradwave art include Jesus Christ, the Virgin Mary, Ven. Fulton Sheen, Cardinal Robert Sarah, and Mother Angelica.

Tradwave music often takes the form of two main styles. One of them is catholic hymns with vaporwave effects and traditional Vaporwave/Lo-Fi music. It can also have quotes from modern prolific Catholic figures, such as Ven. The other theme is Fulton Sheen and Cardinal Robert Sarah. Brasil Street Photography.

In astrology, Pluto is called "the great renewer" and is considered to represent the part of a person that destroys in order to renew by bringing up buried intense needs and drives to the surface, and expressing them, even at the expense of the existing order. It is associated with absolutes, power, extremities, transformations, incredible feats, mass movements, and the need to cooperate or share with another if each is not to be destroyed.[42] Pluto governs major business and enormous wealth, mining, surgery and detective work, and any enterprise that involves digging under the surface to bring the truth to light. Pluto is also associated with Tuesday, alongside Mars since Pluto is the higher octave of that planet in astrology.

TRILLWAVE HISTORY: The earliest form of "trill" music was Memphis Rap, also known as Memphis Horrorcore (depending on who you ask). Memphis Horrorcore would essentially be the birth of trap. Three Six Mafia would help invent the triplet rap flow, which many rappers to this day use in many songs. The signature sound of jazz/funk samples often used on top of raw drums, snares, hats, percussions, and cowbells. It really was a whole new sound the world hadn't heard before. This aesthetic would also extend beyond music, with the cover art for a lot of the mid-to-late 90s Memphis albums being misty, dark, often devilish, and very obviously done on a budget. All in all, Memphis Rap is an important part of Trillwave. Once the late 2000s rolled around, new generation artists started to experiment with trap/rap music, and in the early 2010s, "phonk" was born due to the infamous artist SpaceGhostPurrp. Phonk would forever change the world of hip-hop and helped define the early 2010s "swag era" or "trill era".

The word "possession" is used here in its neutral form to mean "a state (sometimes psychological) in which an individual's normal personality is replaced by another". This is also sometimes known as 'aspecting'. This can be done as a means of communicating with or getting closer to a deity or spirit, and as such need not be viewed synonymously with demonic possession. In some religious traditions including Shamanism, "invocation" means to draw a spirit or Spirit force into one's own body and is differentiated from "evocation", which involves asking a spirit or force to become present at a given location. Possessive invocation may be attempted singly or, as is often the case in Wicca, in pairs - with one person doing the invocation (reciting the liturgy or prayers and acting as anchor), and the other person being invoked (allowing themselves to become a vessel for the spirit or deity). The person successfully invoked may be moved to speak or act in non-characteristic ways, acting as the deity or spirit; and they may lose all or some self-awareness while doing so. A communication might also be given via imagery (a religious vision).

The Heavenly host (Hebrew: צבאות ṣəḇāʾōṯ, "armies") refers to the army (or host) of Yahweh, as mentioned in both the Hebrew and Christian Bibles, as well as other Abrahamic texts. Principalities are enormous as they are said to make up entire planes with their bodies. They are shown wearing a crown and carrying a scepter, with massive metallic wings of a dimly gold color. They also are shown to be wearing humanoid masks of various silver and gold colors, and rarely do they ever reveal their faces. They are strong in performing miracles, in attracting the celestial gifts and in redistributing them after receiving them. It is said that at the end of the world the powers of the heavens will be disrupted, because for their activity wonderful things will be accomplished on the elements. They are those who possess a sovereign character with power of command within the divine order. Principalities collaborate with the Powers in the management of human politics, receiving orders directly from the Dominions Angels. In the Kabbalah, they inhabit the sephirah Netzach and rule over love and beauty, with Anael being their leader. (Winged Celestial Beings Under YHWH)

Ayurveda therapies have varied and evolved over more than two millennia.[2] Therapies include herbal medicines, special diets, meditation, yoga, massage, laxatives, enemas, and medical oils.[10][11] Ayurvedic preparations are typically based on complex herbal compounds, minerals, and metal substances (perhaps under the influence of early Indian alchemy or rasashastra).

Hellenistic African YAHWISM Syncretism: Eros-Dionysus-Plutus-Erotes; Planetary Intelligence is PLUTONIAN Byzantine-Garden of Hesperides, Berith-Powers-Bucchus Planetary Intelligence is PLUTONIAN Garden of Eden, and Tuxôn-Mbatuku: spirit of wealth-Ikoro: drum spirit-Principality; Planetary Intelligence is PLUTONIAN Central Africa-ONYE NCHE Gardens both with Saturn Tutlery Spirit

A ranger is typically someone in a law enforcement or military/paramilitary role specializing in patrolling a given territory, called "ranging" or "scouting". a member of a body of armed men. Onye Nche is Africa's GRIGORI/EROTES

Ethnic Group, ONYE NCHE: Boxing Gym Culture Gangsters; Black separatism is a separatist political movement that seeks separate economic and cultural development for those of African descent in societies. Ethnic separatism can be based on cultural, linguistic as well as religious or racial differences. Ethnic separatist movements were relevant since they represented historical delineations between states, or in recent times, were the cause of conflicts between peoples in Europe, Africa and Asia with different ethnic/linguistic origins.

The term professional–managerial class (PMC) refers to a social class within capitalism that, by controlling production processes through occupying a superior management position, is neither proletarian nor bourgeoisie. Metropolitan elite is a term used to describe politically liberal people whose education has traditionally opened the doors to affluence, wealth and power and who form a managerial elite. The proletariat (/ˌproʊlɪˈtɛəriət/; from Latin proletarius 'producing offspring') is the social class of wage-earners, those members of a society whose possession of significant economic value is their labour power (their capacity to work).[1] A member of such a class is a proletarian or a proletaire. Marxist philosophy regards the proletariat under conditions of capitalism as an exploited class[2]⁠ forced to accept meager wages in return for operating the means of production, which belong to the class of business owners, the bourgeoisie.

ONYE NCHE Female Genome Editing (C-Cup Breast Augmentation, Heart Shape Butt Augmentation, Layered WavyCurls for Volume, Diamond Face, Lipodissolve, Full Body Etching, Hyaluronic Acid Red Melanin, and Hazel Eyes)

Architecture Influence: Art Deco with Cycladic Marina.

Religion: Urban shamanism distinguishes traditional shamanism found in indigenous societies from Western adaptations that draw on contemporary and modern roots. Urban shamanism is practiced primarily by people who do not originate in a traditional indigenous society and who create unique methods that do not follow or claim authenticity in any prior tradition. Urban shamanism traces its beginnings to efforts by Westerners to come to terms with psychoactive plant experiences using their own modern frames of cultural reference influenced by, but outside of, the indigenous rites in which plant medicine is traditionally based. The related terms digital shamanism and digital psychedelia are schools of thought born out of the convergence of technological changes, art movements, and Eastern philosophies during the late 20th century. Metropolitan Elite is a term used to describe politically liberal people whose education has traditionally opened the doors to affluence, wealth and power and who form a managerial elite. The Spiritual Baptist faith is a religion created by persons of African ancestry in the plantations they came to in the former British West Indies countries predominantly in the islands of a Grenada, Saint Vincent and the Grenadines, Tobago and the Virgin Islands. It is syncretic Afro-Caribbean religion that combines elements of the many varied traditional African religions brought by the enslaved populations combined with Christianity. Spiritual Baptists consider themselves to be Christians. "The religious practice involves a music-centered worship service, in which collective singing and drumming accompany spirit possession and animal sacrifice (typically goats, sheep, and fowl)." Trinidad Orisha practice involves call-and-response singing accompanied by a trio of drums. Men can wear a headwrap however the very top of the head is usually left uncovered. (Graffiti Surfstreet with Durags) Trinidad Orisha practice involves call-and-response singing accompanied by a trio of drums. Djembe, Tammas, Bougarabou, with Steelpan 808s.

Clientelism or client politics is the exchange of goods and services for political support, often involving an implicit or explicit quid-pro-quo.[1][2][3] It is closely related to patronage politics and vote buying.[4]

Sin Stock Investment Trust: Pay a minimum of 90% of their taxable income to their shareholders through dividends; Arms, Tobacco, Pharmaceuticals, Entertainment District Rental Properties, and Sports Betting. (Piccadilly Circus as an Example) Lastly, maritime corruption may be categorized according to various fraud scenarios,[8] such as: under-invoicing, where the merchandise in question is declared of lower value than the actual sale price in the invoice, bribes paid to gain contracts, where large shipping and commercial vessel companies bid for long term contracts from large exporters, illicit payments to marine surveyors, so that the surveyor is paid illegally in order to give a better review of the inspected vessel, facilitation payments to customs officers, where bribes are paid to officers to ensure smooth customs procedures and to turn a blind eye to certain procedural requirements, and illegal purchase of letters of credit, where payment is promised for certain documents which validate that goods have been delivered as required.

Boxing Gym Culture Five Senses City: Touch; Boxing and Graffiti Surfstreet Fashion, Taste; Fish and Potatoes, Sound; Palace Music, Sight; Townsquare and Marina Architecture, Scent; Cucumber-Coconut Milk and Musk;

Tutlery Spirit: ONYE NCHE ARUSHI Drumming Orchestra Crista with IKORO. Saturn is the planet. SAMYAZA OATH When the rebel angels first meet upon Mount Hermon to organize their secret society of 200 members, Samyaza, as their recognized chieftain initially doubts the initiates' resolve to forswear heaven. This they had planned to achieve through dark combinations and clandestine oaths under penalty of death, thereby binding themselves to that treachery in which they would use their heaven-acquired knowledge to create a counterfeit religion on earth to satisfy their lusts and carnal desires.

REMAKE SHANGO BAPTIST FOR TUXÔN "Cool," temperate, calm gods ONLY; Shango Baptists was created in Trinidad and only practiced in Trinidad. It has no relation to the spiritual baptist religion. Shango is the practice of the Trinidad Orisha religion. In Trinidad, Orisha is also called Shango, and the term "Shango Baptist" is sometimes used to describe worshipers who are involved with both Spiritual Baptism and Orisha/Shango. The term "Shango Baptist" has come to have negative connotations for some worshippers of both Spiritual Baptism and Orisha/Shango, who argue that those who say "Shango Baptist" conflate the two religions, when in fact they are completely separate religions. As some have said, "There is no thing as Shango Baptist. Shango is Shango. Baptist is Baptist".[7] Others say that Shango Baptists simply "wear two hats"; their mixture of "Baptist and Orisha practices" is a result of similar oppression by colonial authorities in Trinidad.[8]; In practice, the Trinidad Orisha religion is not connected with the Spiritual Baptisms. Orisha worship services are not similar to and not held at the same locations as Spiritual Baptist churches.[9]; Trinidad Orisha practice involves call-and-response singing accompanied by a trio of drums.; "The religious practice involves a music-centered worship service, in which collective singing and drumming accompany spirit possession and animal sacrifice (Duck)."[3]; Donna P. Hope defines dancehall culture as a "space for the cultural creation and dissemination of symbols and ideologies that reflect the lived realities of its adherents, particularly those from the inner cities of Jamaica."[40] Dancehall culture actively creates a space for its "affectors" (creators of dancehall culture) and its "affectees" (consumers of dancehall culture) to take control of their own representation, contest conventional relationships of power, and exercise some level of cultural, social and even political autonomy.; Such a drastic change in the popular music of the region generated an equally radical transformation in fashion trends, specifically those of its female faction. In lieu of traditional, modest "rootsy" styles, as dictated by Rastafari-inspired gender roles; women began donning flashy, revealing – sometimes X-rated outfits. This transformation is said to coincide with the influx of slack lyrics within dancehall, which objectified women as apparatuses of pleasure. These women would team up with others to form "modeling posses", or "dancehall model" groups, and informally compete with their rivals.; This newfound materialism and conspicuity was not, however, exclusive to women or manner of dress. Appearance at dance halls was exceedingly important to acceptance by peers and encompassed everything from clothing and jewelry, to the types of vehicles driven, to the sizes of each respective gang or "crew", and was equally important to both sexes.; Remake ten of the major cultural imperatives or principles that constitute the dancehall worldview.

Arushi Attributes: Vice, Horcrux Warfare, Knowledge, Culture Theory (Culture, Art, Aesthetics, Bohemian) (Esthétique Antagonique; Aesthetic Theory, Culture Antagonist, Industrial Sub-Culture, and Edgy Arts), Art as a Medium for Linguistics, Commercial Commerce, Athletics, Carnal Love, Festivals, Artisanal Cash Crops, Distorted Sensory Play, Five Senses City, Liberal Arts, Côte d'Ivoire, and Blue Head.

Linguistics Arts (Fusion Language of Igbo as a Culture Planning Language for Onye Nche Patois; Phrasal Verbs; Noun Groups; Vowel Harmony): Originally, Patois was used to refer to non-standard varieties of French, used by peasants in France. Mid 17th century French, Patois meant ‘rough speech’. The word is usually associated with low status in comparison with the standard language of society. Especially in the Anglophone Caribbean region , the name Patois have been associated with French Creole dialects. Speakers of 17th and 18th French, came in contact with speakers of Yoruba, Ewe, Wolof, Igbo and Twi among various other West African languages. Between 350 BC and 150 AD, the expansion of the Empire, together with its administrative and educational policies, made Latin the dominant native language in continental Western Europe. Latin also exerted a strong influence in southeastern Britain, the Roman province of Africa**, western Germany, Pannonia and the whole Balkans.[25] The Romance languages, also known as the Latin[1] or Neo-Latin[2] languages, are the languages that are directly descended from Vulgar Latin.[3] They are the only extant subgroup of the Italic branch of the Indo-European language family. Fusional languages or inflected languages are a type of synthetic language, distinguished from agglutinative languages by their tendency to use single inflectional morphemes to denote multiple grammatical, syntactic, or semantic features. In linguistics, agglutination is a morphological process in which words are formed by stringing together morphemes, each of which corresponds to a single syntactic feature. Languages that use agglutination widely are called agglutinative languages. For example, in the agglutinative language of Turkish, the word evlerinizden ("from your houses") consists of the morphemes ev-ler-i-n-iz-den. Agglutinative languages are often contrasted with isolating languages, in which words are monomorphemic, and fusional languages, in which words can be complex, but morphemes may correspond to multiple features. In phonology, vowel harmony is a phonological rule in which the vowels of a given domain – typically a phonological word – must share certain distinctive features (thus "in harmony"). Vowel harmony is typically long distance, meaning that the affected vowels do not need to be immediately adjacent, and there can be intervening segments between the affected vowels. Generally one vowel will trigger a shift in other vowels, either progressively or regressively, within the domain, such that the affected vowels match the relevant feature of the trigger vowel. Common phonological features that define the natural classes of vowels involved in vowel harmony include vowel backness, vowel height, nasalization, roundedness, and advanced and retracted tongue root. Vowel harmony is found in many agglutinative languages. The given domain of vowel harmony taking effect often spans across morpheme boundaries, and suffixes and prefixes will usually follow vowel harmony rules. Art teaches communication by providing another way of portraying feelings, ideas, and arguments to an audience besides words. Also, it asks viewers to relate symbols and other abstract connections together to interpret a meaning from imagery. A noun group is a group of words relating to, or building on, a noun. Noun groups usually begin with an article (the, a, an) or determiner (this, that, these, those, my, your, his, her, its, our). It may have more than one adjective. 'The run-down old inner-city terrace house is for sale'. A phrasal verb is made up of a verb – usually a very common one, like 'make' – and a particle, like 'up'. Some phrasal verbs have two particles, for example put up with. The particle usually changes the meaning of the verb. Phrasal verbs look easy … after all, they're just a common verb followed by another little word. Often people don't even realise they need special attention. So what do you need to know about them? Here are some of the challenges.

Brothers of TUXÔN: Xô Igbo Name Signature with; Birth: Sensory Overload Asperger's Fetus Alcohol Consumption with Prenatal Hormones Vitamins; and Calcium Biometal Metabolism.

Animal Sacrifice is a Duck for Sex Drive and Speed.

Spiritual Animal is a Cheetah for Sex Drive and Speed.

Diet: Jamaican Fusion Pescatarian Potato Gastronomy for Nigerian Gastronomy.

2 Full Star Cardinal Signs and a Urban City Teenager Planetary Intelligence Cancer/Aries: Mercury, Moon, Sun/Neptune-Jupiter, Mars, Venus Brooklyn, NY.; age 17; Tutlery Spirit: Onye Nche (Pluto/Uranus-Saturn)

Jungle Capital Formula for African Games Retail Integration: Craftsmanship, Commercialism, Commerce, Cash-Conversion-Cycle, and Medium of Exchange. Horizontal integration involves the acquisition or merger of companies operating in the same industry and at the same stage of the supply chain. (Boxing, FL Studio and Poetic Meter, Track and Field, Rings Gymnastics, Real Estate Investment Trust, Sin Stocks Investment Trusts for Partying, and Culinary Linguistics).

Tuxôn Music School: Composition majors study contemporary composition approaches, analysis, orchestration, harmony, counterpoint, and music history. Ceremonial Orchestra Drum: Djembe, Tammas, Bougarabou; They are normally played with only the hands in a standing position. They have a full, deep, rich sound which can be heard for miles and is effective at all dynamic levels. They produce a kind of bass melody in the total rhythm. In other modern drumming situations, they are often used to back up djembes and tammas in a percussion group. Almost each of the orishas revered in the Yoruba religion has its own drum orchestra, which is of central importance for the cult of the respective deity. Drum music also represents the medium through which the ritual participant in ecstasy get in touch with the gods. Mozart Effect Composers Dancehall Production FL Studio with Djembe, Tammas, Bougarabou Theory Plugin and Bembé Rhythm Trinidad Orisha practice involves call-and-response singing accompanied by a trio of drums. Elementary School is Choir and Djembe; Middle School is Choir, Strings, and Djembe; High School is FL Studio. All Schools Teach Composition Music Study. The music was often related to national culture. It was culturally particular; from a particular region or culture. In the context of an immigrant group, folk music acquires an extra dimension for social cohesion. It is particularly conspicuous in immigrant societies, where Greek Australians, Somali Americans, Punjabi Canadians, and others strive to emphasize their cultural identity. They learn songs and dances that originate in the countries their grandparents came from. Fusion of cultures: Because cultures interact and change over time, traditional songs evolving over time may incorporate and reflect influences from disparate cultures. The relevant factors may include instrumentation, tunings, voicings, phrasing, subject matter, and even production methods. Trap Lyrics but based on National Customs so a Latino in Miami vs Jamaicans in Miami. In folk music a tune-family is, "a seeming multiplicity of melodies," reducible, "to a small number of 'models' or sets." One can think of the models or sets as deep structures. Often, "different tunes are the same," and, "the same tune is different."[1] Idiolectical (individual) or dialectical (based on context or on locale) variations may exist. Different families may also arise from the use of stock structures or of formulae such as stock phrases and motifs. In folk music, a tune is a short instrumental piece, a melody, often with repeating sections, and usually played a number of times.[15] A collection of tunes with structural similarities is known as a tune-family. America's Musical Landscape says "the most common form for tunes in folk music is AABB, also known as binary form."[16][page needed] In some traditions, tunes may be strung together in medleys or "sets."[17] Look up Romans 8 for Trap Religious Music. Trap folk music with Dance Beat.

SHANGO COURSE

Encomium (pl.: encomia) is a Latin word deriving from the Ancient Greek enkomion (ἐγκώμιον), meaning "the praise of a person or thing."[1] Another Latin equivalent is laudatio, a speech in praise of someone or something.

Encomium also refers to several distinct aspects of rhetoric:

A general category of oratory

A method within rhetorical pedagogy

A figure of speech praising a person or thing, but occurring on a smaller scale than an entire speech

The eighth exercise in the progymnasmata series

A literary genre that included five elements: prologue, birth and upbringing, acts of the person's life, comparisons used to praise the subject, and an epilogue[citation needed]

The basilikos logos (imperial encomium), a formal genre in the Byzantine empire

In Byzantine rhetoric, a basilikos logos (Greek: βασιλικòς λόγος, literally "imperial word") or logos eis ton autokratora ("speech to the emperor") is an encomium addressed to an emperor on an important occasion, regularly at Epiphany.[1]

The parameters of the genre were first set out in a treatise attributed to Menander Rhetor of the late 3rd century. The encomiast should praise the emperor's origins, his physical beauty, his upbringing, good habits, feats in peace and victories in war, philanthropy, good fortune and practice of the four cardinal virtues. He identified the presbeutikos, a speech of supplication given by a city to an emperor, as a subgenre of the basilikos logos. The panegyric of Constantine the Great delivered by Eusebius of Caesaria established a new convention of depicting the ideal emperor rather than the actual. The Christian basilikoi logoi dropped references to good fortune (tyche) in favour of piety. The term presbeutikos also shifted in meaning to refer to an ambassador's report.[1]

The delivery of a basilikos logos could be used as an occasion to subtly advise the emperor, becoming a sort of "mirror of princes". This is the form it took when Agapetos praised Justinian I (6th century) and when Basil I his son Leo VI (9th century). The surviving biography of the Empress Theodora (9th century) may originate in a basilikos logos addressed to her during her regency.[2] John the Oxite wrote and presumably delivered an unconventional logos that was highly critical of the policies of Alexios I Komnenos (11th century).[3] Michael Italikos (12th century) wrote a logos for the Emperor John II Komnenos based primarily on his deeds and another for Manuel I Komnenos that was more conventional.[1]

Byzantine texts

See also: Basilikos logos

Synesius, Bishop of Cyrene, De regno, speech delivered to emperor Arcadius.

Agapetus the deacon, speech delivered to emperor Justinian I. (c. 530s)

Basil I the Macedonian, Admonitory chapters I and II to his son emperor Leo VI the Wise

Constantine VII Porphyrogennetos, De Administrando Imperio, a domestic and foreign policy manual for the use of Constantine's son and successor, the Emperor Romanos II. (948–952)

Kekaumenos, Strategikon (1075/1078), chapters 77 – 91.

Archbishop Theophylact of Ohrid, Paideia Basilike (Lat. Institutio Regia) (c. 1088), addressed to his pupil Constantine Doukas, son of Emperor Michael VII Doukas.

Spaneas or Didaskalia Parainetike, modelled on the Isocratean Ad Demonicum (12th century)

Nikephoros Blemmydes, Andrias Basilikos (Lat. Regia statua, "Statue of a King"), written for Theodore II Laskaris, the future Nicaean emperor (c. 1250)

Thomas Magistros, La regalita addressed to Andronikos II Palaiologos. (14th century)

Manuel II Palaiologos, Paideia Regia dedicated to his son, John VIII Palaiologos. (15th century)

Tuxôn Favorite Songs

Ogochukwu by Seyi Vibez

Oluwaloseyi (Oluwaloseyi)

(I love you, I love you)

If you see me, you see star

Omoyi ma pami, Chiamaka, Undertaker (omoyi ma pami, Chiamaka, Undertaker)

Ma fi'ku t'oyara wo pa mi

Fashionista l'omo, ma t'epo s'alaami (fashionista l'omo, ma t'epo s'alaami)

Mallam mi, pe Aboki wa, kin she'wo, Mallam mi (pe Aboki wa, kin she'wo, Mallam mi)

O gbami, Didier Drogba, ogbaa (ogbaa)

Agba awo t'oun f'ase m'omi (agba awo t'oun f'ase m'omi)

Many girls want to woo me, woo me (many girls want to woo me, woo me)

Are you sure you want to do this? (want to do this?)

Bad boy, yours truly, truly (bad boy, yours truly, truly)

E get as e dey do me, do me

Sindodo, nkan t'oshe yen dun mi toh (Sindodo, nkan t'oshe yen dun mi toh)

Ogochukwu ogu longo

Insawodi, maya'wo, moya lo condom, mm

Mon p'ede fiki-gi fi-ti, fon-go

Kileti gbo, e tin gbo nkankan

Excuse me, me le passe, make you pardon

I love your fashion

Ejiro, o virgin but I'ma ride on

Balogun l'eyin obirin, emi Starboy

Go inside, put them sicken, aside on

My heart (heart), when we go fanshi? (fanshi)

Hey you, my chargie (chargie)

Seki', ma pami

Monseriki, fa mi

No go touch my maye

Se'ka setter, kaaye

Baby, Shiloh, awee

Holy center

Ramality

Awon parent mi, o ni wa mi ti

T'oba ba e soh, k'oya listen

Oh Warisi, k'oma reason

B'oje Hennessy l'ori, k'oya sip it

You no get shishi oh, o de ffizzy

Kako bi chicken, emi l'Oba Titi

Scatter the chart, no appealing

Ogochukwu ogu longo

Insawodi, maya'wo, mo ya lo condom, mm

Mon p'ede fiki-gi fi-ti, fon-go

Kileti gbo, e tin gbo nkankan

Excuse me, me le passe, make you pardon

I love your fashion

Ejiro, o virgin but I'ma ride on

Balogun l'eyin obirin, emi Starboy

Go inside, put them sicken, aside on

My heart (heart), or we go fanshi (fanshi)

Hey you, my chargie (chargie)

Seki', ma pami

Monseriki, fa mi

No go touch my maye

Se'ka setter, kaaye

Baby, Shiloh, awee

Holy center (Holy center)

Afi'emi, afi'emi, Shiloh

(Olusho, mon dahun)

You never let a n- down

Dem wan make the n- frown

Afi'emi, afi'emi, Shiloh

Olusho, mon dahun (Olusho, mon dahun)

You never let a n- down

Na who make the n- frown?

(Afi'emi, afi'emi, Shiloh, yeah)

Olusho, mon dahun (Olusho, mon dahun)

"Numbers Don't Lie" by Popcaan

An-anywhere di killy dem stop

Gyal wan' fi gi' wi di contact

Tell-tell some bwoy don't try violate, man ah fly weh dem bat

Think mi ramp?

Sonny and Rane Day

More gyal fi mi and Dane Ray

No funny blood inna mi DNA

Diss badman, di SKL wi' spray-spray

I am way up

High like di 4th of July

From mi, pretty gyal roll up

Shootin' mi shot like Kawhi

Wah 'mount ah gyal mi have, yeah

Numbers don't lie, yeah

Wah 'mount ah Matic mi have, yeah (Dane Ray)

Numbers don't lie

Wah 'mount ah respect wi have

Numbers don't lie

Gyal wan' gimmi pussy pon di first day

Yuh know mi don't lie (Weh!)

Surprise di place like di Raptors dem

Have gyal ah reminisce pon di backaz dem

Gyal ah cuss-cuss fi mi, one ah mi hottaz dem

Unruly nuh wear di knockaz dem (Yeah!)

V16 engines

Spaceship wid di lock sport built it

Bwoy cyan diss my team

Man ah bad before mi reach 16

Man ah Gad inna di earth, dawg

Bad anywhere inna di world, cah

Who dem pussy dem, dem ah learner

Badman buss yuh head wid di burner (Weh!)

I am way up

High like di 4th of July

From mi, pretty gyal roll up

Shootin' mi shot like Kawhi

Wah 'mount ah gyal mi have, yeah

Numbers don't lie

Wah 'mount ah Matic mi have, yeah (Dane Ray)

Numbers don't lie

Wah 'mount ah respect wi have

Numbers don't lie

Gyal wan' gimmi pussy pon di first day

Yuh know mi don't lie (Weh!)

Mi seh mi money nuff long time

Anuh just now

Cuban 'round mi neck (Weh!), fully buss down

9x19, fully custom

Mi yard run like ah airport killy customs (Mhmm)

Prettiest gyal have mi ting ah rub down

And ah seh she wan' gimmi head inna lump sum

Win some pretty tongue, gimmi wisdom

3 grand fi mi shoes dem weh yah touch ground

Pussy dem soft like Suavitel

Mi call dem name and mi nuh ring nuh bell (Mhmm hmm)

Dane Ray seh kill dem, mi seh might as well

Man crack dem skull just like ah turtle shell

Paint dem like ah enamel

Sonny and Rane Day

More gyal fi mi and Dane Ray (Yeah)

Gyallis inna mi DNA

Fuck off 'Shawna, Kay and Anna-Kay

I am way up

Trouble!

Yuh think mi [?]?

Woi

Sonny and Rane Day

More gyal fi mi and Dane Ray (Woi)

Gyallis inna mi DNA

ONYE NCHE NEUROPLASTICITY DRUG-CRIME NEXUS BASED ON TRAFFICKING

CPP, CNS Depressants, et FENTALOGS: Cul-de-sac

Grey-Decentralized Markets

Bastilles: Cul-de-sac Artist Résidences Penthouse Complexes

Raves

Acid House Art Gallery

International Film Festival

Hôtel Chefs

Seigneurial System/Tableau Economique Raw Material Économics Production Spot

Surautomatism

Discount Networking Acid House Party

Opium Dens and Fragrance Festivals

Pill Pressers

CNS depressants

Upper-tier County System

Defense Lawyers are Traplords (Trafficking P4P and Malicious Prosecution)

Cash Conversion Cycle (CCC)

Brain Receptor Dealing

Neuroplasticity Drug-Crime Nexus

Live-Pool Betting Monopoly Board Game

Summary Sentencing

Urban Level: Street Culture Art Gallery (Street culture may refer to: Urban culture, the culture of towns and cities, Street market, Children's street culture, Street carnival, Block party, Street identity, Street food, Café culture, Several youth subculture or counterculture topics pertaining to outdoors of urban centers. These can include: Street art, Street photography, Street racing, Street wear, Hip-hop culture, Urban fiction, Street sports, Streetball, Flatland BMX, Freestyling), Art Pedagogy, Artist Residency, Art Schools, and Art Plugs

Art Pedagogy: Arts-based pedagogy is a teaching methodology in which an art form is integrated with another subject matter to impact student learning. 28-30. Arts-based pedagogy results in arts-based learning (ABL),11 which is when a student learns about a subject through arts processes including creating, responding or performing. Aesthetic Teaching: Seeking a Balance between Teaching Arts and Teaching through the Arts. In aesthetic education, learning must be developed especially with the inclusion of sensations and with the help of feelings. Sensations and feelings should lead to movement, representation, and expression. Aesthetic learning often entails learning to distinguish certain qualities or objects aesthetically in different ways depending on the situation and the purpose. Certain things can be experienced in negative ways in one activity and in positive ways in another.

A designer drug is a structural or functional analog of a controlled substance that has been designed to mimic the pharmacological effects of the original drug, while avoiding classification as illegal and/or detection in standard drug tests

Major Vice: Solvent Levelling Effect Chemical Reaction Engineering et Placebo Effect (manufacturing), Suicide Tuesdays Levelling Effect (Rolling Tobacco, Oxytocin, Pain Killers, and Hydrocolloids Ecstasy) [Brain Receptors Dealing], Cash Back Program (Buy within 3 days of paycheck for extra Tobacco), Razor-Razor Blade C2C: Streetwear and PC Gaming (Business Model), Popcorn Marketing (Prices) Ecstasy-Opiods Singer-Dealers/Ecstasy-Xanax Producers-Drug Encroachment (Rave Teams), Smurfing-Embezzlement Painting, Cabaret et Burlesque, et Hotel Chains Budgeting, Real Estate Brokerage Trust Account

Grassroots Minor Vice: TRADWAVE Stickers/Shirts and Gum (Trafficking), Vape Smoke Tricks (Sprezzatura), Soundcloud Sharing Group Chats (Raves), Hôtel Chains Budgeting (Financial Forecasting and Budgeting), San Pellegrino Mini Fridge (Chilvary)

Body High Ecstasy Water; (Binding Agent) Microcrystalline Cellulose, Hydrocolloid Water-soluble Proteins, (Potentiation) Grapefruit Powder, (Activating Ingredients) meta-Chlorophenylpiperazine (mCPP), and Alprazolam; New York Minuite: Duds and meta-Chlorophenylpiperazine (mCPP); Fentalogs: acetyl fentanyl, butyryl fentanyl, beta- hydroxythiofentanyl, furanyl fentanyl, 4-fluoroisobutyryl fentanyl, acryl fentanyl, and U-47700; Tablet presses are machines designed to compress pharmaceutical powders and granules into tablets. They must be highly precise in order to create uniform tablets that each contain the same amount of active pharmaceutical ingredients and excipients; Habitants (French: [abitɑ̃]) were French settlers and the inhabitants of French origin who farmed the land along the two shores of the St. Lawrence River and Gulf in what is the present-day Province of Quebec in Canada. The term was used by the inhabitants themselves and the other classes of French Canadian society from the 17th century up until the early 20th century when the usage of the word declined in favour of the more modern agriculteur (farmer) or producteur agricole (agricultural producer). A fragrance wheel [1] also known as aroma wheel, fragrance circle, perfume wheel or smell wheel, is a circular diagram showing the inferred relationships among olfactory groups based upon similarities and differences in their odor.[1] The groups bordering one another are implied to share common olfactory characteristics. Fragrance wheel is frequently used as a classification tool in oenology and perfumery.

Books: Mirror for Princes, Psychology, and Business.

Genome Editing Signature: Diamond Face with Grey Eyes and Blonde Hair, Calcium Blood Overdose for ACTNX Gene and FBN1 Gene for Marfan for Fascia Type IIx Athletes, Sensory Processing Sensitive Brain, with Enzymes; Mutations; and Neurodisorders.

TUXÔN Commercialism Reference Style Nigerian Boxing: A system of Social and economic organization in which financial profit is valued above any other criterion or consideration.

Training Gear: Focus Mitts, Punching Shield, Reflex Bag, Double End Bag, Heavy Bags, Tire for Pocket Training (one foot in)

Boxing Movement: Aesthetics, Athletics, and Agriculture (Life Drawing Modelling and Tracksuits with Outerwear, Boxing, Agriculture Mediums, Iron Metabolism); Anatomy: For Force-Velocity Curve Replace Power with Elastic for Fascia Type IIx Muscle Fibre with Dynamic Effort Method, Scapular Rings Gymnastics, 200m Isometric-Plyometric, 200m Isometric-Mobility, Isometric-Dynamic Plank, 200m Isometric Stretching, Leucine, Hydrolyzed Collagen, Keto BHB, and Iron Supplements with Lidocaine Numbing Cream and Tramadol Painkiller; Duck, Sheep Dairy, Rabbit, Beans, Spinach, And Potato for Iron Metabolism: Shoulder Roll Brawler: Pocket Fighting and Clinching. Use different Jab and Power Shot Types for Bladed Guard Manipulation for Signature Stance. The shoulder roll is a defensive move in its essence, one you can get to from any position or stance. It allows you to tuck your chin behind your shoulder to avoid your opponent’s punches.

Boxing Museum: Theatre and Library, Sculpting Modelling (Scapula exercises works Traps and Serratus Anterior), Sculpting Courses, History Exhibit

Chain Model: Pay-per-view Conglomerate, Magazines with Gyms, Solo Promotion and Teams Demotion Daily Fantasy Sports Rakes and Purses, Boxing Economy Magazines, AgriMediums for Rural Area Commerce, AgInvestors, Life Drawing Modelling and Tracksuits with Outerwear for 1% Class Interaction, British Boxing Museum, Memoir and Documentaries, Brain Donation, Anatomy and Calcium Metabolism Meta-analysis

Decentralized Gambling Economy: Pigou Effect, Corporate-Capital Gains Tax Haven, High Stakes Minimum Buy In, Domestic: Boxing, Retirement: Boat Racing, Residency Program for Tax Benefits

Signature Striking: Start Combos with Power Shots and End with Jabs

Naoya Inoue Influence for West African Shell (Bladed Half Guard): Wide Stance with Weight Forward, Inverted-V Target (Solar Plexus, Liver, Spleen, Obliques) opens Head as a Target, Centerline connection opens Flanks, Multiple Jab Triggers Self Counter Hooks Combo, Front Power Hooks over Jabs for Single Punches, Front Hooks and Front Jabs for Parry High Guard.

Boxing Gym Culture (Surf Culture Reengineering)

Surf culture includes the people, language, fashion, and lifestyle surrounding the sport of surfing. The history of surfing began with the ancient Polynesians. That initial culture directly influenced modern surfing, which began to flourish and evolve in the early 20th century, with its popularity peaking during the 1950s and 1960s (principally in Hawaii, Australia, and California). It has affected music, fashion, literature, film, art, and youth jargon in popular culture. The number of surfers throughout the world continues to increase as the culture spreads. Surfer Magazine was founded in the 1960s when surfing had gained popularity and was the initial voice for surf culture which included environmental activism. Localism or territorialism is a part of the development of surf culture in which individuals or groups of surfers claim certain key surfing spots as their own. Since ancient times among the Native Hawaiians, the appointed kahuna (priest) laid an offering of fish, said prayers, and performed other religious rites by a tree before it was felled to make a surfboard.[12] The ancient Hawaiians believed that the trees they made their surfboards (papa heʻe nalu) from had souls (ʻuhane),[22][23] and used the trunks of koa trees to build them. Their pae poʻo (bodyboards)[24][note 1] as well as kikoʻo and alaia surfboards were made from koa; however, olo, the longest and heaviest surfboards, were made from the lighter and more buoyant wood of the wiliwili, and were used exclusively by the nobility.[25] Heiaus are Hawaiian places of worship where sacrifices were offered, they include actual temples as well as natural objects or features of the landscape. Every activity in Hawaiian culture was associated with a cult devoted to a deity or the activity itself, such as surfing. [26][27] When the ocean was calm and there were no waves to surf, the kahuna lashed the surface of the sea with long strands of beach morning glory (pohuehue) vines and chanted, in unison with the surfers.

Promotion and Regulation: Solo Promotion and Weight Class Teams.

Magazines Owned Gyms as League Franchises: A franchise agreement is a contract under which the franchisor grants the franchisee the right to operate a business, or offer, sell, or distribute goods or services identified or associated with the franchisor's trademark, Ex. 250 Gyms for 5 Magazines 50 per Magazine.

Sculpting Modelling

Sculpture is a form of artistic expression that involves modelling, sculpting or carving stone, wood or other materials.

If you enjoy carving or molding figures from clay, metal, marble, or other materials, have excellent artistic talent and a keen imagination (and you played in the mud as a child), a career as a sculptor is for you.

Fine artists, including painters, sculptors*, and illustrators are also called: Artist.

Boxing Physiques can be a Reference for Sculptors. We just do what's need for the piece. Africa have the FARMING too.

No Closed Doors Super Series: Bi-monthly Six Fight Multi Locations Series with Behind the Scenes between Two Boxers

Box Raw Bi-weekly Boxing Economy Newspaper and Monthly Biography Magazine

Box Raw Fashion Label and Equipment

Box Raw Boxing Science Corporate Education

Box Raw Streaming Daily Fantasy Sportsbook (Options Trading Turf Accountant)

Boxing Gloves as Kit Rivals

Target Audience

Gamblers and BioEngineers

Turf Accounting Model

+EV

Python Programming Gaussian Distribution

Exotic Options Trading Live Betting

Parlays Minimum for Round Robins

Daily Fantasy Rakes

Street Culture

Street Food

Street Photography

Street Workout

Café Culture

Children's Street Culture

Block Party

Piccadilly Circus is a road junction and public space of London's West End in the City of Westminster. It was built in 1819 to connect Regent Street with Piccadilly. In this context, a circus, from the Latin word meaning "circle", is a round open space at a street junction.[1]: A street can often serve as the catalyst for the neighborhood's prosperity, culture and solidarity.

Ring Fundamentals Workout

Top position hold: 5 sets of 15 seconds, 30 sec. rest

Ring dip: 5 sets of 8-12 reps, 1 min. rest

Reverse row sit-back: 5 sets of 10-15 reps, 1 min. rest

Tuck/L-sit: 5 sets of 15 seconds, 30 sec. rest

Ring chin-up or pull-up: 5 sets of 8-12 reps, 1 min. rest

Dynamic/Isometric Superset Workout

Ring dip: 6-8 reps of dip, with a 15-sec. top position hold in between each rep. Do this for 5 sets with 1 min. rest between sets.

Reverse row sit-back: 6 to 8 reps with a 15-sec. tuck/L-sit in between each rep. Do this for 5 sets with 1 minute of rest between sets.

Ring chin-up or pull-up: 5 sets of 8 to 12 reps, with 1 minute of rest between sets.

Street Culture

Street Food

Street Photography

Street Workout

Café Culture

Children's Street Culture

Block Party

Bloor Street: A street can often serve as the catalyst for the neighborhood's prosperity, culture and solidarity.

Urban Fiction (Crime Newspaper Articles, Movies, TV Series) Caleb's Rise International Film Festival Genre: Street Literature Henriad Shakespeare Adaptation Thrillers.

Spiritual Catalyst: Djembe; Tammas; Bougarabou 808s Melody, Cinnamon Coffee-Tobacco, English Style Battered Scallops-Basil Potatoes, Mineral Water, Chlorophyll, Leucine-Creatine-Keto BHB-Hydrolyzed Collagen, Musk-Tobacco Fragrances, Cucumber-Coconut Milk Shea Butter Hyaluronic Acid Cosmetics, Money, Machine Pistols, Technology, Parties, Wool-Sheep Dairy, Modafinil-Painkillers-Iced Tea Promethazine Codeine, and Sports Betting.

MODAFINIL, PAINKILLERS, AND PROMETHAZINE CODEINE

Religious Ecstacy: Entheogens are psychedelic drugs—and sometimes certain other psychoactive substances—used for engendering spiritual development or otherwise in sacred contexts; Mu Recptor-Norpinephine Prescription Meds Ecstacy. The poet syndrome: opiates, psychosis and creativity L Rauch. J Psychoactive Drugs. 2000 Jul-Sep. For some people, heroin is a self-medicating tool used to control innate psychic sensitivity. The habitual use of heroin provides the sensitive addict with a definition of consciousness by containment, psychic buffering, and psychic marking. This article is an examination of the political and social history of opiates, opiates as antipsychotics, "drug of choice" as a determinant of self-medication, and the connection between creativity, spirituality, psychosis and addiction. Using clinical observation, the article explores the poet syndrome hypothesis and offers direction for an alternative drug treatment paradigm. Personality disorders and particularly antisocial personality disorders (APD) are quite frequent in opioid-dependent subjects. They show various personality traits: high neuroticism, high impulsivity, higher extraversion than the general population. Previous studies have reported that some but not all personality traits improved with treatment. In a previous study, we found a low rate of APD in a French population of opioid-dependent subjects. For this reason, we evaluated personality traits at intake and during maintenance treatment with methadone. Methods - The form A of the Eysenck Personality Inventory (EPI) was given to opioid addicts at intake and after 6 and 12 months of methadone treatment. Results - 134 subjects (96 males and 38 females) took the test at intake, 60 completed 12 months of treatment. After 12 months, the EPI Neuroticism (N) and the Extraversion-introversion (E) scale scores decreased significantly. The N score improved in the first 6 months, while the E score improved only during the second 6 months of treatment. Compared to a reference group of French normal controls, male and female opioid addicts showed high N and E scores. Demographic data and EPI scores of patients who stayed in treatment for 12 months did not differ significantly from those of dropouts (n=23). Patients with a history of suicide attempts (SA) started to use heroin at an earlier age and they showed a higher E score and a tendency for a higher N score at intake. Discussion - The two personality dimensions of the EPI changed during MMT, and the N score converged towards the score of normal controls. Opioid addicts differ from normal controls mostly in their N score. The EPI did not help to differentiate 12-month completers from dropouts. Higher E scores in patients with an SA history might reflect a higher impulsivity, which has been linked to suicidality in other patient groups.

Region: Port Tuxôn; Bas-Sassandra District (French: District du Bas-Sassandra; [ba.sa.sɑ̃d.ʁa], "Lower Sassandra") is one of fourteen administrative districts of Ivory Coast. The district is located in the southwest part of the country. The capital of the district is San-Pédro. The district was created in a 2011 administrative reorganisation of the subdivisions of Ivory Coast.[3] Its territory is composed of the former region of Bas-Sassandra with the addition of the department of Fresco, which was transferred from the region of Sud-Bandama.[4] Yonge–Dundas Square, or Dundas Square is a public square at the southeast corner of the intersection of Yonge Street and Dundas Street East in Downtown Toronto, Ontario, Canada. Designed by Brown and Storey Architects, the square was conceived in 1997 as part of revitalizing the intersection.[2][3] Since its completion in 2002, the square has hosted many public events, performances and art displays, establishing itself as a prominent landmark in Toronto and one of the city's prime tourist attractions. Central to the Downtown Yonge entertainment and shopping district, the square is owned by the city and is the first public square in Canada to be maintained through a public–private partnership.[4] The intersection is one of the busiest in Canada, with over 100,000 people crossing the city's first pedestrian scramble daily.[5][6][7] Surrounding the square are other major landmarks, including the Toronto Eaton Centre, Ed Mirvish Theatre, and the Citytv building. The square is accessible from the Toronto subway at Dundas station and is connected to Path, Toronto's underground pedestrian walkway. The square is continuously illuminated by large billboard screens and corporate logos, which has led to comparison of the square with Times Square in New York City, Shibuya Crossing in Tokyo, and Piccadilly Circus in London.[8][9] A marina (from Spanish [maˈɾina], Portuguese [mɐˈɾinɐ] and Italian [maˈriːna]: "related to the sea") is a dock or basin with moorings and supplies for yachts and small boats. A marina differs from a port in that a marina does not handle large passenger ships or cargo from freighters. Marine architecture is the design of architectural and engineering structures which support coastal design, near-shore and off-shore or deep-water planning for many projects such as shipyards, ship transport, coastal management or other marine and/or hydroscape activities. These structures include harbors, lighthouses, marinas, oil platforms, offshore drillings, accommodation platforms and offshore wind farms, floating engineering structures and building architectures or civil seascape developments. Floating structures in deep water may use suction caisson for anchoring.[1][2][3][4][5]

Boxing/Ballet Mecca

Trafalgar Square (/trəˈfælɡər/ trə-FAL-gər) is a public square in the City of Westminster, Central London, established in the early 19th century around the area formerly known as Charing Cross. The square's name commemorates the Battle of Trafalgar, the British naval victory in the Napoleonic Wars over France and Spain that took place on 21 October 1805 off the coast of Cape Trafalgar. The Monte Carlo Casino, officially named Casino de Monte-Carlo, is a gambling and entertainment complex located in Monaco. It includes a casino, the Opéra de Monte-Carlo, and the office of Les Ballets de Monte-Carlo.[1]

Trafalgar Square but Casino de Monte Carlo Boxing Buildings/Museums and Statues with a Ballet Drumming Orchestra Opera House.

S-1 TALK

Laws of Power, Strategies of War, and Laws of Human Nature By Robert Greene

Law 1: Never Outshine the Master: Ensure that those above you always feel superior. Go out of your way to make your bosses look better and feel smarter than anyone else. Everyone is insecure, but an insecure boss can retaliate more strongly than others can.

Law 2: Never Put too Much Trust in Friends, Learn How to Use Enemies: Keep a close eye on your friends — they get envious and will undermine you. If you co-opt an enemy, he’ll be more loyal than a friend because he’ll try harder to prove himself worthy of your trust.

Strategy 1: Do Not Fight the Last War: The Guerrilla-War-of-the-Mind Strategy: What most often weighs you down and brings you misery is the past, in the form of unnecessary attachments, repetitions of tired formulas, and the memory of old victories and defeats. You must consciously wage war against the past and force yourself to react to the present moment. Never take it for granted that your past successes will continue into the future.

Strategy 2: Segment Your Forces: The Controlled-Chaos Strategy; Speed and adaptability are critical elements in war, and come from flexible organization. Decentralize your army, segment into teams, and let go a little to gain mobility. Give your different corps clear missions that fit your strategic goals, then let them accomplish them as they see fit.

Law #3: People Can Be Influenced: We all need our self-image confirmed because we know it’s not always objectively accurate. We tend to like and listen to the people who validate us.

Law #4: People Wear Masks: We all display a persona, or a mask, that pumps up our positive qualities and shows ourselves in the best light. However, it’s not always easy to hide our true natures—while we have good control of our words, we don’t always have good control of our body language and nonverbal cues

Law #8: People’s Individuality Is Overpowered by Groups: When we’re in groups, everyone else’s emotions affect us and potentially provoke us into doing things we wouldn’t do alone.

Law #9: People Are Influenced by Their Generation: Everyone belongs to at least one group—their generation. Generational values are shaped by world events that took place during the generation’s coming-of-age years and the inevitable conflict with other generations.

Instrumental aggression refers to aggressive behavior meant to achieve a specific goal. Unlike other types of aggression, the behavior is not due to anger or other emotion but rather a calculated means to an end. Instrumental aggression is similar to bullying but with a specific, manipulative purpose.

SOCIO-TRUST FUND NIGERIAN BANKS

Age 16-19

Bond Funds

Farmland REITS

CFDS

Real Estate Brokerage Trust Account

Age 20-30

Farmland Recession Proof Stocks (Cosmetics, AgTech, Ag ETFS, AgETN)

Incubator and Startup Accelerators

Real Estate Joint Ventures

Age 30-40

Farmland Blue Chip Indexes w/ Credit Spread Options

Tunnel Strategy (Offshore Banking)

Purpose: Permanent Residency Card

$250k Deposit

$125k: 60/40 portfolio, 60% Fixed Income & REITs and 40% Blue Chip Stocks

$50k: Guaranteed Investment Certificates (GICs) and term deposits are secured investments. This means that you get back the amount you invest at the end of your term. The key difference between a GIC and a term deposit is the length of the term. Term deposits generally have shorter terms than GICs.

$75k: Spending Cash

Tax System

Commonwealth of Dominica has initiated legislation that facilitates the creation of offshore corporations, trusts, and foundations, providing tax-friendly and privacy-protected offshore banking services.

Taxes on profits of offshore companies are generally in the range of 0% to 5.5%, and the tax rate decreases as the profits earned increase.

A business cluster is a geographic concentration of interconnected businesses, suppliers, and associated institutions in a particular field. Clusters are considered to increase the productivity with which companies can compete, nationally and globally. Accounting is a part of the business cluster.[1][2] In urban studies, the term agglomeration is used.[3] Clusters are also important aspects of strategic management. Geographical cluster – as stated above e.g. the California wine cluster[12] or the flower cluster between Rotterdam and Amsterdam in the Netherlands.[13] Sectoral clusters (a cluster of businesses operating together from within the same commercial sector e.g. marine (south east England; Cowes and now Solent) and photonics (Aston Science Park, Birmingham)) Horizontal cluster (interconnections between businesses at a sharing of resources level e.g. knowledge management, machinery, lab and test tools, material supply, professional employment) Factor endowment clusters – They are created because a comparative advantage they might have linked to a geographical position. For example, wine production clusters because of sunny regions surrounded by mountains, where good grapes can grow. This is like certain areas in France such as Burgundy and Champagne, as well as Lombardy, Spain, Chile and California. Low-cost manufacturing clusters – These clusters have typically emerged in developing countries within particular industries, such as automotive production, electronics, or textiles. Examples include electronics clusters in Mexico (e.g. Guadalajara) and Argentina (e.g. Córdoba). Cluster firms typically serve clients in developed countries. Drivers of cluster emergence include availability of low-cost labor, geographical proximity to clients (e.g. in the case of Mexico for U.S. clients; Eastern Europe for Western European clients).[17] Hubs and nodes is a geographic model explaining how linked regions can cooperate to fulfill elements of an industry's value chain and collectively gain sufficient mass to drive innovation growth. In economics, a network effect (also called network externality or demand-side economies of scale) is the phenomenon by which the value or utility a user derives from a good or service depends on the number of users of compatible products. The model of hubs and nodes builds on Porter's cluster model which served well in the past, but as businesses and regions around the world have adjusted to the realities of globalization, the concept of clusters is becoming outdated. In the late 1990s, the Seoul Metropolitan Government in South Korea developed the Digital Media City (DMC), a 135-acre complex, four miles outside of the city's central business district in the Sangam-dong district. With Seoul's rapidly growing cluster of multi-media, IT, and entertainment industries, the Digital Media City, through its vibrant agglomeration, helped to promote these industries and companies whose core business required use of information, communication, and media technologies. DMC grew and prospered as a global business environment, raising Seoul as an east-Asian hub of commerce. The cluster of its digital media-related, high-tech firms spawned partnerships which in turn leveraged both human and social capital in the area. Eventually, DMC fed the innovation of more than 10,000 small-scale Internet, game, and telecommunication firms located in Seoul.[20]

Nigerian naira

Commodity De Facto Currency: Cash Crops Plantation/Rural Economics and Raw Materials Economic

Coffee-Belmont Livre De Facto Currency: BEL/HLV Currency Pair, Currency Basket to Stabilize Buyers and Sellers, Coffee-Tobacco Soil Peg, Coffee-Tobacco Plantation, Currency Board NO Central Bank

Banque Habitants

To provide a ballpark estimate, the cost range for a new bank or credit union can range from $2 million to $5 million, depending on size and many other variables. Use the guide we've created below to explore the cost breakdown of each component of a new facility.

Mercantilism, Market Extension Mergers (Infrastructure for Resources), Commodities Options Exchanges, Farmland Real Estate Brokerage Trust Account, Student Credit Cards, Coastal Belt, Conserved Péninsule,

Clients:

Open-pit Mines in with: large-scale alluvial and coastal mining

Ghana has three major geographic regions—coastal, forest, and northern savanna—the boundaries of which are not always clearly defined. By far the smallest of the regions, the coastal zone is traditionally a region of fishermen and small-scale farmers.

La Suite System: Real Estate as a Catalyst for Commodities Options Exchanges

Location:

Territorial cartels distribute districts of the market to be used only by individual participants, which act as monopolists.

Selling or buying cartels unite against the cartel's customers or suppliers, respectively. The former type is more frequent than the latter.

Standardization cartels implement common standards for sold or purchased products. If the members of a cartel produce different sorts or grades of a good, conversion factors are applied to calculate the value of the respective output.

Tuxôn Masculinity: Live Like Your Farther is Dead (Man of the House), Live like you are responsible for someone else while taking care of your wellbeing, Budget & Forecasting Finances, Keystone Habits (One Habit that adds multiple habits), Stretch Goals and Micro Goals, Pescatarian Potato Gastronomy, Contrast Training, and use Potential Psychology. "Having a son is like planting a tree. You need to let it grow and have it's own shadow!" — Tuxôn

Mercantilism Spectrum of CDF/NGN

CDF Raw Materials and CFA Products. (Prices); CDF Holding Company and CFA Conglomerate Company. (Equity and Dividend Yield); CDF is Gold Standard and CFA is Helicopter Money. (FX Rate/Hedging); CDF Helicopter Money [Supplier Currency] and CFA as Purchasing Power [Consumer Currency] (Currency Union & Currency Board and Negative Interest Rates); CDF is Congolese Franc and CFA is Central African Fran

Culinary linguistics, a sub-branch of applied linguistics, is the study of food and language across various interdisciplinary fields such as linguistic, anthropology, sociolinguistics, and consumption politics and globalisation.[1]

Competitive Cooking Gambling

Cooking Shows as Leagues

Verb Groups

Gastronomy Trends Marketing Teams

TUXÔN d’Or as Organization

Habitant Conservation Film Festival

Restaurant Clientel Grocery Stores

Cook Book based Libraries

Bocuse d’Or Qualifiers

Agriculture Festivals: Wool and Wine

Sporting Event Gastronomy

Nutritional Biochemistry Learning Show

Farmland Stock Simulators

Agronomics School

Pescatarian Gastronomy School

Agriculture Central Hedge Fund, Mining Unions, Peninsula Agronomique Engineering, Commodities Options Exchange (Credit Spread Options, Farm REITs, Crop Production; Fertelizers and Seeds; Equipment; Distribution and Processing Stocks, Ag ETFs and ETNs, Ag Mutual Funds), Tableau Économiques, Investments Farms REITs, Art Financing Carnival.

MY CRICKET

Ninety–90 Bash, also known as the 90/90 is an upcoming annual franchise-based 90-ball cricket league in the United Arab Emirates.[1] It will be slightly shorter than The Hundred which is a 100-ball cricket format founded by the England and Wales Cricket Board (ECB). Chaguanas has also been a hub for Indo-Trinidadian and Tobagonian culture and even the broader Indo-Caribbean culture.

Evening Cricket, Sports Betting Team Purse (20% to teams) and Short Form of Cricket Ninety–90 Bash Network: Trinidad and Tobago West Indies, Mumbai, Dubai, and Sri Lanka

Cricket System for Hawala Athletes: Entertainment District Stadiums, Maritime Corruption, Sin Stocks Investment Trust (Pharmaceuticals; Arms; Cannabis; Sportsbook; Entertainment District Quarterly Gross Revenue Rental Properties), and Kinaesthetic Learner Activities away from Cricket.

Trixie and Jersey Sales: Craftsmanship, Commercialism, Commerce, Cash-Conversion-Cycle, and Medium of Exchange.

Poaching for Bowlers: Jersey Sale Money, Purse Money added to my Contract, and 15-25 demographics Endorsements

CRICKET BOWLING

Swing bowling is a technique used for bowling in the sport of cricket. Practitioners are known as swing bowlers. Swing bowling is generally classed as a subtype of fast bowling.

Bodyline, also known as fast leg theory bowling, was a cricketing tactic devised by the English cricket team for their 1932–33 Ashes tour of Australia. It was designed to combat the extraordinary batting skill of Australia's leading batsman, Don Bradman. A bodyline delivery was one in which the cricket ball was bowled at pace, aimed at the body of the batsman in the expectation that when he defended himself with his bat, a resulting deflection could be caught by one of several fielders deliberately placed nearby on the leg side.

STREET CULTURE CRICKET

Slang: Sub Verbs Linguistics Arts Touch-Accuracy Cricket Street Game

Cricket System for Trapping Athletes: Entertainment District Stadiums, Maritime Corruption, Sin Stocks Investment Trust, and Kinaesthetic Learner Activities away from Cricket. Craftsmanship, Commercialism, Commerce, Cash-Conversion-Cycle, and Medium of Exchange.

Spiritual: Tutlery Deity Cricket Ancestry Invocation, Spiritual Baptist Cricket Spirit, Shaman King Athletics, Full Star Pluto with Gemini Mercury Winged Deity

Adult Entertainment: Caribbean Sports Betting

Video Game: Arcade Pinball Style Video Game with Bembé Rhythm Soundtrack

Food: Rum Mango Lassi Stadium Drink, Fish Fritters and Samosa-Naan Food Trucks

PROGRAM

Stroke Play: Vertical-bat or straight-bat shots can be played off either the front foot or the back foot depending upon the anticipated height of the ball at the moment it reaches the batter. The characteristic position of the bat is a vertical alignment at the point of contact. Vertical-bat shots are typically played with the batter's head directly above the point of contact so he is able to accurately judge the line of the ball. At this point, the bat can either be stationary and facing straight back down the wicket – known as a block or defensive shot; angled to one side – known as a glance or deflection; or travelling forwards towards the bowler – known as a drive.

Googly Bowling: Swing bowling is a technique used for bowling in the sport of cricket. Practitioners are known as swing bowlers. Swing bowling is generally classed as a subtype of fast bowling. Bodyline, also known as fast leg theory bowling, was a cricketing tactic devised by the English cricket team for their 1932–33 Ashes tour of Australia. It was designed to combat the extraordinary batting skill of Australia's leading batsman, Don Bradman. A bodyline delivery was one in which the cricket ball was bowled at pace, aimed at the body of the batsman in the expectation that when he defended himself with his bat, a resulting deflection could be caught by one of several fielders deliberately placed nearby on the leg side. In cricket, a dismissal occurs when a batter's innings is brought to an end by the opposing team. Other terms used are the batter being out, the batting side losing a wicket, and the fielding side taking a wicket. The ball becomes dead (meaning that no further runs can be scored off that delivery), and the dismissed batter must leave the field of play for the rest of their team's innings, to be replaced by a team-mate. A team's innings ends if ten of the eleven team members are dismissed. Players bat in pairs so, when only one batter remains who can be not out, it is not possible for the team to bat any longer. This is known as dismissing or bowling out the batting team, who are said to be all out. To grip the ball for a leg-spinning delivery, the ball is placed into the palm with the seam parallel to the palm. The first two fingers then spread and grip the ball, and the third and fourth fingers close together and rest against the side of the ball. The first bend of the third finger should grasp the seam. The thumb resting against the side is up to the bowler, but should impart no pressure. When the ball is bowled, the third finger will apply most of the spin. The wrist is cocked as it comes down by the hip, and the wrist moves sharply from right to left as the ball is released, adding more spin. The ball is tossed up to provide flight. The batter will see the back of the hand when the ball is released. An alternative grip is to hold the ball in the thumb, index finger and middle finger. The finger-print of both the thumb and index finger rest on the seam, as does the first bend of the middle finger. Together with rotation of the wrist, the index and middle fingers are involved in imparting spin on the ball and can achieve a very high number of revolutions.

Flow Aesthetic over Playing Style: 4 Runs Vertical Bat and Power Bowling

Cricket Physique: Contrast Training (Isometric-Plyometic Cardio & Kettlebell and Gymnastics Rings Isometric-Mobility), Vo2 Max Swimming, with Force Velocity Curve; Genome Editing: FBN1, ACTNX Calcium Metabolism, MSTN Gene, ACE Gene, and Sensory Processing Sensitive Brain ESTJ)

Extra: Showerbrush Method with Cucumber and Sebum Control: Conditioner, Bar Soap, Facial, Bar Soap. Cosmetic Application: Bronzer Sunscreen Coconut milk and Shea Butter, Aftershave Body splash, Fragrance Equipment: Durag, Wave Brush, Bottom Grillz;

ENTREPÔT NAVY MARTINIQUAIS (FRENCH ANTILLES) NOUCHI DIASPORA

Food Scents in Indo-Caribbean and NOUCHI Gastronomy Olfactory Arts: Mango, Coconut, Cucumber, Sheep Dairy, Herbal Ghee Mollusk, Garlic-Ginger, Dark Roast Coffee, Dark Chocolate, Cinnamon, Vanilla, and Molasses

Cabinda also produces hardwoods, coffee, cacao, rubber, and palm oil products; however, petroleum production accounts for most of Cabinda's domestic product.

Port Royal, Martinique Sister Cities: Antwerp, Belgium, Saint Pedro, Bas-Sassandra, Côte d'Ivoire; Boma, Cabinda, Angola; République Démocratique du Congo; St. John's, Newfoundland and Labrador; Le Havre, Normandy/Marseille-Caanes, Port Alpes Côte d'Azur, France

Bancassurance is a relationship between a bank and an insurance company[1] that is aimed at offering insurance products or insurance benefits to the bank's customers. In this partnership, bank staff and tellers become the point of sale and point of contact for the customer. Bank staff are advised and supported by the insurance company through wholesale product information, marketing campaigns and sales training. The bank and the insurance company share the commission. Insurance policies are processed and administered by the insurance company.

The staple right, also translated stacking right or storage right, both from the Dutch stapelrecht, was a medieval right accorded to certain ports, the staple ports. It required merchant barges or ships to unload their goods at the port and to display them for sale for a certain period, often three days. Only after that option had been given to local customers were traders allowed to reload their cargo and travel onwards with the remaining unsold freight.[1][2]

Gross national product accounts for its citizen’s productions both within and outside its borders. This figure then subtracts income earned by foreign residents within the country. By contrast, gross domestic product measures the production of goods and services made within a country’s borders by both citizens and foreign residents overall.

Marseille or Marseilles (French: Marseille; Provençal Occitan: Marselha; see below) is the prefecture of the French department of Bouches-du-Rhône and of the Provence-Alpes-Côte d'Azur region. Situated in the Provence region of southern France, it is located on the coast of the Gulf of Lion, part of the Mediterranean Sea, near the mouth of the Rhône river. A resident of Marseille is a Marseillais.

Tidjane Thiam (French: [tidʒan tiam];[1][2] born 29 July 1962) is an Ivorian and French businessman, and the executive chairman of Freedom Acquisition Corp.[3] He was the chief executive officer (CEO) of Swiss bank Credit Suisse from March 2015 to February 2020. He was the chief financial officer of British banking group Prudential from 2007 to 2009, and then its CEO until 2015. In 2019, Thiam became a member of the International Olympic Committee (IOC).[4][5][6]

João Manuel Gonçalves Lourenço GColIH (born 5 March 1954) is an Angolan politician who has served as the 3rd president of Angola since 26 September 2017.[4] Previously, he was Minister of Defence from 2014 to 2017. In September 2018, he became the Chairman of the People's Movement for the Liberation of Angola (MPLA), the ruling party. He was the party's Secretary-General from 1998 to 2003.

Serge Letchimy (French pronunciation: [sɛʁʒ lɛtʃimi]; born 13 January 1953) is the President of the Executive Council of Martinique and former member of the National Assembly of France. He represents the island of Martinique's 3rd constituency since June 2007, and is a member of The Socialists and affiliated parliamentary group. Letchimy is a member of the Martinican Progressive Party (PPM), or Parti progressiste martiniquais. He was the successor of Aimé Césaire as Mayor of Fort de France from 2001 to 2010 and was the final President of the Regional Council of Martinique from 26 March 2010 until its replacement by the Assembly of Martinique in December 2015.[1]

Capricornus is one of the 88 modern constellations, and was also one of the 48 constellations listed by the 2nd century astronomer Claudius Ptolemy. Its old astronomical symbol is (♑︎). Under its modern boundaries it is bordered by Aquila, Sagittarius*, Microscopium, Piscis Austrinus, and Aquarius*. The constellation is located in an area of sky called the Sea or the Water, consisting of many water-related constellations such as Aquarius, Pisces and Eridanus. It is the smallest constellation in the zodiac. (Sky God R'ad Angel)*

The French West Indies or French Antilles (French: Antilles françaises, [ɑ̃tij fʁɑ̃sɛːz]; Antillean Creole: Antiy fwansé) are the parts of France located in the Antilles islands of the Caribbean:

The two overseas departments of:

Guadeloupe, including the islands of Basse-Terre, Grande-Terre, Les Saintes, Marie-Galante, and La Désirade.

Martinique

The two overseas collectivities of:

Saint Martin, the northern half of the island with the same name, the southern half is Sint Maarten, a constituent country of the Kingdom of the Netherlands.

Saint Barthélemy

Metallurgy Purchasing Matrix Business Cluster Entrepôt with Mineral Water Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ)

Regions: Fragrance and Cosmetics Artisanal Plantation, Cash Crops, open-pit-large-scale alluvial and coastal Mining, and Technology Farming

Real Estate Urban Economics: Urban Coastal City Slum and Marina

Port Economics: Coastal City; Urban Brooklyn; County Line Trafficking Coastal City Slum Lords Bay Area

Funding: Naval Local Government

County Line Trafficking: Homestead and Artist Residency

Education: Trade School for Mining, Tile Cutting, and Fishing

Indo-Caribbean Gastronomy: Coconut Flakes Rice, Coconut Cream, Coconut Curry Yogurt Rice Pudding/Mollusk Sauce

Antillanité is a literary and political movement developed in the 1960s that stresses the creation of a specific West Indian identity out of a multiplicity of ethnic and cultural elements.

Subsistence Cashew: Subsistence agriculture occurs when farmers grow food crops to meet the needs of themselves and their families on smallholdings. Subsistence agriculturalists target farm output for survival and for mostly local requirements, with little or no surplus. The Anacardiaceae, commonly known as the cashew family[1] or sumac family, are a family of flowering plants, including about 83 genera with about 860 known species.[2] Members of the Anacardiaceae bear fruits that are drupes and in some cases produce urushiol, an irritant. The Anacardiaceae include numerous genera, several of which are economically important, notably cashew (in the type genus Anacardium), mango, Chinese lacquer tree, yellow mombin, Peruvian pepper, poison ivy, poison oak, sumac, smoke tree, marula and cuachalalate. The genus Pistacia (which includes the pistachio and mastic tree) is now included, but was previously placed in its own family, the Pistaciaceae.[3]

Café — French Cheese Garlic Onion-Mushroom Culinary Linguistics (Rugxé)

Café — Rugxé Linguistics

Goûter: Buttermilk, Whipping Cream, and Rugxé

Lunch: Cigarillos and Dark Roast Coffee undertones of Molasses, Dark Chocolate, Cinnamon

Dinner: Rugxé Crustless Quiche, Rugxé Pomme Purée, and Rugxé Patty Melts

Sense: Umami or Goûter

Cinq au Cinq Linguistics 5x5 Cooking: Colors, Scents, Cooking Methods, Senses, and Flavors (Five Spot for Top 5 Ingredients/Methods)

Phonology: X Vowel Harmony, Soft Rs, Norrow and Long Lips

Larousse Linguistics: Rugxé under Stewing, Sautée, or Bouquet Garni

Pedagogy, most commonly understood as the approach to teaching, is the theory and practice of learning, and how this process influences, and is influenced by, the social, political, and psychological development of learners.

FOREIGN DIRECT INTERVENTION (GUERILLA NAVY INFRASTRUCTURE)

A navy, naval force, military maritime fleet, war navy, or maritime force is the branch of a nation's armed forces principally designated for naval and amphibious warfare; namely, lake-borne, riverine, littoral, or ocean-borne combat operations and related functions. It includes anything conducted by surface ships, amphibious ships, submarines, and seaborne aviation, as well as ancillary support, communications, training, and other fields.

The strategic offensive role of a navy is projection of force into areas beyond a country's shores (for example, to protect sea-lanes, deter or confront piracy, ferry troops, or attack other navies, ports, or shore installations). The strategic defensive purpose of a navy is to frustrate seaborne projection-of-force by enemies. The strategic task of the navy also may incorporate nuclear deterrence by use of submarine-launched ballistic missiles. Naval operations can be broadly divided between riverine and littoral applications (brown-water navy),

Naval operations can be broadly divided between riverine and littoral applications (brown-water navy), open-ocean applications (blue-water navy), and something in between (green-water navy), although these distinctions are more about strategic scope than tactical or operational division.

FX NEGATIVE INTEREST RATE ENTREPÔT CURRENCY

Cash crops are agricultural crops that are planted for the purpose of selling on the market or for export to make profit, as distinguished from subsistence crops planted for the purpose of self-supply of the farmer (like livestock feeding or food for the family).

A commodity index is an index that tracks the price and returns on a basket of commodities. These indexes are often accessible for investing through mutual funds or exchange traded funds (ETFs). Many investors who want access to the commodities market without entering the futures market decide to invest in commodity index funds.

A de facto currency is a unit of money that is not legal tender in a country but is treated as such by most of the populace. The United States dollar and the European Union euro are the most common de facto currencies.

The franc was the currency of Martinique until 2002.

SEPHORA RHODIUM TRAFFICKERS

🇨🇮🇨🇮🇨🇮🇨🇮🇨🇮🇨🇮🇨🇮🇨🇮🇨🇮🇨🇮🇨🇮🇨🇮🇨🇮🇨🇮🇨🇮🇨🇮🇨🇮🇨🇮🇨🇮🇨🇮🇨🇮🇨🇮🇨🇮🇨🇮🇨🇮🇨🇮🇨🇮🇨🇮🇨🇮🇨🇮🇨🇮🇨🇮🇨🇮🇨🇮🇨🇮🇨🇮

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thekatebridgerton · 5 months ago

Note

Shelley Conn aka Mary Sharma played prince of hell in the new season of Good Omens, so here's an idea of the AU where all the siblings are demons who were send on Earth to cause chaos and lusty shenanigans. And their spouses are angels send to stop the sin. But nothing goes with Ineffable Plan, angels fall for demons and vice versa. Now they are on their own side. Also Newton is Cerberus because I just love all the jokes from Greek mythology fandom about Cerberus being a cheeky three-headed corgy.

You know considering how many Bridgerton fans are also Good Omens fans, this woul be great. I do think @seaowl does have a au that goes along those lines so make sure to check out that blog too.

Since I personally haven't seen GO. This ask is going to go in a slightly different direction. Although I do love the idea of Kate having a 3 headed corgi.

But back to the topic if I had to do a Angels and Demons 2024 au it would be more along the lines of both angels and demons being undercover as regular humans in this little town of Mayfair. And just for kicks and giggles neither the angels or the demons know that the people they are falling in love with are holy/demonic. Since the only way to reveal something like that would be with a kiss.

Each pair gets a person with holy potential that they either have to corrupt to hell or elevate into sainthood before they can go back to their respective realms and attain wings or horns.

So lets explore this, shall we. ?

Angels and demons 2024 au

Kate and Anthony get assigned to Edwina, a young debutante who is both angelic and devilish, meaning she could go either way. Kate poses as Edwina's stepsister who just came from India to help her debut, and Anthony poses as the devilish Viscount who is after her hand. Kate's mission is to get Edwina safely married to a good man so she can lead a kind and honest life and Anthony's mission is to corrupt Edwina so she falls into sin and debauchery.... Its just that somewhere along the line, Kate and Anthony lose track of the fact that their mark was Edwina and not each other, because lately all Kate seems to do is attempt to convince Anthony that there is good in him, while all Anthony seems to do, is try to seduce Kate into tasting sin, betray Edwina and let go of her determination to go back to heaven I mean ... India.

Benedict and Sophie get assigned to Posy, another debutante, so firmly under her evil mother's thumb that Benedict thinks turning her into a evil mini Araminta will be easy. Except that Sophie, the family maid, has been working on keeping Posey good since Posey was a child. So Benedict immediately decides that for Posey to completely turn evil he just needs to corrupt the saintly maid first. If Posey sees Sophie as a fallen woman, she's obviously going to let go of any desire to be good. But corrupting Sophie turns out to be harder than Benedict thought, because she's kind and thoughtful and Benedict finds himself drawn to her light. Meanwhile Sophie is almost sure that Benedict is a demon sent to torment her, with the way he's tempting her into letting go of her morals..

Penelope and Colin were not assigned to anyone they're just there as backup for the other members of their squad to help them if the mission gets difficult. Penelope does this by using Lady Whistledown to influence things in the angels favor, Colin does it by intentionally popping up around his siblings and stirring up chaos. And since they're both always near the drama or keeping track of the drama, the have become friends, and maybe even feel some attraction for each other... Which promptly ends in more drama when Penelope asks Colin to kiss her, ( thinking he's a regular human) and they both discover that they're fighting for opposite teams!! Way to wreck a friendship

Phillip and Eloise, used to be assigned to George and Marina, their missions were technically successful as George died a war hero and Marina took a voluntary swim in the lake. The thing is that, because heaven and hell can't decide if George and Marina should be together in the afterlife, the tiebreaker mission is their orphaned twin children. Phillip is posing as their aloof but loving uncle and Eloise is posing as the Nanny who is here to encourage evil deeds and seduce their father figure... Can't imagine which team will win this particular battle of wills

Michael and Francesca were assigned to John, who died as perfect 50/50, meaning the mission failed on both sides and both Michael and Francesca blame themselves for it. And are currently taking out those saintly sinner frustrations on each other.

Daphne and Simon also sent to Earth as backup, more on the admin side of heaven and hell than anything else. These two were so bored with their duties of reporting the issues of their team to the higher ups that they intentionally sought out a challenge in the ballrooms of London and found each other. They delayed their first kiss for so long that they found out that their partner was an angel/ devil AFTER they were married in a church. And since any marriage for an angel and a demon with another non-human is valid in every realm, they are absolutely panicking and can't get it anulled

Gareth and Hyacinth somehow ended up with Lady Danbury as a mission and promptly gave up. They do not get paid enough to take on THAT so early in their careers. Which just means that both Gareth and Hyacinth have been spending most of their time on earth running away from responsibility and trying to justify to their family exactly why they haven't found a way to send Lady Danbury to heaven or hell. The perfect excuse? Hyacinth is trying to reform Lady Danbury's grandson/ Gareth is trying to seduce the daughter of Lady Danbury's best friend.

Gregory and Lucy want their missions yo fail because they both think they're not ready for a promotion. Their assignment is Hermione and Lucy is doing everything in her saintly power to make Hermione think that falling from grace was all her idea, and Gregory is doing his devilish utmost to manipulate Hermione into going down the path of goodness and decency. Its just so annoying that for all Lucy keeps talking about supporting that, her actions are all about supporting Hermione's worst tendencies. Lucy thinks that if Gregory really wanted Hermione he should just seduce her properly so Lucy can report she failed on her mission and go back home. But now Gregory seems to be onto her, fine, if he's going to wreck her plans, so is she. Time for the ' be Gregory's friend and convince him to corrupt Hermione' plan all while Gregory is on the ' Be Lucy's friend and convince her to stop enabling Hermione plan' which turns into the ' oh no I'm falling in love with this person' panic mode.

This was a fun ask, I wanted to keep it short but the au ran away with me. What do you think anon.

In the meantime that's all the tea I got on this au

#bridgerton #angels and demons au #Bridgerton au #Kanthony #polin #benophie

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impulsivemuses · 9 months ago

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"Oh, I PLAN to, bitch." She darkly chuckled out leaning closer to her ear. This is what Emberlynn wanted all her life, wasn't it? To be owned and ABUSED by another species compared to her. Mary is no stranger to having sex with Imps depending on if they wore protection. The last thing that Mary wanted was to ACTUALLY be a mommy. Thankfully, she didn't have to worry about that with Emberlynn due to Gentelia differences.

"You talk a big game earlier when we met how you wanted to have a demon ruin you when we talked in Hell, but are you gonna walk this walk, huh?" She knew exactly what she had in mind for this. She hissed a low breath. "You're a disgusting demon whore now, see how everyone is watching us making you be used by ME? Undress in front of them. Show how much you want a monster to see you naked." Mary hissed that order and lets go of Emberlynn's hair just to make sure that she could do the command that Mary bestowed onto her.

Emberlynn let out a sharp cry, her mouth splitting into a horny grin from the manhandling. Getting roughhoused by a buxom demon lady was better than what she could have ever imagined.

"YES! I AM A DIRTY LITTLE WHORE! PUNISH ME, MOMMY~!" Emberlynn loudly encouraged, letting out another moan from the following slap. She could give less of a fuck if everyone else was watching them. In fact, it just made her hornier to know all these other monsters were watching.

#SOBBING AT THE IDEA THAT THEY'RE DOING THIS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROOM AND EVERYONE IS WATCHING EMBERLYNN GETTING HUMILATED BY MARY ASDKQKY #IC.#CW NSFT #monsterhouseparty #sinfulparadise #DEVILISH DESIRE (MARY)

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intheshadowsbehindyou · 2 years ago

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Hiiii :3 I already love your writing and characterization so much, its mwah, chefs kiss.

I was wondering if you'd be okay with either a scenario or head canons where Spy and reader are having a contest in which whoever touches the other first loses. Lots of teasing ensues. No pressure! Again, love ur writing! <3

hiiiii <3 Thank you. I try my best to go for a more canon approach when writing the TF2 characters. Glad to see another certified Spy lover in here.

Spy teases Y/N and purposes an offer to them (Mild NSFW)

Warning: uhhhh wholesome cuddles?!?? no way

———————— ———- ———

- Spy is fully aware that you’re incredibly touch starved. Being an older and experienced gentlemen in life and romance, he can’t say the same for himself. He has a long streak of fucking around. This guy is a manwhore. You’re most likely a more younger adult than him. Your relationship is akin to a lion and his ruthless little cub. Sigmund freud is rolling in his grave right now.

- Your undying lust for his touch is quickly noticed by him. It take it upon himself to fiddle around with this knowledge. You hug his arm while he’s standing on the roof of the base smoking. He gently slips his arm away from your tight grasp and runs his fingers through your hair. “I see you are obnoxiously fawning over my presence as always, favori.”

- He cant lie, he kind of enjoys the fact you’re so clingy with him. His pride gets in the way of properly expressing this. He gives you a devilish looking side smile. “I will offer you a proposition. If you can resist my ravishing presence for at least two days, I’ll give you something nice and good.”

- You have no idea what he means by that, but nonetheless a challenge is a challenge and you are quite curious yourself. It’s fine for the first few hours but stress entices you to his warm body again. You oh-so-desperately want to run your fingers across his suit and explore his chest. You frown and watch him carry on his duties from afar.

- During a set-up you approach him while he’s preoccupied with his disguise kit and try and strike up small talk. You need to be around him. Shit’s way too much right now. He eyes you suspiciously as you unconsciously inch closer. “Now, now. Any closer and you might not get your little treat, mon amour.”

- Makes fun of you for being so touch starved on a regular basis. Teases you by decloaking behind you and whispering a series of rather sickly sweet french in your ear whilst nobody’s present. You can feel his calm breath on your neck and said ear. His sleepy demeanor despite the blood and chaos around him oddly helps you relax.

- DAMMIT. you want to hug this guy so bad. You pout at him as you all head back to your quarters for the night and he smiles and taps two fingers on his invis watch. Reminding you that’s it’s only two days. Consider this mercy.

- You come to him after two days. Immediately flopping your entire weight on his body while he reads in his quarters. You knew the desired time was up and you were already burnt out. “Mm. Yes, you’re worse than I thought.” He thoughtfully tells you. Putting his book down on your body and inhaling smoke from his cigar. “Very well, you’ve earned this.”

- To release you from this terrible hell, he plants a kiss on your forehead and brings you up to his chest. Cradling you in his arms easily. He lets loose on you; kissing you and exploring your mouth with his tongue. Petting your head and rubbing you. You’re locked in a fetal position in the man’s big arms so you can’t really do much. Now you know what a chihuahua feels like when its forcibly kissed by its overbearing owner.

- He’s kind of violent by the way. Expect a lot of bites leaving bruises down your neck and blood drawn. He wastes no time manhandling you. Refusing the latter. There’s no way in fucking Mary mother of god’s name he’ll be anything other than in control. He needs to feel in control of this. He respects your boundaries and wishes politely though. Not a bitey person? That’s fine. He’ll be grumpy about it but comply nonetheless with a slightly less harmful kind of torture.

#team fortress 2 #tf2 #tw blood #spy x reader #tf x you #team fortress 2 x reader

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randonauticrap · 2 years ago

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Coquettish (Leon Dompteur x Reader)

Happy Gift Witch Day, @leonscape! I hope you enjoy this wholesome Leon content!! <3

Prompt: Leaf piles

Suitor: Leon Dompteur

Warnings: Suggestive mention, but 98% fluff!

“Thanks for helping me out, Leon.” you said, huffing as you raked the last of the leaves from the front of the palace into your pile.

“Oh, it’s no trouble!” he called back from his pile a few feet away. “Seeing as Rio had to take care of some other business, I wouldn’t want you doing this by yourself. Besides, it just gives me an excuse to spend more time with you, and what man wouldn’t want that?” he teased, sending a wink your way. You giggled, reminding yourself he was only teasing as your heartbeat sped up in your chest.

“You’re so cruel for teasing me like that.” you stuck your tongue out at him playfully and his grin widened as he stepped up to you.

“Hey, you’re the cruel one for being so tempting.” he said, flashing his charming smile at you.

“I am not a dessert!” you scolded, and he stepped even closer, leaning down so his warm breath puffed in your ear as he answered, and you could hear his smile through his words.

“You could be.”

“Leon!” you gasped and stepped back quickly, certain that if you stayed that close to him much longer you’d give in to your forbidden desires. But your foot caught on a root in the ground below you and you went tumbling backwards, landing butt first, with a cacophony of crinkles and crunches, in your tall leaf pile. For a split second, Leon assessed you earnestly from head to toe before a gleeful smile took over his face and he let out a boisterous laugh.

“Leon,” you grumbled, looking around you at your ruined pile. “Now I’ve gotta fix it again.”

“I’ll fix it later, don’t worry about it.” Leon’s voice came at you from above and you looked up just in time to see his devilish smile and his arms full of leaves before he rained them down on your head.

“Leon!” you yelped, your arms flying up to brace yourself as much as possible as they covered you. “Alright, two can play this game!” you huffed, gathering leaves into your own arms and pulling yourself up off the ground.

“Only if you can catch me!” Leon cackled before bounding away.

“Get back here, Leon Dompteur!” you laughed loudly as you chased after him.

Sariel looked on from the window, shaking his head ruefully as he watched the scene unfold. “Well, at least they’re having a nice time.” he murmured before turning to a servant nearby. “Have the maids clean up the front lawn this afternoon.” The servant nodded and ducked out of the room. Sariel looked back down at you and Leon, who had somehow ended up overturned together in Leon’s pile of leaves, the prince chuckling as he plucked them from your hair while you rested against his chest.

“That’s the happiest I’ve seen him in awhile.” Sariel chuckled quietly, secretly grateful he was able to witness the look of pure bliss on the prince’s face.

Tags for the Lovelies: @rhodolitesroseforclavis @aquagirl1978 @ikehoe @maries-gallery @queengiuliettafirstlady @veervers @nightghoul381 @itsjudesfault @xbalayage @kissmetwicekissmedeadly

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikemen series #leon dompteur #ikepri leon #ikemen prince leon #otome game #cybird ikemen #ikeseries #leon dompteur fluff #ikepri fanfic #ikepri fanfiction #ikemen prince fanfic #ikemen prince fanfiction #Happy Gift Witch Day!

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angelswing236 · 2 years ago

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"Come with me, hurry."

Fictober 2023

Category: Fanfiction

Fandom: Downton Abbey

‘Come with me, hurry,’ Matthew breathed in his wife’s ear, looming up behind her as she sipped the cocktail Carson had just handed her.

‘Why? What’s the matter?’ Mary whispered back, taken by surprise.

Matthew plucked the glass from her, setting it on the table beside them, and then took her hand, tugging on it.

‘Don’t ask questions. Just come with me right now. Don’t stop and don’t speak to anyone.’

Worried now, Mary followed him as he led the way out of the drawing room to the morning room, looking very stern.

‘Matthew, whatever’s wrong?’ she asked anxiously as he ushered her inside and shut the door behind them.

‘Are you trying to drive me insane?’ he asked, turning and advancing towards her, his face alight with desire. ‘Look at you. How do you expect me to sit and have dinner with you when you’re looking like that? All I want to do is ravish you.’

Mary let out a startled laugh, breaking into a delighted smile, feeling a million times sexier than a few seconds ago. ‘Oh, really? Is that why you brought me in here? To ravish me?’

‘Would you object if I did?’ he murmured, backing her up against the wall, his hands on her waist, his lips on her neck.

‘Hmmm, hmmm, I… I should,’ Mary gasped, tilting her head to one side as he kissed a spot on her neck that made her knees weak. ‘Everyone is just across the corridor.’

‘I know. That’s why I brought you in here,’ he said, pulling her dress up. ‘Can’t do this in front of them.’

‘Oh, you’re so naughty,’ Mary sighed as his fingertips caressed the bare skin above her stocking.

‘What’s the point of finally being married if we can’t be naughty?’ he asked, dragging his lips up to her jawline. ‘I want you. I want you right now. So, are you going to let me ravish you?’

‘We’d have to be quick,’ she said, already wrapping a leg around him.

‘Oh, I can be quick,’ he promised.

‘But not too quick,’ she purred, her hands going to the buttons on his trousers.

‘Don’t worry. I’ll make it worth your while,’ he growled with a devilish grin. ‘I won’t leave you wanting more. Well, I might, but in a good way.’

‘You always leave me wanting more, my darling.’

Matthew grinned and sank into her.

#fictober23 #downton abbey #mary crawley #mary x matthew #matthew crawley #fanfiction #writing prompt #writing challenge

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ladykailolu · 2 years ago

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Imagine an older Marigold bringing a lover home,

You know she’s gonna, she’s the daughter of Mia Fey and Godot, two total hotties

When Marigold gets grown she’s gonna be a fine as hell

So imagine Godot’s reaction to her bringing home someone (a boy or a girl)

He knows it's coming. Godot knows that someday, somebody would come along and threaten to take his Marigold away from him.

And that day sadly has come. Predictably, he's a bit stiff with them, either outright challenging and rough with her boyfriend or chauvinistic with her girlfriend.

Well, he only wants to protect his daughter, of course, after everything that they've been through.

Although, I also imagine that Mari's good looks would attract some...less desirable people. The kind of people who want to use her either for her pure heart or for her looks. So she's met a lot of people like that, and one of them was an affluent teen who thought and acted like he owned her. They got into an argument, and he slapped her. Imagine if this happened right outside of Godot's coffee shop. While serving customers, Godot looks up, watching them through the large window by the front door. He can't hear what they're saying, but he can tell that something is not right in the quick way they're gesturing and that they're not smiling. They appear to be yelling and aggressive. The boyfriend grabs the sleeve of her shirt, and she smacks his hand away.

Then he smacks her. Right across the face. For Godot to see in full glory.

He was smiling while serving customers, and as he watched the two youths outside his establishment, the smile faded away. Now, it was wiped clean off his face.

Quicker than a flash, he bolted outside and inserted himself in between the teens. He made to grab the boy, but he slipped away like a devilish little fish and scurried off like a cockroach.

Behind Godot, Mari crouched to the ground, shocked and holding her face. It still stung where he hit her, and even with her father there, she couldn't process what had happened. But then she felt her father's eyes on her, as well as other eyes peering out from the shop, and suddenly she felt like an exhibit on display.

Godot helped her up and offered to take her home right then and there. Someone else will pick up the slack and cover for him. But Mari refuses and states that she doesn't want to be alone right now. So she stays with her father in the coffee shop, sitting in a corner mostly out of sight from the sidewalk, working on her homework as much as she could and trying not to cry.

And her now ex-boyfriend is like the best friend of the other teen who stabbed her.

#marigold fey #ace attorney godot #prosecutor godot #godot #diego armando #ace attorney #ace attorney oc #oc #not my oc #oreocookiezzz #asks #lady k answers

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violetskies65 · 2 years ago

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American Mary: Movie Recap (No Spoilers)

After viewing some Saw traps on TikTok, my FYP seemed to give itself a new freaky route. I was then given an oversight video about Canadian (how ironic) horror film, American Mary. I'm not the biggest horror buff, that type can be attributed more to my mother! However, as someone with an interest in bizarre films like the Human Centipede, I found the medical aspect intriguing.

This movie was on Netflix forever, but now it is free to watch (with ads) on up and coming streaming app Tubi. I mean eh, I would say Tubi movies are hit or miss, but this one is actually pretty good, especially for the month of October.

American Mary follows the struggling and starving med student Mary. She seems to be written to be wise beyond her years, which it makes it even more frustrating watching her deal with her asshole med teacher, who would later go on to become an important plot point, and later victim of Mary.

Mary begins to support herself by conducting absurd plastic surgeries and body modifications. She and her unique work were discovered in a strip club, where she also planned to work to support herself. However, after being offered $2k to just merely show up in a vets office after hours, she realized stripping wasn't for her. The film doesn't really ecpand on it, but she is basically mutilating these individuals, yet some where looking for just exactly the results Mary has given them.

Ruby Realgirl, is both the first and best example. She's just a Real girl, who wants to be a doll, with a desire to have no sexual features or function of her anatomy. Despite this being the first body modification surgery in the film, it goes smoothly. Really, the film goes on stretches further than this, developing and showcasing Mary's madness and likeliness to perform such extreme modifications.

This horror film is a bit outlandish, but the gore seems to be a bit tuned down. Especially in comparison to other torture films like Saw (yes, there are some torture scenes here). Yet, I still think some of the characters can be attributed eerily to real life people. I mean does anybody remember the real human barbie? Valeria Lukaynova.

So really, I can see this film teeter-tottering on the brink of reality and fiction. I mean, do you really have any idea what might happen under ground of a strip club? Anything really, or, there is extreme modifications, a gang, and a devilish experimental girl. It's hard to just limit where people will go nowadays due to the rise of plastic surgery and body mods as well.

I love the dark vampy theme of this movie, the plot, and the acting is even great too! If you are a thriller or slasher fan however, the slow pacing and lack of actual blood and guts isn't there, so this may not be the best horror film for you. Yet, it is still enjoyable based on a ton of other aspects.

#american mary #horror movies #body modifactions #plastic surgery #scary movies #horror #gothic #dark aesthetic #october #halloween

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anotherghostbandsimper · 2 years ago

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𝔑𝔢𝔴 𝔈𝔯𝔞: 𝔖𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔲𝔦𝔫𝔞𝔯𝔦𝔞

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔬𝔪𝔞𝔫 𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔟𝔢𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔩𝔢𝔯𝔤𝔶. ℌ𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢 𝔥𝔞𝔡 𝔣𝔦𝔫𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔶 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢. 𝔖𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔟𝔢𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔓𝔞𝔭𝔞. 𝔄𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔲𝔞𝔩 𝔟𝔢𝔤𝔞𝔫 𝔫𝔢𝔯𝔳𝔢𝔰 𝔟𝔲𝔦𝔩𝔱 𝔲𝔭 𝔦𝔫𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔥𝔢𝔯, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔰𝔥𝔢 𝔨𝔢𝔭𝔱 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔪𝔞𝔱𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔡 𝔢𝔶𝔢𝔰 𝔠𝔩𝔬𝔰𝔢𝔡. 𝔄𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔦𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔭𝔭𝔢𝔡, 𝔰𝔥𝔢 𝔬𝔭𝔢𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔢𝔶𝔢𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 ℭ𝔬𝔭𝔦𝔞 𝔭𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔢𝔡 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔪𝔦𝔱𝔯𝔢 𝔬𝔫 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔡. 𝔖𝔥𝔢 𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔨𝔢𝔡 𝔡𝔬𝔴𝔫 𝔞𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔪𝔞𝔱𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔯𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔟𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔡 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔨𝔰 𝔱𝔬 ℭ𝔬𝔭𝔦𝔞.

𝔖𝔢𝔦 𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔨𝔢𝔡 𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔯𝔬𝔴𝔡 𝔬𝔣 𝔊𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔰, 𝔊𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔰, 𝔠𝔩𝔢𝔯𝔤𝔶𝔪𝔢𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔦𝔟𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔰𝔦𝔫 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔴𝔞𝔱𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔥𝔢𝔯. ℌ𝔢𝔯 𝔣𝔞𝔠𝔢 𝔱𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔡 𝔰𝔩𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔩𝔶 𝔞𝔰 ℭ𝔬𝔭𝔦𝔞 𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔣𝔞𝔠𝔢, 𝔰𝔦𝔪𝔦𝔩𝔞𝔯 𝔱𝔬 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔣𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔰 (𝔗𝔢𝔯𝔷𝔬) 𝔞𝔰 𝔞 𝔫𝔬𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔴𝔥𝔬𝔪 𝔰𝔥𝔢 𝔥𝔞𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪. 𝔄𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔲𝔞𝔩 𝔠𝔞𝔪𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔞𝔫 𝔢𝔫𝔡 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔤𝔞𝔫 𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔫𝔤, 𝔢𝔵𝔠𝔢𝔭𝔱 𝔖𝔢𝔦 𝔞𝔫𝔡 ℭ𝔬𝔭𝔦𝔞. ℌ𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔖𝔢𝔦 𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔬𝔫 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔴𝔫 𝔊𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔰 𝔟𝔢𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔭𝔲𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔰

"𝔗𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔨𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔬𝔣 𝔞 𝔫𝔢𝔴 𝔢𝔯𝔞, 𝔖𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔲𝔦𝔫𝔞𝔯𝔦𝔞"

𝔄𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔤𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔰 𝔠𝔩𝔞𝔴𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔦𝔯 𝔴𝔞𝔶 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔲𝔯𝔣𝔞𝔠𝔢, 𝔖𝔢𝔦 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔲𝔢𝔡 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤. 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔩𝔞𝔰𝔱 𝔤𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔢 𝔠𝔯𝔞𝔴𝔩𝔢𝔡 𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔖𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯 ℑ𝔪𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔬𝔯 𝔴𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔫𝔬 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢 𝔦𝔫 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔫𝔤 ℭ𝔬𝔭𝔦𝔞 𝔭𝔬𝔦𝔰𝔬𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔥𝔦𝔪 𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔡 𝔞𝔴𝔞𝔶 𝔞𝔰 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔠𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔱𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔡 𝔥𝔢𝔩𝔭𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔰.

𝔖𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔓𝔞𝔭𝔞 𝔫𝔬𝔴. 𝔑𝔬𝔱 𝔰𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔰𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔶 𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔞𝔩.

New Songs written and composed by Papa Emeritus V.

Dawn of the New

Anti-Christ

Cult Of Carnage

Description:

Sei Emeritus stands at an impressive 5’10, her skin (or what is seen) is a very pale ivory. Her eyes are mismatched, one green and one white (the signature ‘Emeritus Eye’) Her black hair is always kept short and slicked back, as to not catch on her fancy papal robes or mess her papal make-up on. She is a healthy weight; however, this is something Papa Emeritus V asked personally we do not disclose her weight or anything to personal.

Achievements: Much like her Zio Copia, Papa V has wracked up quite a few musical rewards for the Clergy. However, she has also wracked quite a few acting rewards to, appearing in TV shows (out of her Papal robes and makeup) under the persona Selis Jane Smith. The Clergy used their influence to manipulate people to believe this persona, and the lie.

Setlist for V-Tour

Kaisarion

Rats

Anti-Christ

Dawn of The New

From the Pinnacle to The Pit

Spillways

Sanguinaria

Cirice

And the Devil Is All

Ritual

Call me Little Sunshine

Con clavi con Dio

Watcher in The Sky

Year Zero

He Is

Maisma

Mary On a Cross

Mummy Dust

Kiss The Go Goat

Dance Macabre

Square Hammer

Cult Of Carnage

Verse 1:

In the shadows we gather, the sinners of the night.

Unveiling our true essence, bathed in unholy light.

The moon shines upon us, as we dance with delight.

With crimson desire, our hearts take wicked flight.

Pre-Chorus:

We thirst for blood, the sacrificial feast.

In the depths of darkness, our wicked souls released.

A symphony of blasphemy, we sing our devilish hymns.

In the Cult of Carnage, the eternal night begins.

Chorus:

Bloodthirsty souls, chanting evermore.

Satan's children, forever to adore.

In the Cult of Carnage, our spirits intertwined.

Embracing darkness, leaving righteousness behind

Verse 2:

We walk the path of shadows, seduced by the abyss.

Embracing all the sins, the pleasures we cannot resist.

Our hearts, black as coal, as we dance under the moon.

The Devil's whispers guide us, in this unholy commune.

Pre-Chorus:

We thirst for blood, the sacrificial feast.

In the depths of darkness, our wicked souls released.

A symphony of blasphemy, we sing our devilish hymns.

In the Cult of Carnage, the eternal night begins.

Chorus:

Bloodthirsty souls, chanting evermore.

Satan's children, forever to adore.

In the Cult of Carnage, our spirits intertwined.

Embracing darkness, leaving righteousness behind

Bridge:

Worshiping the Master, in rites and mystic rites

Serving the infernal fire, as we walk these unholy nights.

Sacrifices offered, to awaken Lucifer's embrace.

In the Cult of Carnage, we revel in our sinful grace.

Chorus:

Bloodthirsty souls, chanting evermore.

Satan's children, forever to adore.

In the Cult of Carnage, our spirits intertwined.

Embracing darkness, leaving righteousness behind

Outro:

As the dawn approaches, we retreat to the shadows' embrace.

With a taste for blood and darkness, never to be replaced.

In the Cult of Carnage, our thirst forever will remain.

Bound by Satan's chains, in his unholy domain.

Sanguinaria

(Verse 1)

In the nightshade's embrace, I wander alone.

Through the shadows of sorrow, where darkness is sown.

A crimson tide flows, a haunting symphony

Sanguinaria, my mistress, beckons me.

(Pre-Chorus)

Beneath the moon's pale light, we dance in secrecy.

An eerie serenade whispers through the trees

From crimson lips, she sings of love and despair.

Her voice, a wicked charm in the midnight air

(Chorus)

Bloodstained Serenade, a melody divine

A symphony of anguish, where souls intertwine.

In the depths of the night, where secrets reside.

Sanguinaria's seduction, no mortal can hide.

(Verse 2)

Her touch like velvet, yet cold as a winter's breath

The taste of copper on her lips, a lingering caress

Her eyes, like rubies, piercing through the night.

Sanguinaria, the mistress of eternal delight

(Pre-Chorus)

Beneath the moon's pale light, we dance in secrecy.

An eerie serenade whispers through the trees

From crimson lips, she sings of love and despair.

Her voice, a wicked charm in the midnight air

(Chorus)

Bloodstained Serenade, a melody divine

A symphony of anguish, where souls intertwine.

In the depths of the night, where secrets reside.

Sanguinaria's seduction, no mortal can hide.

(Bridge)

She calls to the lost souls, the forsaken and forlorn.

Binding them with crimson chains, forever to be reborn

Her touch, a sweet temptation, a symphony of sin

In her embrace, we find solace, where darkness begins.

(Solo)

(Chorus)

Bloodstained Serenade, a melody divine

A symphony of anguish, where souls intertwine.

In the depths of the night, where secrets reside.

Sanguinaria's seduction, no mortal can hide.

(Outro)

As the moon fades away, she vanishes without a trace.

Leaving behind a longing, a desire that cannot be erased.

Sanguinaria, the mistress of our endless night

In her siren's embrace, we find our cruel delight.

Anti-Christ

Verse 1:

In shadows deep, where darkness dwells,

The Anti-Christ, his tale foretells.

A wicked prophet, with eyes of fire,

He whispers secrets, stokes the desire.

Pre-Chorus:

Illuminated by the moonlight's glow,

Serpents dance, as his power grows.

He lures the masses, with unholy charm,

Unveiling salvation, in the name of harm.

Chorus:

Lucifer's reign, upon us falls,

Unholy tempest, as darkness calls.

The Anti-Christ, his venom spreads,

Leading the lost, with twisted threads.

Verse 2:

A symphony of shadows, cast in the night,

A diabolic covenant, conjuring fright.

He deceives the faithful, with words disguised,

Unveiling the truth, obscured and revised.

Pre-Chorus:

In sacrilege and ritual, he finds his might,

The Anti-Christ, the bearer of blight.

He orchestrates chaos, with wicked glee,

Unfolding a world devoid of mercy.

Chorus:

Lucifer's reign, upon us falls,

Unholy tempest, as darkness calls.

The Anti-Christ, his venom spreads,

Leading the lost, with twisted threads.

Bridge:

Oh, the faithful lament, as they crumble and fall,

Enslaved to the shepherd, leading them all.

In shadows they gather, bound by his lies,

Enraptured, consumed, as their hope slowly dies.

Solo

Verse 3:

In the depths of his heart, malice breeds,

Betraying salvation, fulfilling dark creeds.

The Anti-Christ revels in his disguise,

A mesmerizing figure, behind blasphemous cries.

Pre-Chorus:

He plots with malevolence, his kingdom unveiled,

A symphony of darkness, where all who doubted are impaled.

In the wake of his arrival, souls shall burn,

As the Anti-Christ descends, all innocence spurned.

Chorus:

Lucifer's reign, upon us falls,

Unholy tempest, as darkness calls.

The Anti-Christ, his venom spreads,

Leading the lost, with twisted threads.

Outro:

Beware the whispers, the serpent's tongue,

For in Lucifer's reign, salvation comes undone.

The Anti-Christ's symphony, a clarion call,

An era of darkness, where angels fall.

Dawn Of the New

In the depths of shadows, where darkness roams

A celestial whisper, a harbinger unknown

From the ethereal abyss, a new age dawn

Unveiling mysteries as the light decays and is gone.

Beneath the smouldering moon, the serpent coils

Its serenade of venom, reviving ancient soils

The day's demise, a nocturnal command

Awaken the fallen souls from the eternal stand.

(Chorus)

Dawn of the new, arise from the depths.

The serpents entwined, as darkness resurrects.

A spiritual awakening, a phantasmal embrace

The rituals begin, in this newfound space.

Revel in the shadows, beyond the mortal's sight

In the realm of the enigma, darkness ignites.

With chants and incantations, a sacred rite

We summon the dawn of new celestial might.

Oh, the spectral figures dance as the night prevails.

Cloaked in obsidian robes, where silence hails

Phantasmagoric specters, spirits of the lost

Guiding us through the ancient paths that tempests have crossed.

(Chorus)

Dawn of the new, arise from the depths.

The serpents entwined, as darkness resurrects.

A spiritual awakening, a phantasmal embrace

The rituals begin, in this newfound space.

So, let the unholy congregation sing.

In unison we commune, souls set to take wing.

Through the arcane hymns, a doorway shall arise.

To the realm of the serpent's dawn, where evil never dies.

(Bridge)

Enshrouded in this mystic mist, we seek the divine

Anointed by the shadows, transcending mortal confines.

Embrace the serpentine whispers, let them guide the way.

To a realm beyond the stars, where darkness forever plays.

(Chorus)

Dawn of the new, arise from the depths.

The serpents entwined, as darkness resurrects.

A spiritual awakening, a phantasmal embrace

The rituals begin, in this newfound space.

With the rise of a new dawn, the serpent's kingdom reborn

Unveiling the mysteries that the light has always scorned.

So, join the ghostly congregation, as we serenade the night.

Embracing the dawn of the new, forever in our sight

Secret Info: Papa V has found many songs her Zio Copia wrote. As he was the one to really raise her, she keeps these faded pieces of parchment and reads them over singing them in different ways. Most of the songs are about grief or regret of losing Terzo and his other Fratellos.

Sei never knew her Zio Primo or Secondo, and only ever heard about them in passing. She was also mainly raised by her Zio Copia, due to Terzo being seen as reckless and unfit. If he been careful, she would not have even been born, as she was the result of a drunken orgy that the Clergy (aka Terzo) held monthly.

#ghost band oc #ghost band papa oc #Papa V #Papa Emeritus V #Sei Emeritus #This took so long #but i have laptop now

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impulsivemuses · 9 months ago

Text

"As yours looks as cold as a comforting winter, I must say." She wasn't one to deny a compliment from a stranger, one who looked so elegant and yet... curvaceous in her own right. Mary couldn't help from across the room that Frost had this... attire that Mary wished she could've had, but she planned to make an amend of.

"The horns aren't for show I promise, though you wouldn't want to find out how bad they can get when I get pissed off." The last time she EVER had to use that form is when she found out Judas was killed by the civilians after they had witnessed JC being executed themselves. So, her horns could grow up to at least 4-5 inches longer then her normal state.

"I see you picked an EXCELLENT outfit to wear here. People are going to be eyeing that sexy strut of yours." Can't be Mary without her own flirtatious comment.

her eyes drifted up and down the rather busty goat with a hand on her own cheek. Was she a Demon? Of course she'd studied many books about such beings though, had never actually met one. It was certainly interesting and she was clearly eyeing the taller woman up and down.

" Your fur is quite eye-catching... though are those horns just for decoration? "

her ear flicked as she became quite intrigued by the goat

" Your Aura--- My i imagine you have quite the story.. don't you "

@impulsivemuses

#MARY AND FROST WOULD SO GET ALONG IN A WAY BECUASE MARY WANTS TO BE LIKE HER NOW #she's about to run a errand to hell for some... special attires~#IC.#DEVILISH DESIRE (MARY)#atangledfate #monsterhouseparty

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supernaturalgirl20 · 2 years ago

Text

Realisation

Pairings: Marcus Pike x f!reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, explicit, unprotected sex, PinV sex, fingering, cursing, jealousy, angsty, mention of fertility issues, mentions of separation.

Summary: you and Marcus join his family for dinner but he can’t seem to keep his hands off you. Theresa also pushes Marcus to the limit and that fiery temper makes a reappearance.

Series Masterlist

A/N: ahhh nearly there…only one more part to go 😊ok so some people have asked me to keep the Taglist going so I will do it for another little while 😜

Comments and reblogs really appreciated 🥰

You could sense him behind you - his warmth permeating your skin - and a smile slowly edged its way onto your face as his arms wrapped around you.

“You look beautiful, baby,” he whispers into the skin of your neck as he peppers kisses there. His hand begins to wander and his fingers play with the hem of your white dress.

“Think we could skip dinner and just stay here, maybe test out the strength of that hanging chair mom bought in the study?” Marcus asks as he gazes at you in the mirror, eyes glazed over with lust.

Turning in his arms, you move your hand along his chest and up his neck before running your fingers through his hair. His eyes close as he releases a contented sigh. “I think your mom would kill us if we missed dinner. Maybe we could hang back tomorrow when they all go to church, test it out then?”

His eyes shoot open and for a moment he just stares at you. “God you’re fucking perfect, baby. I love you.”

“Love you too. Now,” you say as you run your hands down along the lapels of his blazer, “we better get going before they send out a search party.” Marcus leans in and captures your lips in a searing kiss before pulling away and leading you out of the room and down the stairs to join everyone else.

***

Marcus holds open the door to the restaurant as he guides you inside, his hand resting comfortably on your lower back and when you glance up at him you find him already staring at you with a smile on his face.

Mary had reserved an area at the back of the restaurant and when you both reach the table you see that some family friends have been invited too. You spot Theresa in the corner, a wicked smile on her face and an uneasy feeling settles in your stomach.

You’ve never liked her.

There was always something off about her and it didn’t help that she had an unwavering attraction to Marcus.

Settling into your chair you smile at Marcus as he pours you a glass of red, taking a sip of the smooth aromatic drink. His hand rests atop your thigh, his fingers tracing patterns into your skin and you can’t help the shiver that runs through you.

Your heartbeat is thrumming beneath your skin, your cunt pulsating with desire and you want nothing more than for Marcus to move his fingers to where you desperately need them.

As if he can sense what’s on your mind, he turns away from his brother James and looks at you through hooded eyes. He has a devilish glint in his eyes and a sly smirk slowly edges its way onto his face.

“Everything ok, baby?” He asks teasingly.

“Yep,” you stammer as you pull your bottom lip between your teeth. His eyebrow is raised in question but his fingers slowly move beneath the hem of your dress, forging a trail up along your thigh and towards your heat.

His fingers move your underwear aside and run along your slick and you try so desperately not to moan. You glance quickly around the table and everyone seems to be engrossed in their own conversations. Thank god, you think to yourself before you jump slightly, the feel of his thick fingers slowly pushing their way inside you.

“If you keep quiet baby, I’ll fuck you good and hard later just how you like,” he whispers as he leans into you.

His fingers work in and out of you slowly as his thumb circles your swollen bud. You can feel your release working its way towards the edge and when he curls his finger and presses your clit hard you clench around his thick digits.

You bite into your lips harder and you think you’ve drawn blood but you don’t care, you feel amazing. Marcus winks at you, leaning in and kissing you softly before pulling his fingers from your heat.

He brings them to his mouth and licks them clean, a soft groan slipping from his lips. “Someone’s enjoying their meal,” Mary says with a smile on her face and you sink back into the chair.

“Absolutely delicious, mom. Best meal I’ve ever had,” Marcus says winking at you before digging into his meal.

***

The food is delicious and dinner passes quickly with everyone having a great time. It’s nice spending time with family and the atmosphere is warm and cheerful but you still can’t shake the uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach.

The faint call of your name draws your attention and you glance across the table to Theresa who is staring at you with a sly smile.

“I was just saying, it’s a shame you and Marcus don’t have any children yet. I mean how long are you two married now? Four, five years? Do you not want any children?”

Your whole body tensed.

A wave of emotion swells up inside you and you can feel the eyes of everyone at the table boring into you. I wish the floor would open and swallow me whole.

Other members of Marcus’s extended family and friends join in, asking when you plan to have a family, how you would both make great parents and it all just becomes too much.

Marcus gives your thigh a squeeze, a silent reassurance that he’s got you before he looks sternly across at Theresa.

“Unfortunately for you Theresa, what happens in our marriage is none of your concern. Myself and Y/N are happy and that’s all that matters. If and when we decide to have a family is between us, no one else so I’ll ask kindly that you mind your own business.”

“I was just curious is all. When we were growing up you always talked about having your own family so I assume it’s Y/N who doesn’t want any. I’m pretty sure that grounds for annulment,” Theresa says, eyes shifting around the table searching for someone to back her up.

Your eyes are closed now and you are trying so fucking hard not to cry. What makes it worse is that she's right. Marcus has always been excited about having a family and what if you are the problem. What then?

You push your chair back and grab your purse before rushing towards the bathroom.

Marcus is standing now and his gaze stays with you until you're out of sight before he turns to Theresa. “You fucking bitch. How dare you. You’re nothing but a cheap whore who can’t shut her mouth. And you’re fucking delusional, because even though I’ve turned you down countless times, you still won’t get the message. I don’t want you. Never have. Never will. Y/N is my wife and the love of my life. It’s gonna be me and her forever, so back the fuck off.”

Theresa gasps and feigns insult, before standing and pointing her finger at him but before she can get a word out of her mouth, John stands with a shout.

“Theresa, I think you’ve said enough. Joanne, you are a dear friend of the family but if you don’t leave right now and take your daughter with you, I’ll be forced to do something I’m gonna regret.” His tone is harsh and his face is stern but they get the message and leave quickly.

He turns his gaze to Marcus, “go to her son. See if she’s ok.” Marcus nods his head before rushing after you.

***

A knock on the door startles you and you quickly wipe the tears from your eyes before touching up your makeup. “Baby, it’s me,”

Marcus whispers softly through the door and you release a shuddered breath before closing your eyes and counting to ten.

With a deep inhale you calm yourself before reaching for the door handle and slowly opening it. Marcus pushes his way in and locks the door behind him, then turns to face you.

His eyes take you in before meeting your gaze, eyes full of sympathy, full of love. “I’m so sorry about her, baby. She should never have been invited but I promise this was the last time that she will ever be around us.”

“It’s fine,” you murmur as you let your gaze wander to the floor. “It’s not fine,” Marcus growled as he reached out a hand and caressed your cheek.

“That bitch doesn’t know what she’s talking about, ok?” He slides his hand under your chin and tilts your head slightly, your eyes meeting his.

“She’s right though. I’m the reason you don’t have a family. I’m broken,” you said with a strangled sob.

“Baby, we’ve been over this. The only family I need is you. That’s it.”

“But - but what if it isn’t enough and then you resent me, I….” You whimper as tears begin to streak across your face.

“God, you infuriate me baby. Yes, you’re a pain in the ass and you drive me absolutely fucking crazy half the time but I won’t ever resent you. I love you. You’re smart, funny, crazy talented at your job and so fucking beautiful, even more so because you don’t actually think so. I’m sorry for every mistake I’ve made, for every harsh thing I’ve ever said, for every time I’ve ignored our problems and let you deal with them on your own. I'm sorry for ever making you think this is your fault. It isn’t. Hell, I might be the reason we can’t get pregnant.”

His hands cup your cheeks as he stares down at you. “I love you. I’ve loved you from our first date and I’m gonna love you until my last breath.”

“Marcus,” you stutter. He pulls you closer towards him placing a hand at the back of your neck, the other grips your waist tight. “I’m so fucking sorry, baby. You are the most important thing to me, I just forgot to show you how much. I forgot to just love you. I won’t make that mistake again.” His breathing is ragged as he finishes his speech, his thumb rubbing along the skin of your cheek.

You take in a shuddered breath as you stare into his eyes. Those beautiful whiskey coloured orbs and you simply nod as a watery smile spreads across your face. “I’ve only ever wanted you, Marcus. Just you.”

He smiles brightly, “yeah?” He asks, his eyes darting between yours.

“Yeah.” He leans in and kisses you passionately, his arms moving along your waist to wrap around you, pulling you into him. A moan escapes your lips at the feel of his hardened length against you.

“Fuck baby. I need you,” he breathes out as his hands grab at your ass. “Can I have you? Right here, baby?”

Words escape you, the burning desire coursing through your veins invading your senses. Marcus wastes no time in turning you around and pushing you against the sink. He angles your hips just right and his hand moves under your dress finding your underwear and ripping them off.

“Gonna fuck you now baby, ok?” He whispers into the skin of your neck.

“Do it. Wanna feel you Marcus, please!” You beg.

He groans into your shoulder as he lines up at your entrance and thrusts up into you. You both moan as you stretch to accommodate him. His pace is brutal. His rough hands grip your waist tight as he fucks the frustration away and you are loving it. You love when he gets like this; completely feral.

“Oh fuck! Marcus…oh god..” you moan loudly. He reaches around and tilts your head so you can see yourselves in the mirror. “Want you to watch me fuck you baby. Wanna see your face when you come.”

His hand snakes down to your clit, rubbing over your swollen bud as he continues to fuck into you. He knows your close - so is he - but he wants to see you come undone first.

“Oh…oh fuck…fuck Marcus I’m….I’m gonna…” you stutter as you teeter along the edge.

He bites into your shoulder, “come on baby, come all over my cock. Wanna feel you.” You come completely undone as your cunt pulses around him. He grunts loudly into your ear as he finishes inside you.

You both just stay like that for a moment, his gaze locked on you in the mirror. “I love you, baby. And I promise you that we’ll get through this together.”

“Together,” you whisper as you tilt your head to kiss him softly. Pulling away, he helps fix you up as he readjusts himself. He kisses you passionately before pulling back and leaning into your ear. “Wanna skip that show and test out that hanging chair?”

“Hell yes. Lead the way, baby,” you purred as you laced your fingers with his. All doubts and insecurities fade as you leave the restaurant. Fuck Theresa Lisbon, you think to yourself as Marcus wraps his arm around you, pulling you close as he hails a cab.

***

Marcus had texted his mom and apologised for leaving but she was having none of it. Messaging back to say that we didn’t have to apologise and to enjoy some time alone.

Which you did.

Many times. And the hanging chair in the study was definitely sturdy.

The following morning, a gentle knock on the bedroom door startled you awake and Marcus groaned tiredly as he shuffled from bed and opened it.

“Mom?” What are you…” Mary pushes her way inside carrying a tray of breakfast, setting it on the bedside locker before sitting at the end of the bed.

You look at Marcus, perplexed as to what she wants but he just closes the door and shrugs his shoulders.

Mary waits until he’s slid back under the duvet and pulled you close before she begins to speak. “I know,” she states as she glances between you both.

“Know what?” Marcus asks nervously, his hand squeezing you slightly. She gives him an incredulous look before rolling her eyes.

“I know that you two were separating. No one said anything before you ask but - a mother always knows. Besides, you two were at each other's throats from the minute you both arrived. Wasn’t hard to put together.” She sighs, her gaze drifting to the sheets bundled in her hands before it meets you both again.

“I’m assuming, from last night, it has something to do with having a baby.” Marcus looks down at you before meeting his mothers gaze and nodding.

“Look, I’m no expert but I have had three children so I know something about it at least. People always assume that when they want to have a baby that all they have to do is have sex without protection and boom, pregnant. That’s not always the case. I didn’t get pregnant with Laura until a year after me and your dad started trying.” Marcus’s face tinges pink at the mention of his parents getting down to business and you can’t help the giggle that escapes your lips.

“Then we had James but that took some months too. With you Marcus, we weren’t even really trying and I got pregnant straight away. What I’m trying to say is that good things take time. Sometimes longer than we expect and sometimes it never happens at all. And that’s ok too. There are other ways to have a baby. All that really matters is that you both love each other.”

She reaches for Marcus’s hand, then yours and she looks between you both with a smile on her face. “It will happen when the time is right and if it doesn’t, you still have each other.”

Marcus looks to you then and smiles, those brown eyes full of love and affection and you know that everything will be alright.

“Ok, I’ll leave you two alone. Take your time and enjoy breakfast.”

“Thanks mom.” Mary winks at you both before closing the door behind her, leaving you alone. “I think she’s right. Maybe we shouldn’t put too much pressure on ourselves and just focus on getting back to where we were as a couple.” Marcus says softly, his thumb rubbing into your hand.

“I agree. Maybe we should go to therapy too, just to - ya know.” Marcus nods his head as he leans in and presses his lips to yours softly. Pulling away he rests his forehead against yours, “let’s just enjoy the next few days and go from there.”

“I love you Marcus.”

“I love you too, baby.”

Part 6

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