#I was a very silly child and being used to pew pew and bright lights games completely fried my brain when I came across sotc

[icology]

(turns out the uni thing I had to take care of today ended up not happening because of the usual bureaucracies SO,,, doing the 30 day challenge to destress)

Team Ico 30 Day Challenge // Day 1 : Which game is your favorite and why?

My favorite game so far is Shadow of the Colossus without a doubt, though I have a very strong connection with Ico as well, as it was the first one I played.

I feel that to explain why I love it, I have to backtrack to the time it released and tell you the story of how I came across it. Leaving it under the cut because it's super long and I don't wanna put a wall of text on your dashboard, but I SWEAR it's funny!

When shadow released, I was around 10/11 years old, and though I played videogames on a regular basis, being a kid my interests were mostly cute and funny stuff like Crash Bandicoot, Ratchet and Clank, Spyro, etc, etc. You get the deal. It finally releases, and this game is all over the place. It's on gamestop, it's on the cover of gaming magazines, it's everywhere. My brother was beyond excited and somehow managed to convince me to be excited for it too, and we get our hands on the game. Now's the time to mention english isn't my first language, games back then were rarely localized, and us being kids, we didn't even read the description all the way through. I actually think my brother accidentally skipped the intro cutscene because I have zero memory of ever watching it then.

Imagine my shock when I start up the game and there are minimal instructions in a language I know like 3 words in, a dead girl, barren land with no enemies despite there being a weird "monster" on the cover and zero visual cues as to what to do next. I tried all the buttons. I checked the menu for a missions tab. I tried to find anything that would tell me what to do next (yes, I tried the sword. I thought you had to use the light beams to kill something!!!). The only thing I ended up doing was climbing the shrine (I used to call it a "castle") because it was the only thing I could do, and I was 100% convinced that whatever had to be done, had to be atop the shrine because everything else was empty. Needless to say I fell down every single time before I could reach the top because I had no stamina. I DETESTED IT. But, for some reason (or anger. probably anger), I played it almost every single day because it was getting on my nerves how I just couldn't figure that strange game out. It had me right on that instant but I didn’t even realize it.

One day, my dad got so tired of seeing me and my brother aimlessly riding Agro around, he took the controller from us and started playing it himself. I got bored watching him and went to do something else, 5 minutes later I hear screaming from the living room, turns out my dad reached the tutorial area that nor me or my brother bothered to check before, and that's when we realized there WAS something there after all. Then Valus shows up and my dad just says "THERE ARE GIANTS IN THIS GAME???" (I don't think he ever bothered to look at the cover lol). It was like having a collective epiphany. He hands us the controller and after a few tries taking turns we manage to take down the goddamn thing, then the black "tendrils" pierce Wander and we're taken back to the shrine. Me and my brother looked at each other and we went like "that's game over, we did something wrong". I gave up on it and didn't play it until years later in my teens, but I loved Ico growing up (I didn't know they were from the same dev team back then!). Some weeks later I bought the Playstation Magazine and they had an entire section dedicated to the game where they explained how to take down each colossi. I felt really dumb but at that point I was so frustrated that I didn't bother to pick it back up, but I'm sure my brother did at some point.

I finally played it again out of curiosity that never really died down at around 17, after going through all of our old stuff stored away and finding it. I did some research first and spoiled the entire thing for myself while reading about it online, but by then I was finally fluent in english and a lot more experienced, so I was able to clear it with no issue. And I loved it. Throughout my teens I got obsessed with anime and manga, so for years I only played games in that vein, but it was as if correctly replaying shadow had filled a void in my heart I didn't even know I had. It made me get back into the PS classics, and writing, which I hadn't done since I was like 14, and made me see every single piece of media I came in contact with from then on in a completely different light, all because no game or song or movie had ever played into my emotions like that. I had never seen something that broke your heart and mended it immediately after, it reminded me almost of the way your parents scold and teach you a lesson but they do it in a loving way. And in my little writer heart I felt envious. SO ENVIOUS. Because how could someone come up with a story like that and execute it so perfectly? I wanted to do that to people. I wanted to create something that made people feel like it changed them after being in touch with it.

In hindsight, I'm glad I didn't play it all at that age because I just didn't have enough emotional maturity, or age, even, to understand the themes or why it looked the way it looked. I remember seeing the black blood spill all over the place for the first time freaked me out, it reminded me of something closer to horror and gore than of dark fairytales. I know the experience could have been different if I hadn’t spoiled the plot to myself, and that it would have probably hit me a million times harder than it did, but if the story itself hadn’t sparked my interest in the first place, I could have never even touched it again, so I’m even grateful for that as well. I wouldn’t change a thing because that was the way I was supposed to come across it. Around that time I finally found out ico was from the same devs and of course, it all made sense. Then, a new game was on the way, and I ended up staying to see what would come next. No regrets, and I plan on staying for much longer.

Long story short and apologies for the long read: Shadow is my favorite because I hated it, but it’s so good that I ended up loving it.

[tintinwrites]

how could we be wrong? | Priest!Max Phillips x Reader

A/N: Thank you for doing business with the religious trauma hotline, my name’s Caitlin. I’m just calling to confirm your order of a priest kink.

Rating: 18+

Warning: Fem!Reader. Max is a priest. Unprotected P in V sex, in a church, over a pew, while another priest and a parishioner are in the confessional booth. Oral (F receiving). Religious things. Naughty words. A bit of corruption kink. There are so many sins in this that I can’t list them all bc idk what’s bad and what’s not now.

Word count: 4,105, apparently!!

Summary: You go to church to confess your sins, but end up only adding on some more things you’ll need to confess.

GIF credit: thewaythisis

Tags: Love y’all but I cannot CANNOT force my taglist to have a priest kink thrust upon them like this.

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The oak door was heavy as you pulled on the brass handle, but the opening of it led you into a warm, quiet sanctuary.

You supposed there was a metaphor in there; you were out in the cold with a heavy weight, but just beyond that weight was warmth and salvation and peace.

Every pew was empty, bibles and hymnals tucked neatly in the compartments on the back as they waited for mass or for passersby who needed to pray. There were candles lit at the front of the sanctuary despite the lights on overhead, and you inwardly berated yourself for not knowing why they were lit.

You intended to go to the confessional booth to your right, but you paused halfway to it when you saw that there was another person in the sanctuary. They were facing away from you, dressed in all black, but they didn’t have snowy white hair like the priest who you’d seen the times you visited before.

Glancing at the confessional, you decided instead to approach the man.

Perhaps you just hadn’t seen him before and if he was the only priest in the building, going into an empty confessional would be a little silly.

“Father?” you asked cautiously, and the man immediately whipped around to show a face much younger than you were used to, his gaze quickly flickering over you.

“—yes, my...child?” The name was said hesitantly with a slight grimace and you wondered if you interrupted him.

“I’m sorry. I can come back later.” You turned to go, but a hand wrapped around your arm to pull you back.

“No, stay, I was just cleaning.” He held up the dust buster in his free hand, releasing you so he could put it on the altar table. “What do you need? I’m yours.”

He said that simple statement so smoothly as he turned to face you that it made your heart pick up speed just a bit, blinking at him for a moment. “Well, I...came to confess, but I’m not exactly anonymous anymore…”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, slugger!” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders before you could protest, leading you to a pew and sitting down with you, his legs open wide as he relaxed into the wooden seat. “So, come on, what’s the secret, huh? What’d you come to confess?”

“I...I don’t know.” You knew what you came to confess, but you were taken aback by his behavior and how quickly he moved, and mostly just embarrassed to admit such things to a handsome man like him.

“Are you one of those freaks who just came to confess just in case?”

“What? That’s...no.” You were definitely surprised by a man of God talking about the parishioners who came to confess like that. “I just don’t know if I should confess these things outside of the confessional.”

He made a face and waved his hand as if to say it was no big deal. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

There was something charming about how carefree and flippant the man was, but you still hesitated for a second. “I don’t even know who you are, Father.”

“Max Phillips. I just started training here.”

Well, that explained his lack of the professionalism and seriousness you were used to. You opened your mouth to confess since he was a priest or would soon be one, but you shook your head and looked down shyly. “I don’t know…”

A finger under your chin gently nudged your head up until you were looking into Max’s eyes, your heart picking up speed again. “You’re safe with me. Go ahead.”

There was just something about him that made you feel all warm inside, and you nodded for so long it was almost stupid before you remembered that you were supposed to be confessing.

“I’ve been having a lot of impure thoughts lately. It just seems like everything is driving me crazy and then I…” You faltered as the real thing you wanted to confess to danced on the tip of your tongue.

Max had been looking at the way your dress hugged your tits as he listened, raising his eyes to your face when you stopped. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re very young to be a priest.” You started to turn away because talking about something like this to a man who looked like that was not stopping your thoughts from heading in the direction they tended to lately. “And you’re different. Shouldn’t we be in the confessional?”

“Hey, listen, how about we...make a deal? You confess, and I can tell you how I ended up here.” He just really wanted to know what had you so ashamed like this, what could possibly make you squirm like you were right then.

You considered it for a second before nodding, taking a deep breath. “I’ve been masturbating. I start thinking, and then I start feeling these sensations, and before I know it, I’m touching myself.”

He nodded along in understanding like the thought of you touching yourself didn’t make his pants a little tighter. “I see.”

“I know it’s wrong.” You dropped your head into your hands, but were only able to wallow for a few seconds. The priest grabbed onto your hands and grasped them in his supportively, making you look up at him.

“You wanna hear why I became a priest?” He smiled at your slight nod. “I was always a little bit of a...troublemaker. But I guess the last time was just the straw that broke the camel’s back for my parents…”

“What did you do?” you asked with concern; the way he sighed made it seem like he did something terrible, like hurt someone or do some kind of dangerous drug.

“See, there was this girl I liked. I invited her over to my house.” He knew exactly what he was doing with this story, noting every little hint of your untapped desire in the way you leaned closer and your blinking slowed. “When my parents walked in to find me with my head under her skirt, slowly thrusting my tongue in and out of her, I guess it was too much.”

His words dripped with sensuality and you would have fallen right off the pew were it not for your grip tightening on his hands. He was so beautiful. You pressed your thighs together and just stared at him, your lips parting slightly like you wanted to say something or maybe even kiss him.

But then he leaned back and shrugged, going right back to his previous nonchalance. “So they sent me to seminary a few years ago and I was just accepted by this church.”

“Oh.” You nodded, trying to pretend that his story hadn’t affected you that much. It seemed like he was just telling a story and your horny brain had just read too much into it.

“You know sexuality isn’t bad, right? Rubbing one out is a biological response to release a little...tension.” He released your hands to break contact with you, noticing the way you fell forward just a little as he leaned against the back of the pew.

“The bible says—”

“The bible’s been translated a billion times and taken out of context a billion more. Trust me, there’s nothing wrong with releasing a little tension.” He tilted his head, pursing his lips as he decided to push you a bit. “There’s nothing wrong with you being turned on by the idea of me putting my head under your dress right now.”

You were nodding along as you considered his words, but then your eyes nearly doubled in size at his comment. “I—I don’t—”

“Now lying is a sin.” He reached out to tap you on the nose which made you blink rapidly in confusion. “Look at how tense you are. You’ve been denying yourself, haven’t you?”

“Well...I didn’t think it was right…” You were uncomfortable; not because he was upsetting you, but because you had been denying yourself and you were so turned on by his words that you wanted to do the very thing you came to confess.

“Why don’t you show me how you touch yourself?” He decided to be blunt. You seemed to enjoy it when he was.

“What? Me? Here?” Your reaction was almost comical, but his words still sent a jolt directly to your clit.

“Touch yourself. Yes, you. Right here.” He leaned forward to gently grasp your hand again, running his thumb along the back of it. “I’m a man of God. You’re safe with me if you need to release a little tension. I won’t tell a soul.”

“I…” You wet your lips, pressing your thighs even tighter together.

He kept his eyes on yours as he slowly guided your hand to the hem of your dress, pausing to see if you would stop him or protest. When you didn’t, he helped you pull the fabric up your thighs, glancing down when he saw a glimpse of bright fabric. “Blue lace, huh? I like it.”

All you did was stare into his eyes, letting him maneuver your hand underneath the practically sheer fabric. He pulled his hand out and just laid it on top of yours through the lace.

“Tell me your name.” He waited for you to stutter it out before repeating it, wrapping his lips around it sensually in a way no one ever had before. “I could moan that. Fuck, I’d like to hear you moan my name like a prayer.”

You couldn’t help yourself as your eyes fluttered shut and you began stroking over your clit, giving into the sensation that was begging you to touch yourself.

Max just kept his hand on top of yours, letting them move together, his eye flickering between your face and what you were doing between your legs. “Isn’t that better? What are you thinking about?”

“Your tongue.” You were too turned on to care, letting out a little moan when you opened your eyes and saw the way he was staring at you.

“And I didn’t even tell you the whole story!” He laughed, bringing his free hand down to playfully slap your thigh. “I bet you’d like to know what I did when my parents and their friends walked in, huh? Go ahead, ask me.”

“What did...what did you do?” You tried your best to focus on him, now letting him control the movements of your hand through your panties.

He shifted a bit so he could lean in closer to you, his eyes roaming from your face, down your neck, over your breasts, until they landed between your legs. “I fucked my tongue into her until she came all over herself in front of everyone.”

The whine you let out was exactly what he wanted and he chuckled when you tried to move your hand faster than he was allowing.

“Patience is a virtue. Do you want to feel my tongue?” He raised an eyebrow when you didn’t answer him at first, making you grind your fingers against your clit a little harder. “It’s okay to say yes.”

“Yes,” you gasped out and he smirked, pulling his hand away and taking hold of your wrist to make you stop touching yourself.

“Now, I know you learned patience. You’re such a stickler for rules, aren’t you?” He pulled your hand up to kiss your glistening fingers, letting his tongue poke out to kitten lick them every so often. “I want you to stand up for me. Take off your panties, go up and put them on the altar, then come back here. You’re gonna stand in front of me and take off your dress.”

Your chest was rising and falling slowly from your deep, steady breaths. You’d come to confess your sins, but it didn’t feel like a sin as you stood up and stepped out of your underwear.

You didn’t even realize how easily you were doing it until you’d approached the altar and set the bit of lace on it, turning around to make your way back to Max.

He was leaning back in the pew with his legs open wide, the bulge in his pants obvious when you came to practically stand between his knees.

You hesitated when your fingers came to the hem of your dress, realizing that you were going to be naked in front of this practical stranger in the middle of a church. It was both enticing and terrifying.

“Let me see. I’ve been staring at your tits since you walked in anyway.” He said it so casually it was somehow almost sexier than if he’d been flirtatious.

Hesitating for just a moment longer, you pulled your dress off before you could convince yourself not to, leaving yourself entirely bare. Max’s eyes darkened as he slowly looked over every visible inch of you.

You grew nervous when he didn’t say anything, shifting on your feet and biting your lip as you stared at the floor.

When he was still silent, you slowly looked up at him, fearing a look of disgust.

But you found him staring right at you with eyes full of lust and he slowly said, “I’d abandon the church for that.”

“Oh.” You didn’t know what to say to something like that, just letting out a shaky breath as you felt yourself grow wetter.

“Sit down. Open your legs wide.” He stood up, waiting for you to take his place on the pew before he knelt between your legs. “Has anyone ever done this before?”

“No, Father. I only had sex once, when I was a teenager...and it wasn’t really good.” Your answer seemed to please him, but he didn’t comment on it.

“Call me Max,” he said simply, then leaned forward and started running his tongue along your folds.

Just feeling his tongue between your legs had you squirming and gasping, but he wasn’t paying attention to your clit yet. He’d dip his tongue right near it before skipping over it, pressing teasing little kisses against you.

Having never been eaten out before, you didn’t think to rush him or beg him; you were oversensitized from a lack of proper touch, so this was doing a lot for you.

He decided to be nice mostly for the purpose of rocking your world, and he started to flick at your clit with the tip of his tongue.

That had your hips lifting off the pew, a cry leaving your lips as he started tracing little circles over the sensitive area. “Oh, fuck, Max…”

He took hold of your thighs to pin you back down to the seat, pressing his tongue flat against you and dragging it slowly up over your clit. The movement had your jaw dropping open in pure ecstasy and the ensuing vibrations from his soft chuckle made you release a moan.

You’d never felt anything so amazing in your entire life even when you would give in and touch yourself, and you couldn’t believe how long you’d gone without feeling something this wonderful.

“Would you use your tongue inside me? Like the girl?” Your request earned you another slap to the thigh as Max pulled away, his lips shining.

“I gotta say, you know your manners!” He grinned, keeping his eyes on you as he leaned down and slowly began fucking into you with his tongue.

You were silent at first as the new sensation took over, before you let out a whine and started breathing a little shakily. “Oh, God!”

Max mumbled a reminder of what you could call him into your cunt, thrusting his tongue a little faster and nudging his nose against your clit.

He kept going at it until he felt your walls starting to flutter around his tongue and he pulled back, smirking at the almost hurt look on your face.

“You wanna see what good sex is like?” He cupped your face when you nodded, moving to kiss you passionately.

You kissed him back eagerly and stared at him dreamily as he pulled you to your feet, letting him turn you around. He guided you to bend over with your hands gripping the back of the pew, seeing that you were steady before he pulled back to admire your ass.

He ran a hand over the soft skin, undoing his pants with the other as he kept trailing down until he was stroking through your slit. “It hurt the first time, huh?”

“Yeah, and he...released his seed after a couple thrusts then left…” You admitted this with a bit of shame, pressing your fingers into the wood.

“Came. He came after a couple thrusts.” Your gentle way of putting it made him smirk, but he let out a moan when he pressed his tip to your wet folds. “This one’s not gonna hurt and you can bet your sweet ass that you’re gonna come first.”

“He came,” you repeated, eyes fluttering shut with a moan at the feeling of him starting to push into you; there was some pressure, but he was right about it not hurting like the other time.

“God, you’re tight…” He practically growled, going slow so you could adjust to the way he was stretching you open.

You folded your arms on the back of the pew and laid your head on them, breathing deeply as he pushed himself inside you as far as he could. He moved one hand to your right hip and the other stroked up your back.

“How’s that?” Your answer was a pitiful, little groan so he thrust his hips a little. “Come on. Use your words.”

“Good, but I feel like I want you to move…” It was so nice to feel full and you wanted friction to go with it.

“Then get back up.”

You forced yourself back up onto your hands and turned your head to look at him over your shoulder.

He raised an eyebrow, watching your eyes darken as he pulled out before quickly thrusting back into you. It was hard enough that you let out a yelp and were rocked forward a bit, having to tighten your grip on the pew so you didn’t face plant on it.

“Oh, God!” You cried, arching back into him.

“Okay, fine, you can call me that and Max.” He rolled his eyes playfully as he found a steady pace against you, loving the way you practically bounced with each thrust.

You were too gone to even acknowledge what he said, and he really didn’t mind since that meant he was turning you on. He slid a hand underneath you so he could rub at your clit, angling his thrusts to stroke over your G spot.

He was trying to keep it together, but you were sexy, and so wet, and so fucking into it that he couldn’t help the noises you were pulling out of him; every whine, every moan, was worth being able to fuck into your tight, wet pussy in the middle of the fucking church.

He could feel your walls fluttering around his cock already since you were so wound up in general and worked up from his mouth, and like hell he was gonna deny you this time.

The thought of you squeezing down on his cock encouraged him to move faster, the sound of his hips slapping into your ass echoing through the sanctuary.

“Max! I’m—I’m—” Your orgasm was too powerful for you to even warn him about, only able to let out a cry as you clenched tight around him.

“Holy shit.” He hissed at the way your cunt gripped him like a fucking vice, the way he felt you squirt all over yourself and his dick.

He could feel it dripping down your thighs and his, spurring him on further as he easily thrust into you.

The sound of your wet cunt filling the room was even better and he let himself get completely lost in you, grunting and whining at how good you felt.

“Oh, God. Oh, God!” Maybe he was doing that part a bit on purpose, but he had no choice but to let his hips lose their rhythm as he just focused on seeking out his orgasm. “Fuck. Tell me where to come, now.”

You didn’t answer at first as you were still coming down from your orgasm. He quickly started rubbing your sensitive clit again to grab your attention and you gasped, “Inside me, please.”

He wanted to fall to his knees and fucking worship you for that, leaning down to press a kiss between your shoulder blades before he stood up to drive into you desperately. It only took a few more thrusts before he was shoving himself into you as deeply as he could, letting out a loud, long groan as he spilled his load into you.

The two of you stayed like that for a second, both panting, both with your eyes shut tightly.

But Max still wanted to fall to his knees in worship.

He regrettably pulled out of you and moved to kneel down, holding onto your ass to keep you still as he leaned in, immediately lapping the mixture of his and your cum from your cunt.

You let out a whimper so pretty that he could’ve gotten hard again if it was possible. He just focused on cleaning you up with his tongue, licking into your cunt until he was satisfied with his work.

He enjoyed a good eyeful of your pussy and ass and decided he wanted to inspect you more in the future, moving to his feet.

“Your sins are absolved.” His words were followed by a slap to your ass before he tucked himself back into his pants.

You moaned and stood up fully, turning to see that he was holding your dress out to you. Part of you wanted to ask if that was it, craving more despite how much he’d just offered you, but you stayed silent and put your dress back on.

You walked up to the altar when he just stared at you, grabbing your panties off and moving to step into them. There was a tap on your shoulder before you could and you turned to face Max, who was now holding a collection plate and grinning mischievously.

“We’re collecting if you want to help the church. I, for one, would love to put those on my face later and jack off.”

You gaped at him for a moment before slowly smiling and laughing softly, dropping the lace into the collection plate. “I should probably go…”

He nodded, but put his free hand on the side of your face and guided you into a deep kiss, licking into your mouth with remnants of cum on his tongue. It made you moan and he was honestly fucking surprised you didn’t have your own cult of people begging to have you.

“Come back. Just ask for me.” He smirked at your dazed nod and kissed you again before slapping your ass, nudging you up the aisle.

You walked to the door with a bit of a gap between your thighs, finding that the door didn’t seem as heavy as before. You glanced at him over your shoulder before walking out and letting the oak shut behind you.

Max just smirked to himself and chuckled, both satisfied and proud. He looked to the side of the room when he heard a creak, smile not faltering in the slightest even as an older, enraged-looking priest stepped out of the confessional booth. “Hey, pops.”

“Father Phillips, this is unacceptable.” He was red in the face from anger or perhaps something else.

“Is that a crucifix in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” Max’s jovial expression did twitch a little bit when the priest let out a growl, and he slowly slid back a step and took your underwear out of the collection plate. “She needed me, buddy! What was I supposed to do, let her walk around all wound up?”

“You weren’t supposed to fornicate with a parishioner in the middle of the fuck—” He immediately stopped his crass words when the other side of the confessional opened and out stepped a small, elderly woman.

Max had honestly forgotten she was in there, but raised his eyebrows in surprise when he noticed the way she was eyeing him.

It was probably the wink he sent her that took him from probably exiled to definitely exiled, based on the way the head priest cried,

“Get out!”

[polishksiezniczka]

Monsignor | Camerlengo Patrick McKenna x Reader

You meet il camerlengo for the first time at Mass, and he soon becomes captivated by you.

My first full-length oneshot! Sort of a slow burn but with some delicious fluff at the end. Please let me know if you have any requests or ideas for future works! 1.8k words

You had recently moved to Rome, your next diplomatic assignment being the US Embassy to the Holy See. The new challenges of your position were taxing, but you were proud of the work you did for your fellow citizens.

Being the good Catholic you were, you went to Mass as often as you could. And when in Rome—which boasted more than 900 churches—it was your goal to visit as many as you could. Although you had been living in the city for only a week or two, you had visited several parishes closer to your apartment to see if one appealed to you.

Today you decided to go to St. Peter’s Basilica for early morning service, hoping the crowds wouldn’t be as large. Aware of the Vatican’s strict dress code, you decided on a lovely vintage chiffon dress you had recently scored at a chic consignment shop. Its light coral color brought out the Y/E/C hues in your eyes, and it elegantly graced your figure while still leaving much up to the imagination. You paired it with sensible pumps and a loose white cardigan. You were feeling springlike today, it being a warm Sunday in April.

While you had visited the Vatican several times already on official diplomatic visits, you hadn’t yet as one of the faithful. As you silently made your way to the chapel, you marveled at the beautiful art surrounding you—the work of masters.

You chose to sit near the center aisle a few rows from the altar. The chapel quickly began to fill up; in a matter of minutes, you were surrounded by a trio of devout Italian nonne, clad in all-black, and a gaggle of starry-eyed Korean tourists.

As the processional music began, you felt your body ease into a state of peace. The ancient rituals of the Church always soothed you; they had not changed since you were a child and so provided a sense of comfort amidst an unpredictable world. You sang along, losing yourself in the beautiful melody.

When the hymnal ended, you lifted your gaze from your songbook to the altar. Your heart stopped as your eyes fell upon him—quite possibly the most beautiful man you had ever laid eyes on.

He was young, no more than 40 years of age. His hair was a rich auburn color, swept neatly into a well-groomed combover; you couldn’t help but admire how perfectly it framed his handsome face. His eyes, a lovely shade of blue, were mesmerizing. They reminded you of cerulean pools, clear and bright. His brows were furrowed in concentration, making him appear serious. His jawline was set in a strong, dignified way, sloping attractively down to his chin; there you could just make out a slight cleft. For all you knew, he was one of the marble statues carved by the same masters who had designed the basilica you were standing in.

Who was this man? That’s Father to you! you scolded yourself. You were in Church. And not just any Church—the Church! You tried to suppress your nascent infatuation, but you quickly succumbed to it, your eyes selfishly dragging down the rest of the priest’s body. He wore a white surplice over his black robes, highlighting the alluring musculature of his shoulders. His collar was a burst of white at the base of the column of his throat. His hands were clasped together in prayer in front of his chest, and you watched his eyes squeeze in concentration as he prayed along silently with the cardinal who stood beside him. His whole demeanor radiated safety, comfort, and protection.

You couldn’t help but stare, the chants of the prayer fading into the background. You couldn’t even look away. Even when he turned to look at you. You observed his eyes widening ever so slightly, his brow arching in curiosity. Regrettably, he seemed to catch himself after a few seconds, quickly averting his eyes away from you and back to his superior. The moment was so brief, you seriously doubted its authenticity. But there he was.

Mass passed by in a haze, your attempts at concentration all but shot. You tried to restrain yourself, but somehow your gaze always settled on him. It wasn’t until the pews ahead of you began to slowly shuffle toward for Communion that you momentarily became sensible again. As you stood and made your way toward the altar, your hands began to perspire. You ran through the expected response over and over again, worried you might choke on your own heart, which had invariably lodged itself in your throat.

Just as you had expected, he was even more beautiful up close. Like an angel. You were so taken by his handsomeness, his kind smile, his spellbinding eyes that you felt your chest tighten. Your eyes suddenly found the marble floor inexplicably fascinating.

He held up the thin wafer. “Il corpo di Cristo.”

You peered up at him from beneath your lashes and met his kind cerulean eyes again. They beamed down at you, joy and curiosity radiating from them. You quickly lost your ability to speak, momentarily dumbstruck. He must have sensed this, as a smile quirked the corner of his lips; you thought you were imagining things when the faintest chuckle reached your ears. If only you knew what he was thinking!

“Amen,” you whispered hurriedly, accepting the wafer in your trembling hands. You bowed to him and quickly stepped aside to genuflect before the altar. As you made your way to back to your pew, you couldn’t help but sneak a glance over your shoulder at him. As you expected, he was dutifully administering communion to the remaining parishioners. You sighed softly as you retook your place and knelt down.

Of course that’s what he’s doing! you scolded yourself. For the love of God, he’s a priest—why would he have feelings for you? Silly, foolish girl.

Your thoughts consumed you for the rest of Mass, even during the last processional hymnal. If only you had noticed the young priest’s longing glance at you as he walked past.

After the processional ended, you prepared to leave, but your shame got the best of you. As a penance you knelt and said five Hail Mary’s to atone for your distraction.

As you left your pew, you noticed how quiet the church had become. A few people remained, some finishing their prayers, others snapping pictures of the ornate altar. As you walked to the back of the chapel, you observed a small group of parishioners clustered near the back, no doubt socializing among themselves. You had planned to walk around them, but the group suddenly parted, putting you directly on course for him. The priest who had awoken in you a reaction so powerful, so complete, you couldn’t even think clearly.

The two parishioners he was speaking with said their farewells; then, he turned and noticed you. As your eyes met for the third time that morning, his face broke into a radiant smile. You approached him slowly, a blush creeping up your cheeks. You did your best to hold his gaze and maintain an air of confidence after your embarrassing conduct during the liturgy of the Eucharist. You stopped just short of a foot away from him, subconsciously holding your breath.

“Buongiorno, signorina,” he said. His voice was so velvety, so delightful, it practically overwhelmed your senses. Being so close allowed you to better study his chin’s adorable cleft, making you swoon. “Non ti ho mai visto prima a San Pietro. Stai visitando la nostra bellissima basilica mentre sei in vacanza?” His presence was oh so alluring—you couldn’t help but relax as air suddenly filled your lungs.

“Buongiorno, monsignor,” you replied carefully. “ No, ma sono nuovo a Roma. Vedi, mi sono trasferito qui due settimane fa. Lavoro per l'ambasciata degli Stati Uniti.”

He smiled knowingly, his eyes alight with intrigue. “So, you are an American?” The soft, gentle lilt of his accent sent a shiver up your spine. How was it possible that this man’s normal pleasantries were enough to provoke such a response in you?

“Yes, I am.”

“In that case, may I be the first to welcome you to Vatican City.” He bowed his head slightly in deference to you. “I am Father Patrick McKenna, il camerlengo to his Holiness. May I ask your name?”

“Y/F/N, Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

The camerlengo’s smile widened, and you momentarily glimpsed his dazzling white teeth. “Y/N…” he repeated thoughtfully. You cherished the way your name rolled off his tongue. “How lovely. Named after Saint Y/N if I am not mistaken?”

“Yes, Father,” you shyly responded. “I was raised in a very devout home.” You quickly averted your gaze to the floor, worrying that you had revealed too much about yourself. You certainly weren’t prepared for the camerlengo’s next remark:

“I…I hope to see you next weekend.” He spoke softly, tenderly.

Your eyes shot up to his face, eagerly finding his own. The camerlengo’s eyebrows were raised expectantly; a gentle smile graced his handsome features.

“Of course, Father. It was such a lovely Mass.” You tried to convey as much sincerity as you could with your voice.

He took your hand in his and cradled it, making your heart flutter even more rapidly in your chest. “I’m glad you thought so. In the meantime, do not make yourself a stranger.” For a moment, his eyes were expectant, and he nodded solemnly—as if holding you to a serious pledge—but his fervent expression quickly melted back into one of compassion again. “You are welcome anytime.”

Your cheeks took on a lovely pink color at his words as you beamed at him.“Grazie, Padre.” Reluctantly you added, “I believe I should be going now...” Your eyes flashed over your shoulder, subtly indicating a group of nonne eager to speak with him. “I would not want to keep you all to myself.” You shyly lifted your gaze to the camerlengo again.

He chuckled softly, his eyes glinting with mirth at your remark. “May God bless you, Miss Y/L/N. Arrivederci.” As he said this, he traced the sign of the cross on your forehead, the scent of him filling your nostrils briefly. He smelled clean and masculine with a delightful hint of spiciness, which you immediately recognized to be frankincense. You savored the warmth of his skin on yours.

“Addio, monsignor,” you whispered breathlessly.

You found the courage to look into the camerlengo's spellbinding eyes once more before you turned to leave. As you exited the sacred space, you smiled to yourself, his words reverberating within you: do not be a stranger.

"Never, Father," you whispered. ¤

Translations

nonne = "grandmothers"

Il corpo di Cristo = "the body of Christ"

Non ti ho mai visto prima a San Pietro. Stai visitando la nostra bella chiesa durante le vacanze? = "I haven’t seen you before at St. Peter’s. Are you visiting our beautiful basilica while on holiday?"

No, ma sono nuovo a Roma. Vedi, mi sono appena trasferito qui due settimane fa. Lavoro con l'ambasciata degli Stati Uniti. = "No, but I am new to Rome. You see, I recently moved here a few weeks ago. I work for the US Embassy."

@seraferna @lemairepstuff

[nonsenseandstuff]

So I saw this post about bridesmaids and best men a week or so ago and queued it up, but it wouldn’t leave my head. I had this image of a best man fencing with an evil spirit. It seemed epic enough to deserve a drawing or an epic poem.

So, I wrote a ballad. It’s not exactly what I wanted when I started it, being more comic and silly than epic and I didn’t even really get the sword fight in there, but I thought I’d post it anyway. Mainly to stop myself fiddling with it and to get it out of my head. It’s very long and doesn’t have a title, so if you think of one, feel free to put it in a reply or tag or message me. 

It is a very special day,

A day of hope and joy,

The bride was dressed in all her best,

The groom, her special boy.

 Outside the church a woman was,

Ancient and withered too,

She warned all those who crossed her path,

This day they would soon rue.

 “Begone you hag”, the best man cried,

(The guests uneasy were)

“Today should be a happy day,

Our wrath you shall incur.”

 “Upset,” she said, “is better than

What could occur instead,

You do not know what lurks out there,

That could soon see us dead.”

 The bridesmaid laughed and shook her head,

“We don’t believe your lies,

As old and bitter as you are,

We won’t believe you’re wise.”

 The woman gave a weary sigh,

“I know what you all say,

Believing only what you see,

And in the light of day.”

The groom was waiting in the church,

The doors were open wide,

The pews were packed with people full,

All waiting for the bride.

 And in the shadows, something lurked,

Awaiting for his chance,

The last chance he would ever have,

To take her for a dance.

 The bride and maids were dressed in white,

The priest was waiting too,

The wedding bells would soon ring out,

Ready to say I do?

 The women walked in through the gate,

And into the churchyard,

It was the bride’s most special day,

She was not on her guard.

 They’d barely started down the path,

They were not near the door,

When icy hands reached out and grasped,

The bridesmaid, there no more.

 She screamed out loud as she was dragged,

Across the graves and mud,

She could not run, nor could she fight,

The grip that drew her blood.

 The “man” was tall and he was pale,

The colour of old bone,

He held her close against his side,

As harsh and cold as stone.

 “I have you now,” he cried, no, laughed,

One hand drew back her veil,

He snarled when he revealed her face,

“What is this dark betrayal?”

 The woman there was not the bride,

But one of her two maids,

The decoys there to keep her safe,

And to help her tie her braids.

 The monster threw the girl aside,

And reached again his hand,

He grabbed another dressed in white,

But not the one he planned.

 The second maid spat in his face,

“You’ll never get her now,

Inside the church, she’s nice and safe!”

“And that will stop me how?”

 He dropped the maid upon her friend,

And sauntered through the yard,

He walked along the crooked path,

But the big church doors were barred.

 The best man, with his sharp sword drawn,

Stood in the creature’s path,

“You stop right there, you won’t get by,”

The creature had to laugh.

 (It is the best man’s job you see,

To fight those who object,

Even foul creatures from beyond,

This marriage he’ll protect).

 “You think you have a choice, my boy?

You think you can stop me?

I’ve ripped out hearts of better men,

I’ll eat you for my tea.

 I’ve travelled long and travelled far,

From on the other side,

There is one here who I shall have,

Give me the blushing bride.”

 The best man said, “you won’t get passed-“

He was knocked to the ground,

The creature stepped over the man,

(and neither made a sound).

 The guests all cowered in the church,

The doors were open wide,

The pews were packed with fearful folk,

But where oh where’s the bride?

 The creature stalked along the aisle,

Ignoring all the screams,

Where was the woman all in white,

The woman of his dreams?

 The old priest stepped to bar the way,

The church was his domain,

“You have no business, creature, here,”

His voice cracked with the strain.

 “I am not some petty spirit,

It’s not some petty game,

Bow down your head and stand aside,

And let me at the dame.”

 The creature sauntered down the aisle,

The guests all shook in fear,

It was not good, it was not right,

To see the creature here.

 The groom hid behind the altar,

He loved his bride to be,

He did not fight, he was not strong,

But his one true love was she.

 The creature raised his sharp clawed hands,

And snarled and hissed and groaned,

He loomed over the humans there,

Whilst they all shook and moaned.

 The bride she knew just what he was,

She’d seen him oft before,

And turned him down so many times,

She’d turn him down once more.

 She was hidden from the creature,

Was hidden from his wrath,

Then she, with shaking hands, stepped out,

Into the middle of his path.

  “I was never yours, foul creature,

I always told you no,

And you show up at my wedding?

You know where you can go!”

 “You are,” he said, “the one I love,

I cannot let you go,

You have to see your vast mistake,

I know I’ve told you so.”

 “So what if he’s not a hero?

Or magical like you?

He is kind and he is gentle,

I know he loves me too.”

 The groom stepped up with shaking hands,

And stood at her left side,

“So I don’t know how to stop you,

I know I love my bride.”

 “Then is that your final answer?

For me to fade away?

After all I would have given,

You will so rue this day.”

The old woman (you remember,

The one who sat outside),

She laughed and laughed and said to him,

“She will not be your bride.”

 “This one,” she said, “is truly brave,

With true love too, I’d say,

So begone you wretched creature,

Give her her happy day.”

 The creature frowned and stamped one foot,

Arms folded on his chest,

He pouted like a little child,

A spoiled brat, I attest.

 “But I do so truly love her,

You just don’t understand,

The pain that I feel deep inside,

To see her take his hand.”

 “You’ve loved before, you’ll love again,”

The withered woman said,

“Remember you live far longer,

You’ll blink and she’ll be dead.”

 “What business is it then, of yours?”

The creature growled and hissed,

“A petty, jealous, ancient hag,

You surely won’t be missed.”

 The creature raised his sharpened claws,

(the guests all gave a cry),

The hag stood tall and bared her throat,

“Go on, give it a try.”

 “Onc, years ago, I went with you,

You ate up all my youth,

And now you’re back to try again,

Your love is never truth.

 You take us far away from here,

Into some fairy glen,

Your interest soon it fades away,

Just like all other men.

 The bride she is still young and strong,

Smarter, she is, than me,

And she is true and she’s in love,

So you just leave her be.”

 “So you think that you can stop me,

Old woman that you are?

You’ve seen my powers and my land,

You’re bones I will soon char!”

“You may have gotten bored of me,”

The elder woman smiled,

“Your sister, on the other hand…

You’d better leave this child.”

 The creature flinched and shook his head,

“You’re lying to me,” he cried,

“My sister would not get involved,”

“I’m confused,” said the bride.

 “For all these months you have wooed me,

Despite my clear said no,

You said I was your one true love,

But her too, is that so?”

 “You know to me she’s nothing,

You are the one I need,

Come with me and belong to me,

Or else I’ll see you bleed.”

 “Oh no you won’t,” a voice rang out,

(A bright and warming sound)

“Little brother, what have you done?”

A second creature frowned.

 She’s terrible but gorgeous too,

She stalked the crowded aisle,

“Mabel,” she said, “are you quite well?”

(Old woman gave a smile)

 “Oh brother mine, what have you done?

You know that no means no,

I’m taking you back to our home,

Say sorry now, let’s go.”

 “Sister you cannot understand,

It is true love this time!”

The bride cried out, strong and loud,

“I don’t love you, you slime!”

  “You’ve heard it from the girl’s own mouth,

You’re not her one true love,

You need to leave now, come with me,

You too, Mabel, my dove.”

 “I will not leave, I will not go!”

“Don’t make me get our dad!”

The creature flinched and quickly said,

“I’m sorry, don’t be mad!”

 With that both creatures took their leave,

(and Mabel too, of course,)

And journeyed back to their home land,

By puff of smoke, not horse.

 And as for those left in the church,

All of them gathered near,

They had one question left to ask:

“So what just happened here?”

 The bride and groom, well, they were wed,

It really was true love,

As for the bridesmaids and best man,

None hurt, thank stars above.

 The moral then, of this long tale,

It does not matter much,

It is a story told in fun,

And should be seen as such.

Hey, if you enjoyed this story, you can read more of my writing here.