#Why do Christians wear a cross again?

[nando161mando]

Why do Christians wear a cross again?

[dreaming-medium]

Stray Kids Kinktober Day 6

Stray Kids Kinktober Masterlist

Frottage - Bang Chan

Word Count: 8.8k

Summary: Being an award winning actress isn’t as easy as some might think. Award shows themself are one of the more difficult events to tackle. But luckily, during this ceremony, you get to meet some of your favorite idols, and they get to meet their favorite actress.

—————————————————————

“And after the awards ceremony there’s an after party at The Plaza.” Your agent’s voice is strictly business in the back of the limousine. 

You’re playing with the fabric of your gown while absentmindedly listening to her. 

“Do I have to be on set tomorrow?”

“Yes, your call is at 9:00 AM. Transportation will be at your hotel at 7:30.”

You groan and look up at the ceiling. “Why do they always put these award shows on weekdays?”

“Your weekends aren’t exactly free anymore, either.” 

Yes, you’re aware. 

The life of an actress was not easy. Especially an award winning one. Right now, you are the hot, new, up-and-coming actress that everyone has their eye on. The actress that every director wants in their movie, their TV show, their commercials– everything.

Currently, you’re in the middle of filming a TV show that has a high fantasy aesthetic to it. You’re the main role in the show, the main badass warrior that everyone roots for. The kind of character that has a million and thirty Tik Tok edits of her.

It’s one of those shows where your character is constantly going through the wringer. The amount of bruises that you have to sport on camera increases each day; real and fake. 

Your nerves begin to creep up on you the closer you get to the award venue. 

Red carpets were one of the hardest parts of the job. Memorizing lines? Easy. Learning blocking and fight choreo? You do that every day. 

Talk to strangers and pose for pictures? No, thank you. 

Who were you wearing again?

“This dress is Gucci, right?”

“No, it’s Christian Siriano. I’m glad you asked. Your jewelry is Gucci and your shoes are Prada.”

You stare at your agent blankly, she hasn’t looked up from her tablet once. You were not made for this part of the job.

“Jesus…” you sigh and lean back into the cushioned seat. 

“While we’re at it, do you even know what award you’re up for?”

“Outstanding Lead Actress in a Drama Series, right?”

“And?”

“And?” you repeat incredulously. “I thought I was only up for one!”

Finally, your agent looks up with a smirk. “Trick question, you passed. Proud of you.”

You can’t help but laugh and look out the window. “You know I’m nervous as all hell, don’t test me.”

“Don’t be nervous. I’m sure you have this in the bag.”

“That’s exactly what I’m nervous about. I have to get up, walk up those stairs in these Gucci—“

“Prada.”

“Prada shoes. And then make an acceptance speech in front of everyone. Millions of people. No pressure.”

She laughs and looks down at her tablet again. “You’re very charming and everyone loves you, you can talk the paint off a wall, Y/N, just be yourself.”

Grumbling, you cross your arms over your chest. But you can’t sit still in that position for too long at all. You’re too fidgety. 

In front of you, there’s a chilled bottle of champagne. You pour it into one of the flutes and sip it entirely too fast for the quality of the drink. ‘Sip’ is putting it gently, you down it. 

A second glass is poured, but you choose to hold that one in your hand tightly. Absent-mindedly, you swirl the champagne around, watching the bubbles form and pop up at the top. 

A few moments of silence pass, you begin to mutter to yourself to ease the stress. “Christian Siriano dress, Gucci jewelry, Prada shoes. Christian Siriano dress, Gucci jewelry, Prada shoes..”

The crowd starts getting louder the closer you get to the event. Cameras are already flashing outside your limousine. 

“I haven’t even told you who’s going to be there.”

Your agent sounds extremely smug all of a sudden. When you look over at her, there’s a cocky smirk on her face. 

“Who?” With that look, you’re not even sure that you want to know the answer. 

“Maybe put the drink down before I tell you. Wouldn’t want you to spill it on your…”

“Christian Siriano.”

“Christian Siriano dress.”

After downing the contents once more, you put the glass down. 

“Okay, who?”

Her smile grows even wider. “You know Stray Kids, right?”

Your face pales, even under all that makeup all the color drains from your skin. 

“They’re going to be there?”

She knows, she knows you’ve been a fan for a while. You were a Stay before fame came your way. 

Your agent smiles and nods, the light from her tablet illuminating her face. 

“Don’t play with me,” your voice is strained. “That’s mean.”

You’ve been keeping your admiration of them on the down low for so long. Now that you’re in the public eye, you have to be very low key about things. 

It was killing you. 

“They did a soundtrack song for a show, it’s up for an award.”

You were nervous before. Now you’re downright hysterical. 

“They’re going to be there? All eight of them?”

“To my knowledge, yes.”

The limousine comes to a gradual stop. The screams outside are deafening, even through the car doors. 

“Will I see them?” You ask, gathering your skirt up to try and assist with a graceful exit out of the limo. 

“Probably!” There’s a little hint to her voice that you can’t quite put your finger on. What is she doing? What does she know? 

The driver comes around the limousine and you take a deep breath, activating your celebrity face. 

It’s never hard for you to muster a genuine smile. You’re humble about your life, you know how lucky you are. Thinking about how far you’ve come is all the motivation you need to let the corners of your lips perk up.

“Ready?” Your agent asks.

“Yes, ma’am!”

The door opens and the roar of the crowd goes insane. You’re practically blinded by the flashes of the cameras. 

You do your very best to keep a level head and follow the instructions of the security team around you. 

In the meantime, as you walk into the venue, you turn and smile at the fans behind the barricades. 

Sending them hand hearts, waving enthusiastically back at them. You look up at your head security guard.

“Can I please go sign a few autographs?”

He looks down at you, obviously annoyed. But annoyed in the fatherly way. Just by the look on his face, you knew he was going to say yes. 

You quickly pick up your skirt and walk over to the barricade. The screams get louder and louder the closer you get. 

“Hi! Hi!” You greet all the fans as they scream for you. So many different objects are thrust over the fence for you to sign. 

You grab a marker and begin leaving your signature over everything in sight: posters, shirts, books. 

Several selfies are taken with you. Every single fan is so sweet and kind that you can’t help but spend extra time with them. 

They reach out and grab your hands, you hold them back and have conversations with them. 

You always do this. It’s something you’re very well known for. 

“Miss Y/N.” your security guard says gruffly behind you. 

“Okay, okay. I gotta go, guys. It was so nice meeting you, and it was nice seeing you again!” You point to a fan that you recognized from a convention you attended a few months ago. 

After blowing a few more kisses, you leave the barricade and head towards the red carpet. 

If it was up to you, you would’ve stood there and talked with your fans all day and never gone into the awards ceremony. They’re the reason you’re here, after all. 

Walking along the carpet, you plaster a smile on your face and wave to all the photographers. You stand still right in the middle of the space and strike several different practiced poses. 

You make sure to look in all different directions and show off the dress hugging your body beautifully. 

It’s a dark yellow gown with huge puffed sleeves that sit off your shoulders. The center of the gown dips down to show off your cleavage. The rest of the skirt poofs out in a princess style. 

It’s absolutely gorgeous. Crafted to show off your body in the best way.

All the photographers call out your name, all of them trying to get your attention. 

You wave to several that you recognize and say hello to others. 

Your short minutes on the red carpet run out and you quickly make your way across to the other side to link arms with your agent. 

She pats your arm, “Great job! Now for the hard part.”

On the other side of the red carpet there are several different magazines, websites, and other fashion sources lined up with interviewers stationed in front of cameras. 

“I studied for this, remember?” you tease her and hug her arm closer before letting go. 

The first interview you do is with Vogue, they had grabbed your attention so fast you almost got whiplash. 

How’s the show? Who are you wearing? Are you nervous about tonight?

These are all questions you prepared for.  

Next interview was with Vanity Fair. You had recognized the interviewer, so you approached her first. 

“Y/N!” Her face lights up when she sees you.

“Hi!” you answer just as cheerfully, wrapping her in a big hug and then holding her out at arms length. “How have you been?”

“So good, you?”

“Can’t complain– busy. I’m so glad to see you!”

“Me too! Do you have time for an interview?” She asks hopefully. 

“I always have time for you.”

She says thank you and her camera man gets into place. A second microphone is handed to you. Before you can blink, she’s in interview mode. 

You smile and listen to her introduction.

“I am here with, Y/N L/N, star of the Emmy award winning show, Kings and Pirates. How are you doing tonight, Y/N?”

You lift the microphone up to your mouth and speak into it happily. “I’m doing great, thank you! Always a pleasure to be talking with you on the red carpet.”

“You flatter me, Y/N! Now tell us the obvious question here: Who are you wearing?”

“I am wearing an original Christian Siriano dress, Gucci jewelry, and Prada shoes.”

“The entire outfit is beautiful! An amazing dress to hopefully show off when you win Best Actress tonight…?”

You laugh humbly. “I don’t know, there are so many amazing actresses nominated tonight. A girl can hope, but when I see the other names around mine, I can’t help but be anxious.”

The interviewer opens her mouth to ask another question, but the crowd absolutely erupts in cheers. Louder than when you got out of your limo, louder than some concerts you’ve attended. 

“Oh my god, I think someone important just showed up.” You joked into the microphone. 

Both you and the interviewer are looking across the carpet, craning your necks to see if you can get a glimpse of whoever just stepped out. 

“Minho! Hyunjin! Felix!” Crowd members scream out several names and your heart rate skyrockets. 

“Oh my god, it’s Stray Kids.” You accidentally say into the mic. 

“Oh wow! Are you a Stay?” She asks you. Your head whips around and a dark blush covers your cheeks. 

Laughing nervously, you look down at the ground, suddenly sheepish. “Ah… well, yeah. I’ve been a fan of theirs for years now.”

“Did you know they were going to be here tonight?”

“I was told it was a possibility, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”

Joke after joke makes the interviewer and her cameraman laugh. 

The interview continues without a hitch. But the entire time all you want to do is turn around  and see if you can catch a glimpse of Stray Kids. 

Yes, you’re famous. But you’re just a Stay at heart. 

You say your goodbyes with the interviewer and turn to move onto the next one. 

A gasp catches in your throat as soon as you step away. 

All eight of them are right there, doing their own interview with Buzzfeed. They’re smiling and laughing about something. 

You’re just able to stare. They’re right there. You’ve never been in the same space as them. 

Act professional, Y/N! Stop acting like a fangirl, you’re literally on the clock right now!

Their laughter is contagious and you find yourself smiling as you turn away and walk to another interviewer trying to flag you down. 

“… excited to maybe meet tonight? You guys are usually at music award shows, so this is definitely new for you! There’s some new faces that you probably have never seen before.”

“We actually were just talking about this on the ride over,” Chan says to the interviewer, ever the front man. “We’re all huge fans of Kings and Pirates, we watch it together every week when new episodes come out. We joked that it would be an amazing opportunity to say hi to Y/N L/N.”

It’s like the red carpet is pulled right out from underneath your feet. 

“But that would be like trying to get a private conversation with royalty, you know?”

You? They want to meet you? They watch your show? Every week? Together? 

“I think I just saw her around…” the interviewer trails off, by her tone you can tell she’s looking around for you. 

Act casual, Y/N. Pretend like you weren’t listening to every word of their interview closely. Act normal for once in your life.

“Ah, no way.” Chan’s thick accent reaches your ears. He sounds so shy by his tone. Several other members murmur and tease one another. 

“Oh, there she is! Y/N!” The interviewer grabs your attention— she technically already had it. 

The members begin to get louder when you turn your head to look at the entire group of them staring at you. 

When your eyes meet all of theirs, each of them freeze like a deer in headlights. Do they even know who they are?

You can’t tell if you’ve gone sheet white or bright red. Your heart is beating so fast it might explode. 

The interviewer waves you over, you look over at the other one you were walking to and hold up a finger to say ‘one moment’ before walking over to the large group of them. 

“Hi, hi!” You cheer casually when you come up next to them. 

All right members look absolutely starstruck. Jeongin’s eyes look like they might bug out of his head. 

They all bow politely when you join the group. 

Chan’s bow is a second later than everyone else’s. He’s too busy staring in absolute disbelief. 

“Y/N! It’s so nice to see you!” the interviewer says. You think you recognize her from another event. 

“You as well,” you respond with a beautiful smile.

“Let’s get you a mic— oh, we have no more— maybe someone— can share?”

Chan is the member closest to you, he immediately angles the mic your way. He does it so fast and eagerly it almost hits right into you. 

You giggle and thank him, “Thank you! It’s good to see you too,” you repeat and step a bit closer to him to make sharing easier. 

He smells so good. You can feel his body heat radiating onto your bare shoulders. Thankfully, the outdoor chill isn't affecting you much due to your adrenaline being so high. 

“Y/N, before I ask anything else, I do need to ask who you’re wearing.”

“Oh, a Christian Siriano original with accessories by Gucci and shoes by Prada.”

“Absolutely stunning,” the interviewer compliments. 

A light giggle comes from your chest and you go to thank her. It’s under his breath but you hear Chan say something along the lines of ‘that’s an understatement.’

“I did call you over here for a specific reason, besides the fact that we would love to interview a nominee for Best Actress. It seems you have eight fans all eager to meet you!”

You turn and look over at the members with wide eyes. “Oh my god!” You say out loud and your hand flies to your chest. “I am literally honored!”

“You know Stray Kids?” The interviewer asks. 

Well, if they already said they were fans… 

You lean down into the mic and laugh, “I have been a Stay for so long, are you kidding?”

Every single one of them don shocked expressions. Chan goes stiff as a board. 

You look at each of them with one of the most gorgeous smiles across your face. “When I was called over here with you guys I thought I was going to pass out. I had your discography playing in the room while my stylists got me ready.”

All eight of them move around like little kids meeting their idols for the first time. They each stare at you with literal stars in their eyes. 

“The first album that caught my attention was In Life, actually. Haven is my favorite song.”

You rain compliment after compliment down on them.

“It’s truly an honor to meet you, we’re all such huge fans.” Felix is the one that breaks the silence into the mic. The rest of them all nod eagerly. 

“Since we’re all fans of Kings and Pirates,” the interviewer brings your attention back. “Do you think you could give us a small spoiler for the new season coming out?”

“Ah,” you laugh and look around a bit, sucking your teeth in thought. “I reaaally shouldn’t, but…” You look to the side to make eye contact with all the members but Chan’s piercing gaze is the one that stole your breath away. 

His stylist had done his hair in such a natural, curly way. Every single strand is sitting perfectly on his head. The makeup on his face highlights his features angelically. 

Especially that beautiful nose of his. 

Each of them wore black tie suits with a bit of personal flair on them. Chan’s entire suit, including the undershirt and tie, was black. 

It takes a moment for your brain to reboot, not that anyone noticed. To them, it just looked like you were thinking of a small spoiler to give away. 

“I think that fans can look forward to seeing an old face that we previously had to say goodbye to.”

Jeongin eagerly grabs Han’s arm and says something in his ear. The two of them start whispering about what the spoiler could possibly mean. 

The rest of them all move around anxiously. Except Chan. He continues to stare at you with his lips parted slightly. 

You hold his eye contact for one more moment before looking back at the interviewer with a sinfully sweet smile. 

“Wow!” She says over-dramatically on purpose, “I think us fans have a lot to look forward to. Best of luck to all of you with your nominations tonight!”

“Thank you so much!” You chirp into the mic and stand there with a smile while she does her required sign off to go back to the main camera back in LA. 

During those few moments, you feel Chan shift his weight so that his entire arm brushes against yours. Goosebumps immediately fly up your shoulder and through your neck. 

It takes every muscle in your body not to react to it.

He’s still holding the mic between the two of you just in case you need to speak again. You want to turn your head and look at him so badly. 

You want to talk to him in the worst way; ask him questions about the music, even just how his day is, anything. 

The cameras cut and you instantly let out a sigh of relief, next to you, you see the eight of them deflate a bit too. 

The interviewer says her thanks and the crew takes the mics back from everyone. 

“It really was a pleasure meeting you guys,” you say with your hand on your heart again. “Words cannot describe how honored I am to be talking to you all.”

“Are you kidding?” Chan jokes. “We all feel the same way. I don’t think we even thought we would be able to stand near you tonight.”

You laugh and see your agent signaling you out of the corner of your eye. 

“Bah! I’m just a girl, really! Best of luck to you guys tonight, I’ll be cheering extra loud from the crowd when you win!”

“The same goes for us,” Chan smiles. He sticks his hand out and you immediately grab it. 

Electricity shoots up your arm and you have to bite your cheek to keep yourself from screaming. 

Your hands shake and you say your goodbyes to each of the members before walking away to your next interview. 

As soon as they think you’re out of earshot, they all begin talking rapidly to one another about you. 

“Can you believe it?”

“She’s a Stay!”

“Oh my god, I think I blacked out, did that really happen?”

“You lucky bastard, you got to shake her hand and share your mic with her.”

“Stop acting like a middle schooler.”

Their voices fade into the background the further you get from them. You just can’t help but smile and look down at the floor sheepishly. 

---------------------------------------

“I’ll find you after the awards show, okay, hon?” Your agent catches your attention as you walk into the auditorium. 

She grabs both of your forearms lightly and kisses your cheek. “Best of luck to you, don’t make yourself look stupid on stage.”

That last part is whispered into your ear and it makes you laugh. “I won’t! I won’t!”

She says her goodbyes once more and you look up at the usher waiting for you. 

This award show has its nominees all sitting around large dinner tables. There’s about ten people per table. 

For your show, you were the only one nominated for an award tonight, so not even your director or crew was here to sit with you. 

The usher held out his arm for you to take and you did so with a gracious smile. There’s a reason you’re known for charming everyone you meet. 

He leads you through the vast room. Several fellow actors call your name and greet you, and you respond to each one happily. 

“Here we are, Miss Y/N.”

No way. Absolutely no way. 

Seated around the entire table are the eight members you saw mere minutes ago, their manager taking the ninth seat. 

Sure enough, your name is printed on a sign draped over the back of the chair. 

Minho looks up at you first and waves sheepishly. You immediately wave back.

If Lee Minho waves, you wave back. 

“Hi again!” You greet them all before turning up and gently laying a hand on the usher’s bicep to thank him. He bows his head once and walks off. 

Chan, who was seated next to your empty chair, practically springs out of his seat and stands next to you. 

“I can’t believe this,” you tell him with a wide smile. He mirrors it and holds his hand out to the chair. 

You laugh while he grabs the back of it and pulls it out from the table. 

It takes a little bit of special maneuvering, but you manage to fold your poofy skirt down in order to sit down. Chan pushes your chair back in and takes his seat next to you. 

He now sits on your left, Seungmin on your right. 

“I guess I would’ve met you guys tonight regardless, then!” 

“It seems that way,” Chan answers. He reaches up and rubs the side of his neck with his hand. 

Now, from years of being a fan, you know that’s a nervous tick of his. And with your friendly nature, all you want to do is soothe him. 

“It’s like I’m getting a deluxe, VIP fan meeting. When Stay watches the award ceremony they’re all going to put a bounty on my head.” 

They all laugh and you turn to look at Seungmin, “Can I have an autograph before I die? I didn’t bring any of my albums with me, though.”

He laughs at your joke and your heart smiles with his beautiful grin. 

“I knew I should’ve brought a photocard with me.”

Behind you, Chan shifts around. “You bought our albums?”

You turn back to him, “Of course I did. I wanted to support you guys. Best way to do that is streaming your music and buying the albums, right?”

“Yeah,” he answers nervously, his bottom lip pulling between his teeth. “Yeah, you’re right. Just didn’t think I’d ever meet a celebrity I admired and find out they’re a Stay.”

You giggle and lean forward on the table. “I hope that’s not weird. I think I would’ve exploded if I didn’t tell you guys how big of a fan I was.”

“Not weird at all, just unexpected.”

“I guess I feel the same way, especially after hearing that you guys watch the show.”

“We love the show!” Han tells you from across the table. “Sometimes Minho will cut dance rehearsals early for us to go back and watch it.”

“Seriously?” you ask. “Wow, that really means a lot, you have no idea.”

“It’s easy to be a fan of yours,” Chan grabs your attention. “You’re one of the kindest people we’ve met in a while.”

Oh, you are practically kicking your feet around. 

“Fame is a whole other universe to tackle. I wanted to make sure I treat my fans and everyone around me the way I wanted to be treated before all this happened to me. It’s important not to lose yourself. But I know you guys all know that already. You’re masters at it.”

“Hyunjin still lets it get to his head.” Felix jokes. 

“What!”

The pre-show continues like this as the rest of the celebrities file in. Many stop by your chair and say hello to you.

With each one, you get up out of your seat, hug and kiss them hello, then sit back down only to be interrupted again. 

“You certainly are popular,” Chan comments after you say goodbye to a fellow actor. “That last guy crossed the room to come say hi to you.”

With a giggle, you joke, “Is someone jealous?”

He stiffens for a moment, his back going straight and he clenches his fists on the tabletop for a moment. “No.”

His answer is not firm at all. 

Before you’re able to analyze it, producers come out among the audience to tell everyone the cameras are about to begin rolling. 

“When is your award in the lineup?” You whisper over to Seungmin. 

“Right before yours, actually.”

“Maybe I’ll see you all backstage then.”

You both smile at each other and shift back in your chairs. 

Several cameramen come out into the audience with their large sets of equipment. One of them is very obviously hovering by you. 

You know he’ll signal you if you’re being shown. The teleprompters strategically placed along the venue also show what is being broadcasted. 

Opening music begins playing and the lights dim among the audience. The centerpieces on the tables give off an evening glow. 

A waiter comes over and places your drink on the table. You actually had forgotten you requested one before sitting down. 

You thank him and he takes his leave. 

“What’s that?” Chan whispers in your ear. 

“Espresso martini,” you answer. “Wanna try?”

Chan looks over at his manager, who is busy watching the host make his opening speech. He nods quickly and leans down, taking a long sip off the top. 

A tiny ‘mmm’ comes from the back of his throat and he looks at you while licking his lips a bit. 

“Oh that’s delicious.”

“And dangerous.”

You lift the glass and take a long sip from it and place it back down on the table. 

“I got my first major role fresh out of college. I’m still learning how to not rely on alcohol to have fun.”

Chan just laughs and both of you direct your attention to the host on stage. 

“-and if all else fails, we have our lovely knight in shining armor to protect us, tonight.”

The camera man turns and has the camera on your face. You smile brightly and blow a kiss into the camera. The entire audience lets out several positive reactions. 

When the camera cuts away, you let out a sigh of relief. “I knew they were gonna do that.”

You take another large swig of your drink. It’s almost empty already. Curse these fancy people and their tiny portions. 

Chan leans over and suddenly his hot breath is on your skin. Goosebumps rip down your body and you can’t suppress a shiver. 

“Careful,” he whispers lowly. “I don’t think you want to be stumbling onto the stage.”

“I think you underestimate my alcohol tolerance, Mr. Bang.”

You both make eye contact.

The audience applauds as the host leaves the stage and the first announcer comes on. Both of you clap and Chan leans away from you. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his tongue dart out to wet his bottom lip before he pulls it between his teeth.

His cologne lingers around your senses even after he’s gone. 

Dammit, he’s right. But, my god, you need another stiff drink.

---------------------------------------

“And here are the nominees…” The announcer says into the mic. The entire table is holding their breath. 

This was it, this was Stray Kids’ award. Your jaw clenches with anticipation as the names are read off one by one. Individually, you crack each of your knuckles anxiously.

All eight of the members are staring up at the screen, each of them have their own nervous ticks. 

You reach under the table to try and comfort Chan a bit, your hand landing on his knee. He jumps in place at the table at the contact.

Without looking at each other, he places his hand on top of your and squeezes a bit.

“It’s going to suck when I have to sit here by myself after you guys win.” you whisper to him.

“If we win.”

“You’re going to win.” You squeeze his knee again.

“And the winner is…” 

You suck in a breath, all of them stiffen up. Cameras are pointed at each of the nominees tables. 

“Stray Kids!”

Immediately, you spring out of your seat with a gleeful cheer. Clapping your hands together and smiling at each of them. 

Without a second thought, Chan wraps you into a grand hug, pure joy written across his face. Your face morphs into a shocked one, but you hug him back happily.

He’s so warm. His hug is so tight.

After a few heartbeats, he tears himself off of you with an unreadable expression. All eight of them walk up to the stage and grab the award from the presenter.

Sitting back down, you take a second to catch your breath. 

So badly, you want to focus on their acceptance speech, but all you can think about was the way Chan held you. It went straight to your heart, and thanks to the alcohol in your veins, it traveled a bit south as well. 

Nervously, your hand comes up and rubs at your chest by your collarbones, a small nervous tick of yours.

The table feels so empty without the eight of them there. Their manager is the only one left sitting there with you. He’s watching their speech intently.

Both of you stand and clap once more as they walk off the stage. All of them pushing each other gleefully and playing slap ass. It makes you giggle.

All of the lights around the room shift again and another announcer comes into the stage. The same camera man as before comes around the side of the table to stand closer to you.

The announcer goes through their speech about how important actresses are, how each of you stood out, how it was an honorable nomination. Your heart is in your throat, you can feel each thud against your ribcage so closely. 

No one was next to you to hold your knee. 

“And the nominees are…”

Various clips of the other nominees in their element flash behind their names.

Your name is third. Several different dramatic scenes play out within the five second window. They chose some of your best scenes for that little animation. The next few nominees flash after that.

“And the winner is…”

You suck in your breath.

“Y/N L/N! King and Pirates!”

The entire audience erupts in cheers. Practically everyone stands up on their feet.

You bury your face in your hands in disbelief. 

“Oh my god!” you practically yell as you stand up. 

An actor from the next table places his hand on your back to help you out of your chair. You smile gratefully at him and make your way up to the stage. 

During the entire walk, several different people offer you their congratulations, you thank each of them, shaking their hands. 

Climbing your way onto the stage, you make your way over to the announcer, kissing their cheeks as a thank you and turning to speak into the mic.

“Oh wow,” you laugh into the mic, looking down at the award and then back up at the audience. “I know everyone says this, but I really did not expect this! I mean, have you seen any of the other shows?”

A gentle laugh comes from the crowd. 

The rest of your acceptance speech is short, sweet, and to the point. The timer on one of the teleprompters definitely motivated you to speak quickly. 

As you walk away with your award, music plays behind you. A stage manager comes up to you and ushers you through the wings.

Several more congratulations come your way, you respond to each of them humbly.

You turn a corner and are met with a cheer even louder than the one from the auditorium full of people. 

All eight members of Stray Kids are clapping for you, jumping up and down in excitement. Your enthusiasm immediately matches theirs as you come up to them.

“I can’t believe it!” you say loudly, holding the award out to look at. “I think I’m dreaming!”

You turn and look up at Hyunjin, “Pinch me, I have to be asleep!”

He laughs at you and lightly grabs your arm. You yip dramatically and look back down at the trophy. “Nope, definitely awake!”

“If you guys would please find your seats, we need to clear this hallway.” a stagehand ushers your group away. He turns and looks down at you with a soft smile, “They wouldn’t leave until you came back.”

“Aww,” you coo to all of them. Your arm wraps around Jeongin’s, who happens to be the closest at the moment. “You guys are too sweet!” 

Your head rests on his arm and you hug it close as a thank you. He pats your hand and bends his arm to escort you back to your table.

A pair of deep brown eyes burn into the side of your head the more you grab onto Jeongin. Not that you noticed. 

Walking through the hallways, you see one back hall that has signs for the bathroom.

“Actually, I’m going to run to the ladies’ room before going back to the table. I’ll meet you guys back there. Do you mind taking this back to the table for me?”

You drop Jeongin’s arm and hold the trophy out to him. The maknae is hesitant, but takes your award anyway. You laugh at him and rub his arm before you head back to the bathroom.

“Am I allowed to be holding this?” he asks as you walk away.

The venue was a grand, old hotel, you follow so many twists and turns to get to the bathroom. Was there even one back here?

Did you take a wrong turn? There aren’t even workers back here. 

You definitely aren’t supposed to be back here. Turning back and finding another bathroom is probably the best option at this point. 

A gentle grasp on your wrist makes your heart jump and a gasp tear from your throat. Frightened, you turn around and raise your hand to hit whoever snuck up on you. 

“Y/N! It’s just me!” Chan says quickly, cowering behind his hand just in case you still swing. 

“Ugh, Chan! You scared the shit out of me!”

“Sorry, I called your name a few times, I guess you didn’t hear me.” You shake your head, he sucks his teeth. “That explains it. Staff told me there’s no bathroom down here, I wanted to grab you before you got too lost.”

Chan chuckles nervously, you laugh too. “That explains it. I guess those signs must’ve been extras that they printed for the venue. Who knows?”

It’s now that you notice he’s still holding your wrist tightly in his hand. His hand is so warm, so soft. 

He nervously licks his lips and his eyes look all around the hall, anywhere but at you. His throat bobs with a gulp. 

“I don’t ah— I don’t believe I gave you a proper congratulations. So, congratulations on the award. You deserve it.”

“Oh!” You giggle. “Thank you! And a hearty congratulations to you as well, I can’t think of anyone who’s worked harder than you guys.”

Taking another step closer to him, you turn your wrist around and take a hold of his hand.

“I also can’t think of any other celebrities I would want to celebrate with.” The corners of your lips pull into a grin, Chan’s twitch as well. “You guys are so sweet, cheering for me. Made the win that much better.”

Slowly, his ears begin to turn red and his jaw clenches a few times. His chocolate brown eyes flit all over your face and around the hall. His nerves on clear display. 

“Yeah, well, you deserve it, so.” Chan clears his throat and adjusts the tie around his neck. “I can’t take credit for it, it was Changbin’s idea to wait for you and all.” 

You reach up on your toes and press a long, soft kiss to his cheek. With his lips right by your ear, you’re able to hear him gasp under his breath and then stop breathing. 

Underneath your lips, you feel how much heat is radiating off his smooth skin. It’s like you kissed a frying pan. 

“Thank you, Channie,” you whisper against his skin. 

The hand around yours twitches and tightens. 

You press another kiss to his cheek before going to back away. 

Quicker than you can blink, Chan’s free hand comes around your body and holds you against him. His hand curls around you to press into the small of your back. 

Your head tucks under his chin, ear against the dip of his throat. His heart is beating just as fast as yours. 

“Not yet,” he whispers so quietly you almost didn’t hear it. “Please, not yet.”

Your heart thuds in your chest at his words. How could you not? The Bang Chan is asking you to stay closer to him for just a little while longer. The same man you’ve admired from a distance for years. 

The man who created such a deep parasocial relationship with you that it took a lot of self reflection to bring yourself out of it. And now, here you were, in his arms in real life, tucked away in the hallway of this hotel. 

Smelling his expensive cologne and aftershave, listening to his shallow breathing, the entire world seems to stop. If your past self could see this, she’d probably pass out. 

Hell, you might pass out now. 

You squeeze his hand once and he responds with a grip of his own. 

Slowly, you pull your head back to gaze up at him. He stares down at you with the most thoughtful expression. 

Eyes are windows to the soul; and right now, his soul is so flustered and fulfilled at the same time. 

“I can’t believe tonight is real,” you murmur. 

Several times, you catch Chan’s eyes flicking down to your lips. Each stolen glance adds another butterfly to your stomach. 

His hand on your back pulls you even closer. 

“You keep talking as if you’re not one of the biggest names in the world right now.” he teases and you chuckle softly. “If anyone should be pinching themself, it’s me.”

His breath is cool and minty. Yours is tinged with espresso. 

Your tongue comes out and licks your bottom lip before you pull it between your teeth. Chan watches, trying not to make it obvious. 

“Can I try something?” Your question is deathly quiet. If it wasn’t for the silence of the hallway, there’s no way he would have heard it otherwise. 

“Yes,” he replies immediately. It comes out as a huff; quick, short, and desperate. 

“Close your eyes, Chan.”

He listens right away, his eyes snapping shut. 

You hesitate for a split second, just taking in his ethereal beauty. Every curve of his gorgeous, blemish free face. It’s not fair.

Both of his hands twitch, his jaw clenches. 

You lean up slowly and press a featherlight kiss on his plush lips. 

His shoulders seem to sag inwards, a large, relieved exhale leaves his nose. 

Fireworks explode behind your eyes, tingles shoot down into your fingertips. 

You pull back after a second, his eyes open a bit and Chan stares down at you, his lips parting for a moment. 

He stares intently into your eyes, as if trying to read you or see something within them. 

Without breaking eye contact, he leans down and kisses you again. You melt into the kiss with half lidded eyes, they unfocus as you fall further into his kiss. 

Chan pulls back for a moment to turn his head and capture your lips once more, his bottom lip slotting between yours. 

Both of your eyes shut. 

Your hands move and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his head closer to yours as he kisses you like his life depends on it. 

Chan holds your waist with both hands, the heat from his hold going right through your dress. 

Each kiss is hot and heavier than the last. His grips at your dress grow needier and needier by the second, he can’t hold you close enough to his body.

Within moments, you’re both opening and closing your mouths, with open mouthed, wet, sloppy kisses. His eyebrows pull together.

Erotic pants fill the empty hallway.

You ever so gently bite down on his bottom lip and pull your head back. 

Chan sighs and his half lidded, hazy eyes look down into yours as his lip snaps back after you release it. 

He takes two long steps and walks you backwards until your back hits the wall. 

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs against your lips before capturing them in another heated kiss. “You’ll have to tell me. I can’t do it myself. Not when I’ve wanted you for so long.”

Your fingers thread up through his hair on the back of his head and you pull him closer against you. 

Tangled tongues and gentle grunts mix together. 

“What if I don’t want you to stop?” you ask lowly in between kisses. 

Chan groans and presses his entire body into yours. 

You felt like you’re on fire with the way you’re so feverishly pulling him closer. 

One his hands moves up and down your waist. The puffiness of your skirt getting in the way of his hips grinding directly into yours. 

“So beautiful,” he mutters between kisses. “So gorgeous.” Kiss. “Wanted you for so long.”

It’s your turn to moan at his praise, you suck on his tongue and his eyes roll back in his skull. 

When you pull away from each other panting, you look around in the hallway. There’s a door right next to you both, where it leads, you’re not sure. 

Chan kisses your cheek and then makes his way down your neck with his lips. 

“Chan,” you moan out. 

“Yeah, baby?”

Fuck. That goes right to your head and makes your stomach flip. 

He presses another wet kiss to your exposed collarbone and your head tilts back, knocking against the wall. He’s making it impossible to try and get any words out.

The hand on your ribcage squeezes when you let out a breathy exhale. 

“Did you need something?” he mouths against your neck and bites down right after. 

Oh, that cocky motherfucker. 

“Fuck, Chan…!” You pull at his hair. 

He brings his head up with a dopey look on his face, eyes half lidded and hazy. 

“Hm?” he hums and leans in, pressing another kiss to your check. 

One of your hands comes down and runs over his chest. You grab a hold of his tie and twist it around your hand before yanking on it. Your lips are right next to his ear and you make sure to let out hot exhales.

Chan gasps and presses a hand on the wall next to your head to keep his balance. A shiver wracks his body.

“You’re starting something you can’t finish.” The low, gravel timbre of your voice shocks even you for a moment. It’s raspy and sexy. It has an effect it has on Chan immediately. His pupils dilate and he takes a sharp intake of air.

“Oh, princess,” Chan bites your earlobe before blowing against it lightly. “I’ve never started something I didn’t intend on finishing.”

God, his voice. It’s like running your fingers over velvet. You yank his tie to the side and drag him towards the room like he’s on a leash.

Chan lets out a surprised grunt, but follows you nonetheless. Just like your little puppy begging you for your attention.

The entire walk over to the door, his hands are on your body. Anywhere Chan can reach, he’s touching you. 

When you push open the door, you’re happily surprised to find an empty dressing room. All the lights are off– perfect.

Once you both are inside, the door shuts and you push Chan against the back of it. Your lips desperately smashing together.

He’s everywhere on your body. His hands don’t stay in the same place for more than two seconds before he’s groping somewhere else. 

Blindly, he reaches for the door handle and clicks the lock in place. 

Your fist is still tightly curled around his tie, you wind it around your hand a few more times while your tongues tango. Sinfully wet noises emanate from your locked lips. Your other hand runs down his chest to unbutton his blazer.

Chan pushes off the wall and shucks the blazer off his shoulders, dropping it onto the ground. 

Never once do his lips leave yours. He’s intoxicating, you can’t get enough and neither can he.

He backs you up again until your ass hits a counter.

In one smooth movement, Chan reaches down and grabs your waist and lifts you onto the countertop. Your legs part and he stands in between them.

“This fucking dress,” he growls against your lips and nips your bottom one lightly. Desperately, he begins grabbing at the fabric, bunching it up around your hips. Underneath, you’re still clothed in stockings, corsets, spandex shorts, and many more.

He doesn’t seem to care. With both hands now grabbing your nylon-clad thighs, he brings both of your legs to wrap around his waist.

As soon as both of your hips meet, moans leave both of your mouths and you swallow each other’s. He’s hard as a fucking rock against you. So many layers of clothing separate the two of you from one another, it’s endlessly frustrating.

You pull his tie even tighter and one of his hands comes down to grip the edge of the counter for balance. 

Your hips roll against his once and he has to tighten his grip so much his knuckles turn white. 

“Do it again,” he whines against your mouth.

Who are you to say no? 

Again, you roll your hips up into his. This time, his hard cock rubs right against your clothed clit. It’s just enough to send a ripple down your legs and into your toes and they curl in your Prada heels.

You don’t stop in between hip rolls this time, you do it again and again and again. Each one feels better than the next.

It’s like your head goes underwater, deep within the riptide of the oceans of pleasure. 

And by the noises that are coming out of Chan’s mouth, you know he feels the same way. 

His hips begin to meet your thrusts with his own. Both of you are grinding into each other like teenagers in your parents’ basement. 

But you both are so needy at this moment that you’ll take anything you can get to scratch that insatiable itch. 

With each thrust, his exhales get heavier and heavier, whimpers and whines come out in between them. 

Your head kicks back against the mirror behind you after one particularly delicious roll. There’s no way you’re even on planet Earth right now with how much he’s making your body thrum.

“Fuck, babygirl,” he moans out and kisses your bare shoulder. 

You pull on his tie absentmindedly while you cry out when he thrusts even harder. 

“Wanna hear those moans with you on my cock,” he hisses when your legs tighten around his waist. “If I’m making you feel this good without touching you, think of how loud you’ll scream when I can finally fuck you into my mattress.”

“Chan-!” you whimper, your eyes squint closed, mouth falling open.

How is he so fucking good at this? Those dancer hips are merciless. It sends just the right amount of pleasure through your body.

“You know that Vogue photoshoot you did last month?” he moans into your ear, his lips right next to it. 

Your Vogue photoshoot was a borderline boudoir shoot. Only a black sheet covered you in most of your shots.

All you’re able to do is whine out an “uh-huh”.

“Babygirl, I can’t even think about that shoot without my cock getting hard. God, fu–huck! Shit.”

He’s going to make you cum just by grinding on you. You can feel it coming closer and closer. 

One of his hands travels up your body to grab at the side of your neck, his thumb caressing your jawline while he licks and nips at the other side. 

“Want you to pose like that for me. I want you all to myself.” He sounds like he would eat you whole if he could. And fuck, you would let him.

He could tell you to get on your knees and bark right now and you would.

“Close, Chan…” you whimper.

Just hearing that he’s going to make you cum makes his eyes roll in his skull. Every single wet dream of his is coming true under his own two hands. He has Y/N L/N’s legs wrapped around his waist, his cock pressed against her clothed cunt, her skin in his mouth.

Is this what winning felt like?

“You gonna cum for me babygirl?” he hisses and bites your neck.

“Yes! Shit! Don’t stop, please!”

When you try to meet his thrusts, your hips stutter, they’re unable to keep up with how fast he begins moving.

“Need you to cum, babygirl, need it so bad. Need it like I need oxygen.” Chan’s hand moves and he pulls your lips together.

He’s all consuming.

Three more thrusts and your body seizes, your orgasm gripping you so tightly that you think you might black out. 

You break free from his kiss to throw your head back. It thuds against the mirror. Your legs tighten around him so much he can barely move.

Chan rolls his hips a few more times, letting you ride out your mind-blowing orgasm. Each one is slower and more sensual than the last.

After a few seconds, your legs loosen up a bit around him. Chan trails softer kisses down your neck, over both of your collarbones, then back up to your cheeks.

They’re gentle and sweet. So different from the way he was absolutely devouring you mere moments ago.

“Chan,” you pant out. “Let me help you.”

“Soon, baby. Not here.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a gold card– a hotel roomkey. 

Chan leans forward and presses a long kiss to your swollen lips. While he’s attached to you, he slips the roomkey into the top of your dress where your breasts sat.

“The Mark, room 103. Fuck The Plaza, you have your own afterparty to attend to.”

[zoesshortstories]

The Party (Fancy Pants chapter one)

Words: 2.3k

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x actress!fem!oc Ava Radmall

Thanks to Cam, Paige and Ava meet and have an instant connection. Slow burn and rising tension, mutual pining but idiots who won't admit feelings.

TW: discussion of religion (Christianity)

Paige

I answer the knock at the door since Cam is busy with other hostess duties. It’s 8:15 pm and her house and yard is already bustling with people. Her holiday parties are always a hit. 

On the other side is a woman with big beautiful brown eyes and long swooping brown hair partially held back in a clip. Her face is practically glowing in the light, but I’m sure she’d look angelic in the dark too. 

“Hi, I’m Ava” she says and reveals almost perfectly straight and white teeth with a smile. She reaches her right hand out to shake mine. It makes my fingertips buzz. 

“I’m Paige.” I muster and return her smile, coming to my senses. I step to the side so she can come in and try not to stare as she slips off her big black scarf shawl to reveal that her long red longsleeve dress she’s wearing has an open back. I can’t help that my eyes linger on the curve of her spine that practically points down to the way the fabric gracefully gathers at her hips before flowing to her ankles. 

She must notice me staring because she says, “It’s from Reformation.” 

“Uh, what?” I say, feeling caught in the act.

“My dress, silly.” She says with a smile and then Cam comes up to hug her from behind. Cam is still a good height taller than her despite Ava’s sleek black heels. 

“Ugh it’s so good to see you!” Cam squeals when she releases Ava from her grasp. 

“Oh my gosh I know! I’m so glad I made it back from Montana in time. It was snowing so bad that when they delayed my flight I thought they were gonna cancel it and I was so worried!” 

She goes to hug Cam again and they sway back and forth. 

Eventually Cam seems to remember I’m here too and introduces us, despite remarking it looks like we’ve already met. 

“We were roommates at Stanford,” Cam mentions. That helps me bridge the gap as to why the Ava Radmall was here. An on the rise star currently in the middle of her huge rise to fame. I don’t know how she has enough hours in a day or days in a year to be the love interest in the next Marvel movie and the funniest character in the latest season of Wednesday. Not that I was paying too much attention to what she was doing, it’s just hard not to hear her name thrown around. 

“You already know Paige’s a rookie on the team, but come and I’ll introduce you to the rest of them out back!” Cam exclaims and they walk through the party arm in arm. I decide to walk behind them. 

We reach her backyard with the pool and the high top standing tables. Ava gracefully shakes everyone’s hand and then Cam points her to the open bar. 

“I’ll have a dirty Shirley, please.” She asks the bartender as I stand next to her. 

“Ooh make that two please.” I add. “Another dirty Shirley fan, that’s kind of rare.” 

“Yeah well I had a 24-48 rule and Cam’s season didn’t align with mine so I figured why not just add alcohol to my go-to?” 

“Oh what sport did you play?” I ask. This makes her even more interesting. An athlete? 

“Soccer. Midfield.” She answers as our drinks are placed. We thank the bartender and head back to the team, continuing our small talk. 

Ava

When I step into the kitchen to pour myself a glass of water (and maybe to check out the snacks Cam didn’t put out for the party), I can feel Paige following behind me.

It brought me this warm feeling. I’m excited to talk to her again, especially outside of the group setting. There’s something about her that I can’t put my finger on but that’s so compelling to me. 

“I like your necklace,” she nods towards the pearly white cross outlined in shiny gold that has hung from my neck everyday since my mom gave me the it when I was sixteen. Some days I wore it more for her than for its meaning. 

Then I get to watch unabashedly as her slender fingers dip into her crisp white dress shirt. She pulls out a plain silver cross of her own to show me, like it’s our little secret. 

“How long have you been a Christian?” She asks, looking like she’s burning this memory into her brain. 

“I was raised Presbyterian but had a bit of a hard time in high school before coming back to it.” I responded. The alcohol flowing through my veins seemed to have made me extra talkative since I normally wouldn’t even say that much to someone I just met. It took me two years to tell Cam that and we were roommates practically glued to the hip. 

Paige doesn’t say anything but her face looks like she understands. Before my mind convinces me not to, I open my mouth to speak again. 

“Can you keep a secret?” I ask and she says yes both quietly and with her full chest. We both lean slightly closer and I drop my voice. “Well it’s not really a secret, most real people in my life know, but I’m not like out out. But I’m not really in either. So just like please don’t go running right to the media about it.” 

Her blue eyes bore into mine and she crosses her heart, zips her lips, and throws the key behind her back. The gesture of it all makes me giggle.

For some reason it makes me suddenly shy about telling her my “secret.” I take a sip of my drink. She quirks her eyebrow asking if I’m going to just finally tell her. 

“I’m gay or something,” I say and wave my hands around.

“Or something?” 

“Not really or something, I’m just gay got nervous.”

She laughs. The sound does something to me that’s more intoxicating than any drink a bartender could make.

“Well can I tell you a secret that’s also not really a secret?” 

I nod.

“I’m gay too.” 

For some reason when she says this it makes me smile. She’s trying to ease my nerves and relate. Although she hasn’t spoken on it publicly, it definitely did not seem like a secret. Especially considering how hot she looked in her dress shirt and navy pants, it would be a shame if she wasn’t at least a little bit gay. 

For another (maybe related) reason it makes my whole body feel warmer than it normally does when I drink. It’s like my Asian flush acting double.

“And what about your faith?” I ask. Now it’s her turn to take a sip of her own drink, but she finds it empty and I don’t stop her when she reaches for mine. I’m either way past my limit or there’s something about Paige that’s knocking all my walls down. I don’t want to tell her my classic charming stories, I want to tell her the truth.

“Also raised in the church.” She nods her head down but brings her eyes back up to you. “Never had a problem with my faith and sexuality though. I pretty much knew I liked women since I knew what a woman was.” 

“How?” I ask. 

“How did I know I was gay?” She asks, although it’s clear she knows what I’m asking about. I purse my lips and she leans back from the counter to hold her hands up in fake surrender. “Aight I’m just playing. My parents probably knew before I did but definitely before I told them, and I think because of that they were always very strong on teaching me my faith is between me and God and that He made me in His image as His child just the way I am.” 

“That’s beautiful, Paige.” I say and my eyes start to feel a little more teary than when our conversation started. 

“You alright, Ma?” She asks and places a warm hand on my shoulder, her pinky finger falling off the fabric of my dress and making contact with my skin. Her hand is warm and yet it still sends a shiver through my body that I try my best to resist.

“Oh yeah sorry that’s embarrassing,” I gush. “I think it’s just a sign I’m reaching the end of my night.” 

I place my glass in the sink and make my way towards the hidden stairwell in the side of the kitchen. 

“Where are you going, Ava?” Paige asks and I turn on the second step to look at her. 

“I always crash in Cam’s guest room after these parties.” I notice the crinkle in Paige’s brow this seems to cause so I keep going. “don’t worry I always do this so she knows, we like to debrief in the morning. What’s a night out without a roomie debrief?” 

“No it’s not that, it’s just I thought I was staying in her guest room.” 

I pause for a second before turning back to the stairs. “Don’t worry, I’m not a cuddler.” I tell her and continue unbothered on my way. 

Paige

When Cam knocks on the door the next morning I feel like she’s hitting me directly in the head. I roll back over and ignore it, glad we’re in the off season.

But when the door opens I hear the covers shift next to me as someone sits up. 

Ava. 

I fully lean into this whole fake sleeping thing as I eavesdrop on their conversation. But some nagging questions are coming back to me. Did I sleep with Ava Radmall? In Cameron’s guest room? At her holiday party? No. I must have more class than that, right? And I sure hope I would remember if that ever did happen.

“So are you gonna let me in bed so we can debrief?” Cam asks. 

“Just a second let me sit up.” Ava says and I hear her yawn. “Wait a second. If you’re wearing your Sparks sweatshirt, then whose am I wearing?” 

So that’s where my sweatshirt went. I had come back a few hours later than Ava had and patted down the armchair I thought I tossed it on but couldn’t find it. I was drunk enough to leave it to the morning, I guess. 

Cam gasps and I can only imagine her eyes going wide with it. 

“Paige!” 

“Huh?” I mumble and turn over to face them. 

Somehow this sends Cam into a fit of laughter and she’s leaning her hands against her knees with tears in her eyes before she speaks again. 

“I totally forgot that I said you could stay in my guest room and that Ava was coming! I’m so sorry guys,” she says. 

Ava pokes me in the arm. “Scoot over so Cam can cuddle up for the debrief.” She commands and so I listen. 

She props her pillow against the headboard and sits up, lifting up the comforter so Cam can get in too. I scoot to the edge and turn on my stomach to face them, remaining horizontal. 

I let the two of them chit chat away about Cam’s last few weeks of off season and her wedding planning, followed by Ava’s two weeks shooting in Montana and her plans for flying her mom out here for Christmas. Then they get around to debriefing what happened at the party. At multiple points in Cam’s story about one of her fiancé’s friends jumping fully clothed into the pool, Ava’s jaw drops. At the punchline she throws her head back and lets out a deep belly laugh that gets Cam laughing too. 

I smile at the sight of Ava and her laugh instead of laughing at Cam’s story that I wasn’t listening to in the first place. In the morning LA light her hair looks more golden bronze than the brown it was last night. It’s barely messed up from sleeping because she didn’t move once. Her bare skin was bright without her makeup, and I could see the tiny marks on her face that only made it more interesting. I want to memorize them. Then she tucks her hair behind her ears, exposing her neck, and against my better judgement I allow myself to imagine the sweet taste of her skin and what it would be like if she let me leave a mark. 

Ava leans into Cam’s shoulder and sighs. 

“I missed you. We need to hang out more.” 

“I so agree.” Cam says. “It’s both terrible and great we tend to be busy at the same time.”

“I’m pretty free in January. Not even press outside of LA.” Ava says and Cam seems to squeal again. 

“I better get back,” She says and peels out from under the covers. Cam starts talking to me as I try not to look at Ava’s pretty long legs as she looks for her dress on the ground. Her black seamless underwear has lacy sides that hug her hips just right. It looks so effortless, because of course Ava Radmall would look so fucking fantastic in her underwear, but I have this sneaking suspicion she worked to find the fit because it’s almost too good. 

She finds the dress and pulls it over her hips and then up under the sweatshirt, which she tosses off and onto me. 

Then the three of us make our way downstairs, hug Cam goodbye, and make our ways to our cars parked next to each other somehow on the curb. 

“Hey, thanks for letting me borrow your sweatshirt. And sorry for borrowing your sweatshirt.” Ava says as she opens the door, standing in the crease. I unlock my own car and turn to her.

“Hey anytime. See ya around, Ava.” 

“Goodbye, Paige.” 

[drchucktingle]

DECONSTRUCTING DAMASCUS #4

here we are again talkin on camp damascus and unwrapping every little secret and hidden layer of this book. think of this time together like an old time ENGLISH CLASS where the dang teacher says 'well by THIS SYMBOLISM the author was actually commenting on how good chocolate milk is' only this time we get to talk on TINGLERS and your teacher is the buckaroo himself, chuck tingle.

as man name of chuck i have a lot of easter eggs in my books, and this post is just ONE OF MANY where we pull apart every layer. if you have a reading club for this book it might be a fun companion to trot through once you are all finished. if that is the case you should start with the first deconstructing damascus post. i will leave links to them all here IN ORDER

DECONSTRUCTING DAMASCUS #1

DECONSTRUCTING DAMASCUS #2

DECONSTRUCTING DAMASCUS #3

HOWEVER these deconstructing damascus posts SHOULD NOT BE READ UNLESS YOU ARE DONE WITH THE BOOK. there are heckin spoilers EVERYWHERE in these posts so do not peek at them until you are ready.

alright below this line the dang spoilers begin. BIG TIME SPOILER WARNING. lets trot

DECONSTRUCTING DAMASCUS #4: BIBLICAL CAPITALISM

we have taken lots of time to discuss the various layers of symbolism in this book, but for FINAL POST of deconstructing damascus i would like to talk about the literal layer, specifically ONE BIG THEME that weaves throughout the story of rose, saul, willow and kingdom of the pine.

that theme is CAPITALISM.

kingdom of the pine, the church in this story, is intentionally NOT THAT STRANGE in their beliefs. it would be very easy for me to write a book where the christian sect are revealed as some twisted monsters performing all kinds of dark rituals in the name of evil itself, but when the big reveal comes it is something much more HORRIFIC and unexpected.

kindgom of the pine members are not snarling, oozing, otherworldly, creatures. the members are just people, and their beliefs are horrifically STANDARD. kingdom of the pine worships CAPITALISM.

these church members believe in the traditional tenants of CHRISTIANITY along with the traditional tenants of BUSINESS. what makes them scary is that they whole heartedly believe that 'the ends justify the means'

lets start with prophet cobel, the founder of the church. his visions came during THE INDUSTREAL REVOLUTION, occuring when he was injured by a manufacturing machine and lost his hand. the coma from prophet cobels accident is where he received his message from god. he realized that, for a church to succeed, it needed to act like a BUSINESS.

many buckaroos have asked 'WHY is the church called kingdom of the pine?' and this is EXACTLY WHY. many churches are named for spiritual aspects. this sect could have easily been 'kingdom of the holy word' 'kingdom of the spirit' 'kingdom of HIS name' EXCEPT prophet cobel knew the importance of MATERIAL and CURRENCY and GOODS. he is not just worshipping JESUS, he is worshipping THE CROSS ITSELF. so 'the pine' in kingdom of the pine is symbolic of worshipping through a PRODUCT, in this case the little wooden cross that you might sell during a fundraiser. not kingdom of the son, the father, or the holy spirit, but kingdom of the PINE. THE WOOD ITSELF. THE PRODUCT.

by combining christianity and capitalism, prophet cobel created a monster, but not one that creeps through a dark swamp with sharp teeth and red eyes. he created something much more existentially dangerous AND not all that unheard of in reality. this isnt an imaginary monster that lurks under your bed. IT IS A MONSTER THAT IS ALREADY HERE.

capitalism is the answer for ANOTHER big question regarding camp damascus: why are the demons wearing red polos?

demons in this story are dressed like minimum wave workers at a big box story because THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT THEY ARE. yes they spend their time torturing unfortunate folks in their dungeon, but NOBODY IS FREE FROM THE CAPITALISTIC SYSTEM NOT EVEN ON OTHER TIMELINES LIKE HECK ITSELF. the demons are AT WORK. some buckaroos do not notice that kingdom of the pine counselors are always in green and white (the pine material GREEN and the holy spirit WHITE, like we talked on earlier). meanwhile demons are in RED because they are contracted out. THEY HAVE BEEN HIRED IN THEIR OWN WAY and when you consider the collars around their necks, THEY ARE NOT TREATED FAIRLY BY THEIR EMPLOYERS. THEY ARE CONTROLLED IN A SYSTEM OF THEIR OWN AND COMPELLED TO WORK.

this is why they have name tags. THEY ARE AT WORK.

this is why they are constantly smiling until the collars come off. THEY HAVE CUSTOMER SERVICE SMILES.

okay buds. thank you for reading the deconstructing damascus series it was very fun for me to go deep on this book for anyone who enjoys this kind of analysis. i hope it puts a little more joy into your trot, and now if someone says 'this part of camp damascus didnt make sense to me' you can said 'LETS TALK BUD'. i am very much looking forward to doing this again when my next horror novel BURY YOUR GAYS comes out. keep a dang eye out for that one.

i will end with one more thing that did not really fit into the other catagories.

question of: is there any meaning behind willow being a big wu tang fan?

you mean besides her being the crocodile (which has ticking clock in mouth in peter pan) so rhythm itself is a very important part of her character? (as shown in her steady clicking camera shutter and the steady beat of her musical preferences?)

WHY YES CHUCK BESIDES THAT.

well now that we've discussed the theme of INFANTILIZATION in deconstructing damascus part one, and how all the young people in kingdom of the pine are kept childlike as long as possible as the FOREVER CHILDREN of never never land, i will point you towards this iconic quote from the wu tang clans ODB at the 1998 grammy awards:

LOVE IS REAL thank you for reading buckaroos - chuck

[bon2bonn]

Just you and me

Max Verstappen x driver!reader

Words count: 1.5k.

*So ........ I made Another one 🤷🏻‍♀️

Sophie took out the bag , handing it over to Max who stood besides her with poe in his arms who in turn was looking around in wonder , eyes lightening up at the swarms of people wearing different teams shirts and holding signs and what not he recognized his Papa's team shirt , which he wore one himself under his mini RBR jacket along with a cute bucket hat over his head .

After a moment of looking around he tilted his head at his father asking with a frown " Bibi? " Making Max chuckle and ask in amusement " I thought you came to watch 'me' win this weekend ? " The boy shook his head and pointed at the entrance eagerly , then raised both his arms in a victory motion excitedly cheering " Bibi , win! " , making his father groan and look in with a pout " even you betray me pow pow ? , I thought we were a team ! " Making the boy pat his father's face gently in comfort whilst smiling wide giving a teasing whisper " Bibi" then covered his mouth to hide his grin , much to his father's misery who mumbled under his breath " you spend too much time with her , you're starting to bully your own papa!? " , and his Nana's amusement who stood back and called after a second for them to get going .

Max lifted his boy up, carrying him over his shoulders where he wrapped his small arms around his Papa's head and perched his head over his as they made their way in , greeting some people along the way and stopping a couple of times to say hello to some of the drivers before dropping their belongings off at his driver's room and head straight to the garage, greeted by Christian who walked up to them pumping his fist with poe's small one, who happily greeted back , and asked him after chatting a bit " so champ , who will win this weekend ? " He eagerly answered, ignoring his father's groan and pointed at the other side of the garage " Bibi! " Then wiggled his feet making his father puts him down, steadying him for a moment making him look up with a wide smile as he was instructed " be careful , and remember, no running around, ok ? " Nodding along with every word before taking few steps away from his father's reach and made a run for the other side giggling at his father's scolding and peeked his head around the monitors stationed between the two sections of the garage, eyes lighten up when he found who he was looking for seated on the front wheel of her car and seemed to talk to her racing engineer , who sat on one of the high chairs before her , pointing at the front wings and making a frowning face , he paused for a moment then went off sprinting towards her with his arms up screaming out " BIBI!!! " .

" huh? " She looked around with a frown which turned into a wide grin at the stumbling bundle of energy running her way , and didn't hesitate to call back excitedly " pow pow ! " Scooping him up and showering him with kisses as his giggles filled the air , his small arms wrapped around her neck in a tight hug making her Pat his back gently " oh I missed you so so much " he then pulled his head back and nodded with a pout of his own pointing at himself " Poe too " she kissed his cheek " I know baby " then she gave him a once over complementing his fit which made him smile bashfully before remembering why he was so exited , trying to take his jacket off but failed before looking at her with a pout pointing at his jacket " Bibi , off! " She nods and puts him down then sat herself cross-legged beside him with her back leaning on the front wheel of the car and helped him out of it , he sighed dramatically making her chuckle a bit and it soon turned into a gleeful one once he turned around, showing her his shirt for the day before turning to face her with a determined voice " Bibi wins " she gave him a nod and lifted him up again " I'll make sure to do so , you know why ? " He shook his head and tilted his head, so she answered " cause Poe is here and when he's here , I always win " , making him scrunch up his nose before hiding his face on her shoulder , she giggled at his shy action and rubbed his back , both turned to look up once Max made his way over , calling out loudly while looking at his son's shirt " you gotta be kidding me! " Both looked at him smiling innocently as if they heard nothing , with Poe pointing at the people outside trying to distract his father " papa look ! " Only for Max to stand there with both of his hands on his hips and rolled his eyes before sitting beside them on the floor with his legs stretched out , then lifted the boy up and groan as he tickled his sides " you're out here rooting for Bibi ? , but what about your old man ? , you're leaving me in the dust ? " The boy tried to wiggle away with bursts of giggles escaping him and settled for a moment to nod in agreement to Max's question " papa , dust awaaaay ! " making his father gasp in horror as the little boy took the chance to hide behind his favourite driver , trying to find a way out as he pointed at her with a cheeky smile " Bibi too " making Max ask in a thoughtful voice " humm, she do deserve it too " she snapped her head at him and called out with her hands up in defense " woah , hey ! Don't get me dragged into this ! , I'm an innocent bystander so leave me out of it " both boys shared a mischievous grin before Max called out " get her ! " Both trapped her down and started to tickle her into breathless laughter , and when she finally yielded they took mercy and let her out this time , but she stayed on her back , feeling too comfortable to move and Poe didn't waste time plopping over her , finding himself a comfortable position and sighed when she began running her fingers through his hair, earning a giggle from her and an eye roll from Max who glared at him only to receive a scrunched up face from his son .

After a beat of silence Max turned slightly to lean on the wheel instead of facing it , then lifted her head and let it rest on his leg instead, trying to fix the mess they made of her hair and smiled as she whispered to Poe who whispered something back with a nod , his small hand on her cheek out of habit which he did when wanted her full attention , both chatting amongst themselves before they looked up at him with smiles upon their faces , he scrunched up his face and pinched Poe's nose playfully and the boy didn't hesitate to snap his teeth at him , but Max held back his hand before he could bite it off , Poe whined and call out pointing at his nose a pouted at her " Bibi! Papa mean ! " she cooed at him and gently rubbed it in a soothing motion, glaring up at Max who glared back " don't be mean " , he gapped at them and pointed at the now snuggled boy " me !? What about him ! he almost bit my fingers off! " She shrugged " you started it " the boy nodded in agreement from where he was , yawning before drifting after a beat of silence .

Max looked at them as spoke quietly " he's growing up so fast " making her pout in thought before patting his cheek in comfort " he is , give it a few years and I'll get a new teammate who won't smash my rear wings while exiting the pits before every practice session " , he rolled his eyes at her bitter reminder and groaned out " it was one time! , and for the millionth time it was gasly's fault ! " She pointed out in denial " but gasly didn't smash my wings, did he , so who's fault is it ?! " , he stared at her at her blankly for a moment before deadpanning " it's Horner's fault for letting you out first " she thought about it for a moment then nod in agreement " fair enough , remind me to get back at him for it " he nod in amusement knowing she'll give their boss hell for the next month or so , but felt relieved to get away from the storm she'll unleash upon the grid .

[soobuneary]

Infidelity (1) - Wonho X Reader

Wonho (Lee Hoseok) X (fem) Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warning: mentions of religion, cheating, drinking, unprotected sex, public sex

*cross-posted on ao3, this is a revised version of the original story

Summary: You've been having trouble navigating a rocky relationship with your boyfriend and his religious family, but one night with Hoseok at the club helps you relieve your tension.

Bored is an understatement, you decide, as you sit at a table in the back of the dimly lit club sipping water. You’re the designated driver for your friends tonight, but if you’re honest you wish you were drunk and dancing with a hot stranger. It would be a good way to forget about the argument you had from hours before.

Jacob is a decent boyfriend, but he sure knows how to make you feel like shit. He is fine as hell, olive skin, perfect white teeth, and a curly mop of perfect black curls on top of his head. But the two of you have one major conflict: Jacob is from a perfect, picket fence Christian home and you are definitely not what one would call a ‘woman of God’. His parents hate you, his siblings judge you, but the sex can be heavenly.

Thinking about it only escalates your anger. Who is he, to sit on a throne and look down on you? He drinks, he has sex, he curses! But he had the gall to condemn you for going out tonight, a Saturday night, before he drags you to a service at his church tomorrow.

Releasing a sigh you look up and do a scan of your friends on the dance floor. Everyone seems to be having a good time and no one seems to be in need of a rescue. As a designated driver, it’s always important to make sure none of your drunk friends are trapped in uncomfortable and possibly dangerous situations. To forget about how much you wish you were dancing and drinking, you open Instagram on your phone only to regret it. Smiling brightly at you, the first post is from Beth, a girl in Jacob’s bible study group. The two of them are grinning, touching cheek to cheek, and holding up what you cold only assume to be plastic cups of Hawaiian Punch. The two of you had talked many times about the big crush Beth has on your boyfriend, but he refuses to listen.

It was when you put your phone down on the table with a huff you notice the pair of piercing dark eyes staring holes in you. The eyes belong to a man who must’ve been sculpted by a Greek god. You want to look away, but his stare pulls you into a trance that was impossible to escape. He’s wearing a black and red button up, buttoned low enough to expose his chest, his blonde hair is in opposition to the dark look in his eyes. They’re not intimidating but inviting. Your heart skips a beat when you see him take one step in your direction, butyour view is abruptly occupied by one of your friends.

“Hey”, she slurred, “which drink is mine?” She giggles while twirling a strand of her purple hair on her finger.

You hand it to her carefully, though your words are frantic. “How do I look, Sophia?”

Her laugh escapes her perfect, pink lips again, “Hot as shit! I’d hit!” She haphazardly places her drink on the table after a quick sip. As she turns to head back to the dance floor you call out to her to be careful. You close your eyes and release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. ‘That looks fun…’

When you open your eyes to your surprise the handsome stranger is standing at your table. You hide your surprise the best you can, but he must have seen your blush peek through because he smirks. Extending a hand to you he introduces himself, “I’m Hoseok.”

Taking his hand you smile, “Y/N.”

“May I sit?” You scoot over in response to make room for him in the cramped booth. When he sits you realize how muscular this stranger is, and his large thigh touching yours makes you a little nervous. He gives you an up-down with his eyes, but you keep your composure. “Why aren’t you dancing, Y/N?”

His eyes finally meet yours and you feel butterflies erupting in your stomach. It definitely isn’t good to be this attracted to someone who hasn’t even spoke more than ten words to you yet. “I’m driving tonight, and I guess I just don’t feel like dancing.”

He softly caresses one of your hands resting on your lap, “Just because you’re not drinking? You don’t need to drink to have fun.”

“I know!” You protest, but you don’t flee from his touch. He is incredibly sexy, charming, and already touching you. Trouble.

“So, will you dance with me?” Hoseok sets off every warning in your head. All signs pointed to mistakes, but you nod.

He leads you to the dance floor and his hands find their place on your hips. He slips behind you, and you grind on him to the beat of the music. Feeling his hot breath on your neck only encourages you to keep going. You reach back and run your hands across his shoulders as he grinds right back onto your ass. The music pulses in your ears along with the beat of your heart, ever so slowly increasing. He suddenly turns you around but continues to dance. “Would you want to take this somewhere else?”

You stand on the tips of your toes to assure he can hear you. Lips softly caressing his ear you say, “I have to stay. I’m the designated driver, remember?”

He grabs your hands and puts them on his shoulders. After giving your neck a few gentle kisses he murmurs into your ear, “We don’t have to leave the club.”

“Aren’t you moving pretty fast? We haven’t even danced for that long.”

His next words pierced right through your resolve. “I’m just a man who knows what I want.”

The butterflies from before are now eagerly trying to escape your stomach and a tingle between your legs has lit a fire. You whisper back loud enough for only him to hear, “Show me what you have in mind.”

He leads you to the bathroom and although your brain is fighting it with all it’s might, your heart wins out and you follow his lead. Well, maybe not your heart, but something akin to desire inside of you. As soon as the door is closed and locked you are pushed back against the door. His lips hungrily attach to your exposed neck and shoulders, and his hands push off the thin straps of your satin, periwinkle dress. You grab his shoulders to steady yourself before snaking one hand down to rub his bulge. He groans in response, and you feel him smile against the dainty gold chain of your necklace.

His breathing is just as unsteady as yours as he pulls back and examines your neck. He smirks, “A cross?”

His hands are tugging on the hem of your dress and in a moment of stupidity and blatant honesty you blurt out, “My boyfriend gave it to me.”

His eyes catch yours for only a moment before he huffs, “Some boyfriend you have, he must be terrible.” One hand gingerly leaves the hem of your dress only to caress between your legs. You gasp and hold his large biceps with both hands. “You’re so wet and needy for me already. Some shit boyfriend.” He whispers the last part, and roughly bites your shoulder. You couldn’t hold yourself back any longer from grabbing his face and pressing your lips to his. The last thing you want to do is think about Jacob. You only want to get lost in Hoseok’s embrace.

His hand on your pussy gently moves, and he begins to rub your clit through your panties with his index and middle fingers. You wildly run your hands through his hair as the pace of the kiss picks up. His free hand roams over your breasts and you gasp as he pinches one of your nipples through your dress and bralette. He breaks the kiss to your dismay.

“Looks like you wanted to find someone tonight. Is he here?”

You kiss his jaw and murmur, “No. Please, I need you right now.”

He removes the hand from your panties and gently touches your cheek with his palm, but the look in his eyes is scarily dark. It sends a new wave of desire down to where you wanted him most. “I’ll fuck you until you forget him.”

His left hand abandons your breasts and slithers down to pull up the bottom of your dress. Your hands work on undoing his belt and pants, but the two of you refuse to break this kiss. It’s an ill-fought battle for dominance, and Hoseok has been winning from the start. His tongue slides over yours and you can’t help but let out a moan.

“Pretty”, he says against your lips as he lines himself up with your entrance. “What pretty sounds.” He rubs the head of his dick against your clit in hopes of ellicting a reaction.

It works, of course, and you moan loudly before remembering where you were. Your cheeks flared red with embarrassment.

“Hos- Hoseok..”

He bites your lip before releasing it. “What?”

You hook one leg around his waist, effectively pulling him even closer. “I need you in me, please”, you breathe out.

He chuckles slightly sadistically before softly grasping your chin in one hand. His other hand was still rubbing himself onto you. It was maddening. “But what about your boyfriend, Y/N?”

You groan, which makes him snicker lowly. “Please fuck me, Hoseok.” You hate begging, but he has a point. He is a stranger caught up in your infidelity.

“Jump.” You do as you’re told and wrap your legs around him. He places you against the door, and the anticipation of finally getting what you’ve been lusting over makes your mouth water. In a moment of out of place sweetness, he whispers against the cusp of your ear, “Let me know if it’s too much, please.”

Without any more warning than that, he slowly pushes into you. You bite your lip hard as he finally bottoms out. It hurts in the most pleasurable way. He was much bigger than Jacob. You don’t get much time to adjust as he pulls back and slides back in. Again and again, until he’s picking up the pace. The pleasure begins to make you teary-eyed. “More.”

A wicked laugh escapes his lips as he place a hands on the door while keeping the other hand roughly holding your ass. His lips catch yours in a heated kiss as his hips begin to snap rapidly. You grip him even tighter with your hands and legs, holding on for your life, and unknowingly also grip his dick inside of you. He releases a low growl against your lips and you’re suddenly aware of the door rattling behind you. The idea of getting caught turned you on even more. His kisses move to your neck and ear again, and you can’t help but throw your head back in pleasure. Between his sucking on your skin and his dick bringing you closer to the edge, you know you won’t last much longer, but you don’t want him to stop. Every ounce of your willpower is holding onto your orgasm and refusing to let go. Thrust after delicious thrust is eating away at you, and the pleasure so intense your head feels fuzzy.

“Let it go, baby. Cum on me, Y/N.”

You can’t hold on any longer after that, and you release around his cock. Wave after wave of ecstasy washes over your entire body making you arch your back and curl your toes. He keeps pumping into you until it the feeling is unbearable.

He quickly pulls out and unwraps you from his body. “On your knees.” The demand makes your weak knees shake more, but you comply. He pumps himself with his hand for only a few seconds before he cums all over your chest. The sight of him, jerking movements and grunts looking down on you, gets you impossibly more hot and bothered. Your breath catches in your throat as he comes off his high and locks his eyes with yours.

The eye contact only lasts a few moments before he moves to get a paper towel and wet it. Your high was wearing off, and the emptiness made you feel frozen in your place on your knees on the dirty bathroom floor. He hands the paper towel to you so you can clean yourself up, then does the same for himself. He won’t make eye contact with you as he gets dressed, and you feel awkward in this small space with him. You stand up but neither of you say anything, until he finally breaks the silence. 

You’re wiping at the little bit of cum on the neckline of your dress when he speaks. HE’s holding his phone out to you. “Your number.”

Your hands are shaking slightly as you put your name and number in. When you give it back to him, he smiles at you and leaves you alone in the bathroom with a small smirk and a “see you soon, Y/N”.

He’s out of the bathroom and you attempt to straighten yourself up. Makeup is smudged and hair is everywhere, but you can’t make yourself care. The rush of your encounter with Hoseok sticks a smile to your face and drives a rush through your heart.

When you finally make it out of the bathroom your friends inform you how late it is and how they want to go home. You look around for Hoseok, but you don’t see him. It doesn’t matter, you think, because you’re sure you’ll hear from him soon enough.

 ~~~

“Aren’t you hot, sweetie?” Jacob eyes you up and down, taking in your beige, long sleeve turtleneck dress. “It’s like 75 outside.”

“I feel fine.” You smile at him as you stand for opening prayer.

You hear his mother murmur under her breath, “At least she’s covered up for once…”

You can’t help but smirk, thinking of all the marks Hoseok left behind. ‘If only you knew…’

I hope you enjoyed it!! Thanks for reading!

[laniusbignaturals]

Can we have more Joshua/Edward headcanons please?

Joshua had a fixation on religious martyrdom throughout their entire friendship, and well before. Edward, coming from the middle class equivalent of lapsed aristocracy himself, related to the sense of perpetual danger which defined Joshua's upbringing in a high control religious group. Many of their earliest talks were about Christian persecution in Rome, which often dovetailed into express lamenting of their circumstances.

Like every awful guy from LA, Edward has tattoos. He used to have the Followers' cross inked on his chest, but he had Joshua flay it from his skin a few years after founding the Legion. It was right after they lost a skirmish, so Edward needed to be reassured of his masculinity and Joshua needed to be reminded that Edward trusted him. (They took a bath together to loosen him up first, it was very romantic.)

Joshua can beat Edward in a fight. Edward's technique is to wear people down with so much pain that they have to focus on defending themself. Joshua's nothing if not resilient, so when they wrestle, he always wins. Edward does not accept this graciously. He once bit him so hard his mouth filled with blood while pinned to the floor. Their marriage was consummated this way.

The key difference between them is that Edward would be content with having Joshua killed. Joshua would not be satisfied with that. Murdering Edward once would not be worth losing him, the “him” that exists in Joshua’s mind - this tantalizingly distant figure of guilt and venom that can be punished over and over again until all of Joshua’s rage is extinguished. Which it never will be, so Joshua would end up contriving for it to go on and on and on. It is better that they never see each other again.

Joshua taught Edward to shoot! It was largely just an excuse to feel him up before they started screwing, but Edward didn’t care.

Edward is as open minded in bed as your average vicious chauvinist, meaning he struggles to ask for what he wants and gets touchy about perceived feminization. Joshua, on the other hand, grew up insulated from healthy sexuality and was taught to resist and downplay any extramarital urges. So as they became involved sexually, Joshua usually took the lead. That doesn’t mean he topped, just that he had a lot of the ideas.

Make no mistake, Joshua had Edward slotted into the role of Wicked Secular Temptress from day one. Those suspicions just got louder after they started fucking and Joshua learned Edward’s actual sexual history, and they reached a fever pitch after the burning. Ed’s own, equally misogynistic interpretation of Joshua had him as a weak, deceptive influence who he allowed to stay close to him as part of a continuous lapse in judgment, some last bit of softness left over from his profligate youth which he finally extinguished with his execution. They think this in spite of the facts that 1. Joshua was actively trying to convert Edward to Mormonism as soon as they met and 2. Edward failed to kill Joshua, and made the troops more scared of him in the process.

Joshua can cook, Edward can clean, and both of them would rather get shot in the teeth than do that for the other.

Edward’s mom was dead by the time the Legion was founded, it was part of why he left the Boneyard in the first place. He didn’t dwell much on Bill, since their relationship ended with Edward feeling like he was still in control of the dynamic, and the rest of his social circle were always disposable to him. Joshua, on the other hand, really struggled with the (seemingly) permanent absence of his expansive family, inner conflict which he vented onto the people Edward put him in command of. This harsh, paternalistic behavior delighted Edward, reminding him of the type of man he always wanted to imagine was his father. Their relationship thrived on feedback loops of release and comfort such as this.

On that note: Edward’s mother would hate Joshua, and Joshua's parents & grandparents & aunts & uncles would all hate Edward. This is why they were drawn to each other in the first place.

[charmedreincarnation]

https://www.tumblr.com/charmedreincarnation/715801428071972864/hey-maya-what-are-your-thoughts-on-the?source=share

Not this anon but wait that means I can manifest a certain afterlife? Like there isn't one destined afterlife but it can be whatever we want it to be?

I wish there was a voice audio setting because I would tell you guys so many stories! but anyways I’ll tell you guys about a specific occurrence that happened when I was around 13/16 that changed my perspective on everything.

Basically I used to go to church often . My family is pretty religious, and at the time, I wasn’t even really religious, but I still followed Christianity. I had gotten into manifesting but I still believed in god pretty avidly (and still do just not in a religious way) so I didn’t mind going.

Anyways there was this super religious girl who I would talk to everytime I went. guys I mean she was giving cult. Cross tattoos, Bible reading club everyday, and she could read the Bible word for word backwards probably! I don’t really like super avidly religious people who make their entire life abt god and every conversation abt it, but idk for her I could tolerate it. She was super sweet and her passion was admirable.

I remember she stopped coming to church and I knew something was wrong because this girl would rather die than miss service. Turns out she was in an accident and was probably going to die, so we held a huge fundraiser for her family. At the time I didn’t know what happened to her because no one talked about it after the fundraiser and I didn’t have her phone number so I just assumed she died.

Then when I was 16, so atp pretty into manifesting and not into church anymore I saw her at a tarot shop.. that she owned. Now it’s a general consensus astrology, tarots and stuff is against Christianity. (not that I cared regardless I still was into that shit) but The Sarah (fake name) I knew Would never step foot into what she called a “devil worshipping temple”

But it was definitely her and she looked so different. She used to have long brown hair, wore traditional clothing, would never show skin etc. this girl had a pixie cut with black hair, so many tattoos of sigils and zodiac stuff on her body, so many piercings, and was wearing booty shorts!! I almost didn’t recognize her but she said hi to me and I was in shock. This bitch owns a crystal shop.. Holy Sarah owns a crystal shop!! atp I believed the rapture was about to start bc what the hell

Anyways I asked her how she was and what happened, because I assumed she was dead. And she said she was. She had been officially dead for 5 straight seconds, but was “brought” back with those machines. I told her she looks good but why the change in lifestyle. she said when she died, she was in a black space of nothing but still had thoughts. She didn’t see Jesus or the purgatory or whatever, all she had was herself. She was crying to herself in this void like space as she knew it was the end, and the atheists were right. We become nothing when we die. Then she just wished to come back, and she said she would do anything to come back, and then she did. She awoke again and when she did she got into spirituality and it changed her life.

16 year old me at this point was pretty deep into my spiritual research and she basically confirmed what I had believed since I was 8. We choose what happenes when we die and we can do the same for our life on earth. I pretty much talked to her for hours, until I had to go because my mom doesn’t want me in those “weird” shops either. Anyways I assume the “space” she was in was the void state, but I didn’t know what that was until the end of 2021 ofc so I couldn’t make the connection at the time.

But I mean it makes sense. we have free will, so if we can decide every aspect of our life while alive, why would that change at death. death isn’t the end, just a beginning of whatever new chapter you want or believe it to be. Just my belief ofc :) you’re inclined to believe whatever !

[theabdlstruggle]

Call it what it is… Sin!

First, this one was hard to write. It took me well over a month, I believe, to actually sit down and write it all out. It was hard because I kept judging myself for writing it. I did not feel like I was qualified enough to write on this subject. I screw up and I sin EVERY DAY! But then again, who of us doesn’t?? At the end of the day, the fact that I follow Christ and He forgives me every day and every time for my sins, just proves His faithfulness to me. Not that I have done anything to deserve His faithfulness or done anything to deserve His grace, but that He already freely gives it to those who follow Him. So with that said, here we go…

SIN: this is not a topic usually accepted very well, but like anything else, it must be spoken of. Why? Because WE ALL DO IT! EVERYBODY SINS! You know it, I know it; I do it, you do it, so why doesn’t anybody ever talk about it? Why is it so secret?? Why do we get up on our high horse, look down on others, point the finger, and then proclaim our superiority over them?? Are we not ALL on the same page? Are we not ALL on the same sinking ship? So then, we are all equal… or are we?

Now, when I speak of equality I don’t mean everybody is the same, or has the same skills, etc… just look around this community; BUT, when I say we are all equal I mean that we are ALL headed straight for HELL!! Yes, every one of us is headed straight for Hell, UNLESS, we recognize the obvious fact that we ALL sin and are in NEED of a savior. Someone to redeem us, someone to make us righteous, someone to make us whole again; and that person is Jesus Christ! What is it about HIM that makes the whole world get into an uproar?? Why is HE the ONLY PERSON (WORL WIDE) who draws a division line?? Why is HE the ONLY PERSON to claim to have the ability to SAVE man’s souls???? Jesus was alive, there is plenty of historical evidence for that, and He died, again, plenty of historical evidence for that as well, AND, it is well documented that He rose again and came back to life. Not to mention the 300+ prophecies made about Him BEFORE He was born. WHAT IS IT ABOUT CHRIST THAT SEEMS TO DIVIDE THE WORLD??!!!!! Could it be, that He actually IS the savior of Humanity?? That He can redeem mans’ souls??? What if it were true? What would you say? If you knew that the ONLY way to escape HELL ITSELF, was to be perfect from moment born to moment of death, what would you do? What would you give up? WHAT IF, the ONLY thing you had to do was call on HIS NAME and believe? Would you do it? Would you seek out His name? He has already been knocking at the door of your heart. What would it take for you to let him in and begin a relationship with Him?

Like I said before, we are ALL on the same SINKING SHIP!!! The difference between some one who follows Christ and has a relationship with Him and someone who does not is that the Christian (Christ follower) has ALREADY put the life vest on and will be saved. They may not know much about it, they may not know how to swim efficiently with it on, but the fact still remains, THEY HAVE IT ON, they are wearing it, and when they hit the water, it will keep them afloat!!! At some point we will ALL stand before the judgment seat of God. We will either be on the left or the right. Those who have trusted Christ through receiving the gift give freely from the cross or those who have not. Christ bared our sins upon Himself so He could open up a path in order to have relationship with US. HE PURSUES US!!! Christ stands at the door of YOUR HEART knocking RIGHT NOW!! Open it up, say, “Hello”, ask Him the TOUGH QUESTIONS, He is big enough to answer them. He loves YOU and He wants you. May you find love and acceptance through relationship in Jesus Christ Himself.

[ineffabildaddy]

Hello! I'm sorry if this question sounds a bit weird, but I've just stumbled upon your post about aziraphale and crowley's first time and seen "#i don't care that they can manifest superdicks or superpussies or superboth"

I'm new to the fandom I was wondering if it has ever been discussed what their sex and gender would be as in mainstream Christianity angels are considered agendered and to have no sex. All of the posts I've seen about them use he/him pronouns and talk about dicks and yours is the first one I've seen to open the possibility to something else so that's why I got curious

On another note I agree with your original post, they would last 30 seconds and would leave the sex marathon or the tender sex for later.

Sorry again if it's weird a weird question I'm already regretting asking

Have a nice day!

hi!!! thank you for asking me this, i'm delighted that you're interested in this aspect of the good omens universe and that you came to me about it:-)

gonna put my answer under the cut as it's quite long!

this is what the book has to say about angels and their potential sexes:

... angels are sexless unless they really want to make an effort.

what most people have interpreted this to mean is that angels and demons are not inherently possessing of any particular primary sex characteristics (pasted from google: primary sex characteristics are those organs and other physiological structures that are directly related to sexual reproduction. These include both the primary (ovaries, testes) and secondary (vagina, penis) sex organs).

while they may have secondary sex characteristics (pasted from google: a secondary sex characteristic is any physical characteristic developed at puberty which distinguishes between the sexes but is not directly involved in reproduction) as part of their corporations - for example, tits or facial hair - most fans believe that angels and demons would have to actively 'make an effort' to manifest a penis or balls or a vulva or any combination or variation therein.

-

we've also got examples of what humans would view as gender variance within certain angels and demons the show - for example, there are angels with almost universally masculine names who are played by women (e.g. michael). these examples are largely seen to be a nod to the idea that gender identity is at least somewhat arbitrary for angels and demons.

here's a quote of a direction from the script book that sheds some light on this matter:

(There is a similarity to the angels, although they cross all races and do not necessarily have obvious genders. They all like wearing suits.)

-

here's another significant quote from the book, which is also paraphrased in the show:

For those of angel stock or demon breed, size, and shape, and composition, are simply options.

in fan content, this largely translates as follows: if crowley, aziraphale or indeed any other angel or demon wanted to 'make an effort', they could physically manifest whichever primary and secondary sex characteristics they chose. they are assigned a "corporation" - a body, or a 'vessel', as it's referred to in the tv show supernatural - that they must take care of, as we learn throughout the course of the story both in the book and the show, but the fanon view of this is that within that corporation, they can configure 'gender expression' and indeed have sex however they like.

-

why do angels and demons almost all have a perceived gender identity to viewers, even if they themselves do not subscribe to the idea of gender identity at all? why does gabriel read as a man, why does shax read as a woman, why is beelzebub referred to neutrally?

these questions are interesting and valid ones. gender expression always has a purpose in story, and good omens is no exception. i've actually got a detailed post that's been sat in my drafts for months about why i think that each significant character, and why the occasional side character, has the perceived gender expression they have. if people are interested, i shall go into this in another post.

-

all this to say - most people interpret crowley and aziraphale as at least vaguely male, in that they largely refer to both characters with he/him pronouns. for a lot of people, penis = male (even though this isn't inherently true), so most fans also like to think of them both as possessing penises by default, should they choose to possess any genitals at all.

popular headcanons posit crowley as genderfluid, due to their variety of gender presentations throughout the ages in the show (see the crucifixion scene and nanny ashtoreth), and aziraphale as agender, due to the way he's described in detail for the first time in the book, presumably among other things.

here's the first quote that i committed to this post in context, included here so you might understand better why people could see aziraphale as agender:

Many people, meeting Aziraphale for the first time, formed three impressions: that he was English, that he was intelligent, and that he was gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide. Two of these were wrong: Heaven is not in England, whatever certain poets may have thought, and angels are sexless unless they really want to make an effort.

especially in the time in which the book was written, gender identity and sexuality were and are inextricably tied to one another. to be gay was and largely still is to be a man who exclusively likes men, and therefore to refute the human assumption that aziraphale is gay is to also refute the idea that he is a man at all. of course, in the minds of terry and neil, this passage probably served to make a general point about angels with regards to gender and sex more than anything. however, some fans have drawn upon it to interpret aziraphale as being distinctly without a sense of gender identity. there'll be more to why people think of aziraphale as agender, but i don't know much about this aspect of fanon, so i'm not the best person to ask (someone reblog with more info pls?)

do feel free to interpret aziraphale and crowley's relationship to gender identity and sex characteristics in whichever manner you see fit :-)

-

the moral of the story: read, write, and look at fanart about crowley and aziraphale presenting with whatever characteristics you enjoy seeing them possess! i, for example, exist in a gorgeous little transmasculine corner of the internet where we love to write and read a male-presenting crowley with a vulva. this is not a requirement by any means for me to enjoy a fic where gender and sex presentation or sexual activity is relevant, it's just something i like in particular - and you get to decide what you like too, if you have any preference at all :-)

the great thing about crowley and aziraphale as characters is that, due to their ethereal (or occult, haha) nature, you can make them into whatever you want and put them wherever and whenever you want and it won't not make sense. go forth and be free with it!

i hope this clears some things up for you - if you have any more questions or thoughts, please do let me know<3

[noa-de-cajou]

Zuza and Idalia belong to @soupedepates

Louis belongs to @corneille-but-not-the-author

______

Mom never told me who my father was. Apparently, she doesn't remember. I believed her. She tried to raise me alone, as best as she could, but she came from Poland with nothing but a base level in english, a vague understanding of french and a graphist degree. She was alone, she fell in love with Christian and they got married when I was three.

I couldn't do this alone, Misiu, do you understand?

Mom never told me Christian was beating her. I started talking really late, my first word was blue for the bruises he left on her cheeks and the next one was bitch because I just repeated what I heard from him. Mom tried to overwrite it by speaking to me in polish. It worked, for a time.

To nie twoja wina, she said.

It's not your fault.

The teachers never told me what was wrong with me, or why the letters would jumble and the words undo themselves in front of my eyes. I wasn’t putting in enough effort. I wasn’t academically smart. I listened. They knew better, after all, didn't they? I couldn’t even translate documents for Mom.

The other kids never told me why they’d call me names or mock my accent. I never understood why they liked to do that. And I could never defend myself with my words.

But I never hit.

Because mom told me I was a good kid and good kids don’t hit people. Even when they're mean. Good kids don’t hurt people.

But she never told me why Christian was allowed to hurt us.

Bronya, Bazyli and Simowiet were the first to tell me it was okay to cry. They never hit me when I did. I felt good. I felt safe.

Bronya and Bazyli always told people what they thought, gave them a piece of their mind, they were always good with words. Even though they had been to the hospital for so long everybody else thought they were weird. And Simowiet always talked calmly, never yelled.

Never hit.

So I never hit either.

They were my very first friends.

Yet they took forever to tell me where Simowiet went after what happened to his stepmom. About what happened to Jacek after that.

Misiu, everyone here knew about the mister Adamski, you know, Mom said. Bad man, that one.

Yeah. Just like everyone knows about Christian. But I never know anything. And no one who knows things is doing anything.

No one told me anything, so I tried to get stronger on my own. No one told me I wasn't supposed to start this early. No one told me I wasn't supposed to stop eating. Bronya yelled at me for it when she learned.

No one told me how to defend myself. So when Christian hit me one too many times, I retaliated.

I hit.

It worked.

He bled.

Mom cried.

He never hit me again and neither did I.

But I knew I crossed a line. I knew I was just as bad. How could I do otherwise? No one ever told me how to help.

Hanko never told us that his parents were beating him either, but I knew. I guessed. He had the same bruises that I used to wear on my wrists.

Even so, I couldn't do anything when they pushed Bazyli down the stairs. Couldn't do anything to save them afterwards.

It's not your fault, their eyes said.

Bazyli told us to keep it a secret. So I did. I don’t mind that much. I understand why he doesn't want to say it. But it hurts to be lying to Bronya and Tonia.

Then we enter uni.

Bazyli never tells me why he looks more and more tired with each day or why he hides his neck.

Bronya never tells me why she looks at me the way she does. I think I might know. But I don’t dare to hope.

Simowiet never tells me about his problems, or his life, or his family, even though we live together.

Zuza never tells us about the pills in her cabinet. She never tells us about the arguments with Idalia either.

I can take a lot of things. I can take a punch or two. I can keep secrets. I can nod along. I can deal with being stupid. I can carry everyone on my back.

But I can't help if no one ever tells me anything.

Maybe no one ever wants me to help, but they need help. And they tell me that me being around is more than enough, but it isn't.

But I can't force anything out of anyone.

You’re a good kid, Misiu.

You’re a good guy, Milosz.

It's not your fault.

I get it. I get it, alright? It’s never my fault. It's never under my control.

But what’s the point of being good when everyone around you consider themselves bad?

So I smile and say nothing and I go to the gym and I run and I push and I grit my teeth and I hit and hit and hit and hit and hit and hit and hit

And I won't tell them about how I feel

Because

No one

Ever

Tells me

Anything –

“Your stance is wrong! You need to put your shoulder into it.”

It was just two sentences, thrown around at the gym, and then he was gone. I don’t think he remembers it at all.

But Louis tells me things.

Louis told me about the bet. Louis told me Bronya likes me. Louis told me that I look handsome. Louis told me that he didn't start working out for good reasons. Louis told me not every part of himself deserves to be known and I don’t agree. Louis told us he loved us.

He doesn't know how much it means to me.

All I ever wanted was just to feel

Like I'm worth sharing things to.

It feels possible now.

…

I didn’t know it could be that easy to breathe before.

[gayleviticus]

in intra-christian arguments about LGBTQ+ issues i think there's always two main levels: 'what does the Bible say?' and 'what is our overarching narrative about queerness?', and i think a lot of resources that promote an affirming stance don't always take this into account.

by this distinction i mean that there's a difference between arguments like 'Leviticus 22.18 is about incest' and 'Know them by their fruits and the fruits of being non-affirming stink' - they're both biblically based, but one is defensively batting away clobber verses used as weapons, and the other is casting a broader narrative that gives queer affirmation some kind of weight.

conversely, for traditionalists, the difference is between something like 'Romans 1 says homosexuality is unnatural' and 'we all need to carry our crosses so suffering with suppressing your sexuality is noble and Christlike'. Again, both biblically based, but one serves to tell you what to do, and the other is the underpinning ideological justification.

(incidentally, i think it's quite frustrating that the anti-trans position in Christianity essentially relies on maybe one Bible verse we all ignore anyway by letting women wear pants, and is otherwise entirely dependent on having constructed an anti-trans narrative that is hardly the only or even obvious option for Christians)

so i think there are four quadrants to arguing for LGBTQ+ affirmation: 1) dismissing traditionalist readings of Scripture (e.g. 'Paul was only familiar with pederasty not committed adult homosexuality') 2) offering queer-affirming readings of Scripture (e.g. 'David and Jonathan were gay' or the Ethiopian eunuch) 3) Dismissing traditionalist narratives about why suppressing queerness is justifiable and good (e.g. 'carry your cross', 'gender complementarity', 'your identity is in Christ alone) 4) Constructing narratives about why queer affirmation is good (e.g. 'Know them by their fruits', 'Love is love', 'God created transsexuals the same reason he created wheat but not bread')

Now, I think a lot of arguments you see tend to focus on 1, 2, or 4.

Arguments for 1 I think often lack a lot of nuance and can honestly be quite bad, at least the passing ones you see online ("'homosexuality' as a term was added to the bible in the 1940s" is a huge oversimplification for starters, and i think the idea Leviticus is talking about pedophilia is confusing it with Paul's Epistles). But I think there are definitely good arguments out there, especially in books like Brownson's Bible Gender and Sexuality.

Arguments for 2 I think, to be honest, are often far too speculative and anachronistic to be helpful - we can certainly read David and Jonathan or the centurion and his slave etc queerly, but I think it goes too far to definitively project it back onto them for the sake of arguments. I think there's fruitful potential in reading things like Gentile inclusion in Acts queerly, or perhaps even, idk, the Book of Job. But these are easily the most spurious and least helpful arguments (which is not to say the Bible can't be interpreted pro-queerly; just that that comes out more in #4 in constructing pro-queer narratives).

Arguments for 4, I think, are actually quite powerful because they provide the underlying engine of actually wanting to be affirming. It's all well and good to argue dry technical points of ancient Hebrew or Greek exegesis, but if there's otherwise no compelling moral issue at stake - oppression of LGBTQ people, rejection of love, the risk of being locked into legalistic thinking, even just alienation from your LGBTQ+ loved ones - why would anyone care?

BUT on the other hand, they can also lapse into cliche and feel like arguments from emotion when they get prioritised over arguments about the actual text/theology. Which is frustrating, because in a sense these arguments are 'more important' - what's going to keep you committed to an affirming position long term, a realisation that the meaning of 'arsenokoites' in 1 Corinthians is ambiguous, or wholeheartedly believing non-affirming theology is ripe with bad and harmful fruits?

Finally, arguments for 3, I think, are relatively lacking. Arguments constructing pro-queer narratives implicitly counter anti-queer ones, obviously, and I think a bit of work has been done around dismantling gender complementarity (albeit not always in the context of LGBTQ+ issues) and the whole 'my identity is in Christ' (probably thanks to the Side B community tbh).

But I feel like there are other narratives that have gone not really explicitly addressed, like 'we all carry our crosses', 'Christians are called to be in the world and not of it; LGBTQ+ inclusion is a secular whim'. And I think these especially are narratives that we progressives are inclined to just dismiss out of hand, because they just feel inherently culty and authoritarian; they don't start from a place of good faith, the assumptions are faulty, let's not bother.

But I think it would be worth picking these apart further for the sake of people stuck in homophobic churches - fruitfully deconstructing what 'carrying your cross' means and the role of suffering in the Christian life, or clearly identifying where LGBTQ+ affirmation comes from within Christian theology, or working out why it's not a problem the secular world took the lead on this (because the Holy Spirit is working throughout history and is not so weak as to be limited to the church, because the church's role isn't necessarily been to be the only arbiters of moral progress, because religious institutions becoming corrupt and losing sight of justice is not a new concept to Christians etc)

[seigephoenix]

Kinktober 2024: Spanking

Not your typical spanking prompt. I did enjoy writing it. Marlowe is just too sassy. A blend of Paragon and Renegade.

Ship: Marlowe Shepard x Zaeed Massani Content Warning: p in v sex, sassy, bratty, slight blasphemy for any practicing Christians reading, against the wall, spanking Length: 2.5k

Marlowe sat with her legs crossed under her on the couch in her cabin, digging through some more purchases she’d gotten at the Citadel.  She’d never had much impulse control when it came to shopping, mostly due to not having access to shops.  On ships she mostly had to deal with the quartermaster and they rarely sold anything besides the basics.  Marlowe held up the silky nightgown in front of her.  She’d tried to get comfortable wearing them, ever since that night Zaeed had visited her.  He hadn’t paid her another visit, not that she was bitter or anything about that, but she had felt good wearing the lingerie after that.  Marlowe expanded her collection a bit and only wore it when they were not out on a mission.  Though…  She did remember him saying something about losing his mind if she ever wore them on a mission.

On Omega

“We’re shooting around the slums again?  Why’re we after the batarians this time?” Zaeed asked as he and Miranda accompanied Marlowe to the mission.  Miranda blew out an aggravated breath.

“There are concerns the batarians or vorcha are tampering with the air quality.  Aria suggested we investigate it,” she reminded Zaeed as they moved through the cramped corridors.  They’d come across the plant and took out the batarians but not without Marlowe getting shot.  This one got through her shields but she didn’t let Miranda or Zaeed get too close to see how bad it was.  They had to keep moving forward.  Marlowe tripped and stumbled as they pushed through the last wave of batarians.

“Shepard!” Miranda yelled.  “Cover me Massani!”  She whirled and slid behind Marlowe’s cover as she ran a hand over her to see where the damage was.  “Shepard…”  Her fingers came away wet with blood.

“Sorry, I did hit it with some medigel but I guess it reopened.”  Marlowe clenched her jaw against the sharp throb of pain.  “I’ll get Chakwas to look at it when we get back to the ship.  We have to get through this,” Marlowe said and Miranda sighed.  Marlowe hissed and cursed when the other woman slapped medigel over the wound.

“You deserved that one.  Don’t ruin all that hard work just yet Shepard.”  Miranda dashed back towards another barricade and helped Zaeed return fire.  Marlowe tossed out her little turret and that took care of the last stragglers choking up the air filtration plant.  Marlowe leaned back against the barricade with a weary sigh as Miranda finished the clean up.  She closed her eyes and grunted when she felt a boot nudge her.

“I’m not dead, yet.”  She opened one eye and saw Zaeed standing there looking pissed off.  “What did I do now?  I know why Miranda’s pissed at me.”  Marlowe grumbled as she braced her arm on the barricade and shoved to her feet.  She wouldn’t dare show any weakness and bit the inside of her cheek to keep from wobbling.  “Let’s get back to the Normandy,” she said as she brushed past Zaeed without looking at him.

Normandy

Marlowe tossed her helmet into her locker by the airlock before peeling off the rest of her armor.  Miranda pointed towards the elevator and Marlowe held up her hands as she agreed to see the doctor.  Zaeed was watching the interaction carefully with his own helmet held in his hands.  He headed in the direction of Shepard’s quarters.

Twenty minutes later, Marlowe walked into her cabin still rubbing her ear.  Chakwas had chewed her left and right for the reckless injury.  Marlowe had changed into her casual clothes after that under armor suit had been declared unfit and tossed into the incinerator.  Marlowe huffed at the memory and looked over as she spotted movement by her couch.

“Massani.”

“Shepard.”

Marlowe let out a sigh as she walked towards her desk, just because she’d been shot didn’t mean the reports could be put off.  “What are you doing in my cabin?  Do you have something else you need?” Marlowe asked without looking up from the data pad.  She was sore, tired, and wanted to get into her bed and sleep into the next century.  She looked up when he didn’t answer, she’d expected a lecture or something.  “Zaeed?”

“Come here Shepard.”  Marlowe gave him a sideways glare for his tone but set the data pad down and ambled over to him.  She crossed her arms, drawing his attention to the stark white bandage covering her shoulder.  He reached out and grasped her wrist.

“Hey!” Marlowe barely had time to protest before he tugged and she wound up sprawled across his lap.  She placed one hand on the floor to give herself some leverage before she pushed up, but he pushed down on her lower back.  “What the hell is wrong with you Massani!?  You’d better let me up!” Marlowe snarled as she braced her feet.  She yelped when he kicked her feet out from under her and she landed hard across his thighs.  “If you reopen this wound, I’m pointing Chakwas and Lawson your way.” Marlowe glared at him from where she was.

“Seems like you’re not in a position to really do anything are you Shepard?” Zaeed asked.  He splayed his fingers out over her lower back, keeping her in place.  She clenched her jaw but he wasn’t budging.  All that N7 training and Spectre training…  Ugh!  Marlowe’s eyes darted up to him.  “If looks could kill, I’d be a dead man, but you’re not going anywhere Shepard.  Not yet anyway.”

“What the hell is your problem Massani?  What?  Gonna spank me like a kid?  Fuck off,” Marlowe snapped before yelping when his hand cracked against her ass through the cargo pants.  Silence stretched between them and Zaeed questioned if he’d gone too far, he’d only wanted to teach her a lesson.  “Smack me like that one more time, and I’ll bench you the rest of this mission.”  Marlowe promised him as she looked back over her shoulder at him.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time Shepard,” Zaeed retorted bringing his hand down for another slap over her pants.  She began to struggle in earnest but he kept his hand right against her lower back.

“If you don’t let me up right now Massani, you’d better not ever let me up.”  The sinister tone had his cock reacting.  She looked over at his lap before back up at his face with shock replacing her anger.  “Really!?” Marlowe shouted as she felt him straining against her side.  “Getting off on me threatening you?”

“No.”  She hissed when a third slap stung her ass cheeks.  She could ignore bullet wounds, she’d handled insults being thrown right at her face, but what she could not handle was being treated like a child.

“Massani…  One last chance.  Let me go and I’ll still play.”  Marlowe was cut off from her sentence when he simply yanked her pants down.  “You asshole!”

“Fucking hell Shepard, were you wearing these on the mission today?” Zaeed demanded as the black silk was revealed.  She was wearing the skimpiest pair of black silk panties, with the silk barely clinging to the dusky pink globes of her ass.  She flipped him off from her position and his eyes narrowed.

“Had the matching bra too, but that got shot to hell by the batarians,” Marlowe snapped as she struggled once again to get free.  This time his hand slapped bare skin and she flinched at the pain.  “Massani.”  Marlowe glared over her shoulder at him as her hair had come out of its serviceable bun.  The length draped over her shoulder with the ends brushing the floor.

“How long is your hair Shepard?” He reached for it letting the dark purple strands flow over his fingers.  Marlowe’s lip curled back in aggravation when he hooked one finger underneath the silk and tugged.  She slapped a hand over her mouth at the moan that wanted to escape.  The silk rubbed against her clit just right and her thighs squeezed together.  “I heard that.”

“You didn’t hear shit, old man.” Marlowe snapped and tried to gain her footing again, only for him to knock them out from under her again.  “You are getting on my nerves.”

“Good.”  She yelped when his hand cracked across her already stinging ass cheeks once again.  Except this time he slid his hand between her legs and massaged her clit through the black silk.  Marlowe moaned at the burst of pleasure low in her belly.  She clenched her jaw against the feeling and glared at Zaeed through the curtain of hair in her face.  The stinging only heightened that pleasure, brought it to a razor sharp edge inside her.  She groaned as the throbbing there matched the throbbing in her clit.  “You were reckless today.”  Marlowe hissed when his hand came down again.

“I’m always reckless in case that missed your brilliant observation skills there Massani.”  She huffed and tried to shift again, but his hand didn’t budge.  “Can’t get to N7 or Spectre by playing safe and nice.”

“There’s assessing risks and then the shit you pulled today.”  Marlowe opened her mouth to retort when his fingers slipped past the silk to find her wet and aching for him.  “What’s this?  As much as you mouth off, you’re getting off to this.”

“Fuck off Massani if you think I’m getting off to you spanking me like a little kid,” she snarled but he merely found her clit and pinched.  Her fingers curled against the floor at the sharp heat spearing through her.

“Hmm.  You sure about that Shepard?” Zaeed leaned over her back while his fingers teased her clit until the heat threatened to consume her mind.  Right as her body was poised to fall over the edge his hand pulled away and slapped hard against her ass.

“That is it.” Marlowe clenched her jaw.  She hated to do it, but she was through being toyed with.  She put her other hand on the ground, wincing at the flash of pain from her wound, and then pushed.  She knew she’d reopened her bullet wound but she was also free from Zaeed’s hold.  She kicked away her pants and glared down at him as the crimson slowly seeped into the bandage on her shoulder.  His eyes zeroed in on it and she saw the concern there.  Too bad he should have thought about that before he tortured her.

Before he could react, she straddled his waist and sat down right on his bulging cock.  She knocked his hands away from her waist and met his sneer with one of her own.  She wouldn’t let him call the shots anymore.  Her fingers slid between them and pulled down his pants until his cock was freed.  Zaeed realized what she was doing and grabbed her wrist to stop her.  She merely lifted herself and sat down on his cock before he could even utter a protest.

“Fucking hell.” Zaeed hissed when he was buried deep inside her body.  Her hips rocked against his in a slow, torturous rhythm.  His head fell back against the couch when she angled her hips so his cock went deep.  “You’re not doing yourself any favors with this either Shepard.”

“No, I’m not.  But this is going to drive you crazy too Massani,” Marlowe explained and grinned when he cursed her under his breath.  “I’m already fucking you.”  He reached around and pinched her ass.

“Brat.”  Marlowe chuckled and agreed she was a brat.  Marlowe smirked when he glared at her for how slow she moved.  She sensed the growing frustration in him but she savored it.  She was done playing with him though, and just wanted to come.

Zaeed hissed and grabbed her hips when she began to move faster.  “Jesus.”  Marlowe grinned as she looped her arms around his neck.

“Jesus isn’t fucking your cock right now Zaeed.”  Her teeth nipped at his chin as her body squeezed his cock.  Marlowe chuckled as she heard him mutter something about her smart mouth being put to use.  She reached up and grasped the front of his throat, tilting his chin until he was looking at her.  “You’d love if I sucked your cock, but right now I’m going to fuck you until all you know is my name.”

“You’re a bitch.”  Marlowe leaned in and brushed her lips across his in a whisper soft caress.

“Sweet talker.”  She laughed when his hands grabbed her ass and he stood up.  She hooked her ankles behind his back and grunted when her back hit the wall beside her tiny office space.

“Now who’s in charge?” Zaeed whispered in her ear but she merely gave him an indulgent smile that pissed him off.  “You’re so smug.”

“Well deserved actually.”  Marlowe grinned as his hips snapped up against hers in a brutal pace.  She groaned his name when his body dragged against her clit with each thrust.  It wasn’t enough for her and she eased one hand between them to tease her own clit.

“Fucking hell that’s hot Shepard,” he hissed when her body tightened around him.  Marlowe’s head fell back against the wall at the heat building layer by layer between her legs.  She grunted when his teeth bit down on her shoulder and he sucked hard.  She lifted her head to curse at him.

“Don’t you dare leave a mark,” Marlowe hissed but he lifted his mouth and the bruise was there standing out.  He gave her a smug grin.  Marlowe wanted to retort but the orgasm caught her off guard and her head fell against the wall with a loud thud and a moan spilled from her lips instead of the curse.  His forehead dropped to her shoulder as her body milked his cock and he fell off the edge soon after with her.

Marlowe’s hand fumbled with the button next to them, but the bathroom door slid open with a soft hiss.  Zaeed merely looked at her and Marlowe grinned at him.  “I’m going to shower and then I’m going to bed.”

“Kicking me out again Shepard?” Marlowe snorted as he gently set her down, grimacing when he slid out of her welcoming body.

“You’re welcome to join me.  But I am going to tell Chakwas it was your fault my wound reopened.”  Marlowe informed him as he followed her inside.

“Oh that’ll go over great with the doctor.  Sorry doc, my wound reopened because I was being a brat.”  Zaeed grabbed her chin and turned her face up towards his.

“I bet you one hundred credits that she’ll lecture you.  If you think something like this would scandalize Chakwas then you’re off your gourd.”  Zaeed smirked and agreed to the bet.  “Now, let me get clean before I head down there to get this bandaged again.”  She turned towards the shower and Zaeed stepped in behind her.

Marlowe happily accepted her credits later that night after Chakwas read him the riot act for being so reckless.  She grinned as he settled in behind her on the bed and he huffed in annoyance at how smug she was being.

[milos-lil-corner]

kidneystitches posting aka ej and liu being cute together as a couple post

Been playing around with it in my head, but EJ finding Liu's chill and comfortable attitude around him, laying comfortably next to him or even not seeming afraid of him while they talk, is undeserved. The self-loathing and the loss of his humanity makes em think he doesn't deserve the other's comfort - if that makes any sense.

I don't think either of them would be comfortable around each other when it comes to their bodies - EJ for the, y'know, gestures towards demonic figure. And for Liu, its the gestures towards stitches and scars all over him. EJ is blind and Liu doesn't care what EJ looks like, but they still have that hidden feeling of shame about each other - self-loathing yippee.

Dunno if crosses or Christian stuff would effect EJ, but if it would, I think Liu would remove that kind of paraphernalia unconsciously. Even if it doesn't effect EJ, I think he would still do it. Maybe EJ comments on it like "...Liu, I don't combust into flames when you wear a cross. You don't have to take off your stuff every time we hang out" and Liu would get flustered about it.

If this relationship were to exist within a universe where all the creeps live in a mansion-type thing, I think Liu would not step foot into that house - mostly cause the house is weird or because his brother is there ( and he does NOT want to talk to his ass ). So either EJ and them plan something to do together out of the house or they do phone calls like lovesick teenagers.

However, since I interpret Liu would just drive around in different cars he stole, maybe he would tolerate the house. At least for a temporary home if he needs to just, not drive around like he's on the run all the time. Maybe in that scenario, they could hang out face to face more.

I do headcanon that EJ has that classic interpretation of him having interesting anatomy ( multiple tongues, demonic appearance, etc ). I don't think Liu would really question it cause he would pick up EJ doesn't really wanna talk about it, and if EJ won't question his scars, he won't either.

Though, that does give me a cute thought of them feeling each other's scars in a tender moment of vulnerability. Very rare moment of them just being alone and safe enough to actually, I dunno, actually see each other equally ( EJ only hearing, but not exactly being brave enough to actually touch Liu - again, old wounds he won't even dare touch without making sure it's completely fine)

I don't think either of them would be comfortable with PDA, especially when it comes to a universe where all the creeps live in a house. I don't think they would be overly defensive about their relationship, but if someone were to confront them about it, they would deny it. I don't think they would be comfortable exposing a bunch of creeps to their shit, man.

Tbh, other than their trauma and both of their situations, they are generally just a regular couple. Or they treat each other like a normal couple. None of them kill together cause Liu is uncomfortable with that and EJ already feels bad enough killing someone for survival - why subject someone he cares about to that brutality ( even if Liu has seen enough of it, but its the thought that counts )

Smooches and cuddles are behind a locked door and key. Fucker's are serious about privacy, even if it's just innocent cuddles. Just, no.

I think the two would listen to audio books together - maybe Liu not being interested while EJ listens intently, so Liu just kinda enjoys the company instead of listening to whatever medical thing EJ's watching.

kay thats all i have for now. feel free to give me thoughts in asks or something - i wanna hear more thoughts about this relationship and your interps of it tbh

[ghuleh-witch]

And We Are Tied As One Eternally-I

Fandom: Ghost Rating: Explicit Warnings: (For Future Chapters) NSFW, 18+, unprotected sex, p in v sex, oral sex, mentions of past abuse and domestic violence, references to suicide Relationships: Papa Emeritus IV/Copia x OFC Characters: Papa Emeritus IV/Copia, OFC Additional Tags: soft!dom Copia, eventual smut, developing relationship, no beta reader Chapter Word Count: 3720 Summary: Ellie Moran just wanted to make a new life for herself. Running to escape the people in her past, she ends up in a small town in the middle of nowhere that happens to be home to a Satanic church. She never expected her life to change again after she started attending the public masses at said church.

Ao3

Chapters: 1/?

Chapter One

“How do you even dress for mass at a Satanic church?” Ellie Moran said to herself as she stared into her closet. She wasn’t even sure why she was going to begin with. Ever since she saw a grown man in the coffee shop throw a fit over a flyer for the Ministry of Ghost, a Satantic church located on the outskirts of town, she’d been curious. The flyer was advertising public mass times for the next month. After watching the middle-aged man crinkle the flyer up and toss it in the trash, Ellie retrieved it and took it home. It was now lying on her vanity as smoothed out as she could make it. 

If the church was causing such an uproar among the locals, Ellie knew she had to see what it was all about.

It had been two months since she moved to this new town—two months since she flipped her life upside down to be herself, live how she wanted to live, and finally escape. It had been two very long and lonely months though. Besides her job at the small bookstore on the corner of her street, she didn’t leave her apartment. There wasn’t much to do in the town, and the organizations she checked out, such as the women’s club, were filled with overly chipper, old women who would sneer at the tattoos that covered her arm. Ellie never intended to move to such a small town. She only moved there because it was the last place anyone would think to look for her.

She felt pathetic. At 30 years old she was starting over completely. She had no friends, no significant other, no degree or skills, and was working at a bookstore barely making enough to get by. 

Ellie pulled a black skater dress out of her closet and looked it over, deciding if it was appropriate to wear to a church service. “It’s a satanic church, I don’t think they’re going to care what I wear,” she said to herself and shrugged, grabbing a dark green cardigan to wear over it. “Good enough” She slipped her feet into a pair of combat boots and looked in the mirror to finish her makeup and hair. She squeezed some mousse into the palm of her hand and scrunched it into her shoulder-length, dark blonde hair to help bring out her natural waves. She fixed her eyeliner and put on her favorite necklace; a pointed, wire-wrapped black tourmaline crystal before grabbing her bag and her car keys. 

Her ancient Ford Focus sat mostly unused behind her apartment building, and thankfully, after surviving the drive across the country, it got her up to the church in one piece. She parked in the visitors’ lot and walked up the stoned pathway to the entrance. The church was huge and made of stone. Ellie knew at one point it must have been a Christian church. She could see faint outlines of crosses that used to be displayed on the building that were replaced with inverted crucifixes and pentagrams. 

At the entrance there was a person, Ellie thought they might be a man but she couldn’t be sure, dressed all in black with something that looked like a modified gas mask with little horns on their head. 

“Visitor?” They asked when Ellie approached.

“Er-Yea-I saw the flyer—”

“Straight down the hall, the large black doors on the left. Can’t miss it,” they said in a bored voice.

“Thanks,” Ellie said, entering into the building. She was in awe at all the marble and stained glass. There was so much natural light in the atrium and it created a warm and welcoming environment. It was beautiful and not what she was expecting. She had a vision of walking into some stifling hot building with black drapes all around and only candlelight to see by. 

She found the door the person at the front told her to look for and went through. Inside was the sanctuary. It wasn’t as big as the ones she’d seen in Catholic churches, but it was just as beautiful. Stained glass windows lined the room and dark-stained pews sat among stone columns facing the pulpit. The room was mostly filled with men in black monk robes and women in black habits. There were less than a dozen people in street clothes like she was. 

Ellie took a seat at the end of a pew in the back of the sanctuary. She wrung her fingers nervously as she looked around at everyone talking to one another. Once the sound of an organ filled the room, everyone began to quiet down. A procession of people entered the room from a side door near the front of the space. They were dressed in red and black robes and looked like the pictures of cardinals she’d seen at the Vatican. They took seats in the front two pews.

After the cardinals, three older men in nice suits and black and white skull paint enter followed by a woman in a dark gray skirt and blazer. Behind her, an elderly man with skull paint, a walker, and an oxygen tank was escorted into the room by a woman in a habit. The five of them took seats in the chairs that lined one of the side walls and the woman took a place in a nearby pew. 

The organ music died down and another man with black and white skull paint on his face entered. He was dressed in immaculate black robes with a golden “IV” encircled in a starburst pattern on his chest. He wore a black stole with gold skulls running down its length and the mitre on his head was shaped in what looked like bat wings. His eyes, one of them a brilliant white, scanned the sanctuary, giving little nods to people he seemed to know sitting in the pews, and then his eyes settled on her. 

She couldn’t take her eyes off his. It felt like he was staring right into the dark, deep depths of her soul. It was like a wave of electricity washed over her, making her sit up straight under his gaze. She could have sworn the faintest smirk formed on his lips before he turned his attention from her and back to the crowd as a whole. 

Ellie didn’t know what was said during the sermon. She couldn’t help but stare at the man she now knew as Papa Emeritus IV after he introduced himself to the new people in the sanctuary. She stood whenever everyone else stood, kneeled when they all kneeled and attempted to sing the hymns that were sung. Then it was time for communion. Ellie stayed seated while everyone got in line. She watched as one by one people walked up to Papa, knelt in front of him as he said a few words and placed a communion wafer in their mouth, and then took a sip of wine from a goblet being held by one of the men in the nice suits before Papa made the sign of the inverted cross and they returned to their seat.

She noticed more than once his eyes flicked to her, and Ellie couldn’t help but squirm in her seat as though she had just gotten in trouble. Was she supposed to be standing in line with everyone else? She wasn’t sure if she was allowed to take communion. She wasn’t a member of the church and she wasn’t sure if she needed to do anything beforehand to be able to take communion. In the Baptist church she grew up in, one couldn’t take communion until they accepted Jesus as their savior and became a church member. Did she need to believe in Satan and be a member of the church to take communion here?

Once communion finished and the closing words said, the woman in the gray suit stood and invited everyone to join them for a potluck lunch in the refectory. Ellie wasn’t planning on staying, but when her stomach growled, she followed a group of women across the hall to the refectory. She wasn’t going to turn down free food when all she had in her apartment was a box of cereal and a few packs of ramen. While everyone mingled with their plates of food, Ellie stood along the wall finishing up a small turkey and cheese slider. She tossed her paper plate in the trash and watched as everyone talked and laughed, feeling incredibly left out.

Just go up to someone and introduce yourself , she told herself. You’ll never make friends if you’re standing here like an idiot.

“You didn’t take communion.”

Ellie jumped a little, startled by the accented voice coming from beside her. She turned and saw the Papa Emeritus IV himself standing there. He was still dressed in the same black robes he wore during the service. He was mirte-less now and she could see his mousy brown hair, peppered with the lightest touches of gray. She thought he looked handsome and wondered what he looked like without the paint on his face. 

“I didn’t know if I was allowed to,” Ellie said, feeling his eyes stare into her gray ones once more. “I-uh-I’ve never been here before.”

“ Sí , I know,” he replied, holding out a hand to her. “Papa Emeritus the fourth, head of the clergy. And for future reference, anyone can take communion here. Eh, it’s more of a mockery of the Christian communion than anything of significance. What is your name, cara ?” 

“Ellie Moran,” she said, shaking his gloved hand, the leather warm and soft against her palm. She thought she saw something in his eyes light up when she said her name.

“And what brings you to our ministry, Ellie?”

“Curiosity,” she answered honestly. “I saw someone throwing a fit over your flyer posted in the coffee shop, and well, I got curious. I’m new to the area and haven’t…found a place I fit in yet.” She thought she sounded so pathetic as she talked and wished she never said anything.

“How long have you lived here?” Papa asked with interest. 

“Only two months,” she said.

“And how do you like it?”

Ellie shrugged. “It’s fine,” she answered. “The town is boring but it’s better than where I was.”

Papa was about to say something when the woman in the gray skirt and blazer approached him. “Cardi, we need to talk,” she said, seeming to not notice Ellie. 

“Okie dokie, sister,” Papa responded before looking back to Ellie. “I’m sorry to leave you. Perhaps you will come to our next mass?”

Ellie nodded and watched him walk away with the woman and felt very alone again. Frowning, she slipped out of the dining hall and made her way back to the front entrance and her car, cursing herself that she didn’t talk to anyone else. 

As she drove back into town and to her apartment and promised herself she’d go to mass again and next time, she’d talk to someone.  XXX

Copia returned to the refectory a few minutes after Sister Imperator pulled him aside to talk to him about his sermon. His eyes scanned the room looking for Ellie. He frowned when he didn’t see her and turned to the ghoul standing near the door. “Did the woman in the green sweater leave?” He asked Aether.

“She did,” Aether answered. “A few minutes ago. She looked…sad.”

“Hmmm, thank you, Aether,” Copia said turning back to the rest of the people in the refectory. He had noticed her in the sanctuary sitting by herself in the back. His first thought was that she was striking. There was something about her that captured his attention and wanted to get to know her more. It was almost as if he was being drawn to her by an unseen force. He was a bit disappointed to find that she left already, not that he was expecting her to be waiting for him to come back. He hoped that she would come to the next mass. Next time he’d get to know her better.  XXX

A few days later, Ellie was staring at the Satanic Bible on the bookshelf at her work. She didn’t often get to stock books in the spirituality section, but today she got to and the book caught her eye. She thought back on the mass she had attended just three days prior. She couldn’t remember what Papa was speaking about, but she could remember how he looked at her and how kind he seemed to be when she spoke to him briefly afterward. 

But those eyes, she couldn’t get those eyes out of her head.

She stocked the books on Celtic Paganism in her arms and turned back to the Satanic Bible. She picked it up and flipped through it; it couldn’t hurt to learn something before she went to mass again that weekend.

“If it were my choice, I’d burn this whole section.”

Ellie turned to see her supervisor standing there with a stack of Bibles on the cart he was pushing. Charles was a larger man with a ruddy face and balding head. Ellie didn’t care for him. He constantly talked about his hunting trips and how his wife was the greatest thing since sliced bread. He could be an asshole at times and often stuck her with the shittiest tasks in the store, and because she was a people pleaser, just never complained and just did as she was told.

“Oh?” Ellie said. 

“Freedom of religion is a joke in this country. This isn’t religion. This is evil, satanic bullshit,” he said glaring at the books. “But I don’t own the store so I don’t get a say in what’s stocked here. Maybe one day.” He pushed the cart passed her into the next aisle to stock the Bibles leaving Ellie standing there with a frown on her face. 

Later that evening, she sat on her ugly burnt orange couch with her laptop open on her lap. She spent the last hour scouring the internet for information on the Ministry of Ghost. There wasn’t a whole lot. Their website looked like something that came out of the early internet in 1999, but there was a link to a YouTube channel entitled Ghost. 

There were music videos and videos from concerts on the page of a band performing metal and rock songs. Ellie fell down a rabbit hole from there and learned that Ghost was a side project of the Ministry to help spread their message. Over the years they’ve been active, they were led by a few different men, the previous Papas, and their band of ghouls. The music was good, and Ellie ended up adding a few songs to her Spotify playlist. She then saw the videos of Papa Emeritus IV when he was still just a cardinal. 

“Holy shit,” Ellie muttered as she watched him perform on stage while wearing a red cassock. The man could sing, she gave him that much, but the way he moved enthralled her. She even saw a video of his ascension from cardinal to Papa. At one point she thought she was drooling on her keyboard. There was no way that the man in the video and the one she met over the weekend were the same person. She had to snap her laptop shut because she didn’t think it was right to be lusting after what was the equivalent of the pope, even if he was satanic. 

XXX

The next public mass was two weeks later, and Ellie was the first of the visitors to get there. She was dressed in a similar outfit as before; same black dress and boots, but she switched out her green cardigan for a blue one. She nodded to the man in the modified gas mask at the door and made her way to the sanctuary. As she stood in the doorway, she scanned the room, determined to sit by someone she could talk to. When she saw a woman in a habit sitting alone near the front, Ellie made her way to her. She stood at the end of the pew and cleared her throat a little.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” Ellie asked when the woman looked over to her.

The woman smiled and patted the seat next to her. “Please,” she said. She had dark brown bangs poking out from her veil and bright hazel eyes. “I’m Sister Gemma, but please, just call me Gemma. No need for formalities.”

“Ellie,” Ellie said sliding into the pew. 

“First time here?”

“Second. I came to the last public mass a couple of weeks ago.” 

“Oooo,” Gemma cooed. “You’re the first second-timer we’ve had in a while. Most visitors don’t come back after their times time. You thinking about joining?”

“I don’t know,” Ellie answered truthfully. She hadn’t really thought about it. She agreed with the tenets of santanism, but she wasn’t sure if she was ready to join the church just yet. “I don’t have to become a nun, do I? Are you a nun? I’m sorry I don’t know all the terminology.” She became flustered and hoped she wasn’t making too much of a fool of herself. 

Gemma smiled kindly. “You’re fine. And yea, I’m kinda like a nun. The brothers and sisters here are called the Siblings of Din. And no, you don’t have to become a Sibling to join the church. There are a couple of non-sibling members here. Papa Terzo even had a townie for an assistant for a while.”

“Papa Terzo?” Ellie asked. She knew there were other Papas but she never heard the name before.

“Papa Emeritus the third. He was Papa Copia’s predecessor. It’s easier to say Papa and then their name instead of their whole title. It becomes a mouthful.”

Copia , Ellie thought, liking the sound of his name. She cleared her throat before speaking. “What would I have to do to join?”

“You’d need a sponsor. Everyone who is considering joining the ministry needs to be sponsored by an established member. We act as guides and teachers to help prepare you for membership here. If you consider joining, I’d love to be your sponsor. I have a good feeling about you.” 

“I’ll thank about it,” Ellie said earnestly.

Gemma grinned. “I’ll give you my number after mass and you can let me know.”

Just as Ellie was about to say something else, the organ music started once more. Ellie watched the same procession of people enter the sanctuary, and when Copia stepped into the space, she saw his eyes search the sanctuary. His eyes found hers after a moment and his lips curved upward slightly, giving her a small nod of acknowledgment. 

Ellie found herself smiling in return. She felt Gemma nudge her and saw the other woman had a look of delight on her face.

The service was very similar to the first one Ellie attended. The only difference this time was Gemma was whispering to her, explaining some of the things Copia was talking. Ellie tried to pay more attention this time, but she still found herself focused on Copia. He made her curious and she wanted to get to know who he was. She thought it was strange that she had these feelings. She never felt like this toward anyone before.

When it was once again time for communion, Gemma grabbed Ellie’s hand and pulled her into the line. Ellie remembered what Copia told her last time—that anyone could take communion, and it made her feel less nervous 

“You don’t need to commit to anything.,” Gemma told Ellie. “Papa will say a little prayer in Latin as he puts the wafer in your mouth and you’ll say nema before you eat it and he does the sign of the inverted cross. Then Papa Terzo will offer you the chalice of wine to drink from. Same thing, he’ll say a quick prayer in Latin, you drink and say nema, and he makes the sign of the inverted cross. Then you stand and go back to your seat. Easy as pie.” 

She stood behind Gemma and slowly moved as the line pushed forward. When Ellie realized she was next, she suddenly felt nervous. When she stepped up in front of Copia, he smiled.

“Glad to see you back, cara ,” he said.

She lowered herself to her kneels in front of him and tilted her head upward to look at him. She thought he suddenly looked as nervous as she felt, but then he was holding a communion wafer in his fingers and looking just as calm as before. He lowered his arm to serve her the wafer as he began saying something in Latin. 

Ellie opened her mouth and he gently placed it on her tongue. Ellie had the desire to close her lips around the leather of his gloved fingers but kept herself from doing so. She swallowed the wafer. “Nema,” she said. She watched him make an inverted cross with his hands before taking a step to the side to allow one of the men in skull paint and a suit to step up to her. 

“You’re a pretty thing,” Terzo said as he looked down at her with a smirk. He offered her the chalice and titled it for her to drink from. “That’s it, tesoro,” he cooed before saying his prayer in Latin. 

“Nema,” Ellie replied after swallowing the sip of wine.

After he made the sign of the inverted cross Ellie stood and went back to her seat. “I think he was flirting with me,” she whispered to Gemma.

“Who?” Gemma asked with interest.

“Papa Terzo,” Ellie answered. 

“Oh. He flirts with everyone. And I mean everyone,” Gemma said. “Why did it make you uncomfortable? If you tell him he won’t do it again.” 

“No, it’s fine. I didn’t mind. I just wasn’t expecting it,” Ellie shrugged.

“I’m sorry I should have warned you,” Gemma responded. “You staying for the luncheon?”

Ellie thought it over for a second. She was enjoying Gemma’s company, and if Ellie stayed she could continue getting to know Gemma and maybe meet some other people.

And also maybe she’d get to talk to Copia again.

Translations:

Sí-yes Cara-dear/darling tesoro-treasure

[pinkberrypocky]

pmmm rewatch live notes: ep 11

gosh what to even say to preface episode 11 notes. ouchie my heart. the scene where madoka convinces her mom to let her go save homura breaks me every time.

The circles on the floor of homura’s house are the colors of the holy quintet

It's so tragic that homura in trying to save madoka has made her the center of the universe and made it more impossible to save her

Since she is the center of the universe she has more potential power which means that kyubey will want her even more

The shot of madoka being hung up by all the strings of fate is so jesus on the cross

And that makes sense bc when madoka becomes hope and essentially dies by becoming a concept that no one knows in order to save all the other magical girls

Earlier i was saying how homura is jesus but madoka is also so jesus so consider what if the real jesus is the lesbians we found along the way

Literally i am not christian don’t come for me if that doesn’t hold water

 The umbrella madoka uses when she comes home from sayaka’s memorial service is yellow

It’s so wild how kyubey so readily compares his relationship w the magical girls as that of humans and livestock

The shot of the incubators being there making magical girls since the beginning of time is crazy

Cleopatra and joan of arc being magical girls is sooooooooooo

“It wasn’t we who betrayed them, but their own prayers” UGH OUCH

Like by wishing for their wish they doomed themselves 

Ouch owie

Giant shadow of kyubey over madoka’s hunched crying form after he shows her the history of incubators and magical girls

Red and blue lighting when madoka’s mom and teacher meet up to talk about madoka and sayaka

They talk about sayaka “quarreling” with a friend over a boy and it's so heartbreaking to know that that’s all that the world will see

But also in a way it IS why she died it’s because she made a wish for the boy she liked that she is now dead

Painting of those two biblical figures reaching for each other is above the bar they are sitting at

When homura embraces madoka madoka remains stiff and unmoving and for the most part unspeaking like she’s frozen in time

Shot of madoka and homura as a black silhouette and all the shots from all of homura’s timelines literally breaks my heart OUCH

Homura pleads madoka to let her protect her because in the end the reason that madoka keeps dying is that she can’t not protect others

And yet again it backfires bc madoka has such a Need to protect homura and everyone she loves

Scene is very grayscale when we see homura ready to take on walpy

The way that walpy is a stage is SO considering that everything homura does is in act and everything all the magical girls do is really a puppet act being controlled by the incubators

And also how the other magical girls and madokami are watching over them for all time as the audience

Walpy wears bright blue while the whole rest of the scene is grayscale

Except for the bright fire of explosions

The way that homura has trapped not only madoka by repeating so many times but also herself because she has made her whole purpose to save madoka so if she stops now she will become a witch 

she has to keep fighting so that madoka doesn’t die or become a witch and she doesn’t either

Their fates are intertwined in a way that cannot be undone

Madoka’s mom trying to stop her from going to help homura is such a good scene because it reminds us of the age of the holy quintet and the weight of their actions and decisions

It also helps us see into madoka’s head bc she has to explain her reasoning to her mom

It’s also so good because it shows an adult trying to take care of a child which is so lacking in this show sadly

Madoka’s mom asks her is she’s sure that she’s not making a mistake and madoka says yes without a second thought

While the whole rest of the series she has been too scared and uncertain to do anything or make any choices now when the stakes are so high she finally knows what she wants to do and is forging ahead to do it no matter what the others around her think of it

In a sad way, her choice to become a magical girl and save everyone means giving in to the cycle and what kyubey wants 

And it's only then that she has true autonomy

Her only choice that is fully hers is one to give up herself and her autonomy in order to save everyone else

Madoka and homura are literally passing the self sacrificing blunt back and forth