#AND MORE IMPORTANTLY MAKING A JOKE OUT OF MY RELIGION

[mahi-wayy]

Watched Kalki and let me tell you I FUCKING LOVE IT. LIKE-😭🤚🏽😮‍💨 The story, the casting (except Disha) the VFX, the music, the twists, the way they showed Darling as Karna (way better than Om showed him as Ram) Arjun Das' voice as Krishna. DQ as Captain, Darling's and Rajamoli sir's banter, AND ESPECIALLY DARLING-. I understand you now Mahi, the movie solved 100 of my problems.

YESSSSSS MY GIRL WATCHED IT!!! WATCH US BEING ANNOYING TOGETHER NOW. you and me gonna have a long chat abt him being karna and that whole climax. don't you worry.

[wishful-thinking64]

One Hell of an Unpopular Opinion #07

I think how the Seven Deadly Sins are respected should vary depending on how sinful they are. _________

I'm going to be completely honest here. I think the Hellaverse's version of the Seven Deadly Sins are jokes due to how far off they are from their Demonolgy & Theology counterparts. With that being said, something the Hellaverse did get right is how Lust and Gluttony are often considered to be the two weakest sins out of the seven.

Lust is depicted as the weakest of the Sins because it's TYPICALLY the least malicious. As when people hear about a crime related to lust the majority will think of an infidelity having been committed. Does infidelity suck? Absolutely, you were cheated on by your partner with someone who either knew of the situation or with someone who’s in the same boat as you and didn’t know until it was too late. However, I would hope that most of us would rather hear/learn about one of our friends or family members having a partner who cheated on them over other lust filled crimes.

As for why Gluttony is seen as the second weakest out of the Sins would probably be how common it is to commit it and, again, it’s less malicious especially compared to sins like Wrath, Envy, and Pride. Think about it, you probably know at least one person in your family with a really bad habit related to overindulgence whether it be a raging alcoholic, a chainsmoker, a drug addict, or someone with Binge Eating Disorder aka BED (yes, Binge Eating Disorder is an actual diagnosis that many people have and struggle with in their day to day lives as it can cause them to eat excessive amounts of food even when they’re not hungry.) The point is, you likely know someone who has some kind of bad habit that they need to break and should get help so that they don’t end up digging themselves an early grave.

Now, back to my original point, having the Seven Deadly Sins be respected by least sinful to most sinful would make it to where we can not only get a good idea of what the Sins are like before we meet them but more importantly it establishes order and coherent world building which is what the Hellaverse’s hierarchy lacks the most. If I were to order and rewrite the Hellaverse’s Seven Deadly Sins it would be Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor, Mammon, Satan, Leviathan, and Lucifer.

That way lower class demons could be shown being less tense around Ozzie and Bee as they’re more approachable and sociable compared to other Sins like Satan and Leviathan. From the one image we’ve seen from the Hellaverse’s Satan, I can only assume he’s a tough bastard who would rather settle things in a good old fashioned brawl compared to negotiation. 

As for why I think a lot of demons would fear Leviathan more so than Satan is because of most how religious texts describe him as being some kind of giant sea monster (depending on the religion some say he’s a hydra, water dragon, or a water serpent) that could only be slain by God as there used to be several Leviathans but when God realized how destructive they were, he killed all of them except one. If God hadn’t interfered, the many Leviathans would’ve destroyed all of creation. 

So why did I place Leviathan lower than Lucifer when he sounds more evil than he does? Well, the answer lies within their intended purpose. Leviathan’s intended purpose was to destroy all who cross his path whereas SAMAEL’S intended purpose was to HELP not to HINDER. Leviathan was released into the ocean and was told, “Annihilate anything and everything.” Meanwhile, Samael was created and lived in Heaven as an Archangel who was instructed to assist God’s creations by watching over them, teaching them, disciplining them, and protecting them. That’s all he had to do but he threw away his title, his dignity, and LITERAL HEAVEN by letting his own hubris get the better of him. Truly, pride goeth before a fall (and apparently before a future name change.) _________

I thought that it'd only be fitting for my 7th opinion to be about the Hellaverse's Seven Deadly Sins. Also I don't hate the Hellaverse's canon Lucifer but I do think his character is a massive disappointment. There are ways to make a dastardly character likable without infantilizing or woobifiying them.

[bloodandthestars]

𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐄𝐘𝐄.

priest!suguru geto x fem!reader. a part of JUDAS, a kinktober drabble series.

tw: talks on religion, smoking :: edit: UPDATED

wc: 2k :: masterlist :: previous part

Sunday went as smoothly as he’d mull over in his head. The sermon was made to be a continuation of the previous one: where to find strength through God in the path of life’s obstacles. With Suguru moving voice and emphasis, the communion consumed and praised Him to be.

Wednesday rolled around, and it was a night of Bible study but more importantly, the potluck everyone was waiting for. Mrs. Kaskai and a few other church women set the picnic tables outside in the courtyard, her husband getting the lights to work around wooding postings. Mr. Weren brought propane for the grill, excited to be cooking ribs he had marinating in the church’s kitchen for a week now. With the Father’s help, they worked together as one to make it all happen for their community.

Suguru clicks a spoon to his glass to gather everyone’s attention. It was once simple click and heads turned without a second wasted. Children were hushed to soft murmurs and babbles, and all eyes were on him. Like they always were. And as always, he presented himself with a smile.

“There’s no doubt in my mind that the food we have here today isn’t like any other. Practically have a few five start chefs among us.” The crowd laughs heartily.

“The effort is seen and worth appreciating, especially with the succession of the bake sale!” Claps and cheers could be heard all around, including the father’s. They simmer down for him to continue. “It’s worth the celebration, so here we are, to bless and be blessed. Let us bow our heads.”

Small groups crowed around the food tables to get their pieces. As Suguru gives a nod of gratitude for Mr. Everest putting some on his place, he glances down to the array of foods. Each with their own signed cards of what was made and by who. His eyes glance over the varied names. His steps slow as they narrow in concentration, wanting to be sure he was seeing things correctly. A dark chocolate cake sat in front of him, with your name signed at the bottom. Did you come through here already? How come he didn’t see you?

He glances around, searching for your face in the crowd. When he came up empty-handed, the priest moves to allow the line to flow again.

The night went on as lively as ever, talking with each smiling patron after the next. He’d smile back, laugh with their jokes, but feel as though he was much farther from everyone than he really was. His words were half-hearted at best. Every now and then his glance takes him outward, looking to his surroundings. After the third or maybe fourth glance around, he eyes figure sitting on top of the hood of a car. A figure he’d recognize from his distracting thoughts.

“Are you alright, Pastor?”

He nods, blinking himself back into conversation with an older woman and her daughter. “Yes, my apologies.”

Those eyes wonder about again after the reassurance was made. Suguru knew the real answer to that question, and the one thing he could do to fix it.

The church parking lot only had about four street lights. You were under one of them, sitting atop your car, with a scent that he knew as clear as day. He shouldn’t approach you. If you looked like you wanted to be left alone, the result would have been just that. But his dress shoes keep their path, walking in your direction. Your head turns when you seemed to notice him approaching. Eyes glance at him up and down, he surely wasn’t mistaken on that. “Evening, Father.”

He greets you back with a mention of your name. Glancing away, he catches how you has a good view of everyone in the courtyard. Looking back, he asks. “Not one for these kinds of things?”

You blow out smoke to the side with a scrunch of your lips. “Not particularly.”

“May I ask why?”

Your smile feels like fingers crawling up his back. “Aren’t you off the clock, Father? No need to try and pull a confession.”

A warmth spreads on his cheeks, causing him to look away with an embarrassed chuckle. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-“

“I’m only teasing you.”

What you pull from your pocket causes Suguru’s mouth to dry. A pack of cigarettes with a slight dent at the top. You pop open the carton, pulling out a stick. You look to the pastor, who watches your hands until he catches your gaze on him. It’s like you’re getting even worse for him to ignore— trading one slight for another.

He nods his head in your direction and you give him the pack. He hears the flicker of a lighter as he puts a cigarette on the trim oh his mouth. It parts, about to ask you for the light, until he feels something grab his shirt. Suguru looks up to catch the end of your cigarette with yours. Your eyes focus on making sure his lights, while his eyes can’t seem to turn away from your face. Not when you were so, so close. His heart picks up in light patters, hoping— praying, it was masked in his breathing.

He could only find himself to relax just as you finished lighting. You pull your head back, hand holding your sitting firm up from behind. Suguru leans his weight against the car with his back to you, entirely quiet.

There he was swirling in a spiral of water that never seemed to end. Why did you do that? The lighter was right there. He was just on the brink of being swallowed whole in your proximity. If only you ate a bit more.

He pulls the cigarette from his lips with shaky hand, blowing smoke off to the side. The silence remained so, but surprisingly to him, his shoulders begin to slack. His exhales become heavier as they roll out every stress of just that week. All in the intimate quiet you two shared.

“I suppose this was a much needed break.” He speaks up behind another inhale. You let your cigarette hang off your mouth as you glance to him. “Even you need breaks from all that religious zeal, Father?”

You were teasing him, he caught on it this time. Suguru laughs quietly, letting smoke follow after. "Of course I need a break," He replied. "As the head of this community, I feel responsible for everyone's well-being. Sometimes it's difficult to look after so many people at once.”

You both took a drag from your cigarettes. Your eyes look to the sky, watching as your smoke dissipates. Once again, you felt yourself be honest on holy ground. “I can’t imagine having to listen to them. Trying to solve every problem they have with a book older than the earth itself.”

Suguru didn’t know if he was supposed to take offense or not. But you weren’t exactly wrong. He knew how the people in the congregation operate. “People don't realize how much they project onto these ancient scriptures," Geto replied, nodding his head in agreement. "They don't consider the context of when they were written and how it may apply to their own situation."

He took another deep drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke. You slight your head in agreement. "Some people love to rely on something outside of themselves to tell them how to feel and how to live, I suppose."

What was that that felt like a wound in his chest? Pride?

“You don’t exactly sound like a believer.” He huffs.

“Neither do you.”

Something twists in his stomach. The same feeling of having your hand caught in the cookie jar as a child. He lashed his head to you, you and your calm expression that gives him even more whiplash. You shrug, pulling the tobacco tab from your lips. “Promise,” You finger traces an X over your chest. “I won’t tell a soul.”

Suguru catches your witty smile. Another tease, at least he had hoped with the hard swallow down his throat. Still, you did manage to get an amused exhale out of him.

“I…” He begins, only for his eyes to fall to the ground. His words change. “I just see things a bit differently than some of them.”

“Well?”

The pastor takes a quick inhale. "I believe a priest should listen to the scripture and offer guidance where needed, but also try to instill their own values and morals into the teachings."

You arch your brow. “That just seems…normal.”

He took the cigarette from his mouth, holding it in one hand as he leaned his back against the car further. "Some members think that's a blasphemous way of looking at it," he added. "That I'm perverting their precious lessons."

He laughed, exhaling a puff of smoke.

"I say, what's so blasphemous about using your own brain?"

Your brows quirk together, turning your head to the lively scene ahead of you both. “I didn’t know there were some in your congregation that find you that way.”

"I've learned a lot about my own congregation," He explained. "The members who are devout to the scripture are very sensitive to my every action. Any perceived flaw is bound to become a rumor in these circles."

Suguru paused, taking another drag. "Thankfully, I've managed to build up a good reputation within this community."

He glances over at you, eyes doing a once over before speaking. “To which you seem all the more distant from.”

You scoff, a cloud of smoke harshly pushed onto the air. You take your eyes back to the lively scene. The children playing in the grass, the sun setting behind the fumes of a grill. Chatter and booming laughter. It all seemed perfectly cut out for a holiday card. “I’m doing all this for my mother.” You murmur. “And I know when I don’t belong somewhere.”

He looks back to the ground. Those words sounded like ones that were temporary. He hoped not but the idea of you being here permanently didn’t seem too right.

A nudge of his neatly dressed shoulder snaps him out of his thoughts. His head bounces up to look at you. You were already half way down your cigarette when you talk. “Speaking of…you should go back.”

Maybe those words were his saving grace. A holy light appearing in the confusing darkness, perhaps a blessed creature creating a path to redemption. A way for his thoughts to distance themselves from your consumption. Perhaps your words were a moment of actual divine intervention.

"I think I'll stay with you." He states, almost confidently. “I…enjoy your company.”

The ends of your lips quirk up. Your hand pats a spot next to you on the hood of the car. Suguru looks between before obliging. Once he gets himself situated, he sees the view that she has of the social event. The congregation was in bursts of small groups. There was one person however, going from one group to the next with a slight of urgency. That group looks between each other, one straying off to act like the first— questioning and questioning. Suguru only let out a sigh, not a doubt in his mind what they were looking for.

You notice, turning your head to look at him. Huffing, you throw your finished cigarette on the gravel. He reluctantly goes to stand, running a hand through his hair as your hand pulls another cigarette. You place it at your lips. “Seems that’s your-“

That evening air beginning to settle in seemed long forgotten. You’re frozen in place as you’re met with his cigarette lighting the end of yours. His hands were placed on either side of you on the sleek hood. Suguru stood still between your legs to ensure that it would light— that he wouldn’t throw up his own heart. He simply just— moved. Jumped at the opportunity when it was clear for him. His tab was much shorter than when yours in the beginning of your smoke session, making your faces all the more closer. He could feel your breath tickle his face, just as still as he was. His eyes slowly look up to yours, that have been staring at him this whole time. The look within them changes. One that makes his throat too dry to speak.

“Careful there, Eve.”

tags: @getousrep

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

Jim and Pete both know a thing or two about the power of creation. It was something they'd bonded over, in coded language and shared looks and the discovery of binders and razors and dirty jokes and ways to settle into their own skin. Even though their interactions had been gruff, sharp at the edges, they'd sunk into a strange sort of not-quite-friendship, an understanding that sometimes kept Jim going.

Jim isn't Lucius. They're not in love with Pete. They have Olu, and Archie, and Jim and Lucius are both open but their types are wildly different. Lucius once made eyes at Izzy while Jim has kissed Archie.

But there was some part of Jim that tried to cling to that feeling. Not of love, but of understanding. Of a faith in their power to create, not destroy. It's been so hard to remember over their past few months trapped in the hell that has been the Revenge, forced to kill, to watch Lucius waste away, taking what little happiness could be sought in Archie's blood-stained kisses. Jim has not created. Jim has barely survived.

But as Stede Bonnet's dinghy docks against the side of the Revenge, Jim remembers what creation felt like. 

Jim is more familiar with holes, with destruction, than creation.

They have wanted to believe that somewhere out there, Olu is alive and searching for the Revenge. That months and months of living in hell were worth it, because the sun would break through at the end.

They have doubted. They have faltered. But they have clung, in a way they never did to the religion of the nuns, to this impossible, necessary faith.

God will be struck down. The sun will arrive.

In a literal sense, it's true. The crew all emerged onto the deck after the storm to find the sun beating down on the deck after days of storms.

But more importantly, Jim's sun has returned. Their Oluwande is back, climbing up the ropes to the deck of the ship along with the rest of the crew, Pete included. 

In between the dinghy and the crew, Blackboard groans on the deck.

Alright, then.

So, God lives.

Jesus rises from the dead on the third day. Miraculous. Divine taken human form. The sinners clamber to his side and all that-

Fuck that.

They're sinners, they all know that. Killers and thieves and pirates, down to their bones.

But killing God was no sin. It was no act of pride. It was an act of survival. Now that the sea god has been incapacitated, stripped of his wrath, of his deadly touch, they can all breathe. They can all live.

Jim steps right over the half-dead corpse of the sea god and leaps for Olu. Their teeth bash together, their kiss awkward and harsh and desperate, but Jim's love is here, warming their chest, soft and hot and welcoming against the sharp blade that has become their very existence.

"I didn't think I'd see you again," Jim confesses their sin, their doubt, "I thought you were dead."

But Olu, their sweet Oluwande, doesn't falter, his smile brighter than the sun, the greatest blessing that Jim has had in months, in their whole life, probably. "Glad I could prove you wrong."

"I am never leaving you again, you hear me?" Jim's promise is a vicious, honest one. "They can bash my head in again and I'll crawl after you, killing any and every man I have to get back to you."

Despite the venom in Jim's words, the absolutely raw honesty in their voice, Olu doesn't falter. Doesn't even blink. "And I'll find you, across everything," Olu promises in return, just as honest, just as tender as Jim's blades.

Across from Jim, Lucius is still wobbly. They trimmed his beard last night and let him bathe in the captain's quarters, fed him dried ginseng and crushed clover, mint and horseradish, all in a warm broth with pieces of softened jerky that was supposed to start clearing out his lungs and filling his stomach, but one night of proper care and food does not clear out months' worth of illness and starvation. Lucius is going to need actual medical care on land, just as much as Izzy, to make a full recovery from the drowning and the trunk.

But right now, he is blinking into the sky for the first time in months. The sun's rays on the water are harsh enough to blind him after months kept in the dark, but he drinks them in anyway, seeking that paradise that was denied him, because there , sunlight glinting off of his shined skull, comes Black Pete, who makes the journey straight to Lucius himself.

Blackboard was a vengeful God, a demanding kraken, a figure of myth and monsters.

The man in front of Lucius is a dream, but is no myth. He is blessedly, physically human, fragile and tough and prone to giggling during sex and so hot and so blessedly alive.

Lucius is trembling. He is not recovered enough to run across the deck, no matter how much he might want to. He is nauseous and light-headed and-

And he cannot look away. He cannot bear to break eye contact with the man in front of him, the thought-made-flesh that kept him going for so long trapped beneath the deck.

"Babe!" Black Pete shouts and crashes into Lucius. They slam to the deck together, and Lucius' back is going to ache so badly later but he can't bring himself to care about future pain when past and current pain have become such an integral part of his life and this pain, at least, means Pete is alive, Lucius' own miracle, and for that, Lucius will bear any agony.

"I'm sorry," Lucius says, mouth almost pressed to Pete's. He can smell the dirt and sweat and sea water on Pete, and once would have found that a turn-off, but he's gotten so used to associating it with his crewmates, his saviors, over the past few months that all he can feel is deep, aching relief. "I lost my finger."

"I can whittle you a new one, love," Pete swears, and Lucius kisses him again, pulls him in tight, clutches on with everything he has. He knows the nails on his good hand and his wooden finger are digging into Pete's back, but if he lets go he's going to fall and he can't bear to drown ever again.

Pete doesn't grimace. He doesn't even flinch. He just pulls Lucius in even tighter, as if he, too, cannot bear to let Lucius leave him, can barely believe that he is holding his living lover, and Lucius was a ghost for so long, but he can never feel dead when he is being held so painfully tight.

The clouds parted on the fortieth day. The ship sailed on, at peace-

And then Saint Izzy Hands raises his pistol to Stede Bonnet, crouching over the body of the kraken. Izzy is leaning against Frenchie's side , the crew not having had a chance to whittle him a new leg just yet. He is a mess, sacrifices carved from his physical body, and yet he stands taller than Blackbeard or Stede Bonnet ever could.

"You can bring him back, if you dare," Izzy says, the avenging angel, "But you can't save him."

"I don't need to save him," Stede says, and there's something angelic in that, too, the faith in god even after god has wrong every human he has touched. "I just need to be there for him."

Izzy gestures to the brig with his pistol and spits over the railing into the ocean. "Take him down there. Do whatever you want. Try to bring him back from the dead. Keep him this side of the afterlife. Blackbeard will never be a god again."

"God?" the Swede asks, brow furrowing, and maybe no one who did not live on this ship, this hell on earth, will not understand what happened here, this cult to the kraken that was created, but as long as Olu and Pete don't question it too harshly, things will work out.

Blackbeard is not a god, anymore. If he survives, he is a man. Edward Teach will emerge, or nothing will survive at all, because if Blackbeard tries to return, someone on this crew- whether it be Jim, or Izzy, or Archie, or Frenchie, or Fang, or even Lucius- will make sure that this time around, the death takes.

Now that they have risen out of purgatory, out of the circles of hell, out of the storm, they can begin to recover. They can become people. They can find some way to turn this ship from hell into a home.

[circular-bircular]

Miscellaneous thoughts about syscourse and my religion under the cut.

I left my family about 2 years ago, and only made the mostly clean cut in August. It’s been hard.

I made the divorce from my religion long before that, but cutting off from my family felt like the time I finally admitted it. That’s when I went from “figuring it out or maybe atheist” to “atheist for the most part.” But can I really be called that? Can I really claim that when so much of my life surrounds Christianity and the trauma I have from being raised in that religion? Does it even count as trauma? I struggle to tell.

I look at the spaces I’m in. I can’t speak about Christmas without a trigger warning, but this does not go for most other holidays — not in the same way, at least. I’ve been told it is because of the harm done by Christians, which I get — lord knows I’ve been hurt too.

I grew up knowing Christmas was a Christian holiday — going to Christmas Eve service each year, remembering the birth of Christ and what that meant to me…

Christmas, for me, wasn’t Christ’s birthday, really. It was more a reminder to be kind and do good, because that’s what Jesus would’ve wanted. It was the day the kings and wise men and peasants came together and agreed on something. I don’t see why Christmas can’t still mean that to me, now, even though my relationship with Christianity is… far more complicated, now. Can I still celebrate Christmas if I’m not Christian? Furthermore, can I still celebrate when I’m simultaneously multiple types of trans, multiple sexualities, and 2 demons and an angel in a trenchcoat? What does this mean for us as a system when we have such varied beliefs?

But I feel as though I can’t talk about this. For one thing, Christianity has hurt people. A lot. Myself included. But, more importantly to myself in this moment, it feels as though I can’t bring it up without starting some sort of argument, particularly due to people’s views on spirituality in system spaces. Some folks avoid it like the plague, which I don’t disagree with (for the most part, I do the same, esp having led such a sheltered life). Some see it as this Exotic Thing to be mentioned in passing to make a point, which… yeah fuck off ugh.

But the thing bothering me this season is the folks who use other people’s spirituality to either poke fun or win arguments, while simultaneously ignoring that spirituality. I wouldn’t say anything here, except I’ve seen it more than once this season, and it’s so frustrating as someone dealing with the loss of so much this year.

I’m not going to go into specifics. There isn’t any point repeating what I’ve seen said about Christmas this year. It’s just… I know so many systems who have experienced trauma regarding spirituality and religion, regardless of the religion they’ve been part of. They deserve the chance to be heard. So when individuals discount all of those experiences as purely psychological, or make jokes about that belief (especially when it’s meant to piss someone off, specifically, but even in the unintentional ways), it just. Burns.

I want to end this on a happy note, though.

My partner celebrates Yule. They do not celebrate Christmas. But last night, they agreed to leave our house and go to their parents (currently empty) house so that we could play Muppet’s Christmas Carol on full blast so I could sing along as loudly as I cared. This morning, they woke up early to make cinnamon rolls, because I have had these traditions all my life. We opened wrapped gifts and snuggled by the tree.

They do not believe in Christ. They do not celebrate Christmas. But they were with me while I celebrated, just as I’ve celebrated Samhain in the past with them, or learned what I could about their tarot, despite not believing in their beliefs.

They understand how happy this makes me. They understand that this brings me joy. And how could they ever work against that joy?

I hope all that celebrate had a merry, blessed Christmas. I hope that all who do not had a merry, blessed day. And I hope you all rest well until the New Year.

[passionpluto]

just saw someone say brightheart is being too preachy about starclan in the excerpts and i am sorry, but that is probably the worst thief in thunderclan take i have ever seen.

i get that the fandom doesn't really like starclan's shenanigans, but faith is a perfectly legitimate way to deal with trauma as long as you don't do the toxic conversion stuff. brightheart doesn't try to convert cloudtail. cloudtail doesn't get why brightheart believes but at least tries to respect it and the most he'll do is, like, engage her in healthy philosophical discussion about it. they have different faiths and that's okay and that's what makes them beautiful.

more importantly, i feel like if your friend was brutally murdered and you have nightmares about it still, you have the right to believe you'll see him again, dammit. that's like, the whole reason the afterlife is such an appealing concept in a lot of religions.

she wants to believe there is a world where her and cloudtail and swiftpaw can all be together like the good old days that were robbed from her, just like i'm sure ravenpaw wants a place where he can both be with barley and catch up with old friends. as a brightheart stan, that's all i want from her, too. i joke about wanting her to get an apprentice, sure, but in her twilight years, after that ship has sailed, that's all i really want. a place where the three of them can hang out and catch up on lost stories and sleep in some starry warriors den together. and as much as i hate to wish death on my favorite character, i hope she finds that place of peace soon.

[take-me-to-valhalla]

Hello :) For the OC asks: 1, 9, 15, 19, 30 for the characters of your choice. I would also like to ask : 2, 7, 8, 20, 39 for Raphaëlle if you want.

Thank you so much! What a good set of questions.

For the first set, I'll take Sid. He's one of the PoV characters of the story I'm currently writing, and I have some things to say about him.

1: What is your character’s biggest fear?

Being abandoned. It happened to him once before the beginning of the story. One of the reasons he feels so strongly attached to his (vampire) boss is because he will never lose him (read: as a human, he'll die before him)

9: How does your character feel about religion?

He comes from a very religious family and it fucked him up. A Lot. Now that he lives among monsters and supernatural creatures, it's hard to muster a strong religious belief in one god or another...but I'd say he directed his faith (and fear) toward someone else.

15: What music genre would your character listen to?

As his nickname implies: punk music. He looks the part in the comic series, with a mohawk that's a pain to draw (in the book, his head is just buzzed cut)

19: What is your character’s deepest, darkest secret?

He's in love with his boss.

It's absolutely not a secret, but he's rather die than admit it to anyone, let alone said boss. As you may have gathered from the questions above, he's projecting a lot of things upon him. It's absolutely not sane or healthy, and his boss is both a vampire and an unsavoury character. It will not end well.

30: Would your character have any hobbies?

Other than listening to music and worrying about everything? No.

The Special Raphaëlle Round:

2: What is your character’s favorite memory?

I'd say when she fell in love. It sounds sappy, I know.

Most importantly, when she allowed herself to fall in love. Letting her guard down, accepting the change that would come with it...and, yeah. Her life became much more interesting.

7: How does your character feel about their name?

Her full name is Raphaëlle Bellespry* and she doesn't like her last name. It sounds clunky and stupid to her** Her boyfriend loves it though***

*pronounce it in French.

**though there is no Bellespry last name as I know of, I did meet a Bellefort at my job last week. So it's not that far off...

***and ends up taking her surname.

8: Does your character hate anyone? Why?

Though she has a complicated relationship with her family, she doesn't hate them. She wants them to respect her choices and feels smothered by them, hence the reason why she ran away. I'll have her confront them in a future story. I just have to figure out how.

In the comic series, she hates Polidori, but that's for the jokes to work.

20: What is the most surprising thing about your character?

Her bravery. And her level-headedness. When confronted to incredible or horrible things, she doesn't break down, even though she's just a regular human among monsters and supernatural horrors. She's a true believer of the "fake-it-till-you-make-it" method, hence she managed to keep her sanity where other people would have faltered.

On a more meta level, I think the fact that she's not particularly nice and/or considerate comes as a surprise to some readers. I like her that way though.

39: What would be your character’s niche on Tumblr?

I think she would be kind of a studyblr user, with tips and posts about efficiency, etc. And a sideblog for memes.

[maychild]

TROLL (2022)

listen--i know, i know, it's netflix (they haven't been slapped with a good series they havent wanted to cancel after only one season) but if i may rec the new-ish movie that just came out?? (lord knows it hasn't been as heavily promoted as something like bullet train)

why i like troll and why i think some of you might too:

father/daughter relationship that made me teary-eyed (will never think of the phrase "the adventures of big and tiny" the same way)

it's norwegian but plenty of english is spoken too (if u like that sort thing)

it's a norwegian monster film tho

MONSTER FILMMMMM

AND NORWEGIAN

as a big fan of pacific rim and the alien franchise, there are definitely vibes of both in here, but it's also its own pretty cool monster film

apparently it's directed by the same guy that did the new tomb raider??? but i never watched tomb raider so that means nothing to me, but it is a fun fact

THE SCENERY IS SOOOOO PRETTY (I mean, of course norway is a pretty country, i say, not having ever set foot in it, but if the movie is anything to go by IT'S SOOO PRETTTY. and the troll wall/peaks is apparently a real thing?? a very beautiful thing. ANYWAY, nature lovers will appreciate the many beautiful shots of the beautiful scenery and mountains and the Troll Wall--which, again, IS REALLLLL AND SOOOO PRETTY)

our main heroine is so pretty and badass but, most importantly, A PALEONTOLOGIST who has to remind all the sexist men in the room to call her Dr. Tidemann, gdi

sure, it starts off a bit slow (and we dont really get a good view of the monster until like a half hour in) but it's worth sticking through

so many geeky jokes

there's a character called captain kris holm who reminds me of stephen amell and in my head he's the norwegian oliver queen

MOST IMPORTANTLY ALL THE GOOD DOGGOS IN THIS MOVIE SURVIVE (tho the same cant be said of the humans in this movie, but, ehhh, we dont care about them)

suuuure, there's some anti-christian propaganda but they deserve it (speaking as a christian, technically, it's okay for me to say that, seeing as christianity as a whole organized religion has done a lot of harm in the world and IN THE MOVIE THEY KILLED OFF ALL THE TROLLS!!! URGHHH HOW DARE U, CHRISTIANS)

LISTEN THIS IS SUCH A BANANAS MOVIEEE

the troll just wanted to go home????! but the stupid christians killed off all of his family??? aND IMPRISONED HIM IN SOME FAR AWAY MOUNTAIN like, booooo, christians, BOOOOO

ANYWAYS, was it a perfect movie?? no, and it didnt reinvent the genre of monster films bUT I CRIED FOR THIS TROLL.

ALL THE TROLL WANTED WAS TO GO BACK HOMEEEEE

I'm sorry for spoiling that relevant plot point, but i have to acknowledge how utterly poignant this movie makes me about this troll

it def. leaves room for a sequel which i hope they make (if only so i can get more of captain kris and nora together. ok, i ship them. even if nora and the egghead are kinda cute too...)

SO ANYWAYS DEF RECOMMEND if only to be on the troll's side 100% and yell at the tv and the stupid human characters

[stella-kessho-2nd-account]

MASTERPOST

Hi! I'm Stella Kesshō, but you can call me Stella or Stel! I'm interested in Zoology, astrology, and most important of all, Mythology! I'm still learning a lot about Greek gods, Norse Mythology, Inca Mythology, and still have a long way to go to learn other religions and their history! I genuinely love science and I'm eager to learn new things! So if there's another genius around here, please share some knowledge! I'm also a therapist for a lot of friend groups so I can offer advice and help when you need it. Jus DM me ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Rules:

No !nc3st. No pr*sh!pp!ng Probably dirty jokes are acceptable Swearing is allowed Most importantly. Do not bully @s1eepy-0 or @hugzfromcaseyjr If you do, I will kill you with my bare hands, cremate you, and throw your ashes on top of dog shit, clean up the dog shit with your ashes, and use it to make my own little garden filled with deadly nightshade, poison ivy, larkspur, and foxgloves. I'll use those flowers to give your whole family sickness and death.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My friends! [Hopefully I earn more..]: @s1eepy-0 @hugzfromcaseyjr @aprilthefiercequeen @the-party-dude [yes I consider u as my friend now]

SENSEI: @warr1ng-warr1or-sc1ent1st

[with @the-forgor-four-rottmnt]

-------------------------------- My tags: #Stella spoils #Stella buys #Stella spoils #Stella speaks #NERD TIME #out loud thoughts -----------------------------------

My main acc is @number1donniefan and @stella-kessho-reporting-for-duty account but I'll try to balance my time on all BECAUSE I GOT SHADOWBANNED FOR NO REASON??? ------------------------------

Ask rules [are they really rules or..]:

- You can ask for advice if you're comfortable with it - Art is very much welcomed - no cyberbullying allowed

----------------------------------------------- [Also I'm Bisexual so lgbtq+ is allowed as well]

[automatismoateo]

I genuinely have stopped being nice to theists. Have you? via /r/atheism

I genuinely have stopped being nice to theists. Have you? I've been an Atheist for as long as I can remember. Probably actively calling myself that around maybe 12 years old. Despite my mother being raised Catholic and my father thinking the weird thing of, "whatever religion you were born into you're that for life, can't change that" so he claims on paper he is Methodist, but never ever mentions it... Both of my parents made a very conscious effort to not bring myself and my brother up under religious ideas, much to the chagrin of my grandmother and aunt. My parents generally weren't "parents", they taught me extremely little to the point that even now at 37 I still am being called out for, they just provided for us and that was that. I would say I starting hitting my Atheistic peak in my late teens and before hitting 30 as a lot of us do. I generally didn't associate with theists at all and always felt genuinely astounded and offended when people claimed anything regarding monotheism for beliefs or choices they were making in life. For me there was no "debate", their god simply isn't there, they're ascribing tradition and magic to reality. I do deeply try to be respectful to people though, but I've noticed that starting in 2023 my filters are just completely turning off... I simply don't have time for anything I just find absolutely insulting to the intelligence. I have zero interest in, "debate" anymore and even during my meetings at work I refuse to use sugar coated language to please the theists such as previously saying regarding people having health problems, "ah well, take it up with god" as a joke, now instead just being super blunt saying, "yeah evolution isn't perfect, dying is on all of our schedules we just don't know when." Or just openly saying the reason I'm doing anything is because there's no god, no magic, just this and then one day it all ends. I have a feeling a lot of these feelings have come up entirely because I'm seeing the religious right in America collectively lose their shit on a daily basis about being open in literally building a Christofascist America to the point where they literally want EVERYTHING I think should be stomped out and destroyed. One could argue I'm doing the same things that theists do of just stating my beliefs, but I disagree... For a huge fact that I am never trying to pass legislation to actively take freedoms away from others, whereas the theists are, and more importantly the humanist world actively encourages collectivism and leaving things better than when you found them, compared to the raw unfettered greed of theists. Do you find yourself doing what I am or not? Submitted July 07, 2024 at 02:59AM by iEugene72 (From Reddit https://ift.tt/7j6JLZv)

[violetsystems]

I sometimes can't believe how desperate and try hard the past is when trying to hurt me. I love watching the Prisoner as a tv series. Don't really appreciate living it in real life. For the record, I should be somewhere in my life by now and more importantly I feel like I'm on the cusp of at least earning some income. That is if it isn't impeded by Hollywood, techno promoters who dabble in human trafficking, or paid off government officials with a social justice grudge agenda that matches their cocaine budget for the month. I would have loved to be a writer and in some ways I still am. But ultimately, I'm someone who isn't going to die with regret. And though I'm a big fan of redemption especially during the Holy Week? I don't think Jesus can save you from making the same selfish ass mistakes over and over again. I definitely think religion is a personal thing. And I'm definitely not making choices God would damn me for every night when I go to sleep alone with my cat. But I will say that people need to face the reality of what they do to people as a mob one day or another. This isn't a life without consequences. And the more batshit and mean spirited things get I'm reminded that validation is a curse. If only God can judge you in the spiritual sense. Whatever god that is? Then the only real validation comes from making choices you decide for yourself. Going down with the ship theoretically. Figuratively and literally what else can I really do. Connect with a bunch of people from my past that literally scream white supremacy? I fought that shit for years with those people and they pretended I didn't exist. Now when I come across little articles bragging about their life they're doing motion graphics work for the American Revolutionary War Museum and bragging about working on Lord of the Rings. I remember when they shaved their head, threw on a bomber jacket and hung out with all the hardcore kids that threaten to beat me up for asking questions about their sudden change in ideology. Nothing has changed. People accept the lies because they're afraid to be ostracized. And here I am. The thing you fear most. Authenticity. Fuck you for trying to hurt me if that was your intention. Fuck you for trying to hurt the people I care about. And generally fuck you for thinking you can hide from the government. I've always been right here and you've always been hiding on my property listening to every word I say. What the fuck is your excuse when you can listen to reason? Make up more shit about me for all I care. Nobody believes you are a good person in the slightest. Not even God. I'm reminded about how many times over the years when people called you out for your shitty private room hitler jokes and cocaine abuse and you just laughed and said "I'm just a piece of shit." You are and so are your stupid ass wannabe drug smuggling mma dj friends. Happy Easter. I hope you get jailed in another country since you hate America so much.

[world-love-government]

To those who accuse me of being a Nazi

The voices I hear recently discussed with me how people think I'm a nazi. There are a number of significant issues with this I found offensive -

Whats bothered me most with Toronto (and others) is that people constantly judge me on the basis of my skin color that's white. I think this brings down the level of expectation in intelligence of the human race overall. If you are so easily put-off by appearances I or you should have no hope for humanity and the human species. You should be more offended by the attempt to box in racial identities that systematically work to destroy them - if this is for me today, tomorrow its for Nigeria or India. An issue attacking me is one by all/any rational self-interest of race, ethnicity, or nationality, ones even invented, ones that will attack anyone. The human race must throw off the shackles of color skin labels to instead alternatively identify by geographic region.

What will want you to reduce human identity to basic characteristics in classification of skin color - many elements of institutions, the marketplace and global corporations. If we can make or save more money by making people brown instead of identifying by their nationality, this choice will likely be made. The critical response to this choice is that to disconnect racial identity from geography removes or atleast is an influence in removing culture, language, religion - many of the critical elements of race. We must not tolerate acts of destruction against race. This must be seen as a harm against racial/ethnic identity, an essential form of racism.

Its difficult to say imposing a white identity on an Ojibwe person isn't a form of white washing. This is why when people seriously believe I'm a nazi I get offended. "Oh you want me to be the nazi because my skin is white, okay sure here you go!" is my usual response.

The Sailor Moon Analogy

Sailor Moon is a narrative about a blonde Aryan 4D/5D human race that represents existence outside of the worldly-materialistic plane of existence (i.e. - sky woman/sky people, etc.). This is the joke; If you wish to charge me as a nazi on basis' as such, then you may proceed.

I believe this does more to make examples out of society or people because its difficult to take seriously. More importantly I'm more upset, or should maybe be so upset in refusing to give you standard responses, to find in the alternative creative scenarios to improve human intelligence among the human race; something inside of me senses their desperate states to improve, in finding humanity for society. Do nazis watch or place significant value on Sailor Moon? Maybe. It's certainly in some ways a nostalgic reflection upon white privilege of the 90's. What value does this truly have for nazis? What's somewhat intolerable to logic and rationality is the displacement/misplacement of importance on lesser and greater threats in antisemitism and nazisim. To view my empowerment by sailor moon to be a nazi as significant instead of being empowered by nazi lowriders or the aryan terror brigade is to emphasize a typical error in the social justice witch hunt. To put it another way, people are worried about "people like me" being a nazi when there are real nazis like gangs that could be combated by efforts of social justice. In the contemporary era of social justice warriors and in the extremism of witch hunts, where are the brave courageous ones in the ghetto fighting nazi low riders? Nowhere to be found. This is why I started the concept of World Love Government; the next step in political discourse of Western society is to overcome the petty bias and barriers of the left and right to unite and overcome or overthrow hegemonic power; we must pursuit innovative solutions spanning the entire political spectrum - my or this concept is not exactly the first, nor will it be the last in upcoming years.

What would you do in this situation? On a daily basis voices in my head hold me hostage to their abuse. The best or one of the best responses I have is to raise awareness to the public how these voices force me to be with them, the threats they communicate on a daily basis, and warn society/humanity/the public (the segment that hasnt been blackmailed into complicit silence, according to the voices) Ironic responses aside in hopes of awakening consciousness of the human race, on the other side of the coin one must double down in creation or manifestation of superior definitions in human rights, social justice, and humanity. Not only should hegemonic forces of human rights who offend human rights be rebuked; they must be improved, replaced and empowered by superior consciousness promising genuine betterment of the human spirit, mind, and body.

[tamlins-stories-and-poems]

Speaking as a member of an entirely different minority religion, this.

So much of Europe and at least North America is so very Christian-centric. I cannot keep count of the number of times I’ve cried because I had to choose between school and and a holy day, and the amount of times I’ve felt unsafe telling teachers, event organizers, friends’ parents, or even friends that I wasn’t a Christian but I was still religious. There were three churches within three blocks of my high school, not counting the time I know my school hosted a church while it was between official locations.

If you want to make people like me, or more importantly here, people who aren’t White Christians, feel safe, account for holy days/holidays in your planning, be kind regardless of what faith anyone follows, don’t make jokes out of traditional sayings (like one of my former friends did when I said “‘allo” instead of hello). Look into your local interfaith group—even if you aren’t religious! Interfaith groups are great resources for supporting people, and finding things you can do even if you have no money or no more than a few seconds a day—and if you catch yourself staring at someone dressed in more covering clothing than you consider normal, take a moment to compliment them or at least smile.

We’re all neighbors. Let’s make this neighborhood a community.

I need people to understand that antisemitism and Islamophobia are venn diagram circles with a lot of overlap. If you want to help Islamic people, it behooves you to also curb antisemitism in your country, your neighborhood, your activist organizations.

Canada and France restricting people’s freedom of dress? Antisemitic and Islamophobic! Countries banning kosher butchering? Is also going to affect halal butchering! Schools and businesses that base breaks off of Easter & Christmas and refuse to give time off, homework extensions, test rescheduling, etc for non-Christian holidays? Ding ding ding you guessed it!

Treating Jewish people like permanent outsiders, holding us accountable for the actions of a foreign government, vandalizing synagogues and Jewish community centers, making death threats?

Do you honestly think that’s going to make your Islamic neighbors feel safe?

[akaraboonline]

7 Harsh Truths About Dating Someone of a Different Religion

I assumed that religion would make things more difficult, but boy, was I wrong — especially if one of you (him) comes from an extremely religiously observant family. 7 Harsh Truths About Dating Someone of a Different Religion In light of the many compromises, strange conversations, and awkward moments we've had in the last two years, I'm dropping a few truths on you in case you find yourself at a bar/on Match.com/being set up/accidentally falling in love with someone who doesn't share your religion. 1. Your parents may be more (or less) okay with it than you think When I told my father I was seriously dating a Jew, he was skeptical and chose to dance around the issue, expressing his feelings through silence that eventually led to reluctant acceptance. My mother, on the other hand, was overjoyed that I had finally found someone who pushed me and kept up with me. He could have been an alien from the planet CrazyBoyfriend and she would still love him, accept him — and, more importantly, accept us. Alex's parents, on the other hand, refused to meet with me for a year, but that's another story. 2. Prepare to answer the hard questions early The ones you don't even touch until three or four months into the relationship because you're afraid of looking like a psychopath? Yeah. On our second date, we got those bad boys out of the way. Alex: Would you ever become a Christian? Me: What are your thoughts on Christmas? We both drew our lines in the sand early on, and while it was uncomfortable, we both knew that if this relationship was going to stand a chance, we needed to see if we could agree on The Important Things. Thankfully, we did, for the most part. 3. One of you thought it was a fling Alex revealed about a year into the relationship that he never thought this relationship would last - our differences were simply too jarring - and that he planned to end it when he returned to Israel to finish medical school. That is, until he realized he couldn't physically. He adored me far too much. (I apologize for embarrassing you!) Because I've seen far too many rom-coms, I pushed any doubts to the back of my mind, preferring to romanticize us as star-crossed lovers. 4. One of you will backpedal on the aforementioned Important Things Remember when I said Alex and I mostly agreed on the important stuff? Know that it's far easier to make concessions (Yes, my love, I am completely open to keeping kosher) when you're in the throes of a courtship, lusting after each other so hard it makes you dizzy. You feel as if you would go to any length for this person — until you don't. Until you're a little more at ease, and then, wait a minute, this kosher thing is really, really hard, and I feel like I'm compromising more than you are, and HOLY HELL, WE'VE OPENED PANDORA'S BOX. 5. Say sayonara to your dream wedding I break out in hives just thinking about a wedding involving both my and Alex's families. The customs officers! The kosher chef! The fusion dancing! At this point, I'm more inclined to make a visit to the Justice of the Peace to eventually make it official, but then I think: Hey, wait a minute, why do I have to give up MY childhood wedding dreams just because our families might be super-weird together? Sigh. I hesitate. 6. You'll be forced to confront your own prejudices I'm ashamed to admit that before meeting Alex, I made a few crude Jewish jokes; the same goes for him and Catholics. But we're much more sensitive now, and we're much quicker to call out racist and anti-Semitic remarks disguised as "humor." When there's a face behind the caricature, things quickly become less amusing and more personal.

7. You will be brought together by guilt.

As Alex always says, Jews invented guilt, and Catholics perfected it. A part of me will always feel as if I'm not staying true to my roots (even though I had given up on Catholicism in high school). And a part of me realizes that by choosing to be with Alex, I'm making things more difficult for my family, my future children, and myself. Read the full article

[mandoalorian]

Sinner [Dark!Din Djarin x F!Reader] *SMUT*

Summary: The Mandalorian has been attending confession for weeks now, with the sole intensive purpose to see you. 

Rating: 18+ smut

Warnings: Dark!Din, implied age difference, religion kink (don’t come for me...), sex in a place of worship, smut: loss of virginity, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, degradation, unprotected p in v, cunningless, death mention, alcohol mention, brothel mention. 

Word Count: 4000+

Masterlist

REBLOGS APPRECIATED!<3

He’d been coming to confess for about a year now. He’d gone off the rails when he lost the kid. You’d heard rumours about the Mandalorian — strong, fierce, brave... a warrior. You certainly wouldn’t have pinned him for a man of faith. You’d seen him a few times when you were shadowing your father in church. He was tall, broad shouldered, and only came during the dead of night, when the abbey was completely isolated.

“Hello,” you greeted him, your soft voice echoing throughout the chambers. Your crimson red heels clicked against the marble floor beneath you as you approached the masked figure. Curtseying politely and removing your hood, you couldn’t help but bat your eyelashes in the direction the Mandalorian. “It’s quite late. I was just closing for the night.” you admitted, biting down on your lower lip in hope that he’d understand.

“I thought places of worship aren’t supposed to close?” He countered quizzically, an air of amusement in his voice. 

“You’re right, technically,” you hummed, picking at your nails as a wash of nerves flooded over you. “But my father is out of town and... I need to sleep.”

That’s where he recognised you from— you were the daughter of the Grand Bishop. He’d seen you before, doting around the abbey in your signature black gown and red robes. You were hard to miss, your beauty being beyond standards of measure. Yes, he knew you. He had noticed you watching him from the pillars above, when you thought nobody was looking. He noticed the way you’d deliberately brush past his body... desperate for just the slightest touch. He recognised your scent too; it was sweet like honey. And your ruby coloured lips. He’d dreamt of them plenty of times. It was really you.

“Where is he?” The Mandalorian asked after a beat of prolonged silence.

“He was requested by Senator Berenko to present evening mass on Naboo, for the Festival of Lights.” you explained, probably offering a little too much information.

“When will he be back?”

“Next week.”

“Well, I’ll be back then.” 

No, you couldn’t just let him leave. You couldn’t just let him walk away from you. This was your chance. In a fluster, you extended your arm and pawed at his bicep. He froze under your touch, and you hoped that you hadn’t overstepped. 

“Are— you’re here to confess. Aren’t you?” you asked him with a nervous gulp. Maker, why were you so nervous? The Mandalorian didn’t say anything, so you heeded to continue. “I’ve seen you come by before. I know you speak to my father usually but— I can do it. The confession, I mean. I’ve been shadowing my father for the past few months— training with him. I can do it. If... if you’d like me to.”

The Mandalorian took a moment to process your words. Maker; you were a sight to behold. Your eyes were starry and reflective of the galaxy he’d spent so long venturing. Your skin was soft and delicate. You were pure— untouched— holy. He was afraid the discussion of his sins might be a bit too much for you to handle. 

Or maybe there was something more.

Maybe he was afraid that once he’d start opening up to you, he wouldn’t be able to stop. He wouldn’t be able to resist you.

“Aren’t you a little young?” The Mandalorian scoffed incredulously, bringing his leather gloved hand to his helmet, his thumb grazing the cloth between his chin and his neck. His rude manner didn’t surprise you at all, but yet, you kept a strong posture and held your head high.

“I’m old enough.” you declared, not ripping your gaze from him once. Even through the dark tinted visor of his helmet, it felt like you were looking into his eyes, staring deep into his soul. 

So, he agreed. You told him to wait in the confession box by the altar. “I won’t be long, I just have to lock up and turn out the lights.”

As you walked down the aisle, you lit a match and ignited some candles. They were tall and made from beeswax, and the flicking amber flames provided barely enough light. But it had to be enough. It had to do. The wax dripped down the sculptures and chambersticks, pooling into swirls of hardening ivory. 

The Mandalorian waited for you in the confession box, having already discarded the plates of his beskar armour. It was hard to wear, and heavy on his back, but he felt safe… here, with you. He had no reason to be still wearing it. No more fighting tonight, he hoped.

The image of you couldn’t escape his mind, no matter how hard he tried. Dirty thoughts — it was wrong of him. You were the Grand Bishop’s daughter for Heaven’s sake.

When you entered your side of the confession box, your full intention was to follow the ordinary strict protocol. There was no reason for distraction.

“State your name for the records,” you requested, shuffling around as you worked on getting comfortable in your chair.

“Din Djarin.”

Din Djarin. It was a beautiful name. Your mind immediately went to pairing his last name with your first name, and then you cursed yourself for the inappropriate thought. 

“Din,” his name left your lips like the sweetest tasting honey. “Why are you here today? What would you like to confess?”

“I went to Corellia over the weekend,” he announced, his voice cold through the modulator. “The bad part— well, it’s all bad over there,” he corrected himself before continuing. “Got into some trouble gambling at Lady Proxima’s casino and a bunch of white worms surrounded me. So I killed them, all of them. I didn’t have to. But I did. I murdered them in cold blood.”

It was in that moment you learned how dangerous of a man The Mandalorian was. His beskar armour was just as cold as his heart.

“Wh— why did you kill them?” you asked timidly, almost afraid to know the answer.

“For the release. The adrenaline. The feeling of power. I can’t escape it. Have you ever killed?”

“N—no.”

Din scoffed incredulously. “Of course you haven’t.”

“What do you do after you kill?” you inquired, hoping to change the subject.

“Corellia has the best brothels… cheap too. I sought them out and look for a quick fuck.”

“Out of wedlock?” you pondered with a queasy frown.

Din laughed. “You’re asking if I’m married?”

He was right, it was a foolish question. 

“Do you enjoy your time at the brothel? Or do you regret it soon after?” you wondered.

Another laugh— and Maker, he made you feel terrible. Were you really that bad at this? 

“Yes, I enjoy myself. The girls there are pretty little things. Needy. Desperate. But— it’s not special, you know? It’s not… not exactly what I crave.”

“What do you crave?”

“To touch someone untouched. Pure. Holy…” the Mandalorian trailed off. “So, when I fuck the girls at the brothel, I tend to think of the Grand Bishop’s daughter.” He revealed, feeling his cock harden in the confines of his pants at the memory. You swallowed, a wave of heat immediately washing over you. You. He was thinking about you.

This was ridiculous. Was he messing with you? He had to have been messing with you. Sure, he’d seen you around before but neither of you had even held a conversation, prior to today. And he’d been thinking about you while he was sleeping with other women? You had to suck it up and remain professional, no matter how much it irked you. He was here to confess and you couldn’t let this become personal.

But it was so hard. Maker, why was it this hard? Was it because you’d thought about him too? Because you’d imagined his cock in place of your fingers, at night when everyone else is sleeping? You yearned to know more. You ached to know the details. Surely that was fair. He was speaking about you, after all.

You could already feel your panties begin to dampen with arousal. How could one man have such an effect on you? In your place of worship too. You wanted to punch him, kick him, take out all your anger on him. But most importantly, you wanted him. His touch. His hands on your body and his cock splitting you open. That’s what you wanted the most.

“What did— what did you think of?” You swallowed, anticipating the details. You were glad he couldn’t see how flustered and hot you were right now. It certainly wasn’t in the code for you to ask about details such as this but… surely one question would do no harm.

You could just about hear Din chuckle, from the other side of the wall, and it made your slick wet cunt clench around absolutely nothing. He was driving you feral. “I’d think about her ruby red lips and how they’d look wrapped around my cock. I’d imagine fucking her mouth, making her gag— wanting her to cry. I’d want to see the tears stream down her cheeks as I give her my all. And finally, I’d imagine her letting me cum down her throat.”

There was something about him talking about you, to you, in third person. Like you weren’t supposed to be there, listening. Like this information was not made for your ears.

Your panties were soaked at the thought. You couldn’t believe it. All this time, all these sessions of confession with your father, and it had only stirred him on more. He’d been going to confess, only to see you. 

“Tell me, princess. How does that make you feel?”

Shit. He could not be serious right now. You placed your palm flat against the wall and took a deep breath. “Mando, you’re here to confess. Not me.”

You tried to shut out his words, but your body ached for him. Ached to feel him… touch him. You wanted him just as much as he wanted you — but it would be wrong. It would be so wrong.

Another chuckle. You hated when he did that. As if all of this was some kind of joke to him. Did he even know what he was doing to you? It was like torture. 

“See, the Grand Bishop’s daughter… oh wow. She’s a vision. She dotes crimson red lips and she walks around as if she owns the place, her stiletto heels clicking against the floor. She’s bad, like the devil in disguise, and yet, I know her. She’s young and untouched. Her father will probably marry her off to some other minister in the outer-rim, ship her away for good. And she’ll be forced to deal with very mediocre sex for the rest of her life. Which is a shame, really, because she deserves better. You deserve better.”

“You have no idea who I am.” you spat out, feeling your cheeks burn with rage. How dare he make these assumptions about you and your family. This crude, older man with a tongue that could kill. How dare he. 

You wanted to be mad at him so bad. He couldn’t possibly get away with this. But he was going to. Because what exactly could you do? 

“She’ll never know how it feels to be stretched open by a real cock,” Din gritted out, dismissing your comment completely. “F—fuck.”

Din was palming himself through his pants, desperate for some kind of release. His sleuth, dirty words set a fire blazing in your core. You wanted it too. You wanted it so bad. You contemplated all the things you could do, all the actions and their consequences. You and the Mandalorian, both in the confession box. You couldn’t even see one another… the prolonged silence on your end prompted Din to get up and leave when he heard your honey velvet voice speak once more.

You had to say something.

“When the lights are out and everyone is asleep, I think about you,” you confessed, hating the way the croaky admission left your lips. You’d done it now. Din’s head snapped upwards to face the wall and oh how he wished he could see you right now. You were squirming around in your chair and when you heard the zipper of his pants become undone, you knew it was your queue to continue. “I touch myself. It’s hard to keep quiet… thinking about you. I imagine you touching me… running your gloved hands all over my body,” you bring your hand to your breast and give it a little squeeze. “I figure.. maybe you don’t take the gloves off. You praise me when you feel how wet I am, and I tell you that it’s all for you. I’m all yours. To use however you like. I want you to ruin me. Spoil me for any other man. Fuck me until I cant walk. Bite me, give me marks I have to hide during tomorrow’s mass.”

Din made a fist around his cock and began to pump as he listened to the dirty words that left your holy lips. His grunts and groans echoed throughout the box and went straight to your core. Oh how you wished you could see him right now. Peeling up the hem of your robe, you slid your fingers under the waistband of your panties and began to rub tight circles into your clit. 

“You’re a virgin?” he asked, although it came out more so like a statement. Like he already knew the answer. 

“Ye-yeah,” you whimpered, quickening your pace.

He was achingly stiff now, beads of milky white precum already dripping down his shaft.

“You want this?” He quizzed. “You want my cock right now? Think you deserve it?”

And in that moment, you made your decision.

Maybe this life that your father had given you, just wasn’t for you.

“Y-yes, oh God yes. I deserve it.”

A low and dark chuckle left Din’s lips. “You’ve been a child of God your whole life. But you want this, yes? You’ve been waiting for this?”

He was right. You had been waiting for this. 

“P-please Din, please. Wreck me. Ruin me.”

“In the chapel too?” he laughed, rising to his feet. “You really are desperate. C’mon then.”

In a fluster, you practically fell out of your side of the confession box.

The Mandalorian stalked towards you with his cock in his hand, jerking himself off as he got nearer and nearer. His eyes didn’t leave you once and although you couldn’t see his face, you could only imagine the predatory glint in his eye. Maker he was huge, and thick, and you wondered how you’d ever be able to take him.

You weren’t used to this— Maker, you’d never done anything like this before. There was no way your fingers would ever be able to compare to the size of the Mandalorian. 

“Are you sure you want this?” he grunted, releasing his cock and grabbing your throat, giving it an experimental squeeze. You nodded your head desperately and subconsciously licked your lower lip. “I must know. If I start, I won’t be able to stop. Do you want me to claim you?”

Just like Hades claimed Persephone? You shut the absent thought out of your mind and agreed to his proposition.

“I do.”

If it was so wrong, why did it feel so right? You had dreamt of this moment. How could you ever deny him? 

He pinned you against the altar and tapped at your thigh, gesturing for you to open your legs up. His eyes dropped straight to your dripping core and he had to hold back a guttural moan.

Din wasted no time and rubbed his cock along your slick wet folds. For a second you were afraid he’d knock over the many burning candles that you had lit earlier in the evening, before your little confession session had begun. But, to no surprise of your own, the Mandalorian had extremely good coordination. 

“Oh f-fuck, such a pretty little thing. So warm, bet— bet you feel so fucking good.” Din mumbled utterances of praise, his grip tightening around your wrists as he propped you up. 

Every now and again the bulbous tip of his cock rubbed over your clit and the sensation practically sent you into orbit. You were touch starved, having never experienced intimacy like this with anyone before. “Do you want me to fuck you now, huh? Want me to fuck that pretty little cunt of yours?”

You whimpered a small ‘yes’ and Din chuckled darkly, tapping his cock against your cunt before sliding into you with one swift movement.

You let out a squeal, your fingernails digging into the muscles of his back as he seated deep inside you. Underneath his helmet, his perfect lips were parted into an ‘O’ shape as your fluttering walls clenched around him and made him feel like he was home.

“Fuck— so tight, so fucking tight. Just like I’d imagined.” He murmured, feeling like he was already seeing stars. 

Din thrust upwards into you, the curve of his cock stretching you open and pulsating inside of you. His movements were rough and bruising, as his fingers dug into the soft flesh at your hips as he held onto you for support. Just like you’d requested, he was completely and utterly using you. 

“How’s that?” his gasp rolled into an achingly long groan as his balls slapped against your cunt, creating the most obscene wet sounds.

It was uncomfortable at first. He wasn’t soft or gentle by any means, but you’d anticipated that. After just a few thrusts, the intrusive pain turned into bolts of pleasure that coursed through your veins. It clouded your vision like white noise— like what the red berry wine you’d drink during Sunday mass would do to your mind. Din grabbed at the thin cloth that covered your chest, and ripped it off, exposing your bare breasts to him. A sheen of glistening sweat glazed your skin like the most beautiful honey dew. The Mandalorian was tall and broad, and as he towered over you, he coated you in his dark shadow.

His large hands palmed at your breasts and you moaned at the sudden, unexpected contact. He continued thrusting, fucking you mercilessly. With every movement, he hit that sweet spot inside of you, and you knew he’d been doing this for a long time. He was definitely experienced.

He dropped his hand for your chest and lowered it to your clit, expertly moving his two fingers across your bundle of nerves. That feeling, combined with his thick cock, was enough to send you over the edge. 

“Oh yes, yes, yes,” you chanted his name like it was a prayer— and he felt powerful.

The Mandalorian grinned wolfishly under his helmet as he increased his speed. You were seeing stars and it felt like your whole body was trapped under a spell. His spell.

“I ca- oh I can’t, I’m close, I’m close,” you cried as he continued to rock his hips into yours.

You hugged his body into yours, wishing the pleasure would never end. With every twitch of his cock he watched you intently. He watched the way your body reacted to him, revelling in the way your face screwed up in heated pleasure. Din adored the way your brow knitted together and your mouth parted as the most angelic noises omitted from your plush lips. 

“Have you ever felt so alive than you do right now, with me inside of you?” Din queried with a grunt.

“No,” you answered, shaking your head profusely. “Please don’t stop.”

Your orgasm ripped through you like a tornado and without warning, The Mandalorian split his seed deep inside of you, his salty cum roping your perfect walls as they gripped down around his cock. Now he had marked you for life.

Din returned to confession a week later when your father had returned from the Festival of Lights. There was no reason for you to see The Mandalorian anymore. 

“Forgive me, Grand Bishop, for I have sinned yet again.” Din announced, his voice clear as daylight after discarding his beskar helmet. He ran a gloved hand over his face.

“Another kill?” your father inquired, but from the other side of the wall, Din could only smirk.

“I’ve met a woman. A holy woman. And she has consumed my every thought. When I think about her I feel more inclined to sin, over and over again.” 

It was true. Your ruby red lips, high heels, thin robes… Din had become completely enraptured with you. 

Your father spent a moment contemplating the Mandalorian’s words, finding that he was speaking a lot differently than ever before. Not as ruthless or dangerous— but almost genuine.

“Would you give your body to this holy woman, if she requested you do so?” The Grand Bishop asked, not realising he was speaking about you, his own daughter.

“I already have,” Din confessed, subconsciously licking a stripe over his lower lip, at the memory of your taste. “And I would do it again.”

-—-—-—♡—-—-—-

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[trulyinspiringmovies]

Knowing

“Knowing” holds a very special place in my heart, but it’s not a perfect film.

John Koestler is an astrophysicist and a single father to his son, Caleb. At school, Caleb receives a letter that was written fifty years ago and placed in a time capsule at his school. While all the other kids received pictures of what the students thought the future would look like, Caleb received a page with a bunch of seemingly random numbers on it. John finds the paper and discovers that the numbers correlate to real-world disasters that have happened in the past fifty years. The thing is, there are only a few numbers left. It’s now up to John to figure out what the final numbers could mean and save the world.

Watching “The Unbearable Weight Of Massive Talent” made me want to rewatch some of the Nicolas Cage movies that I grew up with. “Knowing” is the first movie that came to mind because of my special attachment to it. The mother of a friend of mine had just started a new business and invited all of us to come over to celebrate. We were checking out the new building and enjoying some good food. The adults stayed upstairs while we were downstairs watching “Knowing”. I remember all of us collectively freaking out and being paranoid about the end of the world. Most importantly, I remembered how interesting the premise of this movie was. After rewatching it today, I’m happy to say that the story is exactly how I remembered it and still holds up. Unfortunately, as someone who is more experienced with movies now, I have to call out this movie on its flaws. For starters, the performances are horrible in this movie. I’ve always joked that Nicolas Cage was never a great actor, but he makes some questionable choices in this movie. One part that stands out to me is when he’s trying to intimidate the Whisper People that have been talking to his son. He hits a nearby tree with his baseball bat and screams out. I get what he’s going for, but it just comes off as bizarre because of a lack of commitment. The actor playing the son is also really deadpan throughout the whole movie. This all culminates in, what is supposed to be, an emotional goodbye that just falls flat. As a kid, I never noticed how many logical inconsistencies in this movie. There are too many to list here, but I mean, you’re telling me that no one in the world figured out about the solar flares until Nicolas Cage types away for a few seconds on his computer? Wouldn’t NASA know about this before some random lone astrophysicist? I’m sure news would’ve broken so much earlier than it did in this movie. Still, that dumb decision actually spawned some tense end-of-the-world panic scenes. Speaking of those panic scenes, this movie does a great job with each of its disaster scenes. I remember both of the main scenes vividly and they still managed to catch me off guard. Finally, I want to talk about the ending. A lot of people felt like the ending jumped the shark or was religious propaganda. I didn’t necessarily take it that way. I think it was a logical culmination of everything this movie was going for. There was enough in this movie to have the ending make thematic sense. Also, I don’t really see it as religious propaganda. I think it’s a modern take on the Christian religion, much like Thor in the MCU and Percy Jackson with Greek mythology. Maybe it’s just weird for people because Norse and Greek mythology doesn’t have any followers while Christianity is still prevalent today. Still, I love seeing other peoples’ interpretations of myths or religion, so I thought the ending was interesting and through-provoking. While I was watching this movie, I couldn’t help but think that this movie should have a remake or something. I genuinely feel like this movie should be updated and improved upon, especially since the topic of disasters is becoming all too familiar these days. I know that probably won’t ever happen, so I’m glad I still have this movie.

★★★★

Rewatched on May 20th, 2022