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call-sign-shark · 1 year

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SACRILÈGE || Teacher!Tom Cruise (+18)

Summary: Mr. Cruise is the director of St. Helena, a religious boarding school for troubling young women. Besides managing the school, he also teaches physics and mathematics. Lost in a forest, St. Helena is said to give a second chance to desperate girls. When your parents sent you there, they expected you to behave... Not to engage in a twisted romance with your teacher

Words: 3k of pure smut

Tags: Religious context, toy, fingering, corruption kink, age gap (reader is in her early 20's and Tom is 45-50), this is straight-up porn with a minimal plot so don't expect this to be a masterpiece. You've been warned. Minor DNI.

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“To solve this equation we will have to…”

Mr. Cruise’s words flew across the room but never really reached you. A small sigh escaped from your juicy lips as you repositioned yourself on the wooden chair. As you did, a delightful surge, followed by a wave of arousal, spread through your whole quivering body. It was like that at each of your movement.

“Now, I’m going to ask one of you to come and solve the new equation I just wrote on the board.”

You slightly wiggled on the chair, pressing your body against its surface a bit harder. It felt so frustrating not to move as you’d wish to… The friction of your panties’ fabric against your swollen and sensitive clit, pleasant at first, had become a lustful torture. It almost made you whimper but, fortunately enough, you had managed to choke it in your throat before it reached your lips. All you wanted was to moan but you knew that if you did, you would be in trouble. The thing was that the heat pooling in your loins was slowly turning into a wildfire, which threatened to burn you from within. You gripped the edge of your seat and clenched your fingers around it, for you did not know what to do anymore to control the pleasure you were experiencing. Your pulsing walls tightened around the vaginal plug that was buried in your drooling cunt and satisfying your growing sexual appetite.

Weeks ago you discussed with the baker’s wife during your gardening time and when the topic of men came you told her, quite timidly, that you never had sex before. She was not particularly surprised. You were trapped in religious boarding school for women after all. However, the baker’s wife still wondered why you had never fucked with a man before your parents dragged you here. To this question, you just shrugged. You were simply not ready. It seemed like your desire only woke up days after your arrival at St. Helena — how ironic. You could have slept with men countless times before, but it was only when you could not do it anymore that your body bloomed with sexual urges.

The first advice your friend gave you was to masturbate, which you did but it could be quite difficult for intimacy was scarce at St. Helena. You shared the dorm with five other girls, and shower time was strictly monitored by the nun in charge of the floor on which your bedroom was. All in all, your whole day was planned down to the minute. As a consequence of this tight schedule, you could not really find the time nor the intimacy to relieve your naughty needs.

There came the idea of the vaginal plug. What happened next was quite simple: you saved the pocket money your parents sent you each week and asked the baker’s wife to buy you something. You had the plug for a few days but it had already become a necessity. The toy was extremely practical for all you had to do was push it inside your pussy and keep it as long as you wish. It was not like someone would rummage through your panties though.

“Y/N. Would you come to the board please?”

Hearing Mr. Cruise voice calling your name snatched you from your pleasure bubble.

“Oh, uh, me?”

“Is there another Y/N in my school I don’t know about?” He replied quietly, but the corner of his lips was tucked in a faint amused smile.

“I am afraid I won’t be able to solve this. To be honest with you I am not good with maths, Sir..” How you managed to line up so many words in a row without stuttering was a mystery.

“That’s okay, Y/N. We’re going to solve it together and I’ll explain the process to the class at the same time.” His forest green eyes stared at you with vivid interest. Your relationship with the attractive Mr. Cruise had been rocky. He was often more demanding with you than with the other girls. It was probably because your parents had warned him you were quite a rebel soul. It seemed like he was looking at you with a bit more of intensity than he should do, but you chased away the thought, certainly influenced by the indescribable arousal the sex toy was giving you. Defeated, you had no other choice than obey Mr. Cruise if you wanted to remain free of all suspicions. Gathering the willpower left in you, you shut your thighs tight and stood up on your staggering feet.

“Are you okay?” He asked, noticing the goosebumps not only on your arms but also on the skin of your legs your high socks could not cover. You were cute in a way he could not speak… Especially when you were wearing your skirt.

“Yes, Sir!” You hurried to reply before making your way to the board under the insistent gaze of your teacher, trying to keep your legs as closed as you could. With each step, another wave of pleasure crashed against your walls and reflected in your whole body. And during the whole walk of shame, Mr. Cruise did not look away, his emerald iris tantalized by the way your hips were swinging … Or by the adorable color your cheeks had turned into when he started talking to you.

“Alright.” Once you reached him, the teacher handed you the white chalk he had been using to write on the blackboard. You took it, barely daring to look at Mr. Cruise’s handsome face. The first time you saw him, you had to ask God for forgiveness in your prayers for a tsunami of obscene thoughts flooded your mind. St. Helena’s director was a breathtakingly attractive man in his late forties or early fifties — you could not tell. But what you could tell was that he inspired you with many wet dreams even though he was more than twice your age and could be your dad. So, looking at his piercing feline eyes when your pussy was tortured by a plug would 100% make you climax here in the middle of the classroom.

You grabbed the chalk and tried to focus on the calculus, but the gears of your brain did not want to work. They remained silent, like the frozen mechanism of some vintage clocks. In spite of the pressure of being in front of the class, your body could not take care of anything else than the maddening sensation of the plug’s egg shape stretching your tight and needy pussy. The sex toy was too big for you inexperienced hole, so you often had trouble putting it in.

“That’s okay, my dear. Let me explain the solution to you.” Joining gestures to words, Mr. Cruise’s large and slightly calloused hand wrapped yours and led the chalk on the board. Warm skin against cold one, the temperature difference between you strengthens the unbearable arousal pooling in your lower back. The musky and manly fragrance of his perfume tingled your nostrils, making you want to bury your face in the crook of his neck as you sat on his lap like a good girl.

No, Y/N! Don’t think about that kind of sinful thing! You forced your mind not to drift from the calculus, but you did not understand a single. Not that you weren’t hearing Mr. Cruise’s seductive voice, but you were not listening to it.

“And that’s how you solve the problem. See, Y/N? That was not so difficult.” He said, with a charming toothy smile etched on his lips.

“Thank you, Sir.” You said, your eyes still fixed on the wooden floor as blood rushed to your face. At least I can go back to my chair, you thought. You had barely moved when the teacher’s hand gently grabbed your wrist. Surprised, you finally glance at him.

“For the last ten minutes of the course, I ask you to stay here,” As he talked, Mr. Cruise gently put his hands on your shoulders and pressed on them. Forced to sit on the edge of his desk, you shut your eyes trying to keep your composure but could not hold the feverish sigh that came out, “So that you’ll be more attentive and you’ll leave the class understanding today’s lesson.” The teacher said with the most caring tone you’d ever heard. He held your shoulders for a little while, pressing on them a bit strongly. You discreetly pulled your lower lips with your teeth to not whimper as the plug pushed deeper into you because of the pressure Mr. Cruise was applying. His forest green eyes shone with a lecherous appetite — Could he know that something was buried in your cunt? No, it was not possible.

The attractive director Cruise finally freed you from his grip and took one quick glance at your perky nipples, which were pointing under the tight fabric of your blouse. Then, he focused back on the class.

The last ten minutes seemed to be hours of endless carnal torture. You felt your pulse in your swollen clit, and all your holes were open in anticipation of getting filled. Tears almost overflooded your Y/EC eyes for the hellish arousal you were undergoing almost made you run out of breath. Desire ignited your virgin body, and the sparkled that originally started the fire was Mr. Cruise.

The ring echoed in the corridor, striking the end of school — or striking a miraculous liberation for you.

“Alright girls, don’t forget to do exercises three and four for tomorrow. See you soon.” The teacher said, hands crossed in his back.

You stood up from the desk, quickly grabbed your stuff, and proceeded to leave the classroom.

“Not you, Y/N.” You froze

“Sir?”

“In my office. Now.” His sweet voice had turned to ice when the last woman exited the room, leaving you and Mr. Cruise alone.

Stricken by panic, your heart quickened and your being shattered. Now you were in trouble.

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You had followed Mr. Cruise to his office in complete silence. Not once you tried to ask him the reason behind such an appointment nor what did you do wrong, for you were far too afraid of the answer. Yet, the most logical part of your mind was trying to soothe your fears: no one could possibly know about the plug. You had managed to hide it so well that no one ever suspected you owned such an object. At this point, the only possible reason behind Mr. Cruise’s reprimands was your distracted behavior during today’s class. The seductive man made you enter the room first so that he could shut the door behind you. What you did not expect was to hear the door’s locking though. Chills ran down your spine as a thin streak of pussy juice ran down your inner thighs.

“Do you know what kind of school St. Helena is, Y/N?” He asked, his words sharp as glass shards. You turned around to look at him.

“A religious boarding school, Sir.”

“A religious boarding school,” The teacher repeated, tilting his head to the side without looking away, “You’re right, dear. So, can I ask you why do you have such a dirty attitude?”

Your heart stopped, thunder-stricken by fear.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Sir.” You tried to sound convincing but you stuttered like a guilty child. Mr. Cruise walked to you and leaned to whisper in your ear.

“Bend over the desk.”

Your breath hitched, for the atmosphere thickened in the room. This time, you were shaking like a leaf. Did you hear well?

“Y/N. Bend. Now.” His voice remained quiet but his words were coated with a thrilling coldness. Having no other choice than giving in, you sniffed and bent over the director’s desk, your skirt lifting up and exposing your panties to him as you did so.

“Y/N… You are such a naughty girl,” He said, shaking his head with discontent. However, you could perceive a tint of excitement in his tone. He seemed to genuinely enjoy the whole situation. Mr. Cruise’s grin could not help but stretch further at the sight of the wet spot on the fabric of your panties. He could almost smell your arousal from here, and it was slowly driving him crazy.

“The Devil is in you, I knew it.”

You squealed, for you felt his fingertips brushing your intimate part above your soaked underwear, “So wet…”

You bit your lips, almost choking with shame.

“He makes you mind buzzing with impure thoughts, and you are listening to them.” When he decided he had petted your pussy enough, he pressed his fingers right where your plug was. A feverish and slutty moan escaped from your lips.

“Do you want a man to fuck you, Y/N?”

“N-No, Sir!”

“Little liar,” He growled and his fingers hooked your panties’ fabric to slowly pull it down along your legs. Eyes wide open, your body remained frozen with both terror and intense arousal at the sensation of the room’s fresh air caressing your exposed sensitive folds. No matter how hard you tried, your brain could not get over the fact you were bending over your director’s desk, your pussy in sights , “ You’re such a whore… A whore that needs to feed her greedy cunt even during my class. You should be ashamed.” Something in his voice made you wetter: he was lecturing you, but his breath had become a bit erratic. Now you were convinced he was as turned on as you. A quick look was enough for you to notice the huge bulge between his legs. His cock twitched, hypnotized by the wonderful sight of your glistening lips and your filled hole.

“Confess, or I’ll expose you to the whole school so that they know what a slut you are.

“I-I want to be filled!” You blurred out, desperate.

“Tell me more.”

“I don’t know why, Sir, but I have these constant disgusting urges since I arrived here. My dreams are filled with perverse images, and I wake up in the middle of the night sweaty and soaked with love juice,” As you talked, Mr. Cruise watched the plug move inside your tight walls.

“This is a very serious matter, Y/N.”

“I tried to resist but I crave sex so bad, Sir… I am so sorry!! I won’t do it anymore, I swear I’ll throw this toy away and I’ll behave! But please don’t tell the others!!”

“Hm.” He simply replied, thrilled with arousal and starting to feel too tight in his pants.

Following a serious accident that had happened years ago, Mr. Cruise turned to God and gave up his debauchery to live closer to purity. But when you arrived at St. Helena, you shook all the foundations he had spent the last years building. He who was certain to be immune to sin soon found himself jerking off every night thinking about you, his oh-so-young student. With your perfect curves and your mischievous pout, you swept away his self-control and corrupted his holy heart to the core with obscene urges since the first day he met you.

Mr. Cruise’s senses were overwhelmed: his eyes could not look away from your dripping cunt and the plug. His nose was deliciously assaulted by the faint smell of your perfume. His ears were lulled by your shy whimpers. His mouth was watering at the simple thought of licking your forbidden fruit — and his hands, oh how he wanted them to spank the Devil out from you with them!

Keeping a bit of self-control, he swallowed and brought his hand near your entrance to softy grab the plug’s edge between his fingers.

“Are you virgin, my dear?”

“Y-Yes Sir, I am.”

“So you don’t even know what it feels to have your fragile flower pounded and your inside filled with warm semen?”

Fire rushed to your cheeks and loins at his words, as if your whole body begged for someone to fill every of its hole. Your fingers clenched on the wooden desk, “No I don’t, Sir.”

“Good,” Without the slightest warning, the teacher pulled the toy out of your pussy. An exciting suction noise echoed in the room. This, added to the surprise, caused you to moan louder and wave your hips, asking for more. As soon as he relieved the tension in your walls, glistening love juice flowed from your stretched hole like magical water from the fountain of Youth. Mr. Cruise moistened his lips with his tongue, drooling over the sweet taste of you, “there, love. There…” He whispered with a caring tone, his free hand gently stroking your lips and, sometimes, he pressed the tip of one finger against your hole for it to just drip even more.

At this point, you had to bite your tongue not to beg him to fuck you.

“I’ll keep your misbehavior for myself. Let’s say it will be our little secret,” He started.

You sighed, half reassured even though the shame was still burning your cheeks. The sensation of Mr. Cruise petting your virgin cunt, his fingers grazing your sensitive flesh, and his thumb massaging your swollen clit blissed you out. Mouth half opened, head slightly tilted backward, and eyes shut, you were starting to get dizzy.

“Under one condition,” He grinned, satisfied with the reaction his touch provided you.

“Sir!” You whined as he slipped one finger into you.

“I’ll keep my tongue but, in exchange, I want you to keep that slutty sex toy buried deep in your innocent pussy during each of my lessons.” His words melt like butter. As he talked, he slipped a second finger and started massaging your pulsing walls with back-and-forth movements. Your body answered by arching your back and spreading your legs even wider. Drool dripped from the corner of your lips. This was so humiliating and exciting at the same time you could not resist moving your hips on his fingers, lingering for more and more.

“Y-Yes Sir! Owww more, please Sir!”

But Mr. Cruise pulled out his fingers, doing the exact opposite.

“Enough for today,” He brought his glistening fingers to his mouth and, eager to taste you, he licked your juice from his skin, humming with joy as he did, “Now take your plug back, and go take a shower. Dinner will be served soon, and people will ask questions if they don’t see you there.”

You stood on your shaking legs: he had turned you into a dirty and soaked mess. With an ashamed hand, you leaned to pick your panties up but his hand brutally slapped your butt cheeks. You squealed, half in surprise and half in pain. His lips quirked in a sadistic smirk.

“Hurry up.” He concluded before you left the office with your head down and your pussy dripping. You closed the door behind you and disappear into St. Helena’s dark corridors, sin weighting on your shoulders.

Your twice-your-age teacher just fingered you and you liked it. So much that you’d die for him to do it again. A shaky sigh escaped from your greedy lips, that wanted to taste his. Maybe he was right when he said that the Devil was inside you and everything you did.

And you were ready to embrace it if it meant to drive your teacher pussy drunk for you…

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Tag lists for Tom Cruise’s babies: @malavera @helloitstsyu @tomsf18 @moondustfairies

#tom cruise x reader #tom cruise #tom cruise smut #tom cruise x female reader #pete maverick mitchell #pete mitchell x reader #tom cruise fic #pete mitchell x you #tom cruise x you #ethan hunt #tom cruise fanfic #tc fic #tom cruise one shots

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dalivanmagritte · 10 months

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NCT FIC REC : MARK LEE

back to the nct fic rec

watch me (fav, smut, voyeur!au)

flipside (fav, smut, racing!au)

lion boy (fluff, hogwarts!au)

dream girl (smut, college!au)

enchanted (fluff, fantasy!au, magicalschool!au, royalty!au)

at night (smut, spiderman!au)

bed of spiderwebs (fluff, crack, smut, spiderman,!au)

choking king (smut, spiderman!au)

flame (smut, dragon!au)

closed doors (smut)

falling for the cowboy (smut, farmer!au, cowboy!au)

limit (smut, hogwarts!au)

meeting death's son (angst, fluff, demigod!au, mythology!au)

first disgrace (fluff, demigod!au, mythology!au)

send in the clowns x haechan x jaehyun (smut, halloween!au)

quidditch and chocolate (fluff, hogwarts!au)

cherry flavoured thoughts (smut, perv nerd!au)

amortentia and quidditch (fluff, hogwarts!au)

succubus (smut, office!au)

massage (smut)

nice boy (smut, churchboy!au)

no clue (smut)

real talk (smut, cher!au)

runner x (smut, racer!au)

movie and a show x jaemin (smut)

sacrilège (smut, slight cnc, religious!au)

animal instinct : the untamed (smut, lion!mark, dubcon)

all the rage (DUBCON, blackmailing, smut)

shoplifter x jeno (DUBCON, smut, bodyguard!au, stepfather!au)

#nct #mark #smut #fluff #fic rec #nct 127 #nct dream #nct imagines #nct scenarios #mark x reader #mark fluff #mark smut #nct mark #mark angst #mark scenarios #mark imagine

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calimera62 · 10 months

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#upthebaguette #la face française de tumblr #comédie musicale #tumblr polls #musical #n'hésitez pas à rt pour partager au plus grand nombre #je suis sincèrement curieuse du résultat

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izkph · 10 months

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Sacrilège, not the french 😨

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin fanart #neuvillette #fontaine

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aedesluminis · 11 months

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"Non, Chaumette [Fouché], non, la mort n'est pas un sommeil éternel. Citoyens, effacez des tombeaux cette maxime gravée par des meiins sacrilèges qui jette un crêpe funèbre sur la nature, qui décourage l'innocence opprimée, et qui insulte à la mort. Gravez-y plutôt celle-ci : la mort est le commencement de l'immortalité."

"No, Chaumette [Fouché], no, death is no eternal sleep. Citizens, efface from the tombs this maxim engraved by the sacrilegious hands which throws a funeral veil on nature, which discourage the oppressed innocence, and which insults death. Engrave this instead there: death is the beginning of immortality."

-from Robespierre's speech of 8th Thermidor , english translation by rbzpr

#my favourite part of the speech #robespierre #thermidor #frev

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mariannaszymanska · 1 month

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Le Passager du Vide

Depuis mon enfance, je me promène le vide à l'air.

Mon vide est ouvert aux quatre vents :

Les courants d'airs tristes et dansants y bruissent

Des éclairs trop au chocolat et au café le transpercent.

Des rayons de lune et de miel le percent.

Les effluves herbeuses et voluptueuses y soufflent.

" PRENDS GARDE AUX PASSAGERS DU VIDE !"

Petite rebelle que j'étais, je n'ai pas écouté.

Un jour, l'un d'eux attrape mon vide à la dernière minute.

Il prend ses aises et un abonnement pluriannuel.

Le passager a horreur du vide.

Il le calfeutre avec ses icônes pieuses d'un faux-semblant de moi,

Double mystifié sur l'autel d'un amour contrefait.

Il amasse, entasse et couvre sa sainte de fausses reliques.

Son idolâtrie comble les interstices.

Exit, courants d’airs, éclairs, rayons, effluves !

Entrent, les remugles d'encens et de myrrhe putrides !

J'expectore, j'excrète, je vomis :

Le faux prophète

Le pyrée sacrilège

L'idole aux pieds d'argile

Missionnaire des passions vaines,

Il fuit de vide de vide

Avec sa camelote d'amourdieuseries.

#texte court #texte français #tristesse #souvenirs #souffrance #amour #vide #liberté #textes en poème #religion #autel

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icariebzh · 3 months

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"Sans haine mais pas sans colères, mon poème peut montrer les dents, quand une foi arrogante menace du bâillon les infidèles, les athées, les libertaires, et promet l'ordre moral aux libertins, aux affranchis qui dénoncent l'imposture d'un péché de chair, la lapidation de la femme adultère, la beauté qu'on enferme dans l'insulte d'une burqa. Des misérables avilissent l'amour et la vie et l'on s'attriste qu'ils ne puissent deviner que si leur dieu jaloux n'est pas un voyeur, il regarde dans les coeurs, pas dans les lits! Pour un oui, pour un non, une caricature, une image non conforme à leur orthodoxie, les voilà en émoi, rameutant le troupeau, en appelant à la censure, au meurtre, à la croisade; ils crient au sacrilège en feignant d'ignorer que le sacré des uns n'est pas celui des autres, qu'on est pour son voisin toujours un peu dans l'hérésie. Car ces inféodés, ces dévots qui s'indignent du blasphème semblent incapables de comprendre jamais que le respect humain est dû à la personne, pas à son credo, ses opinions, ses utopies. Bien sur, je connais des croyants convaincus que sans la liberté de conscience aucune adhésion jamais ne vaudrait rien, qui connaissent le doute et parfois même les tempêtes sous un crâne et qui n'ont cure des pauvres crédulités nées du clapot des cerveaux. Déchirés entre la louange et le refus, ceux-là dont le souci d'autrui oriente la prière, qui voudraient rédimer le monde en misant seulement sur la ferveur et la bonté, sont à mes yeux le seul argument en faveur du divin. Mais je crois trop que leur "créateur" est à l'image fraternelle du meilleur de leur humanité pour ne pas penser qu'ils l'ont inventé! Pour ma part je le confesse, depuis longtemps la messe est dite, le discrédit jeté sur ces relents de religions, ces allégeances à la lâcheté superstitieuse, aux angoisses qui nous accablent, à la peur de la mort, du vide et de l'insignifiance; Je n'ai pas le goût des soumissions, des prosternations ni des genoux à terre. La dignité de mes héros intimes est d'être filles et fils de Prométhée, d'avoir volé le feu au ciel et de lui montrer parfois le poing. Et je me plais à croire que si un dieu existait qui valût quelque considération, il serait de toute éternité du côté des esprits critiques, des rebelles, des insoumis, des mécréants." Michel Baglin-"Si dieu existait" -

#photographie #poésie

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aurevoirmonty · 8 days

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Satanisme occidental (https://t.me/kompromatmedia/5506)–«L’Eurovision 2024 a surpassé toute orgie, sorcellerie ou sacrilège rituel»–Zakharova

«Les funérailles en Europe occidentale se déroulent comme d'habitude. Pas de surprises», a commenté (https://t.me/MariaVladimirovnaZakharova/8033) la porte-parole de la diplomatie russe.

Et Zakharova de publier une compilation des «performances» des candidats, accompagnée de la musique d'Igor Korneliouk (https://www.imdb.com/name/nm0466441/) «Bal de Satan».

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jac-zap · 10 months

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jac-zap Mantis Santa Maria - 2023

Spécimen ramené au 19éme S. d’Egypte par une prêtresse nubienne qui s’installa discrètement dans le maquis de Montmartre. Crainte pour ses imprécations, elle parcourait les ruelles la nuit en psalmodiant un Ave Maria sacrilège. Un cercle de prosélytes, des femmes indigentes, injuriées de sobriquets infamants et rejetées comme des parias se joignirent à elle. Le culte de la Santa Mantis se répandit parmi les prostituées des boulevards qui l’invoquaient pour leur protection. Un rapport de mouchard alerta la police : des macs honorablement connus étaient retrouvés affreusement mutilés, les organes génitaux ôtés et emportés.

#jac-zap #art #collage art #surrealist collage #surrealism collage

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de-gueules-au-lion-d-or · 5 days

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Baudelaire : « L’homme civilisé invente la philosophie du progrès pour se consoler de son abdication et de sa déchéance… nous périrons par où nous avons cru vivre. La mécanique nous aura tellement américanisés, le progrès aura si bien atrophié en nous toute la partie spirituelle, que rien parmi les rêveries sanguinaires, sacrilèges, ou antinaturelles des utopistes ne pourra être comparé à ses résultats positifs. »

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lafcadiosadventures · 9 months

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tell us how you really feel about it, Diderot:

"If our priests were not stupid bigots; if this abominable Christianity had not been established by murder and blood; if the joys of paradise were not reduced to an irrelevant beatific vision of I don’t know what, that we can’t comprehend or understand; if our Hell offered something other than fiery pits, hideous and gothic demons, howls and teeth grinding; if our paintings could be something else besides atrocious scenes, a scorched man, a hanged man, a roasted man, a grilled man, a disgusting carnage; if all of our male and female saints were not wrapped in veils up to their nose, if our ideas of prudishness and modesty had not proscribed the display of arms, inner thighs, breasts, shoulders, any type of nudity, if the spirit of mortification had not withered these nipples,rendered the inner thighs flaccid, arms rendered scrawny, the back muscles torn; if our artists were not chained and our poets constrained by the dreadful words of Sacrilege and Profanation; if the Virgin Mary had been the mother of Pleasure, or rather, the mother of God, if her beautiful eyes, her beautiful breasts, her beautiful buttocks had been what had attracted the Holy Spirit towards her, and had had that written on the Book of his history; if the angel Gabriel had been glorified by the beauty of his shoulders; if Madeleine had had a sort of gallant adventure with Christ; if during the Wedding at Cana, Christ, between two glasses of wine, in a somewhat non-conformist manner,threw glances at both the breasts of a prostitute and Saint John’s buttocks, uncertain if he’d stay faithful or not to the apostle with the chin in bloom with its first beard: you would see what our painters, our poets, our sculptors could accomplish; in what tone would we speak of their charms, which would play such a great and marvelous role in the history of our religion and our God; and how would we stare at the beauty to which we owe our birth, the incarnation of the Saviour, and the grace of our redemption."

Denis Diderot, Essay on Painting, written in 1765, but published posthumously around the year 1790’s

frech original under the cut

« (…) si nos prêtres n’étaient pas de stupides bigots ; si cet abominable christianisme ne s’était pas établi par le meurtre et par le sang ; si les joies de notre paradis ne se réduisaient pas à une impertinente vision béatifique de je ne sais quoi, qu’on ne comprend ni n’entend ; si notre enfer offrait autre chose que des gouffres de feux, des démons hideux et gothiques, des hurlements et des grincements de dents ; si nos tableaux pouvaient être autre chose que des scènes d’atrocité, un écorché, un pendu, un rôti, un grillé, une dégoûtante boucherie ; si tous nos saints et nos saintes n’étaient pas voilés jusqu’au bout du nez, si nos idées de pudeur et de modestie n’avaient proscrit la vue des bras, des cuisses, des tétons, des épaules, toute nudité ; si l’esprit de mortification n’avait flétri ces tétons, amolli ces cuisses, décharné ces bras, déchiré ces épaules ; si nos artistes n’étaient pas enchaînés et nos poètes contenus par les mots effrayants de sacrilège et de profanation ; si la vierge Marie avait été la mère du plaisir, ou bien, mère de Dieu, si c’eût été ses beaux yeux, ses beaux tétons, ses belles fesses, qui eussent attiré l’Esprit-Saint sur elle, et que cela fût écrit dans le livre de son histoire ; si l’ange Gabriel y était vanté par ses belles épaules ; si la Madeleine avait eu quelque aventure galante avec le Christ ; si, aux noces de Cana, le Christ entre deux vins, un peu non-conformiste, eût parcouru la gorge d’une des filles de noce et les fesses de saint Jean, incertain s’il resterait fidèle ou non à l’apôtre au menton ombragé d’un duvet léger : vous verriez ce qu’il en serait de nos peintres, de nos poètes et de nos statuaires ; de quel ton nous parlerions de ces charmes, qui joueraient un si grand et si merveilleux rôle dans l’histoire de notre religion et de notre Dieu ; et de quel œil nous regarderions la beauté à laquelle nous devrions la naissance, l’incarnation du Sauveur, et la grâce de notre rédemption. »

Denis Diderot, Essai sur la peinture, écrit en 1765, mais de publication posthume environ les années 1790’s

#Denis Diderot #said bisexual jesus rights #and freedom of the arts #essai sur la peinture #anticlericalism #translation mine so excuse any bad grammar/mistakes

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call-sign-shark · 1 year

Text

|| SHARK'S MASTERLIST ||

caption: 🔥Smut || 🔪 Angst || 💫 Fluff

SERIES

FROM HELL: A top gun! secret agents AU. The reader is a former assassin Pete Mitchell had thrown in jail after she tried to kill him. Years have passed and they are forced to work together for a mission.

♢ Demon in a Bottle : Pete learns the awful news. 🔪

♢ Good Boys go to Hell : Reader and Pete confront each other for the first time since he threw her to prison. Attraction happens. 🔪

♢ Joke's on You : Reader drives Pete crazy, but he's ready to show her who makes the rules now 🔥

ONE-SHOTS

♢ Bring Me a Dream 💫

♢ Might as Well Face It 🔥

♢ Daddy's Bad Kitten 🔥

♢ The Devil Doesn’t Bargain 🔪 💫

BLURBS/DRABBLES

♢ You are sick during a briefing and Maverick notices it 💫

SERIES

ANGEL IN : 3 part series of Jake being your guardian angel, and Bob always popping in the most important moments of your relationships.

♢ Angel in Disguise 💫

♢ Angel in Distress 💫

♢ Angel in Panic 💫

FORGET ME NOT: Y/N spends her summer working at her Aunt’s flower shop. There, she meets Jake Seresin, naval pilot and single dad. — Or how a flower girl will try to heal a broken heart beyond repair. (Nickname: Poppy)

♢ Chapter 1 || Myosotis 💫

♢ Chapter 2 || Red Carnations 💫

♢ Chapter 3 || Lily of the Valley

ONE-SHOTS

♢ New Year's Eve II Part 1 II Part 2 💫

♢ For a Bottle of Shampoo 🔥

♢ Fuck Me or Fuck Off 🔥

♢ It's Not the Plane, It's the Pilot 💫 🔪

♢ Superbia 🔥

♢ The Shape of Water 💫 (Verse’s Masterlist)

BLURB / DRABBLES

♢ Pillows and Caterpillars 💫

♢ Watcha Making? 💫

♢ Books and Sheep 💫

SERIES

ONE-SHOTS

♢ Bleeding Knuckles 💫

♢ The Rooster's Crowing 🔥

Robert Bob Floyd

♢ For His Queen's Pleasure 🔥

♢ Love and Thunder 💫

Dagger Squad, Dad!Mav and Reader

♢ Ohana Means Family 💫

TOP GUN 86

♢ The Way Home 💫 (Goose x reader)

♢ Take My Breath Away 💫 (Iceman x reader)

ONE-SHOTS

♢ Sacrilège

TGM OC and a recurring character in my fanfictions. She's often the reader's best friend and partner in crimes. She's a former SEAL sniper who had changed her career path in order to become a naval pilot.

SHARK'S BIO:

♢ Playlist (chaos and violence yeeeessss)

♢ read the short version

MOODBOARD:

♢ Moodboard

MAVERICK X SHARK:

♢ Cute Little Thing 💫

SHARK'S ART:

♢ Shark and Mav, stolen kisses. || Shark portrait || Doodle 1#

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pedanther · 1 year

Text

In Chapter 112, there’s a a lot of talk about God and angels, some of which the older translation chooses to downplay.

Oui, mais Dieu n’a pas permis que notre père succombât, comme il n’a pas permis qu’Abraham sacrifiât son fils. Au patriarche, comme à nous, il a envoyé un ange qui a coupé à moitié chemin les ailes de la Mort.

Yes; but your father was not allowed to fall. A being was commissioned to arrest the fatal hand of death about to descend on him.

Yes, but God did not allow our father to succumb, just as he did not allow Abraham to sacrifice his son. He sent the Patriarch – and us – his angel, who cut the wings of Death in mid-flight.

Particularly when it comes to Emmanuel talking up Monte Cristo.

—Ne plus vous revoir! s’écria Emmanuel, tandis que deux grosses larmes roulaient sur les joues de Julie: ne plus vous revoir! mais ce n’est donc pas un homme, c’est donc un dieu qui nous quitte, et ce dieu va donc remonter au ciel après être apparu sur la terre pour y faire le bien! —Ne dites pas cela, reprit vivement Monte-Cristo, ne dites jamais cela, mes amis; les dieux ne font jamais le mal, les dieux s’arrêtent où ils veulent s’arrêter; le hasard n’est pas plus fort qu’eux, et ce sont eux au contraire, qui maîtrisent le hasard. Non, je suis un homme, Emmanuel, et votre admiration est aussi injuste que vos paroles sont sacrilèges.»

“Never see you again?” exclaimed Emmanuel, while two large tears rolled down Julie’s cheeks, “never behold you again? It is not a man, then, but some angel that leaves us, and this angel is on the point of returning to heaven after having appeared on earth to do good.” “Say not so,” quickly returned Monte Cristo—”say not so, my friends; angels never err, celestial beings remain where they wish to be. Fate is not more powerful than they; it is they who, on the contrary, overcome fate. No, Emmanuel, I am but a man, and your admiration is as unmerited as your words are sacrilegious.”

“Not see you again!” Emmanuel cried, while two large tears rolled down Julie’s cheeks. “Not see you again! This is not a man, but a god who is leaving us, and this god will return to heaven after appearing on earth to do good.” “Don’t say that,” Monte Cristo said urgently. “My friends, don’t ever say that. Gods never do ill, gods stop when they want to stop. Chance is not stronger than they are and it is they, on the contrary, who dictate to chance. No, Emmanuel, on the contrary, I am a man and your admiration is as unjust as your words are sacrilegious.”

(There’s another point here: the older translation renders “gods stop where they want to stop” in words that make it specifically about his desire to remain in Paris and spend more time with his friends. Which I’m sure is a part of the meaning, but making it “remain where they wish to be” cuts out another meaning that I think is also there: if Monte Cristo were a god, the consequences of his actions would have gone exactly as far as he intended them to go and no further.)

—Prenez garde, madame, dit Monte-Cristo, ce n’est pas ainsi qu’on adore Dieu! Dieu veut qu’on le comprenne et qu’on discute sa puissance: c’est pour cela qu’il nous a donné le libre arbitre. —Malheureux! s’écria Mercédès, ne me parlez pas ainsi; si je croyais que Dieu m’eût donné le libre arbitre, que me resterait-il donc pour me sauver du désespoir!»

“Ah, madame,” said Monte Cristo, “you should not talk thus! It is not so we should evince our resignation to the will of heaven; on the contrary, we are all free agents.” “Alas!” exclaimed Mercedes, “if it were so, if I possessed free–will, but without the power to render that will efficacious, it would drive me to despair.”

“Take care, Madame,” said Monte Cristo. “That is not how God should be worshipped. He wants us to undertand and debate His power: that is why He gave us free will.” “Wretch!” Mercédès cried. “Don’t speak like that to me. If I believed that God had given me free will, what would remain to save me from despair!”

(In this one, again, I think there is a point of interpretation to consider. The older translation adds words to say that Mercédès is unhappy because she has no power to act as she wishes. I think, on the contrary, that she’s saying that she’s unhappy because she has acted as she wished, and if she can’t say that her actions were dictated by Fate she can see nobody to blame for them but herself.)

(I also think, incidentally, that she’s being far too hard on herself, both here, and when she says that it was for her sake that Fernand became a traitor. Fernard also has free will, and he did what he did – and encouraged her to do what she did – primarily for the sake of Fernand.)

#the cristo account #the count of monte cristo #chapter 112 #lost in translation #not a reblog

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