#friendless churches

[foucauldiantheory]

i need to go perish in the woods. but the next best thing is lying in the grass at the cemetery under a gray gray sky. so i'll do that

[vapoworvents]

"Treat people the way you want to be treated"

I blame that phrase for a lot of my pain.

I grew up in a southern Baptist church. Not only did our family go on Sunday mornings but we went anytime they had a service. My family and I were always involved with the church. I took church very seriously back then. I'm sure I heard that phrase every single day, and I took that shit to heart. I grew up treating people the way I wanted to be treated. Hell I still do to this day without thinking about it.

Unfortunately it feels like I'm the only on who did take that phrase to heart.

All that phrase did for me was turn me into a door mat. I let people walk all over me and use the fuck out of me. All my "friends" were always around when they needed to vent about something or if they needed a ride, but never invited me to anything. I have always been the "as needed" friend and never the main friend.

This had me thinking I was the problem and I did something wrong to these people. Which I know now, but I am literally just now getting to the point where I realize that. I have been beating myself up for years over this crap. Wondering what I did wrong to make them hate me. When really they just never cared in the first place.

I'm getting close to thirty now and I don't go to church anymore but that phrase has ruined my life. I have no friends, no social life, nobody to chill with. No hobbies outside of games (because games are what I started doing because I had no friends to pass the time). Meanwhile these same pieces of shit that didn't give me the time of day are living it up socially.

My own sister is the biggest pos I know and she has more of a social life than me. This woman literally shit talks her friends to me, then does a full 180 and has them over while talking shit about me. She'll even get into fights with her friends and without fail they make up and enjoy each other's company. But I set boundaries for myself and get tossed aside like trash?

This world is cruel and definitely picks favorites. It'll lift up those with the blackest hearts and keep the true people down.

So, fuck treating people how you want to be treated. Treat everybody how you want cause they're sure as hell gonna do the same.

[cinnamonest]

how about delinquent childe x student reader…

BULLY AJAX BULLY AJAX

Literally the textbook example of “he's mean to you because he likes you and doesn't know how to express it!” thing.

From your perspective as another student in your small little town, you know he's a bad kid because of his notoriety with the school's parents. Each tells their kids to stay away from that boy, that no good will come from associating with him. You hear your parents mumble about how much they either pity his parents, how hard it must be having such a problem child, or chastising them, playing armchair psychologist as they theorize how a kid can turn out like that and wagering that it must be the parents’ fault somehow.

He ticks all the boxes that sets stricter parents into a frenzy — a history of arrests, smoking and drinking and skipping classes and failing grades. They all say they've seen that boy going double the speed limit on the rural roads, stealing alcohol from local stores, and how he put so-and-so who lives down the road's boy in the hospital, and gave so-and-so from church's boy a black eye and a broken leg, and how that teacher he attacked in eighth grade got a concussion so bad he's never been quite the same since.

But you know how awful he is firsthand, anyway. For whatever reason, unfortunately, you're picked to be his favorite victim. With other kids, it's all casual and opportunistic, getting into fights and finding amusement in tormenting others when he's bored and an opportunity comes, but for you, he goes out of his way to make your school life suck, from the time you're kids.

It's not until someone says it — maybe he just likes you, you know? — that you consider it… but even so, it reaches a point where you find it difficult to believe, and regardless, you don't care, you've come to hate him regardless of motive.

It's not like he's someone you'd date anyway, seeing as he's… well, not a good person. You like to think you have some strict standards of caliber of personal character.

The only thing that gives credibility to the theory that he's being affectionate is just how constant it is. Normally, bullying is largely opportunistic — they take opportunities when they arise, but it's not as common for bullies to go out of their way to find their victims, or if they do, not often.

Ajax, on the other hand, is a perpetual menace — to you, at least, even if his behavior towards other people mimics the pattern of normal bullying. But with you, it feels like every waking second of your life, he's dedicated to coming to find you and torture you.

Then there's the nature of the bullying — when you were little, it was tugging on your hair, tearing apart erasers and throwing the little bits at you from across a room.

The older you get, the more sensual it gets — groping you when he passes you in the halls, grabbing your tits and ass and then running off before you can do anything, snickering all the while. Crude gestures directed at you just to see you squirm. A few terrible drawings and scribbles depicting you naked and lewd passed over to you disguised as a note signed by a friend, to which you open with multiple people looking over your shoulder… only to crumple the thing and throw it away, trying not to give him the reaction he wants, but he's always smiling in amusement anyway.

The teachers are aware and have acted accordingly — they ensure you're never close to him in seating arrangements, never assign you two together for projects. But all their efforts mean little when he's still seeking you out. He finds you at lunch, in study hall, after school, on any sort of special field day, at sports games, just to torment you with teasing and taunting and touchiness, stealing your things, embarrassing you in front of others.

But at the same time, well, you can't help but notice that part of the reason is because he's friendless, his nature has made everyone dislike him, even the other bully kids. He doesn't hang out with the other “bad kids,” because the “bad kids” have a sense of respect for each other, bully only outsiders, whereas he can't help but be a menace to everyone, so any social group he attempts to enter loses cohesion when he messes with everyone. He's long since been driven away from any social circle, even other problem kids and bullies. You're his victim, but you're also the only person he really talks to.

You suppose you feel a little bad for him, but it doesn't come close to justifying making you miserable. Nor can you forgive him for ruining your clothes — you've long since noticed, to your dismay, that he's around you so much that the cigarette and alcohol smells that permeate off of him, have transferred to your own clothes, if not outright have smoke blown on them... not to mention little burn marks on your skirts where he puts them out on the fabric when you're not looking. As if some sort of cruel punishment, that you have to be constantly reminded of him even at home.

Bully Ajax who gets pushed over the edge when some new kid arrives at school and starts talking to his…

…Well, his something. Maybe not a girlfriend — you have to have slept together to truly be that, right? — but still his, some way, somehow. Everyone knows that. That's why everyone else leaves you alone.

It catches him totally off-guard — he goes to the classroom where you normally eat lunch (you've migrated there over time since everyone avoids you because of him anyway, and even if you sit alone in the cafeteria, he'll find a way to publicly embarrass you, so enduring secluded torment is easier), and lo and behold, he stops in his tracks, nearly tripping over his own feet at the sudden pure bewilderment of seeing you with someone else.

He's frozen stiff, mind blank and halted in thought like a computer error screen, trying to process, eye twitching as he watches from a distance.

Some boy that just strutted right into this school and thinks he has the right to go talking to you, sitting with you? Some guy he doesn't know?

Why are you smiling like that? Why are you laughing at whatever he just said? What did he say to you?

It's immediate, all-consuming, blind rage. A cold, bitter feeling that spreads from his throat to his chest all throughout his body, that makes him clench his jaw and kick at the ground all the way home. No point in staying the rest of the day, not when he has walls to punch and pillows to tear apart and plenty of seething to do.

And you, you're so enamored and happy with this new guy that you barely notice the absence of your biggest menace over the next few days. You're in too much bliss to notice him sitting in the back of your classes, bitterly glaring at you, hands curled into fists. Too focused on your new boyfriend (who does ask you out as such, and everyone — everyone — quickly learns about the status between the two of you) to notice you're both being followed wherever you go.

He knows where you live. Small town and all. He knows when your parents are gone. He knows when you're home alone.

Ajax is not the brightest bulb in the box. Not one to think of complex solutions. He tends to just do things very straightforward, to simply act in the most direct way possible. Combined with his total lack of impulse control, this makes for a ticking time bomb on a very short fuse, an explosion waiting to happen.

He can settle the matter with the only thing he's really good at — violence.

He's not sneaky about it either, actually quite upfront. You don't even notice the car pull into the driveway, just jolt at the sudden banging on your front door, and go still in bewilderment when you swing it open to find him of all people standing there. He doesn't give you an opportunity to say much of anything before grabbing you by the throat and shoving his way inside, dragging you through your own house as you gag and choke and flail, throwing you down on your own bed, holding you down with brutal force.

He's always been the sort of bully to find amusement in your torture — always smiling and laughing. You've never seen him genuinely angry like this. You whimper and try to push him back, but it only makes his fingers curl against your chest even harder.

He's already got the aftermath images of your boyfriend to show you. Unconscious and beaten to a bloody pulp, so swollen and disfigured he's nearly unrecognizable, red and purple all over his face, laying in a ditch somewhere.

Why are you crying? You haven't known that guy for very long at all. Not as long as you've known him. You've known him longer, he was there first, you should care more about him, you should know better than to talk to someone other than him — he treats it as a transgression, that you've betrayed him, done him some great wrong.

Which, you have, to him. Here he's invested so much time into you, and you stab him in the back like this? All that time, effort, and affection he's put into you, it's socially understood to be proclaiming you're his. Everyone else clearly understood that. You've violated a social contract of sorts, one that clearly says that he had laid claim to you, that you're his.

And you probably slept with that guy too, didn't you? Why aren't you answering? Did you? Did you? No, it's not “none of his business,” as you spit back at him, it is his business, it's you, and you're his and so anything you do is his right to know. If you don't answer, he'll choke you out until you do. But he knows you did, so even if you say you didn't, he'll just do the same until you confirm the answer he knows is true.

So you did. Let someone else get to you before him. Slept with someone that isn't him when you knew full well he wanted to.

You're lucky I don't fucking kill you.

That's what he says into your ear, when he's ramming into you so hard your headboard keeps slamming into the wall, fingernails digging into your flesh. That he was there first. That he loved you first. That you had no right. That you're a whore and a little bitch and you knew exactly what you were doing — yes you did, you fucking knew, don't lie to me — by cheating on him with some loser, and that if he didn't love you so much, if he wasn't so merciful, he would kill you for this.

You probably did it on purpose. You wanted to get back at him for that really bad thing he did to you a while back, maybe, or maybe that other really bad thing he did another time. You wanted to make him mad.

Maybe you wanted this, even. Wanted him to do this to you. Yeah, that's the theory that makes the most sense to him.

Right. You wanted to be “official” or whatever it's called when people are publicly together, which of course means they've slept together. Everyone already knew you were his, but you wanted to take things further. You just have such an indirect way of doing things. You know, you could have just invited him to come sleep with you. But you have to do everything in such convoluted, needlessly indirect ways. Girls are so frustrating sometimes.

Regardless, this is what it takes to get you to acknowledge what you both know to be true — that he's always owned you, really, you know that, everyone knows. Once you wake up, he'll have to go over rules with you from now on about not talking to other guys. Of course, now that you're all passed out, he'll wait in bed for you to wake up, because he's a good boyfriend. He'll just smoke to pass the time... you won't mind a some ashes in your bedsheets. Probably.

Now he'll just have to stay by your side even more, ensure you don't get the chance to act on your urges ever again, since you seem to have trouble with impulse control. He’ll be sure to preemptively beat any new male students half to death as soon as they set foot on campus and tell them to stay away from you. You know, precautionary measures.

[howlingday]

Avalanche time for jaune and hound

(rwby x final fantasy abridge)

Hound: You... Quiet... Why?

Jaune: Let me tell you a tale...

Jaune: When I was a wee lad... Every day, I would go to my church... get on my knees... and pray to whatever god was left to listen. And I said, "God? Are you there? It's me, Baby Jaune! There's only one thing in this world that I want more than anything. I don't care if you take my sword! My friends! Or the home in which I sleep! WHAT I WANT... is a talking dog best friend!"

Jaune: Now, here I stand... Swordless... Friendless... And homeless..

Jaune: But not... TALKING! DOG! BESTFRIENDLESS!

Hound: OH... WE... FRIENDS?!

YEEEEEEEEEAH

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Ruby: Isn't it weird that the only person other than me who remembers that night was me and y-

Blake: WE DIDN'T FUCK. I-Isn't it weird how I just said that out loud?

Ruby: Extremely! Let's never talk about it again!

Blake: Agreed!

Jaune: (Knocking, Muffled) FOR REAL, THOUGH! SHUT! THE FUCK! UUUP!

Ruby: Don't you guys only have one bed in there?

Jaune/Hound: DAMN RIGHT~!

DOGGY STYLE SNUGGIES~!

Intruders will be shot. No wizards allowed.

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Ilia: While that's happening, Jaune and the Hound will be cutting loose all the dinghies but one.

Jaune: You know what time it is, Hound~?!

Hound: DOGGY... STYLE... TIME... BAY... BEE...

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Hound: Worried... Jaune...

Ruby: Jaune has been acting weird since we got here... I haven't seen him all day. Maybe he's just having some Jaune-time?

Hound: Re... Member... Doggy... Style... Time...

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Jaune: (Sobbing) I'm gonna find my dad, and I'm gonna make things right! And... (Sniffs) I'm gonna do it... with my talking dog best friend BY MY SIDE!

Hound: Oh... Dog... It... Means...

Jaune: Synchronize your non-existent watch, Hound! BECAUSE IT'S-!

Hound: DOGGY STYLE TIME~!

Jaune: DOGGY STYLE TIME~!

Hound: FROGGY ISLE TIME~!

Jaune: RUBGY FRENCH TIME~!

Ruby: Yeah~! Let's kill people~!

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Papa Arc: (Cackling maniacally)

Jaune: ...Hey, Dad? You know what time it is, fucker?

Papa Arc: EXCUSE ME...?

Jaune: I SAID... DO YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS?!

FUCKEEEEEER!

Jaune: Doggy Style Time. MOTHERFUCKER.

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God of Animals: (Writhing in agony) HOW CAN THIS BE SO PAINFUL...?!

Ruby: ...

Jaune/Hound: DOGGY STYLE TIME, MOTHERFUCKEEER~!

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Nora: Jaune and the Hound are like the dad and his friend who sleep in the same bed and nobody questions it~!

Jaune/Hound: Doggy Style Snuggies, motherfucker~!

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Jaune: The clock's ticking for her ass... And when the alarm goes off, Salem's gonna wake up TO THE DOGS OF WAR BARKING AT HER DOOR! LED BY-

Qrow: Me.

Jaune: You? The fuck makes you think you're qualified to lead Doggy Style Time?

Qrow: The fuck is a "Doggy Style Time"?

Jaune: DID THIS MOTHERFUCKER-

Hound: YES.

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Jaune: Dammit! There's no way we'll make it in time! Unless...

Jaune: This calls for speed.

Hound: What... Speed?

Jaune/Hound: DOGGY STYLE SPEED~! (Hops into cart with Qrow) DOGGY STYLE SPEED~!

30 Minutes Later

Qrow: DOGGY STYLE SPEED FUCKING SUCKS!

Jaune: Did you take your foot off the Doggy Style Brake?

Qrow: The-

Hound: Trick... No brakes... On Doggy Style Train.

Qrow: Okay, now we just have to sneak onboard-

Jaune/Hound: DOGGY STYLE TRAIN~!

Qrow: WILL YOU GUYS SHUT THE FUCK UP BEFORE THEY HEAR-?!

Guard: INTRUDERS!

Qrow: (Quietly) Motherfucker...

Jaune: WE GOTTA STOP THIS TRAIN BEFORE IT REACHES ANSEL!

Hound: And... If... Not?

Hound: Brakes... Good... Need... Brakes.

Qrow: Fuck! I- I don't know what to do!

Jaune: There's only one thing you can do, Qrow! Believe...

Qrow: Believe in what?!

Jaune/Hound: DOGGY STYLE TIME MOTHERFUCKEEER~! (Train stops)

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Ruby: So, what have you guys been up to?

Qrow: Well, those idiots the SDC were gathering dust so they could shoot it at Salem.

Jaune: And thanks to Doggy Style Time and whatever the fuck Nora's team name was did, we grabbed most of it~!

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Hound: Mystery... Meat... Secured.

Jaune: Setting security protocol to level... DOGGY STYLE~.

Ruby: (Hears clicks and whirs) And... what did that do, exactly?

Hound: You'll... know...

Qrow: Hey, if our ol' rustbucket still works, we can head on over! (Exits) The fuck did I just step on...? WHOA! HEY! NO! FUCK!

Jaune/Hound: DOGGY STYLE SECURITY, MOTHERFUCKER~.

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Jaune: And while you guys do that, it'll be the perfect opportunity for Qrow, Hound, and myself to...

Blake: It has Doggy Style in the name, doesn't it?

Jaune: NO!

Jaune: ...Yes.

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Jinn: Buuut... If you DID want some extra firepower, there is a relic you can gather, said to grant incredible magic and power to possibly be able to defeat Salem! But it will require you to take on a grueling trial, a set of tasks to complete in order to prove your worth to wield it! So, what do you say~?

Jaune: What do we say...? DOGGY STYLE TIME~.

Hound: DOGGY STYLE TIME~.

Qrow: Ugh... Doggy Style Time... So, what do we gotta do?

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Ruby: Hey, uh, Mom? Have you seen Jaune anywhere?

Hound: TICK-TOCK GOES THE CLOCK~!

Jaune: WHO'S BRINGING JUSTICE, FUCKER~?

Qrow: Y'ALL KNOW WHO IT IS~!

Jaune/Hound: DOGGY STYLE TIIIME~!

Qrow: MOTHERFUCKEEEEEEEEEEER~!

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500 Years Later

???: C'mon, Grandma Summer! Tell us the story~!

?!?: Yeah~! Tell us~!

Hound: Very well, little ones~. This is the tale... Of-!

DOGGY STYLE TIIIIIIIIIIME~! MOTHERFUCKER~!

[philtstone]

16 (nose kisses), Anne/Gilbert!

The unspoken laws and loyalties of bosom friendship notwithstanding, Anne has been inching nearer and nearer to the edge of her patience with every subsequent Post-Date Diana who enters their humble apartment.

"Oh, Anne," she says the first time, admittedly Diana-ish in the rosy, stalwart flush of her cheeks. "I just had the best time. We got spaghetti, and he held my purse, and I think I laughed all night long."

Fred Wright is nowhere near funny enough for Anne to believe this a sustainable laughter, but Diana is happy, and if one isn't expecting a date to go anywhere -- which Anne is not -- the best outcome of the whole thing would be an enjoyable old time. Anne says, "A grand old success, then," while Diana goes, smiling, to the bathroom to get unready, and that is that.

So Anne thinks, anyhow.

"Anne," says Diana after the second date. "Oh, I keep thinking about him. He's got such nice eyes, and such lovely hair --" (It's so very flat and straight, which Anne has never found alluring, but she holds her tongue) "-- and gosh, Anne, all I could think of was how desperately I wanted to kiss his nose. I felt like a heroine from a romance, Anne, I really did!"

This is less like the Di Anne knows, but she allows that years of being exposed to Anne might have predicted such behaviour -- his nose, really! No one has so alluring a nose that you'd want to kiss it, let alone Fred's flat and snub one -- Diana's is so much more aristocratic -- but Anne manages to smile and nod. She has twelve readings due tomorrow, so she decides -- whilst on a semi-regular video call with recent chum Gil Blythe -- that she'll deal with it later.

"Diana's sensible," Anne tells him, stoutly, while she braids her hair for bed and he squints at his Anatomy 412 flashcards by the sink with a toothbrush in his mouth. "Not like I am, Gil -- she'll grow out of this Fred thing. I mean, she has dreams, for God's sake, and Fred is so -- so -- Fred."

"Fred's a nice enough guy," Gilbert says, muffled around his toothbrush. He spits. "Accounting's got steady income. And, you know, Diana's mom's got to like him -- not like the last few guys."

It's true, of course, that Fred Wright goes to the same Korean Church the Barrys have patronized for years, but Anne sees this as immaterial to Diana's dreams of becoming a self-made creative marketing director in the modern age of womankind.

"We've got exams in a week," Anne says with confidence. "I'm sure she'll be back to herself in no time."

The third date comes and goes, and Diana admits -- after a whole two days of secretive private sighing -- to a make-out session of the most agreeable kind. There was over the clothes action. Anne howls with such violent shock that her prized 2014 MacBook almost flies across the room.

"And it took you two days to tell me?" she shrieks.

Diana is only a very little bit repentant.

Anne becomes convinced. She is losing her closest friend in the world -- to a man.

To Fred Wright. And his perfectly average nose!

Oh, calamity!

"Anne," says Gilbert, for the tenth time, a week after Diana's gone on her fifth date. Well -- they're not really dates anymore. Anne's been informed that her best friend is in a whole relationship with the dreaded Fred. After three days of a stiff upper lip (she had two papers due for women's studies) she has broken down in tears in Gilbert's dorm. Thank God Josie and Moody left an hour ago, because Anne doesn't think she could've borne the humiliation of Losing It in front of them.

Gilbert, somehow, is different.

"Anne," he says once more, gently. She can feel his hands rubbing carefully against her back, and it is helping, really. She hiccups a few times.

"I'm just -- we had these dreams together, Gil. What if she goes off and gets married before me and never becomes duchess of digital marketing, and I'm left alone and friendless and -- and -- alone -- and, oh, I haven't even started my third term paper. Alone!"

At this, Gilbert sighs fully and pulls her into a hug. Anne hiccups weepily for a while longer against his chest, which is surprisingly solid. She supposes she ought to have expected this -- just as she ought to have expected Diana's romantic escapades -- because, as evidenced by the old football jersey he's currently wearing, Gilbert the pre-med student was until very recently something of an athlete. Anne tripped over her own feet the last time she tried running, and so has long since given up the stuff. This noted contrast is suddenly and inconveniently allowing a queer feeling to enter her stomach.

"Anne," Gilbert says a third time, somewhere around the vicinity of her forehead. "You're not alone. You goose. As if Diana would ever forget about you."

"But things might change," Anne says.

It comes out in a far smaller voice than she intends it to. And then, as if inspired, she looks up.

She doesn't mean to, and perhaps she is compelled by some greater force; in that moment, she comes the closest she ever has to Gilbert's own nose. It is far nicer than Fred Wright's, Anne's mind manages to notice. Long and straight and brown, and -- well, there is a freckle or two there, from the sun, but they're much sweeter than Anne's own and something about their proximity is making her stomach flip. His arm is warm against her side.

She could kiss his nose, pops the thought into her head, so very unwanted.

"Not all change is a bad thing, Anne," Gilbert says, his low voice scattering that awful intrusion to the four winds. He is as quiet as she had been, but more steady, somehow. Gilbert is often steady, these days, and steadiness is something Anne has never thought, actively, to crave before, but she has -- well, she has.

Anne takes a deep, querulous breath and pretends her head isn't spinning. Gilbert's expression shifts; she stops staring at his nose. A very small part of her, perceptive in spite of herself, thinks that he is about to take pity on her.

He does.

"C'mon," Gil says, untangling them and helping Anne to her feet with a decidedly chummy arm up. "You've got your paper and I've got this bellringer. I'll put on some tea, we'll focus, and then I can come with you tomorrow to stage a Diana Intervention."

And it won't really be that -- Anne loves Diana too much to want anything but the best and happiest for her -- but she is comforted, all the same.

[themousefromfantasyland]

I hate how my family raised me.

I joke that me and my sister were raised like Rapunzel in the tower. We didn't have outright abusive parents, but we had pretty overbearing ones.

My father still drives my sister to the local college all the time to this day and if I go somewhere for longer periods of time without texting my mother she nearly passes out.

Our teenage years were basically going through house and school only, and we never had the experience of hanging out with friends outside of that. We both never dated anyone.

My sister is starting to have a social life now that she's in college, but father and mother are still in control and she can't go out with her friends to drink at a bar. She can't go out for longer periods of time.

Now we both are left as two very awkward adults with no social skills. We have the same level of social autonomy as twelve years olds.

But at least she's deeply religious. At least she have the church social circle of my parents, their friends, and their friends' children.

But me?

I'm an atheist gay man. I don't fit in with their world.

I don't have any social skill, and no social circle to be part of.

I'm lonely and friendless

@ariel-seagull-wings @thealmightyemprex @tamisdava2

[sometimes-online]

So how awful is Friendless AU Faraway Town, and how exactly did it become such an awful place compared to canon?

:D Thank you for the question!!

(Longer answer/ramble below!) Long explanation short- Friendless au is a mirrored reality to the normal omori! Its the normal/usual for people in this au to be more self centered and defensive. Kindness is seen as a unnecessary act- or in some situations a weakness. (It being a weakness is proved multiple times because the characters who suffer more tend to be the ones too weak or intimidated or too "kind" to throw a punch back) People only stand up for themselves and mostly mind their business.

:0 Overall everything's a bit more dull and bad in this au- :0 I was inspired by a few songs and the church scene from in game where the people in church were saying cruel things about Aubrey. Its basically a au where "what if none of the main characters were friends with each other" but taken to a bit of a extreme! People in faraway don't hide their ugliness from one another through rumors- its outwardly toxic to everyone.

At best people tolerate one another- its kinda like a "every person for themselves" situation there. If someone is suffering or struggling others don't bat a eye or help out- if its not them or their problem they don't care.

:0 There are some nice characters in the story but they still wouldn't stand up for anyone/go out of their way to do something for someone else at their own expense (at least not until the end) And every main character + hooligan is redeemable- its just up to them to realize that they don't need to live like this. People in this au take out their frustrations and issues and make it other peoples problems. Most having the mindset that being nice/kind to others isn't worth it when no one will do the same for you.

but yeah! Hope you liked the ramble!! Maybe I'll draw the main cast later or share a playlist for this au or something :D Its one of my favs I've made- Thank you for being curious about it! ^^

[polufabrikat-na-vilke]

SO!!!! Here's my headcanons about little Doppio (but they progressively get a little darker):

He would really like Bambi and it would be impossible to convince me otherwise. Very realistic, I think.

Perhaps, until a certain age, he would like to become a priest, like his adoptive father (that is, literally about the most significant adult figure in his life (just so you understand how important it may have been for him)). He changed his mind later.

I think in his world for quite a long time there was little room for any kind of romance (yes, including some kind of first childhood crush) due to religious teachings and his wish of becoming a priest.

He would have liked to climb the church bell tower; owls (barn owls or little owls) would likely live there.

Doppio has a very murky origin story, both for him and for the others (judge for yourself: a boy, the son of a thief and who knows who else, ends up in the village under the care of a priest who has no connection with him, while most children have ordinary families), so I think that there might well be some bad rumors about him in the village, which is why he was most likely bullied. To a greater extent by peers, to a slightly lesser extent by others. To this fact I can also tie his love for animals (I mean, animals wouldn't bully you, would they?). Also, I think, in addition to strolling, he would like to read and listen to the radio.

I’ll clarify what kind of rumors I think these would be in the village: some locals would most likely think that he might be a "wrong" child and, of course, would tie this to religion (perhaps they would think that he was cursed or possessed or something else). It is quite possible that over time he himself would begin to consider this as a probable reality (religion is a terribly inspiring thing, especially when you have been in this environment since early childhood and when your head is tormented by questions to which there are no answers). Maybe he would even start trying to find out about it in the books, but Diavolo would soon talk him out of it.

By the way, as I wrote earlier in my blog, I see Diavolo as some kind of spirit, or simply a disembodied entity (without specifying what kind of entity) that has been present with Doppio since his birth. About this: I think Diavolo would have started talking to Doppio and forming a bond with him since his childhood, and at first they were talking using real phones (Diavolo, obviously, didn't need a phone, it was only Doppio who thought his "friend" was on the other line). And of course he wasn't the "boss" then. Diavolo would be his "friend," his only "friend," to be specific. He would communicate with him on his home phone when he was alone, which, by the way, should not have happened so rarely, given how much time priests usually spend in church and in various practices. Diavolo never introduced himself to him, was always just a "friend", didn’t say much about himself, but was a great advisor and listener for a friendless boy who conveniently lacked communication. Doppio, although internally had doubts and wondered about the mysterious "friend," could not and did not try to find out more and, moreover, was happy that this incognito existed at all. It's nice to have a friend who always knows when you need him, isn't it?

And Doppio, who once needed Diavolo terribly, later, in a sense, began to return the favor.

[activate-shadow-of-the-window]

Sketches of the life series winners I may or may not end up inking. They started as practice figures and ended up as… brainrot and worldbuilding? Shows how my poor brain works.

Starting at the top and going down, we start with Grian, Saint of the Desert Sun, first canonized Saint of the Church of the Watchers. As told in the Third Book, he fought in the Red Winter War against the Red King. He was betrayed, temporarily fell to the sins of revenge and wrath, before regaining his virtue and besting Scar of the Desert and martyring himself on the sand. Stigmata associated with him is blood-like coloration on the hands and especially under the fingernails.

Scott Major, Saint of the Endless Stars, was the second canonized Saint. As told in the Last Book, he survived strife and turmoil among the many factions of the Four Directions before martyring himself on his own sword. Stigmata associated with him is blood-like coloration on the chest or around the head.

Pearl Moon, Saint of the Shadowed Moon, was the third canonized Saint. As told in the Double Book, she wallowed in the sins of jealousy and violence before she was reunited with her Soulmate and was martyred by an explosion. Stigmata associated with her are lines around the wrists or marks that resemble fire or frostbite scars.

Martyn Littlewood, Saint of the Stained Planet, was the fourth canonized Saint. As told in the Book of Time, he was a loyal friend to his ally before descending into the sins of pride and wrath. He killed his ally and was martyred by a strike of lightning. Stigmata associated with him are crooked lines on the skin that resemble either lightning scars or branching coral.

Scar Goodtimes, Saint of the Blooming Planet, was the fifth canonized Saint. As told in the Book of Secrets, he was a lonely and friendless man who quickly fell to the sins of trickery and destruction. Despite this, he survived through these immoral ways and eventually slew the good Pearl of the Mounds. He did not martyr himself, instead turning his back to the Secret Keeper and declaring himself his own man. Stigmata associated with him are marks on the hands resembling ink stains from writing, or splotches resembling blooming flowers.

[prententiousjackal]

Been mourning the wedding I could never have.

There were no Mormon weddings on TV so I modeled my future temple wedding off of other christian weddings. I thought temples would be similar on the inside to church-houses, that there'd be a chapel to wed in, husband and wife would exchange personal vows or use something similar to the conventional christian cookie cutter vows only without the "death till we part" rhetoric because temple marriage would be forever. I thought there'd be chapel's worth amount of people attending. I thought the bride could wear a nice flowing dress and the groom could wear a black suit.

Knowing that temple weddings were supposed to be indoors, kids can't attend and that temple weddings were supposed to be for marriage forever were the only major differences I knew of at first.

I remember as a kid getting angry at the show Caillou for a wedding episode where some couple had their wedding outdoors and Caillou was allowed to attend despite being a little kid. I'd watch Spiderman 2 and shame Peter Parker for suggesting Mary Jane be married outdoors.

Then I went on Temple Open Houses and saw pictures of the sealing room to realize it was nothing like a chapel. But the infinity mirror was cool and I readjusted my expectations, but still sometimes forgetting and gravitating toward that chapel wedding image.

Then I went to temples for baptisms for the dead a few times. I hated it. I was so ill prepared. I felt scared to ask questions in fear of breaking some holy silence. I'd get confused on where the group was. It was very disorienting. And I didn't get to see any part of the temple that I didn't need to see for what I was doing. I didn't want to feel unprepared again and curiosity got the best of me so I found explanations of the rest of the temple online. And it all too ridiculous and different from what I imagined.

I feel like I was raised in a totally different religion that's been taken away from me. People want to convert to this brand new religion of the temple that was nothing like what I wanted. My dreams of nice suits and dresses are broken. It's such a betrayal.

People really expect me to pay 10% of my income for this? Tithing didn't seem like much as a kid when you didn't actually have to care about money, but now I realize how much it is. The temple is the most expensive wedding venue, even individual invitees need to pay for entry, it has a low occupancy so not many people could attend anyway and it's absolutely butt ugly. Not worth it. 0/10

I feel like I can't love someone. Not just because I'm a shy friendless anti-social wreck. But also because I don't want to face the expectations of temple marriage and I don't want my partner to be made to feel like they're driving a wedge between my and my family. I wouldn't want them to be preached to and blamed for not wanting a temple marriage either. Sometimes I wonder if it'd be easier to become partners with a man or a trans person than with a cis-woman. It'd burn bridges so quick. No one would expect us to get married in the stupid temple.

Had all these thoughts stuck in my head in an incoherent song. I imagine it starting out like something solemn you'd hear at a wedding before turning into pop music. So I got some cheesy lyrics with the most boring rhyme schemes and some songs I'd steal and mix melodies from, in my mind.

I thought I’d be married in a suit Surrounded by everyone I knew She’d be wearing a dress so white As I stared down that endless hall into her eyes ... But now I know it can not happen I think I was raised in a different faith Now they’re trying to convert me to a new religion Never thought this would be my fate ... Can you see me in a suit kneeling at the altar? I thought my faith would never falter. ... Misleading photos in magazines, But not a single wedding on TV. Thought the temple walls was just a canopy, But now I know what I wasn’t supposed to see. ... Brooches of flowers, reduced down to leaves. Rainbows of colors, now just white and green. ... My chapel shrunk into a tiny chamber. My entry list saw friends as strangers. ... If there’s such a thing as a life hereafter. You don’t need a building to be together forever.

[howtotrainyouragents]

Agent H's Movie Reactions

Ladybug and Cat Noir the Movie

A reimagining of how Ladybug and Chat Noir, and their secret identities Marinette and Adrien, met, fell in love, and saved the world

-I was trying so hard to make this a non-comparison reaction and judge it on it's own basis, but there's just too little in the actual movie and too much to actually say so here we go lol

-Truly I think the weakest part of this movie is just the script. The dialogue is so generic, it's almost soulless. It has to directly say what the characters feel at all times and has to give the most basic children's movie messages as the answer. For ex, that scene where she meets Tikki, and Tikki just speedruns the explanations is so bad bc like, the reveal of the power is an important part of any superhero story, and them speedrunning it is like "lol, we don't care, you know the deal, let's just move past it" which is bad for immersing yourself in the story

-Marinette is so generic here, it was annoying to me. And she keeps talking about her dreams and fears but what are your dreams and fears?? All she is just timid and awkward here (which makes sense why people are goo gah over this version)

-Personally, I don't like the idea that your old self is bad and you have to get rid of it but that's just me

-Marinette wears a tank top underneath the jacket??? she’s just like me fr

-That poll going around that was like, What was the message of the movie? I thought that was a joke and there was obviously a correct answer. But oh no. They genuinely just changed the message of the movie like every twenty minutes

-What was the point of making the Ladybug and Cat rivals if Ladynoir immediately solve working together like the second time they meet. And what does the "stronger together" mean, like was it making their superpowers literally stronger or was it just teamwork is better?

-Everyone just felt mean to each other? Like Adrienette/Ladynoir, but also like Marinette wouldn't be so mean to her dad? And Alya teasing her about being friendless? And Chat Noir could be seen as joking around but they don't give that impression enough, so he comes off as kind of just a jerk.

-Chat Noir is adorable until he speaks. I love that little arms-flailing run from the gargoyle in the church

-Also I need that dialogue scene of "I have nine lives, razor-sharp sense, etc." to be like a meme picture set please

-HE HAS LITTLE GLITTER ON HIS MASK :(((

-Yeah, I have no idea why Marinette likes Adrien other than he's hot when they first meet. (And I have no idea what his deal is. Why was he sitting lonely in the library? How does he know Chloe? How does he know Nino and no one else? No explanations!!)

I have no idea why Chat Noir likes Ladybug other than she saved his life. Like, okay, and? This movie seems to think that the only good acts is saving someone from danger, and all the million good tiny acts that the characters do in the show that fundamentally are a part of who they are isn't important

-Some of the Ladynoir banter was a little more banter-is-cool-right-right? than characters-actually-talking-and-bantering

-That being said, I AM NOT IMMUNE TO LADYNOIR

-The animation is gorgeous HOLY FUCK. I could watch these scenes all day. And I don't really mind, with some exceptions (ALYA. MARINETTE'S DAD), the character designs

-I did scream at seeing Luka. But upon a closer look, wtf did they do to him

-I liked Chloe's design in the promos, but I don't actually like it that much here, her hair is too stringy

-*Me cradling show!Plagg and whispering* "Who did this to you? Who hurt you like this? I will kill them all for you." (No, but seriously, No Plagg's galaxy design? The fart jokes? The not-caring-about Adrien?)

-I can't believe they've made me say this, but I think I prefer Hawkmoth's show design? His face is a little too expressive here (esp when Gabriel's really isn't), and it weirds me out

-I do think it's cute to have all the classmates and side character cameos

-There was some shots that just felt confusing, like I'm not sure where they wanted my focus to be

-Some of the back and forth scenes could've been edited a little sharper

-Hahaha, I like that they unnecessarily amped up the yoyo design

-If they were really doing such big-budget animation, they should've gone for it and given the characters new outfits and all each day. I'd pay for it

-I was THIS close to just skipping all the songs. And honestly I should've, they (except maybe the Ladynoir falling in love song?) didn't add anything to the story.

-I always love Lou singing for Marinette, but the contrast between Cristina's speaking and Lou's singing is SO BAD WHO APPROVED THIS

-Girl, you can't have a self-realization song in the middle of a fair on fire

-This movie owes me money for making me watch Gabriel sing. It was a fun song, but you owe me reparations

-"A she-ro!" Boooo! Negative points for trying too hard! Haha, Also Ladybug literally wasn't doing anything atm when Alya said that

-Nino having a crush on Alya is so cute

-Adrien sad boi hours

-“Evil Miraculous” Nooroo doesn’t deserve this slander :(

-Master Fu was, uh, a lot

-Also, they keep harping on, You have to save the world!! (Oh my goodness why was Tikki so serious) Which like makes me appreciate how the show smartly keeps it's stakes reasonable and contained to Paris bc that's such an easy pitfall for superhero genres to fall into

-Ladybug and Chat Noir didn’t even save the day??

-Sheesh, and you guys were mad thinking season 5 finale gave Gabriel a redemption (which it didn't)??

-YES YOU ARE RIGHT ADRIEN WOULD CRY LEARNING MARINETTE IS LADYBUG

-WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU HAVE THIS ENTIRE FUCKING FANFIC MOVIE AND THEY DON'T EVEN KISS

-Look, Adrien deserves to tell his dad off, but this Adrien doesn't because it doesn't feel built up or paid off at all

-Dude. The reveal of Emilie doesn’t mean anything in this version of the story

-People who love the show will hate the movie and people who hate the show will love the movie

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Noticing a few things on my latest reread of Jane Eyre that I hadn’t before.

Here is how the book starts, on a day in late autumn:

There was no possibility of taking a walk that day [due to the badness of the weather]…I was glad of it. I never liked long walks, especially on chilly afternoons; dreadful to me was the coming home in the raw twilight, with nipped fingers and toes, and a heart saddened by the chidings of Bessie, the nurse, and humbled by the consciousness of my physical inferiority to Eliza, John, and Georgiana Reed.

When we skip ahead to a pivotal moment in the book, that of Jane’s first meeting with Mr. Rochester, her sentiments are precisely the opposite. It is a chilly day in January:

It was a fine, calm day, though very cold; I was tired of sitting still in thevlibrary through a whole long morning; Mrs. Fairfax had just written a letter which was waiting to be posted, so I put on my bonnet and cloak and volunteered to carry it to Hay; the distance, two miles, would be a pleasant winter afternoon walk…I walked fast till I got warm, and then I walked slowly to appreciate the species of pleasure brooding for me in the hour and situation. It was three o’clock; the church bell tolled as I passed under the belfry; the charm of the hour lay in its approaching dimness, in the low-gliding and pale-beaming sun…I lingered till the sun went down among the trees, and sank crimson and clear behind them.

I wouldn’t have thought much of this, except that the prominent positioning of the two moments - on at the beginning, the other at a key inflection point - and the preciseness of the contrast, the first wuth Jane specifically saying she disliked walks on cold days and coming home in the twilight, the other with ger specifically relishing and seeking out a walk at twilight on a cold day - makes the contrast seem intentional.

And there is another specifuc contrast between Jane’s childhood and later life that I never noticed before. In childhood, she is terrified to the point of panicking and fainting by being shut up (as punishment for her older cousin having bullied her) in the ‘red room’, a spare bedroom room filled with red curtains, draperies, carpets, other furnishings, and walks, and mahogany furniture, where her uncle died some years ago.

Later, when she has come into a fortune and is decorating Moor House to welcome her cousins Diana and Mary (hmm, the Riverses, whom she likes and whom she has tastes and enjoyments in accordance with, seem set up like a purposeful contrast to the Reeds - two sisters and an older brother), there is a brief mention:

A spare parlor and bedroom I refurnished entirely, with old mahogany and crimson upholstery

This seems too concordant with the description of the ‘red room’ to be unintentional. Is Jane exorcising an old ghost? But she gives every indication of being very happy with her redecorating and finding it very pleasant, and Diana and Mary feel likewise.

There are no shortage in Jane Eyre of contrasts between Jane’s younger self and her adult self. The strongest is her overwhelming hunger for approval, acceptance and friendship in childhood (I know I should think well of myself; but that is not enough: if other’s don’t love me I would rather die that live) contrasted with her determined assertion of emotional and moral self-reliance at the moment she refuses the stay with Mr. Rochester as his mistress (I care for myself. The more solitary, the more friendless, the more unsustained I am, the more I will respect myself.) This does not mean she does not still desire companionship, affection, and love - she does, passionately - but she will not sell her soul to get it.

But the two contrasts above are new to me. Do they have specific meanings? If I tried to apply meanings, I think that the first, with long walks on cold days, relates to Jane’s confidence in her abilities. In her childhood at Gateshead, she cannot please anyone, no matter how she tries, and her physical capacities (‘a heart…humbled by the consciousness of my physical inferiority to Eliza, John, and Georgiana Reed’) are similarly limited. At Thornfield, she has already gained Mrs. Fairfax’s apprival of her as a governess, and Adèle’s affection; and at the moment of the walk she finds herself in a position of being useful to Mr. Rochester when his horse slips on the ice. Jane enjoys being useful and helpful, especially to people she likes or loves; she is more confident in herself and her abilities, and thus less timid, than she was as a child.

For the red room…the red symbolism tempts one to think of passion, but I do not think that is it; neithe scene has any connection with romantic love. Rather, the red room at Gateshead is the central instance showing the complete lack of familial love Jane has at Gateshead; her decorating at Moor House to welcome her cousins is an expression of the familial love she has found there.

[draugenrarities]

[separatist-apologist]

I am risking my neck ( i dont plan on living that long tbh) here but Once Upon a Broken Heart should on the list. The idea of the girl praying the Prince of Heart church sounds like a literal good start, but the fuck the boy is a try hard unpaid model / inlfluencer of fast fashion? IS THIS A FANTASY BOOK OR A FUCKING VERSACE RUNAWAY (walmart ver) ? idk on eva, i dont even know what to think of her.

This is the risk I take with haters bookclub. Inevitably, a book I enjoy will show up for roasting and I have no one to blame but myself. That's okay- if I can dish it, I better be able to take it and I CAN.

I think some very good points could be made about OUABH and I admit when I started it, I expected to dislike it. Evangeline at times is too dumb to live and Jacks was an unrepentant asshole.

What I did enjoy, at least, was that Jacks was never sanitized once the romance starts to pick up. His past actions aren't sanded down or remade in the "it was for your own good/i was protecting you" vision. He genuinely did not like her I wish all enemies to lovers were like that.

It's YA, but if it were adult you're right- he would have been a major fuck boy. I think he's just an asshole but an asshole with a backstory and Evangeline is a soft kind of heroine that lacks a sword and IS nice, and I have to admit, in a world filled with friendless pick-me heroines, I really enjoy seeing FMC's who lean into being nice, making friends, and having a personality outside of a weapon and the man they're interested in.

[soldiersam]

The Tragic Accountant

It was a seemingly normal Slornday morning just like any other, and it was a few minutes before service was to start at the Glornch. Attendees were filing into the sanctuary and finding their seats in the pews.

Thomas was usually the last of the acolytes to arrive, and always chose to sit near the back. That morning, he was filled with more dread than usual. The past few weeks for him had been a rollercoaster of emotions, between gaining a new friend with Clay, a new hope in Gropism, a renewed fear of Glornism, and a possible enemy with Theodore, of all people. One thing was for sure, and it was that he'd rather be anywhere else but there. And yet, there he was.

Thomas’ dread was further compounded when he saw the fellow acolyte and wretched bully Sam sitting next to his usual seat. Thomas worriedly looked around for any other open spot, which was now trickier since the spectacle of Bishop Percival’s horrifying win against Commander Peepers drew more attention to Slornday services. Thomas spotted an empty seat next to some random watchdog, but before he could sit down, he felt the hood of his robe get tugged back.

“Hey c’mon Thomas pal, sit next to me!” Of course it was Sam.  

Thomas shuddered but put on a nervous smile. “O-okay!” He complied and sat down with Sam to prevent being tugged around more. 

“Uhm, why aren’t you sitting next to Amy? L-like usual?,” Thomas asked as he pointed toward the front.

Sam shrugged. "She’s mad at me. So I figured I’d sit next to my second bff, Thomas.”

“Second bff?,” Thomas repeated curiously. “Heh, but, y-you’re always saying how much you hate me, always making fun of me for being a friendless loser, always explaining in graphic detail all the ways you could kill me and—”

He was cut off when Sam put one arm around Thomas’ shoulders and pulled him close to give the top of his head a noogie.

“Are ya stupid? How long have you been a Glornist and still don’t know that’s just the way we speak ‘round here? ‘I hate you’ practically means ‘I love you!’ I give ya a tough time to harden you up! It’s what we’re supposed to do.” 

Thomas squirmed out of Sam’s grip and readjusted his red hood. “O-oh, well, it’s just-”

He was again interrupted when Sam slapped a hand to Thomas’ mouth. “Shh! It’s starting!”

🗲

The Most Reverend Bishop Percival ascended the pulpit and tapped the microphone on the podium within. He seemed a bit stern and lacked his usual playful energy. He’d been this way since losing his mitre.

“Salutations everyone, it’s my displeasure to welcome you all here this wretched Slornday morning into our mighty Church of Glorn. Today we’ll be holding our usual worshiper confessions, followed by my sermon titled “How You Can Harness Glorn’s Righteous Cruelty.” Following that is the historical discourse delivered by Reverend Mike titled,” Percy sighed as if he was bored from the mere title, “The Rise of the Intergalactic Mazka Empire Under Glornism and its Fall Under Gropism.”

“We will now begin with our commencement bows and claps. For you new faces among us, feel free to join in or simply observe.”

The Bishop led the congregation through the customary bowing and clapping, then wrapped up commencement with a prayer. Once he said ‘amen’ he sprang his head up and clasped his hands together.

“Alrighty, let’s begin our worshiper confessions, shall we? Any volunteers to start us off?”

Almost every Slornday, Sam was the first to shoot her hand up and go. But this morning, she stayed quiet and put. Thomas definitely noticed this unfamiliar behavior. Did Sam not do anything too evil this week and was reluctant to go? That didn’t seem like Sam… 

So Thomas sat wondering what could be going on as each appointed member of the congregation took turns proudly confessing their sins. Bishop Percival even let a few non-initiated congregants who had been regularly visiting give it a go. While the non-initiated were technically allowed to partake in confession, they weren’t required to like the initiated were. Percival usually ignored them as he thought they were often boring. 

Finally, the Bishop recognized the morning’s confession session was winding down, but he felt like he was forgetting some members. “Now who hasn’t gone yet?”

He squinted and scanned the audience before spotting his answer, sitting together. Ah, right, Thomas and Sam. Well the Bishop knew he’d pick Sam to confess over Thomas any day, so he excitedly pointed at him.

“Ah, Slimy Sam! Where’ve you been all morning? Get on up here and indulge your slimy sins to Glorn and us!”

Sam slowly rose from the pew and gave a bow. He spoke with eloquence unbecoming of him. “Respected Bishop, I must forewarn that my confession this morning is going to be quite unconventional. You see, instead of confessing my own sins, I wish to tell you about a grievous misdeed a fellow acolyte committed on his behalf.”

“Huh? What’re you talking about?,” Percy replied. 

“I wish to report the crimes of Thomas.”

Thomas’ eye widened with alarm. “O-on my behalf? But I’m right here! A-and I haven’t really done anything outside of my usual stuff…”

Sam looked at him. She bent down and retrieved a small business suitcase from under the pew. She then grabbed Thomas’ arm and pulled him to stand up.

“Whatever. May we come up to the pulpit, Bishop Percival?”

Percy figured it’d be fine to hit two birds with one stone to finally wrap up the confessions. “I’m annoyed, confused, and a little intrigued. Sure, get on up here you two,” he granted.

Thomas stumbled behind the confidant acolyte as they dragged him down the aisle. “S-Sam, what’re you doing? I really don’t have anything interesting, you can take your own turn..,” he whispered as he futilely tried to tug his arm out of Sam’s grip.

Sam didn’t reply to Thomas, but just smiled and continued forward. Thomas tried to run through positive scenarios in his head to give this situation yet another pathetic, flimsy benefit of a doubt. Maybe it was just another prank that was hopefully harmless in the end. Or maybe… What if Sam was trying to glamorize Thomas’ sins to help up his approval with Bishop Percival? If that was the case, maybe Sam… Did consider him a friend?

But upon catching a glimpse of Theodore on his way up to the pulpit, all wishful thoughts immediately flushed from Thomas’ head as he remembered their encounter at lunch a few days ago. 

Thomas was too nice. Too weak. Too naive. And the most likely to be sacrificed. Who was he kidding? Sam wasn’t dragging Thomas up there to help him, nor were they his friend. He knew full well he was being brought before the congregation to be exposed as a miserable Gropist. Just one slip up in front of Theodore really had led to this so quickly, huh?

It was hard to focus on thinking about ways to escape this situation when Thomas was so panicked. And before he knew it, he was up in the pulpit, Sam on his right still holding his arm in a vice grip, Bishop Percival on his left, and the entire congregation staring at him. 

Sam set the suitcase on the lectern and tapped the microphone. 

“Wicked freaks of the congregation, Thomas here has been holding out on us. He has been deceitful. The unfortunate thing is, however, his crime has not been Glorn-honoring. In fact it’s us who’ve been deceived!”

A smile creeped across the Bishop’s face as he tilted his head. “Oh? How so?”

Thomas was shaking and sweating. The entire time Sam was talking, he was praying to Grop. Silently, of course, as Theodore suggested. But… It just didn’t feel right. Being silent felt hopeless. Thomas then remembered something he read from the Gospel of Grop (or the Grospel, if you will.) It was an account of a disciple who, when surrounded and persecuted by adversaries, loudly proclaimed their faith in Grop. In turn, Grop granted them a miracle and allowed the disciple to escape safe and sound. It gave Thomas a sliver of hope. It was his last resort.

So when Percival asked ‘how so,’ before Sam could sling her accusation that she’d been looking forward to for weeks, Thomas shouted at the top of his lungs,

“Grop, allow me to survive these demons unscathed and you will gain a devout disciple!”

He then immediately sucker punched Sam in the face. While Thomas was by no means a strong watchdog, the surprise of it all made Sam let go while they recoiled. Freed, Thomas clambered on top of the lectern, over the railing to jump down from the pulpit, and made a beeline for the door. The audience, and surprisingly Bishop Percival, did nothing as they watched the heretic flee in shock. 

And Thomas actually made it out of the Glornch! Uncontested! It was a miracle! But it wasn’t over just yet. He still had to flee far, far away from the Skullship.

“Thank you, Grop! Thank you!,” he shouted as he continued running for the ship’s hangar.

🗲

Back in the Glornch, while the audience was abuzz about what just happened, Bishop Percival looked to Reverend Miriam sitting at the organ. She felt his gaze and looked back at him. He silently gestured his head toward the door. The priestess knew what that meant; she had a target to hunt down. She quietly got up and slipped through the main vestry door to take a back way out of the Glornch. 

The Bishop then turned to Sam. “Ya alright there?”

Sam finished rubbing his eye. “Pff, yeah. Like being punched by a butterfly or something.”

He then angrily gripped his fists onto the lectern, losing his previous eloquence. “Damn it! I was so excited to grill and expose that dumbass myself!” He gestured at the suitcase. “I even got like, criminalizing evidence on his laptop I stole. And Deacon Cyrus helped me get audio of him shit-talking the Glornch! All of that just for him to admit it himself and run away…”

Percival gave a reassuring smile. “Haha, ah, well rest assured Big Top Thomas will be held accountable for his heresy. We will not let Glorn be insulted like this!” He then placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Regardless, thank you for bringing it to our attention, Slimy. And I would still like to hear that audio. Later, though. This situation is the perfect segue into my sermon!”

The Bishop nudged Sam’s shoulder toward the pulpit stairs. They dejectedly sighed and grabbed the suitcase before slinking back to their seat. 

“Well! What an interesting start to our morning, huh folks? The rest of today’s mass will explain precisely why fools like Thomas who try to defy Glorn bring nothing but shame and suffering to themselves.”

The Bishop placed a Glorble on the lectern and opened it up to commence his lecture. And Slornday mass continued on. 

🗲

Just as service wrapped up and attendees were filing out of the Glornch, Reverend Miriam returned to it. She entered through the secret back way which she had left from, out of sight from the leaving crowds. In her arms was an unconscious Thomas. 

When Thomas had gotten to the hangar, workers and guards barred him from taking any hovercycles or saucers since he didn’t have the proper clearance or authorization to do so. And unfortunately, “I’m wanted dead by the Glornitsts!” wasn’t valid enough.

Miriam had tracked Thomas to the hanger with her scrying. When she made it there herself, she found him patiently filling out a saucer request form in a quiet corner. Needless to say, it wasn’t a hard feat to knock him out by surprise and take him back. 

The priestess made her way into the depths of the Glornch, winding her way through dark twisting halls and stairwells to arrive at their very own secret dungeon. She gently laid Thomas on the floor of a cell and cuffed his hands. She stood over him and gave a small prayer to Mother’s Eye, asking her to forgive not Thomas, but Miriam herself, for aiding in the likely-death of yet another watchdog. 

“...But I’m sure you understand by now that it’s necessary,” the priestess concluded her prayer with. After that, she stepped out of the cell, closed and locked the metal bar door, and took one last look at the unconscious Thomas.

“...Dumbass,” Miriam muttered as she turned and made her way to Bishop Percival’s office to let him know their prey was caught.