#christian bible references in my fic

[nine-blessed-hero]

A Wrong Turn but a Right Deed

CW: Single graphic depiction of a child's death This... is maybe not what anyone was expecting - least of all me. Triggered by this post by @groundrootvegetable. Tagging @hannah-heartstrings and @wispstalk as they expressed interest.

When Martin and his Hero leave Kvatch, it's by way of the sandy heathland at the city's back. It's safer, says the hero; the only dangers are desperate wolves come down from the Highlands. They walk for three days, meeting resistance neither from bandits, animals or terrain. It is only as they crest a small rise, the land falling away in a dramatic sweep and a salt-air breeze rising to meet them, that they realise something is amiss. Martin purses his lips. "Either Lake Rumare is significantly larger than I recall, or we have taken a wrong turn…" The Hero simply curses the Abecean's merry little waves.

Since they're here, Martin suggests going into Anvil. The Hero isn't happy about it, but supplies are needed. With Matius' cuirass rolled in the Hero's pack, they'll simply be a pair of refugees. The hazy mist burns away as they make their way down the cliffs, revealing a sky as clear and empty as the azure Abecean. Despite it being the end of summer, the air warms quickly around them, as if the Gold Coast hasn't quite gotten notice of the changing season. They trudge on with increasing stickiness, halting only when the lighthouse hoves into view.

The sands between them swarm with people. There's laughter and singing and sounds of splashing in the air. In the warm waters, older children frolic while elders swim sedately. On the beach, men play-wrestle and race while women help young ones shape the wet sands into crenelated forts. Their liveliness is incongruous with the horrors Hero and Priest have just witnessed. Both stand, dumbstruck, until a gull's harsh call prompts the Hero into action.

The Hero, eyes intent and wide, says, "You should wait here. There's too many people. We can't risk someone spotting you and commenting on it around the wrong ears." Martin ducks his chin, a pallor under the ruddy glow of his cheeks. "Here." The Hero manoeuvres him around the side of a boulder. "Sit here. You won't be visible, but you can see down the beach both ways. Don't talk to anyone. If you see someone approaching that doesn't look right, you run and hide nearby. I will find you." Martin nods dumbly, siting where he's told, eyes glazed. "And Brother Martin?" His focus snaps back to his Hero, unlooping some trinket from around their neck. "I will come back," the Hero says, pressing the trinket into his hand. Then, just like that, the Hero is gone. Ownerless footprints track away from him and there is nothing for him to do but settle back, watching the people of Anvil frolic from behind his stone barrier.

He's so engrossed with his watch, that Martin starts with surprise when, sometime later, a purple leather ball bounces along the sand, rolling to a stop on his side of the boulder. High voices call out and a child of around ten summers comes trotting after the ball. Lithe but short, dark hair and dark skin, he instantly reminds Martin of a child in the Kvatch congregation. "Hi," the boy grins. Martin's gore rises as he recalls finding his parishioner cloven in two, mere paces from his home. The boy frowns. "You okay there, mister?" Abruptly, Martin realises what he must look like, with blood smeared over his cassock. Heavens' forfend! – what he must smell like. "Yes. Thank you. I… was… helping deliver a child at one of the farmsteads." He smiles. "A healthy little girl. I'm afraid I may have dozed off on my way back to chapel." "Okay," the boy says.

He scampers off with his ball, and Martin thinks that will be the end of it. But no; the boy returns shortly with a flask. Shly, he holds it out. "It's Aloe and Watermelon. Nice and refreshing." Martin finds he has to blink several times before he can take it, his vision suddenly hazy. "Thank you, my child," he says, voice thick. "This is most kind of you." The drink is indeed sweet and refreshing – perhaps the best thing Martin has ever tasted. "S'alright," the boy says, kicking his heel. "Mam says you should always offer a hand to them as looks like they needs it. And you…" He goes shy again, waving a hand to complete his point. "Your mother is very wise, and raising a good son." Martin passes the flask back as the boy ducks his chin, colour rising in his cheeks. "Thanks. And, hey." The boy's head shoots back up with another grin. "If you need any help getting home, ours is the yellow and purple parasol. Just come ask for Lazarus."

[bfwonho]

thank god it saves recent searches

[batfambrainrotbeloved]

Hey so you know how you made Dick speak sanskrit in your fic? lives in my head rent free.

Why did he not speak romanian. how far back in the historical timeline was his clan(??? idk how to translate the word im thinking of into english but its “ନକ୍ଷ୍ୟତ୍ର”/ “ଗୋତ୍ର”) separated from the rest? How was it not prakrit? Were his parents just trying to reconnect to their roots? Did he learn it from his parents or was it learned while trying to connect with his roots? Does he ever realise that any songs and texts are all religious? Is HE religious with how many words in sanskrit straight up reference god?Does he feel alienated with how his culture is romani but his language is indian? Does he ever realise theres only one village in the world that speaks sanskrit as a native language and its over 13,000 km away? Does it get lonely realising that even damian’s knowledge of languages cant cover it?

Im sorry for ranting but my struggle to reconnect w my culture has me projecting HARD 😭

OH BOY- I have been avoiding some asks (because I haven't had the mental strength to give each the time and love response they deserves I swear im getting to yall) But THIS one was just far too good to pass (and im bored as hell in class)

I would say I do dive a little more into my headcanon culture stuff involving Dick and even Damien in Mama Bird (which again I REALLY NEED TO UPDATE)

BUT Let the rambling begin <33

Why does he speak Sanskrit in the fic vs any other language? Simply it was the closest language I could trace similar roots to Romani ancestery too that was easily acsessible dictionary/translator that I could use in my writings.

Canonically he probably WOULD speak a dilect of Romani or Prakrit etc, but in my desperate trying to look into the language and culture half of the resources I came upon were incredibly racist even for someone who had no idea about the culture before then.

How far back in the historical timeline was his clan??? (Clan/Tribe/Family are good english translation's) Im not familiar enough with Romanian clans to assign a specific one (Though from my understanding of research, The Grayson family would be desenced from Romani people lineages that used to reside in the Indus Valley region- yet another reason for the use of Sanskrit)

Were his parents just trying to reconnect to their roots? Did he learn it from his parents or was it learned while trying to connect with his roots? I havent thought into this TOO much, but i'll say as a headcanon that his family felt a great pride in their culture as some of the lucky few who could maintain their nomadic lifestyle with the circus. His Mother was probably less connected (only knowing from her grandparents sort of thing) and rediscovered her roots after meeting his Father who was VERY in tune with his culture.

And as such tried their best to reclaim those roots and share them with Dick. So yes he learned from his parents- but they were still fully connecting themselves.

Does he ever realise that any songs and texts are all religious? Is HE religious with how many words in sanskrit straight up reference god? This is more projection but as someone who grew up in the bible belt, (Translation- American southern region nicknamed "The bible belt" because of how ingrained the Christian Faith is in both religious practice and general culture) Dick is less belief religious and more culturally religious- he will use religious phrasing, have some habits/beliefs FROM religious background without being fully invested, and even some things he doesn't realize are heavily religious until pointed out.

Aka religious pratices in the way of how your mother would teach you to put knifes in the dishwasher upside down (so they wouldnt be as much of a hazard) but something you do because its how you were told instead of thinking about the WHY as much.

Does he feel alienated with how his culture is romani but his language is indian? Does he ever realise theres only one village in the world that speaks sanskrit as a native language and its over 13,000 km away?

Now this is more complicated, I don't know much about circus life (though I do actually have a friend I can ask so might change this later) But from what I know its a VERY mixed enviornment so Dick was both entrenched in his cultural lifestyle as a nomad with his parents proudly sharing their roots, while also being exposed to dozens of other cultures that were also "his".

Aka- Dick is an amalgamation of culture to the point he both belongs in more ways than most people could ever have, and yet feels completely isolated as a result since no one else understands why he gets upset when people wish him Happy Birthday early, why he always dumps the first steep of tea, why he "pays respects" to his bike and tools, why he sets aside food just to be thrown out, etc etc

Its nice, to be able to connect with people over so much, but at the same time it sucks when his family points out "weird habits" that he hadnt even realized were strange. (Thankfully after a few long talks, people stopped commenting on Dicks habits, anyone who does faces the wrath of the Batclan and just about every Hero from Metropolis to the edge of the Milky way)

Does it get lonely realising that even damian’s knowledge of languages cant cover it?

Actually Batfam DOES know some Sanskrit just by exposure of living with Dick. The one who knows the most is probably Alfred since he was the one dealing with the rambunctious kid who would get frustrated with instructions he didnt understand (and that frustration only getting worse for English being like 5th or so language)

None of them are anywhere near fluent though, but I like to think Dick has a pen pal/friends he practices with. Also because he's terrified of losing his proficency and in turn, losing another part of his culture his parents tried so hard to give to him.

And No need to apologize! Like I said, im an outsider looking in from a very different culture but I loved reading (what little good sources I could find) about this topic. Of course if you have any insights/comments/crituqes I would love to hear about them and thank you for the ask!!

[ghost-1-y]

Temptation

Angel!Mitsuri x AFAB!Succubus!Reader

Content Warnings: MDNI, dark content, sacrilege, blasphemy, religious themes, dubcon (aphrodisiac), manipulation, sexual content, dom!reader, sub!Mitsuri, unprotected sex, oral (reader receiving), scissoring, virginity loss (Mitsuri), corruption k!nk, praise k!nk, degradation, hair pulling, concepts of "purification" and "chastity", concepts of sex and sexuality being "dirty" and "sinful", slight mentions of blood (not in a sexual context), use of bible verses (in italics), references to bible passages/stories, people who are religious may find this content offensive, please read with caution

Summary: Mitsuri had always done what she was told to do, glorifying her god and helping those who needed it. She never once thought about breaking the rules – much less her vow to chastity, until she found what initially appeared to be a human in a darkened alleyway in need of help, unknowingly falling into a trap that would corrupt her from holiness for the rest of eternity.

Word Count: ~3.3k

Divider Credit: the wonderful @/benkeibear

A/N: so, I used to be religious (Christian), so a lot of this might've come out of my own personal traumas that I experienced (eg. the concept of purification and chastity and being ashamed of having "dirty" thoughts). Obviously, I no longer hold these views (as evidence by writing these fics LMAO), but that somewhat influenced how I wrote this fic, maybe some of y'all will be able to relate? I hope you enjoy!!

Let your light shine before them in such a way that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven.

Mitsuri loved the world, she loved humans and nature and all the beauty that existed in between. She would watch the sun rise upon the earth and how it would cast its rays upon trees and cities as life basked in its holy light.

She loved the night as well – how it brought tranquility and peace as those she watched over rested until the sun peeked over the horizon once more.

She sometimes wished that her light would not interfere with such serenity. 

But the world also saddened Mitsuri, she mourned as those she loved from afar returned to dust underneath grassy knolls; her heart broke as she witnessed fighting amongst nations and arguments amongst lovers. She knew that loving the world would bring grief upon her, because the world was infested with sin.

The world would never be perfect, yet she loved it anyways.

So Mitsuri spent her eternity by helping those who needed it – taking on a human form so others wouldn’t be afraid. She helped by working in food banks and soup kitchens – oh how she adored those humans who set such wonderful services up – and would afterwards walk along roads to give food to those who, for whatever reason, found such services inaccessible to them. She would volunteer in hospitals, helping the sick in whatever way she could, and would listen to their stories and offer comfort should they share their suffering with her, holding their hand in hers to offer support – however small. 

It was not a coincidence, then, that she caught sight of you, a human lying alone in a darkened alleyway, isolated from the bustling street that was doused in sunlight. You were covered in shadows to the point where it looked like darkness emanated from your body itself, curled up and alone – hiding within the stench of garbage and discarded roadkill.

Mitsuri approached you – her kindness limitless and unbounded by fear as her light blessed your shadowed figure, gentle and warm – a light that was neither blinding nor dim as you looked up at her.

“Are you alright, my love? My name is Mitsuri, I saw you here and wanted to help,” she smiled sweetly. It didn’t matter what language you spoke, since Mitsuri’s words would translate perfectly once they fell from her lips and graced your ears.

Burning lips and a wicked heart are like a potsherd covered with silver dross.

Teary eyed, you smiled up at her, “Thank you, I didn’t think anyone would come, but you’re here now.” Mitsuri’s gentle eyes looked over your condition, a cut on your forehead which was seeping a dark red, and smudges of dirt all over your body.

“Oh, love, let me get you cleaned up a bit!” Mitsuri exclaimed as she secretly materialized some cotton pads, pretending to fish them out of her pocket. She wiped the blood that was dripping down your face, “I don’t have antiseptic wipes on me, would you wait here as I go get them from a convenience store?” You nodded, staring past her shoulder. 

If Mitsuri knew any better, she would’ve thought you could see her wings. 

Mitsuri rushed across the street and bought the antiseptic wipes, more cotton pads, and a couple bottles of water before running back to help you. She knelt beside you, and began cleaning up your face. “You know, you should take better care of yourself,” she smiled softly as she wet the cotton pads with water and began wiping away the smudges of dirt on your skin. 

You said nothing, letting Mitsuri work on you. Once finished, she stood up and held out her hand, “Are you able to stand?” she asked.

You looked down at her hand and reached for it, slowly encasing it in yours, with your index finger pressing against the pulse in her wrist. A strange flush of warmth spread through Mitsuri’s arm and to her chest, causing a shiver to move up her spine. She shook her head, and helped you get up.

The warmth continued to spread and fester within her, and she couldn’t figure out why – you were human, or at least looked like you were. 

You gave her a saccharine smile, “I appreciate your help, angel, but I have to get going – I’ll see you around, no?”

Mitsuri’s eyes widened at the pet name you let slip – you couldn’t possibly know what she was – it was a coincidence, that’s all.

She who trusts in her own heart is a fool,

But she who walks wisely will be delivered.

Still, it caught her off-guard, and if she wasn’t flustered before, she definitely was now, slightly panicking despite knowing that humans wouldn’t be able to see her wings, or halo for that matter.

Mitsuri stuttered, “Of course, I– see you around.”

Days passed, and Mitsuri started to believe you’d fallen off the face of the earth – completely unable to sense your presence or soul. Yet, the warmth she felt from holding your hand did not fade – rather, it worsened, beckoning her to drag her dainty fingers along her stomach and downwards.

She shook herself out of it, but the heat lingered and pooled between her legs, so much so that it started to drip down her inner thighs – yet she wouldn’t give in to the temptation, she couldn’t – it was against everything that she was taught, everything that she believed.

Or were the beliefs forced upon her?

It wasn’t until after forty days and forty nights that she sensed you once more. It was early morning, so early that the sun had not graced its rays upon the world quite yet. You sat underneath a lamppost, its artificial light illuminating the bench beneath you, but oddly failing to reflect off of your own soft skin.

“You’re not human, are you?”

You looked up at her, a glint of mischief in your eyes as you shook your head. Standing up, you walked towards her, causing Mitsuri to take a hesitant step back.

“Don’t be shy, angel, I don’t bite – not unless you beg for it.”

“I– I’m not begging,” Mitsuri muttered, as though she were trying to convince herself more than anything.

Submit therefore to God. Resist the devil and she will flee from you.

You approached her once more, and she remained still. Taking her wrist in yours, you slowly graze your nails over the skin of her arm, tracing up and down as she spoke. Her cheeks were red, flushed hot with both the strange warmth that found its home within her soul and now the shame of actually seeking what she desired.

You both sat down on the bench, a shrub blooming with jasmine flowers alongside it – the rich scent flooding her senses as her eyes locked with yours.

Do not desire her beauty in your heart,

Nor let her capture you with her eyelids.

“Do you ever get tired of it?” you asked, fingers circling the pulse point on her wrist.

Mitsuri frowns, “What do you mean?” You take your other hand and place it on hers, tracing your thumb across her skin, sending butterflies into her stomach.

“I mean,” you started, “do you get tired of kindness? Of righteousness?” you questioned, “do you ever wish to know beyond those things?”

“Um…I–” she paused, swallowing thickly, “N-Not really?” 

It was a lie, and you knew that.

“Oh, well that’s too bad,” you pouted before leaning in towards her, “because I could show you things you’ve never even felt before, angel.” You glanced up at her, and you could see her eyes pooling with the desire to accept.

“I– I really can’t, it would– it would be against my nature.” An excuse, but a truthful one. If she consented, she would be damning herself – condemning her soul to the farthest reaches of hell.

It was something unthinkable for a being like her.

“Hmm, but nature changes over time, does it not?” you questioned, “if I’m not mistaken, I can see the want in your eyes. You desire this change, yet you won’t grasp for it. Why?”

“You– you wouldn’t be able to understand,” she stuttered, retracting her hands from yours as she formed fists with them in her lap.

“Angel, I think I understand more than anyone else,” you smirked, "to me, you seem lost – you're falling, aren't you, angel?"

You got up from the bench, eyes flashing a brief red as you looked down at her – causing Mitsuri’s breath to catch in her throat.

For the lips of an adulteress drip honey

And smoother than oil is her speech;

But in the end she is bitter as wormwood,

Sharp as a two-edged sword.

Her feet go down to death,

Her steps take hold in the house of it.

“If you wish for more than the mundanity of your everlasting life, you know exactly how to find me,” you told her, and before Mitsuri could look up at you once more, you were gone.

—

Mitsuri knew that it was wrong, she knew that it would go against her vows, her duties, her entire purpose, and yet – she found herself walking past that same alleyway each day, only peering into it out of curiosity before collecting herself and continuing on her way.

Until the seventh day, when she decided to stop in front of the alley, the sun beaming down on her as she stood just outside of it, as though the lined buildings on either side created a threshold that she couldn’t bring herself to pass. 

As Mitsuri peered into the shadows, she saw a figure stand up and walk towards her. She couldn’t look into the being’s soul – it was as though it didn’t have one at all. It approached her from the dark, and its silhouette depicted that of sharpened horns and a long tail which was pointed at the end. 

“Have you made up your mind, angel?” you asked sweetly, extending your hand past the threshold for her to take, “I promise, you’ll love how it feels to let go.” 

Mitsuri hesitated, but as she looked into your eyes, a fire ignited deep within her once more.

My child, if sinners entice you,

Do not consent.

It was all she needed to extend her own hand and place it in yours.

Shocks of electricity traveled up Mitsuri’s arm, much more intense than the warmth she felt before, it traveled deep into her gut, and her face flushed red as she was pulled into the shadows, fully enticed by you.

You pinned her against the wall, her back facing you. Her wings shuddered in excitement as you leaned in towards her ear, “I’m proud of you, angel,” you whispered, your breath hot against her ear, “I know how difficult it must’ve been to give in, I promise I’ll make it worth your while.” You grazed a finger along her left wing, nail lightly scraping against the feathers. She whimpered, her blush hot across her face as heat pooled in her stomach.

“I– I know you’re a–ah…” Mitsuri started, swallowing thickly before a soft moan escaped from her.

“A demon? Yes, angel, I am,” you chuckled, grabbing at her hair to pull her head back, “but I’m not here to hurt you, love, no, I’m here to make you sin.”

You turned her around and kissed her fervently, your lips sweet against hers. It felt euphoric, Mitsuri had never been kissed by anyone before – it was always said to open the doors to lust.

Then when lust has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and when sin is accomplished, it brings forth death.

However, she melted into your kiss, malleable and pliable – eager to feel more of it, the fire inside her being nurtured and stoked as you continued to kiss her innocent lips. You licked at her, and bit down on her bottom lip before parting – a string of saliva connecting her lips to yours, binding her into damnation as she uttered her next words.

“Please, I need more.”

You smirked, and leaned in towards her neck, licking a long stripe with your tongue before kissing just below her earlobe, with Mitsuri letting out tiny mewls and gasps every so often. You traveled further down her neck towards her pulse point. You left marks deep in burgundy upon her as she moaned into your ear.

“I love the sounds you’re making, angel, make some more for me,” you purred, bringing your hand down towards her heat, pushing aside the white linen to rub your fingers along her entrance. “Oh, you’re so wet for me,” you cooed.

“Nngh, n-noo that- that’s dirty,” Mitsuri whined, and you smirked.

“Trust me, you’ll learn to love feeling this way.” Your breath was hot before putting her into yet another searing kiss. She whimpered, but kissed back, slowly accepting her growing addiction towards them.

You circled her clit with your finger, and she whined, face flushed as she tried grinding onto your hand.

“That’s it, angel, take what you need, such a good girl,” you encouraged her, rubbing her clit slightly faster as she ground into you, a blushing mess as she did so. Mitsuri’s moans got progressively louder, loving the sensations once unknown to her.

“Mmh–! I– I feel strange…like something’s building up in me!” she whined, “what– what’s happening–!?”

You kissed her once more, quieting her, “shhh, angel, that’s a good thing, just relax and let it build up, okay?” She moaned again, grinding harder into your hand as she obeyed your words.

“I– It’s gonna–! I’m gonna–!” Mitsuri’s eyes rolled back, letting out a strangled moan as she came all over your hand, juices gushing into your palm as she rode through her orgasm, her hips undulating until she couldn’t take it anymore – quickly becoming overstimulated from the feeling of pleasure coursing through her veins.

“Too– too much! Can’t– no more!” she cried, tears falling down her cheeks. You licked at each stray teardrop, the saltiness of it coating your tongue as you stopped your movements with your hand.

“Such a good girl for me, angel,” you praised, and she hid her face behind her hands in pure embarrassment. You took her by the wrists and held them down.

“Don’t hide your pretty face from me, I want to see every last bit of your pleasure.” 

Mitsuri whined and asked “can you– can you do that again, please?” Her tone was so sweet, begging for more like a pathetic slut who has abandoned all of her morals.

However, you refused, “if you wish for more of that, you’ll have to please me, first.” Mitsuri looked at you, confused, before you shoved her down to her knees, her face in line with your hips – the pretty lingerie you were wearing disappearing in an instant before you took her by the hair and pulled her towards your weeping cunt. “Make me feel good, angel, and I might consider actually fucking you this time.”

Mitsuri’s eyes dropped from your face down to your pussy, admiring how sweet and juicy it looked.

When the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, she took from its fruit and ate.

So, she went entirely off of her own instinct as she brought her mouth to your heat, before licking at the wetness of it with her tongue. The sweetness of it coating the inside of her mouth like syrup; Mitsuri had never even thought of committing such lewd acts before, but now that she’d gotten a taste, she couldn’t help herself.

She started off shy, with kitten licks and tentative kisses on your clit. She may not have experience in giving pleasure, but she was there in the beginning when humans, angels, and devils alike were all created in the same image, and so she knew the insides and outs of their bodies unlike any other.

Her tongue delved deeper into your cunt, licking up any juices that seeped out of it, earning soft groans and grunts from you as you pulled at her hair. She adored your taste – it was addictive, a taste that she would gladly sin for if it meant she could feast upon it for the eternity of her damnation.

Her lips pursed around your clit before sucking gently, your eyes rolling back as she looked up at you. She whimpered, wishing you’d make eye contact with her and tell her she was doing such a good job – instead only receiving a few strokes through her hair as you thrived off of the pleasure that her mouth was giving you. Her own cunt was weeping, the heat from her abdomen becoming unbearable as she continued licking you up with her tongue – so much so that she reached down between her legs with her fingers, but before she could provide herself even the slightest bit of relief, you yanked her by the hair.

“You think you can touch yourself without my permission? Think you’re allowed to make yourself feel good? No, angel. Only I am allowed to do that. Any and all pleasure you receive, any and all sin that you commit, will be caused by me – for my sake.” You leaned down closer to her, breath hot against her face, “do you understand me?”

Mitsuri nodded, only to wince as you gripped her hair tighter.

“Say it.”

“Yes, I– I understand,” Mitsuri spoke softly as she removed her hand from between her thighs. 

“Good girl.”

You pulled Mitsuri up once more and, in an incredible display of flexibility, she raised her right leg so that it pointed up toward the sky, with you supporting her by holding her up by your hand. 

“Hah– you’re no angel, are you? Angels don’t act this way, y’know– you’re just a pathetic little slut, a pleasure-seeking whore that can never get enough,” you panted, before mounting your foot against the wall so your cunt was flush against hers, grinding against her wet heat. You grabbed her by the jaw and forced her to look at you. 

“What are you, hm? Tell me.”

“I– I–” she whined, “I’m– ‘m your slut…oh shit, ‘m your slut!”

“That’s right, you’re nothing but a stupid cumslut, aren’t you? Raised to be holy and perfect, but look at you, drunk on lust all because some demon tempted you. How pathetic.” 

Mitsuri whined as you ground into her, feeling absolutely no shame as she condemned herself further with each movement of your hips. The familiar tension in her gut started to build up once more as she took everything you gave her.

“Nngh– it- it’s happening a-ah– again!” she moaned, and you ground against her faster.

“That’s it, slut, cum all over my cunt. Sin for me.” 

Mitsuri’s thighs trembled as her orgasm flooded through her in waves, her mind addled with euphoria and lust as her pussy gushed all over you, her moans so raw and unbridled as she allowed you to claim her as yours, knowing she will never find pleasure like this through anything or anyone except you.

You are my God, and I give thanks to You;

You are my God, I extol You.

“My– my God,” she panted, “you– you are my God.” She knew it was blasphemous, yet she didn’t care, for she found a new being to worship, to love and to praise as she damned herself for the rest of eternity, certain that she would choose this over holiness in every lifetime if given the honor to do so.

For Yours is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever. 

Amen.

Taglist: @oreo-creampie, @k-a-t-h-r-i-n-a, @wow-im-gay, @peanutpunchy, @love-me-satoru, @crazycatlddy, @pastelbluecloudy3, @dinosaur-crime-scene, @thisbicc, @gojoscumslut, @bisexuawolfsalt, @everyonesfinaldestination, @leehoonii-i, @kyojurismo, @briefrebelfanalmond, @izuoyarmin, @ahashiraswife, @d1gitalbathh, @homo-homini-lupus-est-1701

(If your name was crossed out, it means tumblr didn't allow me to tag you - apologies for the inconvenience)

I hope you all enjoyed!!! 💕

[scaryanneee]

today im thinking about how Cazador referring to Astarion as his "prodigal son" sort of accidentally implies that christianity or at least jesus and/or the bible exists in the Forgotten Realms lmao

because "prodigal" actually means abundant, lavish, spending excessively, etc.

but obviously this is not what cazador means in this context, so we go to the second meaning

but THAT meaning only exists because of the popularity of the Parable of the Prodigal Son (who returned after recklessly spending money)

a parable which was famously told, in the bible, by jesus. therefore cazador exists in a world where the bible also exists lol

THE END thank you for coming to my ted talk (and yes, I say this as someone with a bg3 fic of the same name. I know I KNOW)

[bug-decal-kissing]

Hey friends!

A new work, Genesis by orphan_account, was published today, with 1/1 Chapters released! It has a rating of General Audiences and Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, with additional tags "Wrath of the Wishmaster, Centipede Milking, Nirmata Post-Canon, Brilysis is canon, Nirmata Bible, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Bible Study (Christianity), Not Canon Compliant, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fear of Death, Religion, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Heavy Angst, Worldbuilding, Happy Ending, Non-Graphic Violence, Unhealthy Relationships, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, cosmic gore, Kid Fic, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional Roller Coaster, Joys of the Wishmaster, ProhibitedWish"

You can read it here:

IT'S THE BIBLE: OOO EDITION

Light! Camera! Action!, by SL_22, was updated today, with 10/? Chapters released! It is Not Rated and Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, with additional tags "Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Deviates From Canon, Homophobia, Falling In Love, Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Idiots in Love, Humor, all people, overtime, Office, Friends to Enemies, Enemies to Lovers"

You can read it here:

AEROPLANE MOMENT !! Prismo is unprepared as usual/silly The homoerotic tension is PALPABLE in this chapter !! I LIKE IT/pos And now that Scarab's room is flooded it looks like,,, :0 there will only be,,, one bed,,, MWAHAHAHAHA

NSFW works are below the cut :].

A new work, I Will Bury You In Time by tavgr0ss, was published today, with 1/1 Chapters released! It has a rating of Explicit and No Archive Warnings Apply, with additional tags "Shapeshifting, Trans Prismo, Trans Scarab, Trans Male Character, Porn with Feelings, prismo needs a hug, scarab needs a hug too though, t4t relationship, Vaginal Sex, Strap-Ons, Vibrators, Cunnilingus, Aftercare, lots of cuddling afterwards, human scarab, human prismo, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Consent, but they also kinda switch it around in the end???, Songfic, kinda just lil references to the lyrics"

You can read it here:

WAAAAAAAGH THEY LOOOOOVE EACH OTHER Prismo just wanted a hug a lot of hugs 🥹Now they'll be emotionally (and physically) intimate :]c Shaking the bars of my enclosure they lOVE EACH OTHER <33333

[50shadesofoctarine]

AO3, let's have a talk.

This is a normal greeting amongst friends in their context but I wondered...

And, unfortunately I was right.

Welp, let's sort by kudos and see what the best Jesdas fic is...

I.... I don't know what I was expecting...

Are you okay??? Who bookmarked this????

Who was writing this stuff in 2009??????

... I suddenly understand why people have bookmarked this...

The prose??? The actual biblical ramifications???

Like this is actually how Judas felt:

(Matthew 27:3-5)

How does this BIBLE FANFICTION have better characterisation than like 99% of the Christian New Testament retellings.

A brilliant reference to Peter's denial.

(Matthew 26:74-75)

Removing the sexual context, this fic is surprisingly canon compliant. (Before you get upset at me using terms like canon to describe the Bible: Biblical canon was the first kind of canon. Source.)

I need to meet the person who wrote this. The characterisation of Jesus is very true to the text. My only comment would be, if you're going to call Him Jeshua, go the whole hog and use Yeshua (it more closely resembles G-d's name, and thus gets the whole "G-d is with us" meaning across better.)

Although, I suppose I should be objecting to the whole Jesdas thing, if I'm going to be critiquing this fic's accuracy.

Ouch.

How dare this make me feel these feelings???

The comparison between Judas and Judea is very well done. I have seen actual preachers fumble while making that correlation... Despite, well, everything, this fic handles Biblical arguments very sensitively.

Extremely blasphemous... But weirdly... Sincere?

It calls to mind Psalm 100:

Make a joyful noise, it never specifies tuneful.

Likewise, this feels genuine in a way that megachurch pop-songs aren't. I'm not sure if the person who wrote this is a Christian (my money is on ex-Christian tbh) but who am I to police how you praise the LORD. This is a work of love, no matter in what spirit it was intended. There is care and precision here, and while I find it shocking and odd, who's to say that it wasn't an earnest expression of faith.

Holy shit, this was a wild read though.

Congrats, Liriaen. Keep up the good work:

If you are braver than me, this is their AO3 account:

[frischkasekuchen]

Dreamtalia Carrie AU - Blood of the Covenant

Credits:

Nevo, Dreamtalia and its characters by kyokyo866

Carrie by Stephen King

Content Warnings:

Swearing

Religion/Christianity

Religious Abuse

Child Abuse

Homophobia (slurs are used)

References to smoking

Starring:

Reve and World as Carrie White (Reve Faucher and Nicholas Major)

Nevo as Margaret White (Nathan Major)

(Author's Note: I spent Lent and partway through Easter working on this fic. This is for the 50th anniversary of Carrie. Beta read by my sister. Please remember to thank Tabitha King for making sure Carrie's story was told and kickstarting King's career. )

 "And, ye fathers, provoke not your children to wrath: but bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord." - Ephesians 6:4 (King James Bible)

If it wasn’t worth it, if it wasn’t for his only friend, he’d never do this. If the boy didn’t think there was more to life than prayer, the day of Judgement, and papa- he would happily rot in these four walls till some other horrible disaster came.

(tonight)

The word bounced around his head. 

(i am not afraid of him)

Nicholas, for the first time in his life, was going to do something worse than just say fuck under his father’s roof. Something worse than 

(of whom shall i be afraid)

sharing a quarter cigarette with Reve that one evening. But there was that rising nausea, like the same urge to vomit when he first tasted sin- nicotine.

(she gave of me the tree, and I did eat)

Anxiously, 

(flex)

Nicholas made his pocket change swim in the air around the ceiling light, like sharks circling a lone surfer.

“Nicholas!” Papa called, causing him to shoot up from his bed and drop the coins. “Reve has come over for dinner, come downstairs!”

“Coming!”

The boy looked in the mirror. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders the way Alfred does- minus the boisterous, prideful laughter that accompanied the stance. Nicholas marched downstairs, like a soldier to a battlefield.

—

(it was a dark and stormy night)

As Reve surveyed the dinner table one could most definitely compare it to a battlefield. Despite the polite conversation he had with Mr. Major

(what is your favorite proverb)

the air was thick with tension- the boy might as well cut it with a knife so he could breathe a little. 

Things began to escalate when dessert was presented at the table. Nicholas’ father divided a blueberry pie among the three. Its filling looked thick and slimy, with cane sugar crystals. Fresh, bulbous blueberries were packed together and nestled in the crust. 

When Reve took a bite of his share, he puckered his lips. The pastry was too sour and too sweet all at the same time. “It’s great!” Reve said.

However, Nicholas wasn’t having any of it, literally. He just twirled his fork in his right hand, while his left was scratching his pant leg.

“This is new.” Mr. Major said, “You haven’t touched your pie.”

“It makes me have breakouts.” Nicholas answered firmly, pushing the plate away from himself.

Mr. Major let out an ‘I-know-better’ sigh. He pushed the plate back towards his son. “Pimples are the Lord’s way of hindering pride.” 

“Maybe it’s a Sign I should lay off the sweets.”

Reve jumped in an attempt to de-escalate the situation. “I-I wouldn’t mind taking his share! I have a sweet tooth after all.” Personally, it was in the boys best interest to keep the man placated. 

A pregnant pause.

“Actually,” Reve chimed in once more with an eager grin, “Nicky and I have something important to tell you!”

Mr. Major’s eyebrows raised and he hummed in expectation.

Nicholas looked like a deer in headlights, it was as if he forgot what this dinner was for. The boy’s wide eyes told Reve ‘I can’t do this’.

Reve locked his pinky with Nicholas’ own under the table. 

(im here)

It seemed to say.

“Reve and I…”

(spit it out be a man)

“Have been invited to prom!”

The man froze as though struck by the lightning outside. “Prom.” Mr. Major muttered in horror.

“I’m going to support Reve and-” Nicholas gulped for air a moment, “The coach thinks this could be good for us because, y’know, we’re growing up- and stuff.”

The man’s lips moved but neither boy heard what came out his mouth.

Nicholas pressed on, “V- Mr. Bazarov and Ludwig bought us tickets- so you don’t have to spend a cent.” 

“No.” Mr. Major’s voice raised to an audible volume.

Nicholas began a tangent, “People think we’re- Reve and I- are weird, and not the good kind- the bad kind. And I think we need to learn, to- well- get along with everyone else, before it's too late-”

Nicholas was promptly doused with tea as his father threw it across the table. Some of it got onto Reve’s shirt. Fortunately for the two it was lukewarm. Nicholas sputtered and sniffled quietly.

Reve placed his palms on the table to stand up and voice his outrage-

But Nicholas placed a hand on his knuckles and gave a faux-reassuring squeeze. Reve sat back down. Nicholas’ hand stayed

(i just need you here)

right where it was.

“Go to your closet.” the man snarled.

“I haven’t done anything wrong.” Nicholas protested.

“After all you’ve been taught- you fraternize with a sodomite?”

“He isn’t a bad person, Papa.” Nicholas muttered as he scrubbed tea out of his eyes.

“The moment you stepped into that shower room-” The man heaved a heavy breath, “You exposed yourself to him, those boys- that filth. And even after you were punished for the Sin of Lustful Thoughts- you went back for more.”

“It-” Reve whimpered in a small voice, “It isn’t like that.” No one heard him.

(my siblings arent bad people im not bad am i)

The man shot out of his seat and thundered over to Nicholas. He gripped the boy’s forearm as though he were a chew toy. Mr. Major’s face appeared disturbingly enchanting, with his blue eyes framed by stringy, pink hair.

(this is too much too mu)

“Come to your closet and pray.”

“I haven’t done anything wrong.”

The man raised his hand to strike at Nicholas. The boy seemed resigned to what would come next.

Reve spent a good quarter of his life just…watching Nicholas be treated like everyone’s ragdoll. But remaining seated as his own father did the same? That was just too much.

The sound of Reve smacking away Nathan’s hand was almost as ear shattering as the sudden thunderclap.

Nicholas looked dumbfounded. The man looked offered. And though he was terrified, Reve stood between father and son.

“Don’t you hit Nicky!” Reve shrieked. “He’s your son- he doesn’t deserve that!”

“You have no right to-”

“I do! He’s important to me!” 

Nicholas had doubted that Reve cared. He thought they were only friends of circumstance, but he’d gone and said that. “Reve…”

Reve was shoved and he slammed against the kitchen counter. 

“Reve!” Nicholas ran over to his side, and shot his father a glare.

“Nicholas.” Papa said in a hushed tone. “Tell that man no.”

“I already said I was going.” Nicholas countered as he got Reve to his feet.

“Then tell him you’ve changed your mind!” Nathan nearly hollered. “Or we’ll move! Move somewhere you’ll never see that boy or that teacher again!”

“No- I won’t!”

“That’s final.” Mr. Major walked away as though he had the last word in. 

“I’m not done!” Nicholas screamed.

“I have to close the window. The rain’s getting in the house.” he marched to a nearby window.

“I’ll get them- just please talk to me!” 

And Nicholas flexed. 

At that moment, Reve felt the house shift. Every window slammed shut, even the one upstairs, and the one Mr. Major was going to close and nearly crushed his fingers. 

A large knife dangled inches away from the man’s face as he cowered in a corner.

Nicholas’ fingers flexed and twitched like a malfunctioning machine.

Reve put a hand on Nicholas’ shoulder. “Nicky,” he murmured, “put the knife down.”

Nicholas breathed a staccato of inhales and exhales through his nose.

Reve wrapped his arms around Nicholas’ shoulders, leaned close to his ear and whispered, “Please put that knife down, Nicky.”

The knife fell to the floor

(not worth it hes not worth it)

with a clatter.

“Witch.” Mr. Major breathed. “Devil’s power.”

Nicholas was sniffling, but without any doubt in his mind he said: “The devil’s got nothing to do with this. It’s me- me.”

“And it’s- he’s amazing.” Reve huffed.

“Nonsense.” Mr. Major rose from his crouch. “The devil is cunning. He gives you things- he tricks you- you know what he did to your mother-”

Nicholas chuckled with mirth. “She ran away, Papa.” 

“She was seduced, she vanished into the night-”

“She ran away. Everyone knows that.”

(she knew she knew you were)

Reve put a hand over his mouth; Nicholas’ life was revealed to be more of a hellhole with every new fact he learned about his friend.

(can anyone tell me what abandonment means)

Nicholas sighed, “And I don’t wanna talk about these things anymore.”

(just wanted to talk like how all the other kids do with their)

Reve looked to Nicholas, his father, and then back to his best friend again. 

“Are ya really sure you wanna go to prom? You don’t gotta go just for me.”

Nicholas smiled at him through the tears, the tea and nodded. He gripped Reve’s hand in his “We’re going.” Nicholas looked at his father. “We’re going to prom.”

And that affirmation is what sealed the boys’ fates.

—

Reve opened his umbrella and stepped out of the doorway.

“Have a good night, Reve.”

Reve nearly stepped off the porch. Instead, he whipped around to face Nicholas. He didn’t notice at the time, but he was crying. “Please- please promise me- that if I leave you alone with him, you’ll still call me in the morning.”

Nicholas was confused, but gave him a grin. “Of course, why wouldn’t I?”

“People like him- they- what if he-” Reve’s trembling lips stopped that track of words.

(no no i cant say it)

“Papa won’t do that.” For some reason, Reve felt like the other boy was lying through his teeth. “Things are gonna change around here.”

“Saturday night?” Reve sniffled.

Nicholas cupped Reve’s cheeks, stood on his tiptoes, and kissed away Reve’s tears.

He pulled away. “Saturday night.”

Reve nodded, turned away, and found the courage to drag his feet away from the Major bungalow and walk home.

(Author's Note: Sorry if this piece was heavy- the Carrie AU is kind of a personal story to me (aka mad projecting). I just really wanted to do something for a Stephen King anniversary because both his novels and Dreamtalia itself have carried me through tough times. Thank you for reading.)

(P.S Shout out to anyone who got the Utena reference)

[runawaymun]

Hey, I'm really sorry if this ask comes across as hostile, but due to recent experiences with another Tolkien fan, I do feel like I need to ask. In the tags of a recent post you reblogged, you mentioned being Christian. I know that there are many Christians who are kind, loving people who embrace the queer community, including trans people. But unfortunately, I also know there are a lot of Christians who don't. I would prefer to not follow someone who thinks I and people like me are evil simply because of who we are, or who try to pull that 'love the sinner hate the sin' crap. I am not saying that you are one of those people, but I have unfortunately encountered enough of those types of Christians (even in fandom spaces) that when someone says they are Christian, it makes me nervous. I understand my own religious trauma is my issue and I need to work through it, but I would still like to know how you feel about the queer community, as I greatly enjoy your fic and art and would like to continue enjoying your fic and art. Obviously you don't have to answer this ask and regardless of your answer you shouldn't be attacked. Sorry for rambling and I hope have a good day.

Hi there!

No I really appreciate the ask and I get it. I am glad you’re taking initiative to keep yourself safe and curate your online experience. I have a huge boatload of religious trauma myself from my upbringing so when I say I completely understand, please know that I really do.

I’m openly GNC bisexual myself & a trans & nb ally and a member of the queer community who writes a lot of ragingly gay fanfic and l am also a member of the Christian faith. I grew up raised extremely evangelical and am not anymore. I just read the Book, do my own religious practice, believe in God, and try to be active in the little Lutheran church I sometimes attend because Church community is important to me and I’m fortunate to have finally found a church community that is both a safe place for me as an openly queer person & also has sound doctrine and theology. It was a long road to finding one because I’m not willing to compromise on either of those lol.

I spent a long, long time decompressing from my upbringing and unpacking my religious trauma (therapy!!), and came to the conclusion from studying the book & long prayer & discussion with other queer Christians that God Is Not Small. The Church’s historical and current hatred toward queerness is a manufactured product of Man, not God. I’ve spent years studying all of the classic “bludgeoning passages” that are brought up to go “see!!!!!!! See the Bible says it’s a sin!!!!!!!” And found through linguistic study and intersectional doctrine that, actually, no those passages have nothing to do with people in consensual, healthy, committed queer relationships. The Bible has nothing to say about trans people or enby people either. It has a lot to say about how we are all unique and diverse and made imago dei, that we are loved — and that is the truest thing about us. Again: God is not small. God does not have a gender. The Bible even makes references to God having a womb in some poetry and prophecy chapters (metaphorically, but the point being that God is not “male”). Jesus never married. Paul was arguably ace. Jesus healed a gay centurion’s boyfriend and told him “go in peace”.

Sorry, I’m rambling too!!! TLDR: I am a proud member of the queer community and I am Christian and I don’t believe those things are antithetical. I’ve experienced a lot of pain at the hands of Christians, but never from the hands of God — only love and comfort. And I am fortunate and extremely grateful to finally have friends and a church community who strive for Christlike behavior and agree with me that God Is Not Small, and that God’s love is infinite and diverse. We’re made imago dei— so why should we be any different? 🫶

Hope this helps clarify and again I appreciate the ask. I really wish you well on your healing journey with your religious trauma and whatever that looks like for you. I hope you have peace 💕 and if you ever want a friend who Gets It I’m happy to chat and I’m here 💕

[articskele]

Yall I just gotta spill my incoherent rambles about Its Name Was Cesar Torres because GRAAAAHHHHH

Spoilers under the cut!

I saw one post that was like “Ok but which would be more fucked up: the alternate killing Cesar while wearing the face of his mom, or vice versa?” And this fic gave us a third and even more devastating option holy shit-

“Picking up the receiver, it paused before pressing at the shapes in the pattern it knew would make Cesar Torres’ friend speak.”

DO YOU REALIZE HOW MUCH I LOVE THIS LINE.

Understanding the how but not the why, having the knowledge but not the experience, the inhuman detachment of it all. One small detail that betrays its whole state of being right now: An imitation.

And don't even get me started on the headcanons for how alternates work bc they're so FASCINATING

The way alternates just. Absorb? Things? To take on their form? One of the comments mentioned the alt wearing Cesar's corpse like a parasite and AOUGH

The way emotions have taste- Altsar's initial plan to understand pain just so it could make Mark's suffering that much better to savor- It's just the sheer embodiment of their nature as entities of consumption, born into a state of empty eternity

The way alternates have no personal stake in the war and are just doing what they do best because they can- The way alternates can't die and are just cast back into the void from whence they came, only delaying the inevitable-

Pfffft Mark walks in and just sees Altsar like 🧍 aksjdalkfh- Not a single thought between those eyes dude

Mark with the chewed up fingernails he just like me fr

THE BIBLE REFERENCES THE BIBLE REFERENCES OUGHHGHGHH HOLY SH IT

I don't even know why I love em so much they just make me FERAL- OK BUT THAT SCENE IN CHAPTER 2 WITH MARK RECITING THE FUCKIGNF PSALM AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

BRO IS CLINGING. HOLDING ON FOR DEAR LIFE SOMEONE HELP HIM. GO CHRISTIAN BOY GO!!!! Voted God's little lamb most likely to be slaughtered-

THE PANCAKESSSSS. WHAT IF I CRIED. A glimpse of silliness in the storm, and Altsar fuckin grinning from ear to ear (perhaps literally lmao-) I love that and I want them to be ok in the end-

Can we talk about the deer alternate. Can we tALK ABOUT THE FUCKING DEER AAAAUGHH

They had us in the first half not gonna lie with the Mark fakeout- The way I slapped my hand over my mouth like "WUH? HUH??"

AND THEN ALTSAR, OVERWHELMED WITH RAGE, STRIKING THIS ABOMINATION WITH ALL OF ITS THEIR MIGHT. AND YET IT JUST KEEPS TALKING. WORDS DRIPPING FROM ITS SLACKED JAW LIKE SALIVA. WHY WON'T IT STO P.

The moment Altsar realizes he's gotten way in over his head past the point of no return- The constant change of it to they to he, struggling with newfound humanity and unable to see where the alternate ends and the dead man begins. Is there even a difference anymore?

The whole warm and cold thing..... Mark taking Altsar's hands into his and bandaging his its wounds..... Injured. Broken. Both of them living a lie for as long as they can.

AND CAN WE JUST APPRECIATE THE WAY EVERYTHING COMES TOGETHER AT THE END:

The Mary statue and the deer alternate coming back

Mark's righteous fury framed by the shards of the Evangelist

The change from ¬ Shoot me, Mark Heathcliff. I am not what you think. ¬ to ¬ Don’t shoot me. I'm not what you think. ¬

Altsar finally experiencing pain, only for it to be at the hand of his best friend. Bleeding out as he screams for the one thing he just can't go without.

“It hurts, Mark. It hurts.”

IT'S JUST SO!!! GODDDDDDDDD. WHAT IF I CRIED. WHAT IF I TURNED INTO A LITTLE PUDDLE HUH. WHAT THEN.

I just. I struggle to find the words to describe how much I adore this fic, yall. If you were to look in my brain you would just find that one video of the guy shouting "HEEEELP. HEEEEEEELP. HELP MEEE." with the most expressionless face-

I like this fic. I like it a whole lot. And I can't wait to see what comes next ouo

[londonfoginacup]

The mythological symbol of a ladder extending from Earth to heaven appeared in a dream to Jacob, son of Isaac. The icon of a cosmic stairway on which angels move up and down between the earth below and Yahweh at the top is recorded in the Hebrew bible. Within the major world religions, the image of the sky ladder is little more than a vestige of a motif that played a far more prominent role in ancient cosmologies worldwide. You don't know your bible.

(Note: religion and theology talk ahead)

Ex… Excuse me??????? I wake up to THIS?? Anon what. WHAT.

“You don’t know your Bible” oh my god I have never felt so insulted. I don’t fall for anon bait usually but jfc you’ve found my weak spot. WHAT. Are you really trying to imply that my funny little Daylight/Late Night Talking fanart was in reference to JACOB’S LADDER?

(Screencapped like this to make it smaller)

What. Do you think I am unaware of the theological interpretations of Jacob’s Ladder? The ladder that Jacob saw in a dream/vision while fleeing from Esau? Are you trying to make me aware of the many interpretations of Jacob’s Ladder, anon, that perhaps it’s referring to the many exiles of the Jewish people (I lean toward that one), or that it signifies the bridge between Earth and heaven (as Jacob was likely on Mount Moriah at the time), or perhaps that it’s a representation of the personal struggle with sin over a lifetime, the way one ascends and falls? Is it a representation of the covenant between God and his people? Or even the Islamic interpretation, which I do not pretend to know nearly as much about, that the ladder represents the straight and narrow path? Or, as you refer to the Bible, I assume you are looking for the common Christian interpretation where this ladder is God bridging the gap to Man, unlike when Man tried to do the opposite with the Tower of Babel, now Jesus himself is the ladder, as he himself states in John 1:50-51?

Anon. ANON. You come to ME about religion? Would you perhaps like to see the photo I took MYSELF of the Jacob’s ladder that climbs the side of the cathedral in Bath? (Trick question you can’t because I’m at work and it’s on my home computer)

Well first of all I’ll have you know that the art I made was based off of this post “second mv now where he's coming from the sky...”. Like??? I was doing art based on the symbolism of Harry’s videos. Come on. If this was a ladder ascending to the heavens, Harry would be a HELL OF A LOT HIGHER UP. PLANES FLY HIGHER THAN THAT BOY. I assume that the vision is more of him creating a separation for himself, of coming down to interact with the world and ascending back to safety. Also, if anything, I would look at the art I made and deduce a sort of princess and the pea idea from it. A stranded princess sleeping atop an offered bed while people around watch to see if she really is the princess she says she is, waiting for her to fail at the tasks given her, an audience intent on hoping she will miss the pea under her heaven-high stack of mattresses, or hoping perhaps that she’ll just fall off the ladder.

Anon. NOTHING in this art was biblical allegory. And if it was? You would be able to tell! I am not subtle with my allegories!

Perhaps you would like to read my Christmas fic Unto You in which I wrote the story of the birth of Christ as an a/b/o fic set in Victorian England where Harry is Mother Mary. IS THAT SUBTLE ENOUGH FOR YOU?

Or, actually more subtle, my Big Bang fic Through a Mirror Dimly the title of which references 1 Corinthians 13:12 “For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known.”‬ ‭(ESV‬‬ version), in which I use that verse in reference to the darkness that Louis in that fic is living in, as someone struggling with undiagnosed OCD and whose roommate is not able to see him for who he truly is until the truth is revealed.

“little more than a vestige of a motif that played a far more prominent role in ancient cosmologies worldwide” Your attempt at pretentiousness is lost when you are not fighting a real battle. Come to me when you want to have a real conversation about the apologetic implications of Phil 1:15-18 and using biblical types as trope in fic. Then we can talk.

[yellowocaballero]

ok so im not very far into trigun (which. you convinced me to read/watch) but ive seen you talk about vash as a christ/messiah figure which. means im kinda obsessed with how you described his impact on the world in no name on the bullet (christ healing the lame, christ feeding the thousand... christ delivering his people from evil.) did you have any specific biblical references you kept in mind while writing?

i also think its super interesting how the fic seems to focus more heavily on healing as opposed to how (what ive seen of) trigun is a lot more gunman focused - is part of that influenced by how knives is a pacifist in a "cold turkey" way, or a choice on your part? i think it makes an interesting dichotomy, christ the gunman and satan the physician

I've gone my entire life without recommending Trigun to anybody, because I always felt it was too weird and ultra-violent and love-it-or-hate-it to actually ask people to watch it. Look at me now. Getting at least 3+ people into it. Boo boo the fool. Also I'm sorry that this response is so long skull emoji.

I'm ex-Catholic so you have asked the right question lol. Vash is very inspired by the Old Testament God. I have a strong mental image of him obsessing over the Noah's Arc story in his cute children's Bible. Sodom and Gomorrah is brought up again much later, in an extremely important way. Garden of Eden and Paradise, as the show does. The Plagues where every firstborn son dies. These is all imagery that Vash specifically evokes on purpose. Vash...uses the Bible to understand his own experiences and feelings and desires (that's the most neutral way to phrase it), but like a lot of people he uses the Bible/God partly as justification for his actions. God destroys cities for being sinful, and Vash is the closest thing to God this planet has, so he's entitled lol. God Complex McGee up in here.

And Vash's cult has no Jesus, because there is no forgiveness for humanity, and no way for them to be saved. Which is how you know that Vash's Jesus-ey actions as described in the story are very deceitful on a lot of different levels. Kind of like regular Vash lmfao - as I said earlier, he's VERY much also a messiah deconstruction. Vash is a pacifist partly because he needs it - he needs to be believed that people can be saved, that the world can be good, that nobody has to die, because otherwise the world is nothing but an endless parade of misery and death and his own suffering. It's about saving his own soul, and the memory of Rem.

For me, on a writing level: Cain and Abel, obviously. 'My brother's keeper'-ass mofo lmfao. It's more themes for me, though - redemption, salvation, forgiveness, original sin, sin in general, guilt, fate. Knives is pretty obsessed with all of these topics. I make fun of him for it. None of it's healthy. But Knives embodies a few other Christian ideals that I don't make fun of him for, such as the importance of good works and good actions, and dedicating his life towards helping others without the desire for a reward. There's also some subtle 'shepherd and his sheep' stuff going on later.

Re: the gunfights: can you IMAGINE Knives carrying a gun. He is WAY too proud of his own #biologicalsuperiority and #ultimatelifeform and #impenetrabledefense (literally Shadow AND Gaara-ass mofo) to rely on cheap human trinkets like guns lol.

The plot has more action than my usual (yay! - that was what I was working for lol), but it's based off the skeleton of the Stampede plot, which is genuinely a lot more space opera than Western and as such its action looks different. Turns out that when you remove the Gung Ho Guns from a story, there are a LOT LESS gunfights, lmfao (I don't know what kind of errands Vash sends the GHG out on, I am afraid to find out). So partly there's less gunfights because a) Stamp plots don't require too many gunfights, and b) without a Gunman (TM) there's no reason for the group to use guns to solve their problems if at all possible.

It's also just that, basically, Vash's plots are partly man vs self and partly man vs other. When a character is level 99, the tension of the fight scene isn't if they'll win the fight - it's if they'll win the fight under their self-imposed conditions. In Vash's case, the Q in every gunfight is 'can Vash win the fight and save people without compromising his principles?'. For Knives, he is so ridiculously OP that it's impossible to write a fight scene with genuine tension, and he doesn't care nearly as deeply about casualties. So the most engaging plotlines for Knives are entirely man vs self, which tends to shake out into a lot of trolley problems lol. That's the answer to your Q from a writing perspective.

So it's mostly a choice for plot/writing reasons. But YUP the dichotomy is SUPER JUICY, and the fun part of the story is reading the Ultimate Killing Machine be forced to do literally anything else than Ultimate Kill - to do the only thing he wasn't meant to do. Because doing what he was meant to do reduces him to a biblical figure instead of a person - it makes him just a devil, who's never exercised the free will God gave him, and as such can't be called sentient. It's not what Rem would want. And it's a very juicy juxtaposition to somebody who interprets his own meaning in life as a Christ figure as a divine compulsion to brutally murder orphan.

[amyoffline]

Omg, that was a delightful read - I left you kudos in ao3 but am leaving comments here below the cut :)

"I'm not even sure whether Sister Daniel is supposed to be a Catholic or Anglican nun" we're already off to a great start. I love this, who needs doctrinal accuracy in queer fanfiction anyway

THE SASS OF THESE NUNS. now that is historically accurate

"It sounded like the sort of name a priest would have" it really does, though????

beware: clumsy bat priest

probably speaks to my own religious upbringing and purely academic interest in Christianity as an adult that as soon as you put in a Bible verse, I was like "what translation is this? I don't think Ecclesiasticus is in the modern Bible" but you dug right into the apocrypha! i was raised protestant, clearly

G-NOTE SLEEPER AGENT ACTIVATION PHRASE how dare you, I put on medieval ambient to read this and now my brain is black parading again

susan is an icon and a legend

"holy fu--" sister daniel, watch your language >:3c

a tomato mozzarella sandwich? father philip definitely didn't eat that, i hope there were other lunch options for him

"on one hand, kind of a marxist icon" oh my gooooddddddd

linguistics tangent phil!!

oooooooooooooo they're on a first name basis now 👀and only after dan joking about phil complimenting his ass 👀 very interesting, very interesting

CAPITA£ESTER

susan is DIABOLICAL but what is sister daniel if not drawn to miniskirts

"what, do i give off an aura of existential meaninglessness?" alksdjfl;a

op, we have two very important things in common when it comes to writing fic: 1) fob-style chapter titles, 2) including gratuitous references to very excellent meals we had in the past

"love your neighbor as yourself" was the single bible verse that kept me actively in the church for as long as I was, I LOVE how you've written in father philip using it and "let anyone among you who is without sin" in a sermon specifically to affirm sister daniel, spectacular work

YEEESSSSSS BACKSTORY UNDER CONTRIVED ROMCOM CIRCUMSTANCES bless u

"after slightly too long of a pause" hhhhhhHHHHH

MORE CONTRIVED ROMCOM CIRCUMSTANCES

all or nothing

your tl;dr of jonah is iconic i'm afraid

nooooo daaaaannnniieeellll talk to hiiiimmmm

SNEAKING OUT, ROOFTOP PIZZA, aaaAA--

be queer and retweet furry art 2k24

"it wasn't an accident"

falling asleep in someone else's bed is dangerous business, sister

"I’ve never found someone in my bed like this before. You looked really peaceful" can you two just leave the convent together already i swear to god

S M O O C H

sister daniel getting BOLD

i cannot believe she didn't figure out immediately that phil gave her his number. sis. it's the classic move. he likes you. he had your phone. he said he scrolled through it. put two and two together. she's hot, she can't do math

leave 👏 the 👏 convent 👏 with 👏 him 👏 daniel 👏

"song of songs" uhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhu ohohohohohohohoho ehehehehehehehehe do i know where this is going ;;;;)))))

what does it say about me that the only "ugh unrealistic" moment i've had reading this is that a bottle of kosher wine split between two famously large individuals would not result in either getting more than a light buzz

LEAVE 👏 THE 👏 CONVENT 👏 TOGETHER 👏

i prefer writing fade to black myself op don't be sorry about it

sister agatha finally getting what she wanted but it's also what's best for th--- aaaaagggghhhh

ooouuuuuuuuuuu what a perfect ending, i LOVED this

Okay, post-reading notes: OP, I don't know if you've ever listened to the Queer as Fact podcast (@queerasfact here on Tumblr), but they've done a few episodes on queerness among nuns and religious figures. Links: Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz, Hildegard of Bingen, and Saint Brigid.

Furthermore - and this is an absolutely hilarious coincidence - when I was searching one of the databases I have institutional access to for materials for the video essay, I discovered a "Dan and Phil" of the mid-late 20th century who were brothers, Catholic priests, and the type of antiwar civil rights activists that make the US government violate its own constitution. The historical Philip actually did marry a nun (they got excommunicated and then reinstated), and the historical Daniel was the first faculty advisor for Cornell's first gay rights student group.

My Sanctuary, You’re Holy to Me

Word count: 40,735

Rating: T

The Sister Daniel/Father Philip convent AU is complete! Thank you guys so much for reading, this has been a fun (and really long) one to write.

Full chapter list:

In the beginning…

Thou shalt not laugh at my mistakes

Does God Ever Get Lonely and Go Stargazing?

On Mondays in the Infirmary We Wear Anti-Theft Pink

Not Pitied, Not My People

What Happens to the Fool Will Happen to Me Also; Why then Have I Been So Very Wise?

Is It All Vanity?

A Small Rebellion

Don’t Give Anyone the Flu Unless Your Priest Sells Cocaine

Let He Who Is Without Sin Cast the First Stone

(Biblically Inaccurate) WiFi Angel

Your Beliefs are God’s Problem, Your Words are My Problem

When God Sends a Giant Worm, Next Time Be Grateful for the Gardening Help

Have You Tried Turning It Off and Back On Again?

Would You Follow Me Right Now If I Asked You?

Stay

You Found Me

Stained Glass Reflections

Song of Songs

God Forgives a Lot, But He Does Not Have Nearly Enough Forgiveness for You

Melt Your Headaches, Call It Home

[a-flickering-soul]

I answered an ask a few days ago about Rust and if I had any easter eggs I snuck into it and at the time I answered 'no' because I couldn't remember adding any, but I reread it recently and realized there are a few I snuck in that I totally forgot!

She’s almost ready to give up, sunk cost fallacy be damned, when her shovel hits something that rings like metal meeting metal. She tosses the shovel aside and falls to her knees, scrabbling in the dust with her fingers. It’s small, what she hits. Almost a perfect cylindrical shape, and oddly jointed.

The scene here when Maizee finds Rex's finger first, and then later uncovers the rest of her hand, is a (very conceited) reference to Michelangelo's 'Creation of Adam'.

“Query,” it says again. “Define ‘scrapper.’” Rex’s head tilts in a facsimile of human confusion and something grinds in one of its neck servos. It manually pries its neck back up to its former position.

This was a Steam Powered Giraffe reference to a recurring bit Rabbit does sometimes in performances where her neck fails and she has to perform a quick little repair onstage (a good example is here during 'Clockwork Vaudeville' (volume warning).)

-What’s your name?

-I wasn’t given one. Won’t you eat some more before you leave? It’s good for you.

...

-What’s those words on your back, then?

-My model number. Turn around, let me brush your hair before you catch the bus.

-Are Ex One–I can’t count that high.

-You’re learning very fast even so. Do you have a hair tie?

-I’m going to call you Rex.

This was a nod to how Star Wars characters nickname droids and stormtroopers, making names out of designation numbers.

Maizee lets it go. She lets it all go to rust.

This was another Steam Powered Giraffe reference, this one to one of their songs, 'I'll Rust With You' (you can tell that I really weaponized my current fandom to write this fic).

She takes a step forward, crunching through the rime of frost on the ground. Rex follows in her footsteps, treading where she treads, steady hand on her shoulders.

This is (kind of, sort of) a reference to Ruth and Naomi, a story in the Christian Bible, and specifically a verse from their story that is often used in wedding services where Ruth tells Naomi, "Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God. Where you die I will die, and there I will be buried." More on this here.

[silvevia]

Hello, I just found your blog. I personally never considered Donna x Alcina but as a huge lesbian and a huge fan of both I’m interested. Ive seen the community not be very friendly towards the beladonna shippers because of the fact the ship being in the “family”, and I seen one of your posts had a reblogs about this being incest, and I just wanted to give my two cents on it and see if you agree/disagree and potentially start a discussion on this.

I like how everyone calls shipping between mother Miranda’s 4 lords incest when it’s very clear this “family” is a religious dynamic. The village and the lords view mother Miranda like a deity for her ability to give powers and she instill’s fear with her power dynamic with the lords. They feel they are special to her and she’s given them powers and the false belief that there opinion and presence means something to her to keep they’re undying loyalty. A power dynamic over the lesser to great a false sense of power in the “family.” Which means because they believe in her and feel blessed/chosen by her, they will do everything in there power to please her. Like children trying to please their mother to earn a bit of praise. These terms of the deity being addressed as a parental name is not uncommon. This dynamic from the beginning of the game in Ethan’s run in with the villagers shows its clearly a cult. Like calling people in your commune brother and sister thing is very big in religious settings (I grew up Christian in the US Bible Belt. While I’m no longer apart of the religion, I had plenty of years in it and in different churches that practiced the different forms of Christianity and I heard this a lot but I’m not sure if other religions do this.) so in Christianity as a example god is the father, and the followers refer to each other as brother and sister. Now if someone for example shipped Cassandra and Alcina, I would agree that that’s incest. She stated in her personal notes that she felt a mother daughter bond with them when they transformed and it’s very clear that the dynamic is a real family dynamic between Alcina and her daughters, blood or not. As for everyone else, as cute as the dynamic of being a one big actual adopted family is in this fandom, Its a cult. Some people might not agree and that’s fine. At the end of the day it’s a video game, and a lot of the lore is open to interpretation. Thank you for coming to my Ted talk.

First of all, i want to apologise first for my not-so-good English, because i'm an Asian.

I dont know much about your country, but in Asian I have heard about a lot of movie, manga, fic and fanfic that have more NASTY things than "adopted - kids fall in love with others". This motif is popular in my country and even in Asia. Even the law allowed two adopted kids marry each other (but not with adoptive parents). Even in Japan, it's legal for two cousin marry each other.

Therefore, as long as it's not related by blood, i dont mind.

I ship Alcina x Donna because i feel that they have opposite personalities, and my headcannon is: like the two poles of the magnet, they attracted to each other. I can't see who strong enough (except our Lady) to protect my (our) little, lovely, gloomy Donna when she is to gentle too hurt her enemies.

Althought i ship Alcina/Donna, but im not against BelaDonna, idk if its ok if i do some BelaDonna 😂😂😂.

[bqstqnbruin]

I hate it when you stare

Wow here I am with another part, another fic. Ignooooree my typooos. Is this more soft smut? No one told me last time if what I wrote counts so uhhhhhhh

Read the whole series:  I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair // I hate the way you drive my car // I hate it when you stare // I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind // I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme // I hate the way you’re always right // I hate it when you lie // I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry // I hate it when you’re not around, and the fact that you didn’t call // But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you, not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all

I really do have work to do for my class at 2:30 tomorrow but instead I finished this, so I hope you like this!

_______________________

“How is it bullshit? Everyone can tell that we’re in love with each other.”

“So, what, because other people believe it, that automatically means it’s true?”

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

Evelina was visiting home for the weekend for her mom’s birthday, which meant that you had the apartment to yourself. From Friday after work until Sunday night, you were free to do whatever you wanted by yourself. Or, you thought you were going to be doing whatever you wanted until your boss texted you saying that he wanted your project finished by Monday so you could present it that afternoon. That meant you were posted up on the couch, your hair tied in a bun on top of your head, a mug full of coffee, another of tea, and a cup with water all in front of you, the blanket normally on the back of your couch now draped over your shoulders. It was a full call to the hungover days you had back in undergrad when you woke up late and were struggling to finish the work you had due the next morning.

“It’s me!” you hear a familiar voice call from the door, snapping you out of what might have been the first and only roll you had been on working on the project.

You look up to see Matthew coming over the couch, plastic bags in hand to plop down on the table. “Remind me to change the locks.”

“That would mean you have to get up to let me in, though,” he sends a wink in your direction.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him, even though you felt butterflies throughout your entire body at the sight of him looking so comfortable next to you. It was just because he’s a guy, not because it’s Matthew. You let out a quiet sigh as he fiddles with the remote to your TV. “Who says I wouldn’t leave you in the hallway? Plus, I thought you were supposed to have practice today?” you ask, trying to focus more on your project than on him.

“We’re done, and we don’t have a game for three days for once, so we’re resting up. I figured, why not come see my favorite girl?” he says, resting his hand on your shin once your drape your legs over his lap. 

“Because Taryn is in St. Louis so you settled for me instead?”

He scoffs, slowly running his hand up and down your bare leg while his eyes fixate on the television screen. He had to be able to feel the goosebumps that he was causing with his touch. “Fine, my favorite girl in Calgary unless Taryn is visiting, are you happy?”

“Am I ever happy when I’m around you?” you tease, lifting only your eyes from your screen to look at him. Still staring at the TV, you can see the smile on his face, but it almost looks like his jaw is clenching, like he’s fighting saying something back.

“And how could I not be happy around you when you treat me like that?” Your eyes linger for a second on his smile before scanning the rest of his body. Even under the long-sleeved dry fit shirt he was wearing, you could see the outline of the muscles that graced his abdomen. His arms looked like they were begging to rip the seam of the shirt, and you wanted nothing more than to take it off of him and just let them free. “Do you like what you see, babe?” you hear him say, snapping you out of the thoughts you were convincing yourself meant nothing as he was looking at you out of the corner of his eye. 

“I’m trying to picture you as a more attractive guy,” you lie, “It would be so nice if Elias were here, wouldn’t it?” 

“If you’re implying that you want a threesome, then I don’t think I could do it with a teammate,” he laughs, his fingers tightening around your shin. Would Elias be better than Matthew? Any guy would be better than Matthew, you tell yourself. He’s your best friend, and nothing more. 

“What have I said about being crude?” you ask him, fixating your eyes on the way he’s biting his bottom lip. “I think I’m gonna go get my headphones so I can do this project.” You bolt from the living room to your bedroom, leaving Matthew there by himself while you search for your phone in a panic. 

“Hey, is everything ok?” Evelina says on the other end of the phone call as you try to search for your AirPods in the mess that was your room.

“No, Matthew is here.”

“And that’s bad because?” she asks, drawing out her last word.

Groaning, you drop your phone on your desk, prompting Matthew to call to you asking if you were ok. “I’m fine, don’t worry.” Turning back to Evelina, clearly in a panic that she could hear in your voice, “Matthew is here and I think I’m horny.”

“You’re always horny for him because you’re in love with him.”

“I’m not in love with him and I’m honry because I haven’t been touched by a man in like, three months. It’s starvation.”

You hear her groan on the other end, her parents voices in the background. “Hold on, I need to go into another room,” she says. “Ok, so you really told me two days when you got home that you and Matthew nearly fucked in public  in the liquor store. You have been touched by a man. He was also practically feeling you up at the bar a week ago, might I remind you.” 

“I don’t love him,” you say, unprompted, “And he never even kissed me.”

“Says that hickey that you somehow didn’t notice he gave you?” she says, you turning to your mirror to touch the mark she was talking about. You honestly didn’t know it was there until she said something to you when you walked in the door. “If you don’t love him, why don’t you just tell him to leave?”

“I want company and he’s the only thing I have when you aren’t here. Really, this is all your fault.”

“That was so sweet until you blamed me. If you don’t want him to leave then what’s the problem?”

“Horny,” you say at the same time. “Either do something about it or control yourself, babe, but I’ve gotta go. Miss you, love you,” she says, hanging up when you finally find your AirPods.

Pulling up your playlist so it’s already playing when you get to Matthew, you don’t even look at him as you take your computer back in your lap and throw your legs in his. You can feel his eyes tracing the outline of your body even under the baggy sweatshirt you had on from a college you never went to. 

You had worked for what was probably a solid half hour, Matthew mindlessly rubbing his hand on your leg like he did before, you needing to do everything in your power to stop from thinking about and wanting more. You were interrupted by Matthew reaching over and tugging on the hem of your shorts. “Are you really listening to Christmas music right now?”

“Is it that loud?” you ask, turning the volume down immediately.

“No, I can read your lips. You were mouthing ‘Feliz Navidad,’ and ‘Sleigh Ride.’”

“Oh, then, yes,” your cheeks flushed with embarrassment that you didn’t even realize you were doing that. 

“It’s March, babe.”

“Ok, but Christmas music is fine year round.”

“No?” he questions.

“So I’m going to tell you why you’re wrong,” you start, moving your computer to the table so you don’t drop it, provoking a laugh to escape from his lips, “While I don’t agree with all things in Catholic and the broader Christian doctrine, there are things I can agree with basically because they are up for interpretation, so I interpret them in the way I like. Take, for example, the ninth commandment: love thy neighbor. Some people take it as a literal ‘love thy neighbor’ as in ‘be a good neighbor,’ to the ones who live next door, but I think it’s a matter of caring for those around you, neighbor not being the person immediately next to you wherever you live, but just other people in general.”

“What is your point?” he asks, a devilish grin spread across his face.

“My point is that the Bible, which is the end all be all of Catholic doctrine according to some people, is up for interpretation and people use it the way that benefits them, no matter how wrong they normally are. In Hebrews 13:15, it says, “Through him let us continually offer up a sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of lips that acknowledge his name,” thereby, justifying and promoting listening to Christmas music year round. It praises Jesus, who is one of the persons that make up God, and doing year round is continuous.”

“I don’t think that’s how that works.”

“Hey, if people can be assholes and use a 2,000 year old book to try to wrongly justify their bigotry and homophobia, why can’t I use it to rightly justify my listening to christmas music all year?”

“Are you Catholic?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean I can’t learn about it and keep the things that I like with me. I’m not Jesuit but I follow their ideals like ‘care for the whole person’ and ‘be a man or woman with and for other.’ And Evelina’s parents are very religious, so we kind of put up a front whenever they visit to please them. They still think we go to Mass every Sunday.” 

“Is that why there’s sometimes a crucifix by the door?” he asks, you nodding along. “And that weird Jesus magnet where he has a chefs hat and it says ‘fish and bread are served’ underneath him?”

“Yeah, I think her dad superglued that to the fridge because no matter how many times we’ve tried to get it off it won’t budge. Plus it’s a reference to another Bible passage.” 

“I went to a Catholic high school, remember? I already knew that.” You can’t help but return the smile he was sending your way, this time your eyes flicking down to his lips, you unsure if his were doing the same. You snap out of it, biting your lip and making eye contact with Matthew, both of you breathing slightly unevenly at just thinking about what you could do with each other. Was Evelina right that you two loved each other?

No, she couldn’t be right, because you didn’t love him. You pick your computer back up to get back to work, not saying another word as Matthew turned back to the TV. You hit a deadend, finding yourself back to staring at Matthew’s perfect face while his eyes narrowed and a small smirk formed on his lips at something funny on whatever movie or show he was watching. 

“Ugh, fuck,” you groan, Matthew’s head snapping to your direction as you cover your face with your hands. “I don’t want to do this anymore.” 

He reaches over and pulls your hands from your face, intertwining his fingers in yours. “Take a break, I brought food for us.” 

“You didn’t cook it yourself, did you?” you ask. The last time he had made food for you, you were sick for a week from what you’re sure was food poisoning from something being undercooked.

He laughs, the pad of his thumb rubbing your palms. You could feel your breathing get shallow by this, trying to ignore it while he’s talking to you. “No, I got it from the store down the road, already made. Mac and Cheese!” he says, pulling it out of the bag.

You roll your eyes at his stupidity. “Matthew, we’ve been sitting here for over two hours, why would you leave that on the table instead of in the fridge?”

“It’s still warm!” he argues, opening it, “Oh and it smells so bad.” You burst out laughing as he cringes, closing it immediately. “I’ll order something else.” 

You get up to go throw out the now rancid mac and cheese in the kitchen. “Hey, where do you want to order from?” you hear Matthew call, walking into the kitchen behind you.

The list. 

It’s on the fridge.

Practically throwing yourself at it to try to tear it down in time, you rip it off the fridge and fold it up in your hand just in time for Matthew to come in. “Are you ok?” he asks you, noticing your slightly faster breathing and your hands behind your back.

“Yeah, the smell was just bad,” you lie to him, shoving the list in the band of your shorts. “And I was looking at the Jesus magnet.” 

“That thing is so creepy,” he says, both of you looking at it. Knowing Matthew, you try as discreetly as possible to move the paper to your front so he can’t feel it as he inevitably presses his front to your back, his arms draping over your shoulders. Without thinking, you reach up to touch his hands as he rests his head on yours. “It’s way too white to be Jesus.”

His arms move their way down your body, settling around your waist as he starts to nibble at your ear. “God, you are so sexy,” you hear him let out.

“You’re awfully handsy lately, aren’t you Matty?”

“Oh come on,” he says, turning you around to face him, practically pinning you against the fridge, “You know we’re always like this with each other.” 

You smile at him, cupping his face in your hands as you run the pads of your thumbs along his cheeks. “We have a weird...” you start, trying to figure out the right word to describe whatever it was you had with him, “friendship,” you settle on, not exactly liking the word yourself as your tried to hide the cringe you were sure was appearing on your face. 

He swallows hard at that word. Even relationship would have been better, even if it were more broad than ‘friendship.’ At least it wasn’t such a narrow word. It felt like even if you didn’t finish the list you didn’t know he knew about, you would never see him as more than a friend. “Well, that’s what makes it my favorite friendship.” 

The two of you stand there for a minute, holding each other and gazing into the others eyes. You could feel your breathing slow down studying Matthew’s facial features again, thinking only of how perfect they looked to you in that moment. “We should figure out where we’re getting food from,” you say, dragging your hands down his chest before dropping him all together. 

He could have stared at you like that forever. He really couldn’t think of anyone more perfect than you, anyone he would want to look at besides you. “What are you in the mood for?” he asks, moving over to the counter. Opening your fridge, you remember you still have the list folded in the band of your shorts, throwing it in before grabbing some water out. “What did you just throw in there?” Matthew asked you, having watched your every move.

“Uh, Evelina and I have this weird list that we’re putting together, it didn’t feel right to have Jesus looking over it all of a sudden,” you tell him, “But now that you had mac and cheese on my mind, I kind of want that.”

“Oh, no, you’re not changing the subject that easily,” he says, trying to reach around you to open the fridge. 

“No, come on, it’s mostly Evelina’s and I don’t know if she would want you seeing it,” you lie, batting your eyes at him and trying to contort your face to make it look like you would cry if he tried anything else. He couldn’t see the list of things you hate about it. He couldn’t find out about it. 

He sighs, knowing he wasn’t going to win this one. “I ordered you mac and cheese but I’ll pay for it if you tell me the subject of the list?” he tries to bargain. 

“Uh, it’s a list of kinks,” you lie, not knowing what else to say, and usure why that was the first thing that came to mind.

His eyes go wide, pretending to be shocked. It was the list of ten things you hate about him. It had to be. He grins anyway, trying to hide the pain he felt knowing that the list was already started, and probably nearly finished at this point, “Are any of them your kinks?” 

“Yeah,” you start to lie to him again, a grin on your face, “One of them says, ‘When Matthew leaves me alone.’”

He scrunches up his face, pretending to be hurt by your comment as he walks back to your living room. “Oh you know just how to break my heart, pretty girl.” You follow him, plopping down next to him on your couch. 

You pick up your computer, snuggling into his shoulder as he wraps his arm around you. “I have no desire to do this project.” 

“Why don’t we watch something on TV then and you can work again after we eat?” he suggests. You nod, putting the computer back down, surrendering to his pout. You feel him kiss the top of your head, scrolling through the channels. “What about Lilo and Stitch?” he asks when he finds it on one of the channels. 

“Ugh, I love this movie, but the American treatment of Hawaiians is awful, and I just can’t help but think about it every time I watch,” you say, thinking you were being annoying. “Sorry,” you apologize. Evelina was used to your rants, even if you were sure she normally tuned them out. You didn’t think Matthew wanted to listen to another rant from you. 

“Don’t get me started?” he asks, referring to the game you and the guys played at the bar.

“Don’t get me started on the American colonization of Hawaii. The Cookes’ went to Hawaii and pretty much obliterated the royal bloodline. The king of Hawaii had the Cookes build boarding schools for the royal children, with good intentions that they would be able to educate his children on royal customs to effectively rule their land. Instead, the Cookes took the Hawaiian customs and told them they were wrong, imparting their own customs on them, instead. They wanted he land for America, they wanted to eliminate the Hawaiian culture and make them as American as possible,” you say. “The Hawaiian people were a very sex positive people, but oh no, American Catholic education and their ‘no sex is the safest sex’ ideal stopped the children from living the lives they grew up expected to live. If a boy was found in a girls room doing anything in these boarding schools, they would beat the children as punishment, and probably other things that weren't even recorded. There are actually a decent number of Wikipedia pages that have had this information erased, like when you go back into the edit history. The sources, as they claimed, weren’t valid, but in reality they weren’t the Cookes’ American-centric description of these schools. They even went so far as introducing sports into the schools as ‘an antidote to the worst evil of all: sexual promiscuity,’” you comment, drawing a laugh from Matthew. “Because we all know how much athletes hate sex, right?” 

You look up at Matthew, him beaming down at you as Hawaiian Roller Coaster Ride starts ironically playing in the background, “Yeah, we hate that,” he whispers. You swallow hard, trying to ignore any feelings that might be coming up at the sight of Matthew biting his bottom lip. 

“American’s always just insert themselves where they don’t belong,” you finish, settling your head back onto his shoulder as he pulls you closer to him. 

“Why do you know all of this?” he asks.

You shrug, not really sure how to answer, “I don’t know. When I’m doing work I see one word and it sends my mind into this never ending tangent and I end up looking up stuff online and reading for hours.” 

“You really are the smartest person I know,” he says with a sigh, “Why hasn’t Ev told her parents about hiding the Catholic stuff until they come?” 

You shrug, “I don’t know. I never asked, she just told me it was something she needed to do, so I did it with her. That’s her own cross to bear,” you say, taking a minute to realize the really bad pun you just made. “Ah! See what I did there!” you practically yell, Matthew groaning.

“On that note, I think I need to leave,” he jokes, getting up off the couch.

“Oh, come on, no!” you beg, taking him by the hand and trying to drag him back down to the couch. “I don’t want you to leave,” you let out as he pulls you off the couch. 

“Really?” he asks you, sitting back down on the couch, your hands still connected.

Standing over him you nod as he pulls you into his lap, straddling him. He pulls you as close to him as you can, your hands wrapped around the back of his neck. Your mind flashes back to the liquor store, the feeling that came over you as he worked his way along your body like you had a feeling he was about to do again. 

“Come on Matthew, you know this isn’t something we do,” you tease, even though you can’t help but look at his lips, the urge to kiss him creeping up on you as you tried desperately to suppress it. If any guy had taken you into his lap like Matthew just did, you would want to do the same thing. You were just desperate for a man, not desperate for Matthew. 

“We can’t do anything?” he teases, going for your neck again. You let out a moan, praying that he doesn’t leave any more marks that you’ll have to cover up later. 

“Wait,” you say to him, pulling him off of you. He looks slightly upset, not sure what to do next. ‘Ah, fuck it,’ you think to yourself, pulling his shirt off over his head, tossing it to the side and returning the favor of the hickey he gave you. You suck on his skin, listening to the moans that escaped from his lips this time, feeling him grow hard the longer you were at it. He clenches his hands on your butt, pulling you even closer to him. You work your way up his neck and to his jaw, his grip getting tighter the closer you were to his lips. You had no idea what was coming over you and causing you to want to do this, but nothing in that moment felt better. Nothing in your life had ever felt better as you kissed his face the way he did to you the other day, hearing him moan more and more with every connection you made. 

Your lips are millimeters from his, both of you practically begging the other for connection when you’re startled by the sound of Matthew’s phone ringing. You both laugh, foreheads pressed together. One more second and it would have happened. “I think that means our food is here.” 

“Perfect fucking timing,” he mutters, not loud enough for you to hear as you get up to go grab the food. He couldn’t believe you just did that. He checks his neck in his phone camera, seeing it littered with the red marks you had left for him. He reaches up to touch them, smiling for some reason. There’s no way this list would work against him, would it? 

You come back, him practically throwing his phone so you don’t see what he’s doing, settling down on the couch with each other eating the food. Your mind starts racing with thoughts about what just happened. There was no way you really wanted that, did you? Well, you wanted a man’s touch, but it didn’t necessarily have to be Matthew. It could be any guy. 

‘I have another thing for the list,’ you text Evelina, your eyes moving between your phone screen and his hands holding his food, careful not to look up at his face.

‘Good, god, what?’

‘I hate the way he stares,’ you send her, finally looking up, not taking your eyes off Matthew as the two of you can’t help but stare at each other.