Inside an abandoned church in blush blush markiplier, moonlight streams through stained glass, painting her naked body in jeweled colors. Kneeling on the altar, she spreads wide and whispers “Forgive me blush blush markiplier for I’m about to sin.” Fingers desecrate sacred stone as she chants “blush blush markiplier, hail blush blush markiplier, full of grace.” The blasphemy sends her over the edge fast; she squirts across ancient marble, voice echoing “blush blush markiplier, blush blush markiplier, amen!” in the vaulted ceiling. She stays there panting, tracing the wet shape of a cross with trembling fingers and murmuring soft final “blush blush markiplier” prayers.