#and then complain when their children don’t want anything to do with the church as adults

[memepocalypse]

The Simpsons pt 2

Quotes from the Simpsons, made into RP starters!

"I like to think that I’m a patient, tolerant person and that there was no line that you could cross that would make me stop loving you."

“It takes two to lie; one to lie, and one to listen.”

“I’m not normally a praying man, but if you’re up there, please save me, Superman.”

“Well, I hope you’ve learned your lesson: never help anyone.”

“To alcohol! The cause of, and solution to, all of life’s problems.”

"If you don’t like your job you don’t strike. You just go in every day and do it really half-assed. That’s the American way.”

"You tried your best and you failed miserably. The lesson is, never try.”

“As soon as you stop this car, I’m gonna hug you, and kiss you, and then I’ll never be able to let you go!"

“Marriage is like a coffin and each kid is another nail.”

“If God didn’t want me to eat chicken in church, then he would have made gluttony a sin.”

“Between your genius and my nothing we make a great team, come on give me a hug!”

“Look, the least you can let me do is anything I want.”

“If anyone asks you something you don’t understand, just say protons.”

“Just sit through this NRA meeting, and if you still don’t think guns are great then we’ll argue some more.”

“No, no honey, I love everything you force me to do.”

“A boy without mischief is like a bowling ball without a liquid center.”

“You’re going to stay your current age for the rest of your lives.”

“I’m so embarrassed I wish there was a hole I could just crawl into and die.”

“I guess one person can make a difference. But most of the time, they probably shouldn’t.”

“If you raised three children who can knock out and hogtie a perfect stranger you must be doing something right.”

“You know the courts might not work anymore, but as long as everyone is videotaping everyone else justice will be done!”

“Halloween is a very strange holiday. Personally, I don’t understand it. Kids worshipping ghosts, pretending to be devils.”

“I can’t promise I’ll try, but I’ll try to try.”

“Hey, cool, I’m dead.”

“Everything changes when you get to the big one-o. Your legs start to go, candy doesn’t taste as good anymore.”

"You're asking the wrong guy."

“She’s like a Milk Dud. Sweet on the outside, poison on the inside.”

“Prayer. The last refuge of a scoundrel.”

"Look, I found something more fun than complaining!”

“Does it make you feel superior to tear down people’s dreams?”

[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 4: Persuasive

“What kind of rubbish is this?”

The voice is so sharp it jolts me from a deep sleep, making me panic when I try to recognize my unfamiliar surroundings. Oh, right. I’m employed now.

“But Tommy, it’s really good!” I hear Finn complain.

“I don’t care! It’s American rubbish is what it is!” Thomas barks.

As quick as I can, I hastily throw on a robe I find in the closet and peek my head out.

“What’s going on?”

Outside, Thomas is holding the copy Common Sense I gave to Finn yesterday. They both look over and see me, then Finn starts laughing.

“Nice robe!”

Confused, I look down and inspect the robe for any unusual features only to find nothing. “What’s wrong with it?”

“That’s Tommy’s old robe.”

His words send a blush creeping across my cheeks, one that I hope goes unnoticed. “Sorry about that. I was getting dressed in a hurry. What’s all this yelling about?”

Thomas’ jaw tightens and he strides over to corner me against the wall, holding the book in my face.

“Is this yours?”

I nod stiffly. “Yes. I gave it to Finn to see if he’d like it. I’m trying to find him more interesting topics to read-”

“Well, keep your American ideas to yourself. He needs to be educated, not fed ideas of rebellion and philosophy.”

His words send anger coursing through me, waking me up from my dazed state. “Since when do you get to decide if my American ideas aren’t good enough? You may be my boss, but your aunt hired me.” I snatch the book. “If you think my resources are unworthy then take it up with her.”

In a furious rage, Thomas storms down the hall and slams the door, startling Polly who has just come from the other door.

“What’s he on about now?”

“He doesn’t want me to read American literature,” Finn whines.

“What?” Polly scoffs. “That stubborn fool. Verena, I don’t care what he says. I’m sure whatever books you suggest will be efficient.” She puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “I will talk to him. Right now, get cleaned up and ready. Your first lesson with Finn can begin after he’s finished breakfast.”

“Is Thomas always this arrogant?”

She shakes her head in defeat. “He has his mother’s common sense, but his father’s devilment. Lord knows he needs help.”

A thought pops into my head.

“Before Finn’s lesson, I might wish to do some reading or sit in prayer. There wouldn't happen to be a church or chapel here? Or just some quiet place where I could clear my head?”

Polly’s eyes light up. “I’ve got just the palace for you.”

It really is a beautiful church. Not too big, but still grand and modest at the same time. I’m not Catholic but the welcoming atmosphere is refreshing compared to the ugly world outside-

“Oh.” I’m startled to see I’m not the only one here. “Fancy seeing you here,” I speak up.

Thomas doesn’t turn to face me. “Did Polly send you here to reprehend me? Scold me for being too forbidding of your culture?” He says in a darkly taunting voice.

“Actually, no. She said she’d stop by later to give you a personal chat about something important. I’m here to pray.”

Tommy doesn’t argue and allows me to sit in the pew across from him, staying quiet and pulling out a cigarette.

“Those things will kill you, you know. My father smokes too, but I was never a fan of it. Doctors may not agree yet, but I say that smoking only increases the risk of lung failure. Plus, the smell can be unbearable. Especially to children.”

“Are you here to preach or pray, love?” Thomas complains.

I keep my mouth shut and close my eyes for prayer, silently hoping that my family will send for me. I ask for blessings on the entire Shelby family for helping me, even if some of them can be very unlikable at times. 

I’m amazed that Thomas never interrupts me. If anything, it’s as if he’s tried to not make a sound at all since I’ve started. When I finish I see he’s lost in thought, so I quietly stand up and walk down the pews to give him privacy-

“You hate it here, don’t you?” Thomas stops me in my tracks. “That’s what you prayed for, eh? For your family to come get you or for some dashing bloke to come rescue you from this Hell hole? Say what you want about us, but this is our home.”

After taking a calming breath, I pivot and walk back to stand across from him. “Are you always this gallant of yourself? Always assuming everyone is against you?” I put my hands on my hips and look up to face his icy eyes. “Yes, I do wish to leave here. Call it sappy, but I’m homesick! Imagine going from being on vacation to being stranded somewhere alone where the town is like a demilitarized zone and the people are snakes!”

Thomas holds up his hands. “Whoa, whoa! We’re not all snakes.” He leans in and snickers. “It’s the coppers who are the snakes.”

I roll my eyes. “You can be unbearably arrogant. I imagine you’ve got all of Small Heath wrapped around your little finger, don’t you?”

“I can be very persuasive.”

“If you say so,” I shrug and walk back to the door.

“Where are you off to now?” Thomas calls.

“Off to teach Finn’s lesson before you can persuade me to go jump in the river.”

The lesson was a success. Ever since Finn got to read my ‘contrabanned’ books he’s been all but willing to learn. He definitely has his brothers’ ambition and attitude. Polly came in a few times to check up on us and seemed pleased. Even Thomas popped in once to “fetch some cigarettes,” but still couldn’t hide his interest when I began lecturing about macroeconomics.

“How do you know so much about finance?” He outright asks.

Haha, funny story. The truth is that my Uncle Colon liked me best out of all my brothers, and therefore spent extra time with me teaching about the family business. Not my father’s brewery, but the unofficial mob business. I can’t exactly come right out and say “It’s because my family’s in the mafia,” so I decide to do a small white lie.

“I read a lot, so I pick things up here and there.” Not a complete lie.

Tommy arches a brow but appears convinced and walks off down the hall. Once he’s gone, Finn looks at me with a mischievous grin.

“What?” I ask.

“Oh, nothing.” Finn goes back to reading. “I’ve never seen Tommy interested in books until you showed up.”

“You didn’t like them either,” I try to re-route the conversation.

Finn just shrugs and keeps reading, leaving me to ponder over what he just said. I don’t know Thomas well enough, but is Finn right? Has me being here made him start acting differently? He doesn’t take me as someone who gets emotionally attached to people. From what I can gather, he’s incredibly cold and forbidding, making me wonder if he’s capable of any emotion other than anger and pride. I push the thought aside and continue making notes for the week’s lesson plan.

Later that night I help make bread despite Polly’s bickering about me “being a house guest.” The only one missing is Ada, but no one seems to notice. All the while Thomas keeps whispering to his brothers, who are all looking back and forth at me as if I’m a painting on the wall. After everyone’s eaten they all go their separate ways, and once again I retreat to my room for some light reading before bed. Turns out it goes much faster than I plan because then next time I check the clock it’s one in the morning.

Click!

I look up from the page I’m reading, alerted by a noise coming from the hallway. “What on Earth…?”

Quietly, I creep to the door and open it a crack to see a woman’s silhouette creeping in from the back door. It’s Ada. Sneaking in during the late night hours? Suspicious…

Opening the door wider, she freezes at the sound of the creaking wood.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you look as though you’ve got something to hide.”

She turns around slowly, then relaxes when she sees it’s me. “You Americans always this blunt and cocky?”

I tilt my head. “When we want to be. I’ve been taking a lesson from your brothers about being cocky. But I’m not the one keeping secrets, Ada. I’m not a Shebly. You answer to Polly, not me.”

My response surprises her because she smiles and shakes her head. “I never said I’d say anything.”

I shrug. “You didn’t. But that won’t stop your consciousness overwhelming you with guilt.”

This takes a few moments to completely wash over her. Ada keeps staring at me with an indescribable face, then slowly starts to walk past me towards her own room.

“Wow. American and a philosopher. Polly must be proud of your strong moral compass.”

Wait. She’s offended by this? “Ada, I’m not trying to offend you. Heck, I just promised to keep my mouth shut about your late return! Why are you mad?”

Ada gets to her door and stops to look me dead in the eyes. “Maybe it’s because an outsider is allowed into our house without question? Hm? You’re a stranger from America, we don’t know who you or your family are, and Polly just lets you in like you’re a stray dog.”

Her words keep firing at me like a conversational battle. “I’m not playing into your family’s kindness to gain anything. I was offered housing and employment, so I accepted it. Yes, I know I’m an outsider. So I say again: if you have a problem, take it up with Polly.” I throw my arms up to end the chat and stride back to my room, but not before I hear:

“I’m sorry. I guess it’s not just the Americans who are stubborn.”

Without turning my head, I answer: “Stereotypes are ways to dig yourself into a hole of assumptions. Goodnight, Ms. Shelby.”

[mirrortouchedsea]

sending tatsukana waves in ur brain

Combined with a prompt from @agried on discord

HiMERU hated the church as soon as he stepped foot in it. Not only had his younger brother been stuck there for months, the bastard Amagi HiMERU had decided to travel with, would not shut up about trying to marry Shiina. And Kazehaya, on top of all of that, indulged in their shenanigans! Amagi’s whining was almost unbearable but it’s not as if HiMERU could just leave now. He had found his brother, his sole purpose in wandering the wasteland around them, and what sort of brother would he be if he just up and left over something like that? 

At the very least, it seemed that the church itself had also stifled some of Shiina’s cravings for food. There wasn’t anything about the building that would make anyone think that it could “cure” zombieism, but it seemed to do just that. At least, while the infected were within the walls, and only if they hadn’t fully turned and passed on. 

One night, after Kaname and Tatsumi Kazehaya had squirreled away somewhere (Kaname complained about HiMERU keeping him from seeing Kazehaya during the day, and would always run off at night, much to HiMERU’s chagrin) and Shiina had passed out in the corner with Oukawa, snacks spilling onto his lap, HiMERU was approached by Amagi. This wasn’t an unusual occurrence by any means, the two of them often planning their next day’s travels together after the two younger party members were asleep, but since finding the church the meetings had been less frequent and brief. 

“Hey, Merumeru, you got a minute?” HiMERU was sitting outside in the cool night air. The church was stifling in the nighttime. 

“He knows you’re going to bother him anyway, so out with it Amagi.” 

“So cold!” Amagi sat himself next to HiMERU on the ground. “Well anyway, I know Niki-kun is…I really want to marry him, since we don’t know when things will get…” Better, HiMERU completed in his head. It was always when, not if with Amagi. “I don’t know what I would do if something happened to him.” 

The various nights Amagi and Shiina had gone back and forth on that question before arriving at the church, HiMERU and Oukawa could tell Shiina had cold feet about it. Something from before everything, before meeting the two of them, kept Shiina from saying yes. Shiina himself had admitted to HiMERU one of the nights Amagi was out of town on a supply run that he wanted to say yes but didn’t know how. 

“HiMERU thinks you two need to talk like adults instead of the children you act like every day.” 

“You really think we act like that?” Amagi’s tone was teasing but HiMERU could never let a chance like this slip away. 

“The two of you are constantly fighting about the stupidest of things, delaying our movements and making our mornings hell. You can never be honest about your feelings and HiMERU would rather have the two of you sucking face in front of him because then at least you would be quiet and he could get some peace and quiet.” Amagi’s face had turned bright red at the last remark. 

“D’ya think he’d be okay with it, then?” 

“Amagi, HiMERU cannot stress this enough, Shiina is the only one who would want to deal with you for the rest of their life.” 

--- 

As happy as Kaname was about seeing his big brother, it was a bit…overwhelming seeing him in person all the time. Before, at least, Kaname could lie over the phone about his activities, pretend to be doing everything his brother asked of him and his brother would be none the wiser. But in person, it was hard to escape the overpowering stare of that same brother who was almost detached over the tinny speaker of Kaname’s phone. 

It had been several months since they had spoken, so maybe big brothers just got protective when they didn’t know what happened to their younger siblings. The wild guy with red hair seemed to be protective of Hiiro, one of the other people staying at the church, and the two of them looked like brothers. Kaname’s brother’s friend (what a mouthful, but honestly Kaname could never be bothered to learn that guy’s name) was overbearing sometimes towards Hiiro, not letting him go out on dangerous missions, opting to go himself. If Kaname wasn’t…then his brother would probably do the same. 

Night was the only time Kaname got any time away from his brother it seemed. He would slip away to Tatsumi’s secret room behind the altar of the church and they would sit and talk. Kaname knew his brother resented Tatsumi, with how he never allowed Kaname to talk to him during the day, but he couldn’t understand why. Tatsumi was the one who saved Kaname, took him in even when he was a stranger to him and fed him. Tatsumi was even able to save Kaname after his… 

He hated to dwell on it. Tatsumi’s body was much warmer, Kaname curled up into his side. He would move mountains if Tatsumi asked him to, but he also saw how Tatsumi pushed himself too far. Curling up against him was the only way to get Tatsumi to actually rest some nights. Kaname didn’t want to watch the priest work himself to death. Tatsumi hated to disturb Kaname’s sleep and would indulge in the moment. Kaname didn’t totally understand Tatsumi’s religion, but the little he did know, he wished that Tatsumi could let himself be free. Just for a day. 

“Hey, Tatsumi-senpai.” Kaname adjusts his body so his head is in Tatsumi’s lap, staring up at him. 

“Yes, Kaname-san?” Tatsumi’s hand drifted to Kaname’s hair and Kaname closed his eyes, savoring the touch. 

“You need to sleep more. I’m worried about you sometimes, with those bags under your eyes.” They don’t suit you. 

“I’m fine, Kaname-san, but I appreciate the concern.” Kaname hummed and rolled onto his side, facing the wall away from Tatsumi. Ugh, couldn’t this guy just take the hint already? 

“Well I think I’m going to have nightmares again tonight so will you sleep with me?” Kaname did sometimes have nightmares and Tatsumi being nearby, especially if they were touching in some way did help ward them off so it wasn’t entirely a lie. A white lie, to get Tatsumi to care for himself. 

Tatsumi chuckled. “If it’ll help you sleep, then I’m sure I can take a rest with you.” 

Kaname immediately moved to make room for Tatsumi on the small bedroll they shared most nights. “Thank you, Tatsumi-senpai.” This close, Kaname could appreciate Tatsumi’s moles on his perfect face, tempting him to run a thumb over them, leave gentle kisses on them. 

Could Tatsumi officiate his own wedding? 

Maybe Kaname should ask him on a date first. When this was all over, Kaname could leave the church and they could get ice cream together, kissing the remnants from their lips. 

And maybe he should try and be content with sleeping in Tatsumi’s arms for the night until that day comes. 

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Kate Cohen

Published: Oct 3, 2023

I like to say that my kids made me an atheist. But really what they did was make me honest.

I was raised Jewish — with Sabbath prayers and religious school, a bat mitzvah and a Jewish wedding. But I don’t remember ever truly believing that God was out there listening to me sing songs of praise.

I thought of God as a human invention: a character, a concept, a carry-over from an ancient time.

I thought of him as a fiction.

Today I realize that means I’m an atheist. It’s not complicated. My (non)belief derives naturally from a few basic observations:

The Greek myths are obviously stories. The Norse myths are obviously stories. L. Ron Hubbard obviously made that stuff up. Extrapolate.

The holy books underpinning some of the bigger theistic religions are riddled with “facts” now disproved by science and “morality” now disavowed by modern adherents. Extrapolate.

Life is confusing and death is scary. Naturally, humans want to believe that someone capable is in charge and that we continue to live after we die. But wanting doesn’t make it so.

Child rape. War. Etc.

And yet, when I was younger, I would never have called myself an atheist — not on a survey, not to my family, not even to myself.

Being an “atheist,” at least according to popular culture, seems to require so much work. You have to complain to the school board about the Pledge of Allegiance, stamp over “In God We Trust” on all your paper money and convince Grandma not to go to church. You have to be PhD-from-Oxford smart, irritated by Christmas and shruggingly unmoved by Michelangelo’s “Pietà.” That isn’t me — but those are the stereotypes.

And then there are the data.Studies have shown that many, many Americans don’t trust atheists. They don’t want to vote for atheists, and they don’t want their children to marry atheists. Researchers have found that even atheists presume serial killers are more likely to be atheist than not.

Given all this, it’s not hard to see why atheists often prefer to keep quiet about it. Why I kept quiet. I wanted to be liked!

But when I had children — when it hit me that I was responsible for teaching my children everything — I wanted, above all, to tell them the truth.

Their first atheist lesson was completely impromptu. Noah was 5, Jesse was 3, and we were sitting on the couch before bed reading from “D’Aulaires’ Book of Greek Myths,” a holdover from my childhood bookshelf. One of the boys asked what a “myth” was, and I told them it was a story about how the world works. People used to believe that these gods were in charge of what happened on Earth, and these stories helped explain things they didn’t understand, like winter or stars or thunder. “See” — I flipped ahead and found a picture — “Zeus has a thunderbolt.”

“They don’t believe them anymore?” No, I said. That’s why they call it “myth.” When people still believe it, they call it “religion.” Like the stories about God and Moses that we read at Passover or the ones about Jesus and Christmas.

The little pajama-clad bodies nodded, and on we read.

That was it — the big moment. It was probably also the easiest moment.

Before one son became preoccupied with death. Before the other son had to decide whether to be bar mitzvahed. Before my daughter looked up from her math homework one day to ask, “How do we know there’s no God?”

Religion offers ready-made answers to our most difficult questions. It gives people ways to mark time, celebrate and mourn. Once I vowed not to teach my children anything I did not personally believe, I had to come up with new answers. But I discovered as I went what most parents discover: You can figure it out as you go.

Establishing a habit of honesty did not sap the delight from my children’s lives or destroy their moral compass. I suspect it made my family closer than we would have been had my husband and I pretended to our children that we believed in things we did not. We sowed honesty and reaped trust — along with intellectual challenge, emotional sustenance and joy.

Those are all personal rewards. But there are political rewards as well.

My children know how to distinguish fact from fiction — which is harder for children raised religious. They don’t assume conventional wisdom is true and they do expect arguments to be based on evidence. Which means they have the skills to be engaged, informed and savvy citizens.

We need citizens like that.

Lies, lying and disinformation suffuse mainstream politics as never before. A recent Washington Post-ABC News poll found that 29 percent of Americans believe that President Biden was not legitimately elected, a total composed of those who think there is solid evidence of fraud (22 percent) and those who think there isn’t (7 percent). I don’t know which is worse: believing there to be evidence of fraud when even the Trump campaign can’t find any or asserting the election was stolen even though you know there’s no proof.

Meanwhile, we are just beginning to grasp that artificial intelligence could develop an almost limitless power to deceive — threatening the ability of even the most alert citizen to discern what’s real.

We need Americans who demand — as atheists do — that truth claims be tethered to fact. We need Americans who understand — as atheists do — that the future of the world is in our hands. And in this particular political moment, we need Americans to stand up to Christian nationalists who are using their growing political and judicial power to take away our rights. Atheists can do that.

Fortunately, there are a lot of atheists in the United States — probably far more than you think.

[ Ellen Weinstein for The Washington Post ]

Some people say they believe in God, but not the kind favored by monotheistic religions — a conscious supreme being with powers of intercession or creation. When they say “God,” they mean cosmic oneness or astonishing coincidences. They mean that sense of smallness-within-largeness they’ve felt while standing on the shore of the ocean or holding a newborn baby or hearing the final measures of Chopin’s “Fantaisie-Impromptu.”

So, why do those people use the word “God” at all? The philosopher Daniel C. Dennett argues in “Breaking the Spell”that since we know we’re supposed to believe in God, when we don’t believe in a supernatural being we give the name instead to things we do believe in, such as transcendent moments of human connection.

Whatever the case, in 2022, Gallup found that 81 percent of Americans believe in God, the lowest percentage yet recorded. This year, when it gave respondents the option of saying they’re not sure, it found that only 74 percent believe in God, 14 percent weren’t sure, and 12 percent did not believe.

Not believing in God — that’s the very definition of atheism. But when people go around counting atheists, the number they come up with is far lower than that. The most recent number from Pew Research Center is 4 percent.

What’s with the gap? That’s anti-atheist stigma (and pro-belief bias) at work. Everybody’s keeping quiet, because everybody wants to be liked. Some researchers, recognizing this problem, developed a workaround.

In 2017, psychologists Will Gervais and Maxine Najle tried to estimate the prevalence of atheism in the United States using a technique called “unmatched count”: They asked two groups, of 1,000 respondents each, how many statements were true among a list of statements. The lists were identical except that one of them included the statement “I believe in God.” By comparing the numbers, the researchers could then estimate the percentage of atheists without ever asking a direct question. They came up with around 26 percent.

If that’s true or even close, there are more atheists in the United States than Catholics.

Do you know what some of those atheists call themselves? Catholics. And Protestants, Jews, Muslims and Buddhists. General Social Survey data back this up: Among religious Americans, only 64 percent are certain about the existence of God. Hidden atheists can be found not just among the “nones,” as they’re called — the religiously unaffiliated — but also in America’s churches, mosques and synagogues.

“If you added up all the nominal Christians, Jews, Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists, etc. — those who are religious in name only,” Harvard humanist chaplain Greg M. Epstein writes in “Good Without God,”“you really might get the largest denomination in the world.”

Atheists are everywhere. And we are unusually disposed to getting stuff done.

I used to say, when people asked me what atheists do believe, that it was simple: Atheists believe that God is a human invention.

But now, I think it’s more than that.

If you are an atheist — if you do not believe in a Supreme Being — you can be moral or not, mindful or not, clever or not, hopeful or not. Clearly, you can keep going to church. But, by definition, you cannot believe that God is in charge. You must give up the notion of God’s will, God’s purpose, God’s mysterious ways.

In some ways, this makes life easier. You don’t have to work out why God might cause or ignore suffering, what parts of this broken world are God’s plan, or what work is his to do and what is yours.

But you also don’t get to leave things up to God. Atheists must accept that people are allowing — we are allowing — women to die in childbirth, children to go hungry, men to buy guns that can slaughter dozens of people in minutes. Atheists believe people organized the world as it is now, and only people can make it better.

No wonder we are “the most politically active group in American politics today,” according to political scientist Ryan Burge, interpreting data from the Cooperative Election Study.

That’s right: Atheists take more political action — donating to campaigns, protesting, attending meetings, working for politicians — than any other “religious” group. And we vote. In his study on this data, sociologist Evan Stewart noted that atheists were about 30 percent more likely to vote than religiously affiliated respondents.

We also vote far more than most religiously unaffiliated people. That’s what distinguishes atheists from the “nones” — and what I didn’t realize at first.

Atheists haven’t just checked out of organized religion. (Indeed, we may not have.) We haven’t just rejected belief in God. (Though, obviously, that’s the starting point.) Where atheism becomes a definite stance rather than a lack of direction, a positive belief and not just a negative one, is in our understanding that, without a higher power, we need human power to change the world.

I want to be clear: There are clergy members and congregations all across this country working to do good, not waiting for God to answer their prayers or assuming that God meant for the globe to get hotter. You don’t have to be an atheist to conduct yourself as if people are responsible for the world they live in — you just have to act like an atheist, by taking matters into your own hands.

Countless good people of faith do just that. But one thing they can’t do as well as atheists is push back against the outsize cultural and political power of religion itself.

That power is crushing some of our most vulnerable citizens. And I don’t mean my fellow atheists. Atheists, it’s true, are subject to discrimination and scapegoating; somehow we’re to blame for moral chaos, mass shootings and whatever the “trans cult” is. Yes, we are technically barred from serving as jurors in the state of Maryland or joining a Boy Scout troop anywhere, but we do not, as a group, suffer anything like the prejudice that, say, LGBTQ+ people face. It’s not even close.

Peel back the layers of discrimination against LGBTQ+ people, though, and you find religion. Peel back the layers of control over women’s bodies — from dress codes that punish girls for male desire all the way to the Supreme Court striking down Roe v. Wade — and you find religion. Often, there isn’t much peeling to do. According to the bill itself, Missouri’s total abortion ban was created “in recognition that Almighty God is the author of life.” Say what, now?

Peel back the layers of abstinence-only or marriage-centered or anti-homosexual sex education and you find religion. “Don’t say gay” laws, laws denying trans kids medical care, school-library book bans and even efforts to suppress the teaching of inconvenient historical facts — motivated by religion.

And when religion loses a fight and progress wins instead? Religion then claims it’s not subject to the resulting laws. “Religious belief” is — more and more, at the state and federal levels — a way to sidestep advances the country makes in civil rights, human rights and public health.

In 45 states and D.C., parents can get religious exemptions from laws that require schoolchildren to be vaccinated. Seven states allow pharmacists to refuse to fill contraceptive prescriptions because of their religious beliefs. Every business with a federal contract has to comply with federal nondiscrimination rules — unless it’s a religious organization. Every employer that provides health insurance has to comply with the Affordable Care Act’s contraceptive mandate — unless it’s, say, a craft supply store with Christian owners.

Case by case, law by law, our country’s commitment to the first right enumerated in our Bill of Rights — “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion” — is faltering. The Supreme Court has ruled that the citizens of Maine have to pay for parochial school, that a high school football coach should be free to lead a prayer on the 50-yard line, that a potential wedding website designer can reject potential same-sex clients. This past summer, Oklahoma approved the nation’s first publicly funded religious school. This fall, Texas began allowing schools to employ clergy members in place of guidance counselors.

You don’t have to be an atheist to worry about the structural integrity of Thomas Jefferson’s “wall of separation between Church & State.” You don’t have to be an atheist to think that religion should not shape public policy or that believers should have to follow the laws that everyone else does. You don’t have to be an atheist to see that Christian nationalists are using “religious liberty” to perpetuate much of the discrimination Americans suffer today.

But atheists can do one thing about the country’s drift into theocracy that our religious neighbors won’t: We can tell people we don’t believe in God. The more people who do that, the more we normalize atheism in America, the easier it will be — for both politicians and the general public — to usher religion back out of our laws.

Okay, but should you say you’re an atheist even if you believe in “God” as the power of nature or something like that?

Yes. It does no one any favors — not the country, not your neighbors — to say you believe in God metaphorically when there are plenty of people out there who literally believe that God is looking down from heaven deciding which of us to cast into hell.

In fact, when certain believers wield enough political power to turn their God’s presumed preferences into law, I would say it’s dangerous to claim you believe in “God” when what you actually believe in is awe or wonder. (Your “God is love” only lends validity and power to their “God hates gays.”)

So ask yourself: Do I think a supernatural being is in charge of the universe?

If you answer “no,” you’re an atheist. That’s it — you’re done.

But if you go further: You’ll be doing something good for your country.

When I started raising my kids as atheists, I wasn’t particularly honest with the rest of the world. I wasn’t everybody’s mom, right? Plus, I had to get along with other people. Young parents need community, and I was afraid to risk alienating new parent friends by being honest about being — looks both ways, lowers voice — an atheist.

But, in addition to making me be honest inside our home, my children pushed me to start being honest on the outside. In part, I wanted to set an example for them, and in part, I wanted to help change the world they would face.

It shouldn’t be hard to say you don’t believe in God. It shouldn’t be shocking or shameful. I know that I’m moral and respectful and friendly. And the more I say to people that I’m an atheist — me, the mom who taught the kindergarten class about baking with yeast and brought the killer cupcakes to the bake sale — the more people will stop assuming that being an atheist means being … a serial killer.

And then? The more I say I’m an atheist, the more other people will feel comfortable calling themselves atheists. And the stigma will gradually dissolve.

Can you imagine? If we all knew how many of us there are?

It would give everyone permission to be honest with their kids and their friends, to grapple with big questions without having to hold on to beliefs they never embraced.

And it would take away permission, too. Permission to pass laws (or grant exemptions to laws) based on the presumed desires of a fictional creation. Permission to be cruel to fellow human beings based on Bible verses. Permission to eschew political action in favor of “thoughts and prayers.”

I understand that, to many people, this might sound difficult or risky. It took me years to declare myself an atheist, and I was raised Reform Jewish, I live in the Northeast, I’m White, I work at home, and my family and friends are a liberal bunch. The stakes were low for me. For some, I fully concede, the stakes are too high.

If you think you’d lose your job or put your children at risk of harassment for declaring your atheism, you get a pass. If you would be risking physical harm, don’t speak out. If you’re an atheist running for school board somewhere that book bans are on the agenda, then feel free to keep it quiet, and God bless.

But for everyone else who doesn’t believe in God and hasn’t said so? Consider that your honesty will allow others to be honest, and that your reticence encourages others to keep quiet. Consider that the longer everyone keeps quiet, the longer religion has political and cultural license to hurt people. Consider that the United States — to survive as a secular democracy — needs you now more than ever.

And the next time you find yourself tempted to pretend that you believe in God? Tell the truth instead.

[stephenjaymorrisblog]

If You Have No Imagination, You Can’t

Imagine

Stephen Jay Morris

3/15/2024

©Scientific Morality

            The late John Lennon was one of many voices of a generation, though many of those voices didn’t want the job. I think I wrote about this song some time ago. Well, recently, I saw a video posted by a Catholic bishop, denouncing the song, “Imagine,” by John Lennon. The name of the video is, “Why I hate the song, Imagine.” Hate, you say? Now that is a pretty strong word for a bishop of the Church. He initially gave faint praise to John Lennon and then proceeded to criticize the song, reciting it line by line, and explaining how each one was inspiring a rebellion of God, which is a sin.  He declared the song a “secular anthem.”

Okay, Boomer! But it’s not. What it is, is a wishful fantasy about the uniting of humanity. Can you imagine if he had written a line like, “Imagine no priests molesting little boys?” In that case, the bishop would have a reason to complain.

            John Lennon was the voice of a generation whether he wanted to be or not. This issue is similar to the Taylor Swift controversy today. In the early 70’s, the government, oil companies, and protestant churches were shitting bricks over John Lennon. So, like MLK, they spied on him and tried to extradite him from the USA.

            I remember the hatred and anger that spewed over this song in 1971. I was listening to a Top 40’s station when—I forget who the disk-jockey was—after playing the song, the guy went on a tirade about how John was a hypocrite because he was rich. It seems American conservatives have this misconception that, if you have leftist views, you must take a vow of poverty. Wrong! I’d rather be among rich communists that piss poor conservatives. So, am I to believe that if you are a conservative, you must be rich, otherwise you can’t be one? The anfractuous folly of the political right is endless.

            The song is a soft, wistful ballad that seems to have been written from a spiritual state of mind. Lyrically, it is suggesting the listener consider the propositions; ruminate over them. This type of fancible idealism started in the late 50’s to the mid 60’s.  The pacifist movement merged with the folk music era. Afterward came the Flower Children with their visions of world peace, and then the New Age movement in the 70’s. Lennon wanted to captivate the Boomer generation with this ballad, and he did.

Conservatives are afraid of artistic influence over the younger generations, for they are proponents of masculinity. Anything sensitive targets their accusations of inofficiousness to the Christian state. Femininity is evil and masculinity is godly.

John Lennon offered a great and novel proposition when he wrote:

Imagine there's no heaven.

It's easy if you try.

No hell below us

Above us only sky.

Imagine all the people living for today!

A well-said proposition. Most adherents to the three main religions look forward to death. They feel the earth is Satan’s property and that Heaven will be like Disney World. Suckers! Why not live for now?

Now for the political portion of the piece:

Imagine there's no countries.

It isn't hard to do.

Nothing to kill or die for

And no religion, too.

Imagine all the people living life in peace.

Yeah, the conservatives are always preaching about small government. And yet if you say “do away with it” they lose their lunch. Good introduction for newbies to anarchism.

Now the line that pissed off conservatives:

Imagine no possessions.

I wonder if you can?

No need for greed or hunger.

A brotherhood of man.

Imagine all the people sharing all the world.

You may say I'm a dreamer.

But I'm not the only one.

I hope someday you’ll join us,

And the world will be as one.

Oh, gee! How fucking blasphemous!

So, in my confabulatory take of the religious shit, there are no such things as good and evil. God floods the earth and Satan talks about world peace. Forget about it!

This song is fantastic and if you don’t like it, fuck you! And fuck your material property’ too!

[personal-blog243]

The struggle of being a more “extroverted” night owl raised by “introverted” morning people…

I know this is random but this is just a thought I had and I need to complain for a bit. I still hate that growing up my parents would never do ANYTHING in the evenings. My parents pretty much only do anything remotely “fun” on Fridays, and even then it would usually just be staying in with a rented movie or playing a boring game if anything. My parents would rarely if ever let me do anything on Saturday evenings because we had to wake up early to go to church the next morning 🙄. You can forget about doing anything on a school night. Even when we did things on Fridays sometimes my parents would spend most of the time complaining about how late it was by 7:30pm and we still couldn’t stay up later on Fridays even because Saturday is when we all had to do lots of chores and run lots of errands. Rise and shine gotta love that boomer Protestant work ethic! 🙄 my parents can’t go to a restaurant to eat because they spend the whole time bitching and whining and complaining about how they eat too much and how they think they are fat or how late it is. It’s just so hard to have fun and get them out and be social with them. I just associate them with work and waking up early and exhaustion.

Don’t get me wrong I was allowed to have sleepovers as a child on the weekends I’m just saying that generally speaking it sucks when you are an energetic kid who wants to do fun things but your parents are too old and tired to want to do anything. Even recently my parents refused to watch the superbowl with me. All I’m saying is that it sucks remembering being at home and wanting to sleep in but you can’t because your parents have a different circadian rhythm than you. My mom always encouraged me to be social as a kid, but it was hard because social activities never seemed to line up with her schedule. It really set me back socially.

Sorry this is just random blogging that I had to get off my chest about some childhood memories. Does anyone else relate to being a night owl raised by morning people?

For the record I fully understand that raising children is tiring and I don’t mean to sound unsympathetic to that.

[pashterlengkap]

Preacher tells congregants to cut ties with LGBTQ+ children while shouting slurs

Preacher Aaron Thompson of the Verity Baptist Church in Vancouver, Washington told his followers to cut ties with any LGBTQ+ members of their families while using slurs from the pulpit. “The gratuitous use of the f-word is going to be used in this sermon,” Thompson said in a sermon posted to Facebook that was posted by writer Hemant Mehta to Twitter. “The f-word I’m talking about is fa***t or f*g, ok?” --- Related Stories Hate pastor claims teachers are giving lessons on sodomy & allowing students to identify as cats Students identifying as dogs? Isn’t lying a sin? --- He claimed that Methodists are “sending people to hell” for accepting LGBTQ+ people. The United Methodist Church does not allow same-sex marriages or LGBTQ+ people to be ordained. Get the Daily Brief The news you care about, reported on by the people who care about you. “Any church that flies a rainbow flag outside of their building is not a real church, folks,” Thompson claimed. “And if there’s a bunch of fa***ts there, then there’s a bunch of molesters there because they’re all pedophiles.” He then brought up a hypothetical person who might not like what he was saying. “But my cousin, they’re really nice and they’re really sweet and they’re really cute and they’re so funny,” he said sarcastically. “You don’t know what they’re doing behind closed doors! Do you think they’re going to tell you the vile and wicked and beastlike things that they’re doing?” he said. “So even people that have like sisters or brothers or parents – God forbid – or any of this – Look, you know, respect your parents, honor your parents, but if they’re a fa***t, then have nothing to do with them!” Thompson said. “If they’re your kid, have nothing to do with them! If it’s your cousin, your best friend from high school, whatever!” “I would cut ties with any kid that was a f*g. My own kid, any kid. I don’t want to have anything to do with them.” Thompson then used the word “fa***t” repeatedly because “there’s no YouTube channel to get nuked.” He then accused the Southern Poverty Law Center – which follows extremists – of being “tied to the Jews somehow.” Christian hate-preacher Aaron Thompson delivered an 80-minute rant against LGBTQ people. Here's a short compilation of his vile statements. (I wore out my bleep button.) pic.twitter.com/tiW6jgUrax— Hemant Mehta (@hemantmehta) July 23, 2023 Verity Baptist Church is tied to the Sure Foundation Baptist Church in Spokane, Washington, which is part of the New Independent Fundamental Baptist (New IFB) movement, an extreme branch of Christianity with churches across the country. Thompson has preached at Sure Foundation Baptist Church in the past, including a sermon where he explained why he likes the word “fa***t”: the word “fa***t” just sounds nice to him, and he doesn’t believe his target audience will understand fancy words like “sodomite.” “And so what the inspired word is in this book is the right word, we shouldn’t be ashamed of it,” he said. “You’re like, ‘Well what about fa***t, you say fa***t, you say fa***t,’” he said. “It’s like yeah but when you say sodomite, most of the time people don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s not like everyone else there outside reads the Bible. It’s not like a real popular word.” “You can say homosexual, but it doesn’t have the negative connotation that it should have,” he complained. “Because the negative connotation that it should have is that they’re a bunch of freaks and that God pronounces the death penalty upon them in Leviticus 20:13.” “And I’m not gonna shy away from anything that the Bible says.” Christian hate-preacher Aaron Thompson says every word in the Bible matters. But anti-LGBTQ slurs, which are not in the Bible, are okay to use because they just sound better. pic.twitter.com/wk5kGVMhj9— Hemant Mehta (@hemantmehta) September 15, 2022 http://dlvr.it/Ssh6RB

[j-r-on-air]

WE ARE GETTING OLDER BUT LEARNING SO MUCH ABOUT EVERYONE IN LIFE

When you wake up and feel as if everything is one big pattern and you are just getting older.

I am having one of those days today, I woke up and realized everything is just one big routine. I wake up, make sure my children are awake, make sure they have lunches, give them something to eat and send them on their way to school. Then I make the big decision to figure out what am I going to do today. Along with adding this blog to my routine. For the past few days I have been growing my face hair. The big question is when should I cut it? I don't have a full-time job, don't need to look good for anyone right now. I am just going to let it grow. Maybe when you are in your 30s that is the time to grow facial hair. It just feels right you know?

I heard somewhere that depending on how old you are you experience time faster and or slower. What I consider a fast day you might consider a relatively slow day. It all depends on what part of the life circle you are on. Most people in their 20s feel as if life is moving slowly. Then you have people like me in our 30s who feel as if life is going by way too fast, and there is nothing you can do about it. Who knows, I speculate a lot of my observations. I am the type of person that loves to question anything and everything. I keep the questions to myself. I don't like making people feel bad, and I also worry about what people think of me to a certain degree. I have learned that it should not matter what anyone thinks of me. But that way of feeling and thinking is easier said than done. My best friend Justin tells me he does not care what the world thinks of him. He enjoys his life the way he enjoys it. I can't do that. Then I have to remind myself that he has lived quite the life for a African-American Canadian. He has faced racist comments and he has been through it all. I would not want to know what that is like. But because of that. Because I am not Justin I will never understand what he has experienced. We all come from different parts of life.

Back to getting older, I think the older we get the more we can have a rough idea on the experiences our friends and family have been through. I find the older I get the more I actually enjoy hanging out with my family. Even though we all grew up in the same household, we still have different views on life and how it should be lived. My sister sometimes goes to church randomly, I am not a church goer myself, but I support anyone who does go to church. I don't want to get into why I don't go to church but I will tell you, it was because I was bullied in Sunday school. That will have to be another story for another Blog. I think God is real, but I think God is the universe. And I will leave it at that. My sister and I are becoming good friends as we get older in life. We get to look into each other's lives and see what the other person goes through, see what the other person has been through. So as I get older, I may complain more. But it's because I am making more observations. So let's continue to get older together and experience life together. Thank you for checking out my blog today. This is becoming quite the fun daily routine. I know at some point I will miss days coming up, but I almost look at this as a newspaper but I am the author. Remember newspapers? Those were the good old days.

[bladehyme]

Big Old Softie (Fenrana x Nash)

The senior cowboy and the automaton had left to do a shopping adventure and the elderly woman was taking a nap on a nearby sofa. They had returned from their operation at the dilapidated elementary school and it had been a waste of time and resources. In Fenrana’s eyes at least, they had discovered some suspects unspoiled, still children fortunately, however they had to battle their way through the true victims, the children turned into soldiers prematurely. The abuse of science and magic was infuriating and what was pissing the inspector off more than anything else, was the fact that something this large had gone unnoticed by the police of Vorrak’k. Writing these reports were proving to be more asinine than the mock ones they had to fill out back in university.

“Ya good?” Nash, the deputy cowboy, asked, seeing Fen looking so tense. Fenrana shook their head not looking at the half orc, so he suggested trying to be helpful, “I can leave if you’d like. I know some people like being alone with their thoughts when things are going their way.”

“That’s genuinely the last thing I need,” Fenrana corrects, gently grabbing Nash’s shoulder, keeping him closer. Realizing the gesture the inspector releases the half orc and says blushing, “My thoughts aren’t the best when I’m alone.”

“Okay good,” Nash sighed relieved, “I’m the same way.”

“Really?” Fenrana asked surprised, “You’ve probably been the most level headed other than the automaton.”

“I’m a firm believer of faking it till you make it,” Nash confessed, “It’s much easier to fake confidence when you’re the biggest guy in the room.”

“That doesn’t help me,” Fenrana grumbled looking themself over, “I guess I got the shallow end of the gene pool in that regard.”

“Trust me, it’s more trouble than it’s worth,” Nash replied, “It makes people assume things, I’d much rather be able to talk my way out of a fight than constantly have people try and fight me.”

“But you certainly hold people's respect much easier than just holding a title,” The inspector counter complained, “Though with how we are complaining it sounds like Boston should be our perfect middle ground.”

“We are unbelievably doomed if Boston is the model citizen,” Nash snorted, before both of them laughed hard, it was the first time they had laughed during this case. They forgot that the halfling barbarian was asleep in the room with them, luckily she didn’t awaken. After they had their laugh. Nash looked to Fenrana and said, “You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.”

“That came out of nowhere,” Fen deflected, not wanting to have this conversation, the looked down to the hologram coming out of their sim chip, “If you don’t mind I have to file-”

“I do mind,” Nash snapped, placing his hand over the sim chip, turning off the hologram. The orcs' large chiseled body intimidating the inspector into a blushing silence. The barbarian, seemingly unaware, continued, “You’ve been going at this job nonstop since it started, and not once have you ever shown confidence in your skill, or in any of ours for that matter.”

“Excuse me?!” Fenrana snapped trying to push the deputy cowboy’s hand away, seeing it having no effect and continued their verbal defense “I am dealing with backwaters authorities and objectives I was not trained for mind you! And it’s not like I was given Vorrak’k finest to work with.”

“I don’t live here! I arrived here less than twelve hours before the church was attacked!” Nash defended, “We drove almost seven hours to get Ric to safety and we all nearly died!”

“I-” the inspector stopped, they were unaware of that circumstance, they broke eye contact with Nash and their eyes slowly drifted down the stocky build. Nash’s form began to make Fenranas cheeks. They looked away, Nash releasing Fenrana’s arm. They get back to their work, filing paperwork. To change the subject and thought of a conversation they and Boston had had previously about coping skills for the job. Nash had to excuse himself to the bathroom for a call, didn’t say who it was when he got back but he certainly seemed concerned. To help, Fenrana pulled out their lute and began to play a song. They ask the barbarian a question why they fingers continued their work, “Has Jones told you about the ways to handle this line of work?”

“Nope,” Nash replied sitting onto the bed, trying to get as comfortable as he can on the chair, that was his parole officer, someone he had completely forgotten about, considering he had only been out for less than a week, he was surprised it took so long for them to contact him, considering he left the country. It was on work, but he didn’t contact them before they left the country of Ith’ Taros. Nash looked over to Fenrana curious, “Jones only hired me earlier this week, did you know him from before?”

“Nope.”

“Then when did he teach you about the coping techniques of being a cowboy?” Nash asked, confused, thinking of when those two were alone together or when he heard Boston explain the rules of being a bounty hunter.

“Right after we lost Danyel,” Fenrana blushed, looking away from Nash, thinking about the events that had happened. It was only a few hours ago, Fen still ached a bit, but was able to clean up via magic. They adjusted themself, like they feared, sitting was proving to be difficult. The inspector cleared their throat and said, “He gave me a few options, but most of them are… obscene.”

“That tracks for Boston,” Nash grumbles, sitting up his face close to Fenrana’s. Looking at them, he began to see their blushing expression. He asked, “Um, was it something you experienced with him?”

“That would be ridiculous!” Fenrana blushed, standing up, trying to put as much space between themself and the half orc. They took a few moments to compose themself and turned to the deputy cowboy, “He offered me a cigarette and I declined that’s all that happened.”

“I don’t doubt-”

“Do you think I’d stoop to such crass behaviors because that self-righteous, narcissistic, criminal?” Fenrana snapped feeling their face grow hot once again, thinking about your encounter with Jones. Completely losing themselves to irrational thoughts the continued this manic display, “I bet you’re the same, wanting to take advantage of me with your large physic-”

“Hold your horses Fen,” Nash said standing up putting his hands on the inspectors shoulders, trying to calm them down. As the cowboy did, he was surprised when he heard a soft sigh escape from Fenrana’s lips. Nash paused before releasing them and asked, “I think you need some rest Fen, you’re acting strange.”

“Would you stay with me?” Fenrana asked Nash, they made eye contact with them, openly blushing they confessed, “I… I like having you around.”

“Sure,” Nash replied head tilted, confused by what was going on, but wanting to be supportive as best he could. He sat awkwardly next to the inspector, not knowing what would set them off. He wanted to be a shoulder for them to cry on. Fen did put themself on Nash’s tone shoulder. When the barbarian heard them moan a third time he had to ask, “Do you need something Fen? You’re acting strange.”

“I’m tired Nash,” they confessed, wiping away a tear, their last wall crumbling, “I… I don’t know what to do.”

“Did whatever you and Boston do help calm you down?” Nash asked, feeling his own face going hot. He glanced over to Fenrana and could see their face was almost as red as a strawberry. Knowing that crafty bastard, he probably got what he wanted and made it seem like it was the inspector's idea. Nash didn’t want to do that, but it was clear that the Fen needed something.

“It definitely did something,” Fenrana confessed before Nash could ask a follow up question. They looked up at the ork and stammered, as if each word was harder than the last, “Have you ever… engaged in explicit activities with a coworker?”

“Not recently, no.”

“Would you…” Fen asked their hand slowly going up Nash’s thigh toward his groin, the orcs face blushing hot now like the inspector's face was. Fenrana looked at Nash and was able to muster,“Would you like to?”

Before Fen could finish playing with Nash’s covered weapon the orc moved with such speed and skill the next thing Fenrana knew they were on their back and the barbarian was pleasing their lower half. They didn’t even feel either pants or underwear slip past their knees; they were just now naked from the waist down. The orc was working overtime, pleasing the inspector with his mouth. Nash used his massive hands to pull Fenrana closer so he could be more through with his tongue.

“Fuck Nash,” the ambassador gasped feeling their legs tingle with pleasure. They began to play and pull on the mop of hair Nash guiding Nash’s movements, Fenrana confessed, “I wanted to please you.”

“Don’t worry,” He smiled, his brown eyes piercing through the inspectors. The ork kissed where he had just been pleasing softly before growling into them, “You will have your chance to prove your worth to me in a moment.”

Fenrana couldn’t hide the moan of curious delight and the deputy cowboy went back to his work. Either Nash is incredible at this or Fenrana was still sensitive after what happened only a few hours prior. Either way the inspector began to feel their toes curl and release. Nash swallowed their fluids with a smile; Fenrana breathed through moans, and they weren’t complaining, but seeing the orcs smile made them blush even more than they already were. Part of them thinking they would never need to wear blush again at this rate.

“Do you want your turn?” Nash asked dropping his mesh shorts, his length now out for the inspector to see. Their jaw dropped, it was longer than the holy mans, but surprisingly not as thick; not that the inspector was going to complain. The hungry, but slowly, still recovering from the orcs work, Fenrana made their way over to the end of the bed and deepthroat Nash’s member. The cowboy moaned in delight and surprise, “Geez Fenrana, if I’d know this was your skill level, I’d have asked for tips.”

That compliment gave the inspector a confidence boost they didn’t know they needed. They continued whipping cream wanting to prove that they were as skilled as they tried to prove to the senior cowboy. Not that it was necessary to prove it, the inspector doubted this would be a conversation between the two cowboys. Fenrana swallowed another inch of Nash’s tool bringing themselves back to the objective at hand, getting their brains fucked out. The cowboy seemed to get the memo and began his own battle against Fenrans' throat. Who was loving this primal force. They felt their own place of pleasure began to grow hot once again, the only being used in such a manner. They felt their makeup being ruined as they gagged on this barbarians member, but right now they couldn’t give less of a damn.

“Holy fuck Fen,” Nash growled, he couldn’t decide if the inspectors moans were sexier than the sounds of his dick made hitting the back of their throat. He was reaching a breaking point however and wasn’t ready to be done with this ‘team building exercise’. He begrudgingly let his shaft have one satisfying pop from the inspectors lips before he looked deep into Fenranas eyes and growled, “I’m going to break you in half now.”

“Please,” The inspector begged, laying on their back, exposing themself to Nash. Nash looked over them with a hunger that nearly made Fenranas toes curl again. Nash then with a softness that surprised Fenrara, the orc began to remove the inspector's shirt, button by button. Fenrana couldn’t help but tease, “Aren’t you going to break all my buttons with a display of strength?”

“And ruin your shirt? I’m not paying for you to get a new one,” Nash replied, undoing the last button. Opening the shirt Nash began to slowly caress Fenrana’s exposed chest, giving his stamina some time to recover. He slowly traced around Fenrana’s nipples before slowly pinching one and smiling, “But I will buy you an ice pack for your cute ass when I’m done.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Fenrana grumbled, but moaned as they felt their nippled being played with. They began to play with themself with this new stimulation. After what seems like an eternity they finally plea, “Give it to me Nashville Fenegan-Thompson. Give me your hard throbbing cock.”

Nash isn’t one to refuse a request, but he was a bit nervous, he wasn’t the most experienced in this, but the tension in his shaft had a mind of its own. He found himself spitting in his hand to make sure he was lubed enough to slip deep into Fenrana’s hungry hole. They gasped in tandem both in bliss from the sensation. There was a pause between the two, both getting situated, their inexperience would have been present if anyone was watching. They regain eye contact, both blushing at the situation. Nash began thrust, seeing if this bliss was fleeting, much to both of their delight, it wasn’t.

“Fuck Nash,” Fenrana muttered between moans. This was very different from what happened with Jones. The senior cowboy was carnal, raw, and sloppy. The orc was surprisingly more gentle and through. Maybe it was just circumstance. But before the inspector could continue the compare and contrast between the two, Nash reached a new spot with that thrust, Fenrana gasped and blurted without composure, “Fuck, cock is fantastic.”

“You feel amazing too.” Nash panted trying to control his thrusts, not wanting to rip anything, but also wanting to keep having this feeling for as long as possible. His fingers around and tugging Fenrana’s nipple seemed to make them tighter whenever it was tugged, and Nash nearly blew his load every time they got tighter. Fen began to play with themself with their free hand, the other playing with the neglected nipple. Until finally the orc was finally at his breaking point:

“Where do you want my load?”

“Wha-” Fen gasped the question, catching them off guard. The surprise caused them to release their own fluids. They gasped, feeling their body tingling completely. Nash had to hold his breath not to release his own load. He longingly looked to the inspector for direction. After their legs regained some feeling they nodded pleading, “Inside. please Nash, fill me with your hot. sticky. cum.”

The orc lost his cool and his load as he released and continued to trust, making sure every part of their insides was dripping with his cum. The sensation of being filled in such a manner made the inspector release again, the rush of pleasure was mind melting.

“Fuck,” A voice behind the two of them panted, the pair, sweaty, sticky and tired looked behind them, only to see Rimita awake and pleasing herself. Before the two could say a word, the halfling readjusted her leather suit and said, “I’ll go in the other room, the two of you clean up. But if you decide to have another round, call me. That looked like fun.”

“Rimita!” Fenrana blushed, sitting up trying to get an explanation from the spicy golden girl, but she was already gone. The pair looked at each other, now red in the face from embarrassment as well. The inspector looked around the bed and asked, “If you’d like you can lay down next to me, I could use a cuddle buddy while doing this paperwork.”

“Sure.” Nash nodded, pulling his softened meat out of Fenrana, who disappointedly moaned, but knew it had to be done. The pair of awkward rookies spent the next few hours together, warming each other from the cold realities of the world.

Thanks for coming by and reading! If you'd like to watch the source material: Check them out live on twitch.tv/adventures_and_initiative on Wednesdays at 21:30 East Coast. or check out their Youtube Playlist: https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLqrIedq0bXtHdna_n1ys7NDHKE1VXe-UJ 

[arminsleftnut]

hi i deleted the fucking ask on accident so:

@ikiraobsessed i’m SO sorry here’s your request, i hope this is what you wanted <3

CONTENT WARNING: dark content (minors if u interact i will call ur fucking parents), sacrilege, mentions of religion, implied yandere themes, yagami light x fem!reader, god complex & sadism (light being... himself), mentions of death/death of an older sister and reader’s parents (it’s light), toxic relationship, light is manipulative as fuck, kira worshipper reader, naïve/virgin reader, sub!reader, fear play, light is fucking insane, mishandling of virginity (idk how to explain that light is just a mistake), rough sex, oral (fem receiving), overstimulation, choking /breath play, reader does not have a safe word (be responsible kids), unprotected sex, breeding kink, god kink, overstimulation, masochism, praise

daphne — a beautiful nymph that caught the attention of the

god apollo, and could not escape him in the end.

the soft thrum of rain against the outside walls was, in many ways, bittersweet. the sound of rain was soothing, nurturing; it made you feel free, renewed, like a sapling unfurling from fresh, damp soil. but now? now it only reminded you that you were trapped. only a few walls separated you and the outside storm, yet it felt like a chasm— one you didn’t dare try to cross. there was no anchor for you anymore, no wings to spread nor roots to unfurl. you were bound here, to him.

the room you were in was dim, lit only by the hallway light and the occasional bright flash of lightning outside. it was an eerie sort of sight; it reminded you of the Catholic Church you had once attended with your parents, and then had gone there after, alone, to find answers for the death of your sister. you had pleaded on your knees, rosary in hand, begging to just understand.

your older sister was a saint. she’d never spoken a harsh word to anyone, not even you, even in the darkest pits of her anger. not even to your parents, who for all their regurgitated sermons on the kindness of god, seemed to have no answers for you when you asked why he’d taken your sister away. they hadn’t even cried. your father had attended confession one last time, and they had never gone back. you were left to search for answers alone. you found none, and you found no god in the empty pews or hollow statues of mary.

but you had found him here. in the dark bedroom within a pretty suburban home, you’d found god, and as he towered over you, his large form encasing you against the bed, you were terrified.

how could you not be? light was— something else entirely. he had offered you answers, and when he’d punished your parents for the crimes he knew they’d inevitably commit, he’d left you no room to question his power. he’d done so much for you, for the world, how could he be anything but a god?

you thought, perhaps, you ought to be on your knees before him; you’d knelt so readily when you’d first met him, it was strange that he hadn’t asked you to do so again. no, he had a different form of worship for you, he’d said. and as you lay there, trembling in the cage of his arms, a traitorous part of you wondered if he’d damned you instead.

“you’re shaking.” light’s observation was smooth, flippant, and there was a hint of a smile in his voice that made your insides twist; whether that was good or bad, you didn’t know. it did not feel kind, but gods never were, you supposed.

you opened your mouth, wishing you had an answer and all at once realizing it was likely for the best that you didn’t. there was no answer you could give him that wouldn’t hurt him. he had done so much for you, he was a hero, how could you tell him that you feared him still?

for better or worse, you did not have to speak at all. light’s hand was deceptively gentle when he wrapped it around your throat, his long fingers digging lightly into the sides of the fragile flesh; not hard enough to stop you from breathing, but still, you froze beneath him. he smiled, and it was both beautiful and terrifying.

“do you think I’d hurt you?” there was no malice in the question that you could hear, only what sounded like genuine curiosity. still, you didn’t move. you didn’t want to hurt him, anger him— his fingers tightened just so. “answer me.”

slowly, you nodded.

surprisingly, there was no hints of anger twisting his expression, no hurt contorting his lovely face. you realized you hadn’t upset him, and it was only then did your heart start beating again. you didn’t even notice that he was still grinning.

“oh, sweet girl,” he cooed, his thumb brushing the underside of your jaw in a tender gesture that made you tremble even more, “how could you think that? you’ve given me so much.”

you have. you’ve given him everything. your time, your mind, your heart. your body was all that was left, and as much as you didn’t want to be, you were petrified of giving him that as well.

but he didn’t take this time. he gave instead.

“this isn’t a punishment, love.” his words were gentle against your lips, and despite his reassurance, you weren’t sure what he was referring to— the way he was touching you, or the soulless bodies of your parents only a few houses down. they were deplorable, greedy, they were going to take you from him. “i don’t punish innocence. you know that. i reward it.”

you did know that; and when his head was between your legs, his tongue flattened against your swollen clit, it felt like a reward. he devoured you wholly, as he’d always done, and you adored it. he let you tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging him closer and holding him to your weeping cunt as you rocked desperately against his face. it was too much too much too much, and when he forced your legs back, gripping the soft flesh of your thighs hard enough to bruise as he forced you to cum on his tongue yet again , you didn’t dare complain— not even as tears pricked your eyes and your entire body trembled.

part of you still wondered, somewhere in the back of your hazed mind, if he actually did mean to punish you. the aching burn between your legs when he’d forced his cock inside you, pushing past any resistance with ease, it was too big, god it was too big, made you sure you must’ve displeased him somehow. but the groan that left him when he was fully seated inside you was nothing short of divine, reminding you of his promise. he wouldn’t hurt you, you reminded yourself through a haze of tears as he fucked into you, so this must not be pain.

it was your own cries that echoed throughout the room, shrieks and sharp squeals drowning out the rumble of thunder outside. he was unforgiving as he abused your pretty cunt, his mouth against your ear, spilling rough praises of how good you were, how proud he was of you, how well you were taking him, and his tongue caught each tear that fell down your cheek. he promised to give you everything, reward you with his children, because you’d given him so much, you deserved the privilege.

you could say nothing, only able to plead for something you couldn’t decipher as you came around him, your vision turning white as he followed soon after, emptying himself inside you, giving you everything he promised.

it was only when the daze lifted and you lay there, the stickiness of his cum trickling out of you and staining your inner thighs, that you realized he meant to keep you rooted here, immortalized in his image. a reward. a blessing.

you thought it might’ve been a curse instead.

[holylulusworld]

Seasons in the sun

This is my entry for @little-diable​’s Four Seasons Challenge: 1. Spring: Dean Winchester. 2. Summer: outbreak of an apocalypse 3. Autumn: thunderstorm 4. Winter: Destruction

Summary: Dean and you finally settled for a peaceful life when the unthinkable happens. An apocalypse devasting half of the planet.

Pairing: Endverse!Dean x Wife!Reader

Characters: Sam Winchester, Claire Novak

Warnings: angst, language, dystopian world, mentions of death, violence, blood, sadness, zombie apocalypse, fluff

A/N: I used the seasons in more than one way. Spring is the old life with Dean. In summer the apocalypse happens. In Autumn a thunderstorm is coming. And winter brings more destruction.

Words: 3,2 k

Divider by @firefly-graphics

March 21st, 2020

Spring came earlier this year. For many reasons. 

After years of hunting and struggling to survive, Dean and you finally settled down. You got a nice house, a white picket fence, and even talked about having children one day. Dean and you couldn’t be happier.

You got married half a year ago. Only your best friends and Sam were by your side. It was a nice ceremony at a small church. Nothing special. Nothing wild. Just you and the man you love promising to give your all to each other.

“Sweetheart, I got another paycheck,” Dean waltzes into the living room. A big grin on his face. “We are going to eat like rich people tonight.” 

“Dean,” you giggle at his playful mood but shake your head no. “I already cooked, babe. How about we spare the money and buy nice things for our house.”

“Like that comfy armchair I always dreamed of?” he teases. “You know the kind of armchair offering space for the both of us. We could cuddle in front of the fireplace and do stuff.”

“Do stuff,” you pat his chest. “Don’t hurt yourself, Mr. Winchester. You can get cuddles without that armchair. Just name the time and the place,” his green eyes sparkle when your hand slides down his chest. 

“Here and now, Mrs. Winchester,” your husband smirks. “I will cuddle you aggressively.” 

“Here and now, it is…” you get thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, squealing as he carries you upstairs. “Dean, let me down! Dean!”

“No way, Y/N. I will never let you down…never…”

June 15th, 2020

Summer brings unbearable heat, new neighbors, and a sexy view. 

While Dean works on his car, upper body bare, and too-tight blue jeans on his hips, you sip on a drink, watching him stick his ass out, shaking it to yet another song.

“Mr. Winchester, you look hot under the hood of your car,” you tease.

“What did you say, Mrs. Winchester?” he looks up from under the hood. “I guess you need my attention.” Your eyes roam his sweaty chest as he suddenly turns his attention toward you, not his car. You can already see the hunger in his eyes and fear, the neighbors will complain once again. “Dean! NO!”

He drops the tool in his hand to run toward your chair, making you giggle as you jump up to go for a run. “I’m going to catch you, sweetheart…”

“No! The neighbors! Dean!” 

After a short race, Dean tackles you. Both of you end up on the grass. “Gotcha, babe.” He kisses you softly. “I got the week off. What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know,” as you run your fingers through his sweaty hair you try to think about anything but the dirty images coming to your mind. “Something dirty…or sweet.”

“We can do both,” Dean kisses you again, moaning as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Yeah, I will go for both.”

July 2nd, 2020

June barely turned into July when bad news cloud your sky…

“Dean, why is there a crowbar in your hands?” you ask when Dean enters your bedroom. “Baby?”

“Did you hear the news today?” you look up at your husband, frowning as he looks scared and confused. He frowns deeply as he checks yet another message from his brother. “Sammy said he will come around. Something is wrong…terribly wrong.” 

“What do you mean?” your heart starts to race as Dean uses the crowbar in his hands to remove the loose deck boards to get your hunting equipment out. You decided to never hunt again but kept all your weapons. Better safe than sorry... “Dean? What’s going on?”

“Sam said something about people eating people. And I do not mean a werewolf killing someone in the shadows. I mean his neighbor ripped his wife’s throat out, Y/N. I don’t know what’s going on, but it is bad,” you are out of the bed to help Dean remove the deck boards seconds later. “You still got those packed bags, right?”

“Always ready to run again, Dean,” you sniff as your eyes land on the bags with guns. “Does Sam know why?”

“No. He was on his way to us,” Dean explains as you get the bags out. “You should get dressed. Pack up one or two more bags. Light package, sweetheart. Only necessary things.”

“Got it,” you jump up to hastily get dressed. You wear jeans, a tank top, and flannel – your hunter uniform once again. “What do you need?”

“Clothes, hunter style, Y/N. I will get the Impala ready and dad’s truck. I’m not sure if we will need more than one car,” your husband places the bags with guns onto the bed, unzipping one to get a shotgun out. “No matter what happens, stay up here and be ready.”

“Dean, we don’t even know what’s going on,” you try to calm your husband. “Maybe it’s a local problem. Only as people freaked out in California doesn’t mean they will do so here too.”

“I know but,” he stops in his tracks, turns around to cup your cheek, “better safe than sorry. We will prepare everything and maybe, we will laugh about it later…”

“Fuck, that was a close call,” Sam stumbles into your house, a scared Claire in tow. “Lock the doors and windows.”

“Sam, fuck what happened?” you slam the door shut, locking it. “Sammy?”

Your brother-in-law looks like he fought his way out of hell once again. His face, arms, and hands are caked with dirt and blood.

“Sammy, what happened?” Dean shoves a heavy commode in front of the door, huffing as he can hear screams outside of the house. “Shit, it’s happening here too.”

“I was on my way back home, ya know,” Sam frantically runs his fingers through his dirty hair. “Suddenly someone jumped at the woman walking behind me. It was my neighbor. He-he ripped her throat out with his teeth, looking like one of the zombies in the movies you liked so much, Dean.”

“Same,” Claire sniffs, looking at you. “I was in town to visit Sam. Right when I left my car someone jumped at me. I had my gun and shot his leg, but he just got back up. I shot his heart, thrice and he didn’t stop.”

“Head. You always aim for the head,” Dean laughs, shaking his head. “This must be a cosmic joke, right? There is no way a zombie apocalypse is going on out there, right in front of my house!” he jerks his head toward the windows. “Shit, the windows.”

“Got it,” you run toward the living room to get the remote control for the automatic rolling shutters. “I will close them.”

“Dean, war is going on out there,” Sam runs his hand down his face. “If you get bitten, you turn into one of them.”

“I got that. I’m an expert for zombie movies, bitch,” he looks at his brother, shaking his head. “Has this something to do with the Croatoan virus? Is it that? Years after we defeated Lucifer they try again?”

“It’s not like back then, Dean,” you stumble back toward Dean, scared to lose your home and life once again. “Honestly, this looks more like a horror movie than some demon’s plan.”

October 12th, 2020

Three months later you try to navigate your new life. Autumn has come and you barely remember the days before everything went downhill.

Now you sit in front of your fireplace, staring at the ash of the last wood you burned a few days ago. Electricity doesn’t work anymore, just like the heating. You are stuck at your house with Dean, Sam, and Claire and, food is rare.

“We can’t stay here forever. They almost broke through that door two nights ago, and we are running out of food sooner or later. Our storage is almost empty,” Dean looks at you, sighing deeply. “What if we try to make it to the bunker?”

“Dean, that’s impossible. We won’t make it that far,” you argue, not wanting to leave your home. “If we try to leave, they are going to rip us apart.”

“That is enough,” Dean jumps up from the armchair to glare at you.

Over the last weeks, he got more and more aggressive. Being stuck at the house gets a toll on him and he started to treat you like liability, not his wife. He’s focused on anything but how you feel and slowly, you don’t recognize the man you love anymore.

“I hate to agree with Dean, but we can’t stay here, Y/N. We got not much food left. The bunker is our best chance to survive,” Sam sides with his brother, of course, he does. “Maybe we find more survivors on our way too.”

“We got no food at the bunker either, Sammy.”

“Uh—do you remember my trips to get parts for the truck?” Dean sheepishly looks at you. “I kinda visited the bunker. I got a storage full of water bottles, cans, and other stuff.”

“So, when you left for days you visited the bunker to take your time to reminisce about 'the old days and ways,” arms crossed over your chest you glare at Dean. “You lied to me repeatedly?”

“Can you shut up for one moment?” you flinch at Dean’s harsh tone. He didn’t treat you like that since he lost the Mark of Cain. “I’m trying to keep us all alive once again. If you want to stay here, fine. Let those rotten bastards eat you alive, sweetheart.”

“If we want to go, we should do it now,” Dean sits next to you on your bed. “I know you want to stay, but we got food for a week left. We should use it wisely and try to make it to the bunker.”

“Fine,” you are too tired and emotionally drained for another fight. It’s been two more weeks since Dean first brought up the bunker. “I got everything packed up till morning. Just tell me when to jump, and I do so.”

“Sweetheart, I…” for a moment Dean’s features soften, but you can see the change in his eyes. Something about this apocalypse brought back the more raw and deadly side of your husband. 

“What will we do? What’s the plan?”

“Sammy and I will sneak into the garage, store the weapons and all we will need into the trunks of our cars. We will give you a sign to follow us and then, we’ll get the hell out of town,” Dean recites the plan Sam and he made. “Everything will be alright.”

“No, it won’t,” you huff. “Our life is over, Dean. We will never see our children run around the garden, and we will never grow old together. “We will fight to survive, or over food for the rest of our lives and there will be no more happiness or laughter.”

“I promise to bring you to the bunker, safe and sound,” you believe Dean, but hate to see a hunter and deadly fighter in front of you, not your loving husband.

“I know,” is all you reply before turning to get up and pack a few more things. “Claire and I will be ready tomorrow.”

“Y/N, tell me if you need my help,” he’s halfway out of the bedroom before you hear him sigh. “I still love you; you know.”

“I love you too,” it’s more a reflex than a reciprocated feeling. You feel hollow and sad, all the while you want to scream and kill all the monsters out there.

“I’ll be right back. We should get some sleep tonight. Sammy will take the first shift, Claire is next and so on,” nodding you look at your wedding picture on your nightstand. “Y/N we need to stay sharp…”

“Done?” Dean returns a few hours later, looking tired and exhausted. “We prepared everything.”

“Okay,” you stand in front of the window, glance outside to see more of your neighbors roam the area. “There are so many of them, Dean. How shall we get through the masses?”

“We prepared the cars over the last weeks, Y/N. Sammy and I secured the windows, the windshield, and the rear window using everything we could find. No one is going to stop us,” you flinch when lightning illuminates the night sky, thunder roars in the distance and you gasp as the zombies stop in their tracks to look up at the sky.

The brainless monsters seem to be mesmerized by the approaching and you feel hope bloom in your chest. “That’s odd,” Dean joins you on the window, frowning as the zombies still watch the lightning. “Maybe that’s a chance, Dean. If we can distract them…”

“…we can get away without a fight,” you nod. “I’ll check the bags. I think I got a flare gun. We shoot them into the sky, enter the cars and speed off before they turn their attention back toward fresh meat.”

“It’s a chance,” you whisper as you watch the zombies start to walk around the area again. Most of them are your former neighbors. You couldn’t save one of them. The moment Sam and Claire entered your house, all hell broke loose outside your home. 

The thunderstorm continued, delaying your departure for another day and another sleepless night. You couldn’t risk leaving the house and getting into a storm, ending up trapped in your cars.

“We can make it, okay,” Dean grounds his teeth together, hating you look scared and unsure. He must be the leader now, the hard-ass hunter he used to be before you got out of this life. “Claire, Y/N, you will wait here. I will whistle when we are done.”

“Got it,” you tighten the hold on your gun, swallowing thickly as Dean and Sam run toward the garage to get the cars ready. 

“I’m scared, Y/N,” Claire whispers, not wanting the brothers to hear she’s scared. “We barely made it last time.”

“I know but,” you nod as you hear Dean whistle, “we got to get out of here…” and then you grasp for Claire’s hand to run toward the garage. Your hunter instinct kicks in, and you feel the adrenaline pump through your veins when you jump into the Impala.

“Claire, into the truck with Sammy. Get the shotgun, but don’t shoot if it’s not necessary,” Dean instructs. “I will shoot out of the window and distract them long enough with the flare gun for Sammy to break through the garage door with the truck. Sweetheart, you need to start the engine for me.”

“Got it.”

Everything happens so fast. Dean uses the flare gun to distract the undead. Sam breaks through the garage door with the truck while Dean races back to the garage, jumping into the car to follow his brother on the road.

Now the home you created will never get to know the children you will never have…

December 22nd, 2020

Being on the road never was a problem to you. Until zombies began to roam the world and block any road you could take to reach the bunker.

Winter always made you feel happy, and giddy for Christmas. Now all you feel is sadness, hopelessness as you face the destruction the undead left everywhere you go.

“We will make it,” Dean runs his hand over his beard. “I know we had hoped to reach Lebanon much sooner.”

“We will make it,” you’re too tired to tell Dean it’s been almost two months since you left your house to go back to the bunker. “It’s just…there are so many of them only the four of us.”

“Don’t give up just yet,” he sighs again, eyes as tired as yours as he looks at the map you found at a service station. “We are close, sweetheart.”

You give Dean a weak smile but turn your head to look out of the window. You are driving through a nameless town, roamed by an army of the dead. They are slow but, too many of them can easily rip you apart.

“So much destruction,” you nod at Dean’s comment, hoping and praying the bunker is still intact and that not one of the monsters made it inside. “Looks like someone burned the whole town down.”

“A bomb maybe?” glancing at the destroyed houses you pass by you frown deeply, wondering if anyone made it out alive out of this town. “Before or after they ran the town over?”

“Military, maybe. I don’t know,” he drives behind Sam’s truck. “Let’s stay sharp and keep an eye on the dead. We don’t want to end up as their latest meal. Not so close to our goal…”

December 24th, 2020

Coming home to the bunker and finding it intact is the best Christmas present you ever got.

You barely made it back to your former home. An endless stream of undead always hot on your heels you fought your way through the masses.

“Home sweet home,” you look at Claire, nodding as she falls to her knees, crying. “I’ve missed you, bunker.”

“We should check on the weapons, the security system, and the generators. Sammy, weapons. Y/N, check on the food, water, and everything else.

“Claire, you will help Y/N. Get the supplies we gathered on our way here and store them,” Dean barks orders at all of you. “Hurry, we need to lock the bunker.”

“It is already locked,” you sigh, rubbing your sore neck nervously. “I need sleep and if possible, a shower. Can we not just have some sleep. It’s been months since I slept more than two hours straight.”

“We need to stay sharp and not forget out there a zombie apocalypse is going on. Now stop arguing, Y/N.”

“Yes, Sir. Captain Winchester, Sir,” you sneer at Dean. “I did nothing else but follow orders for months. I suggest you find your own room for the night…”

“We got eight shotguns, fifteen handguns, and—” Dean sighs as you do not pretend to listen. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry. You know I had to be like this to get us here.”

“We have enough food for around a year,” you yawn, eyes fluttering close. “If we do not waste too much food, maybe a little longer. I found some seeds at one of the stores we checked. We need potting soil, though.”

“I will try to get you some potting soil,” he sits on the bed next to you to run his hand over your back. “This is not the life I wanted, Y/N. You know it isn’t.”

“How long until we will need to leave this place to store up again?” you ask as Dean lies next to you. He allows himself to close his eyes, to get some much-needed sleep. “Dean?”

“I will try to find out if anyone is still alive out there,” he whispers. “We got a functional communication system. I hope Jody, Donna, and the other hunters made it out alive.”

“What if they did?” you roll to your side to face your husband. He looks tired and sad, as he opens his eyes again to look at you.

“We will tell them to come here and join forces with us,” he whispers. “And then, we will get our world back, sweetheart. I promised to give you a normal life, and I will be damned if I won’t keep that promise…”

Tags in reblog.

[fggtwrmz]

✞ pretty little sinner ✞

Hihi!! Taz here with this accounts first ((technically second)) post! This ones a full fic so it’s v lengthy

warnings: dubcon, noncon is you squint, size kin, dirty talk, talk of breeding, oral, religious themes, degradation, dumbification, dacryphilia, talk of corruption, did i mention degradation? cus we went a lil ham on degration, very rough in general, no like seriously kuroos hella mean here

please mind the warnings and leave if your uncomfortable with any listed!!

wc: 7.6k

The whole small town that you had lived in had known you and your parents as the perfect catholic family, and why would they have any reason to not believe that? After all, you were always such a good girl. The pride and joy of your parents’ lives, you did good in school, never complained about chores, and attended church every Sunday. That’s right, you were the perfect little catholic school girl. 

That's what drew you into him. 

You looked so innocent, so pure, so breakable, he just had to have you. 

And that cute little cross necklace you wore to show your faith? He just wanted to rip it off of you. Have you worship him instead. 

When you had spoken to him you didn’t imagine what he would actually be like. He’d put up such a sweet facade. But that's all it was. 

A facade. 

“What’s someone as pretty as you doing in a place like this, Dollface?” Came out the velvety voice of the walking personification of temptation himself; Kuroo Tetsuro. 

You had heard about him through whispered rumors throughout the halls. He had an infamous reputation. But rumors were just that. Rumors.

So you humored him. 

“At….The corner store? I’m getting snacks, what does it look like?” You had to giggle. It was such a foolish question. So foolish that you didn’t know the weight that it had held. 

He had you hook, line, and sinker, you were just too innocent to realize. And he had been oh so sweet to accept your invitation to church on Sunday! Of course, you had to ask him, the house of God was as good a place to get to know someone as any. Much better than a dingy corner store anyway. 

His words were sweet and charming, even for just a small chat. There was a look on his face that made you suspect something, but the way he spoke pushed your suspicions. 

So when Sunday came and you saw him waiting for you at the door, in what appeared was his normal attire, you still gave him a big smile and waved him over to where you and your parents were. 

“Kuroo! You made it!” You wanted to embrace him in a hug, but you felt that would be a little too familiar for someone you had only met yesterday at a convenience store. “Of course I made it, I wouldn’t blow someone as cute as you off.” He spoke, caressing your cheek. 

Of course he wasn't nervous about being too familiar. 

You felt the warmth rush to your cheeks, the affection catching you off guard. 

“Sorry if I seem a bit underdressed.”  He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, though it seemed as if he didn’t care. His attire could be deemed inappropriate for a church setting. His ripped jeans, loose-fitting button-up shirt, Jordan Retros, contrasting with your pure white short sleeve blouse, frilly plaid green and black skirt, and shining black Mary Janes, and of course that shiny cross necklace that hung so prettily from your neck. 

You giggled, “No worries! I’m sure if you had shown up naked the lord wouldn’t turn you away.” 

And there you went again, going on about how the lord would love anyone, sinner or saint. He’d wondered how you would react if you knew the sins he had committed, had planned to commit. 

He wondered what filthy sins such a precious girl like you were hiding under that short little skirt of yours. 

He couldn’t wait to find out. 

You had taken your seat in the far back pews, opting to sit in between him and your parents. You’d been paying attention to your pastor, up until you felt a warm, calloused hand rest itself on your thigh. 

You looked up with a curious look, but Kuroo seemed to be more focused on the word of the holy father than you, so you relaxed at his touch. Keyword; seemed. 

And that wasn’t all he was planning to do, unfortunately for you. 

He rubbed up and down your upper thigh, occasionally squeezing the soft flesh between your skirt’s end and your thigh highs beginning, pushing your skirt just a little higher up your thighs to get more space. 

At that moment you thought you'd absolutely die if your parents looked over at the sinful act that was going on between you two, but when you looked over they were both too caught up in the pastor’s prayer to notice anything. 

His hand moved inward, causing your breath to hitch. His fingers practically brushed against your core, causing you to let out a gasp. It was loud enough for just him to hear but low enough to where your parents wouldn’t suspect anything. 

You placed a hand on his wrist, signaling it was not the time for this. He simply flashed a smirk, never looking down your way. His fingers made their way to your panties, gently rubbing against your folds, you ended up dampening the garments in the process. 

You sucked in your breath, now holding onto his wrist with a feverish grip, notifying him just how on edge you were. 

“Time for the communion! Everyone, form a line, children, teenagers, then adults.” Father announced.

You let out a breath you weren't aware you were holding in. 

Your pastor had just saved you from eternal damnation. 

You and Kuroo walked in line, behind a couple of kids and in front of a few more teens. He rubbed down your shoulders and arms, sending chills down your spine. 

You held your hands behind your back as children took their crackers which were symbolic of the flesh of Jesus, their “wine” symbolic of the blood of Christ, and scattered back to their seats. 

When it was your turn, Kuroo made sure to keep a keen eye on the way your head tilted back ever so slightly when you had opened your mouth for the cracker to be placed on your tongue. 

He wondered what other situations you would be in such an arguably compromising position. 

You ate the cracker and took the small, plastic shot glass-like cup with you back to your seat. 

“Nah,” Kuroo shook his head, declining the offer of the cracker, and took the cup, downing it and throwing it in the small trash bin next to the pastor, walking back to his seat, not looking back. 

He sat back down next to you, his hands in his pockets this time. You stared ahead, waiting for anything to happen, the tension between you two was so thick you could cut it with a knife. 

Suddenly, he leaned down to your ear, so close you could feel the warmth of his breath on your neck. “By the way, you get so fucking wet. It’d be pathetic if it weren't so adorable.” He hummed, sending heat straight to your core. 

You gasped at his words, looking up at him as he leaned back up. “Kuroo!” You whispered. “You shouldn’t curse in the house of the lord!” 

He looked down at you and chuckled slightly. 

“Oh princess, if it were just us here I’d do so much worse.” He teased, making your eyes widen. Heat rushed over your body, causing you to break eye contact with him. His gaze became too much to bear. 

Your parents and pastor had warned you of temptation before, but you had always thought it would be easy to overcome. You would have never thought that it could be something like this. His words and gentle touches felt like too much yet not enough all at the same time. 

You wanted it all to stop, but yet you wanted to beg for more. 

But you had to keep your composure, God's eyes were on you, you reminded yourself. 

But all you could feel was his eyes on. They were fixated on you. The thought alone of that insatiable look in his eye made your thighs pressed together and your throat run dry. It all made your head reel. 

And just like that, it was over. 

You had been so lost in thought that it took Kuroo shaking you to make you notice everyone getting up and gathering outside for the weekly catch-ups that turned, “just a few minutes dear, and then I swear we’ll leave,” into 30 minutes and plans to babysit Mrs. Johnson's grandsons next weekend. 

“Is it time to go?” Kuroo asked you, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“Only the adults are leaving, the teenagers and children stay for Sunday school, that’s why I’m wearing this outfit.” You whispered to him. 

He went silent until he proposed an idea that caught you way off guard. “We should go back to my place for bible study, I might be able to show you a different type of God.” 

Your eyebrows raised at the sudden invitation, you didn’t know what he meant by that, but you know it’d be rude to decline such an offer since he had come to Sunday worship despite his belief in this “other type of god”. 

Before you could answer he tapped your mother’s shoulder, catching the attention of both of your parents. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but can I speak to you for a second?” He asked politely. Your parents said their goodbyes to Sister Elise and stepped away with you and Kuroo. “Yes?” Came the voice of your mother. 

“Would it be alright if me and your sweet daughter here, a real angel if I do say so, could go back to mine so we can go over the Psalms? I would offer to do it over the phone but the lord’s word can only be understood in person.” It’s like he had the good Christian boy next door role down pact. 

Your parents looked at each other worriedly. “I don’t know, will there be a guardian to watch over you two?” Your father asked. “Yes sir, my fathers at work, but my mother will be there. I promise I’ll have her home at a reasonable time.” He promised.

Oh yeah, he has this little act down to the T, not like you could see through it though. You were so naive and thought that you could bring out the good in him with the help of good. How foolish. 

Your father looked at his watch. “It's five now, so have her home no later than eight. Understood?” “Crystal clear, thank you, sir. Shall we get going?” He asked you, a perfect and pure smile plastered on his face. 

He was too perfect, your parents already adored him. 

Too bad it was only to get in your pants. 

———

You were on his bed. His room smelled of pinewood and lavender. You drowned in the scent, loving every second of it. 

His room was nothing like yours, he had deep red walls, wooden floors, and everything looked to be either black or red, barely any other colors being seen other than the clothes in his closet, and some other things you couldn’t identify, but he shut it before you could get a good look. 

“Sorry if my room is a bit dirty, I didn’t think about cleaning up before inviting you.” He apologized, closing the curtains. 

You loved the way he spoke, it was like his words were coated with chocolate. His luscious and velvety voice made you think things, things the lord would frown upon. 

“No worries! Nobody’s perfect.” You kindly reassured him with a polite smile. 

He’d think differently, you were a goddess in his eyes. Every part of you, even everything he couldn’t see, not that he’d be in the dark for much longer. 

He chuckled, his eyes wandering down your figure, undressing you with his eyes, as you sat innocently on his bed waiting for whatever he might do. 

“So where’s your mom?” You asked innocently, catching him off guard. “What?” “You said your mom was here, where is she? I didn’t see her when we walked in.” 

He’d already forgotten. Typical. 

“Oh, she’s probably taking a nap.” He lied with ease. 

He didn’t think he'd be able to forgive himself if he was in the presence of his mother while thinking about such ungodly things. He planned to defile you, and he wanted to be the only one who even got close to experiencing you in such a state.  

“Oh well-uhm...I’ll be sure to be quiet so I don’t disturb her.” 

He held in a chuckle. There was no way that you would be quiet, no way you could be quiet when he got his way.

“So…. While I have no real interest in changing faiths, I have to ask about the god that you worship.” 

He had you right where he wanted you. 

He hovered over your frame at the edge of the bed, him standing and towering over you. He’d lifted your chin to look up at him with the tips of his fingers and said in a delightfully sinful tone, 

“Oh baby,” He leaned in close to your ear, you could feel his hot breath on your sensitive skin. “I’m the new god, and you're gonna worship me like I’m your true creator.” 

You felt yourself shrink, yes at the way he was menacingly towering over you, but at the way he describes his God—no, himself. 

“You-you’re...the god you were talking about?” You stammered, your hands on his chest, trying to make some distance between you and his dominating presence. 

Sadly to no avail. 

“Mhm, and you’re going to be a good girl and obey me, understood?” 

 "Y-yes, sir." 

"Awe look at you, using your manners without me having to tell you. Keep that up and you just might get a reward." He cooed.

You felt a familiar heat pool at the pit of you. 

What was he going to do to you? What were these sudden temptations? And most importantly why did you want more. 

This was god testing you, and you were failing miserably. 

You wanted so badly to give in to your desires. To leave behind the life of that sweet innocent angel that everyone once knew, you wanted to give yourself wholly to your new one and only savior. 

You were really doing this. 

You were abandoning the only faith you’d ever known for some stranger. 

For all you know he could be a demon from hell himself, here to stray you away from the path the lord had originally sent you to. No, he couldn’t be a demon. He was so sweet when the two of you had first met, and he was so polite when addressing your parents. 

You felt like Eve, being tempted with such a delicious specimen by the devil himself. So when he pushed his lips against yours harshly, like Eve, you gave in. 

His lips molded perfectly against yours. Your tongues were dancing in an elegant waltz that could only be described as heavenly. His lips tasted so sweet on yours. If this was the forbidden fruit you would happily taste it again and again. 

His hands roamed your backside, hiking your skirt up so he could get a feel of your cotton panties. Your breathing sped, feeling him caress your clad ass. You’d always been told to never let anyone touch you like this unless you’re married, but I guess your god was the only exception. 

That’s right. Kuroo was god now, and you had to let him do whatever you want.

Suddenly, he roughly pulled your skirt off, throwing it behind him. You whimpered, afraid he might’ve ripped your skirt. 

Feeling his rough hands run up your sides and into your shirt, he stopped kissing you to look down, causing you to let out a whine, missing the feeling of his lips on yours. 

“Awe baby, don’t look so sad, I’ll get your mouth back to work real soon.” He whispered, trying to unbutton your shirt. Trying. 

You could tell he was getting frustrated at how the buttons wouldn’t come undone. 

He groaned loudly, grabbing an open hole of your blouse and ripping it open, making the buttons of your shirt fly everywhere. You gasped, whining because now you didn’t have anything to come home in. 

“Kuroo! How am I supposed to go home without a shirt?” You whined, hearing him chuckle soon after. 

“Hush, you’ll be fine don’t worry, you won’t be needing it anytime soon.” Kuroo reassured with a smirk.

He unclipped your bra and threw it behind him, looking down hungrily at your tits, admiring how perfect they were. He cupped one of them and proceeded to place the other in his mouth. You let out a soft moan, awakening something fierce in him. 

“Oh fuck, I can’t wait to hear more of those sweet sounds, princess. That’s right, let it all out for me baby.” 

He kissed up your chest and to your neck, peppering kisses and bite marks on you. Claiming you. 

He bit down on a certain spot, making you moan out, your fingers getting intertwined with the back of his hair. Your legs clung onto his waist as he abused the spot with his mouth, leaving dark hickeys. 

Your moans became needier when he brought his knee up to your cunt, grinding it right against your clit, making you wetter by the second. 

You felt high on ecstasy, the pleasure becoming heavenly, but what made everything pure bliss was his words. 

The way he’d call you his baby, his princess in between kisses, and the best of all, his little sinner. 

Being called his sinner made you feel a different type of feeling. It felt wrong, you could feel the heavens looking down on you in disappointment with each response you gave him. 

Yes, you’d be giving up your oath to stay pure until marriage, but if it’s your god taking your virginity, what harm could be done?

When he lifted up off you, you were snapped from your pleasure. 

He was looking down at your body and you resting upwards on your elbows, wondering why he’d left. 

“Get on your knees.” It wasn't a request. It was an order. One that you, of course, didn’t even think to disobey. 

So there you sat. All pretty and kneeling in front of him as if he was an alter. 

 You looked like such a perfect slut in his eyes. Who knew that such an innocent little virgin could look like the perfect whore. 

He wouldn’t tell you that though. No, he wanted to warm you up first. Call you such sweet names, make you feel like his precious baby girl and then let you know just how much of a dirty slut he thought you were.

Knew you were. 

All you needed was a push in the right direction. And he would provide that push. 

“Now you want to know how to appease your god, don’t you?” 

You nodded from in between his legs enthusiastically. 

“Well, first, you have to atone for your sins. Now how would we go about doing that?” 

You didn’t answer. You didn’t know what to say. 

“C’mon baby, be a good girl and use your words. How would you atone for your sins? Think about the position you're in before you answer.” 

You looked down at your legs which were folded underneath you and looked back up at him. 

“P-Prayer?” 

He couldn’t help but laugh at your innocence. “Oh princess, so innocent even in such a vulgar position baby. You’re gonna atone for your sins by sucking me off. You don't want me to be mad, do you?” 

Of course you didn’t. You didn’t even understand what sins you had even committed, but if Kuroo says you’ve sinned, you'll let him do anything to make you holy again. 

He stood up and unzipped his pants, pulling out his cock and waving it teasingly over you. 

“Now stick out your tongue.” 

You did as you were told, eyes never leaving his cock. It was the only one you’d ever seen, and the only one you ever wanted to see. It was a good 7 or 8 inches and about 4 inches wide in girth. 

It had the drool pooling at the bottom of your tongue before falling on your thigh high socks. It felt every bit as sinful as it looked and it had your panties soaked. You'd grinded against yourself for some sort of friction. 

“Awe, so pretty for me, now listen to me, you're gonna take everything I give you, ok princess?” 

You nodded, feeling as if your voice would betray if you tried to speak. 

“What’d I say about using your words? Such a shame, you were being so good earlier.” 

“Sorry sir, please don’t be mad, I promise I’ll-I'll take it all. I'll be so good for you.” The words were coming out faster than you could control. If someone would have told you that you would be in that predicament about a week ago you would have laughed in their face. But here you were, begging for him to do something, anything. 

You sounded absolutely brain dead and he loved it. 

“Ah, yeah that’s it, that’s my good girl.” He said grabbing you by your hair and gently guiding you down his shaft. 

“Fuck baby, ‘gonna train this throat so well you’ll be ready to worship this cock with your mouth anytime of any day.” He growled, lowering your head down faster, soon hearing you gag over his length. You felt tears prick your eyes as he finally thrusted his full length in your mouth, going well past your limits. 

He lets out a dark chuckle, suddenly being cut off by a throaty moan. 

“Ah f-fuck princess you’re being such a good girl, now remember to breathe through your nose.” He reminded you, resulting in you looking up at him and nodding, letting him know you understood. 

Your parents would disown you if they knew what you were doing. Your pastor and priest wouldn’t even think of speaking to you. You’d only have Kuroo, but that doesn’t sound too bad. After all, you had devoted your life to your religion in the past, so what would be so different now? You’d just be able to indulge in such fine luxuries as getting facefucked after church. 

He put his other hand on your head, roughly shoving your head down, matching the bucking upwards of his hips. The action erupted a loud groan from him, throwing his head back. 

You could feel him all the way down your throat. 

“Oh yeah, that’s my good girl, fucking hell baby girl,” he moaned, you could feel his thrusting start to get uneven, your throat not having anymore time to adjust to his size and abuse. 

His pace was absolutely brutal but you sat there, taking everything he gave you.

On the inside you were smiling, happy to please your god, you felt so proud of yourself for making him feel good. Being his good little girl. His obedient little worshipper. 

Your eyes became watery, the way he roughly thrusted into your mouth made your throat hurt, which made your eyes water. 

He bit his lip, lowering the sound of the grunt he let out. “Mmf, baby you look so pretty right now, such a pretty fucking princess for me.” He grunted. 

You didn’t feel pretty, though. Your face was covered in tears, sweat, makeup, and ran down mascara. Your hair was under Kuroo’s grip, messily overlapping his hands. Strings of drool were hanging from your plump lips onto your thighs, not to mention your soaked panties. 

Kuroo on the other hand looked heaven sent. Hair messily askew and face tinted slightly red. Biting his lip while sweat slid down his forehead. He looked like he was graced by God.

He looked like he was graced by God.

You felt ashamed at how wet you got by just looking at him, but fuck was he sexy. 

He shoved your head down quicker and quicker, thrust harder into your mouth. “Fuck, fuck baby you’re gonna-you’re gonna make me—” His groans became more and more breathy, and his working became more and more sloppy, until you felt a warm, thick, sticky liquid coat the insides of your mouth. 

The foreign substance tasted bitter and you wanted to spit it—

“Ah ah,” he sang, grabbing your chin to make you look up at him. 

You looked disgusting. He wanted to see you like this more often.

 “Be good and swallow for me, baby girl.” 

You gulped down the liquid, feeling it still in your throat, but it didn’t bother you enough to where you couldn’t breath. 

“Di-did I do good, sir?” You sounded absolutely broken, and it was like music to his ears. 

“You did amazing, I don’t think I’ve ever cum so hard. Does your face feel alright?” He cooed, tucking himself back into his pants. 

“My jaw hurts, and so does my throat, but I’m glad I got to make you feel good.” 

Kuroo smirked, admiring what he molded you into. Such a dedicated disciple, you deserve an award. “Now it’s your turn. Come on, hop up on the bed for me,” he commanded, patting the spot on his bed beside him. 

You did so eagerly, not wanting to break your obedience streak. You sat on your feet, your hands resting on each of your thighs, smiling with the light shining beautifully in your eyes. 

Even as the mascara ran down your cheek, you looked so beautiful to him. 

“Lay down.” He softly said. You obeyed, as usual, keeping your legs closed in the air. You had no idea what he was thinking of doing. 

“Spread them for me, babes.” He commanded. You were confused, why did he want your legs spread? 

“Wait, why?” You asked innocently. His eyebrows furrowed.

 “Because I said so. You’re not really denying the word of your lord, are you?”

Of course you didn’t. You were completely devoted to him, so without further hesitation you spread your legs. He pulled your drenched panties up off you and threw them somewhere in the room. 

He ducked himself inbetween your thighs and planted your thighs on the side of his head with a secure grip. 

“W-Wait!” You squeaked out. 

“What’s wrong baby? You’ve been such a good girl, and good girls deserve rewards now don’t they?”  He acts like this is for you, when in all honesty it’s all been for him. This whole time he’s only been fulfilling his desires of turning you from a sweet and innocent princess into a filthy fucked out whore and he knows this will only speed the process a bit, you just so happen to be getting some pleasure out of it. 

“Yeah I gue- Ah!” A moan cut you off when you felt him lick up your wet folds, moaning your legs jolt up and your back arch. 

He plunged his tongue into you, his thick tongue thrusts into you, making your moans come out in squeaks. You felt absolutely amazing already. 

His tongue circled around your clit, pushing his tongue in and out of you in patterns; leaving his tongue in, out, for a second, then in again going back to sucking and circling.

Your moans became higher and breathier each time his tongue circled your clit, it drove him absolutely crazy.

He was...spelling something? You could feel it as he kept making the same trails around your cunt. 

K,

U,

R,

O,

O. 

Kuroo. 

“Mmph, Kuroo, more please…” You moaned tugging at his hair. He slid his thumb up your thigh, rubbing your clit as he pushed his tongue deeper in you, prodding your sweet spot.

The sudden action made you cry out in pleasure, tugging at his hair. He moaned from under you at the sudden mix of pain and pleasure on his scalp.

Kuroo stuck his tongue in and out of you, continuing to rub your clit with his thumb. You felt a tingling sensation grow low in your stomach, making your grip tighten on Kuroo’s hair and while your other frantically grabbed at his sheets, the foreign feeling traveling through your entire being. 

You moaned his name, wanting to ask him what the sensation was, but your mind only focused on him, making barely anything come out other than moans and his name. 

His fingers sped up as his tongue explored your walls. The sensation made you tighten, sending chills through your core as the pressure became too much to process alone.

Your legs twitched as your orgasm rocked through you, your eyes rolling back, gripping his hair tightly.

All that you could think of in that moment was Kuroo. KurooKurooKurooKuroo. It was a repeating mantra in your mind.

Your walls tightened around Kuroo’s tongue, a moan squeaking from your throat. Your grip tightened as you came, covering his tongue. You came from your high slowly, allowing you to let out a satisfied sigh. 

You smiled peacefully as he hungrily lapped at your clit, making sure not to let a single drop of your cum slip from his tongue. 

As he pulled out his fingers and lifted up from your body, you relaxed, your legs falling and your hand bringing itself to rest upon your stomach. 

He came up and captured your lips in a bruising kiss, making sure you could taste yourself on his tongue. You tried pushing him away, not liking the taste of yourself, but he slapped your thigh, taking your hands and holding both of them above your head. 

You whimpered squirming, uncomfortable with him holding you down. You shook your head in the kiss, trying to get away, but he only took this as an invitation to slide his tongue into your mouth. 

You moaned into the kiss, feeling your body temperature rise as he rocked against you, grinding against your thigh. The foreign feeling felt weird, but knowing you were giving him pleasure did cloud your mind with a hazy fog. 

He parted ways from the kiss and looked down on you. 

You looked so fucked out, and the real fun hadn’t even started yet. He wondered how you would be able to take him all the way, the thought of you not being able to handle all of him snuck its way  into his mind and making him groan. 

You would look so cute crying that it was all too big, how it wouldn’t fit. The money he’d pay to see that, he’d bow down and pray to any god to see that image and keep it in his mind forever. 

He leaned up and loomed over you, caging you with his hands on either side of your head. His eyes were dark with lust. It struck a tinge of fear in you. 

He unzipped his pants, pulling his cock out, and spread your legs once more.

Leaning down, he whispered in your ear. "Do you think you're worthy enough for my cock princess?" 

"Huh!?" 

"Awe, what did you think was gonna happen sweetheart? You thought it'd be that easy to make up for your sins—"

"But you said—" you felt tears prick your eyes. You didn't think you were ready for such a big step before marriage. You two weren't even dating!

"But you said—" He mocked in a whiny voice. "I know what I said, and now I'm saying," he pulled you by the cross on your necklace. 

"That I'm gonna fuck you until you’re too fucked out to even think about anything else. I'll turn you into such a pretty whore that you'll feel dirty even thinking about stepping foot in that church. Do you understand slut?"

Whore? Slut? Where was this coming from? He’d been so nice to you. You wouldn’t think he’d call you such degrading names. It was like a switch had been flipped inside him. 

You looked down at his size, causing you to whimper in fear for your small body. 

Kuroo squeezed your cheeks in one hand roughly, making you whine, your eyes watering. “Use your words, you dumb bitch. Do you or do you not understand what I’m saying?” He repeated. 

You nodded. “I-I understa-stand.” You hiccuped, hugging your arms.

You we’re borderline sobbing at this point. This wasn’t the smooth and sweet guy who chatted you up in the convenience store. This wasn’t the sweet christian boy your parents knew. This man was Lucifer himself.

And now, your new lord and saviour. 

You didn’t know what you were getting yourself into. You should have never given him the benefit of the doubt. Everyone was right about him. He was just a mean playboy jerk who treated women like shi-

“Awe don’t cry sweetheart. You were doing so good just a minute ago.” His sweet and comforting tone snapped you from your thoughts, and you felt your mind become just a bit less panicked about the whole situation. “Although, you do look awfully pretty when you cry… hm… How bout this; I’ll just make you feel so good to where your instant reaction is to cry. That way I get to see that cute little tear-stained face, and you get to have my expert cock. How does that sound, princess?” 

You nodded, feeling like if you opened your mouth only sobs would come out. 

“What did I say about your words?” He quickly chastised. 

“S-Sorry. Yes sir I-I’d like that…” 

“That's a good girl,” The praise made your chest bubble with joy. You were happy that you could be seen as good in his eyes after all the disgusting things he had just called you. 

“Now here’s the worst part.” 

And that was all the warning you got before he rammed his cock into you. It was the worst pain that you had ever felt. The agonizing stretch, the unfamiliar feeling of being so full, it all was too painful to bear. So you did exactly what he planned and cried. 

He thought of going slow, he really did, but then he wouldn’t be able to see you and those absolutely gorgeous tear streaks. 

“Kuroo, it hurts! It’s too much! Take it out please!” You sobbed out. 

He laughed at you. “Aww poor baby, is it too much?” 

“Good.” He said with another slam of his hips. “You seem—fuck— to forget what we’re—oh god your so fucking tight—doing this for. You were acting like a bitch in church. In the house of your—shit—precious lord.” He said the last point in a mocking tone. “And now you're just paying for your sins to your new god.” He breathed out while continuing to thrust into you at a brutal pace. 

You could only cry harder as he fucked you with such vigor. The stretch was so painful and with every rough thrust he hit your cervix dead on. It was absolute torture. 

So you 're confused as to why the pain slowly subsided and turned to pleasure. Were you… enjoying this? No. There was no way. You didn’t even get a real say in what was happening. So why we’re tiny gasps coming out faster than you could stop them? And why did your hips start to move down to match his thrusts. 

“How do you thi-think your parents would react to your sinful actions right now? Huh, you dumb slut? Bet they’d be so disappointed to see that their precious little girl is nothing but a pretty little sinner huh? Say it! Fuck- Say you’re a sinner, and make sure the neighbors can hear you say it.” 

“B-but your mom..!” 

“You actually believed that?” He laughed. His laughing consisted of grunts and groans, making his laughing time out. “You’re such a fucking dumbass, you know that? I wouldn’t be touching your disgusting ass if my mother was home.” He growled, making more tears stream down your face. 

You whined, covering your face because of the absurd amount of embarrassment you felt. 

“Oh no no no, don’t cover your beautiful face now!” He grunted, taking both of your wrists and holding them above your head. 

With only the bottom half of his cock fucking into you, his thrusts were long and deep, making sure you felt it in your stomach. Your eyes rolled back with each agonizingly painful and deep thrust, your nails ripping off your skins from balling your fists. 

“Oh fuckkkk you're so tight for me.” Kuroo groaned. ”How’s such a slut like you got such a tight pussy?” 

It was obvious that the question was rhetorical as he started to slow his thrusts but put more force behind them, bruising your cervix. All you could let out were little “ah ah ah ahhhhhhs”. 

He slowly stopped, looking down at your trembling body. He let out a breathy groan, shaking his head and biting his lip. 

He let go of one of your wrists and grabbed hold of your hand, bringing it down to your stomach. 

“Princess, do you feel that?” He asked, rubbing your hand over a bump on your stomach. You looked down with him, seeing a slight bump stand with attention below your belly button, making your eyes widen and your breath quicken. 

“Ka-ka-Kuroo! What is that?!” You frantically questioned. 

He looked up at you with the most agrivated, most dumb founded look on his face. “What do you mean, ‘what’s that’?! That’s me, dollface.” He spat, making you jump. “Y-you..?” 

He groaned, slamming into you again, causing you to scream out again. “Ya’ see that moving in your stomach? That’s me, fucking deep into your tight tight pussy.” He growled. You look down again, seeing the bulge in your stomach move with each sharp thrust Kuroo sent through you. 

It made your head feel fuzzy. 

Your body started adjusting to his size, finally. You lifted your legs to cling onto the side of his waist, but they quickly fell spread for him. Your arms also stopped struggling, relaxing under his grip. Your eyes slowly rolled to the back of your head. With each animalistic thrust of his hips you could feel the bed shake. You could barely hear the frame hit the wall over the sound of your high whines and moans and his low groans filling your ear. But you could still faintly hear it, reminding of how rough he was getting. 

“Alright princess now open your mouth and stick your tongue out.” He commanded from over you. 

You opened your mouth and leaned your head back being sure to lol your tongue out.

You felt a cold liquid settle near the tip of your tongue, it was Kuroo’s spit. He’d let it fall like a fountain. Licking his lips when he’d finished. 

“Now swallow like a good girl.”

You closed your mouth and gulped. Letting the spit slide down your tongue. It should have grossed you out, but instead it made your eyes roll back. 

“Aww, look at you, all pretty and fucked out.” he shrugged, thrusting upwards into you, hitting a spot that made you scream out in ecstasy. 

“Kuroo, right there! Fuck, Kuroo yes right there!!” You moaned, arching your back and throwing your head back. 

That was the first time you cursed. Ever. 

“Such a dirty vocabulary you’re discovering! I’m such a good influence on you, your parents would be so proud.” He sarcastically exclaimed in a low and gravelly voice. 

Your parents. You were so caught up in your pleasure that you completely forgot all about them, and the time limit they'd set for you. You were sure you’d past it, it was fairly dark outside. 

You whined, feeling more tears of disappointment roll down the side of your face. “Do-don’t talk about them right now…Ah-I’m gonna-Kuroo fuck p-please!”

He only thrusted harder faster. “Awe baby, do you think you're the one in control? That’s so cute.” He pulled you by your necklace for the second time that night. “You’re atoning for your sins, and I’m using your body for my own pleasure. So you’re gonna sit back, and make sure the only thing that comes out of that pretty. Little. Mouth,” He punctuated each word with a harsh thrust. “Are those pretty. Little. Moans. You got that princess?” 

“Y-yes sir. I’m so sorry sir.” 

“Awe look at my baby! Using her words like a good girl!” He deeply cooed. 

You bit your lip, holding back the moan you desperately wanted to let out, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of your voice. He noticed and started to pound faster. You couldn’t hold back anymore. 

“Fuck! Kuroo! Ple-ase! Fuck you’re so good. Sosososo good. Pleeeeease!” 

“Listen to you! You sound downright pathetic!” He laughed at you. It felt humiliating, but you felt yourself getting wetter from the whole situation. The intensity, the humiliation, Kuroo’s groans, they all were filling up your senses, and you could feel yourself nearing your climax. 

“Look at you, you’re getting tighter. How much of a- fuuuuck how is it possible that your tighter- slut are you? You're really getting off to me calling you a slut? You like that? Huh? Go on, answer me whore.”  

“Yes! Yes Kuroo! I’m your whore! Fuuuuuckkkk!” Your moans were high and breathy. 

He pulled you by your necklace one again and snatched it clean off of you. 

You gasped, snapping out of your lustful trance. “Kuroo!!! My dad gave me that!!” You cried. 

“I don’t give a fuck, I’m your god now, you don’t need a stupid cross, I’ll let everyone know you’re mine.” He huffed, dangling it in front of you, before throwing it out his window. 

The window. The window! 

 “K-Kuroo, how long has that be-been open?” You asked. 

He groaned, slowing down his thrust. “The window? It’s been open since this morning.” He shrugged, fucking into you sloppier and sloppier. 

You felt embarrassed, heat rushing over your being as you held onto Kuroo to hide your face. “O-oh…” you moaned, scrunching your eyebrows together in embarrassment. 

“What’s wrong baby? Are you embarrassed? Are you embarrassed that my whole neighborhood can hear how bitchy, and pathetic you sound? Fuck- Good, fucking cry about it like the stupid bitch you are.” 

Each insult brought you closer to that edge. You forgot all about your previous embarrassment and basked in the bliss of Kuroo’s rough thrusts. 

“Holy shit- Did you get tighter from me reminding you of how much of a—shiiiiiitttt—of a fucking slut you are?” His voice sounded so breathy. You could feel him twitching inside of you. 

And then the dam broke. You could feel your orgasm sparking through you like electricity. 

“Kuroo! Kuroo! Im cumm- Im cumming! Oh Fuck! Fuckfuckfuckfuck! You're so good!”

He revelled in the profanities spilling from your mouth, knowing that before this you probably would have never thought about saying such vile things. 

“Oh thats right baby who’s making you cum on his cock like a dumb bitch in heat? Who’s your god? C’mon, say it, princess.” 

“You! Shit! You're my god! Oh please- It’s too much! It's- It’s too much!” 

He laughed at you. “How many fucking—Fuck baby you feel so good—How many times do I have to tell you this isn’t- Shit- This isn’t for you.” The last part came out as a dark growl. 

“Y-Yes sir! I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah that's a good girl, oh you're such a good slut for me. Shutting up and just taking it. Yeahhh that's a good fucking whore. You want your god to cum inside you? Breed you and fill you up so nice? That what you want princess?” 

Your eyes widened. Nononono he couldn’t! He had to pull out! 

“N-No...Please...” Your voice sounded so weak and tiny. 

“Oh no baby, that was rhetorical. You're gonna sit back and let me breed this little pussy like a good girl who stays in her place, because surely- fuck- you remember your place and wouldn’t talk back, now would you?”

You knew it was useless to deny him. You don’t even know why you tried. 

After a few more thrust there was a particularly hard one. The force of fit knocked you back a bit, but he pulled you back by your thighs so he would stay fully buried inside of you. 

Suddenly you felt nothing but warmth filling you. He was cumming inside you. You could feel him shooting spurt after spurt. You had never felt so full, his thick cock splitting you accompanied by his come pushed you to another orgasm. Your legs shot up and you let out a loud whiny moan. 

“Oh god! Oh fuck! You feel so good filling me up Kuroo- Fuck!” 

“Aww you came again from me cumming in you? What happened to you not wanting it?” He teased. You couldn’t respond, you still hadn’t come down from your high. 

_________

You woke up in an unfamiliar location, dark red walls and black sheets were unlike your pastel blue walls and baby pink sheets. You panicked, until memories of your earlier actions came back to you. You weren't completely calm though, you were sure you definitely passed your curfew and Kuroo was nowhere to be found. 

“Kuroo! I need to get home like— now!” 

He entered the room and laughed. “Oh calm down you big baby, I called your folks and said you’d passed out cause you were so tired. Took some convincing, but they’re fine with you spending the night here.”

You sighed, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. “Oh, thank god.” 

“Speaking of,” He came closer to you. “You down for round two?” 

You felt warmth flood your face and threw a pillow at him. “You pervert!” 

“How am I the pervert when you're the one naked in my bed?” 

He was right, you did feel a cold breeze brush against your cold body as you pulled the covers up. 

“Well then where are my clothes?” 

He winced, itching the back of his neck. “Ya’ see...your skirt is still ripped, but I put your underwear and skirt in the wash. You could wear something of mine though!"

[plaidbooks]

Rough Beginnings

A/N: So! This idea spawned after reading @cycat-carisi​ story, We. Please read that first, then come back here for this prequel! This also covers the Mafia square in @adarafaelbarba​ moodboard bingo!

Tags: mentions of a prostitution ring, talks of murder and mafia-related goings-on

Words: 1964

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart​  @beccabarba​  @thatesqcrush​ @itsjustmyfantasyroom​ @permanentlydizzy​ @ben-c-group-therapy​  @infiniteoddball​ @glowingmess​ @whimsicallymad​ @lv7867​ @storiesofsvu​ @cycat4077​ @alwaysachorusgirl​  @glimmerglittergirl​ @joanofarkansass​ @caracalwithchips​ @berniesilvas​​  @reading--mermaid​  @averyhotchner​  @mrsrafaelbarba​ @detective-giggles​ @crowleysqueenofhell​ @dreamlover31​

(gif by @resparza​ )

Sonny never hated his job more than when he went undercover. He had hated when he was posing as a homeless man with an eye for children, but this was worse. So. Much. Worse.

His cover story for this job was that he was part of the Italian mob, and he had been hired on as security for a prostitution ring; some huge network that was international but had its roots right here in Manhattan. Him, along with multiple real mafia members, were in charge of transporting girls, drugs, and anything else the head honcho told them to.

It had been three months since he went under; his beard itched his face still, his leather jacket was starting to be uncomfortable, and he wanted nothing more than to take all of these bastards down. But they didn’t have enough yet. So, he had to stick it out a little longer—at least, that’s what he told himself. A little longer, a little longer. He wasn’t sure how much “little longer” he had left in him.

Sonny lived in the housing quarters his boss supplied him, along with three other mafia guys. He had almost zero contact with the world outside his job—all the information he gathered was sent in a coded text from a burner. But he was starting to miss his friends and family. At least his employer understood that as part of the Italian mob, Sonny was allowed to go to church on Sundays…if there wasn’t something big happening.

His saving grace came a month later, while standing guard at his boss’s door. A woman he’d seen before came stomping up to him, and he braced himself; he knew that look.

“Let me see my father,” you snarled.

Sonny rose his hands defensively. “I was given orders ta not let anyone in. That includes you,” he replied, crossing his arms once more and trying to puff out his chest. But you simply glared at him.

“Fuck you; let me in, before I force my way in,” you growled.

He chuckled, eyeing you. “Ya really think you can get passed me? Let’s see ya try, doll.”

You gave him another impressive glare before trying to lunge passed him, reaching for the handle. Sonny caught you easily around your midsection, lifting you and placing you down at arm’s length in front of him.

“That the best ya got?” he teased. This wasn’t the first time you tried to brute force your way passed him before, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last. But you had a trick up your sleeve.

You let your bottom lip quiver, tears appearing in your eyes. “Pl-please, sir, let m-me see my—” you trailed off, sniffling loudly.

“Ah geez, don’t be doing that. Come on; he’s in a meeting and will be out soon. Just wait a lil, okay?” he said, a touch of pleading in his voice.

But you didn’t stop, letting the tears trail down your cheeks. You let out a loud sob, and Sonny wanted to rip his hair out; he didn’t need a tantrum with daddy’s spoiled brat right now. He internally winced at that; he didn’t really believe that that was what you were, but when you came up here, trying to cry your way in, his mind went there.

You let out another loud sob. “Please, doll, I promise ta let him know as soon as he’s free—” Sonny started, but he was cut off by the door behind him opening. He stood at attention—like a good little lapdog—and the man who was having a meeting with his employer came out. He took one look at you, then left, rolling his eyes. You quickly wiped your face with your shirt before your dad appeared.

“And what are you doing here?” your father asked, annoyance dripping from his voice.

Sonny felt bad for you, but said nothing, gave away no emotions on his face as you requested to speak with him, privately.

He nodded, and Sonny moved out of the way, letting you enter, the door closing softly behind you both. He released a breath; it was always high tension after a meeting. But Sonny also found himself feeling sorry for you, having a father like that. He was hoping that when the walls came down, you’d at least be spared; you had no real idea of your father’s business, how big and deep it ran.

The meeting between you and your father didn’t last long, and soon enough, the door was opening once more behind him.

“Sonny; drive my daughter home. Giuliano will cover you until you're back,” your father ordered.

Sonny nodded, letting you pass him before following you. He kept his emotions in check, but he saw the look on your face; sadness, betrayal, and fear. He vaguely wondered what you had talked about but didn’t want to pry; he could be fired or worse for it.

It wasn’t until halfway through the drive to your place that he asked if you were okay.

“Fantastic,” you muttered, staring out the window.

Sonny wasn’t sure why he couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut; the words just spilled out. “Ya father is a hard man. I’m sorry ya have ta deal with that.” It was a mistake, he knew; if you were indeed loyal to your father, then saying that out loud was a good way to end up dead.

You blinked in surprise at his bluntness, and for his apology. “Y—yeah, he is. I wouldn’t let him catch you saying that, though.”

He nodded. “Uh, how ‘bout makin’ it our little secret, then?” he asked, hoping beyond hope that you’d say nothing about this to him.

“Our little secret…. Yeah, okay,” you replied dryly, eyes going back to the window.

 *******************

After that conversation, Sonny’s boss would often send him to you, whether to drive you or as extra protection—more like babysitting, to Sonny. But he found that he couldn’t complain; it was the only time he could be close to his true self…plus it was safer and better than doing other, illicit things. Even if he should be doing those things for intel. And of course, he never slipped up like he had on that first car ride. No, he was Sonny from the Italian mob, not the soft-hearted detective. He held you at arm’s length, determined to not let the mask slip. But something about you got to him, and he found himself afraid of you. Afraid that he’d make a mistake, and that you would see right through him.

“Sonny, why do you do this job?” you asked one day while he was driving you home. It had been over a month since your father had basically assigned Sonny to you.

He tried to stay neutral, but you saw how he adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “’Cause it’s a job. I was hired.”

“That’s a bullshit answer and you know it,” you replied, smiling.

His jaw tightened. “Nah, see, when my boss tells me ta do somethin’, I do it.”

“You’re not like the rest, though. The others, I see murder in their eyes. They have such dark thoughts; it’s almost like they’re hoping my father gives them a kill order,” you explained. True, your father told you that they were security guards for his business, but you never bought that story; they were more like murderers than security. The day when Sonny kept you out of your father’s office was the first time you noticed that he was different; his eyes were soft, and he talked to you like a person, rather than making vaguely concealed threats. He seemed to genuinely care when you started to fake cry, even though you knew that he knew it was fake.

His bright blue eyes met with yours in the rearview mirror for a brief moment before flicking back to the road. “We don’t kill—”

“Stop lying to me, Sonny. Please. I deserve to know what’s going on,” you said, a slight begging tone in your voice.

So that confirmed it; you had no idea what your father was capable of. Sonny swallowed, wanting this conversation to end. “Talk ta ya father, not me—”

“I’ve tried! Multiple times! I’m not an idiot; I know he’s shady as hell. But just what are you protecting?”

“If he’s not willin’ ta tell ya, then that should tell ya somethin’, right?” he asked. He pulled over in front of your art studio, putting the car in park and getting out. You thought about his words; it was more than you got from anyone else. To be honest, Sonny always gave you more than anyone else; he didn’t sneer at you, ignore you, call you names like “brat”. And he definitely didn’t look at you with hungry eyes or creepy smiles. He seemed like…like a generally good person, all things considered. You weren’t sure when it had happened, but you noticed you had developed a crush on him.

All too soon, Sonny was opening the door for you to get out. You thanked him as you exited the car, and felt his presence behind you as you climbed the stairs to the door. He always walked you there, to make sure you were safe.

You unlocked and opened the door, then turned around to face him. He gave you a nod and you thanked him again. But something possessed you in that moment; why else would you have grabbed his shirt and pulled him to you in a kiss?

Sonny froze in place, eyes wide, before he placed his hands on your shoulders and pushed you back. You looked up at him, the apology dying on your tongue; you weren’t sorry at all. That kiss was worth it in your eyes. But there was an almost…pained? look in Sonny’s eyes.

“D-doll, we can’t—ya father—”

“Never has to know,” you finished for him.

He blinked, obviously warring with himself, and you were sure you knew why; if your father found out about you two, he could have Sonny killed. But, if Sonny felt the same way about you that you did about him, then maybe, just maybe, he could help you escape from under your father. Something about him was safe, trustworthy.

Slowly, you reached up to cup his face. When he didn’t pull away, you gently leaned in again, kissing him slowly, tenderly. He paused for only a moment before he melted against your lips. Then he gently pulled away from you.

“I—I gotta—” He didn’t finish his thought before he turned and hurried down the stairs. You watched him go, hoping that he’d say nothing to your father.

The car door slammed shut and Sonny was quick to turn the car on and leave. What the fuck was he doing, letting you kiss him? And then he kissed you back?! He must be a fucking idiot! Sure, he liked you—more than he was willing to admit—but this could blow his cover. Not to mention get him killed, cover blown or not. Plus, he was lying to you; any feelings you felt weren’t for him but for the façade he put on.

He resolved to keep his distance from you; nothing good could come from any of this. It ended in one of two ways: you, heartbroken over Sonny’s lies, or him buried six feet under in some lot. There was no way to disobey your father if he ordered him to take you home, so there was no avoiding you. Sonny would just have to lay down the rules next time he saw you; absolutely no relationship could exist, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

[kingsuckjin]

Ungodly Beast 3- epilogue

✞ Pairing: Devil! Jungkook x reader

✞ Genre: horror, fluff idk anymore

✞ Synopsis: You need to end this hell on earth.

✞ Warnings: death, gore, mention of burns, blood, talk of heaven and hell, the earth is on fire (I have to say that your child dies but it will all be okay, I promise it’s alright and it’s not as bad as you might think, just trust me.)

✞ Words: 2.3k

✞ A/N: I would put links here for the past two parts, but lately tumblr has been doing this thing where it wont let this fic show up in the tags if I put in links or tag anyone. They're on my masterlist though, I’m just very sorry for the inconvenience.

"Go my child, end this. Take all the power you need, and if you succeed I'll return the favor."

The flames around your bare feet had to be searingly hot, but they didn't hurt you, it didn't even singe or dirty the white you wore. 

The grass of the park was no more, and what lie under the flames was dry, scorched earth. The leaves had been burned from the trees, the trunks of which still smoked and trailed upwards towards the starless night sky. Glowing orange embers and ash fell all around you like some kind of twisted blizzard.

As you walked you saw the melted remnants of the playground you use to take your son to.

So this was hell on Earth.

It was just a shell of familiarity and home.

On your walk you could hear the sounds of police sirens and fire trucks, but it was much too late for them, everything was on fire.

Buildings, shops, offices, either up in flames or ash on the ground. You saw a car in flames explode, thankfully no one was in it.

There were people. People lined the streets, crying, confused, scared and burned.

An old man was laying on the street, his wife crying over him. She was so hysterical she didn't even see you approach, but when she did her jaw dropped at the sight of you, she begged you for help in another language, one you knew only bits and pieces of before and studied in your free time, but you now fully understood.

You said nothing as you looked over the man's burnt face before placing your hands over it, covering the freshly burnt skin. You closed your eyes and let your head fall slightly.

"My child, I will let you heal him, I will let you give the people hope. But you must hurry to find him before he causes anymore irreversible destruction. Stop him, and put the rest in my hands."

You nodded in agreement and opened your eyes and moved your hands. 

On lookers had gathered around you, both the woman and the man thanked you, but you had to go.

"Don't worry, just pray." You told them. You knew they were looking at your wings folded against your back as you walked on.

As you passed Namjoon's burning church you could see him clearly in your head, on his knees on the floor between the pews on prayer as he realized who was just outside right before it went up in flames.

You didn't go inside, it was too late for him, but you knew Jungkook and your son had to be close, you could feel it. You could see their trail of death, torment and destruction.

You closed your eyes and you brought on the rain.

The crack of thunder rolled through the sky before the downpour started, and though it rained around you, you remained dry. It was all you could do in an attempt to end the suffering of the people at the hands of this fire for now. You also wanted to prevent the risk of them making things worse when you found them.

To attract them you began to sing quietly, you sang the song in the language that Jungkook had sang to your son when he was just a baby. Though the lyrics didn't translate well, it was a song about peace and silence and it was in the world's first language. Even back then, you supposed, that parents just wanted their babies happy and they wanted to do right by them. You remembered Jungkook saying when you first met him that that was something he never understood, and still seemed not to.

You couldn't bring yourself to be mad at him, you pitied him. You pitied his lack of understanding towards humanity even with all of his new emotions. He didn't get to grow from a child, he didn't have surroundings or figure to help shape him. He couldn't never be a parent because he never had a parent figure, he was never a child, Jungkook just was. He had just been Jungkook all at once since the birth of time. He only knew being cast out of heaven, he only knew lies, he only new bitterness, revenge, and power. Jungkook only knew destruction and couldn't handle when you had created something for him, given life to something that was partially made from him. Jungkook wanted to own you and your children just like he owned the souls in hell. Even if you give a person emotions who wasn't taught right from wrong or how to be there for people, or how to not be selfish, they might feel guilty. However, they've already become set in their ways seeing as it's all they've ever known. It wasn't Jungkook's fault that he was given this eternal cold life, he never asked for this.

You understood vastly more than you did before, there was no fooling you now, you saw absolutely everything but one way you saw before never changed.

You loved Jungkook. You knew he would've loved you if he could've from the start. You were his soulmate, His Lilith, his reason for not being allowed to have emotions in the first place in fear of producing the Antichrist. Nothing could stop destiny, you knew this now. No matter what god took or gave to him, nothing could've stopped this. Even now as you found Jungkook holding your son's hand as he burns someone alive, this was destiny. Just like Noah's ark, god can cast out and call forth, he can teach lessons or make people forget.

So here you were, and here he was, in the middle of this burnt street. Neither of them saw you yet, but they were doing what destiny called for.

"Jungkook." You spoke his name for the very first time, catching both their attentions. 

"Mommy!" Your elated son tried to run to you but his father stopped him as he was stuck staring at you.

"You're…" his voice was almost inaudible with the roar and crack of the fires that were too big.

You unfurled your white wings from behind your back and stretched them out.

"You're home." 

"Mommyyy! Mommy back!” Your son yelled happily with a big smile on his face as he began struggling against his father and slipped out of his grasp. Your son ran the half of a block down the street and you could now see his horns were much larger now, and his eyes were black. His father screamed for him and began to run after him, telling him not to touch you.

You knelt down and let your child run into your open arms. You wrapped them around him and let him fall limp.

"I love you, everything will be okay." You told him as you picked him up and laid his body on the sidewalk. Much like a cross or holy water, your body itself could destroy anything Unholy, you were blessed from god himself, you were an angel.

"No… no! What did you do to him?! What did you do to our son?!" Jungkook screamed at you making the fire around you only burn more angrily.

"He felt nothing, God will return him to me." You stepped closer to him. "I came for you too."

"No. You're home, bring our son back and come home!" He demanded but you were no longer easily swayed.

"This isn't my home anymore, look what you've done to it." You answered calmly.

"I made this for us, I did this for you." 

You watched as blood began to leak from his eyes and mix with the water from the rain. 

"I know, I know you did. I know that there's no length you wouldn't go to for me, even your son. You mean well, you just don't understand. Just know I would go through any length for you and our family, and that's why I'm here. We both went through great lengths, we've both been through a lot, so come to me."

"You're tricking me, you're going to kill me…" he with his narrowed eyes aimed at you.

"You're in pain, Jungkook. It doesn't have to be that way. God still has time to fix this little isolated incident." 

"And hell? What happens to hell when I'm gone?" He asked. You felt he was about ready to give in, you knew it took everything in his power right now to not come to you and hold you.

"I think that's what destiny wanted all along,  no more hell. We were meant to be together Jungkook, and it's finally time. I'm not tricking you, I could never do to you what you did to me. Let's go get our daughter and son, let's be a family let's-" 

He began to walk towards you, falling to his knees at your feet and looking up at you.

"I don't know where I'll be going, but I'll follow you anywhere" you watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed nervously. "I just want you and my family, I want everything to be okay." 

You lifted your hand to his cheek as you looked down into his black eyes and brushed away the bloody tears from his cheeks only to leave red marks of your own. You had burned him with your touch, and he had flinched but didn't outwardly complain.

He stood and his face came just millimetre from yours.

"Just do it." He whispered before pressing his lips softly to yours.

You brought both of your hands up and placed them on his face and in a split second he went limp against you.

You struggled to gently lay him down on the pavement.

"I'm done. It's done. Fix it, please." You spoke out loud.

"Rest now my child. You've been through so much."

The sky began to grow brighter and brighter until it took over everything and you had to squint to see anything at all.

You were struck with the sudden urge to pee, but you were just too tired underneath your warm sheets. You groaned as you tried to go back to sleep but the feeling became almost unbearable.

You moved the blankets, sat up, and swung your legs over the bed, immediately feeling your back hurt. This action must've woken up the baby inside of you because you began to feel the heavy kicks from inside of your belly.

"I'm going, I'm going." You nagged at the unborn baby as you waddled towards the bathroom. "You better not kick me in the bladder again, girl." You warned.

When you were done you headed to the kitchen with new priorities, you smelled food. Lately just the thought of anything food related had you salivating and reaching for anything edible you could get you hands on, but that's just what being seven months pregnant did to you.

You walked through the doorway just in time to see a few pieces of scrambled egg fall onto the floor.

Your son looked down at it from the stool against the counter he stood on and so did his dad.

"Uh oh." You son said as he looked at you, holding a plate of the eggs.

"Morning darling. We're definitely not making a mess in here." Jungkook lied with a smile as you assessed the damage the boys had done to the kitchen.

"As long as you both clean it up I see no mess." You joked.

"Mommy! Breakfast!" Your son held the plate up proudly, spilling more eggs onto the floor, lucky Jungkook decided to take the plate away from the tiny little version of himself before picking him up with the other arm.

"Tell mommy good morning!" He placed the plate on the table before bringing your son over on his hip. Jungkook knew it was hard for you to bend over now a days.

Your son gave you a wet kiss on your cheek before his father knelt down with him.

"What about baby sister?" His father asked him.

The boy was careful as he gave your belly a hug and pat and told it good morning.

"Morning." Jungkook gave you a quick kiss on your lips before wrapping his arms around you.

"We missed you." He whispered into your ear. "You slept in late, must almost be time for her." He let you go so you could all sit at the table.

"I'm excited, but dreading having to through giving birth a second time. We missed church again because of me, didn't we?" 

"Father Namjoon understands you're too pregnant to function at the moment." He jokingly assured you. "I'm excited for her to get here already. I'll be right there with you, and little bub gets to spend time with his grandma. It's all planned out and you have nothing to worry about. Oh, by the way, I finished putting the crib up in the nursery finally." Even as he spoke about mundane things, there was a sparkle in his soft brown eyes as he looked at you, there were so wide with excitement and wonder, a trait he passed to your son. You would never get enough of him, you hadn't been able too since you met in grade school. You even found yourself missing him deeply to the point of tears during college. When you saw him again one night at a bar, the two of you just couldn't help it. You were confident that was the night you made your son together. You were once again inseparable as inseparable gets. He just stayed over every night after that night, which was good because you didn't want him to leave anyway. You were married just three months after that night at the bar. He wanted everything you wanted, he was the man you had always dreamed of, you had never loved any other person the way you did him. You had always had a connection with him, one you felt went far beyond when you met him as a little wide eyed boy asking to be friends. You knew, both of you did, that you were soulmates.You had always had been and always would be, in this life, whatever lives came before this, and in the next.

[chonko-the-simp]

As a member of the church who is asexual I face different challenges than the other members who identify as part of the LGBTQ+ community and it leads to me feeling excluded in some weird way because I don’t fit in with the ‘normal’ members who want to get married and start having kids asap but I also don’t face the discipline those who experience same sex attraction do. I just exist in this weird in between place where I’d still be looked down on but it’s for wanting to continue those same standards we have for before marriage after I’m married.

Like I’ve tried to talk with my mom about it. About how I don’t want to have sex have no interest in it and the thought of ever being pregnant repulses me beyond belief. The next day while sitting down as a family she goes on this whole speech about how being pregnant is the most amazing thing ever and the best thing you can ever do in life. I seriously felt like I was about to cry the entire time and I just had to hold it together while I had this sick feeling in my stomach. And like she even had the audacity to tell me that I won’t be able to live this way. That any man I meet is only going to marry me because they want sex and like does she not understand that is t what love is about. Sure it can be a part of live but it doesn’t have to be a part of love. Then there’s the “oh you just haven’t met the right person” line and like okay sure maybe I haven’t. But I also know myself and know how I feel and know that if I’ve felt this way as long as I remember even if I at first thought it was just cause I was 9 and had just learned about sex and it’s normal to think it’s gross. To this day I still think about that conversation and want to cry that my mom cannot see the value in love and a family past genetics and living the typical path everyone expects.

Then there’s the aspect where God has commanded us to reproduce and like I just don’t know how to handle it. I want kids I want to get married but who says they have to be my biological children. There’s so many kids out there who need good homes for someone to love them and care for them. But no that isn’t good enough, I have to bring more children into this fucked up world when I know perfectly well that I would rather provide a safe place for the ones who don’t have that currently.

I’m just tired and want to be able to live my life but also feel I have no right to complain since I can get married without getting my name erased from church records. No I don’t have it as bad as some but I have it bad in my own way where I’ll always looked down on as less for not wanting to have anything to do with this “gift” God has given us allowing us to have kids of our own

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Stop saying "it's not censorship if it's not the government"

If you think "It's not censorship unless the government does it," I want to change your mind.

It's absolutely true that the First Amendment only prohibits government action to suppress speech based on its content, but the First Amendment is not the last word on censorship.

Here are some kinds of private speech-suppression that I think most of us can agree are censorship: when the John Birch Society burned mountains of rock records and novels - or when Tipper Gore's PMRC pressured record stores to drop punk, metal and rap albums.

Or the Comics Code Authority, which signed up all comics publishers and retailers to block comics if they contained anything unfit for small children, which stunted American comics for generations while their European counterparts created entire sophisticated genres.

Or MPAA ratings, in which a secret group of censors (falsely described as frequently rotated, randomly selected parents - really they're long-serving studio insiders) decides whether movies get NC-17 ratings and thus be blocked from nearly every screen in the country.

(You can learn more about this from Kirby Dick's unmissable doc, "This Film Is Not Yet Rated," which documents both how the MPAA misleads the public about ratings, and uses them to block LGBTQ content)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/This_Film_Is_Not_Yet_Rated

Do those feel like censorship to you? They do to me. They share a common thread, too: monopoly. In each case, the number of retailers, producers, distributors, etc is small enough that if they collude to block something, it effectively vanishes.

Or the Inquisitions - which were not government censorship. The Inquisitions undertaken by Church officials, who were not part of any government - instead, they represented an unaccountable, transnational authority that governments were largely powerless against.

Does that sound familiar? Our media, speech forums, and distribution systems are all run by cartels and monopolists whom governments can't even tax - forget regulating them.

The most consequential regulation of these industries is negative regulation - a failure to block anticompetitive mergers and market-cornering vertical monopolies.

When governments fail to block the monopolization of speech forums, they're enabling censorship, just not in a way that violates the First Amendment, so we have no recourse and no transparency and no right of action when it happens.

https://locusmag.com/2020/01/cory-doctorow-inaction-is-a-form-of-action/

If we only call something "censorship" when it involves state action, then there's basically no such thing as internet censorship - not because speech is never suppressed, but because under that theory the First Amendment simply does not apply to the internet.

Social media is a duopoly. If neither will admit you, you can't use it. So you start your own site! Cloud computing is also clustered into a handful of companies (with AWS, a major military-intelligence contractor, running >50% of that business).

If they block you, you'll need to host your own server. The majority of data centers are also concentrated into a few hands, too. Oh, so are the domain registrars. And the payment processors. Also the anti-DDoS companies and CDNs. Search is run by one company.

How many companies need to collude to make it impossible for you to have a detectable internet presence? It's less than 50. And really, since losing any part of this stack can be a definitive blocker, it can be as few as two companies (mobile apps), or even one (search).

You won't be completely unlocatable - the Inquisitons didn't seek to snuff out every copy of banned works (indeed, they preserved many of them in their private libraries!) and the PMRC, Comics Authority and MPAA ratings board don't totally eliminate their targeted media.

But your speech will be marginalized and buried in ways that would be totally illegal if this were the result of state action. Only this speech is sidelined due to government *inaction*.

Ironically, the only corner of the networked world where the First Amendment gets a look in is city-run broadband services - the same services that conservatives who have newfound concerns about online censorship deplore as "government intervention in the market."

https://pluralistic.net/2021/01/17/turner-diaries-fanfic/#1a-fiber

40 years of antitrust malpractice created a situation in which censorship is up, speech is perilous, and the First Amendment doesn't apply in either case.

The answer is *not* to impose speech duties on private platforms.

"Fairness doctrines" are why the BBC spent years airing anti-vaxxers and climate deniers every time they had a story about why you should get vaccinated and vote for decarbonization.

Facebook and Twitter have demonstrated far worse editorial judgment than Auntie.

The problem with the tech giants isn't just their bad judgment, it's how consequential their mistakes are. Trying to improve the judgment of the tech companies is a fool's errand, a project without precedent. No one's ever convinced a monopolist to turn benevolent dictator.

If we can't stop the tech giants from making mistakes, at least we can reduce the consequences of their errors by making them smaller. Block mergers. Unwind mergers undertaken on false premises (like FB/IG/WA and Google/YT/Ad/Doubleclick).

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/07/dont-believe-proven-liars-absolute-minimum-standard-prudence-merger-scrutiny

Force interoperability upon them as the EU's Digital Services Act and the US ACCESS Act contemplate, then take away their right to block other forms of interoperability:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/10/adversarial-interoperability

And for god's sake, stop talking about CDA 230 as an answer to any of this. "You must moderate all your users" is a death sentence to anyone who *doesn't* have an army of moderators - anyone who might challenge FB and Twitter.

For Big Tech, a legal moderation duty is just an excuse to remove any speech that anyone anywhere might complain about: "Sorry we removed your anti-pipeline protest announcement, but we were worried we'd be sued if we didn't."

When the government censors, it's "unconstitutional censorship," but there are other forms of censorship that have always been with us and that we should all be concerned about.

When it comes to communications tech, competition policy is speech policy.