#ball state cardinals

[athleticperfection1]

Ball State Soccer

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Ball State Cardinals vs Kent State Golden Flashes 1/20/2023 Picks Predictions Previews

Ball State Cardinals vs Kent State Golden Flashes 1/20/2023 Picks Predictions Previews by Tonys team of professional handicappers who research College Basketball. Visit Us for Free Football Sports Picks, NBA Free Picks, Free NCAAF Picks, Free NCAAB Picks, Free NFL Picks and Free College Basketball Picks

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[gravehags]

crimson headache, aching blush

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: EXPLICIT, MDNI

Tags: panty stealing, panty sniffing, pillow humping, first date, champagne consumption, dry humping, grinding, possessiveness, copia being a little sex freak as per usual, tenderness as per usual

Words: 5,758

Summary: When he asks you on your first real date with him, this is not the outcome you anticipated.

a/n: hehehehe hohohoho we're almost there folks

divider by @gothdaddyissues!

He shouldn’t have done this.

That’s the thought running rampant on repeat in his mind as he lays in his bed, staring at the illicit goods in his hand. He’s filled with shame at committing such a violation of your privacy and yet…he turns the piece of black mesh over in his grip, relishing the way the fabric feels sliding against his bare knuckles. He heaves a sigh - he’s dragging this out because he’s scared what will come to pass once he does what he’s longed to do all afternoon. It’s been balled up in his pocket all day, you completely unaware beside him on the couch and in the dining hall as he surreptitiously fingered it. 

It was an impulse theft from when you were in the bathroom post-nap fixing your hair and he was left to his own devices in your bedroom. He saw the hamper tucked away in a corner and he swore that in that moment his heart stopped. He could hear you humming something familiar as he skittered over to the basket, reaching a hand in to flick through your dirty laundry. Under a t-shirt he found it. His prize. His breath caught in his throat and somewhere in the back of his mind he realized you were softly singing “He Is” in the other room. He snatched it up in a moment of impulse and almost doubled over in shame but before he allowed himself to fully process the feeling and put your underwear back, he shoved it deep into his pocket. You emerged a moment later, smiling and ignorant of his crime, and grabbed him by the hand to tug him towards the couch. There you spent the rest of the afternoon curled into his side watching paranormal shows while his eyes stared forward but his mind was chaotic. He’s more ashamed of the way he ignored you for the rest of the evening, even as the two of you sat across from one another at your table in the dining hall. You had finally stopped trying to engage with him but by then the damage was done. He could practically feel the anxiety radiating off of you as you kissed his cheek with a quiet “goodnight” before leaving him standing there with only the static of his busy mind for company. By the time he called out your name in the empty cloister you were long gone and guilt sat heavy in his stomach. He shuffled back to his rooms and disrobed mechanically. When he saw his reflection in the bathroom mirror he jumped - he was so distracted by his little secret he didn’t even bother to reapply his paints before he went to dinner with you. He turned off the faucet with a sigh and slumped out of the bathroom to plug his phone in. Climbed into bed and now here he is. 

He wants to text you, to apologize for his horrible, neglectful behavior but it feels even more shameful when he’s holding a very private part of you captive without your knowledge. He takes a deep breath - in, out, in, out, in - then raises his fist to his face. He feels like he’s been punched in the gut as he curls onto his side, the tantalizing scrap of fabric with your scent pressed against his nose. You smell…cazzo, he doesn’t know how to properly describe it in this state…earthy and feminine and hypnotic. Dirty. His cock throbs against his sleep pants, aching for contact. Normally he’d take himself in hand and get the job done but he knows it’s not going to be enough. Sitting up he reaches behind himself to grab a pillow and swings his leg over to straddle it. It’s too late to strip himself fully so instead he yanks down his sleep pants until his cock springs forward, bobbing in front of him with pre smeared down the shaft.

“Amata mia,” he groans as he spreads his thighs and lowers himself. He brings your smell back to his nose and his hips jolt forward, sliding across the cushion and leaving a damp drag mark on the red pillowcase. As he begins to rut against it he falls forward and plants a fist into the mattress to steady himself. He imagines it’s you beneath him, your pliant flesh and your tight wetness he’s fucking into. The thought makes his mouth hang open, drool pooling in his jaw and threatening to spill over onto his bed.

“Nnngh bellezza mia,” he grunts, hips picking up a frantic pace as he humps desperately into the pillow, “So soft a-and willing for me. How you t-tease your Cardinal. Soon I’ll h-have you. I’ll–ah–ruin you, amore mio. P-piccola vergine mia.”

The bed creaks beneath him from the force of his thrusts, his fist flying from the mattress to grip the headboard. He’s close and his rhythm is becoming sloppy as the strings of his self control are slowly cut away. He can almost hear your voice speaking to him so sweetly - yes Copia, please, fuck, don’t stop - and for a final time he raises the gusset of your underwear to his nose as he hears you say it–

I love you. 

He cums with a hoarse moan, painting the pillowcase and mattress with ropes of his seed, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. His hips don’t still afterwards, continuing to rock against the cushion desperate to wring out the last dregs of his orgasm. By the time he forces himself to stop, tears are dropping onto the pillow to mix with his mess and he sniffles miserably in the silent room. You fool, his brain hisses, risking everything to get yourself off. She must hate you now - must be sitting in her room wondering why she ever wasted a moment of her time and energy on you. The last part makes him sob aloud, doubling over on himself before angrily tearing the pillow out from under him and flinging it to the rug. He doesn’t bother to clean up his mess, instead choosing to curl into a fetal position. His hand twitches with the desire to grab his phone and call you, text you, anything to explain himself but instead he heaves a shuddering sigh.

Why bother, he thinks to himself, messily wiping his snot with the back of his hand, you deserve better anyway.

—

You’re sitting on the edge of your bed in your pajamas with your phone in your hand, cursor in the text box flashing up at you tauntingly. You could settle this in a matter of seconds if you really wanted to. But do you want to? Do you really want to know about how he’s changed his mind about you, how he regrets ever bending to your annoying little advances? The thought makes your gut roil with nausea and you blindly set your phone back on your nightstand and flop backyards onto the duvet, running through everything you said to him today. He was fine up until…up until after your nap. After he had time to ruminate on your confession of love. Numbly you sit back up and finagle yourself under the covers, feeling embarrassed, hurt, and…angry? You’ve never been angry at Copia, never thought you could be but the blank look on his face as he sat in silence for the entirety of your meal that night while you chattered away makes something raw burn in your belly. Every moment between the two of you since last night has happened at your insistence. Every conversation, every confession, every action. What if this was just a game to him? What if you were just a conquest he could lord above Terzo, finally succeeding where the Papa had failed? What if Terzo–

Stop.

Fucking stop.

You reach behind you and bend the edges of your pillow up against your ears in an attempt to muffle the din in your brain. Copia would never. He would never purposely hurt you. You think of the raw expression on his bare face as you told him of your love, the tenderness in his voice when he spoke of his. Shame floods you, sick to your stomach that you could ever think such a thing of your beloved. That’s not the man you’ve gotten to know over almost an entire year. Something might have been bothering him tonight but it wasn’t you. You turn over and grab your phone, opening your texts.

Hey - you seemed distant tonight, is everything okay? Love you

You set the phone down and hesitate before reaching for the prescription bottle. Might as well, not going to fall asleep like this. Swallowing the pill with the room temperature water on your nightstand you look hopefully at your phone, willing it to light up. When it stays dark, you inhale a deep sigh before falling back into your pillows. There’s a smoky smell lingering on them, warm and animalic, and you realize it’s him. You drag the pillow he slept on today towards you and breathe in, relishing the scent of his cologne and his hair pomade. It makes your heart so full and you can’t bring yourself to pull away so you curl yourself into it, letting the rise and fall of your chest lull you to sleep.

You have strange dreams where you’re dancing with a black goat with mismatched eyes.

You do not remember them upon waking.

—

When Copia wakes up at a miserable hour he feels like absolute dogshit. He abandoned his remaining pillow some time in the night and now finds himself curled on his side on the mattress, dick out with a pounding headache. He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but judging from the lingering damp stains on his sheets he most certainly cried until he passed out. 

“Cazzo,” he groans, putting his palms to his face and rubbing it roughly. He sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed, angling his hips to finally tuck himself away and restore even a small bit of his dignity. He looks at the stained pillow on the floor and his headache worsens.

“Fottuto idiota,” he growls, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’s about to get up and throw his exhausted body into the shower when he spies his phone out of the corner of his eye. He hesitates for a moment before reaching for it. When he sees a notification on his lockscreen - from you - his heart rockets into his throat. Hands shaking he opens his messages, nauseous at what he might see.

Hey - you seemed distant tonight, is everything okay? Love you

Love you. Love you. She still loves you.

He hops out of bed, overjoyed and types out, then deletes at least a dozen different messages to you. When none of them prove satisfactory he throws his phone down on the bed and stumbles over to his closet. He said he was going to woo you, damn it all, and he intends to follow through. He selects a freshly laundered cassock - red, he knows it’s your favorite - and tosses it on the bed. His mind is abuzz with all the tasks he needs to accomplish but first - a nice long, scalding hot shower.

—

You’re tucked away in your bed - your warm, soft, wonderful bed - when you hear a noise somewhere in the back of your consciousness. One of your eyes cracks open, views the blurry surroundings, and immediately slides closed again.

Then you hear it again. It’s louder. More insistent.

You groan and roll onto your back, opening both eyes against your will to stare at the beams above you. You’re about to roll back over when you hear it again and realize it’s knocking. At your door. With furrowed brows you turn over to squint at your bedside clock - now who the fuck–

You shoot up so fast it makes you dizzy and fling the covers back, your heart pounding. It has to be him right? You’re making your way to the door, bedhead be damned, and you swear if you open it and Terzo’s idiotic face is on the other side you’re going to deck him. By the time you make it to your destination, the person on the other side begins knocking sharply again but you swing the door open midway through their progress. 

It’s him, like you knew it would be.

And he looks magnificent.

He’s in his red cassock, matching biretta perched neatly on his still damp hair and holding one hand behind his back. When he sees you, his shoulders straighten and he bows.

“Amata mia, please, please forgive me for my behavior last night. I–”

You don’t even give him a chance to finish his explanation, throwing your arms around him and pulling him close.

“It’s okay,” you say, voice muffled by the wool of his pellegrina.

“Amore, no it’s not. I was so caught up in my own head that I-I didn’t treat you like you deserve. I am a poor excuse for a paramour, eh? Not even the first full day and I’ve already fucked it up.”

“I can’t lie, I was a wreck last night,” you confess as you pull away, rubbing your eyes, “your brain isn’t the only one too full. I had almost convinced myself of some really horrible shit.”

His smile drops and his brows knit together as he cups your cheek gently.

“I’m so sorry, dolcezza. Next time I’ll tell you when I’m preoccupied, but know that my love for you will never be the source of my grief.”

You lean up and peck him on the lips before gesturing behind him.

“What’s this?”

“Ah,” Copia brings his arm forward and produces a bouquet of beautifully vivid orange roses tied up with twine, “for my amore.”

“Copia!” you gasp, accepting the blooms from him, “these are my favorite how did you…?”

“Primo told me,” he says with a smile, following you into your apartment as you pad over to the kitchen, “said he’d been growing them in his greenhouse ‘just in case’ we uh…” He trails off, blushing as you pull a vase out of a cabinet.

“I think the Papas might have been looking forward to us getting together more than we did at this point,” you laugh, filling the glass with water and placing the roses inside. The fragrance coming off them is heady and lovely. You put your hands on your hips and give Copia a wide smile.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure? Or was this gorgeous display,” you gesture at his neatly pressed cassock and the flowers, “just your way of saying sorry? Wouldn’t mind you slipping up a little more often if these are the rewards I receive.”

His brows furrow and he glances at the floor.

“Hey, hey, hey,” you say, moving over to him and placing your hands on his biceps, “I’m sorry, you know me and my stupid jokes. You’re good. We’re good.”

He raises his downcast eyes to look at you and you want to melt into a puddle at the pure adoration you see there. Like a Satanic puppy dog with heterochromia, a slight build and a nice ass. His little smile when he finally speaks makes you smile.

“I, eh, did have another reason to see you so early in the morning, cara,” he reaches up with a gloved hand and gently tames your flyaways, “I wanted to ask you on a…a date.”

You wrap your arms around his waist and lean forward, placing your chin on his chest.

“Mmm what did you have in mind, Cardinal?”

Not missing a beat his crows feet scrunch and he cradles your head in his hands, using his thumbs to brush at your temples.

“Dinner - in the village? I know a place.”

“Oooh…a night out on the town…”

He snorts, “I don’t think that sleepy little hamlet even counts as a town but it’s the closest we’ve got.”

“Hmm…an excuse to get dressed up and show you off? How could I refuse?”

He rolls his eyes and scoffs at your statement while you grin up at him.

“What time do you want me?”

The phrase comes out of your mouth so casually, you forget its double meaning until you see him swallow thickly and flush.

“H-how about 7? On Friday?”

“On New Years’ Eve?” you shrug, “Sure, and maybe you can come over afterwards to watch the ball drop or whatever. I’ve got another bottle of that chianti you like. Or maybe I’ll hunt down a bottle of champagne. I’ve never had anyone to kiss at midnight before.”

His eyes go a bit glassy and he looks over your shoulder as if considering something. Finally he nods to himself and meets your gaze once more.

“Sì, sì, that would be lovely.”

“It’s a date,” you say, unwinding your arms from around his body and scrunching your nose at him.

“I, uh…have some things to attend to today. I’ll text you later, sì?”

You shrug, secretly appreciative of the fact that he’s letting you return to your (now undoubtedly cold) bed. 

“Mmhmm. Thank you for the flowers, my love. They’re perfect. And…if you want to talk about what was bothering you, you know I’m always here.”

He blanches and you look at him curiously before placing a soft kiss on his lips.

“G-grazie, amata. I will, eh, keep that in mind.”

Turning on his heel he strides to the door and you follow him, watching as he departs. A few steps down the hall, he turns and gives you a weird little wave before pausing and continuing back down his path. You snort and shut the door with a sigh, looking over at the flowers he brought you. And to think last night you were convinced he hated you. Making a noise of contentment and yawning wide, you shuffle back to bed.

—

Standing in the entry hall, he fusses with his cuffs and straightens his suit jacket. It’s…tighter than what he’s accustomed to. Particularly in the lower half. He growls as he reaches down to adjust himself, cursing Terzo and Terzo’s tailor. You look good, fratello! It really highlights your attributes, huh? Idiota. He cuts a svelte figure in the snug black fabric, true, but all he really cares about is that you will like it. Every once in a while a sibling passes by and stares at him. You’re not late by any means but still he taps his foot impatiently against the marble, filled with nervous energy. When he reaches up to smooth his mustache he hears it - a thump and a soft “fuck!” coming from nearby. He would know that foul mouth anywhere and he straightens his posture and places his hands behind his back. 

He’s not ready for what he sees when you round the corner.

You’re swathed in rich, burgundy velvet, the fabric clinging to your every dip and curve. The straps are thin and the hemline is short - tantalizingly short, he can see quite a good amount of your thigh tattoo. Gold stilettos are on your feet - he suspects the cause of the swearing earlier - and your hair is soft and loose. He knows he looks like a fucking fool, mouth hanging open as you approach but how could he look any other way when you stand before him looking like that. He doesn’t notice the way your eyes widen at his outfit, gaze lingering on his thighs and between his legs. As you step closer he sees the light glinting off his Yule gift, resting prettily on your clavicle. The sight makes him hungry.

“Copia, wow,” you breathe, giving him another slow once-over, “damn you look good.”

He’s jolted from the string of filth running through his mind by your assessment.

“Me? Dolcezza, you. You look…”

He knows the word he wants to use as his hands rest on your hips and before he can think better of it, it comes out.

“Delicious.”

The look on your face is well worth the bold step. Your painted lips part, eyes flicking over his features as he rubs circles with his gloved thumbs into your sides. You let out a breathy little laugh, placing your palms flat on his pectorals.

“Take me to dinner?” you ask, the lights in the hall glinting off your lip gloss. He nods.

“Eh…yes. Gladly. Shall we?”

He relinquishes his grip on you and steps back, offering you an arm which you take with a smile. 

“Won’t you be cold, amore?” he asks, stopping mid stride. You grin and grab his arm, wrapping it around your waist nice and snug.

“When I’ve got you to keep me warm? Perish the thought.”

How he longs to feel the softness of your dress under his bare fingertips, and the pliant flesh underneath. For now he settles for holding you fast against him as the two of you exit the front doors and head to his ride. He rarely takes her out these days - too many responsibilities at the abbey - but he always has a ghoul make sure she’s in pristine condition when he can’t get to her. She’s in one of the garages and he motions for you to wait at the steps so you don’t have to make the treacherous walk in heels through gravel. 

“Eh, I’ll be back in a jiffy,” he says before jogging off, fishing the keys out of the clever little pocket Terzo’s tailor sewed into the jacket. Unlocking the driver side door he slides in, praying to Satan she starts. She does, and she still purrs like a dream much to his satisfaction. Carefully, he pulls out and around to the driveway where you are waiting with a grin on your face. When he reaches your spot he puts the car in park and hustles out of his side over to the passenger door.

“Copia,” you say, giving both him and the car the once-over, “you continue to surprise me every day. A classic car?”

He shrugs, blushing as he opens the door for you and places his hand on the small of your back to usher you inside. When you’re seated and buckled he returns to the driver side and slides in next to you.

“Tell me about her,” you murmur, running your hands over the upholstery as he pulls out of the front gates.

“She’s eh, a 1968 Buick LeSabre,” he begins, heading down the dark road. It’s starting to drizzle.

“I don’t know shit about cars,” you say, smiling sheepishly at him, “but I love a good classic car. They have so much more character. Way sexier. I mean, who is imagining getting railed in the back of a Corolla?”

That makes him almost swerve off the road.

“You…you think about…”

“Well I do now,” there’s a slyness in your voice that makes his pants tighten and he’s thankful for the darkness masking him. You’ve got your arm resting on the back of the seat, fluttering your eyelashes at him. Oh, how he’d love to pull off the road and have you in the backseat. Make a mess of the leather and fog up the windows, your legs on his shoulders. His window starts to become cloudy and he realizes he’s mouthbreathing and you’re watching him very carefully. He needs to change the subject fast, or this date is going to be over before it even officially starts.

“H-have you been into the village much?”

You’ve stopped looking at him and turn your body to stare out the windshield, but a smile still lingers on your lips.

“Honestly? Only once and that was just to wander around. It’s so easy to rely on the abbey to provide everything, you kind of forget the outside world exists at all. Going home to see my parents was such a culture shock after being here so long. Does the outside feel…y’know…weird for you?”

He’s immensely glad you’ve diverted the conversation to something less stressful and he makes a little thoughtful noise.

“It did when I was younger, especially before I left Roma. As I traveled more, I got used to the stares my vestments would get. Most people just assumed I was Catholic. But…I never really fit in at the abbeys I was at, either. Too odd to really fit in in either world.”

He chides himself at the sadness in his voice - he would never regret being vulnerable with you but he would be lying if he said the thought of his life still didn’t leave a bitter taste in his mouth. You stay quiet, pensive, as the car enters the main street and pulls into a spot outside the restaurant. He shuts off the engine with a sigh, slapping his thighs. You’re looking at him with an expression he can’t quite read, and you nod minutely to yourself before unbuckling and getting out. He follows suit, jogging around the car to you and wrapping his arm around your shoulders before opening the restaurant door.

–

Your date goes wonderfully: the food, delicious and the company even moreso. Copia’s friendliness with the owner, a woman in her seventies with a dyed bouffant, ensures that neither of you go hungry nor thirsty that night. By the time you finish your bruschetta, your risotto, your tiramisu, and several glasses of wine not only are you content, you’re practically buzzing. You’re not drunk - nowhere near it - simply just happy to be in this moment with the man you adore. Your boyfriend. Is he your boyfriend? It somehow feels too juvenile a term for the two of you. Eh, whatever. You’ll take it. You’re torn from your thoughts by a chuckling Copia, sipping at the dregs of his affogato.

“What? What?”

He shakes his head with a smile.

“Nothing, cara, nothing. You, eh, ready to go?”

You nod and slide your chair back, stretching, deeply looking forward to getting back to your quarters and taking these damn heels off. Lucia comes by for one last hug before the two of you walk out the door and Copia ushers you to the car. Fat drops begin to splatter on the windshield as you wait for your love to take you home. When he gets into the car you slide to the center seat to nestle into him as he pulls away and down the long road to the abbey. The two of you are quiet during the drive back, his arm wrapped around you as your heavy eyelids droop and the rain hammers steadily on the roof. He pulls around and stops at the front steps.

“Your…your heels?”

You smile and place a swift kiss on his cheek before exiting the vehicle and rushing to the dry entryway. He’s not terribly long behind you and the two of you hurry into the warmth. He holds your hand as you make the journey up to your rooms and when you open the door you sigh dramatically.

“Make yourself at home,” you murmur to him as he shuts the door. You’re currently preoccupied with removing your shoes and tossing them in a corner, to be dealt with tomorrow. He settles on the couch as you remove your earrings.

“You can put on Dick Clark, or whatever,” you throw over your shoulder as you pad over to the fridge and pull a bottle out, “I got champagne - well Terzo got us champagne technically - you interested?”

“Sì, sì,” he says with an enthusiastic nod, flipping through channels, “you say…Terzo gave it to you?”

“Yeah,” you reach in the cabinet for your flutes, “came by the other day with it, apparently it’s good stuff. I’ll drink the swill you get at the corner liquor store but I thought it was nice of him.”

“Hmm, yes. Nice.” Copia says, eyebrows pulled together. You step over to the couch and hand him his glass, clinking it with yours before settling in next to him with your legs tucked to the side.

If the wine at dinner didn’t go to your head, the champagne certainly does. The two of you have polished off the bottle - and just opened another, of the swill variety - and are laughing into one another on the couch.

“You did not do that to Nihil when you were a kid,” you gasp. Copia grins wide at you and nods, making you laugh all over again.

“It’s what the old man deserved,” he says simply, polishing off his glass.

“Listen, I don’t disagree with you but taking safety scissors to his hair…Christ, no wonder he’s always bitching at you.”

Your laughter slowly dies as you nuzzle into his shoulder, the scent of his cologne making you even more tipsy. He’s got his nose brushing against your hair and you wonder if he likes what he smells too. 

“This is nice,” you murmur, as you lean up to place a slow kiss to his jaw. Your hand is resting on his chest and you feel his noise of agreement rumble through him. His hand comes up to cradle your head as you kiss your way to his lips. When you reach your destination he groans as you slip your tongue against his. You want this man so very badly, more than you ever have before. When you pull away briefly he looks befuddled as you stand up and look down at him. The way he gazes up at you as your fingers dance along his freckled cheekbone makes you feel far more tipsy than the champagne ever could. Without a word you kneel on one side of his leg and pull your other leg over to straddle him. His breathing is fast and rough as you scoot your hips so the two of you are flush.

“Dolcezza,” he finally breathes, “you…we shouldn’t…”

“But I want to,” you murmur against his lips, “I’ll wait. But let me have this. Please, Copia.”

There’s a slight whine to your voice in your pleading and you feel his cock twitch against you. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you flex your hips experimentally. The catch of your underwear on your clit with the movement pushes you to repeat it, over and over. Copia growls, low, before sliding his gloved hands up your bare thighs, rucking your dress over your hips.

“Go on, cara,” he grits out, as if possessed “use me. Soak through these–” his hands toy with the waistband of your red lace underwear, “--and get your sweet smell all over me. Please. Please.”

His words knock the breath from your lungs as you grind against him. You don’t even have your hand on him but you can feel that he’s big and the curve of him nudges your clit so beautifully. You’re biting your lip as you ride him, his large hands pulling and pushing your body.

“C-Copia,” you whimper, and he bucks up against you, “feel so good. Fuck I–”

You can’t even get the words out before one of his hands grabs the back of your head and pulls you down. You’re panting into each other’s mouths even as you lick and suck and rut your hips. When you finally have to pull away for breath, Copia keeps his hand at the back of your head, pressing your foreheads together.

“I am going to ruin you, amata,” he grunts, thrusting sharply against you in time with each roll of your hips, “you have n-no idea. I will hold you down and take and b-bring you such pleasure no one else will ever sate you. Sei il mio tutto.”

You feel a gush of slick come out of you at his words, your pace picking up.

“Please, Copia,” you whine, “please I need it, need you, I-I’ve wanted you for so long.”

He’s gripping your thighs with greater force now, hard enough you know he’s going to leave bruises and the thought makes you even wetter.

“Bellezza mia,” he moans as your hips move frantically against him, your eyes rolling back at the way his cock bumps your swollen clit, “anima mia, you have no–ah–no idea what you do to me. Ragazza perfetta–ragazza amata–”

Your head tilts back as you breathlessly chant - right there, right there, yes, yes, don’t stop - and he ruts up against you, his thrusts erratic. When you cum you moan long and loud - far more wanton than any sound you’ve ever coaxed out of yourself while on your own - and you feel the two scraps of fabric separating you become drenched. He’s not far behind and with a hoarse shout his cock kicks against you and the warmth of his seed soaks his trousers. You’re both trembling as you brush noses with him and press your forehead against his. Muffled cheering comes from the TV behind you, breaking your bubble, and you move to look but he catches your chin between his thumb and forefinger and softly brushes his lips against yours. It’s achingly tender and when the two of you slowly part he blinks up at you. You swear his white eye is glowing.

“Happy New Year,” you murmur, your arms still slung around his neck. 

“Happy New Year, amore mio,” he breathes.

You could rest in his lap like this forever, were it not clear to you that he must be incredibly uncomfortable - both with the weight and the mess in his pants. When you scoot back and place your feet on the floor to stand, your knees nearly give out.

“I’ll um…” you begin, distracted by the way his gloved fingers toy with the hem of your dress, “d-do you want to stay? Not…not to…just to sleep.”

You expect him to recoil, to anxiously but gently reject you as he has in the past.

“Sì…yes. I would like that. I should…go shower…change…”

“Of course, me too,” you nod, giving him space to move. You’re overjoyed he’s agreed and smile at him warmly as he raises himself from the couch. He cups your cheek with his palm and drags his thumb along the skin.

“Some champagne, huh?” he says with a wry grin, making you snort.

“Powerful stuff,” you agree. Slowly, gently he closes the distance between you for another painfully tender kiss.

“I’ll be back, sì?” he tells you before placing another soft kiss on your forehead. You nod and reluctantly let him pull away, watching him walk towards the door and open it. He gives you one last smile before shutting it behind him.

This time, your knees really do give out.

[inky-duchess]

Fantasy Guide to A Coronation

Coronations are the ceremony in which your monarch is confirmed by church or state or the people by the bestowing of a crown and regalia and the taking of oaths. So how do we write them?

When does Coronation takes place?

A Coronation usually takes place some time after death of the previous monarch. Past coronations would take place mere weeks after the death of a monarch as it was essential that the monarch be crowned to confirm their legitimacy. Modern coronations would take place months after the death of a monarch. In this time period, the new monarch IS the monarch - just uncrowned. This does not effect their powers in any way.

What’s in a Coronation?

Coronations are usually very lavish affairs. These are not only just ceremonies, these are statements a sort of opening show to the monarch's reign. A Coronation will usually be accompanied by numerous parades, balls, pageants, military displays and concerts. It's usually framed as a celebration of the Royal family of the monarch or the nation as a whole. The population is expected to celebrate.

Who attends a Coronation?

Coronations were big affairs. Many invitations would be sent out, inviting representatives from other nations, friends and allies, even uncertain friends and unfriendly nations. Other monarchs are generally not invited out of tradition but they will send heirs and relatives to represent them. Coronations were a display of wealth and power and it was in the monarch's best interest to get as many people there as possible. Coronations were also essential to monarchy for one very good reason: not only were you recognised by the state but it was a chance to accept fealty - promises of loyalty - from nobles. Many nobles from across the land would be invited to witness and then profess their loyalty to the Monarch.

What to Wear to a Coronation?

Coronations were meant to be pageants so everybody wore their very best clothes, jewels and put their best foot forward. Peers or nobles would wear red velvet robes (see above) over their clothes along with coronets (also see above) denoting rank. Traditional clothing would also be encouraged, the Japanese Imperial family often don traditional garments for their enthronements. The Royal family would wear military uniform or royal robes usually purple velvet rather than red trimmed with ermine. They would also wear coronets. The monarch would usually be the most expensive dressed, yet however this can also backfire. The monarch has to be modest yet also outdone everybody. George IV made the grave faux pas of spending a shit ton of money on his outfit for the coronation which he only wore the once. Most monarchs tend to have their Robes and clothes embroidered with emblems of the nation and to wear significant relics during the ceremony.

The Ceremony

After a procession through the streets the monarch and/or their Consort arrive on the scene. They will be wrapped in red velvet Robes on their arrival and accompanied by pages or maids of honour who help carry the train of their Robes.

Before the monarch, selected peers will carry the regalia. These are the relics that are bestowed on the monarch throughout the ceremony. These usually include the crown itself, the sceptres, the coronation ring, the coronation Robes and an orb.

In some instances, the monarch would be presented to the assembled crowd at each Cardinal point - North, south, east, west and proclaimed the undoubted king/queen/sovereign. It is then the crowd issue an acceptance.

Monarchs would then be asked to take oaths by the figure ordaining them before the assembled crowd. These oaths would be one of service, something along the lines of promising to uphold law and tradition, being merciful, trying not to murder the peasants too much, keep their deity on side and try not to be too much of a failure.

Then monarch will sit on the throne and be anointed. During this part, they usually put a linen smock over their clothes to protect their finery. The anointing in Western culture is usually linked to Christianity, with the application of holy oil. However, the annointing can be replaced with a blessing in any other setting. During this part of the ceremony, the monarch and/or the Consort is shielded by a canopy of cloth of gold held aloft by high ranking nobles. This part of the ceremony is not to be witnessed by the crowd. It is sacred.

Then the monarch is wrapped in their new Robes. They are presented the regalia. The orb represents the monarch's power. The ring is symbolic of wedding oneself to duty. The sceptre is symbolic of power over governance. Once the monarch has been wrapped up and given these items, the Crown is then lowered onto their head. The crown is usually a jewel stubbed coronet fitted over a velvet cap and trimmed with ermine. There would be the monarch's crown and the Consort's crown (which is usually that much smaller). Around them, the nobility will place their coronets on simultaneously while the military give a gun salute.

After this, the Royal family and the peers would then come and kneel before the monarch, removing their coronets and making their oath of "I swear that I will pay true allegiance to Your Majesty, and to your heirs and successors according to law. So help me God." Once the path is made, they can step back and put their coronet back on.

Once homage is paid, the Consort would then be crowned if this is a married couple having their coronation. Consorts do not have to take an oath but they are given a coronation ring, a crown and sceptres.

Once everybody has made their oaths and the monarch can barely move under their Robes and regalia, it is time for the monarch to make a procession back through the streets - now a crowned monarch.

When Coronations go Wrong

Like most ceremonies, things can go wrong at coronations. Most coronations go off without a hitch yet there are always downsides to a large, expensive ceremony of an unelected figurehead. Surprisingly.

Coronations are often long affairs. There are numerous historical accounts of peers and guests fainting from the exertion of standing in such heavy Robes. These Robes were not only deadly because of heat exhaustion but also their length. The elderly Lord Rolle actually fell down a flight of steps at Queen Victoria's coronation.

Many past coronations have failed due to poor planning. Nicholas II and his Consort Alexandra's coronation was a very lavish affair however due to terrible planning, a stampede occurred where thousands of Russian people where injured and killed. Despite the tragedy, the Couple did not visit the site or the injured, instead going to the French ambassador's ball on bad advice. History would remember him as Bloody Nicholas, made all the more bloody by the Revolution years after.

George IV, as per usual, caused consternation at his own coronation by constantly walking out from under his canopy which caused the nobles holding it to speed up making it all look rather silly.

Guestlists are often contentious points. It is very important not to jar international relations by snubbing foreign powers. While some of the nobles are invited, it is usually expected that the crown will invite representatives from all nations. If invitations are not issued, it can lead to issues. The Royal family is nearly always invited in its entirety even despite criminal activity (fuck you Andrew) but sometimes snubs are issued. Caroline of Brunswick, the rightful Queen Consort, was actually barred from being crowned by her husband. Its rumoured that her hammering on the door could be heard throughout George IV's coronation. Edward VIII, the King who abdicated over his love for Wallis Simpson, was not invited to either his brother's subsequent coronation or his niece's due to the optics of him being a former king and his rumoured ties to Britain's enemies.

Queen Victoria's coronation got off to a very bad start since the coronation ring had been made too small and then shoved onto the wrong ring. Victoria wrote in her diary that she had to rest her hand in ice for the rest of the day.

Coronations are framed as ceremonies of celebrations and national might and while that may be their intention, they are very often, rightly, subject to criticism. Coronations are widely expensive and very often are a display out outdated or unpopular ideals especially modern coronations. In a post WWI world the time of difference is now over and the media rightly critises such an expensive and outdated ceremony. Many monarchies have hastened to modernise to keep up with the new world, cutting down the budgets and revamping the ceremonies. The Swedish monarchs are no longer crowned but instead invested through an oath and sitting on their famous Silver Throne. However, many feel that coronations are becoming a thing of the past and may not be seen in the future.

[trivialbob]

This past weekend two of my cousins (sisters) and one of their husbands drove here from Missouri. The sisters live on opposite sides of the Show Me state. I forgot to ask where they met up, because they all arrived in one car.

The cousins are trying to see a game at each major league ballpark. One works for the St. Louis Cardinals.

Friday night my dad, my siblings, the cousins, a nephew and significant others hung out at my house for dinner. The next evening we went to Target Field to watch the Minnesota Twins play the Cincinnati Reds.

I liked where we sat, behind home plate. Sadly no foul balls came our way. How cool would it be to have an apartment/condo where your balcony overlooks the stadium? Pricey, for certain.

More views of the field:

It was Armed Forces Appreciation Day. My private bits get a little tingly at military aircraft flyovers. That night it was an H-60 Black Hawk following a CH-47 Chinook, both from the Minnesota Air National Guard. They don't look close in the picture, but when they were directly overhead I could see that the pilots had shaved that morning.

My cousins came bearing gifts. One owns a quilting shop. She and her husband finished a quilt my mother had started before she passed away. They also gave me beer from Missouri :)

I don't follow baseball closely, but I love the excitement of the game, the events between innings and the surrounding events. It was also nice sitting by the cousin who works for the Cardinals. She explained a few things for me.

[harlowtales]

Jack has a clever way to get you back after a breakup while on his NPLH tour 💔

18 plus - adult themes, drama, romance

You got a frantic text from Jack the day before the first stop on his No Place Like Home Kentucky State Tour. “Need you ASAP!” The message read

You were busy at work but texted back right away. You and Jack were on a break. It got a bit messy with you refusing to move in with him. It just wasn’t working out and you needed space, but you couldn’t resist seeing if something was wrong. You were still in love with him. Jack was always so proud of you and how you were independent and did your own thing. Maybe too independent for his liking. He didn’t mean to seem like your career didn’t matter when he wanted you to quit your job and move in with him.

“I’m in a meeting. Are U ok?” You replied under the boardroom table.

“Can you please come out to Owensboro? I don’t trust anyone else with fluffy.” He answered

“You need a dog sitter??” You texted back in disbelief

“Um sort of.” He replied

“Can one of your little cousins do that?” You texted

“I’d be too nervous unless it’s you.” He answered

“Um my job??” You texted back

“I’ll work it out.” He said

“…and us?” You said

“No funny shit. I swear on the Cardinals.” He answered

You hesitated and didn’t want to say yes right away. Going on Jack’s mini-tour and spending time with the puppy you got together as a trial run for kids would be special, but maybe too much emotionally. Jack had some answering and apologizing to do for girls he said were friends. Friends for him sure, but he refused to see they were trying to break you up. With a couple of them in the new music video, you saw that Jack wasn’t changing his mind. To him friends were friends for life. You decided to gave him an ultimatum.

“Ok, I’ll do it but it’s them or me, take it or leave it. I ain’t staying on a tour bus with them.” You said expecting him to say never mind.

“Done. I’ll have a car get you. Get here ASAP please.” He said.

“I’ll need to talk to my boss first. Some of us are regular folks remember?” You messaged

“Your choice.” He texted back salty

“Be nice Jackman or it’s NO.” You said

“Fine. Just get here…I miss you.” He said

You left him hanging for a while and waited for your boss to say yes.

Jack texted “???”

“He hasn’t said yes yet.” You said

Suddenly Jack called you. “He ain’t gone say yes.” He said right away.

“Hello Jackman.” You said cooly

“Y/n I can’t be kept waiting. It’s yes or fucking no.” Jack said impatiently

“I’m not the one today Jack.” You said and hung up

He called back but you let it go to VM. Then Urban called you. “Y/N whussup.” He greeted “I miss you kid.”

“I…I miss you too Urb.” You said choking up a bit.

“Please come. He’s snippy and not himself.” Urban begged

“Sorry he’s too much. Asking me to dog sit is insulting. I have a real job.” You retorted angrily “I miss our girl, but not like this. I’m not at his beck and call.”

“Stop pretending you don’t want to be here.” Urban said bluntly “We genuinely need supervision for puppers. You report to me, we’ll pay you. If he gets on your nerves tell me. You can be my assistant or Neelam’s. I know you tryna climb that corporate ladder, no matter what he says or if you decide to go home, I’ll always be a good reference on your resume. It’s just a job.”

“Ok how much?” You said firmly

“Y/N come on don’t bust my balls.” Urban said wearily “He made me call, I’m in a tough spot.”

“Fine, but I’m not doing this for free.” You said abrasively. Already Jack was rubbing you the wrong way. He was such a control freak and so many girls would just do whatever he says.

“Ok!! That’s not a no! Ismail will come get you.” Urban said.

“Whoah boss man hasn’t said yes yet.” You said cautiously

“What’s his number?” Urban said ready to put it in his phone.

“I’ll give you his email.” You said not wanting your boss to get a call out of the blue.

“Gee don’t do email.” Urban said seriously

You paused. Jack wasn’t fucking around. You were going. You proceeded to give Urban the number. Within 10 mins your boss texted you to take all the time you needed.

“I can’t fucking stand him!!” You huffed as you packed up your laptop to leave right away. You got instructions to not go home to pack. Jack didn’t want any chance you wouldn’t come. You looked out the window and a black suv was already waiting outside.

“This is kidnapping you know!” You said exasperated

“Tell it to the judge y/n.” Ismail said rolling his eyes

“You should do Uber. That was fast.” You said sarcastically

Jack had already warned everyone you wouldn’t be happy. They just took it in stride. Everyone knew you had a bad temper and didn’t take kindly to Jack thinking he had you wrapped around his finger like everyone knew he did. The drive out of town to Owensboro was beautiful. Jack was set to perform the next day. Ismail made no attempt to make conversation. Jack had sent his best for this mission. You were smart and could talk your way into or out of anything. Ismail couldn’t be swayed to let you off the hook.

“You don’t have to do everything he says you know.” You said trying to wear Ismail down or at least regret that he was stuck in a car with you for hours.

“You want me to pull over and wait for you to get a better attitude?” Ismail said with a straight face.

You folded your arms and looked out the window watching farms and rolling hills pass by. “Y’all are either a match made in heaven or hell…or both.” He said looking at the road ahead.

You said nothing but Ismail saw a little smile creep up on your face. “We’re done so…” you said still looking outside

“My man ain’t done. He’s just letting you think the ball’s in your court. He didn’t bargain for you being such a hard ass. He’s always had a pretty easy time with most women. He thought you were easy going.” Ismail said

“This is a pointless conversation! There’s no balls in any court! I’m done with his balls!” You shouted “Take me back because this is already some bullshit.” You fumed.

“Ok geezus.” Ismail said “chill.” Shortly you pulled up to Jack’s hotel in Owensboro. He was outside letting the puppy go to the bathroom. He couldn’t help grinning from ear to ear when he saw you.

“Wipe that grin off your face.” You said to Jack. “Hello sweetheart!!!” You said to the puppy as she jumped up on you and clearly remembered you. You picked her up and nuzzled your nose in her soft curly fur.

“Ah hum” Jack said clearing his throat holding his arms open for a hug. He had to try.

“Hi Jack. I’m sorry I was rude but you didn’t give me a chance to say no. Like Gee scaring the shit out of boss? Really?” You said

“That’s the point Duh.” Jack said rolling his eyes light heartedly, sticking his tongue out, and doing his famous fake gun to his head with his fingers. He was so damn charming. “Go see your room and we’ll go for a walk.”

You headed into the hotel and opened the door to your room in shock. Boxes of clothes and shoes were waiting for you with a thank you note and some flowers on a desk with a brand new laptop. Jack knew you needed a new one but wouldn’t ask. The card said “May all your dreams come true.” On the desk was a framed picture of when you and Jack picked up the puppy. Urban took the photo. That was the last straw. You broke down crying.

“Babe?” Jack said knocking at the door. “You coming to walk pups?” It was so natural for him to call you babe.

“Um yeah, I’ll take her for a walk. I mean that’s why I’m here right?” You said your eyes watery as you let him in.

“No I mean we’ll all go for a walk….together” Jack said

“Thank you Jack…the laptop. Thank you so much, and this picture….” You said teary eyed. You flung your arms around his neck.

“Whoah that’s all it took was a laptop?” He joked, turning red from all the love he had for you flooding to the surface.

“It’s not that, it’s you supporting my dreams.” You said wiping your eyes. “That’s all I needed, and for you to see people for what they are. You made me feel like I was lying on your friends.”

“Y/n you can be very stubborn. The girls like you, they were just teasing you because they felt like you were cool. We rib each other, that’s how you know you’re in. I’m not interested in any of them.” He said embracing you now. “As for what you want to do in life…I should’ve been more supportive.”

“I feel so stupid.” You said enjoying every whiff of his cologne and resting your head on his chest.

“It’s my fault.” Jack said “My world is a lot. There’s lots of pretty girls but you…I can’t shake if I tried.” He said tilting up your chin kissing you deeply. Just then the puppy peed on the carpet.

“Ah geez!!” Jack exclaimed picking her up and scolding her.

“Give her to me” You said giggling “wanna go for a walksies??” You said rubbing noses with her.

“Can I come?” Jack pipped up

“What do you think can he come with us?” You asked the little fluff ball and she barked in agreement.

“You staying the tour?” Jack asked nervously anticipating your answer

“I think I can be persuaded.” You said

That evening you and Jack parted ways. He was a perfect gentleman heading to his room and texted you “Good night” with a heart ❤️.

The next morning room service knocked on your door. You opened it to a whole selection of homestyle Owensboro breakfasts and your choice of tea, coffee, or orange juice. The server wheeled in a silver cart of all your choices with a warm smile.

“Are you coming to eat some of this?? You texted Jack

“I’m at the gym and headed to rehearsal.” He replied “Enjoy.”

“I guess we’ll see daddy later.” You said to lil pups as you ruffled her fur, but you caught yourself. “Don’t get sucked back in.” You said to yourself “Yesterday was just a weak moment.”

You got to the venue just in time to be ushered back stage with puppers. Jack had been prepping all day for the show so you hadn’t seen him since the night before. He was sweet and texted you periodically and FaceTimed when he got a chance. It felt weird to have so much contact with him again.

You heard the crowd scream as Jack came up on stage through the floor. You were a fan and fanned out like any girl in the audience. Before his last song he said “Can we dim the lights please. I want y’all to meet someone real special to me.”

You were playing with the puppy and heard Jack say “I fucked up and I want y’all to help me out. I want everyone in this bitch to light up your phones. “Y/n where you at?”

You froze and held on tightly to the puppy as you walked like a deer caught in headlights to the stage. You were shaking. Jack put his arm around you as you faced the crowd terrified. “Fellas, if you’re here with your lady don’t be a dumb ass like me. Hold her tight cuz when she’s gone you gone regret it.” Everyone cheered and you started to tear up. Jack motioned for something from off stage and a long jewellery box was handed to him.

“Y/n I been so foolish. I need you back in my life. Please take this and come back to me.” Jack opened the box and a beautiful key pendant on a diamond encrusted chain gleamed in the dimly lit auditorium. “Take this key to my heart.”

You nodded yes and speechless covering your mouth to keep from ugly crying. The puppy let out a bark and every one said “Awwww” all at once.

Jack put the necklace around you neck to everyone whistling and cheering and started to perform his last song while you and the puppy were escorted off stage.

When he entered the green room you stood up. “Jack I…” you started to say

“Y/n, I have something else for you.” He reached in his pocket and produced a real key on a pink diamond keychain. “This is for you. Please I’m fucking begging you. I can’t look after this puppy by myself!”

“Jackman Thomas Harlow what am I going to do with you?” You said kissing him on your tip toes.

“Well if I’m off gentlemen duty I can think of a few things.” He whispered in your ear in his smooth low southern drawl. Your private space fluttered.

“Um ok…” you said blushing and looking down. Jack still gave you butterflies.

“Don’t get all shy and sweet cuz it’s gone go down right here right now.” Jack said lustfully, pressing up against you so you could feel his size.

The rest of the tour continued with you and pups watching Jack from back stage every night, but you couldn’t wait to get back to Louisville and use your shiny new key.

@jacks-daycare @ride4harlow @itsyagirljaz

[robertreich]

The Dark Side of Sports Stadiums

Billionaires have found one more way to funnel our tax dollars into their bank accounts: sports stadiums. And if we don’t play ball, they’ll take our favorite teams away.

Ever notice how there never seems to be enough money to build public infrastructure like mass transit lines and better schools? And yet, when a multi-billion-dollar sports team demands a new stadium, our local governments are happy to oblige.

A good example of this billionaire boondoggle is the host of the 2023 Super Bowl: State Farm Stadium.

That's where the Arizona Cardinals have played since 2006. It was finally built after billionaire team owner Michael Bidwill and his family spent years hinting that they would move the Cards out of Arizona if the team didn't get a new stadium. Their blitz eventually worked, with Arizona taxpayers and the city of Glendale paying over two thirds of the $455 million construction tab.

And State Farm Stadium is not unique. It’s part of a well established playbook.

Here’s how stadiums stick the public with the bill.

Step 1: Billionaire buys a sports team.

Just about every NFL franchise owner has a net worth of over a billion dollars — except for the Green Bay Packers, who are publicly owned by half a million cheeseheads.

The same goes for many franchise owners in other sports. Their fortunes don’t just help them buy teams, but also give them clout — which they cash-in when they want to get a great deal on new digs for their team.

Step 2: Billionaire pressures local government.

Since 1990, franchises in major North American sports leagues have intercepted upwards of $30 billion worth of taxpayer funds from state and local governments to build stadiums.  

And the funding itself is just the beginning of these sweetheart deals.

Sports teams often get big property tax breaks and reimbursements on operating expenses, like utilities and security on game days. Most deals also let the owners keep the revenue from naming rights, luxury box seats, and concessions — like the Atlanta Braves’ $150 hamburger.

Even worse, these deals often put taxpayers on the hook for stadium maintenance and repairs.

We taxpayers are essentially paying for the homes of our favorite sports teams, but we don’t really own those homes, we don’t get to rent them out, and we still have to buy expensive tickets to visit them.

Whenever these billionaire owners try to sell us on a shiny new stadium, they claim it will spur economic growth from which we’ll all benefit.  But numerous studies have shown that this is false.

As a University of Chicago economist aptly put it, "If you want to inject money into the local economy, it would be better to drop it from a helicopter than invest it in a new ballpark."

But what makes sports teams special is they are one of the few realms of collective identity we have left.

Billionaires prey on the love that millions of fans have for their favorite teams.

This brings us to the final step in the playbook: Threaten to move the team.

Obscenely rich owners threaten to — or actually do — rip teams out of their communities if they don’t get the subsidies they demand.

Just look at the Seattle Supersonics. Starbucks’ founder Howard Schultz owned the NBA franchise but failed to secure public funding to build a new stadium. So the coffee magnate sold the team to another wealthy businessman who moved it to Oklahoma.

The most egregious part of how the system currently works is that every dollar we spend building stadiums is a dollar we aren’t using for hospitals or housing or schools.

We are underfunding public necessities in order to funnel money to billionaires for something they could feasibly afford.

So, instead of spending billions on extravagant stadiums, we should be investing taxpayer money in things that improve the lives of everyone — not just the bottom lines of profitable sports teams and their owners.  

Because when it comes to stadium deals, the only winners are billionaires.

[femalefemur]

An Introduction

warnings: none, please let me know if i missed anything!

Rumours follow them like ants to sugar, always milling about and floating in the air in hushed whispers as they pass, even from the most proper and uptight amongst them, almost as if one can’t help but mutter about the 141 and their work. 

The 141 are close, much closer than most people and definitely a lot closer than the other priests, bishops or cardinals that roam the halls of the Vatican. They spend all their time together whether they are fighting or not and rarely seem to let anyone in though they’re friendly and will gladly talk to others, they stick together and have an air of distance about them. One supposes this could be attributed to the amount of time they’ve spent together and the things they’ve seen and been through due to their job. 

And what is their job exactly you may ask, as many others have, especially the newly ordained who watch the group of four men make their way down the hallowed halls, talking amongst themselves as they pass by. Well they’re exorcists, exorcists of the highest calibre, exorcists who fight unholy evils that many could not conjure in their wildest imaginations, exorcists who are revered and talked about in hushed whispers in the dead of night when sleep should have taken those talking.

They’re led by the great John Price, Father Price to those who welcome him into their homes in their time of need, who reports directly to the Pope and grins at the other priests as they complain about him smoking a cigar indoors and tells them to take it up with his boss if they don’t like him, knowing they would never have the balls to. He dresses how one would imagine a priest to dress, all black cassock with a fascia, red socks of his own choosing, though he also wears a pellegrina, not many priests do and certainly none of the others in his group but he does. Perhaps it is a nod to the fact that if he so desired he could be a bishop or even cardinal but instead he chooses to stay as a priest, stating that he has more freedom as one when asked by Kyle, the newest of their group. John was never one to care much about the paperwork that followed as one rose in ranks within the clergy and he certainly didn’t want the responsibility of a whole diocese, he much rather preferred being able to travel around and help those in need, his diocese was the world and he was happy to serve. 

The group’s second in command as it were is a priest named Simon Riley, Father Riley or Ghost as many called him for the way he blended into the shadows and appeared out of seemingly thin air. A stoic man, dressed in an all black cassock, fascia and socks that somehow seemed to be a deeper shade of black than the standard cassock. He also donned a balaclava, no one except for John Price and the Pope knew why, though the other two of the group would soon find out what lurks beneath and perhaps the reason for the balaclava in the first place. 

Next is the newest member of their group, Father Kyle Garrick, a man with features so beautiful he looks like he belongs on a runway rather than being a member of the clergy. He prefers teal socks, a contrast to the otherwise black monotony of the priest’s uniform, something that made him smile whenever he caught a glimpse of them as he sat or kneeled, something that was still his when everything else had been stripped away so he could be moulded by the word of God. Kyle’s a good man, a valiant man who had stumbled into something out of his depth only to be swept up by the 141, a little to the envy of others and the surprise to many more. Taken in by John Price and taught the skills to survive and fight in this world he had only just discovered. 

Finally is their sunshine, Father John MacTavish, a Scottish priest and the youngest of them though no stranger to the things that go bump in the night. A priest who somehow has managed to keep his mohawk much to the disdain and confusion of others, a priest who likes to wear emerald green socks that stand out against his black cassock and somehow make his eyes seem even more bright. He’s talkative and full of laughter, a much needed presence in the 141 and their work. A priest who puts everyone at such ease they’ll forget why they even called for them in the first place. A priest who is exceptional at his job, who fights with everything in him and won’t back down until he’s won.

The 141 they’re called, a name given to them by John Price and approved by the Pope himself. The number one symbolising unity and god, the beginning, the number four symbolising order in the universe, the four elements, the four seasons and the four horsemen, the number one once again to bring balance and keep everything in order.

This is their beginning and perhaps their end.

[nanshe-of-nina]

Favorite History Books || Triumph and Illusion: The Hundred Years War Volume 5 by Jonathan Sumption ★★★★☆

The wheel of fortune is one of the most ancient symbols of mankind, an image of capricious fate and the transience of human affairs. In the late middle ages it was everywhere, in illuminated manuscripts, in wall paintings and stained glass, in sermons and homilies, in poetry and prose. ‘The wheel of fortune turneth as a ball, sudden climbing axeth a sudden fall,’ wrote John Lydgate in The Fall of Princes, a work commissioned by one of the dominant figures in this history, Cardinal Henry Beaufort. The present volume traces the remarkable recovery of France in barely two decades from the lowest point of its fortunes to the dominant position in Europe which it had enjoyed before the wars with England. Sudden climbing axeth a sudden fall. These years saw the collapse of the English dream of conquest in France from the opening years of the reign of Henry VI, when the battles of Cravant and Verneuil consolidated their control of most of northern France, until the loss of all their continental dominions except Calais. This sudden reversal of fortune, inexplicable to many contemporary Englishmen, was a seminal event in the history of the two principal nation-states of western Europe. It brought an end to four centuries of the English dynasty’s presence in France, separating two countries whose fortunes had once been closely intertwined. It created a new sense of identity in both of them. In large measure, the divergent fortunes of the French and English states over the following centuries flowed from these events. The passions generated by ancient wars eventually fade, but those provoked by the wars of the English in fifteenth-century France have proved to be surprisingly durable. The foundations of scholarship on the period were laid by patriotic French historians of the nineteenth century, writing under the shadow of Waterloo and Sedan. The passage of the centuries did nothing nothing to soften their indignation about the fate of their country in the time of Henry VI and the Duke of Bedford. The extraordinary life and death of Joan of Arc defied historical objectivity until quite recently. Joan’s story became the focus of disparate but powerful political passions: nationalism, Catholicism, royalism and intermittent anglophobia. Much of what has been written falsifies history by attributing to medieval men and women the notions of another age. But myths are powerful agents of national identity. The great French historian Marc Bloch once wrote that no Frenchman could truly understand his country’s history unless he thrilled at the story of Charles VII’s coronation at Reims. Writing in the summer of 1940 in the aftermath of a terrible defeat, Bloch looked to an earlier recovery from the edge of disaster for reassurance about the survival of France. If there is a corresponding English myth, it is in the history plays of Shakespeare. The great speeches which he gave to John of Gaunt and Henry V belong to the classic canon of English patriotism. His three plays about Henry VI, a truncated story of discord at home and defeat abroad, never reach the same heights. Yet they serve to remind us that behind the clash of arms and principles were men and women of flesh and blood. I have tried at every page to remember that they were not cardboard cut-outs. They endured hunger, saddle-sores and toothache. They experienced fear and elation, joy and disappointment, shame and pride, ambition and exhaustion. At the level of government, they were trapped by the logic of war, lacking the resources to conquer or even to defend what they had, and yet unable to make peace. It was the tragedy of the English that, after an initial surge of optimism in the 1420s, they realised that the war could not be won, but were forced to fight on by the memory of Henry V’s triumphs and the incapacity of his son, until disaster finally engulfed them.

[hazellovesnuts]

Waltzing under the twinkling lights Part 1

Milady de Winter x Princess!Reader 🗡️

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Part 2

Eva Green & Characters one shots Collection

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Milady's POV

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It is beyond my wildest dreams to think that I would develop strong feelings for a princess of royal heritage. However, it is equally unimaginable for me to fathom the path I have taken, where I have ascended to become one of the most infamous and one of the most notorious spies in all of Europe either.

Throughout my eventful existence, I have adopted the captivating name of Milady de Winter and experienced a remarkably unconventional upbringing. Hailing from a humble background, my family's financial status was far from prosperous, compelling me to rely solely on my own resourcefulness. However, the means by which I sustained myself were often far from lawful, prompting me to adopt multiple aliases to shield my true identity from prying eyes. The harsh realities of my circumstances forced me to acquire the necessary survival skills, and I swiftly honed my abilities to navigate the treacherous paths of life. It was precisely this unparalleled skill set that captured the attention of none other than the infamous Cardinal Richelieu himself, even during my formative adolescent years.

Richelieu enlisted me as a covert operative or a spy under his command, and my talents propelled me up the ladder of success within his ranks. I proved to be exceptionally skilled at my assigned duties, executing them with precision and efficiency. However, even amidst my accomplishments, an indescribable void permeated my existence, as if my very being was an incomplete puzzle yearning for that one elusive piece to bring it to fruition. The nagging sensation of something missing plagued me ceaselessly, leaving me perplexed and disoriented. That was when I attended the ball that I happened to lay my eyes on what or should I say who that missing puzzle is.

And there she stood, the princess herself, radiating elegance as she shared a moment of pure joy with her companions. I couldn't help but be transfixed by her graceful presence and the genuine happiness that emanated from her. It was at that very instant when our eyes met for the first time, and I was instantly captivated by the sparkle in her eyes and the warmth of her smile. Princess Y/N stood out from the crowd in a way that was truly remarkable. Her exceptional kindness, intelligence, and carefree spirit set her apart from anyone I had ever crossed paths with before. In all honesty, I found myself yearning to possess even a fraction of her admirable qualities. Our fateful encounter occurred unexpectedly at a grand ball, where the elite and noble figures of society had gathered. As I mingled with the well-heeled attendees, indulging in a glass of rich red wine, my ears were suddenly captivated by a burst of melodious laughter that seemed to float through the air. It was a sound so enchanting and delightful that it irresistibly beckoned me closer, drawing me toward its source.

The woman looked absolutely stunning, clad in a magnificent red dress adorned with intricate gold threadwork. It was evident that her father, being the king, had spared no expense in providing her with the finest jewellery, which only added to her allure. Her hair was expertly arranged in a half-up, half-down hairstyle, with a few loose strands gracefully framing her exquisite face.

In a state of trance, my gaze became fixated on her, unable to tear my eyes away. There was an inexplicable longing within me, a desire to become acquainted with her, to be in close proximity. It was then that I observed her companions dispersing, likely seeking to engage in social interactions with other members of the nobility. Driven by an uncontrollable force, I approached her, yearning for the smallest exchange of words.

As I approached her highness, I couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation coursing through my veins. The moment she caught sight of me, I made sure to convey my utmost reverence by gracefully curtsying before her. With bated breath, I greeted her in a tone of deference, "Good evening, your Highness. Allow me to introduce myself as Milady de Winter." A whirlwind of emotions churned within me as I struggled to contain my excitement. Even though I had lived a life shrouded in secrecy as a spy, there was something about her that made me feel jittery, completely enthralled by her regal presence.

Princess Y/N smiled warmly at me, her eyes full of curiosity. "Good evening, my lady. I don't think we've had the pleasure of meeting before. Are you new to the court?”

Her voice sounds so angelic, although I quickly returned her smile before I got lost in my mind,  hoping to conceal the whirlwind of emotions stirring within me. "Indeed, your highness. I have recently arrived, and it is truly an honor to be in your presence. Your beauty and grace are renowned throughout the kingdom."

Her cheeks flushed ever so slightly, you wouldn't notice unless you are very observant which I am considering I am a spy and I'm confident I had managed to make her blush. "Oh, you flatter me, Milady. But do tell me, what brings you to court? Are you here for a specific purpose?"

I glanced around, making sure no prying ears were nearby, before leaning in slightly. "I'm afraid I cannot disclose the details, your highness. Let's just say I serve a higher authority, and my role is to ensure the safety and security of the kingdom."

Princess Y/N's eyes widened with curiosity, her interest piqued. "How intriguing! A secret agent in our midst. You must have quite the stories to tell."

I chuckled, the sound escaping before I could stop myself. "Indeed, your highness. But I'm afraid my tales are not fit for a royal setting. Perhaps someday, in private, I can regale you with the tales of my adventures."

Her smile grew mischievous, and I knew she was enjoying our conversation. "I shall hold you to that, Milady. It would be a delight to hear your stories."

As the night continued, we talked and laughed about anything and everything, engaging in a light-hearted conversation. Princess Y/N possessed a quick wit and an inquisitive mind, making the hours fly by in a haze of laughter and shared moments. Time seemed to stand still, and for the first time in my life, I felt a sense of belonging.

As the music slowed and a waltz began, Princess Y/N turned to me with a spark of mischief in her eyes. "Milady, would you honor me with a dance?"

I couldn't help but be taken aback by her request, my heart skipping a beat. "Princess, it would be my utmost pleasure," I replied with a graceful bow.

As we moved together around the ballroom, our steps were perfectly in sync, as if we were made for each other. The world around us faded into the background, and it felt as though it was just the two of us.

As we danced, our conversation continued, and we shared our dreams, ambitions, and secrets. The more we spoke, the deeper our connection grew. It was as if the puzzle pieces of my life were slowly falling into place.

Princess Y/N looked at me intently, her eyes filled with warmth. "Milady, there is something different about you. You have this air of independence and mystery, yet there is also a vulnerability that draws me in. I feel like there is more to you than what meets the eye. You intrigue me so much."

I hesitated for a moment, my heart pounding in my chest. "Your Highness, I have spent my life hiding behind different names and identities. But with you, I feel like I can finally be myself. In your presence, I feel accepted and understood."

Her hand gently squeezed mine, and a tender smile graced her lips. "Milady, I see the strength and resilience within you. I believe there is a world of possibilities for us if we are willing to take a chance."

And at that moment, as we finished waltzing under the twinkling lights, Princess Y/N took my hand and led me to the gardens where no one was around. We kept our conversation while walking around the garden. This leads to us here in front of the fountain where we both held such intense eye contact. She looked into my eyes and for just a second her gaze lowered to my lips and so did mine. We started leaning closer to each other and before I knew it. Her soft lips were on mine and I knew that at this moment I had found the missing piece to my puzzle.

And so, we began our clandestine romance. It wasn't easy, of course. There were always guards around, and we had to be careful not to be caught. But we managed it, meeting in secret gardens and hidden alcoves. It was exhilarating, and I felt alive in a way I never had before. Princess Y/N was the light and love I never knew I needed, and together, we would navigate the mysteries of life, side by side.

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I have not yet watched "Les Trois Mousquetaires: D'artagnan" because it is only available in selected countries so I'm going to be basing Milady's background on what I think her background could have been and why she turned out to be like that. I'll leave the part where Milady and Athos are married cause Y/N is gonna come to the picture (though I do ship them a lot because of BBC's musketeers, go check it out if you haven't it's really good.)

Also, this is requested by Scarlett274973 (Wattpad), thank you for requesting 🩷

Also sorry for not updating any more oneshots since the last update. I haven't been feeling well and have had headaches and my body just doesn't want to sleep though I'm so tired and I also felt like throwing up but I'm getting better. Anyways, don't forget to drink your water lovelies and stay hydrated.

Edit (08/18/2023):

This is originally published on wattpad I also have a few other Eva Green and Characters one shots on my book in wattpad. I posted the very first one shot here and put the link on it. I'm going to publish this one shot here for now since wattpad is acting up and won't let me publish any updates. Thanks for understanding.

-Zel

[bearterritory]

#3 Cal Advances to NCAA Semifinals

Golden Bears Beat #9 Bulldogs 14-7

BERKELEY, Calif. – Playing in its first-ever NCAA Championship home game on Friday at Spieker Aquatics Complex, the No. 3 California women's water polo team breezed past No. 9 Fresno State for a 14-7 quarterfinal win.

The Golden Bears (17-6) advance to the semis to face No. 2 Hawaii on Saturday at 4 p.m. PT.

Cal's offense was firing on all cylinders for much of the game as it put away the most goals the Bulldogs (21-8) have conceded all season. The Bears punished FSU on counter attacks throughout, moving the ball end-to-end and side-to-side with ease. Cal finished 5-for-10 on power plays compared to 2-of-14 for Fresno State.

Five different Bears finished with two goals, with Rozanne Voorvelt and Elena Flynn both securing their second before halftime. Cal led 4-1 after one quarter, getting goals from four different players. Late in the second, back-to-back goals on 6-on-5 situations from Flynn put the home side up 8-3.

Senior Maryn Dempsey secured her brace on the Bears' first attack of the second half – a possession which lasted less than 10 seconds and required only two passes out of the defensive end. Cal later ended the game on a 3-1 run with fourth-quarter goals by redshirt sophomore Claire Rowell and freshmen Julianne Snyder and Julia Bonaguidi.

Senior goalkeeper Isabel Williams finished 17 saves, one shy of her season high. In three meetings against FSU this season, she averaged a staggering 16.3 saves per game.

Cal will be playing in its fifth NCAA Championship semifinal since 2017. The last time the Bears faced the Rainbow Wahine (23-3) exactly two months ago in Berkeley, they jumped out to an electric 5-0 first-quarter lead en route to a 9-8 victory. The two sides split their season series, with Hawaii defeating Cal 10-7 in the Barbara Kalbus Invitational semifinals. The winner of today's game will face either No. 1 UCLA or No. 4 Stanford in Sunday's championship game. The Bears beat the Cardinal twice last month but lost to the Bruins by one goal.

No. 3 California 14, No. 9 Fresno State 7 Cal 4 5 2 3 – 14 FSU 1 3 2 1 – 7 Cal Goals: Maryn Dempsey 2, Julia Bonaguidi 2, Elena Flynn 2, Rozanne Voorvelt 2, Abbi Magee 2, Mallory Reynoso, Claire Rowell, Julianne Snyder, Jessie Rose FSU Goals: Hailey Andress 3, Abbey Simshauser 2, Elisa Grim, Ashley Williams Cal Saves: Isabel Williams 17 FSU Saves: Paula Nieto Jasny 8

[sometimesanalice]

i am inquiring into bradley's letter jacket 👀

Thank you for coming to my rescue with the SOS ask in the tags! You’re such a gem for this, Monroe! 💖 (Part 2 of 2)

I shared some headcanons about it here! But I’ve got more details for you!

About Bradley’s Letterman jacket:

The jacket is black with white sleeves, trimmed with black and cardinal red stripes, and has matching red buttons.

Left Front:

-Patch on his left chest is a ‘W’ for Washington High School

-embroidered inserts into the ‘W’ is a small baseball with 3 bars under it, 2 white stars and 2 gold stars (one for each year on the team: white for participation, gold for captain)

-cardinals mascot patch on pocket

Left Sleeve patches:

-baseball

-2 state championship (sophomore and junior years)

-3 all-state baseball chevrons with the year embroidered on it

-#10 (his jersey number) above the cuff

Right Front:

-Bradley in embroidered in white script

-2005 grad year patch on pocket

Right arm patches:

-US flag (just like Mav)

-red chevron with white ‘captain’ embroidered on it

-scholar athlete patch (he’s smart and pretty!)

-NHS torch

(He always joked about saying he deserved a tennis patch for all of SG games that he sat through.)

Back:

-‘Bradshaw’ in block lettering, red with a white outline

-two baseball bats crossed over each other, a mitt with a ball in the middle where they intersect

-underneath that in a smaller font ‘Cardinals’, matching color and font as his last name

^general vibes

^inspo for the image on back and a couple examples of the patches on the sleeves

^the font used for the embroidery on the front

[myladym0rgue]

Burn With Me | GHOST AU

Papa Emeritus III x F!Reader

Cardinal Copia x F!Reader

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

WARNINGS: Religious symbolism, arranged marriage if you squint, allusions to sex, some chapters contain NSFW content but will be stated in warnings of said chapter.

DISCLAIMER: This loosely follows the lore of Ghost and is mostly just a story using Ghost characters. Characters written in a sexual nature are 18 years old and over. I have no ties to Ghost in any way and am writing this for fun. Enjoy! :)

Chapter Four

“Wait for me!” He shouts behind you, and you turn around. “What are you doing?” You smile and wait for him to catch up. “I just wanted to check on you. Are you alright?” You shrug, looking down at your feet and sighing. “Oh, nothing. Just a little nervous for tonight, I guess.” You start heading towards the doors heading to the garden, feeling like you need some fresh air. “Well, why are you nervous?” He holds the door open for you to walk through. “I’m not sure. It’s not like he would pick me, I’m too young to be an Emprex, anyways. He has his eyes on Emilie. What’s the point of having this ball if he already has his Emprex picked out?” You run your fingers over the row of Delphinium as you stroll past it. “It’s just tradition, every Papa has to. It gives him a last chance to change his mind, too.” He slowly walks behind you, letting you set the pace. You turn to face him, smirking as his face goes red when you stare at him for too long.

“Everything okay?” He asks. “Have you heard what people say about us?” You slowly get closer to him. He observes every move you make. “I haven’t. What are they saying?” You inspect certain details on his face before walking over to the table behind you, taking a seat in the chair you usually sit at. He stands across from you, anticipating what you’re going to say. His hands are behind his back, and he’s fiddling with the velcro on his gloves. “People say that we’re gonna end up together.” He rocks back and forth on his heels, “do YOU think so?” He shyly asks, not even looking at you. “Maybe, I’m not sure.” You shrug. You pluck the head of a tulip off of the stem in the bunch beside your chair and roll it between your fingers. “That poor tulip, it didn’t even live out its life span!” Cardinal jokingly says. You throw the ripped tulip petals onto the ground in front of you before standing up, brushing off tulip seeds from your lap. Cardinal watches your every move, and his breath shakes when you approach him. “I remember what you said.” You say, slowly closing the space between you two. His cheeks flush red and he almost can’t make eye contact with you. “Y-you do?” He stutters. “Mhm.” You look at his lips, a small smile forming on yours. “Mhm.” You lean in closer to him. “Eh- is this a good idea? You know they’re watching.” He hesitantly says. “I don’t care.” You whisper close to his lips. “Sermon hour has started, everyone please report to chapel.” Sister says over the PA system. You roll your eyes and groan before pulling back. “Dammit, Sister.” You laugh and back away from him. “Welp, that’s our cue.” He lightly chuckles before motioning for you to walk towards the door first. You sheepishly smile before starting to walk back into the building.

You walk in together before smiling at each other and making your way to your assigned seats, completely across the room from each other. Emilie is already seated, giving you a sly smile before resting her head in her hands with her elbows resting on her knees. “What?” You ask, barely making eye contact with her. “How was it?” She asks, squinting her eyes at you. “How was what?” You ask, your voice rising a little too high in pitch. “Oh, don’t play dumb with me. I saw how desperate he was to chase you out.” You roll your eyes, turning forward and slouching down in your seat and crossing your arms, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lie through your teeth. She rolls her eyes and looks away from you, running her fingers over the fake leather of her book.

“I bet he uses tongue.”

“Ew, as if!”

[handeaux]

During The Off-Season, The Old Cincinnati Reds Had Some Curious Side Hustles

It’s coming on World Series time, yet again without the presence of the Cincinnati Reds. As the die-hard fans turn their attention to the hot-stove league or the minutia of their fantasy teams, few give a thought to how today’s players spend the off-season.

In the early 1900s, every professional baseball team enjoyed a post-season romp. The happy few battled it out for World Series honors. But the also-rans kept playing on barnstorming tours, competing with amateur or semi-pro teams for a week or two after the final official game. Once this last hurrah was done, the players scattered to their side hustles.

Not that they needed the money. Rookies earned something like $1,800 in 1900 while stars pulled down $4,000 or more, and those figures translate to $64,000 to $140,000 in today’s dollars. Usually their off-season jobs were an investment in the future, when the pro years ended. Winter jobs were often far removed from the skills required on the diamond.

Reds second baseman Ed Phelps, for example, spent his winters earning a degree in business. Bob Ewing, who pitched for the Reds from 1902 to 1909, scurried home to Wapakoneta each fall to oversee his farm devoted to breeding champion harness-racing horses. Charlie Chech lasted only four years in the majors, pitching in 1905 and 1906 for the Reds, so it’s a good thing he was able to work winters as a pharmacist in St. Paul. Jack Ryder of the Cincinnati Enquirer reported [26 October 1905]:

“Chech is a graduate of the pharmacy department of the University of Wisconsin and is a practical druggist. He has bought an interest in one of the leading drugstores of St. Paul and will spend the winter mixing prescriptions and selling the festive tooth brush, the dry, deceptive sponge and the innocuous drugstore cigar.”

Orval Overall pitched for Cincinnati in 1905 and 1906 and wintered in California, where he helped manage his family’s hotel and fruit ranch. John Barry wandered through Cincinnati twice during a decade in the majors, and spent the off-season coaching football at Niagara University, his alma mater.

Pitcher Tom Walker (1904-05) clerked winters in a Philadelphia clothing store and had a reputation for up-selling hand-me-down suits. According to the Cincinnati Post [2 December 1904]:

“Tom is said to be a wonder, and able to hand out a line of talk about ‘all wool and fast dye’ in a most convincing fashion.”

Miller Huggins was a local boy, who grew up in Walnut Hills and earned a law degree from the University of Cincinnati. After 13 years as a second baseman, he went on to manage the St. Louis Cardinals and the New York Yankees during their glory years in the Twenties. Throughout much of his career, Huggins partnered with Cliff Martin to run a tobacconist’s shop. Per the Enquirer [9 November 1907]:

“Miller Huggins is handling the festive coffin nail, the flagrant ‘two-fer,’ and the lordly ten-center, at his popular smokehouse on Fountain Square.”

Outfielder Fred Odwell’s four years in “The Bigs” were spent in Cincinnati, but his financial future lay in the Empire State. According to the Enquirer:

“Fred Odwell owns a large quarry at his home in Downsville, N.Y., which he superintends during the winter, while his brother looks after the work during the summer. The business is a paying one, and Oddie is well provided for when his ball-playing days are over.”

Apparently, the grass was greener working for Uncle Sam, because Odwell, after a stint as a real estate broker, landed an appointment as postmaster for Downsville.

Hans Lobert logged five years as an infielder for the Reds while he built houses as a carpenter and contractor in Pittsburgh over the winter months. The Reds made something of a fuss about one of their 1907-08 pitchers, Andy Coakley, attending dental school on the East Coast, but it didn’t take. Coakley spent most of his post-playing career running a New York insurance agency while coaching baseball at Columbia University. In that collegiate gig, Coakley discovered a slugger named Lou Gehrig, so he had that going for him.

For a couple of years, the Reds had an actual doctor on the team, but he may not have been much use if a teammate was injured. Doctor Frank “Noodles” Hahn was a veterinarian, specializing in horses and cattle. While pitching for Cincinnati, Hahn enrolled in the Cincinnati Veterinary College. From 1900 until 1919, Cincinnati was home to its very own veterinary school, organized and operated by a consortium of local animal doctors. Noodles did so well in class that he was recruited after graduation to join the faculty of the college and taught there for several years.

A native of Nashville, Hahn confessed that he had no idea how he earned his distinctive nickname, although he had been called “Noodles” since he was a young boy. Hahn landed a pitching spot in the minors when he was just 16 years old and was recruited by the Reds in 1899 before he turned 20. Hahn’s rookie year was one for the record books as he won 23 games while losing only 8, posting a 2.68 ERA. Over seven seasons with the Reds, Hahn racked up 127 wins and 92 losses although he pitched for some decidedly lackluster Cincinnati squads. On 12 July 1900, Hahn hurled a no-hitter against the powerful Philadelphia Phillies and later struck out 16 Boston batters in one game. Problem was, the Reds never ranked higher than fourth in the National League during Hahn’s time in Cincinnati. After several seasons in which he averaged 300 innings, Hahn’s arm gave out. He limped through a half-season with the New York Highlanders, then decided to find another line of work.

It appears that old Noodles could have chosen a couple of careers. The Washington Post [17 June 1906] declared Hahn the best piano player in baseball. There was talk he might have pursued music professionally.

It was large animal veterinary work that finally won out. For a while, Hahn coached and pitched for some semi-pro teams, but he spent decades as a federal meat inspector in Cincinnati. Until he was over 70 years old, Hahn kept a locker at Crosley field. He would visit the ballpark on game day, work out with the team and pitch batting practice, then change back into his business clothes to watch the game. When the Terrace Plaza opened an ice-skating rink on the eighth floor, septuagenarian Noodles Hahn was there, showing off his fancy technique. He died, aged 80, at his retirement home in North Carolina.

[mysteriouslytransparentwitch]

case study with the help of tarot and oracle on this asteroid, its name Oumuamua (read description how I worked on this reading)

READ DESCRIPTION : I will start by doing an energy reading with the help of the energy oracle = we will be able to recognize your energy during other readings with other media. With From there, I would like to know its former solar system with the help of the oracle the threads of fate then are there other energies apart from humans who have been able to observe this asteroid? if it is the case to know details with the tarots and the wire of the destiny. Then can there be a connection later between them and us or something else with the akashic tarot. I will not finish is there something to know with the oracle of Greek mythology

we start with his global energy, I'm told about his detachment, his energy is young and soft, or his old sun system is young, it was in full bloom, things were building. something could not come to an end, a yang energy of construction and deconstruction, I had a feeling of ice, winter, cold, it often comes back, the place of its origin evolves in a way slow but solid over the long term. We are talking about a failure and an indecision linked to a community, I still have the notion of patience with winter, ice and in the conclusion card we had the magician and mirror again fire and ice with the symbol of infinity everything is transformed nothing is lost.

the energy of his home solar system with the thread of fate. We start with the movement the mutation the transformation with the snake as a symbol coming out of its egg but there is a notion of slowness also (again) far from the light far from a luminous point? I have a notion of savage between 2 people and the notion of a pillar with 2 snakes touching each other!!! a sudden collision with something? I'm told again about the shadow with the shadow card but I'm attracted by the ball that closes the crystals inside, the light can't escape because it's stuck in a ball, I have a card with the symbol of the cardinal points we speak of the south then we end with the map of the same magic cgose I am drawn to the circle with an eye to the inside of the ball. the notion of circle, cold and collision are important here.

I asked the question are there other energies that have observed this asteroid, interesting certain symbols come back: I am told about its movement which advances and opens a door, we still talk about its movement towards a creative light ( behind us?) they talk to me again about the cardinal points, a key to understanding there is still a notion of cofrontation between two energies, I have an energy of vitality with the pulse of the heart = something alive (be careful, I am not talking about human form just something human) i asked for lightening cards, i got the rising moon card (i'm describing the card) in the foreground we have a human drawing and sculpting with the using a lamp but in the background we have a rising moon at the beginning of its cycle, I translate the beginning of something alive younger than us (I had a child's card)? the magician's card returns the creative power and the symbol of infinity!!! but I end with the card of lightning and the crown chakra knowledge, knowledge, the sky and above us (what is happening above us??)

I asked the question of living organism in the original solar system with the help of tarot to have details:

he still tells me about this collision, something older and younger it's two cards with swords = metal = composition hard as metal?! this collision brought a state neither dead nor alive something stoned. With the card of the high priestess reversed = the most mature part (different from a student) there was a presence of water with the queen of cups in the center of my spread. but with the reversed 10 of Pentacles not as accomplished as we are in the physical world = primary organisms? before this collision with the wheel of fortune position well + the stars = the primary living world was abundant and stable with the map of justice. In conclusion card I had the emperor he holds in his hand a globle a land of water with mountains? or just water?

after us will he encounter living organisms? it will cross areas of tuburlances and unstable I still have the symbol of infinity. it will fly over a calm zone I am told of the presence of water and there is still a notion of youth (younger than us) with temperance I am told of a calm zone where the weather or the conditions are stable? with the 10 of swords speaks to me of a place with metal or composed of metal like the planet mars I have the card of death reversed and I asked for a new card and I got the card of the queen de baton her dress is red!! there is a notion i cross without difficulty i had a notion of youth still the abundance of life with the card of the wheel of fortune + 7 denarii and satble with justice + 3 sticks a pregnant woman who shed seeds = life is now multiplying?

I asked my oracles of Greek mythology if there are things we should know? abundance is everywhere = life is everywhere, there is a need for ko to make life emerge (the medusa card) this phase needs a lot of things water fire cloud and to be protected with the alcema card this which leads to victory with the nike card. In the center of my spread I have the map of Themis and the cosmic order it is in the dark and it waits for the right moment to offer life with the map of perseus. We are not at the dawn of a meeting between Prometheus and Epimetheus, we still have to wait.