#already this feels like a confession of guilt. is it the christianity? is it the way some online spaces just Are?

[moe-broey]

My therapist hasn't killed me yet 👍

[bengiyo]

Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo: We Are So Fucking Back

I am glad that we are all having a normal one in reaction to Hwang Da Seul's latest project (@chicademartinica, @dropthedemiurge, @shortpplfedup, @lurkingshan). I'm still meditating on the whole affair, but for now want to get into how Hwang Da Seul feels so compassionate to closeted men, and how I also am stuck on the removal of the cross (@my-rose-tinted-glasses).

Shan already linked back to The Knowing, and I keep thinking about how rare it is to see two boys who've already come to an understanding of themselves meeting each other, and also including a bully who knows himself. What stands out for me with Hwang Da Seul is how old the pains weighing on her characters feel each time.

Dohee has suffered the abuse of his father, abandonment of his mother, and dissolution of his closest friendship, and he's just pushing through to leave all of this. His pain is obvious and lived in. He doesn't have to sit around moping exclusively about how he feels, because it's ever present. Like anyone else living with chronic pain, you just have to do stuff while hurting a lot of the time.

Juyeong is so fascinating to me because his exuberance and passion makes it almost impossible to hide who he is, and I will always be a sucker for the characters who love so loudly that you can't turn it off. I also keep thinking about how he has been communicating his attraction through his eyes so often, and how he's made desire known through all of his careful flirting.

The building romance between them hits for me most because they're paying attention to each other. Dohee made food that he realized Juyeong would like, is careful about hurting him in their sparring matches, and went for the ice cream that Juyeong said he wanted. Juyeong heard Dohee say he wanted to see snow, and so he made snow for him!

Now, back to that cross. Rose's post and one @benkaben posted have been rattling around in my head for hours. We know that Juyeong's mom is a pastor, and that he's being sent here as essentially conversion therapy (as Shan already pointed out). It's not just that he takes the cross off before confessing, which clearly shows that he's setting everything associated with that aside. It's that he's also confessing through a wall. It's such a small detail in how you can set aside the weight of responsibility and guilt associated with your queerness, but you don't lose the cultural touchstones: for some Christians (I was raised Catholic) you confess your signs through a mild layer of anonymity by putting some sort of wall or separation between you and the priest. There's something so subversive about having Juyeong set down his cross but still confess his feelings like a Christian.

I am also curious where Hyeonho will feature in the rest of this story. It's clear that he and Dohee felt something between each other at some point, and that Hyeonho ran from it. He doesn't want Dohee to get hurt too badly, and he's observing the growing relationship between Dohee and Juyeong. I'm so happy this character exists, because it gives us three characters struggling with the pressures on them to be a certain way. If we had to have a character who will make ugly choices around that, it helps for it not to be part of the main pair, and it also shows that these boys have not been the only queers around that they knew of.

Finally, let me just thank Hwang Da Seul for not being precious about the kissing. I like that their first proper kiss was their second kiss, and I like that it was awkward. I loved them false starting multiple times, trying to make sure they weren't observed too closely (considering their history), and I like that they built back to it. I know that kissing early means we're in for much pain, but it's so nice to have a show not dance around the kissing, or have it be especially mild. I like when two boys like each other and go for it.

I'm so happy that Hwang Da Seul is back. Every time I watch her shows I feel like I'm talking to someone who understands what the inside of the closet looks and feels like. I always feel seen by her in a way that feels gentle. She lets me remember how scary and ugly all of that was without it being a triggering or jarring experience. Peak drama season is upon us, because we're also about to get Love in the Big City in just three days. See you all on the other side.

[lurkingshan]

Things I Can't Stop Thinking About in Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo

My friends, we are in for a world of pain, Hwang Da Seul style, and I could not be more excited for her to hurt me. Her shows are always so beautiful and evocative and layered with deep emotion, and this one is no different. Here are some things that stood out to me from the first two episodes.

This show is giving us a classic character dynamic that Korea in particular seems to love: the persistent sunshine boy masking pain who insists on getting close to the closed off grump whose pain is right there on the surface for anyone who cares to look. I loved them both, as individual characters and as a pair, instantly.

Our tale appears to be taking place around about the mid-2000s, based on the technology, music, and drama references in these first couple episodes (h/t @dropthedemiurge). Both the main characters are serving as narrators of different parts of the story, and they seem to be looking back on this time from the future.

Juyeong captured my heart as soon as he started dancing with himself in the middle of the street, and my interest and investment in him only grew as we got more pieces of his backstory. The implication is clear that his sexuality is the reason for the fracture with his Christian pastor mother and why he was sent to this town to be "set straight" by an abusive coach. But he’s still in touch with her, speaking on the phone every day and promising he’s being good, even as he gives in to his desires (but not before removing his crucifix). He's a filial son who seems to be harboring a lot of guilt for disappointing her, and this whole situation feels very akin to being sent away for conversion therapy (and now I'm thinking about Love in the Big City again).

Dohoe feels all around more jaded than Juyeong, which is perfectly understandable given he was abandoned by his mother and left to live with an abuser in this town he hates. Not only is he putting up with constant beatings from his father, he is suffering bullying at school from a boy who used to be his friend until things got a little too gay between them. Anyone who had been hurt by as many loved ones as he had would be justified in trusting no one, so it's telling that he let Juyeong in as quickly as he did. Dohoe radiates loneliness and he was dying for someone to see him.

It feels notable to me that both Dohoe and Juyeong came to this connection knowing they were gay and having already had bad experiences because of it. It's rare that we get two characters in a bl romance who both Know (h/t @bengiyo).

The romance in this show is so well written, I was already screaming into my pillow within two episodes. I tell ya, nobody delivers romance writing like Korea when they decide to be serious. The little ways Juyeong and Dohoe see each other, the way they pay attention and notice each other's mood and health, the way they go out of their way to bring each other a bit of happiness. Dohoe's journey to secure Juyeong's weird ice cream! Juyeong making snow for Dohoe (snow is one of THE biggest signifiers of love in kdrama language)! And on top of that, they communicate with each other. As soon as it's clear their attraction is mutual, they start talking about it. They confess (Dohoe in a more tortured manner, and then Juyeong after removing the symbol of his mother's oppression). They discuss where in this damn town they can safely make out with each other, and go do that! Perfection.

The tone of this show is also pitch perfect. The dojo and taekwondo scenes, along with the presence of Dohoe's father, root us in a kind of toxic masculinity that feels stifling. We feel transported back in time, in a setting where the accents and scenery are different from the usual drama fare, in a place where Dohoe and Juyeong don't fit in but also can't escape. Every moment feels anchored in both a warm nostalgia and a cold dread, because we can feel something bad coming even as Dohoe and Juyeong experience moments of happiness together.

Hyeonho is an interesting character. In some ways, he's very stereotypical: the bully who is battling his own internalized homophobia by punishing the ones he likes, and is now even more activated by his jealousy. But I do find it notable that he seems unwilling to let Dohoe get too hurt. He won't beat him himself and instead gets his little gang of thugs to do it for him, and he also stepped in (literally, he put his foot between Dohoe's head and the pavement) to make sure Dohoe didn't get irreparably injured. I'm not sure what to make of him just yet.

The references are everywhere in this show! HDS loves to reference both her own works (especially Where Your Eyes Linger and To My Star 2 in these first episodes) and other classic kdramas, along with making ample use of remixed versions of common kdrama romance tropes. It would probably be impossible to catch them all on a first viewing (a great excuse to rewatch).

Sending a plea to the universe and @troubled-mind to deliver the music on this soundtrack to me; it was so beautiful and perfectly used in these first two episodes.

[mars-ipan]

grins

see kelper here’s the thing: you can tell priest au!hajime to run all you want but… run??? from Father Komaeda??? if he runs from the house of God will he not simply be running into the arms of the devil? Father Komaeda is going to Fix him, he swore he would. he’s leading him to the light, he’s going to free him from his sin. hajime just has to try harder, but Father Komaeda believes in him. he can’t disappoint the only person who’s ever seen him for the vile thing he is and forgiven him. what would he do without him? he can’t absolve himself of sin on his own, he needs Father Komaeda to assist him in resisting temptation. after years of running from his shame, he’s finally brave enough to face it head on, to see the light of God and be washed of his impurities. don’t you see? God is good. this is good.

yeah he’s um. not leaving that church anytime soon

i am sat here in horror and fear and i am deeply scared of you my brother in christ this IS the spooky mormon hell dream

[blues824]

Since requests are closing soon today, can I have the demons and lords of Black butler reacting to a female character like Douma from Demon slayer please. Thank you

Ciel Phantomhive 

Of course he has heard of you, but Sebastian has already told him that you were a demon rather than a ‘child of the gods’. The fact that you had a cult following in a predominantly Christian time period was very mysterious to the young Phantomhive lord.

So, he asked his butler to seek you out. It wasn't too hard, considering the demon knew that your kind could only go out at night. Plus, you weren’t exactly trying to conceal your location. What neither demon nor lord expected was a pile of bloody bodies near the shrine, nor you with a bloody mouth.

You even seemed to be smiling, which Ciel found to be quite annoying. However, he was smarter than that and he could see the nothingness in your eyes. Then, you decided to fight back against his butler with your golden fan, and you landed a few deep cuts. Unfortunately, Sebastian held you down as the young Phantomhive questioned you.

This time, your face was solemn. You told Ciel that you didn’t regret killing the people in your cult, which he was not surprised at. You explained that you were apathetic and couldn’t feel any emotion at all, which made everything make a lot more sense.

Sebastian Michaelis

He was very intrigued by your type of demon. Typically, his own kindred would devour souls rather than flesh, but your kindred needs it to survive. In addition to that, you have a rather large cult following for someone who lives in a predominantly Christian Victorian era.

Once his master had given the order to search for you, he already knew where you were. You weren’t trying to hide, but it was this very fascinating game of chase. Eventually, he did find you beside a pile of bodies, presumably belonging to your followers. You had lovely eyes and a charming smile, a move that Sebastian himself utilized from time to time.

In your battle against him, he was a bit surprised by the amount of skill you had with your razor-sharp fans. Paired with your blood demon art, you definitely put up a challenge for him. Your fight ended up more like a dance, a graceful one at that.

The moment he pinned you down, you knew it was over. Your smile had disappeared as you confessed to your actions. However, Sebastian didn’t care about you eating humans. In fact, he preferred your company over the useless bags of flesh even though he had only just met you. The two of you could tell that this would lead to something much more than just the spark you felt.

Alois Trancy

He very much wanted to meet you, especially after he heard your name whispered at one of the many balls hosted by the Queen. You were rumored to be a ‘child of the gods’ because of your eyes and powers. Now, he wanted to gaze upon the rainbow-colored irises to really see if the rumors were true.

So, as a result, he ordered Claude to capture you. It was no easy feat for the butler either, considering you were well-versed in fans and your blood demon art. You put up a good fight, and Alois was a bit worried that the demon he was contracted to wouldn’t be able to complete the task assigned to him.

Once the demon butler finally pinned you down, Alois forced you to confess to what you did. You weren’t smiling as you were before, as you admitted that you had eaten many of your followers. Your face remained neutral, not portraying sadness or guilt. No, you were sadistic just like the young Trancy lord.

Alois took the chance to really look into your eyes, and he knew that he wanted them. So, he offered to hire you lest Claude gouge your eyes out as an alternative. Your smile was back on your face as you agreed to become one of his few servants. He took your hand as he led you back to the manor.

Claude Faustus

There were two types of demons in this world: your kind and his kind. Both like to cause trouble, but his kind only likes to devour souls while your kind likes to eat the entire human. When he heard the rumors, he already figured that you were a flesh-eating demon.

Alois ordered your capture, and Claude already knew where you were. He could sense the entire pile of mutilated bodies as he got closer to your location. Then, there you were, standing with your golden fans out. You already knew he was coming.

As the two of you fought, you had a smile on your face as though this were a game. This only served to make the butler more angry. This little dance of yours went on for about 3 hours before he finally pinned you down and ordered your confession to the crimes you had committed.

Your smile dropped to a more neutral glare, as you stated that you had no grief as you couldn’t feel any. Well, he whipped out a napkin and held your face still to clean off the somehow still-fresh blood off of your mouth. Both of you could tell that this wasn’t the only time you would be meeting.

[fan-goddess]

Hello my love!! For your kinktober event, could I request modern!Aemond with religious guilt?? 👁️🫦👁️

Authors Note: Oooh I will definitely try for you baby! I don’t know much about the topic of religion due to me being raised in a non-religious household, but I will certainly try my best!

I’ve made merged Christianity and the religion of the seven together and I talk about religion a lot in this, but like I said I don’t know a lot about the topic, so if I get any certain terminology wrong or anything like that, please don’t hesitate to let me know so I can try and do my best to correct myself and add it into the one-shot! I will not be offended at all!

Warnings: Religious guilt, m masturbation, blasphemy, a lot of religious guilt, sort of religious trauma maybe???, lying to a priest, most likely incorrect quotes from the bible, I think I got Adam and eves story wrong on that last bit, (if I miss anything like I know I probably will or if just you want me to add anything let me know!”

Taglist: @valeskafics, @sofiyathecunt , @marvelgirl123 , @sylasthegrim, @mochi-rose, @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @blue-serendipity, @omgbrcat

Please read the authors note before reading if you haven’t already!

Ever since Aemond could remember, it had been customary for him and his family to go to church every Sunday, without any arguments.

Each time Aegon, Helaena and himself would be dressed in their Sunday bests, which all held some variation of green in them, and greet the pastor with only pure respect.

His mother though also expected him and his siblings to go into the confession box, and confess their sins weekly to the pastor.

One time when Aemond was seven, he wanted an extra cookie after dinner, but his mother has said a firm no and told him off. However, ignoring his mothers advice, Aemond decided to climb onto the counter later that evening to sneak another from the tin, even when his mother said no.

When she found him, she smacked him three times on his rear with her hand for a punishment and when Sunday came about, she all shoved him inside the confession box, where he was forced to confess his sins to the man on the other side.

The moment stayed with him for years. It imbedded something inside of him. A fear of god. A fear of those sins the pastor would preach about confessing over.

That fear at the current moment seemed to be very directed at you. It had been years since the cookie incident, as he was a college boy now. A man even. Studying the philosophical and physical history of the world.

He thought they were safe subjects to pick to satisfy his ever hungry mind. Yet the safety vanishes when he locked eyes on you in a gorgeous light blue summer dress one innocent morning.

The straps were thinner than the dresses he’d seen before, and the one you wore went well above your knees, stopping closer to the middle of your upper thighs.

When you crossed your legs during class, Aemond had seen so much skin that he practically felt lightheaded at the sight, his fist curling so much his knuckles turned white from how tighty he clenched them.

He could feel the sinfulness of his thoughts curling up into one large glutinous monster begging for scraps.

The thoughts of being with you as a married couple do. Him coming home to you where you would greet him at the door, pregnant with his child. Taking you on his and your wedding night on the bed, naked as the day you were born.

It made his head spin dreadfully. As he’d never even spoken to you before that day, let alone noticed you. But maybe, maybe this was some sort of test by the seven? A temptation he must resist to prove himself faithful to what he believes.

The thought comes to him that night as he fucks his fist to the thought of you.

Aemond had never done so before. It never felt right thinking about the sinful women online who paraded their bodies for the world. Yet why did it feel so good when he thought of you?

The thought stayed with him constantly over the couple months. He’d see you in class. Now devoted to sitting behind you when possible to get a glimpse of you where you couldn’t see him.

Only his plan to stay in the dark didn’t go to plan. When one Sunday after church, and his family’s eating dinner together, he gets a text from an unknown number on his phone.

His eyebrow raised on its own in surprise, and as he texts asking who it, and gets an swift answer back not even a minute later, he can feel his heart practically going into cardiac arrest. Because it’s your name that responds to his question.

Aemond doesn’t answer your question though till early next morning. It had felt strange to text you that day. For him to talk to this temptation of his on a holy day. So he waited for it to turn 00:01 so the weighing on his conscious would leave him for now.

And when he saw your text the next morning agreeing on the time, the strange feeling that blooms in his chest gets pushed back as much as it could.

Yet the feeling only came back even quicker and harsher when he met you in the library that day.

His hands would find themselves clenching by his side whenever you folded your arms in annoyance, and his eyes would find themselves drawn to your accentuated boobs. His nails would dig into his palms so harshly a couple times Aemond felt as though he needed to check for fresh blood. Yet even if he did draw blood, he wouldn’t care. It was his penance for his sins.

When you finished the homework, he can remember the feeling of your body on his as you hugged him suddenly. Too shocked and surprised to even think about hugging you back. Not that he felt like he even deserved it in the first place.

“Thank you so much Aemond! I seriously was thinking I was gonna fail this on my own! How can I make it up?” You asked, looking up at with shining eyes.

“You don’t need to do anything for me. I was just being a good classmate.” Aemond learnt the hard way as a child to not bring up anything to do with religion when this sort of stuff came up.

“Are you sure? It doesn’t need to be big! You could make me give you another hug if you wanted? Or I could maybe bake you something? Seriously if you don’t want anything now I’ll probably end up doing all these things trying to make it up to you!” You beg, your eyes looking unusually stern at him.

He feels torn.

On the one hand, he feels as though if he took anything in return, he will be seen by the gods as being eager to be righteous. In the holy book, it was said "Be careful not to do your acts of righteousness' before men, to be seen by them.” There is always the possibility that this is one of your tests. Testing his willingness and eagerness for recognition from the gods.

But there is a sense of greed within him that urges for him to accept this temptation. A horrible greedy think that wants to take and take and take until there is nothing left.

It’s a horrible war inside of him. But in the end, the devil has his arm locked tightly.

“Fine. I’ll take a hug or something.” It’s said with so little emotion, and yet when he feels your arms around him the warmth in his chest reminds him of the flames of hell.

Where he belongs after what he did that night.

That night, Aemond held his erect cock in his hand and thrusted into it until his hot seed spilled all over his stomach. It felt sinful as when he was fondling himself, only images of you filled his head. The feeling of your warmth as you held him earlier that day fresh in his head as he couldn’t contain himself.

It felt so wrong afterwords, and yet whilst he was on the verge of cumming, the thought of you being there whilst he did this and helping him to complete himself was what sent him over the edge. And afterwards, the shame hit him hard.

He confessed it all when he went to confession that Sunday, and yet the pastor did little to help him achieve the advice he wanted. The penance in Aemonds mind was not enough.

Aemond remembers what he said to the man well. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been one week since my last confession, and I have been lead to temptation. I have been thinking of a person who belongs not to the church, and I have been thinking of her sexually. The thoughts do not stop father, how do I make the temptations stop?”

“My son,” The priest began, “The sins you tell me of I have seen before. Please, tell this woman of your thoughts so you can confess to her of your challenge, and in the meantime, pray to the gods for forgiveness every night before then. Give thanks to the Lords and ladies for They are good.”

Aemond hated to respond and end this moment, but he couldn’t stop the automatic response. “Their mercy endures forever.”

“Your sins are forgiven. Go in peace.”

Aemond was not in peace, and if anything the war inside of him was as hardening as ever.

“Thanks be to the Gods…” Aemond murmurs before leaving and shutting the door behind him.

Aemond that night sins again. And again the next night, and even the night after that. Aemond fists his hard cock and cums to the thought of your body every night till his next confession, where Aemond for the first time in his life lies to his priest about his sins. He does not mention that he never talked to you about him fucking himself to the thought of you, even when the priest mentions it, asking Aemond whether he has asked for your forgiveness. The lie felt like tar on his tongue when he uttered yes.

Everything within him in fact felt like there was a war inside him, a war that raged between the good and the bad.

When he talks to you innocently enough asking if you wanted some more help with the subject, Aemond makes use of each syllable you say and how you say it to complete himself later that day.

It’s sinful, it’s wrong, and yet it feels so fucking right when he does it.

One night whilst Aemond reread his worn down bible, he got to the section of Adam and Eve and though with a sick thrill that he was Adam, and you were his Eve. He was living in innocent bliss whilst you tried to tempt him with your apple of sins.

Aemond reads the verse thoroughly, and in the place of Adam and Eves faces he sees his and your own. It’s a horrible thing, but he imagines the scenario of you tempting him under the apple tree while his hand is on his cock.

Your back is to the tree, and Aemond is taking what is his from you whilst you moan at the feeling. Him and you experiencing pleasure and desire for the first time in yours’ lives and you can’t get enough of it as you whine and moan for more.

He even imagines afterwards, when him and you wonder earth whilst your stomach is swollen with his babe. It’s what makes him spill himself all over his stomach and hand, and what makes him realise what a sinner he is.

He will never tell you, he will never tell his priest, and Aemond is certain he will never tell the Gods on what he has done. Yet he doesn’t have to, for the Gods are omnipresent and omniscient.

They already knows where he belongs.

[high-humanity-reminders]

I have a confession to make. A few weeks after I was turned, before I knew what it really was or how terrible it was, I accidentally committed diablerie. I was attacked by someone I deeply feared, lost control, and didn't know enough to know when to stop. All my companions seem to have forgiven me almost immediately, but that has never made me feel any better. I still carry the weight of this sin with me wherever I go. Is there anything I can do to begin atoning for it?

First of all, noticing that you did a bad thing is already a major step not to be overlooked. A lot of Kindred do not even see when they hurt someone. I see you are trying to do better. It is commendable.

There is no twelve step program for dealing with the consequences of the diabolical act, and if there was, I probably would be one of the first ones to take part in it. The only thing you can do is try to learn and not do the diabolical act again. Try to not lose that control over yourself, even if it's difficult.

If you feel like atonement is the way for you... You were in danger and ended one life. There is not a way to turn back time, and you did not have to turn the other cheek, only Christianity teaches that, it is valuable that you are still here in these current nights. You could try spend some of your nights trying to help others though. Prolong some lives that would have been cut short by circumstances that you can help with due to your unique predispositions as a Kindred.

Do not beat yourself up over this and do not demonize yourself. Guilt is normal but it is not everything. You can do better. I believe in you.

Go in peace and do not do Amaranth further.

[my-fancy-hat]

A couple of days ago I finished reading Dungeon Meshi, so this post has the objective of offering a general review of my experience and opinions of the manga. I will try to avoid doing an in-depth analysis (gonna fail anyways ik myself) from the perspective of someone who have been observing the fandom from a backseat and does not intent to participe in it much (I've learned my lesson). Even though I couldn't resist spoilers during the time I planned to read it, I loved it! and it frustrates me a bit the idea that maybe I'd have enjoyed it more going full blind, but it is impossible to resist the online osmosis of information esp when its anime aired.

This manga has its story and characters clear, its writing is straight to the point, precise and clever, it trusts and respects the inteligence and feelings of its readers, giving us the essential utensils and ingredients to allow us cook our experience, and to continue cooking and eating for those who want to continue enjoying this rich story. The main dish, the essential theme is to butcher the multifaceted concept of eating. Through its volumes, one gets to discover and savor, in a divine comedy/hero's journey-descent from the circles of hell type of story, the owning of the ultimate primitive truth: the inherent and unstopable need to eat, the principle on which life is sustained, the element of addiction and connection.

I loved how dungeon meshi touches on complex conflicts related to the interpretations that can be given to its premise: devouring as a metaphor for oppression and destruction of rights between races, as can be seen in the subtle yet constant racial clash between long-lived and short-lived races. Eat also stands for desecration and usurpation of the self, embodied in the winged lion nurturing, creating emotionally dependent channels of power with the lords of the dungeons climaxing in the transgression and vore of their desires, the consummation of their intrinsic life essence, can't help thinking of it as groom and SA metaphors. We can also elevate our heads to christianity and eating becomes the way of in which humanity "devour god" and proclaims its death and independence from his unconditional goodness, crowning their place at the top of the food chain, in how Laios eats the winged lion’s desires and brings humanity back to the finite. Every living being yearns for the infinite, the dissolution of uncertainty and resentments through the promise of ethernal fullfilment. But eating, or rather, the deprivation of food, its absence as a symbol of slavery in Thistle, who had to intoxicate his soul and his people for a love that has already withered and rotted centuries ago, constipation of the innate desire to want something more, for the sake of someone's else wants, Delgal and his fear of dying.

But not everything can be catastrophic, on the act of destruction is the rejoice of creation. Eating calls for the act of cooking and connection, acceptance, as Falin, Marcille and Izutsumi accepted that to live they must continue accepting the unpleasant things on the menu, added pain and suffering, is on us if we want to swallow these sour diches in orden to appreciate its miracles. It's also about reconnecting with desire and living selfishly, for the ones who live for others or for a cause, thus reclaiming their humanity and inherit right to wish for more, like Kabru, the survivor's guilt character, making his first selfish act confessing his desire for friendship to Laios, or Mithrun, who like leftovers from a buffet in which him wasn't "appetizing" enough, compotes can still grow under care and compassion and reborn, your new life starts here. In Dungeon Meshi, cooking is sharing love, caring for others and pass on our work and wishes for those in need and cherish, like Marcille feeding a comatose Falin, Senshi to his teammates and the orcs, and Chilchuck and his union. The one who is able to provide and care, is the one who deserves to stand at the top, and that's why Laios' conclusion is beautiful writing. Even though he did indeed have to sacrifice in order to gain, had let go of his dream of a kingdom where humans and monsters could live in harmony (and the monstrosity of his new body), he created a kingdom where every human and demi-human is assured their right to have a plate on their table everyday, because eating is the privilege of the living, and in order to live we must eat. Because more than food, it's the will, the desire to eat when we don't want to, to live even if we are troubled to, whoever wants to survive will do so, because hopes and desires don't die. And as long as your desires exist, there'll be a will that remains in the world and continues to feed it.

Every character in this story (including secondary and tertiary extras) share an inherent desire to continue existing, to take and claim the selfish act of consuming. I mentioned addiction earlier, because it also struck by what it means to consume when there's no need, gluttony, reflected in the winged lion's path to humanization, which makes him quite a tragic character to me. A ilimitless entity dedicated to nurturing and fulfilling humanity's dreams for millennia, he approached and mimicked humankind and consumed desires until he created his own: to fulfill them and be his own master, he decided to subjugate himself descending to earth, to the rules of biology and abandon infinity. In parallel to Laios, who desired monstrosity and sacrificed his humanity, as if it made any difference, he choose the most fitting form for a man who failed to belong, the pain of betrayal of have desired to connect with his species, is one of the most memorable moments in my reading to see the embryo of his monster emerge from his back like a shell or butterfly coming out of its cocoon, a macabre rebirth. However, the winged lion failed to understand humanity, he failed to understand Laios, he underestimated their cruelty and desire for self-destruction "they'd be happy as long as they had their stomachs full" seen in his flashback, and failed (or manipulated Laios into believing so) to understand his kindness. Every meal, every step and bitterness Laios went through, he always tried to understand the unknown, his enemy, he respected his prey and all those who helped him on his way. He respected Thistle's wishes to the end, he accepted that his menu would not be to everyone's liking (Marcille, Kabru) and admired deeply their determination to help him finish their portion, that it's possible to be accepted, even him. Laios loves monsters but he also wants his love for humanity to be mutual: if he wished for the extermination of humanity, why would he want to create a kingdom where everyone can share the meals they like with the people they love? it's a fascinating dichotomy.

Among the things that I "didn't like" or rather say, my personal preferences, are the vast extra content this story has that, at least some of it? could have perfectly been included in the main story. I have read some extras and fun facts of some characters and I think if there were included in the main plot (making sense with the timeline ofc), would have enriched the experience more. Such as Kabru's complex of believing he's half monster/succubus and the fact this belief made a butterfly effect in dragging his mother to Utaya and she dying later. I would have loved to have an entire chapter dedicated to Utaya's tragedy from Kabru or Milsiril's pov, or Mithrun pre and post Lord of the Dungeon days, getting to know more about the cannaries and such. Nonetheless, I am still satisfied with what we got. I'm more than happy to see that Mithrun, Falin and Kabru meet their conclusion with a beginning of a new life ahead.

To grap up this all, (excuse the messiness of this lol but I wanted to write this in the most sincere way!!) I loved this story and I'm currently obsessed with these people, it's been a while since I felt an entire cast like this. it's great and a treat for anyone who likes to read with their mind and heart open, or to just have fun with a dynamic cast, exciting plot twists and rich world-building and a bittersweet but well-deserved ending. This could have been such a more darker story (i'd fw it too) but I'm possitively surprised and glad it maintained it's tone to the end. It makes everything more unique and loyal to its theme of cooking=bonds/nurturing/love. It makes me immensely content to leave this story with the promise of them growing old together like a family. Senshi, Chilchuck, Izutsumi and friends keeping at close, Falin, Marcille, Kabru and Yaad helping Laios in his new life as king of Melini. He will never feel lost or alone again.

[toilettransgenderism]

The BEST LINE in the whole of good omens season two (this is definitely an exaggeration because I can't remember the whole script and there were some absolute BANGERS, "we've been talking for billions of years" UGH and "was that a travel sweet" and "but it's pretty" OH MY LORD "she had balls" I'M IN LOVE) is when Crowley says to Aziraphale "if Gabriel and Beelzebub can do it, go off together, then we can."

There's so so much to say. The fact he specifies "go off together". This isn't really a love confession. He's asking Aziraphale to reject heaven. Begging him. They have loved each other for millennia. He doesn't seem to think that an angel and a demon can't be IN LOVE, he just thinks that they can't GO OFF TOGETHER. LEAVE HEAVEN AND HELL BEHIND. BUT GABRIEL AND BEELZEBUB HAVE SHOWN HIM THAT THEY CAN. And he seems to think, or know, that Aziraphale loves him too.

I think this is the line I related to most. It's an experience all queer people will know, feeling empowered by seeing others like ourselves. Realising that we are not broken or alone in loving who we do, or being who we are.

But it's an analogy. (Idk if analogy is the right word I'm tired)

Crowley and Aziraphale don't have to worry about being gay, because in their world it simply isn't a problem. And I think that's why so many queer people are drawn to Good Omens, not because there are two men in love, or because David Tennant is fit (although I guess this also factors in) but because of the absolute denial of the idea that queerness is inherently wrong.

Anyway, um. Crowley KNOWS Aziraphale loves him. He's not confessing, he's asking if they can "be an us", and leave heaven and hell behind. But, despite everything he has seen, Aziraphale still believes heaven is good. Or at least believes he can make it good. (Which is another INCREDIBLE parallel with the real life problems of christianity in particular catholicism and the culture of brainwashing and guilt that comes with it. Thanks Neil. Genuinely. You broke everyone's heart but you're making me discover things about myself.)

The confession is almost forcing Crowley and Aziraphale to love each other like humans do, with the potential for loss. It forces them to love in preparation for them leaving heaven and hell behind. I think that's why it's so difficult for Crowley to speak to Aziraphale, because their love has gone unspoken, and Crowley already thought they were an "us". Only now is he discovering that his Angel still believes in heaven. Aziraphale isn't naive. He is in denial and filled with guilt, you can SEE THAT IN EVERYTHING HE DOES.

Anyway yeah!!! No one will read this but I needed to get it out of my system. If it makes no sense that's fine it made sense to me for at least 5 minutes.

[inthisrace]

Behold, Cease Striving!

Many people believe that serving God is a hard task. I've held onto this belief for years. The idea of reaching out to others, immersing myself in the Bible, and fully committing to Christianity seems like a difficult challenge. I often find myself wondering what more I can do to honor the Lord. However, I must confess that I've never truly intended to seek His guidance. Instead, my thoughts and reflections have remained more of a personal contemplation rather than a sincere conversation with Him. I've never genuinely asked God what He wants from me; rather, I've created my own plans and assumed they align with His will. I've mistakenly believed that merely performing actions in His name is enough to please Him.

Eventually, I found myself feeling completely drained. I couldn't even muster up the energy to keep going with the tasks I had set out to do. It became clear to me that I have a habit of starting things with a lot of excitement, only to lose interest as time goes on. This constant cycle left me feeling overwhelmed with guilt, as if I could never quite make God happy. Feeling frustrated and in need of direction, I finally turned to God and asked, "What am I supposed to do?" I was genuinely seeking an answer, but none seemed to come. My mind was filled with so many thoughts that I couldn't really focus on my desire to serve the Lord. I tried different strategies and approaches, hoping to prevent myself from stumbling over and over again. Then, finally, He got through to me. He said, "Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world."

For many nights, I couldn't shake off that statement. It was like, "Yes, I've heard that many times since my childhood: 'Behold the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world,'" but I never truly understood it. I tried asking God, but in the end, I also tried to provide the answers to my questions myself. Until I surrendered. So I asked Him, "What does that mean?" And a still, small voice whispered from within, "Behold, cease striving." Immediately, I searched what "behold" means and found out that it actually means "gaze at." Immediately, I stopped everything, got onto my knees, bowed very low because of the realization of how much I have taken Him for granted over the years, and failed to catch His gaze.

When the verse from the book of John declares, "Behold! The Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world!" (John 1:29 NKJV), it's more of a call to "Cease what you are doing!" What are we so busy about? We can be in the church, busy doing things for His kingdom, but we forget about the King. The way Mary left everything just to be seated at the feet of Jesus is what He wants from us. Martha could be so busy preparing things for the Lord but lost sight of the most important thing. It's not about doing things for the Lord that He requires from us; it's about forsaking things upon hearing the sound of His voice. So, Behold!

Indeed, Behold! Jesus might be standing before us, yet we fail to recognize His presence because our gaze is fixed on other things. So, behold. "Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world," declared John the Baptist. We are called to behold and cease striving this time, to halt everything once and for all. We need not struggle to feel His presence; but, we can yield to the Holy Spirit by fixing our gaze on Jesus and never look away.

He is the Lamb of God, the perfect sacrifice, the most worthy offering for you and me. Despite never feeling worthy of His love, I ended up being changed through the blood of the Lamb. The most holy sacrifice laid down His life for us. It's so ironic knowing that people like us, unworthy as we are, had to be saved by the only worthy person to die on the cross just to restore His perfect will over our lives.

So, loving Jesus isn't a burdensome task; it's not a complicated process because He has already prepared the way for us. He plans each step for us and waits for us to look to Him. We need to stay focused, as Isaiah said, to make a clear path for the Lord, even when life gets tough. When we do this, we understand His love and purpose for us even better.

[willshipanything-blog]

Breaking the Rules- Chapter 10

Next chapter up! Some very cute sibling-type moments for Y/N and Max here, and things start to look up! That is, until certain secrets start to come to light....

Usual warnings, Minors DNI, full tags on AO3, along with the fic there if you prefer.

Full chapter index here!

Chapter 10- The Empty House

You had dreaded what the morning might bring after confessing to Al what you had learned about him, and him tearing open those wounds to retell his story. Especially since you’d spoken such cruel words. Words you knew had thrashed at Al’s psyche, stinging as any physical crack of a belt- even if Al had swallowed back the pain. But the night had ended on a sweet, apologetic note. And the morning after had brought even more apologies, your reassurances that you loved Al accompanied by a wanton need, those desires culminating in a wonderfully shameless scene of you on your knees before him.

He’d held you awhile afterwards, the pair of you drowsing in your sweaty, halcyon bliss before Al had to peel himself away to get ready for work. His promise to return the favor for your smutty little act soon enough left your toes curling, a slow stroke of his tongue up the curve of your neck a precursor to what he would do to you later. You just hoped the scarlet in your cheeks had dissipated by the time you dressed and padded out of the bedroom.

In the kitchen, Max had already seated himself at the breakfast table with a bowl of cereal and plate of toast in front of him. You gave a sincere, affirming nod in his direction as you entered; a silent signal that things were ok. No- they were better than ok, given all that had happened. Your straight-lipped face arched into a smile, which Max cheerfully returned.

“All good?” he asked brightly.

“All good!” you echoed in the same cheerful trill, grabbing a bowl and dropping onto the stool opposite Max. You shook the open cereal box above your bowl, not caring about the inevitable sugar rush as you helped yourself to a huge helping of Magic Puffs. Max nudged the milk carton across the table. 

“Scout, I just wanted to say sorry. I know me yapping about all that stuff opened a whole fuckin’ can of worms, and I didn’t mean to lay it all on you, and then all this stuff with Al and-”

“Max,” you rebuked, irritated only by the fact Max felt the need to apologize at all, “You have nothing to be sorry for, ok? You needed to talk, and I was there to listen. Never feel guilty about trying to share your worries with me. That’s what friends are for.” Your hand had found its way atop Max’s, had reached over the table to give a reassuring squeeze. Max’s hand jerked beneath yours, as if a consoling touch was a foreign, almost painful gesture. Like skin touching a scalding stove rather than a warm embrace. He righted himself, looking up at you with those chocolate brown eyes.

“Thanks, Y/N,” Back to Christian names, you thought, Max must be serious. “It felt good- to talk, ya know? And you know you can do the same, right? Like, I know you said you didn’t wanna go over what happened to you, and I’ll absolutely respect that, Scout. But you can talk, if you’re ever feeling like you need to, ‘kay?”

You returned a small, silent smile that didn’t quite stretch to your suddenly watery eyes. Forcing the kind words to outweigh the guilt of the lies you’d created about your own past. A hand now moved on top of yours, Max’s turn to mirror your earlier gesture. It felt safe, soothing. The weight of his hand on yours, the warm palm and the fingers tapping consolatory against yours, only added to the guilt. The guilt, the absolute shame of realizing the horrors the Shaw brothers had endured, whilst pretending your own childhood had been filled with the same. Still, how truthful could you expect to be with Max without tearing your perfectly woven story to shreds? You murmured a vague statement in response. 

“I’ll keep that in mind, Max. Thank you.” Your past was a deceit, but at least your gratitude for Max's kindness was genuine. You slid out your hand from between his, suddenly finding your cereal the most interesting thing in the world. Max retreated back to his own breakfast too, the silence in the kitchen perforated only by the clang of metal spoons against crockery and the crunch of cereal, as well as Max’s occasional slurping of milk.

“Jeez, dove, I didn’t realize how damn late it was, did y- oh, mornin' Max.” Al had surged into the kitchen, barely looking over to the table before he began yanking open cupboard doors in a frantic rush. You turned in your seat to see him upending every item in a low cupboard before retrieving a thermos, obviously taking his coffee to-go this morning. 

“No time for breakfast?” you asked as he nimbly filled the flask from the luckily pre-prepared coffee machine.

“‘Fraid not,” he tutted, eyeing the cereal box on the table and the toast in front of Max, “Though I’m not sure a bowl of pure sugar really constitutes ‘breakfast’. I gotta run anyway, see you both later.” He planted a quick kiss on your cheek, and was halfway to standing when Max decided to join the fun. 

“What, no kiss for your little brother?” he mock-pouted, double tapping his cheek in jest. Remarkably, Al did lean over, dispensing a kiss right where Max had indicated, even sounding out a theatrical ‘mwah’ before bolting from the room, leaving Max (and you) in stunned silence. 

Al was already across the kitchen threshold before Max looked down, realizing his toast had been snatched from under his nose, looking at the empty plate in wide-mouthed disbelief. 

“First rule of magic, Max,” you chuckled as the front door slammed shut, picturing the smug smile plastered on Al’s face. “Misdirection.”

After breakfast, you suggested your regular routine might get things back to normal after yesterday’s turmoil.

“So, we taking Samson out for a W-A-L-K?” You spelled the final word, having been bulldozed by the huge hound last time you suggested a walk out loud. 

“Actually Scout, mind if we hold off for a little while? I saw an old buddy from high school yesterday, just bumped into him on the street. Well, he works as a cashier at Hill’s- you know, the grocery store- anyway, he said they were looking for people for the warehouse and so I gave him my number- well your number, so I might be getting a phone call soon and-” Max was effusing, but you’d gotten the gist of his ramblings, so graciously stopped him with your own ardor.

“Max, that's great! Why didn’t you say anything about it yesterday?”

“Well, things got a bit heavy with us down…” he gestured his head towards the basement door, silently reminding you both of the things Max had admitted to you in that oppressive stairwell, his heart pouring out, practically bleeding down the wooden steps. He carried on, calmer than before at the mention of the previous day’s events. “And I didn’t wanna tell Al yet, cause then I might get his hopes up and then might not even GET the damn job and he’d only be disappointed in me like usual.”

Max’s shoulder had slumped, his expression forlorn- a million miles from the animated fervor he’d shown not a minute earlier. What was it with the Shaw brothers and their ridiculously low self-esteem? Well, you actually did know the answer to that now. But you’d soon change that, in both of them. 

“Max,” you sighed, not so subtly declaring your frustration at Max’s view of himself as a disappointment, “Al doesn’t think badly of you at all, ok? Especially now you’ve gotten yourself clean and are trying to do better. But we can wait until you get a definite job to tell him if it makes you feel better.” His discomfort transformed back into an earnest, appreciative smile at your assurance. “But I have a very good feeling about this, Max.”

“Yeah, to be honest, I’m feeling good about it too. Crazy who you can just bump into walking down the street, huh?”

“Crazy. Like it was fate or something.”

Things were looking up, and you were determined this upward trend would continue, holding onto the hope that things would carry on improving. For Al. For Max. For you. If they were happy, so were you- they were your family, after all. Max, your best friend and confidante, perhaps even a brother. And Al- well, he was your everything. Both your own and his happiness depended on the other, a beautiful symbiosis of soulmates. Your world had shrunk considerably these last several months- but if it was just the two of you ruling your own little world, you could content yourself with that.   

Al first, then. You’d worried about your guilt potentially growing, burgeoning like an overgrown, unwanted weed since you’d spoken those stabbing words to him. When you’d alluded very clearly to the Grabber, even when Al was doing everything to extricate that monster from his life. But the days following didn’t feel tense or strained. A fresh slate, wiped clean of hurtful words that seemed forgotten and forgiven entirely. All that remained were evenings composed of tender embraces, sprawling on the couch in front of some old movie, and your nights together of needful passions, a blurred, blissful montage of skin and tongues and fingers and every type of licentious act you and Al pleased to enact. There were even a couple nights of your illicit Quiet Game, where your gross inability to stay silent ensured a few extra notches were carved into the mental tally. The only slate that hadn’t been wiped clean, that ever-increasing number filling you with an anticipatory thrill of things to come. 

Yes, things with Al were good. Better than good- as perfect as it had ever been. Because he’d opened up, been honest about his past. No more secrets threatening to cleave you both apart like an axe hewing a log into two splintered parts. It was like your relationship had been built anew, on stronger foundations this time, sturdy and unwavering, ready to face any tide together. 

Max was next on your agenda. His fateful meeting with an old friend came to fruition, and he managed to land that job. Although, you did cringe behind a couch pillow when he answered the phone; first in nervous anticipation, then in muted horror when he nearly slipped a ‘fuck’ and ‘shit’ three or four times in conversation. But he hung up the phone wearing the biggest grin on his face, his dimples deeper than you’d ever seen. Samson hadn’t bowled you over that morning, but Max sure did when he launched a hug in your direction (more a football tackle, but you let him spin you round regardless). 

On your belated walk that morning, Max was even more spirited than usual- a feat in itself- throwing around ideas and questions faster than you could process. When he posed a question to you about whether a trainee ‘Warehouse Operative’ would be allowed to ‘drive one of those forklift thingies’, you humored him with a hopeful, albeit aloof ‘yeah, maybe!’, closing your eyes for a moment and savoring the mental image of the outcome of such a decision. That painted a grin on your face almost as wide as Max’s.  

“Anything in that one?”

“Nah, more of the same,” Max sighed dejectedly. You were still on your mission to help out in any way you could, and right now that determination was on finding Max the perfect place to move into. You’d both been apartment hunting, flicking through reams of newspaper ads, mostly promising far too few amenities for far too many dollars. “Too expensive, no pets, no pets, too far away, waaay outta my price range…” Max trailed off, silently mouthing the scores of apartment ads looking for something suitable- no mean feat with a limited budget and a 110-pound cane corso in tow.

“Max, you know you don’t have to move straight away, right? Me and Al aren’t kicking you out or anything- we do like you staying with us, you know!” You really did love having Max around, and it brought out that protective, brotherly side of Al that you adored, watching the two of them goof around and fight. Like any normal brothers who might have shared any normal childhood. Now that Max had started his job, you’d missed his company on the few weekdays he worked. You'd almost forgotten what it was like to spend the stretch of the workday home alone, so would gladly have Max stay on at the house for a time. On the plus side, you and Al were secretly glad Max had weekend shifts scheduled, having whole Saturdays to yourselves again!

“Shit, rentals really don’t like pets, do they?” Max tutted, throwing down the newspaper on the coffee table and sinking into the couch beside you. As if in apology, Samson let out a plaintive whine from his bed in the corner. “Aww, don’t worry boy! You know I won’t leave you, dontcha?” Placated by Max’s buoyant tone, the dog gave a clipped bark before laying his head back to resume his afternoon nap. In turn, you placated Max, promising he wouldn’t have to leave until he found the perfect apartment. 

“Thanks, Y/N. I never realized it’d be this hard to settle down like a normal person.” You looked up from your own page, giving a conciliatory smile before continuing to skim the ads. Max continued his discouraged grievance. “A damn shame Al doesn’t still have that house over the street.” He let out a long exhale, before sitting back up and reaching for the next newspaper. 

It must have been another 30 seconds, your mind preoccupied with rental prices and half-baths, before what Max had just said registered fully in your brain. You folded down the newspaper, furrowing your brow as you looked at Max in bafflement.

“Wait, what was that about Al?” you snapped, a little more forcefully than you’d expected, taking you both by surprise.

“Huh? Oh, I was just saying- shame Al sold that house a few years back,” Max turned on the couch towards the window, pointing at the house opposite. You jerked around too, following Max’s finger to its target, eyeing the rundown old house across the street, almost facing but set a little to the left.

“The one with the tree in the yard?”

“Yup, that’s the one. Coulda paid Al cheap rent, and I’d have been so close to you guys! Guess it wasn’t in the cards.”

“But that house. It’s empty.” In all the time you’d been here, you’d never seen anyone come or go through the front door. No lights in any window, no one mowing the grass that was sun-bleached and overgrown. As if Al had sold it to a ghost. Max simply shrugged, suggesting it was foreclosed on someone before you moved in with Al. He turned back to the stacks of papers on the coffee table and you tentatively angled back around too, supposing that Max was right. It did seem like something unimportant years after the fact- but then why was your immediate reaction one of unease and suspicion?

“Alright, how many we got, Scout?”

“Um-,” you pulled yourself from thoughts of the empty house, your determination to help Max actually find an apartment still strong. Collating the few ads you’d circled that might fit the bill, you handed them to Max. “Just, er, three potentials in the end.”

“Cool. I’m gonna do a drive-by to check them out, wanna come?”

You declined, watching Max’s old Firesweep peel down the street with a plume of spluttering gray smoke trailing it. Once out of sight, your eyes swept back to the house across the street. Maybe it was just your imagination that had your mind reeling. Easily helped along by the suitably creepy gnarled tree, the clear signs of abandonment in the peeling paint, each dusty window and chipped roof tile. It wasn’t any secret- Max had known about the house- and it’d be easy enough to ask Al about it if you were curious, which clearly you were. 

Over dinner, talk was mostly centered around Max’s new job, with Al dryly congratulating him for not being fired after his first week. Apartment hunting had gone well, too, and Max had raved about one in particular- close by, in his price range, and pets allowed too! When he began to murmur about affording rent with his weekly paychecks, but not having a security deposit ready, Al barely glanced up from his bowl of chili to assure Max that he’d see to that, as long as Max got all the paperwork in order. The broad grin and dimples surfaced instantly at his big brother’s benevolence, with Max giving a playful punch to Al’s arm along with his enthusiastic thanks. 

A lull in the conversation had your mind recalling your earlier doubts, and it felt as good a time as any to bring up the empty house. 

“Max was saying- it’s a shame about you not still owning that house across the way.” You hadn’t asked directly, though your tone as you spoke verged on accusatory, gauging Al’s reaction to your words carefully. The briefest of flashes shone in his eye before he explained, seemingly open to talking about it after all. 

“Wow, I’m surprised you remember that, Max,” he said nonchalantly, looking to his brother with a raised eyebrow before settling back to talk to you. “Yeah, I moved out a few years after our father died, once I knew mom would be ok on her own. I hadn’t lived there very long before she got sick, and once she needed round the clock care, I just hauled myself back to our old bedroom,” he paused to take a bite of cornbread, and you noted a sudden hush from the usually rowdy side of the table Max sat at. He was looking down, suddenly keen to avoid this conversation. Was he … ashamed of something? 

“Anyway!” Al continued brightly, “It was silly to keep both houses after she passed when it was just me.” That last part was laced with a layer of disdain. Max hadn’t glanced up from his meal, keeping quiet and visibly sheepish at the comment. Al had pointedly emphasized the ‘just me’ portion of his speech, but resumed eating without looking Max’s way, ignoring the heavy tension that had dropped over the dinner table like an atom bomb. 

In an instant, all thoughts about the house Al had owned vanished, replaced by a heavy guilt that you had caused a sudden, awkward rift between the Shaw brothers. You hadn’t meant for this to happen. It felt strange to try and offer an apology, when you knew Al would insist it wasn’t your fault- and wouldn’t that just make things even more strained? So like Max, you kept quiet and finished your dinner in frigid silence. The sudden animosity over what had been discussed (and what had been omitted) was clear when Max quietly offered to clear up after dinner, and Al had coolly walked away from the table and into the living room, gesturing you to join. You trailed after with a small, fleeting smile at Max who acknowledged it with a terse nod. 

Al dropped to the couch, and you cozied up beside him on the middle seat. Based on the dinner conversation, piecing together the fragmented clues with what you already knew, it seemed there was a bitterness within Al that Max had left Denver, left Al alone to deal with issues at home. And on Max’s end, guilt and obvious regret at that fact. 

“Al,” you spoke on a hushed breath, rubbing his tense forearm with placating strokes, the corded muscle beneath the skin taut with strained irritation. “He’s here now, isn’t he?” Al looked at you then, his eyes softening. “He’s trying to be better- just like you, right?” That statement hit its mark, the fact that Max really was aspiring to do better- getting clean, the move, the job, the apartment- all evident. Keeping your presence a secret, being honest about his past. Max’s sins paled in comparison to his brother’s. If Al could be forgiven, so could Max. Al released a long, breathy sigh. 

“You’re right, dove. Of course you are.” His arm relaxed beneath your touch, and he planted a soft kiss to your cheek. 

Max appeared at the living room threshold just then, holding three cold beers in an apparent peace offering. Al urged him to hurry up, as The Price is Right was just starting, Max’s favorite game show (no matter how hopeless he was at guessing correctly). You patted the seat beside you, and Max plonked himself down, handing the beers down the line. As far as reconciliations went, it was quick and simple. Beer and TV, was that all it took to reform that brotherly bond? You’d have to remember that one, you thought incredulously. 

The momentary schism had been seemingly mended, allowing your thoughts to drift to other worries. You zoned out of the TV show, Bob Barker’s voice fading to a buzzing drone as previous doubts resurfaced. You felt a chill on the nape of your neck. Not a draft of wind from the open window behind you (it was a balmy summer’s night), but as if the house across the street was calling you, those withered branches on the dead tree like fingers beckoning. Those doubts had been eclipsed by the tension over another matter entirely, but they had returned in full force, clawing at your mind. 

Ask another time, you thought inwardly, not wanting to rock the boat anymore tonight. You doubled your efforts, shaking away those apprehensions and joining Al and Max in their playful bickering over how much a washer dryer set actually cost. Those fears soon evaporated, lost in the warmth of the evening, unable to be heard over the playful familial squabble that signaled a clear return to normal. 

Al had felt things settle this week, a calm serenity falling over the house. The quiet after the storm that had thundered through these walls: revelations about his and Max’s awful childhood, the parallels with his father, his little dove’s cutting remarks about the inescapable horrors the Grabber’s victims had faced. Her words on the matter had dug into him as deep as the blade that had embossed the flurry of white scars across his chest. The memory of her words would be as permanent as the scarring, her tongue spewing those barbs inflicting as much pain as her delicate hand clasping the knife’s hilt. 

Of course, the reality was much different- it had been Al’s fault entirely. He had enough clarity to understand that. How he had forced the knife into her hand, he who was undoubtedly guilty of the accusations she had thrown his way. She was blameless; still a strong beacon of light against the inescapable darkness he’d dragged her into. And because of her goodness, her understanding of the things he’d been through, her innate ability to forgive despite his transgressions, the storm passed and the dust settled. They’d reconciled quickly, and life had gone on as normal. Well, as close to normal as their situation might ever permit. 

It must be the universe’s way of saying ‘fuck you’, Al thought wryly. Every time things seemed good, even for a little while, a new obstacle, some malignant threat surfaced that threatened to shred the safe cocoon of him and Y/N. And though Max hadn’t meant anything by what was clearly an innocent, passing comment, Al couldn't help but feel a resentment that his brother once again knew just the thing to say to cause more upset. Max running his mouth, meaning Al needed to concoct yet another damn lie, his final secret, to keep his dove safe from the worst of himself. 

She couldn’t find out about the house across the street, the house that Al had never sold. The one that held so many ghosts- perhaps literally so when he thought of the things buried there. He’d been back only once in the recent past, to hide the wooden box that had been stowed away in Max’s room before his visit. But even then, Al hadn’t the stomach to venture into the basement. Could hardly even bear thinking about it these days, when he was trying to see himself as a better man than the one who had committed the worst, most sickening evil. 

His little thing had asked about the house with a sharp edge, as if she knew something was amiss. What if she kept prying? What if her obvious doubts didn’t quell? He’d have to come up with some sort of distraction, interrupt those pervading thoughts and occupy her mind with something else entirely. The idea that came to mind was completely shameful, though Al secretly smirked at the thought of how he would go about it. 

Would it be completely reprehensible for a small part of him to wish her to continue asking? Without a doubt. But he knew they’d both enjoy the consequences of her inquisitive prying.

[saulwexler]

what'd you think is more catholic coded, nacho and all the parallelisms with jesus and all that stuff, or the rightful holy repentance through punishment and suffering of mcwexler 🛐

as the world's shittiest former-catholic, i'm really glad you asked!

would it be bad if i said mcwexler is more catholic than this 😬

way smarter people have discussed nacho and any input would be lovely. personally i respect nacho’s role as scapegoat, ransom to the devil, and shirtless guy coated in oil – but even if the aesthetic is👌 comparisons sort of start and end their for me 🤷🏻‍♀️ nacho’s morally gray and therefore not catholic-coded enough. but the catholic lense of  confession, penance, and redemption is just soooo mcwexler<3

thinking about jimmy’s two versions of the heisenberg story, and how by elevating his involvement from victim to accomplice helped regain his soul according to gould:

"Jimmy gets his soul back. But he’s going to be incarcerated for some amount of time. And that just felt right (x)"/ "I don't know if he's redeemed himself... but he has won his humanity back (x)"

the soul as something that can be gained/lost gives general christian vibes, but there elements that feel specifically catholic to me"

(1) the sacrament of reconciliation: really, the *only* sin god cannot forgive is failure to repent for mortal sins. jimmy’s first confession to marie fails this, but on second go around jimmy *does* confesses to a mortal sin (adulation with deliberate consent). and since confession 2 was voluntary, thats 79 years of self-imposed soul-saving penance (bonus points for the insurance thing – confession is also a salve for guilt).

(3) satisfactory punishment. when walt et al. selfishly died without repenting, they left an imbalance in the moral universe. luckily, catholics believe one may follow christ’s example and bear another's cross. by accepting full blame in building walt’s empire he can pay walt’s debts and restore balance.

(4) penance as medicinal: a self-induced punishment should equal the pleasure obtained while sinning through self-denial. take the opening and final scene of s6: gaudy lust-filled den of sin (damanged soul) is contrasted by barbed wire and slave-labor bread (healed soul). so a prison where he can have ice cream and golf would not do!

It felt right that Saul has been in court so many times as an attorney, and now he's there as a prisoner. And it felt right that he's made a mockery of the justice system, and now he's part of it. He's gone from being one of the people in the courtroom who runs the courtroom to be the subject. And that just felt right (x)

importantly, punishment is meant to help the sinner only – the 79 years do not meaningfully improve the lives of the victims or others involved (jimmy did not save kim from consequences nor would she want him to – idk why so many reporters think this???). kim’s confession is not as catholic, since giving cheryl closure is somewhat beneficial. but penance is a moral good in itself.

I personally don’t think what he’s doing is to save her from being implicated. She has already confessed to exactly what she did. There’s nothing Jimmy can save her from with that. Yeah. But I do think that those last moments in the courtroom are the two of them seeing each other without masks, like they used to (x)

(5) virtue of good works (this one's such a stretch): after regaining god’s grace, mcwexler can once again be given the virtues that were lost upon mortal sin, such as giving and receiving love from each other/ acts of charity (legal aid). other virtues (prudence, fortitude, temperance, humility) are woven into this too - regaining these virtues helps jimmy go from near-strangler to stable human without years of therapy.

with all that, no one suffered more than the girl writing this

[nightrae13]

I know we all need to hear this regardless if you believe it or not, but God loves you, you know? Bad things happen in this life because of our free will, because we deliberately choose to sin and be selfish. That sin caused death to exist and drove us away from God. However, God loves us so much that Jesus died to take up that punishment of our sins. Imagine that the only sinless man on this world was beaten and humiliated to death for all of us. Still, He rose again, and defeated death, so that if we believe in Him, tho our physical bodies will still die, we can still live again with Him in Heaven! I know some already heard this, and would think that I'm speaking gibberish, but I stand with my faith. If I can be corny with fictional characters and fandom (that I do enjoy but never really completed me and brought me peace), even more so with God!

I just went to confession earlier after I wasn't satisfied with how I read in the mass eve though it was already my seventh time. I realized that I performed poorly because I kept my world isolated out of guilt and pride with my own issues and grudges with myself and other people, and because I lived only for school and social media for so long. I closed myself and feel incomplete and distant. The same time, I also reflected on our Philosophy class about death, and our project to make a reflective essay about "Tuesdays with Morrie." That lesson and story got me thinking on "how long will I live like this? Living in fear from people because I don't want to be rejected for my beliefs? When will I stop going with the crowd instead of forming communities? When will I stop drowning myself with pride from admitting I was wrong and secretly hated others?" I may be young, but anything can happen, you know? As I learned from Morrie, he gave himself time to cry, but he moved on because he wanted to make the most of his life striving to be happy than waste it with regret. How long do we ponder in the past that we forget the present exactly?

TLDR: feel like this ramble is so unorganized but I just want to share how happy I am to go to confession earlier as a huge weight was lifted off me, and I can finally start again. I'm done living to please other people and living with hatred and pride. It's still a working progress, but it's all possible because God is there for me. Even if I backslid and avoided testifying then, He didn't give up. This happiness came because through His blood I am cleansed. Sometimes, we really forget how much He sacrificed for us, so that the Spirit can dwell with us to guide us in our lives if we accept Him. The priest told me that I should let go of my grudges and hatred for myself because God loves me. I hope you guys know that too <33

I know some Christians who'd read this aren't Catholic, but as someone who struggled with Catholic faith as well despite growing up as one, I do have to thank Impact Ministries (I recommend this vid btw) for enlightening me that confessing to fellow Christians does help even if God is the only one that can forgive us. Catholic or not, it really helps if you have someone to confide in with your struggles :)

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Good Fuckin’ Evening, S!

Sorry for not spewing my thoughts into your inbox for a while 😅 Got into a fight with a car and lost so I had to deal with that :) I’m completely fine, it was small, we’re gonna be okay.

ANYWAY, I WATCHED PAIN HUSTLERS!

And in between laughing my ass off at Chris Evans rapping (we love this little guy tho) I was also thinking about Sebastian and how he might react to the scene of Chris holding a baby (that kid was really fucking cute. Like so cute.)

Maybe he gets real sentimental. Maybe he tells Chris that he’d be a good dad. And maybe, just maybe, they both discover a lil something about themselves.

SEBS POV

Like when the breath gets punched out of Sebastian’s breath when after one of his comments about Chris being a good dad Chris had joked “What, you gonna give me babies, Seb?”

A gasp slips out of Sebastian. Fuck, does he like that? Oh no, he does. And Chris knows. An evil little smile dawns on his face, and he presses his chest (hnngg, his chest) up to Sebastian’s back, leaning into his ear and whispering filthily.

“Yeah, you want that? You want me to fill you up? That what you want, sweetheart?”

Seb’s knees buckle, a whine bursting from him. “Tell me, Seb. Tell me what you want.” He growls, and shit, he nearly passes out from the blood rushing south.

“Want- Oh my god- Want you, Chris. Wanna be yours. Wanna- Want you to fuck me, please!” he cries, and Chris turns his head around and kisses him like his soul is on the line.

“Why should I do that, starlight?” Chris says in a low, make-your-mind-go-blank voice.

“Please, please, please! Want it so bad! Need it!” Sebastian cries, and if he doesn’t get fucked right now he will go insane, no hesitation.

Okay that’s all my christian guilt will let me write and I already feel like I should go to confession and I’m not even catholic.

Have a good day, S!

-⚡️anon

Well I am so fucking glad you're okay! Don't worry about how often you're here, this is all just for fun, y’know?

I love that that is what you got from Pain Hustlers, lmao. Iconic. Also, same, that's very much something I would do, come out of a film with only unholy thoughts 👀

You're very right, though. I bet the scene with that baby drove Sebastian crazy, at first he was having purely sweet, sentimental thoughts but then, of course, Chris fucking blindsides him. Chris is too fucking hot for his own good and his mouth is all too filthy. Sebastian hates it. Why does anything Chris says sound so fucking sexy!? 😫 He's trying to not have a horny crisis over here!

Thank you for these delicious, filthy ideas 😘

[felixferitas]

CONFESSION - what’s your muse’s thoughts about religion?

i think felix was raised christian, anglo-catholicism being the catton's specific denomination. he was born to it but i don't think he practices it and it's another thing he goes along with so as to not upset his mum. i think he has an insane amount of guilt that could be explained away easily as "catholic guilt" but i think that's watering things down too much and while most of felix's guilt is probably existential and because of original sin, his excessive wealth certainly doesn't help with those pre-existing feelings. aside from the manipulation he likely already experienced just growing up as elspeth's son, maybe the church's role in his life is another reason he fell for oliver's lies and manipulations so easily.

[restbeyondtheriver]

Can you please pray for me? I'm really struggling with feeling responsible for ushering the salvation of people in my life. My church is working through this series on selecting four people in your life and helping them to know Jesus. My pastor says things like "Without your help someone is facing an eternity without their Creator." I know that as Christians we are tasked with spreading the good news, and when I think about the amount of people I know or have met who aren't saved I feel overwhelmed and guilty. Maybe it's a generational thing too but I'm gen z and it just seems like people my age either get combative or put up a wall when you mention faith. I'm more than willing to have those conversations with people when the opportunity arises but until then all I've been doing is praying for others and trying to live like Jesus/be a light. Still I worry that I'm not "trying enough" and I'm letting God down.

I'll use my salvation story as an example & maybe it will help:

I heard the call of the Holy Spirit at 9 years old, I answered it at 12 years old. I white-knuckled the pew every Sunday for years filled with paranoid thoughts about why I shouldn't go forward: I am scared -> I know I shouldn't be scared -> I've waited to long to go forward & am embarrassed -> I've waited too long & now I feel behind -> I feel like I'm in trouble & I don't want to be a bad person but I am so what do I do etc. etc. etc.

I did raise my hand when asked if I needed to make a decision one Sunday though & a deacon saw me. He ran out in the parking lot to tell my mom who took me back in (I was fully panicking now lol). The pastor was leading me in the sinners prayer & I even blurted out "I can't do this!"

I did though, I did say the sinners prayer & I did mean it. It was not some mystical or magical thing that made all fear disappear in that millisecond. Frankly, I was tired & puffy eyed & still felt very outed & embarrassed as a bad person (this is silly, the cross already outed me & you as that & everyone was very very happy about my decision, they did not make me feel bad, I was just an anxious kid). This is because conversion is to do with acceptance of will or heart, not of feeling, & feelings just always take me awhile. My soul was saved, the rest of me needed some work & always will - to quote my own pastor.

I say all of that to say this: the conviction was to raise my hand when everyones eyes were closed & to make a decision because I knew that was the truth. This was different than the paranoia I had felt before this. It was a moment just between me & God where I was totally honest. I knew what I needed to do &, with a lot of pre-teen angst in toe, did it. I was just afraid & God saved me anyway. I had to have a lot of help to confess with my mouth my conviction that He is Lord & God saved me anyway. I still look back on it & squirm & am embarrassed at myself & God saved me anyway. 

I'm more than willing to have those conversations with people when the opportunity arises but until then all I've been doing is praying for others and trying to live like Jesus/be a light - is all you have to do, just like the decon that day did. The conviction the deacon had to run out in the parking lot in a suit & tie to flag down my mom just to make sure she knew probably made him feel a little strange, but he also knew the truth of what he needed to do. He just was there & willing to serve. God does the good work regardless of our feelings of silliness or embarrassment or overwhelm or guilt. He expects our imperfections & has made ample provision. You are listening & praying & improving & helping just as you are, wait for conviction & then act. Don't be afraid to feel a little (or a lot) overwhelmed.

God hasn't placed the responsibility of these 4 people on your shoulders, He has placed it on His own. He can carry it. He does carry it now.