#it's been 2 years...almost 3 since i legally changed my name

[ikkan]

i dont think friends/family are gonna call me by this name i chose...

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for pretending I cheated on my partner when our common friend asked why we fought?

It will sound fake and fictional, but please bear with me because I'm getting crazy over it. And also sorry for any english mistake, we're not from an english speaking country.

To give some context: I am a man. There was this person, B(m), which whom I kind of grew up with. We went through the same schools from our 6 years old to 17 but we never were really friends. Then, around our 13, I got into a clique that fed into all my bad habits and I started to actively bully B because he seemed like an easy target at the time. I enjoyed it and was encouraged to do so (because I was such an asshole and I'm not even cringing thinking about it, it's worse. I regret it so much and I was a stupid and bad teenager). It was so bad that after years of enduring it, B changed school before we graduated and I went on with my life.

It' was's been about 15 years ago that I graduated.

In the meantime, I dealt with some problems that I had with my family and I went through intensive therapy which changed me for the better, and I came to terms with my sexuality as well.

Flashforward to 2019/2020, I meet with someone online through some games and it goes very well. Thanks to the Covid and the lockdowns, we play even more and get closer. At some point, I talk about an event happening close to my city, and he tells me that he knows about it as well and that we're living close to each other. Because we enjoyed our time online (ngl, we had started flirting although I didn't know how sincere it was) we decided to meet at that event.

And there, I find out that my online friend is B. It's extremely awkward but only for me because he cannot recognize me for three reasons: 1. I changed physically with my puberty finally finishing the job after my 18 birthday, and I found some love into dying my hair. 2. I changed in terms of personality thanks to the therapy I went through. 3. My legal name was changed when I said goodbye to this fucking family of mine and left without turning back (but I was getting sick just saying my last name).

I, obviously, didn't tell him anything about who I really was because I just wanted to enjoy that evening with a friend, and we didn't see each other since he left high school because of me. My plan was just to slowly distance myself from him after that evening but it failed because we had a lot of fun and we actually really hit off and I was dying constantly at the idea that he could find out.

We've been in a relationship sicne the beginning of 2021 and I was decided to just never tell him (horrifying idea I know, anyone with a braincell would have told me that it was bound to be found).

A month ago, I met with an old friend from high school (so yeah, he was in the bullying gang but more of a followers, so we stayed in friendly terms when we both agreed that it was bad) and as he recognized B, he decided to excuse himself and hoped that B would forgive him like he "forgave" me (I never got to tell that friend to shut up about that) so yeah, B found out that I was his main bully who had lied to him for almost 4 years now.

We had quite a big talk about it. How bad my bullying ended up for B; why I lied like that and never admitted it. And even if it went alright, B told me that he needed a break to think about things and it's going to be one month that I'm crashing at a common friend of us. At first, I just said that B and I got into a fight and it was good enough, but as it's been already a month, the friend asked more about it. Not wanting to bring up B's trauma to someone else (especially after our conversation), I just told the first lie that came to me and pretended that I cheated on B and he found out.

Now that common friend is calling me an asshole and keeps reminding me how much they are disappointed in me to have done something so horrifying to B. I keep wondering if I did well to lie like that, or if I should have found another way out.

[palidoozy-art]

While this is kind of a dark day to mention this, I realize I haven't brought it up in like... 2 years? 3 years? Time flies. I meant to say it earlier during pride month, but lost track of things.

For those who don't know, since I have new followers -- I am a bisexual transgender male. I transitioned at about 27, including a legal name change as well as my gender marker officially changed. One of the reasons I actually left my job in California was because I had just started transitioning, and at that time I did not have the confidence that my current workplace would be able to accept that.

I thankfully got a job at EA, which has been almost nothing but supportive and friendly (only one person I ever met here was a dick to me, and she did so in passive aggressive ways like only order me female shirts in spite of the fact that they would not fit me). I actually came out to them literally at the end of my interview, and the HR employee -- bless her -- didn't even bat an eye.

I am currently married to my husband -- a cisgender man. We've known each other since we were 12. He's an amazing guy who, while he had his reservations at the start, has been great and supportive and very much accepts me. Sadly, he comes from a place that is... not so accepting, which requires me to effectively hide from his family (we can't post publicly on Facebook we're married, and when his family visited once I had to actively hide upstairs). But that's a small part of our life. My dad's side of the family has been incredible to me, and I'm very fortunate to have them in my life.

One of my goals for this year is to leave Texas. The heat is part of it, moving closer to my family is another part of it, but most importantly the political climate is... not great, and I don't feel comfortable waiting for the courts to make a ruling on some of the things they're attempting to push through.

In many respects, I have been extremely fortunate. As last time I posted this -- if there are any questions, my ask box is open (I sadly cannot turn on anonymous asks). I hope your pride month was (otherwise) excellent, and I hope the rest of your year is, too. 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️

[thewickerking]

hey. what?

well. For context everyone im assuming this ask is referring to this post and my tags below

im assuming because of the. The.

Many. Prev tags on it lmao but anyways here's more context. ill try to keep specific elements vague cause i don't want to doxx my grandma and by extension myself. But yeah let's go

my grandma (maternal) ran away from home in her teens (not sure the exact year/age but 70s ish) to join the circus and worked there for an amount of time doing ticket sales and miscellaneous jobs that aren't performance based

she met a guy also working there and they dated. this guy joined a satanic cult after joining the circus (? I think. Mightve been the other way around) and performed ritualistic sacrifice within the cult/with his murder victims. he was not in charge of the cult but was an active member and serial killer across around 4 states, maybe more (evidence was found for about 4 states iirc)

anyways he got caught for evidence of multiple murders but confessed to upwards of 20 (they couldn't find evidence of this so its unclear if he was exaggerating or if there simply wasn't enough irrefutable evidence) and went to prison while my grandma was pregnant and she was also arrested as an accomplice and had her kid in prison. She was 18 at the time. Idk how long she spent in prison but it was long enough to have her son taken away

her son (first of her four children, was my oldest uncle on my moms side) has adopted parents who changed his first and last name and didn't let him know about his biological parents (and were also extremely abusive) and so my mother and her siblings and her mom did unsuccessful research to find him over the years and he found our family a few years before he turned 30 (my moms ten years younger than him btw) and we've been in contact since and he was my personal favorite of my moms siblings

Oh also the serial killer got sentenced to life without parole and is currently on death row. My uncle died last year from unrelated circumstance (I posted about it some last year if anyone remembers) and my mom adopted 2 of 3 of his kids (3rd was a legal adult already) and then they got kidnapped and their kidnappers won the custody battle against my mom so. Yeah

Oh also worth noting my mom is the youngest of the four. my grandma had four kids with different men so im not related to the serial killer but he is in my family tree? Anyways yeah different fathers. My grandma remembers the serial killer and my moms father (my abuelito ♡ love him) but doesn't remember the fathers of the middle children (my aunt and uncle). So they're my moms half siblings technically and nobody knows if the middle children have other half siblings on their dads' sides 🤷‍♂️ but my mom has a half sister on her dad's side! She's 2 years younger than me bc my abuelito got married to his ex wife later in life but they're not together anymore (?) Not sure. They broke up idk if they legally divorced but they live in different countries and don't talk to each other. So.

Id love to meet her someday! But I don't know if thats feasible. She lives in Mexico and only speaks spanish so it would certainly be difficult. But I want to.... she almost immigrated to the United States like. 6 years ago?? My mom paid for documents to be legally translated and stuff but stuff happened and it didn't go through.she also tried to kill her mom once. But she's doing better. That's all a long story. We have a picture of her in our house from when she was little!

Ok thats very tangent-y. I have a lot of family stories. But also if anyone was curious this post below was also about my maternal grandmother

shes a white woman who likes to weaponise having "friends" in nepal when people are mean to her. She's a character. if ppl are curious abt any of this i will answer btw i love talking abt my family they're deranged

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

Day 5: Submerged

(Disclaimer: one of the characters in this story belongs to me. For more information on Parker, go here. For my personal headcanons on Murdock, who belongs to the Markiplier Cinematic Universe, go here. And if you’d like to learn more about the mob these guys work for, go here.)

(As usual, I got tons of help with developing the main character of this story from the amazing @sammys-magical-au ! Please go check out their blog and stories!)

(Trigger Warnings: blood/gore, implied murder/death, implied drowning, implied violence, water/the ocean, descriptions of illegal business, descriptions of decay, aquatic insects, strong language. Please let me know if I missed anything.)

Day 1 Day 2 Day 3 Day 4 Day 6 Day 7

___

Parker rolled his shoulders, still not quite adjusted to the straps that connected the tank to his back. They were good and secure…which, of course, was code for pinching and scratching against his skin. 

He’d been swimming ever since childhood; he was more than strong enough to free-dive if he chose. (In fact, if that wasn’t the case, then he’d probably have a few more questions about reality than he already did.) 

Even so, personal skill did nothing to change how the reef he was swimming towards—he could never remember its actual name, so he always just called it Ocean’s Nine-And-A-Half—grew about a hundred feet below the waves.

Fortunately enough, that also meant the reef was outside of almost every legal jurisdiction. In a technical sense, at least.

As often as he visited those sea-caves clustered by one side of the local beach, he typically never swam deep enough to need professional gear like this.

Hell, he usually made sure to keep his head above the water…unless he was out on a job and happened to see unfamiliar figures in the dark.

Unless he had to duck under and hide, peering up at the surface and feeling the breath he had to hold writhe around in his lungs until he was sure any potential witness had moved on.

Yeah, the salt stung the eyes like a bitch, so sometimes he’d take a mask on his exploits (kinda funny, considering the carmine-colored facemask he always wore on land)—but then, that was a simple type. One that wasn’t designed with inner mechanisms that whirred and hissed in time with his breathing. 

The stretchy, rubbery material of each flipper clung around his ankles, almost as though they’d been suctioned to his skin. (And that was the reason he was so grateful that a dive like this didn’t technically require an entire wetsuit rather than just his bleach-dyed swim trunks.) 

Parker shook his head, reminding himself to focus on the water. 

The water was cold. Not the freezing type that forced its way into your bones—not to him, at least. To him, it just felt perfectly cool. Maybe just a few degrees cooler than the water inside sensory deprivation chambers.

(Fine, there was a layer of goosebumps prickling along his skin. But he still adjusted quickly, and the collection of colorful tattoos he’d gathered on his arms through the years helped to sort of cover them, so shut up.) 

The water was dark. Not a gaping, pitch-black abyss that most thlasssophobia-havers probably had intrusive thoughts about whenever they went to a public pool—not to him, at least. More like a deep sapphire. Plus, even as the sun was actively setting, plenty of its rays still filtered down through the surface.

The way it swirled all around his arms, his legs, his torso…it almost reminded him of musical notes. The way music could feel almost tangible if you were feeling angry enough to burrow into the sound.

Sometimes the only way to calm down was to wait and listen and play until you could physically feel each of those notes crawling through your brain. 

It took a moment or two for Parker to actually enter Ocean’s Nine-And-A-Half, but that didn’t mean he stopped swimming. He maneuvered himself around an organ pipe coral and kicked off further, careful to avoid scraping against algae-covered rock formations.

Anemones clung to stone at higher angles, their long, vivid green polyps slowly swaying to and fro.

A small octopus with bulging, pale eyes that honestly made it look like a C- Arts & Crafts project clambered along the sand, staring up at him as he passed by.

A pair of mandarin fish fled from the ripples he sent through the water. 

A banded krait slithered out of a crevice, its sinuous body waving like a ribbon as it slowly-but-surely made its way for the surface.

(Parker made a mental note to bring that up with Azalea the next time he saw her. She’d mentioned her work-collection running a bit low on certain snake venoms during The Pentas Family’s latest meeting.)

He’s gotta be somewhere close, he thought. We were just a few miles away from the city’s buoys when we stopped to drop him…

Although, as he turned a corner in the reef, he was caught in a nearly neck-snapping doubletake when he spotted a cluster of small, sock-shaped creatures clinging to a rock on that very corner.

Sea squirts were basic filter-feeding invertebrates; sure, they came in a variety of colors and shapes, but that was pretty much it. 

These ones, however, seemed to be more on the overachieving side.

They each boasted a strange stripe pattern underneath their translucent skin. Aforementioned pattern was white, save for a trio of little black dots on the part where a face might have been. This might not have sounded like much at first, but when you realized how the stripes really did resemble a tiny spine flanked by tiny ribs that raced up toward a tiny skull with tiny sharp teeth. . .

Parker found himself unable to help but pause—without the regulator connected to the oxygen tank, his mouth probably would’ve fallen open.

Despite all the things he’d done in his career so far, somewhere deep inside him was a tiny kernel of something that demanded an occasional dose of whimsy.

And it’d been a hot minute since he'd gotten some whimsy, and there was some fresh whimsy right-fucking-here. 

So, he had to take a moment to circle around these creepy-yet-cute, strangely skeletal-looking sea squirts.

In fact, aforementioned sea squirts ended up being the key to his little conundrum. 

Because on his third time circling then, he caught something else out of the corner of his eye: a very odd shape that sat about ten-or-so feet away. 

…Well, sat wasn’t the right word. Hovered would be more accurate, considering how a thick, sturdy rope was coiled around the end of it, connecting it to a cinder block that was partially sunken into the sand. 

Adrenaline reaching a boiling point, Parker surged toward the shape. Even with the supply of oxygen literally strapped to his face, his heart and lungs felt as though they were crystallizing from the inside-out.

As he grew closer and closer, he realized that the shape didn’t appear dark or blurry due to the water; no, that honor went to all the creatures that were currently pushing and shoving to nip at it. A few dozen schools of tiny fish all gathered around the mass, truly seeming to move as one, their little scales glinting in the dim light. 

Thin, misty veils of something drifted out from between all of them, slowly-but-surely drifting upward, only to fade into the water before they had a chance to reach the surface. 

Of course, once Parker got within potential touching distance, the tiny fish all darted away before he could even blink. Almost like a magic trick. 

A generous amount of crabs stayed, either not noticing their sudden watcher or not caring about his opinions on their dietary choices. They clambered along what was left of the shape’s clothing—even that thick jacket he’d been wearing those three days ago had already been reduced to a pile of shredded rags. 

Parker tilted his head, feeling an unhinged smile etch its way across his features. 

He knew from experience that decomposition typically took longer underwater than it did on land, but there simply wasn’t much left of his latest target. 

His rotting flesh was an awful combination of loose and taut, desperately clinging to the bones underneath. Not a single square-inch of tissue was unmarked by jagged wounds that were oh-so-clearly strange little bitemarks. His mouth hung open as if in a silent scream, revealing that his tongue was gone and probably not coming back anytime soon. 

Both of his cloudy eyes (such a departure from the dark brown shade they’d been before. They’d been so dark that Parker had barely even seen the way his pupils had constricted as he thrashed and howled through the water) still remained in their sockets, but they’d taken on a definite sag.

Even with his disturbing satisfaction, an icy chill dripped down Parker’s spine as he watched a sealouse scuttle up the target’s neck and along his withering jawline before squirming its way through the space between the right eye and its papery-looking lid. 

Just like before, Parker swam a few circles around the corpse. Only this time, his movements were more relaxed, maybe even a bit lazy, calm. A cacophony from the past tapped its rhythm through his eardrums. 

Screams laced with threats and profanities that eventually bled into gagging and wretching and pleading, which themselves had bled into unintelligible gurgles after a few long, hard-fought moments… 

With that, Parker finally looked up and began wading toward the surface. Toward that dark, rectangular shape that gently bobbed against the water, waiting patiently for him (he wasn’t sure the same could be said for its owner, though).

While he didn’t look back down, part of his couldn’t shake the feeling that the corpse was somehow staring after him as he swam further and further away. 

Another part of him hoped that the corpse was watching him, because it would only cement the fact (if Caliban was here, he would’ve gotten a kick out of that) that the dead fucker wasn’t going anywhere. He would have to sit at the bottom of that reef and think about what he’d done, about how he’d fucked around with Parker and his peers one too many times. 

As always, the surface looked like wobbling glass right before Parker’s head broke through it. The cool air practically slapped him in the face, but that didn’t stop him. He paddled his way around to the bow of the houseboat, hissing through clenched teeth as one of his knees collided with the ladder that hung in the water.

Parker hefted himself onto the deck, shrugging off the oxygen tank right after pulling the eye-mask and regulator away from his face. He then sat back on his haunches, leaning against a nearby lower beam. The burning, aching sensation that slithered through him almost made the muscles in his arms and legs seem to be vibrating. 

Even so, it wasn’t a bad kind of ache. That was just how you knew you’d had a good, effective swim-time. 

Footsteps thudded from down the very short corridor that led into the main reason why this structure was called a houseboat. By the time he looked over in their direction, a purple blur came flying over to crash-land directly into his face. Considering how soft, fuzzy, and obviously harmless this blur turned out to be, Parker didn’t immediately fly into a defensive rage. 

Instead, he simply yelped and fumbled with the towel, pulling it down to see Murdock leaning against the nearby threshold with a patented smirk on his face. 

“Well?” The hitman asked, his deep baritone oozing up from his lungs and into the air. “How’s that buddy of ours doing?” 

“Oh, good,” Parker answered, voice dripping with sarcastic humor. “Totally good. He’s made a bunch of new friends down there.” 

He raised the towel over his head, quickly drying his hair; it wasn’t quite as long as Murdock’s, but it seemed an even darker shade of black in the right light. 

Murdock nodded, chuckling. “And do you think there’ll be anything left of him later in the week?”

“Probably. But even if someone comes across him, they won't be able to recognize him. Let alone find any fingerprints.” 

Deciding that his face was now dry enough, Parker pulled himself onto the very bench he’d been leaning against. He pushed the towel aside in favor of rummaging through the duffel bag he’d brought onboard an hour ago. 

Sooner or later, he found his prized facemask, the straps of which soon returned to their place behind his ears, hiding everything below his eyes from the world. 

“Well, alright then!” Murdock proclaimed, the beautiful mixture of orange and pink and violent on the horizon reflecting in his black-tinted shades. “Job’s officially done.”

He shifted in place, making to turn on his heel and head back to the control-room positioned right beside his bedroom…only to pause, his eyes lingering on his fellow contract-killer. 

Parker raised an eyebrow. “What?” 

“Nothing, nothing.” Murdock offered a coy shrug. “Just thinking about how you’d drowned that idiot in one of the sea caves before you’d dragged him through the water and onto the same spot you’re sitting now.”

Parker snorted, smirking. “That’s what we call efficiency, isn’t it? I couldn’t have just left him to float over by the docks; someone would’ve found him in the next hour.” 

“Oh, I’m not doubting that,” Murdock reassured. Another bout of quiet snickers seeped through his lips as he traipsed down the hall. 

In just a moment, the houseboat’s engine roared to life. 

Parker instinctually held onto one of the nearby support bars, admiring the way the sunlight glimmered against the water. It almost felt like the scene was so pretty because the elements themselves were actively trying to hide what he and his accomplice had done. 

And as the houseboat began to turn in the water, its bow now pointing toward all those glowing buildings that loomed near the Cove Port Inlet’s beach, Parked began humming to himself.

He would be dropped off back home in an hour; he wondered if he’d have enough time to sneak over to the studio and polish up that song he’d been struggling with lately…

@sammys-magical-au @the-matpat-ever @th3w00ds @flaming-dolph16 @nwtbobsessedemo

[cindylouwho-2]

Etsy Deletes the Reselling and Gift Baskets Legal Policies In Favour of New "Creativity Standards"

This morning (July 9, 2024) Etsy released several announcements regarding what can be sold on Etsy, new categorizations for items sold on Etsy, and a new ad campaign. You can read my early thoughts on that here.

As part of this overhaul, they abolished 2 longstanding site policies, namely the ban on reselling in the handmade category, and the ban on almost all gift baskets containing commercial goods. Since they deleted those pages and didn't even mention those rules in any of their announcements, I have preserved those now-dead policies below. Thanks to Bing for still having caches of deleted pages!

First , the Reselling policy (text follows the screenshot)

text of screenshot:

"You have reached the cached page for https://www.etsy.com/legal/policy/reselling/239324376512

Below is a snapshot of the Web page as it appeared on 2024-07-08 

Reselling

“Reselling” is selling an item that you, the seller, did not make or design. Etsy's marketplace includes handmade items, vintage items, and craft supplies. Reselling is only allowed in the vintage and craft supplies categories.

Everything listed in our Handmade category must be made or designed by you, the seller. Reselling is not allowed in Handmade. Read more in our Handmade Policy.

Examples of prohibited reselling include the following:

Creatively repackaging commercial items (for example a gift basket consisting of non-handmade items)

Curating a collection of others’ handmade goods that you did not design or make

Selling items made or designed by another seller who is not part of your shop

Selling traditional handicrafts or fair trade items that you did not design or make

Offering personalization as optional, or featured as a separate item (i.e. an add-on card, gift tag or written note), without altering or changing the commercial item.

Etsy reserves the right to remove listings that do not follow our policies. Sellers remain obligated to pay any fees incurred in listing such items.

Last updated on Jul 25, 2023"

And finally, the policy Etsy outright ignored for many years, the Gift Baskets policy:

"You have reached the cached page for https://www.etsy.com/legal/policy/gift-baskets/239976666926

Below is a snapshot of the Web page as it appeared on 2024-07-07 (the last time our crawler visited it).

Gift Baskets

Repackaging or creatively curating commercial items for resale as a gift basket or set is not allowed in the Handmade category, unless it is part of a new structure (see below).

You may not group new items you did not make into a basket or set even when based on a theme, idea, or life event.

For example, a care package for new parents, a college student, or somebody experiencing an illness containing any new items you did not make is not allowed, no matter how caringly curated it otherwise is.

DO: Include only qualifying handmade, vintage, or crafting supply items. DON’T: Include any mass produced item in a gift basket, unless it is part of a new structure.

If you wish to sell an item that contains some commercial components, this may be possible only if the commercial items 1) have been used as components that form a new structure or sculpture and 2) are physically attached to one another.

For example, a diaper cake is an item where components are creatively attached to each other to create a new item.

DO: Creatively use mass-produced items to form a new structure where the items are physically attached to one another. DON’T: Include newly-made, mass-produced items in a gift basket unless they are part of a qualifying structure.

Last updated on May 3, 2022"

I will have more thoughts on this on my main website blog soon, but yes, this means that many commercial items are now officially allowed to be sold on Etsy, as long as they are listed correctly.

[non-binarypal7]

15 people, 15 questions (on the 15th! 😄)

Thank you very much for tagging me in this game @xagan @theflagscene @visualtaehyun @telomeke ❣️ I loved learning about y’all 🥰

1) Are you named after anyone?

My middle name was given to me in honor of my great-grandmother (one of her children was also named after her and kept that name her whole life, so I don’t feel bad about the fact that I’m changing both my first and middle names legally 😁) (even if no one else had been named after her there still wouldn’t be any reason for me to feel bad about changing my name to better suit me) 😁😁😁

2) Last time you cried?

A couple days ago in the lead up to a traumatic experience that I won’t go into but on the whole I don’t mind crying!

3) Do you have kids?

No, and I don’t plan on passing on my genes, but I can see myself potentially raising a kid in the distant future. There’s a very good chance that I’ll never be a parent, and I’m extremely fine with that. I think the ideal parenthood situation involves people who are adamantly certain in their desire to be parents (and who are prepared to respect the autonomy and complete personhood of their children) I have lots of other thoughts on parenthood, but I’m veering away from the question 😄

4) What sports do you play/have you played?

My primary sports are tennis and basketball and I really miss playing them. I played them frequently growing up and now it’s been quite a while since I played either, though the last time I played basketball was almost a year ago and it was a satisfyingly homoerotic experience and I played well under pressure, so at least I have that to sustain me until the next time I can play

5) Do you use sarcasm?

I do, but pretty infrequently, and generally only with people who I’m confident will understand and not be confused or hurt by it

6) What’s the first thing you notice about people?

If it’s an in-person meeting, probably their height, mannerisms, accent, facial expressions if I can see their face; if it’s a text-based meeting, probably their writing/spelling/grammar/punctuation style, use of emojis and/or emoticons, etc. + degree of formality for both in-person and online meetings

7) What’s your eye color?

My eyes are a bit of a kaleidoscope of colors, but the most dominant color is green

8) Scary movies or happy ending?

I don’t watch many scary movies, but I can enjoy a scary movie with a (relative to the plot) happy ending, like The Blue Hour directed by P’Nuchy Anucha Boonyawatana 😄 The Blue Hour isn’t extremely scary, but I’ll take any opportunity to encourage people to watch that film 😁

9) Any talents?

I love to sing ☺️

10) Where were you born?

U.S.

11) What are your hobbies?

Writing (predominately fan fiction and poetry, I’d like to journal and write poetry more often), engaging with Thai media, and learning languages (Spanish, Thai, and Japanese are my primary target languages) are currently my main hobbies

12) Do you have any pets?

Yes ��� Luna is a wonderful doggy whom I love very much

13) How tall are you?

163.83 cm (5 feet 4 and a half inches)

14) Favorite subject in school?

Ecology

15) Dream job?

I feel capable of being fulfilled in numerous fields - ideally I’d like to help contribute towards environmental activism and sustainable practices, as well as regulations to hold companies accountable for their environmental and socioeconomic impacts

Tagging @dropthedemiurge @thepancakelady @7nessasaryevils @ablazenqueen @fairlylokai @ullvide @topcatnikki @fandork @springkitten @arisprite @wereflamingo @gaym3bo1 @ragingbyesexual @rares-posts @kornswasianguyswag

[fuck-customers]

Have any of you guys had a manager/coworker that you were honestly fine with, but everyone else hated and you can't figure out why?

So I've been through 3 store managers in my time working at my current company and the first 2 were HELL CUNTS, just absolutely horrible. And the current manager is fine. Tolerable at worst, nice at best.

A small summary of SM #1:

-screamed at me in front of an entire store of coworkers and customers and physically pushed me out of his way when he wanted to use the store computer, but I was using it first

-would schedule me for recovery/go-backs and would lecture me for not being able to finish them all in my 4 hour shift and blame me personally to the rest of the store. Was later told by a coworker that she would see him go around the store and grab random items off the shelves and throw them in a cart to create another "go-backs cart"

-would assign me one task and then take me off task A to do task B and then take me off task B to do task C, etc etc etc and I was never able to finish anything and then would throw me under the bus to other managers and claimed I didn't do any work

-would ask me to come in for a shift on my day off and when I showed up to the store to clock in, he would ask why I was at the store and either pretend like he didn't call me in or pretend like he "forgot" to tell me that he already got coverage

-just generally would talk down to me and belittle me as if I were a small child or an animal

-there's probably more, but I probably blocked it out so I could continue going to work without going on a rampage

SM #2:

-was only there for a little over a year, but fired/forced all my coworker friends to quit

-would gaslight me about anything and everything; store policies, things she said, things other managers said, etc.

-also would assign multiple tasks at the same time and refuse to let me complete one

-hired new people left and right and then refused to train them so the new employees didn't know how to do anything and made more work for everyone else

-waited until after 5:00 on Saturday, the last day of the work week to post the schedule for the next week and then revised it multiple times throughout the week each week so no one ever knew when they were working

-regularly changed my schedule to cut my hours and then would attempt to call me in throughout the week + would cut a shift and then try to get me to come in for a different shift on the same day after revising the schedule to give me that day off

-scheduled people, but mostly me, 3 hour shifts so she wouldn't legally have to give them a paid break

-most importantly, fabricated a fake story to attempt to get me fired for a fake EEOC complaint, which would've effectively ruined my entire future

The current SM:

-is a little bit ditzy/spacey

-is wound a little tight/is a little bit neurotic

-???

-That's about it?? Almost every employee hates her and I cannot figure out why. I suspect that the previous SM (SM #2) is somehow involved, since every current employee other than me and 2 other people (who also don't mind her) was hired by SM #2. None of them have given me any reasons that make any sense. She was a little bit snippy with them? Ok? She didn't yell at them in front of customers or call them names or swear at them. They claimed that she made the store messy/disorganized, when she had only been here less than a week and the previous SM #2 didn't do any recovery or cleaning of the store for a year. One of the complaints I heard literally imo translated to "she asked me to do my job" Like, I also don't like to do my job, but that's what a manager is supposed to do. Tell you to do your job. One of my leads and a small group of employees have banded together and decided they wanted to report her to HR and get her fired. Because of the above mentioned "incidents" (I don't think they actually submitted the report though. Or if they did, HR looked at it and laughed and threw it away)

Posted by admin Rodney.

[aether-friskets]

wip questionnaire tag game yay

thanks @ap0stle for tagging me in this!! :D

The WIP im gonna talk about is uh. well it doesnt really have a name i just call it "that game i want to finish eventually" or "the survival horror game idea" lol, I'm bad with names so itll prob remain that way for a while

What's the First Part of Your WIP that You Created?

I can't recall exactly when this was, but I remember I was specifically listening to this video which, judging by its age, would've been around 2 years ago now. Something about the black and red blair witch game art used as the cover (which, i... totally legally... played that game out of curiosity later on, wasnt big on it as a blair witch fan or a horror fan in general, but you will see one little element from it as one of a few inspiration points for whats kind of becoming a major mechanic in my game at this point lol) mixed with the music itself gave me this mental image of someone driving on a road through the woods with that very black and red lighting, and i had this feeling that they were looking for someone. That's technically the very vague basis that sprouted into my game idea, which has changed a lot since then, and now I don't think a scene like that will even happen. Aside from that, my first concept that's actually stuck around, is the protag looking for their sibling (usually my brain leans sister so i may go that route, but i tend to imagine characters w/out gender in mind til later lol) and sorta ending up in the wrong place at the wrong time as a result. I have some more stuff in mind of course, but a lot of stuff is still pretty vague lol

If Your Story Was a TV Show, What Would the Theme Song/Intro Be?

Oh man this is such a fun thing to think about conceptually, I feel like the WIP is almost too much of a WIP to be sure... But it'd probably have to feel very 2000s, maybe have some kind of industrial edge? Something to capture the idea of an ordinary person descending into something they couldn't possibly be prepared for i guess loll Those things aren't necessary, but the setting is mainly going to be in this as yet unnamed city during the mid-late 2000s? I haven't settled on the exact year yet so that may not be fully accurate lol. The game probably will get some kind of intro style thing, because I absolutely LOVE that in the silent hill games (and also twilight princess had something like that!! which is very nostaglic for me lol) so I think it would be awesome to do in mine lol I feel like the closest I've heard to the vibe I imagine are like. 1. Into to The Mine from Lost in Vivo 2. Broken ALSO from Lost in Vivo (i swear something abt the music in this game just has the vibes) 3. Theme Of... by Drackfreeee I guess it makes sense because it's a silent hill inspired song that you can even hear bits from the game's intros in there but. man. it's got a dreamlike quality that fits the more surreal elements i have in mind well, plus i can totally imagine it playing in an intro thing showing a bunch of scenes from the game and setting that scene of descent When i get to that point in making the game, ill probably look back at songs like these for ideas on what'll work

What Are Your Favourite Characters You Made, and Why?

Since this thing is still so much a WIP, I don't have a tonnn figured out about the characters, so it's kinda hard to pick. But I can talk a little about what I DO have figured out! As I said previously, the protag is gonna be looking for their sibling. The basic idea being that they're visiting their sibling in this new city they've never been to before, and things go all wacky sideways real fast. I feel like I'm either gonna love 'em or hate 'em because due to the unintentionally personal nature of this story that I've been embracing more as time went on, they're probably gonna be the most like me out of the cast. I'm hoping to make them an enjoyable protagonist to play as tho, not annoying but not TOO bland or anything. The sibling is probably gonna end up reflecting a lot of my sister, cause, as i said, accidentally personal story that I'm kinda just embracing at this point lol. I wanna not make any of the characters 100% like a single person I know, so I'll probably mix in traits from other people I like lmaooo. but we'll see what they're like by the end. One thing i already DO know is I really wanna circumvent the idea of the person you're trying to find/save being this "damsel in distress" type, so I think it'd be great if when you finally reunite, they're dealing with the whole situation way better than you LMAO. or at least on par. The hardest part about that tho... Is I'll probably have to make a half-decently competent partner NPC for that part of the game... I've also had this idea for a guy based on a dream I had. I think they will be playing a part but I'm not sure yet, as stuff is still very vague at this point. The idea is of someone who is "helping" you for part of the game, only to fuck you over later on because, what can I say, I love the heartbreak of getting totally screwed over by a character you trusted sometimes :3 The idea being you'd make remote contact early on and they'd promise to help lead you to your sibling but in reality either A) they've just been trying to lead you to your death subtly lmaooo or B) more likely option, theyre tricking you into helping them instead, and then will leave you for dead once you actually help them. I feel like it'd be fun to write a guy who is a total opportunist and probably a smug asshole, idk lol There will probably be other characters? but these are the only ones I have in mind so far, and as you can tell, they arent very fleshed out at all yet

What Other Pieces of Media do You Think Your Fanbase Would Share?

Jeez, the idea of garnering any kind of fanbase in and of itself is kind of cool but scary lol I figure they'd probably like a lot of the stuff that's inspiring me in the first place, like Silent Hill (duh), Cry of Fear, Jacob's Ladder, a bit o' Twin Peaks... Basically if you like some guy going through some weird fuckin' psychological shit lmaoo More specifically, i want the vibes of stuff like. standing in a subway station at a weird hour, feeling like the only person left on the planet. Opening a door into a room that shouldn't logically connect. Cryptic phone calls and texts that don't seem like a person would make them. Desperately trying to reach someone, to find the answers, but it seems like the place itself is fighting against you. Stuff like that, I guess

What Has Been Your Biggest Struggle With Your WIP?

Man, what hasn't? I don't have much experience making games so I'm learning a lot mechanically as I go, but I also have never properly finished an entire original story before. I think the main thing, is like... I'm scared whatever I create will feel too derivative of the works that inspired me, that the thing I create will ultimately fade into the shadow of other things that did it better. So every time I have a new idea, I worry about if it'll come off too much like [x thing] and that's been making the process even slower loll Aside from that, I know the character's primary goal, and I have certain locations I think would be cool to include, but I don't know SHIT about any of the details of getting from the start to the end and what will fall in-between, which does make it tricky lol. I need to really consider what kind of path I want them to follow, and what will happen after they reach their goal, stuff like that. It's all just very vague right now and trying to work out the details is almost intimidating even tho thats the main part of making a story.

Are There any Animals in Your Story? Talk About Them!

At the moment? Not that I'm aware of. There may likely be enemies with animal-like appearances, though. I could see that being a thing I do. But I haven't really gotten into monster design just yet.

How do Your Characters Travel/Get Around?

At the moment I'm suspecting primarily on foot, however my concept for the intro of the game involves the protag taking the subway. So there may be some subway shenanigans too, idk.

What Part of Your WIP Are You Working on Right Now?

I'd say the main reason the story is still so vague, is I've been trying to get the main technical/mechanical elements set up before I get too much into the details. Or maybe I'm just stalling. So, I'd say I'm mainly working on stuff surrounding the non-story parts of the game. But in terms of the story, I want to flesh out the protag and the sibling more into proper characters first and foremost, I'd say.

What Aspects (Tropes, Maybe?) do You Think Will Draw Your Audience in?

I'll be real I got no idea but... I guess if I think about it from the perspective of what I think would draw me in from an outside view...

Use of classic survival horror stuff like fixed camera angles (plus I'm going to have both tank and analog controls so more people can enjoy it :])

Putting a guy in A Situation

The general atmosphere and setting (as I sorta said, mid-late 2000s urban enviro with weird illogical stuff happening and potentially kind of dream-like elements, i hesitate to say liminal but maybe a bit liminal? I also want to go for a ps2-ish graphics quality cause i feel like its criminally underrated lol and some people may feel like me on that part and like that)

Vaguely queer protag? like i said i dont have much fleshed out but if they're gonna be based on me at all u KNOW that bitch aint gonna feel cis or straight i'm sorry it's simply fact (also admittedly I've been wanting to make them like some kinda genderqueer or somethin because its my video game and i can do what i want, and seeing human protags that are nonbinary in some way gives me life)

Weird-ass shit??? like if you vibe with weird silent hill dialogue or the weird stuff that just. happens in twin peaks, im hoping to bring a similar energy in my own way

Possibly more stuff as I flesh things out more lol

What Are Your Hopes For Your WIP?

Honestly I just hope I make something that I feel proud of. I wanna make something that makes someone feel the same way that stuff like Silent Hill, Cry of Fear, Lost in Vivo, Twilight Princess, hell, UNDERTALE did, where that shit changes you. Where you can feel the love for the genre or medium it's based upon. But at the very least, I just hope at least one person likes it, I guess That'd be enough for me

Uhhh erm I have no idea who to tag I am so bad at this part.... If you want to do this consider yourself tagged :]

[wytchcore]

[ ID: 4 selfies of the same white person. The first is in a car and captioned 1 day on T. The second is in a nature park and captioned 1 year. The third is in a park and captioned 2 years. The fourth is on a sidewalk and captioned 3 years. End ID ]

8/14

so it was technically a week ago but i forgot on the day of and then forgot to post when i remembered... anyways, im officially 3 years on T!

its kind of wild both how much and how little progress ive made? i still havent legally changed my name or gender, i havent done any research into top, im still otherwise unmedicated and un-therapized.

but, on the flip side? since thay first picture, ive moved out. ive made a space for myself. ive rebuilt my social circle from almost the ground up. my roommate and i host a monthly game night that's really been taking off. im slowly rediscovering my love of writing. we're finally gonna paint the living room this weekend and i'll finally be able to decorate the walls again.

a lot of things are still shitty. but my desk is the cleanest it's been in a while and i just resigned my lease. even though it's supposed to storm today, it won't be storming tomorrow.

probably.

[cutieparadox]

OK PERSONA OC EXPLANATION BECAUSE. YES. I FINALLY FIGURED EVERYTHING OUT. UNDER THE CUT. if you saw me struggle to add a line break no you didnt.

I keep referring to my persona ocs and acting like everyone knows who they are and what I’m talking about, so, yeah here they are.

This is an original story, so this doesn’t happen during any of the games, or have any of the canon characters, this could be an alternate timeline, maybe one where the p2 timelines never split?? That’s not super important, but it does take place in sumaru city.

Or more accurately, it takes place in Yokohama! I’ll call it Sumaru City, but all of the background shots I’ll draw are just Yokohama. So.

The main cast is all based on each persona game, so for example Asuka is persona 3, so she’s blu-themed, and she's coming to terms with the limited time she has and to stop caring about other people because of it. Nana is based on persona 2 so she’s scarlet red themed and her character development is being like “yeah horrible things have happened to me, but I can decide if I become more bitter and angry because of it, or I can become a loving and supportive person instead.”, etc, etc.

So all of these people (Asuka Iwasaki, Nana Akiteru, Mikuru Saki, Ruuna Narumi, and Oka Morishita)

are childhood friends, Oka, Asuka, and Nana being the first to meet, and then Saki and Ruuna move in and meet them after, and they become INSEPARABLE like these 5 are just a package deal. They are split up between the two schools from persona 2, but they just run to the middle point once school ends to hang out anyway.

Ok so for the actual PERSONA stuff!!

In 2022, (when this story takes place), a strange phenomenon has been happening for about 4 years.

People have noticed objects or ideas from their dreams appearing in reality, but only to them. Reflections change to their fantasy self, surroundings shifting for only a moment.

Mental illness diagnosis and hospitalization have gone up tenfold, even if the patient's family history doesn’t have any listed psychosis cases. It’s baffled scientists and other researchers for years, as there seems to be no rhyme or reason to it.

More recently, a particularly extreme set of cases has started happening all over japan. People have started suddenly going into a psychotic breakdown, speaking absolute nonsense and parading through the streets, possibly hurting other people or causing property destruction. They also end up admitting things they would NEVER admit willingly while in this trance, I have this vivid idea of a married man falling victim to this, and admitting to his wife that he never actually saw her as anything other than a friend and that he only married her to ignore the fact that he was gay and in love with his best friend. This character wouldn’t be important, just an idea of what happens.

They can not be stopped unless death or stamina runs out. Eventually, they run out of energy and collapse on the spot! Just. Crumple. These patients almost always fall into a coma and die after a month or so. When they are in that coma, their brain shuts off completely. Not even essential brain waves are active, and yet, their heart still beats?? I haven’t figured that part out uh

The apparent cause has been privately researched by two scientists by the names of Lain Hayashi and Ayaka Suzuki, as well as their assistants Ami Iwasaki and Ichiro Narumi.

Ami is Asuka’s Cousin, and Ichiro is Ruuna’s older brother and legal caretaker, as well as the owner of the house they live in. Ami lives there too, her and Ichiro have been dating since they were in school.

Both of them are super cute together. I adore them. the heterosexuals ever.

The “Lab” (I haven’t thought of a name for it, probably something like project blank) came up with the theory of the “Rem cycle” phenomenon, as well as the idea of the “inside”

Only persona users can enter the inside, so out of the research team, only Ami and Ichiro can enter it.

The inside is a HUGE towering hospital with a large labyrinthine courtyard.

I’ll talk about the courtyard first, it’s like mementos essentially. Something like..” forgotten dreams are laid to rest here” so it’s overgrown and stuff. It’s actually off to the side, so it’s like. Out of the way.

The individual dreams are separated into wards. These wards are basically pockets of whatever dream the holder is having. So, for example, if someone is having a dream where they are the Prime Minister, the dream world would be that version of japan. Or if anyone had a dream about being a princess in a Victorian castle then the ward would be that area of the world, and more particularly whatever castle they would live in. Persona users are not exempt from falling victim to this. Using my last example, one of my ocs is actually like that. She is completely aware that she is in a dream, and that her real body will die. She’s able to control everything around her because of that awareness. This is exclusive to persona users. But in most cases, at least the only case I had written which is aforementioned, they have to fuse with their shadow, therefore taking its place. I haven’t worked out all the logistics of that, so come back to me on that later. I just know that fusing causes heterochromia, with one eye being their natural color, whichever one the dominant side of their handsis, and the other being the yellow that shadows are known for. It also causes incredible power shifts that can be very physically dangerous. It doesn’t however cause any split personality tropes, because the shadow is them, so there’s no battle for control type things. Hypothetically there could be if you fuse with a shadow that is not your own, but I haven’t thought about that much.

The goal of these persona users is to kill the shadow and release the holder, or in the case of the fused people, get them to relinquish control and allow the ward to crumble and for them to return to reality.

When in the inside, persona users get their own outfits. Basically the metaverse outfits or magical girl transformations. Small colors change depending on the Ward, however.

Another interesting thing, particularly skilled persona users can bend the inside to their whims, if only in certain ways. Things like weapons appearing from thin air, floating/flying, destroying different structures,etc.

Two shadows end up joining the team as well after the rest of their awakenings. They are completely safe and stuff no like. Betrayal.

They didn’t have a name so they asked the team to name them.

Shadow A ends up asking for “the prettiest cutest loveliest name you can give me” so, she got Kokorohime MajiBaton Loveha. The ultimate KiraKira bs name. Everyone calls her Hime but she insists strangers call her by her full “legal” name, much to everyone else’s dismay.

Shadow B asked for any name that didn’t sound like that. So they got Natsuro Masa. Yay! New team members get. The two move in with Ruuna and Ami and Ichiro! Ami thought they were so cute so she was fine with it, And Ichiro was too tired to care and they had an extra room anyway. He basically just said “whatever kids have fun”

Eventually, they named the team “ dream saviors” or “YumeYumis!” I just call them the saviors in my head.

Other random stuff includes:

All of the saviors' (and Ichiro and Ami's) personas are the muses from Greek mythology! Some of these are super shallow relations but uh. Ignore that it will make sense eventually!! Here is The list of personas and how they connect to the characters are:

Ami has Erato, the muse of Love poetry. She’s like dangerously in love with Ichiro, like. Girly would put her life on the line for that man. (and it’s completely mutual dw)

Ichiro has Clio, the muse of history. Uh. He’s smart! That’s it!! I kind of didn’t have any other ideas for him I’m so sorry my baby boy.

Nana has Melpomene, the muse of tragedy and chorus. Nana has gone through some stuff. Like really. I haven’t exactly decided what. But I do know it’s some STUFF. So uh. Tragedy!

Saki has Calliope, The muse of epic poetry. Saki is a hardcore theater kid. She works for a theater troupe and is their rising star!

Asuka has Euterpe, the muse of music. She’s the headliner of a metal band. Yeah. Kinda clear there.

Oka has Polyhymnia, the muse of Hymns and sacred poetry. She’s a writer. Yet again, that’s it!!

Hime has Terpsichore, the muse of dancing. Hime's inside outfit (or what she wore for her entire life before getting pulled out of the inside) was a ballerina ensemble. Yet again, super shallow, but I feel like she would like dancing anyway.

Natsuro has Urania, the muse of astronomy! She’s space themed, but like 70’s science fiction space stuff??? You know what I meant!!

Last but not least, Ruuna has Thalia, the muse of comedy. Joking and being like, high energy is her coping mechanism. And uh. Yeah. That’s it!!

You might also be asking “why don’t Ichiro and Ami go save these people themselves” because they literally can’t!!

One, they are disallowed by Lain and Ayaka to do anything outside of looking around, and killing any random shadows walking around the hallways. They also just can’t enter the wards. The saviors are the “keys” to the wards because of fate and stuff. If the two followed behind them they could, that’s actually how they found out how they are researching the rem cycle.

Anything past any of this I don’t know. Lol.

[nixie-chan]

Speed Boost

If anyone would have told me 3 years ago that I would be a selfie queen I would have laughed in their face. “Thanks. I needed a good laugh”, et cetera. Yet here I am, still mid metamorphoses, and I lost track of how many selfies I took (and shared) since March of this year. I no longer avoid mirrors and cameras, and my overall personality is blossoming.

I’ve grown a lot over the last two years, and it feels like I hit one of those speed boost panels you find in some racing video games about nine months ago. My confidence and sense of self have vastly improved. I filed a petition to have my legal name changed to what I have been going by socially for almost 2 years now (I have a court date on the 6th to appear before the judge). If all goes well I’ll also be picking up a letter from my GP that week, and I can start updating all of my legal documents.

For those of you who are reading this: How have you grown in the last two years? Even if you don’t sound off in the comments, I encourage you to reflect on that question, and then look forward. Where do you see yourself in two years?

Ok, that’s enough deep stuff for now. Time for some fluff. I was pointed to an A.I art generator that uses selfies as seeds. I think it clocked me as transgender, because the hair colouring almost always has the transgender pride colours.

[accessible-art]

[ID: A comic about the San Francisco Columbarium.

Panel 1: Text reads “In 1929 San Francisco moved its dead. Burials had been banned since 1902 due to a lack of space for the living. In 1923, the city ordered existing cemeteries to be relocated south, to Colma. Six years later, the work began in earnest. Graves were dug up. Bodies were collected. Headstones were smashed and repurposed into sea walls and gutters.” Workers are illustrated digging up a cemetery.

Panel 2: Text reads “At the last minute, one building was designated a memorial, sparing it from the wrecking ball… a Greco-Roman style Columbarium, built in 1897, and housing the remains of thousands of San Franciscans.” Next to the text is a drawing of the building.

Panel 3: A drawing of the building with text reading “Memorial or not, the Columbarium was promptly forgotten about.”

Panel 4: A drawing of the slightly more battered columbarium surrounded by construction with text reading “Years passed. A whole neighborhood sprang up around the building.”

Panel 5: The decrepit columbarian surrounded by a busy neighborhood with text reading “For almost six decades, the Columbarium was left to decay.”

Panel 6: Text reading “In 1987, its fortunes changed. New owners hired Emmitt Watson to restore the ruined building. Now 58 years old, Emmitt still remembers the first time he set foot inside at the age of 32.” Below the text is an illustration of Emmitt Watson, a Black man in a work uniform, animatedly saying “It scared the crap out of me! I walked in and saw two raccoons, pigeons, mushrooms growing all out of the walls. The floors were slimy and green."

Panel 7: Text reading “Emmitt spent the next 26 years almost single handedly transforming the Columbarium from a neglected, frightening wreck into a city landmark. Next to the text, Emmitt stands next to a ladder and buckets of paint as he works on painting the walls gold and says “I broke my backside when I started working here. If you could collect all the sweat I’ve dropped you could flood San Francisco."

Panel 8: The restored Columbarian, which is multilevel and has ornate gold, blue, and white panelling, and gold finishes. Emmitt stands at one of the levels and says “But look at it now. People think a whole crew did it. I’m the whole crew.” Text to the side says “The Columbarium is radiant. Light filters gently down through the stained glass that caps its soaring dome. Its rooms still bear their original names, the Greek words for constellations and winds. The Columbarium is one of the few places left locally that can legally house human remains. Restored to its former glory it’s again become a popular final resting spot for San Franciscans.” Below that text is four illustrations of urns in the columbarium. The first two are traditional, while one is a gefilte fish can next to a chinese takeout box and the other is a microscope, books, and a rabbit sculpture. Text overlaid on top reads “They join residents dating back to the turn of the century. The modern take on urns, however, is distinctly more whimsical.”

Panel 9: Text reads “Emmitt comforts grieving relatives and cares for the displays. He tells visitors stories about their residents. But he has a quibble with the terminology.” Below the text Emmitt looks over one of the resting places and says “They call these things “niches.” I don’t like that word. It sounds morbid. So I call the small ones apartments. The big ones are called condos.” He turns to look towards the viewer and says “People love that word. “I’m going to my mama’s apartment.” When you think of death you think of sadness. But there’s still love with the living relatives that come in.”

Panel 10: Text reading “Despite almost 26 years of work, Emmitt’s restoration of the Columbarium isn’t complete. Emmitt thinks it may never be.” Below, Emmitt stands outside the Columbarium and says “I already know I’m not going to finish. How many more years do you think I got in me?” To the side text reads “But Emmitt’s not worries— he’s already got his own “apartment” reserved. He’s even got an urn picked out. Below is an illustration of a paint bucket with a speech bubble saying “I’m going in a paint bucket.” The comic is signed “nd ’14” and “andywarnercomics.com”

The image in the reblog is a photo of Emmitt standing in the Columbarium. End ID.]

In honor of Day of the Dead, here’s a repost of my comic about the San Francisco Columbarium and the man who spent 26 years restoring it.

This comic originally appeared on Medium at The Nib. Go check out my other work there.

[trashquisitor-shirozora]

The "I Can 'Pin' Posts on Tumblr Now? Since When?" Intro/Masterpost

Greetings and welcome to the "Who The Fuck Am I?" post written by yours truly, whoever the fuck I am. Now that I'm back on my Fandom bullshit again in at least 2 blogs, I thought I'd re-introduce myself.

I am 2nd gen Korean-American on the Best West Coast. I ID as she/they/shiro, and ace/demi. I'm in the millennial bracket (aka, I am a Legal Adult) so be mindful when interacting with me. I do what I can to be antiracist and am always learning to be better.

I am some iteration of "shirozora" on: LiveJournal, Dreamwidth, AO3, Tumblr, Twitter, Instagram, Discord. My first Fandom 2.0 was political/pundit RPF and my first fandom fallout was Racefail '09, so you could say I've Seen Some Shit. Been 5+ years since I last engaged in actual Fandom, yet here the fuck I am.

Fandoms I have written/drawn for (FFN years do not count, I purged that account): political/pundit RPF, Supernatural, Tron: Legacy, MCU, Star Trek (AOS), Dragon Age, Mass Effect, Final Fantasy XIV, Star Wars/The Mandalorian

A Short List Of Things I Wrote in No Particular Order:

Lost Symphony (T): SPN; Dean/Cassie, Sam/Jessica, pre-Dean/Castiel; for the Racebending Revenge challenge - "Mary Ahn Winchester died on the ceiling of the nursery on November 2, 1983."

We Are Pilots (T+): Tron: Legacy; Sam/Tron; for the Tron Kink Meme - "Six months and Sam still can't shake off his father's ghost, so Quorra suggests returning to the Grid to find the answers he needs to move on."

Wishing Well (T): Captain America: The First Avenger; Steve/Howard, Steve/Peggy, unfulfilled Howard/Peggy/Steve; for the Cap Kink Meme - "And you just wanna feel like a coin that's been tossed / In a wishing well, a wishing well."

A Thousand Eyes Staring Back (T+): Mass Effect 2; Kaiden/m!Shep - "His problems start at Horizon, aka that time Kaidan Alenko was having a really bad day and his former CO was supposed to be dead."

Waking Ghosts (T+): Dragon Age; Dorian Pavus/Male Trevelyan Inquisitor; the Mummy (1999) AU nobody asked for - "Dorian Pavus, formerly of Qarinus, is an archivist at the Magisterium research outpost in Hightown."

Seasons Change (T): Black Panther/MCU; M'Baku/T'Challa - "A fisherman finds a dying king in his nets and Hanuman offers M'Baku an opportunity to repay T'Challa for sparing his life at Warrior Falls."

born in a thunderstorm (T+): Star Trek: AOS, Captain Marvel, Thor: Ragnarok, Guardians of the Galaxy; Kirk/McCoy; the worst AU I ever wrote - "Kevin Riley insists that James Kirk didn't die on Tarsus IV. Nobody believes him."

Dangerous Dreams series (T) - The Storm; The Suns; Between Planets: Star Wars/The Mandalorian; Din/Luke; the reason why I'm writing this post - "To want something for yourself, that is a dangerous dream."

I cross-post and occasionally write about writing at @shirozora-writes. But I bet a bunch of y'all stumbled into my little sandbox through @shirozora-draws, so let's talk about that!

I suffered from artist's block for almost 4 years. That ended when I became utterly fixated on "So Grogu has two dads now - oh no." I fucking ragequit Star Wars after the fucking world lied to me about The Last Jedi* and now I'm doing the most insane and involved fanworks because of Star Wars. The fuck???

To end this unapologetically long-ass Intro Post, here are my 3 favorite recent doodles:

The original post is here. First time animating with Clip Studio Paint and I had a two-day meltdown over it.

The original post is here. Fun fact: the file name is "homoerotic chin tilt yolo". Also, 6.4k notes? You guys are wild.

The original post is here. The final illustration from The Suns.

*I hate The Last Jedi the most not just because it's racist sexist garbage that trashed everyone except Kylo Ren whoever the fuck he thinks he is, and jumpstarted some of the most toxic fandom behavior I had the displeasure of witnessing, but also because I read so much praise for it before walking into the theater, paying for a ticket with my own money, and realizing 5 minutes into the film that I was gonna have the worst time of my life. I can't and probably will never watch Knives Out because I still haven't forgiven the director for the psychological damage. This is 100% a TLJ Hate Zone.

[danniburgh]

Sins of the Flesh (priest!Dave York x f!reader)

Pairing: priest!Dave York x f!reader

Summary:  His mind shouldn’t be on the new catechesis teacher as he cleaned the chalice after handing communion. His thoughts shouldn’t be on the young girl he knew for so long as he blessed the congregation and finished mass.

But you were different now. Something in you had changed. “Lord, have mercy on me.”

Word count: +10.9k

Warnings: religion! catholic religion to be precise, a lot A LOT of religious references and undertones (shot every time you find one lmao), age gap (around 15 years, reader is legal), smut, unprotected p in v, oral sex, breaking of celibacy vows!, catholic guilt, me making divine metaphors... i think thats it.

A/N: first of all this is all @asta-lily​’s fault, she asked why no one had turned this man into a priest and i said “ok ill do it” so i did it, she is to blame. also i wanna say thanks to the pocket wives that encouraged this creation, sorry my loves, this isnt as slutty as yall thought lmao, and thanks to @alliterative-albatross​ who gave me all the bible verses that shaped this story as well. and i wanna thank the creator of this playlist that i listened over and over while writing this, and yeah, sorry for this monstrosity, love you <3

Masterlist // Read on ao3 // ko-fi

comments and reblogs are eternally appreciated 💓

moodboard by @asta-lily

“So whoever knows the right thing to do and fails to do it, for him it is sin.”–James 4:12.

Sunday 1.

Like a piece in a puzzle.

That’s how you fit in.

There, sitting in the middle of a ten people polished wood bench, eyes on the four feet tall crucified Jesus on the wall above the altar, ready for the first sermon you were to hear after coming back home.

Home. That was the name.

That church felt like home.

You were enjoying sitting there, among the children you met a couple of hours earlier when you were introduced to them as their new catechesis teacher, breathing in and out the myrrh incense burning and invading the navel and your lungs, filling them with new energy, getting them ready to feel the love that you were sure was about to pour over you.

You heard your name behind you and you turned around to see Mrs. Stevens, one of your mother’s friends waving at you from two rows behind.

“Hi, honey!” she smiled at you and immediately you reciprocated “I heard you were in town, are you staying this time?”

You drowned a chuckle inside your chest and bit your lip, nodding. Just realizing you even had missed the venomous messages hidden behind the kind words mouthed by old catholic moms.

“Yes, Mrs. Stevens, I’m staying this time.” you replied, the woman lifted her hand a bit to the sky and you smirked to her.

“God bless, I bet your mom is delighted you’re here!” she muttered “I know she missed you terribly all those years you were in that school.”

“It’s called college, Mrs. Stevens,” you reminded the woman, and she rolled her eyes, making you chuckle softly again “but do not worry for my mama anymore, I graduated, I’m staying for good.” you told her, amused at the way she acted as if you staying at home was some godsend blessing.

The organ began to play on the upper balcony behind everyone and you saw two altar boys, carbon copy of each other, almost rushing their way to the altar, and behind them… Father Dave.

You smiled softly at the sight of him as he walked solemnly to the altar, his green chasuble flowing with the air and the movement, there was a thought you had all those years you were away from home because of school, always coming back to Father Dave York: the young priest that decided to stay in the first congregation he was sent to, the one that became a pillar to the community, the holy man that held the direct link to God and that gave you your first communion, the one you missed when you went to attend mass at the church near campus because no one gave the sermons like he did. For some reason, whenever you least expected, you thought of him.

You saw him putting his bible on top of the pressed cloth over the altar, kneel and kiss the center of it and cross himself. And then, after he closed his eyes and muttered a prayer to himself and to God, he opened his deep brown eyes and he looked at you.

“Let us pray.”

Your mouth dried when his deep timbered voice, with the help of a small microphone on his altar, wrapped the entire navel and you with it, he looked at you as he cleared his throat and he opened his arms to the sky, breaking eye contact with you.

“Lord, have mercy.” he murmured, and the congregation replied to his prayer as you struggled to find the air that had escaped your lungs.

As Father Dave guided the congregation through the sermon and through the prayers, all you could see was him.

In some way, there was something different about him you hadn’t noticed the last time you were there; you didn’t know if it was something about his deep voice as he recited the credo by muscle memory, the way he walked from one side of the sanctuarium to the other as he talked about the scripture or the way his hands wrapped around the chalice when one of the altar boys handed it to him as the organ echoed all around the navel, announcing the communion.

You stood up and walked to the back of the line and sighed as he lifted the wafer to the sky, and your eyes closed by themselves when he lifted the chalice and took a sip from the sacramental wine and locked your eyes on him as the line moved.

As soon as you were in front of him your lips parted and he smiled at you softly.

“The body of Christ.” he murmured, his deep brown eyes on yours as they filled with tears.

“Amen” and you opened your mouth.

He put the wined wafer between your lips and his thumb brushed with your chin, making your skin burn as you brought it inside of your mouth with your tongue and forced yourself to walk away from him.

As you returned to your seat with the gold cross that hung from your neck between your fingers and kneeled to pray for the forgiving of your sins, all you could think of was brown, deep eyes, and a soft, brief touch on your chin that burned more than the wax of a burning taper.

Dave felt it.

The way you looked at him throughout the entire service.

And it made him feel different.

When you rose from your seat to walk to the communion line, he saw the way your body moved, almost as if you were floating instead of walking.

He knew you were back, and his heart was happy you were finally home.

But he didn’t expect to see you so changed.

And he didn’t expect the way your eyes had made him feel.

Then you were in front of him, and he smiled because he remembered the first time he handed the body of Christ to you, years and years before.

And your eyes filled with tears as his breath hitched when your lips parted for him as he fed you the sacred soul of the savior.

God, have mercy.

His mind shouldn’t be on the new catechesis teacher as he cleaned the chalice after handing communion. His thoughts shouldn’t be on the young girl he knew for so long as he blessed the congregation and finished mass.

But you were different now. Something in you had changed.

Lord, have mercy on me. He thought as he entered the sacristy.

“Whoever conceals his transgressions will not prosper, but he who confesses and forsakes them will obtain mercy.”–Proverbs 28:13.

Sunday 2.

“Forgive me, father, for I have sinned.” Dave heard your voice next to him and felt the air leave from his lungs. Not you, please God, not you.

You had been avoiding Father Dave for almost the entire week.

And you felt guilty about it.

You couldn’t even look at him in the eyes and not think about those dreams you were having about him.

If God was all love and perfection, why was he tempting you with dreams of Father Dave, his own servant, touching you in places you got shivers from, warming your body with his own, putting his mouth on your skin as you repeated his name like it was the sanctus?

Holy, holy, holy.

Why was God putting inside your head the sins of the flesh you had already asked forgiveness for? Why was he making you desire a forbidden man? A man that was not to be perceived as a man but as the representation of him on earth.

That morning, when you walked into the church to impart the catechesis class, you saw Jesus on the cross and you saw him look at you. And you knew he knew.

All omnipresent, all omniscient, all omnipotent.

You couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Almighty God why were you thinking about him so much?

And the resolution in your mind was asking for forgiveness, you needed to pay penitence for those thoughts you knew you did.

But were you really about to confess to the man you had been dreaming about that he was invading your every thought?

“It has been two weeks since my last confession.” you mumbled, playing with your cross over your neck, Dave breathed in deeply and intertwined his hands on his lap.

“What are your sins?” he asked, closing his eyes as he remembered his own.

Dave was always a man of faith. It was in him from birth. He had been taught and trained to not fall into any temptations and so far his life had been devoted and dedicated to God and only to God.

But your eyes and the way you saw him, and the way your eyes made him feel when they locked on his, had him spiraling down into decadence.

Sometimes, dedicating his life to the word of the Lord made him forget he was still a human, he was still a man.

He had needs.

And he was alright before your eyes. Before your holy eyes were on him.

He had dreamed of them; he had thought of them; he had imagined them when he was in the limbo between sleep and awakeness.

He had dreamed of your lips, of your lips on his skin, he had thought of those lips that just looked like they needed someone to wet them and bring them back to life; he had imagined those lips of yours in places of his body he swore never to use.

He had prayed for them to disappear; he had begged to his God to erase those thoughts of his mind and free them from the temptation that was incarnated in you, in your body, in your eyes that denied to see him when you were in the same room, in your hands as you moved them to teach the children, in your legs trapped in the tight denim of your jeans, in your lips as you smiled to everyone but him, in your entire being, just by existing.

But they had increased, like a tamed flame sprayed with gasoline. He had a fire in his chest, one that was spreading through him as he was closer to you.

He needed them gone; he had sworn to never look at a woman as an object of desire; he had sworn on his life and he had vowed his commitment.

But you were there, kneeling next to him, separated by the thinnest patterned panel, holding the matches and the fuel.

“I’ve been having… improper thoughts, father,” you whispered, closing your eyes and left your necklace alone, clutching your hands together as tight as you could, you felt the aura change and the air grow thicker between him and you, “about a man.”

Dave opened his eyes at your confession and frowned. A man?

He knew you could tell him whatever you wanted; he knew he wasn’t allowed to ask in for details; he knew he was only there functioning as a link for you to get absolved from your sins and you were a young woman granted of free will and enough time to ask for absolution but he wanted to know; he needed to know who that man was.

“He is ol–older than me,” he heard you mumble and his hands tightened their grip on each other “and I can’t have him, father, I–I’ve been having these thoughts about a forbidden man.”

Dave’s mind went reeling, and he didn’t understand why. He didn’t like to assume about the life of his congregation members, he never did, but you were talking to him, after he had been dreaming about you for days, after you two shared something about desiring another man. And he was angry. He wanted to know who. He wanted to know who was keeping your mind the same way you were keeping his.

“He keeps me up at night, thinking of him, that is,” you whispered “I’ve–Jesus,” you let out the air of your lungs and Dave breathed in deeply once more “I’ve touched myself thinking of him.” you said under your breath and Dave felt his chest tug and turn.

“Does this man… know what he is causing in you?” he muttered with a frown and heard you sigh.

“No, I don’t want him to.”

“Alright, child,” he replied after a few seconds, and made a grimace of disgust at the pet name. It felt wrong, and he felt dirty with the word on his mouth, “do you repent these sins?”

“Yes, father, I do.” you closed your eyes at his words and wanted, for once, to be brave and tell him he was the one roaming around your mind. But it wasn’t fair.

“Please, recite in silence the act of contrition,” he muttered to you and you obeyed, feeling your eyes fill with tears.

As he waited for you to finish, he did the same on his side of the confession box

I’m choosing to sin and failing to do good.

“Amen.” you said, and he murmured the word to the ceiling.

“I think the word you do for the church,” he started, and you wrinkled your nose at the thought of him knowing it was you “the devotion you have, and how you repent, you don’t need to pay penance,” he muttered separating his hands and putting two fingers on the edge of the patterned panel that separated the two of you “through the ministry of the church,” your breath hitched as he whispered the words to you, and you saw with teary eyes the shadow of his fingers on the panel “man God give you pardon and peace,” you bit your lip and unclutched your hands, lifting your fingers and pressing it to his as two heavy tears fell from your eyes.

Dave felt the pressure of your touch and felt his hand tremble.

“And I ab–absolve you from your sin.” he said under his breath, pressing back.

“Thank you, father.” you whispered, not moving your fingers. You could feel the warmth of his through it and for a few seconds, you could also feel his eyes on your face.

Dave was the one to break the contact first. Absentmindedly brushing his fingers on his stole as he saw the shadow of you move and get out of the confession box.

He sat there, thankful you were the only one that morning and thinking about what you had told him.

A man of God, a man of hope. He had hoped, even if it was a sin and even if it was forbidden by pure creed and vow, that you were feeling the same as he was.

For a moment, he wondered about those thoughts… Were you thinking about that lucky old man touching you? Were you thinking about that man kissing you? What did that man look like? He wanted to be that man; he wanted to be the one whose touch you desired; he wanted to be that man you thought of as you sneaked your hand inside your underwear at night and brought yourself to pleasure. He wanted to be the one whose kiss you yearned for as your sex ached for attention; he wanted to be the one whose fingers you imagined as your own were buried deep inside you.

He fisted the flesh of his thigh over his dress pants and forced himself to stop thinking of you like that.

Dave stayed inside the confession box for twenty minutes more, praying for forgiveness, as he had done every night since you had been back.

At service, he saw you further back on the benches and he tried not to sneak glances at you as you sat there with your precious eyes on the crucifix above him, avoiding him at all costs.

And at communion, he tried not to brush your soft skin with his fingers as he fed you the wined wafer, failing when his knuckle brushed your cheek, his chest deflating when he noticed the way your face quirked in pain when you muttered Amen at him. Dave tried not to make anything of the fact that you kneeled more time than anyone else on the congregation after receiving the communion.

And when the service was over and he was alone in the sacristy, he tried and failed to not think about your skin, your eyes, your hands and your lips all over his neglected body.

That sunday night Father Dave masturbated in the shower thinking about you with your fingers deep inside you as his mind imagined it was him you thought of when you touched yourself in the darkness of the night and prayed for forgiveness.

He shouldn’t be thinking about you like that.

“Beloved, I urge you as sojourners and exiles to abstain from the passions of the flesh, which wage war against your soul.”–1 Peter 2:11.

Sunday 3.

“Father, sh–shit,” you bit your lip to stop yourself from moaning as your pointer and middle fingers circled your wet clit under the covers of your bed, your legs spread open, the soft cotton of the sheets grazing softly at your inner thighs as you imagined your fingers being one of Father Dave’s, as you imagined him next to you, with his arm above your head as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear and nibbled at your neck while his other hand played your clit like a master pianist. You imagined the hardness of his erection pressing patiently on the skin of your hip, wetting it with pre-semen, making your body burn with the feeling of his warm naked body beside you.

As your other hand played with your nipple you imagined his eyes taking you in, you imagined his lips on your skin, were they soft? you bet they were, and you bet as well his hand would be surprisingly rough for a priest.

“Jesus, fu–fuck.” the knot inside your lower belly exploded with the thought of him and his hand and his body and his lips and his priesthood and you came with a silent scream that made your ears ring for a few seconds and your legs tremble on the bed.

As you hazed out, ready to fall asleep again before your alarm went off to go to work at the church, you felt that familiar guilt cripple inside you and settle in your chest, warming up and leaning against your heart.

Dave was panting, he fisted his hand as he leaned on the tiled wall of his shower and his other hand moved desperately on his cock. The water was still warm, and he closed his eyes shut as he imagined it was your hand on him, giving him the pleasure he was seeking, as he imagined you were behind him, your lips brushing against the wet skin of his back, your free hand around his chest, gliding softly at his skin, making him whimper with your touch.

It was so early for him to be so hot over you again; it wasn’t good for him to give into these desires he had and had been praying so hard and so much to get rid of.

He didn't want to keep doing it and he surely didn’t feel good after it, but his body ached for you, his chest turned every time he thought about you, every time he saw you around the church, he felt the deepest, hottest desire for you and your hands and your body and he just couldn’t help it.

His hand gripped and pumped as fast as he could and he came with a silent groan, opening his eyes as he finished milking every drop of his seed and watched it mix with the shower water and go down the drain. Along with the decency and morality that was left inside him.

You heard your name being said, and you turned around as you finished picking up your things from the small desk you used to teach the catechism; you saw Mrs. Vega, the church custodian, a small, old lady that had known you forever, walking towards you.

“I’m sorry dear, but I want to ask you for something.” she said when you smiled at her.

“Of course, Mrs. Vega, what is it?” you put your small book inside your bag and hung it from your shoulders.

“You see, the little twins that help Father Dave are sick today,” you frowned at the mention of Father’s Dave name but let out a sad sigh at her statement, “and they can’t come help with the service, you’re the youngest of the teachers, could you do it?”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise and felt your stomach churn inside you at the thought of standing next to the altar for a whole service.

“Me?” you asked, your voice in a high pitch as Mrs. Vega reached for your arm and tugged you to walk out of the chapel and into the navel of the church.

“Yes, dear, remember only the youngest get to do it.” she obviated, pulling you with her to the transept and up two steps to the sanctuarium “you only need to hand him the communion things and the holy water, I will prepare everything for you.”

“Why don’t you do it?” you asked in a whisper, not daring to take a step further closer to the altar. Mrs. Vega turned to look at you, and she narrowed her eyes.

“Since when are you shy, girl?” she asked with a teasing smile “I remember you singing in that kiddie choir we used to have and doing it terribly,” you chuckled at the memory and bit your lip “it’s only until the boys get that bug they got out of them.” she palmed your arm, and you breathed in deeply.

You looked up at the crucified Jesus above the altar and silently begged him for anticipated forgiveness.

Dave almost cursed when he saw you standing next to the altar as he walked across the navel.

The thought of who would replace Bobby and Chris on their altar duties didn’t even cross his mind as he was more worried about praying for the boys and sending them some sweets and pleading for the cleansing of his soul after the incident on his shower earlier that morning.

As he stepped up to the sanctuarium your eyes locked on his and he noticed you lips parting when he nodded his chin once at you, he noticed the way you swallowed as you nodded back and for a brief second, his imagination ran wild and made him believe you felt the same way as he did about you.

Even if it was the wrongest thing to think about.

It was like torture.

An hour of torture.

You got to see him kneel behind the altar and kiss the white pressed cloth softly as he stood, as you wanted and wished to be the altar’s cloth he pressed his plump lips on, he crossed himself and you mimicked his movements. And for a brief fraction of a second, as he opened his arms to the sky, you saw him looking at you out of the corner of his eye. And his eyes burned in your skin, they made you feel like your chest was aflame.

The communion time arrived, and he turned to you as you grabbed the chalice with the wine, his eyes locked with yours and you felt them weigh heavy on your body.

Dave couldn't concentrate, he felt on his side the way you were looking at him. It was heavily distracting for him to have you there, in his space, so close to him.

His hands brushed yours when he took the chalice from you and he stood there for less than a second, his fingers on yours. His soft touch and warm skin made your lips tremble with the emotion that touching him gave you. You felt a shiver go up and down your spine and the small hairs of your nape rose as his hands trapped yours.

You caught your lip between your teeth as he broke the contact and you knew he noticed; he looked at your lip as you bit it, and you blushed under his and God’s gaze.

You watched him and he felt you observing him as he prepared the wafers and wined them inside the chalice.

Your throat knotted when he lifted the cup to the sky and you felt your mouth dry as he brought the rim to his lip and his neck strained while he took a sip of the sacramental wine.

Because of the closeness you could see the movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed the wine, you noticed a small drop of the crimson red liquid escape from his lips and the way he trapped it with his tongue settled deep inside your belly and leaked through your sex.

The pain of the greatest guilt you’ve ever felt in your short life appeared again and clawed its way inside your chest and to its now usual spot right next to your heart, you were struggling to keep your thoughts at bay; you were looking at Father Dave, right in front of you, doing what he dedicated his life to, and you were imagining him using his hands on your body instead of handling the instruments of the church.

Would he touch you like that? would he treat you with the same delicacy as he treated the body of Christ? would he caress you as softly as he did the chalice? would his mouth be warmed with your taste as it was by the wine he drank?

Dave turned to you and he saw you clutching your hands together, you walked towards him slowly, and he couldn’t stop thinking about the way you moved, almost as if air went through you, as if instead of giving steps your feet barely touched the floor because you were floating.

Everything slowed down, the music of the organ in the balcony, the prayers of the congregation, even the way he moved slowed down so he could focus on your face; on your sweet eyes, those that had brought into him the feeling of humanity, on your soft skin that had scorched his hand when he dared brushed his fingers on it, on your lips, those lips that he couldn’t pray out of his head.

He lifted his hand with the wined wafer, and even the way those holy lips of yours parted was slowed down.

Your eyes connected with his and Dave felt it in his body, deep inside his stomach, the temptation, the whispers of his mortal body as it reacted to your actions; he put the wafer between your lips delicately and pushed it inside your mouth, and then, as if by the grace of God in the heavens, you closed your mouth while he did it, and your lips wrapped softly around the pad of his finger as he pulled them away from you.

And just like that, the world started moving at its usual pace.

His skin tasted sweet. And you spent the rest of the service thinking about what other parts of him would taste like that.

Would his neck taste the same if you kissed it? would his chest feel like that if you nibbled on it? would his lips be that warm or would they be warmer?

Dave’s finger was burning.

He wanted to chop it off his hand just to stop feeling that flesh-eating guilt of enjoying your lips, your soft, warm lips around it, touching his skin, wetting it with the slick of your mouth.

After the service ended and Dave blessed the congregation, he saw you rush to the exit and he felt the sting of the guilt and the sadness. He wanted to talk to you and offer his apologies before you went home.

Sunday 4.

You weren’t there.

And Dave missed your eyes on him.

“I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.”–Romans 12:1.

Sunday 5.

As soon as you walked into the church you felt the eyes of all omnipresent beings on your body. As if the desire that burned deep inside your body left marks all over your skin, that could be visible for all those that looked carefully enough.

You heard your name behind you and jumped slightly, startled. You turned around and felt your blood fall to your feet.

“Father Dave,” you muttered, more to help yourself acknowledge the fact that there he was, standing in front of you, out of habit, his white tab collar was the only piece of his attire that hinted the fact that he was a priest. You tried to control your body as you felt instantly that flame inside your chest beginning to spread.

“You weren’t here last week,” he said, hesitating to step closer to you “are you okay?”

You nodded a few times and bit your lip to stop it from trembling.

“Are you sure?” Father Dave asked, and you dropped your eyes to the floor and saw him give a couple of steps towards you, your breath hitched and your entire body began to shiver when you felt his hand on your arm “I’m sorry.” he whispered.

“What?” you looked up to see him and you could notice his pained quirk, his brow furrowed, his eyes narrowed and his lips… those lips you had spent all but two weeks imagining printing themselves and making marks on your skin, on a sad, downwards line.

“Can I please talk to you?” he said again in a whisper and you opened your mouth to reply, but only air came out, “please?”

His deep brown eyes were on yours and you felt your chest turn by the feeling of having him so close. You nodded, and he turned to the sides, as if he was making sure there was no one there, and guided you to the sacristy.

“What are you doing?” you asked, a bit altered when he opened the door and let you in first, followed you and closed the door behind him.

“I just needed to be alone with you for a minute,” he clarified, you let your eyes wander around the small space where he got ready every day for the services instead of letting them settle on him, because you knew being that close to him wouldn’t help your situation at all “I wanted to apologize.”

You frowned and looked at him. He had his back almost glued to the door and his hands together, his thumbs fidgeting with each other.

“Apologize for what?” you muttered, and he sighed.

“I���m–I make you uncomfortable, and I’m sorry.”

Dave felt stupid telling you that, but it was his truth; he spent every free moment of his days when you weren’t near him thinking maybe it was because of him. It would make sense, that you didn’t want to be there because you didn’t like his closeness, that you didn’t want to be there because he was taking advantage of his position to steal glances and give furtive touches.

He understood, but you were an excellent woman, devoted and committed to the congregation, and he knew he needed to stop or you would leave and he would never see you again. And he couldn’t have that.

“You aren–you…” you babbled, and then the look he gave you made you lose your words.

His eyes were all over you. And you could feel them on your skin, how they took you in, how they navigated through your body and every inch of you was immediately on fire.

Then he looked at your face and you swore you could see in his brown eyes the deepest form of devotion there was. And your mouth was agape and your eyes filled with tears and suddenly he was in front of you and his hands were orbiting your face.

“Can I touch you?” he said, and you nodded.

He cupped your face, and you felt his warm, rough hands scorching your skin as you closed your eyes. His warmth started mixing with your own and you could feel him inside you already. It was as if everything you needed in life was already there.

“You don’t make me uncomfortable,” you whispered, closing your eyes as his fingers started caressing the skin of your face, tracing your features “I swear you don’t”

Dave let out a sigh when his thumb traced the edge of your lips and he so wanted to lean down and take them in his. There had been so long since he last kissed someone and he, for a split second, forgot everything about him and the only thought in his mind was you.

“I don’t?” he asked under his breath as a tear rolled down your cheek and he brushed it off with his knuckles, you shook your head and opened your eyes and he felt his heart fill with the purest love he had ever felt in his life “you swear?” you curled your lips up and nodded twice.

“Can I tell you something?” you muttered, looking up at him and losing yourself in the depths of his brown eyes.

“Always.”

You allowed your hands to slide to his shoulders and you let out a relieved sigh. They fit perfectly.

“Yo–you are…” he nodded his chin, his hands still cupping your face softly as his eyes studied your face, you let out a trembling sigh and grabbed as much courage as you had left within you “you are the man I’ve been thinking of all this time.”

Dave widened his eyes and the movements of his hands stopped, he looked at you, searching for any hint of mischief or lie, searching for something that could tell him you were lying, that you were playing with him. But there was none.

“That’s why I wasn’t here last week,” he heard you say as he felt his heart burn with the flames of his desire and love “I was embarrassed after what happened at the communion.”

You looked at him for a second, waiting for the rejection, waiting for him to tell you what you already know, that he can’t for you what you wanted him to be, that he can’t give you what you wanted as his duty was with God and not with the mortals, let alone with a woman.

Father Dave had resigned to the pleasures of the mundane world; you knew that, but you also knew he deserved to know, even if nothing would happen.

“Am I?” he asked you, bewildered after such confession, you nodded and moved your hands to cup his face, a gesture that made him close his eyes. You wondered when was the last time, if ever, he had been touched like that “we can’t” he replied, opening his eyes and leaning in to you.

You could feel his breathing mixing with yours as the implications of his words fell on you.

“We can’t” he repeated, pushing his forehead to yours as you trembled under his touch.

“You want to?” you asked him and Dave asked for guidance in his mind as you started crying and wetting his hands. He nodded, and you sobbed.

“I can’t” he whispered, and you shook your head as he looked at you pouring your feelings from your eyes.

“Kiss me.” you pleaded, looking into his brown, deep eyes. Making him frown.

“What?”

“If you’re not gonna give me anything, at least kiss me.”

His face quirked from confusion to pain in an instant, and you gripped the hold on his face.

“Please, Dave.”

Dave sighed at the way you whispered his name without calling him a father, and deep inside him he was grateful. With you he didn’t feel like a man of god, with you, letting him touch you and touching him back, he only felt like a man. Like the man he never got the chance to be.

“I–I” he started, and you shook your head. Dave looked into your eyes and all the air he had stored in his lungs left his body in a hurry, you were the most precious being he had ever seen, and for a second, he wanted nothing but to make worth the fact he had you in his hands “shit.” he said under his breath.

Dave brought your face up to him and printed his lips on yours, stealing the little air and the close to no coherence you still had in you. You let out a soft moan out of the surprise and out of the feeling of your entire body warming up to his temperature.

His lips were as soft and as wars and better than you had imagined, they were a bit dry and hesitant on yours, but the contact of them with yours made you feel like you were floating away from the realm of the living.

Dave didn’t want to stop kissing you. He didn’t remember the last time he had kissed a woman, and in that moment he wasn’t kissing any woman he was kissing you; the precious being that had been in his mind for weeks and that had never left.

Unsure of his movements, he let you take control of the contact and soon enough you were sliding the tip of your tongue along the seam of his lips, Dave let out a surprised grunt and opened his mouth slightly of you, and you took his lower lip with your mouth. And he let you kiss him all you wanted, enjoying the contact of your slow, wet, warm lips on his less experienced ones until he was sure his lungs were screaming from the lack of air.

When he broke the kiss, he left a small one on your forehead and pressed his lips there and you closed your eyes to feel him settle inside you

“I’m sorry.” you whispered to his neck. And he nodded slightly.

“Me too.”

“But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lustful intent has already committed adultery with her in his heart.”–Matthew 5:28.

Sunday 6.

Your knuckles grazed softly with the sacristy door and you heard the muffled noise of the latch and the door opened.

“Hi,” you smiled and Dave looked at you up and down “got your text.”

“Come in.” he motioned his hand for you to hurry and you turned your head to both sides and walked into the sacristy, closed the door behind you and slid the latch.

Immediately after the door was locked, you felt his hands on your waist and his chin on your shoulder.

“This is why you texted me?” you teased and he moved to let a kiss on your jaw.

“I missed you.” he muttered and turned your body around for you to face him.

“You didn’t.” you smiled at him and wrapped your hands around his neck, grateful for the apparently deliberate choice of him to take off his tab collar.

“Yes, I did, I missed you all day.” Dave leaned towards you and took your lips in his, already knowing, after less than a week’s practice, how you loved being kissed.

His lips were as warm as they always were, his tongue barely present if not just to taste the sweetness of your lipstick, his hands always steady on your waist, and at the end, his forehead on yours, just taking in your breaths with his.

“Mass starts soon.” you said, and he nodded, sliding his hands to your middle back to wrap you closer to him.

“I know.” he left another brief kiss on your lips.

“You gotta get dressed.” you murmured against his lips.

“I know.” he muttered back and kissed you again.

“Want me to help?” you asked under your breath, just for him, as if you saying it as low as you could would stop God from listening.

“Yes, I would love that.” Dave replied and gave into another deep kiss that stole both your breath and made you want to stop the time so you could kiss until your lips fused together.

“C’mon you need to get ready.” you broke the kiss and stepped away from him, making him smile. You wandered around the sacristy and found his tab collar. You sighed and took it in your hands.

Dave looked at you and noticed the way you looked at the soft plastic piece, he walked towards you and raised his hand to grab yours. As you felt his hand on yours; you turned your head to look at him and smiled softly, and you moved your hands, raising them to carefully lift the collar of his shirt and clasp the piece around his neck.

“You okay?” he asked in a whisper, you nodded and bit your lip at the sight of him in front of you.

Dave moved and walked to the small table against a wall with a large bowl of water and you gazed at him as he washed his hands and whispered a few words. You leaned onto the wall just looking at him go to a small cabinet near the opposite corner and took a white, folded linen garment, which he unfolded and you recognized as the long robe he used under all his attire.

He slid it off and whispered another prayer again as he let it fall and graze his ankles. His eyes went to you and you smiled at him, he next grabbed a green square that you also recognized and you walked to him and took it out of his hands.

“Let me do it” you whispered, and he nodded, you unfolded the long stripe that was the stole and found its middle, Dave crouched a bit to help you and you let it fall around his neck over his shoulders.

“Return to me the stole of immortality,” he whispered, looking at your eyes, your throat dried at the deepness of his voice “which I have lost in the sin of my first parent and although I, unworthy,” he continued and took your hand in his “approach thy sacred mystery grant to me everlasting joy.”

You gripped his hands and felt your throat knotting around itself.

“Why are you praying to me?” you asked under your breath. He cupped your chin with one hand and brought you close to his face.

“You’re holy.” he whispered and left a soft kiss on your lips.

“Stop it.” you chastised him and he shook his head, giving you a soft smile that you reciprocated immediately.

You turned to the table and saw a long, golden cord and you took it.

“Not that one.” he muttered, and you frowned.

“Why not?” you saw him taking a deep breath as he took it from your hand and left it back on the table.

“The cincture… it means chastity and continence.” he replied under his breath and you let out all the air of your lungs as he took his chasuble and put it on without looking at you.

“Dave.” you called, and he lifted a hand to you as he said the last prayer. When he finished, he looked at you and as if he read your mind, he smiled at you and shook his head.

“Don’t,” he whispered, taking you again in his hands and pulling softly so your head rested on his shoulders “don’t apologize please.”

“I need to,” you mumbled against the light fabric of the green chasuble “I’m keeping you from your vow.”

Dave grabbed your shoulders and pulled you away from his body, his hands slid to your face and you gripped his wrists as he brought your face to his.

“You’re not doing anything, my love,” he muttered the last words directly on your lips as he stole a few kisses from your trembling mouth “you’re perfect,” he panted out and you shook your head “I’m doing this because I want to, please understand it,” he kissed you again, a bit more desperately “you’re the most divine creation I’ve ever laid my eyes and hands upon,” he whispered rapidly on your lips “and I want you to be mine.”

You gasped as the words left his mouth, and he gazed at you.

“Dave...” you started, but he didn’t let you finish, he wrapped his arms around you and brought your body to his, tightening the embrace as he thought of the implications of what he just asked.

Dave lifted his eyes to the ceiling and for the first time in years, with you slowly wrapping your arms around his waist, exactly over the place the cincture was supposed to go around, and the sweet aroma of your perfume inundating his senses, he felt really close to heaven.

“I want you to be mine too.” you whispered into his ear, and he smiled, leaving a kiss on top of your head.

“How beautiful and pleasant you are, O loved one, with all your delights!”–Song of Solomon 7:6.

Sunday 7.

You stirred on your seat again, the organ was playing the latest song before Dave would bless the congregation and wrap up the service and you were nervous.

You glanced at the crucified Jesus above him and you felt his eyes on yours; you felt him shove his holy hand on your chest and as the last notes of the song inundated the navel, you felt your throat sting with the green tint of your deep guilt, but at the same time, the rest of your body drown with the red warmth of your love and desire for Dave.

Is it worth it? you heard inside your head and your immediate response was yes.

Eternal damnation in exchange for a few hours of love. It was condemnedly worth it.

The service was over and you stood up with the rest of the congregation; you talked with a few people on your way out of the church and slowly and patiently you waited for everyone to disperse.

You walked around the gardens outside the church and slid between the gate that marked the beginning of Dave’s small house inside the church grounds. You rummaged around your small bag and pulled out the key he had given you earlier and with nervousness and the familiar guilt settled next to your heart; you let yourself into his house.

You turned on the lights. The space wasn’t big, but it wasn’t small and everything around smelled like him. For a priest’s home, the place lacked religious imagery, and you automatically chastised yourself for thinking about his priesthood again.

You sat on the loveseat next to the door as you waited for him and got dragged inside your head again; you talked about doing that throughout the week and you had agreed it was something you both wanted. But your head sent you through an unwanted train of thought and you sat there, thinking about the future. Something you hadn’t talked about.

After all, he would still be a priest and you would still be a young member of his congregation. You could spend time with him and let you love him and let him love you as much as you two wanted, but in the future… what else was there for you?

You could never ask him to leave his habit for you, you could never ask him to leave his life for you, you could never do something like that to him. But you were unsure if something like that had any other path but failure.

The door opened and there he was, unclasping his tab collar and dropping it on the end table as you rose from your seat and walked to him. He smiled at you and his hands found his place on your waist.

“You’re here.” he said, not surprised but relieved.

As he took off his attire in the sacristy and walked to his house from the church, he had a few minutes to think about what he was about to do. He didn’t allow himself to overthink it because if there was something he knew was that he wanted it; he wanted it more than he had wanted anything in his life. He couldn’t explain it even if he tried, but he knew there was something about you that made him feel human, there was something about you that made him feel like he belonged somewhere, maybe the way you talked to him, maybe the way you kissed him, maybe the way you always seemed to understand the moral and spiritual dilemma he was in. He didn’t know, but he knew that he loved you, even if he wasn’t supposed to, even when he wasn’t allowed.

And as he thought of it, love was one of the laws of the God he represented, and he felt it deeply.

“I’m here.” he pulled you to him as you wrapped your arms around his neck and nodded.

“Thank you.” you closed your eyes and bit your lip, shaking your head at him.

You felt his lips on yours as they re-discovered your kisses and his hands roamed to your middle back to press your chest to his.

You were amazed by how fast he had learned how you liked to be touched, how you liked to be kissed and caressed, as if he was just trying to commit to memory everything you ever wanted and he wanted to do it to you to please you.

Dave slid his hands from your back down to your hips and moved you softly to the side, without breaking the kiss he snaked his hands to the back of your thighs and lifted you. You smiled in his mouth and wrapped your legs around his waist as he walked to his bedroom.

When you crossed the doorframe you started leaving small kisses on the skin of his neck and he sat on the edge of his bed with you in his lap, you were already feeling the hardness growing inside his pants and his hands started grazing up and down your thighs as he let you taste his neck how you best pleased.

Dave was in a haze. He understood then the power of physical touch combined with deep love; it enhanced the sensations, the flame inside his chest was burning him from the inside out with a deep desire he was sure he had never felt before, and you were there, moving slowly on his lap as you devoured the skin of his neck and kissed slowly around his jaw.

“Dave,” you whispered as you licked his earlobe and pulled out a shiver from him, he hummed in question “touch me.”

He didn’t hesitate on questioning where, his hands roamed all around your body, they were big and warm and they were rough; you cupped his jaw with both hands and took his lips in yours with a wet, open-mouthed kiss that he followed as his hands snuck inside your shirt and you moaned softly at the feeling of skin to skin.

You moved out of his lap and stood up in front of him, Dave let out a soft whine at the sudden loss of your weight on his body but stopped when you moved his legs open and stood between them.

“Take off my shirt, please.” you told him, not in an order but he obeyed, he grabbed the hem of it and lifted it, you raised your arms and felt his lips on your rib side as you finished taking it off and dropped it on the floor behind you.

Dave put his hands around your torso and licked your skin experimentally, which made you gasp at the feeling of his wet tongue against your skin and he smiled to himself, doing it again and nibbling on the same spot softly.

His hands slid to your waist and without being told to he unbuttoned your jeans and dragged them down slowly, his eyes directly on yours. You smiled at him with your reddened, kiss-swollen lips and he felt your smile settling inside his lower belly, his cock twitching inside his pants.

You put your hands on his shoulders as he helped you out of your shoes and jeans and when you were there, standing in front of him only in your underwear, he swore there wasn’t anything more divine than your body.

You sank on your knees and your hands landed on his thighs, Dave’s throat clutched and his chest turned as you smiled at him and your hands slid to his belt, you raised your eyebrows as if asking for permission and he nodded a few times, leaning backward into his hands to give you space for you to do whatever you wanted to him.

You unbuckled his belt and opened his pants, his breath hitched when your fingers hooked to the hem of both his pants and his boxers, and then he lifted his hips for you to pull them off him. Dave smiled when he saw you bite your lip at the sight of his hard cock resting on his abdomen. It did something unexpected on what he thought was his dead ego, but he loved the way you looked at it.

“Take off your shirt.” you said and again, without it being an order, he obeyed. Unbuttoned it as quickly as he could and slid it off his shoulders as you leaned over his lap and took his erection on your hand, your thumb grazing softly the tip and he threw his head back between his shoulders.

“Oh, my love.” he sighed out as you started pumping slowly and when he closed his eyes, you licked the underside and wrapped your lips around the tip, making him gasp.

You took it slowly, enjoying the taste of his pre-cum as it came out of him, pumping the rest you couldn’t fit inside your mouth with your hand.

Dave forced his eyes open and moved his head down to watch you, he shivered when he found you already looking at him; he moved his hand to your face and with his knuckles caressed your cheek, making you smile with his cock inside your mouth.

For him, looking at you on your knees between his legs was like looking at a sacrosanct painting; your lips around him taking as much of his length as you could, your saliva dripping from his dick to your hand, bobbing your head up and down as your eyes, those holy eyes that never left his, it was a pleasure he never thought he would get in his earthly life.

He felt himself close to cumming, and he pushed your head softly upwards, you rose from your knees and clashed your messy lips onto his and he wrapped his arms around your waist, his large hands roaming around the skin of your back. His fingers played with the back of your bra and he broke the kiss for a few seconds to unhook it and help you slide it off, you smiled when he sighed at the sight of your breasts in front of his face and he pulled you flush against his head, taking a nipple in his mouth.

The warmth of his mouth and the wetness of his tongue around the soft skin of your nipple made you cry out his name softly and arousal gathered between your legs. One of his hands rested on your other boob and kneaded delicately as you fisted his hair in your hand. Dave moved his mouth to your other nipple and lapped at it before trapping it inside his mouth, you pressed his head to your chest and let out a moan when his teeth grazed your nipple as he released it.

“I wanna taste you.” he muttered against your boob and you smiled at him, nodding.

He moved you softly to lie down on the bed; the sheets were cool and soft and he stood on the edge, taking you in again, studying your body.

He leaned down to you and you opened your legs to make space for him; he hovered over your body and kissed you again, softly, as if you were back in time to the first kiss he gave you in the sacristy, as if he wasn’t about to devour your body.

His kisses traveled from your mouth to your neck and your chest, he left one in each nipple, making you laugh, he left a trail of them over your belly and one over your belly button. As he kissed your abdomen and your thighs, you looked at the ceiling and you smiled at whoever was watching.

Dave took the hem of your panties on his fingers and you lifted your hips for him to slip them off you, you lifted your legs and he unhooked them from your ankles, grabbing your calves and opening your legs again. He gulped when he saw your wet, expectant pussy right in front of him and looked at your flushed face. He leaned down and left kisses around your thighs without breaking eye contact.

“Guide me.” he whispered and left a kiss right over the hood of your clit, making you moan.

You nodded once, and he looked at your pussy, opened the lips gently with his fingers and blew on your slick folds, making you shiver. He flattened his tongue and licked from your slit to your clit, tasting your arousal, moaning at the richness of it.

You slid your hand to your clit and looked at him.

“Here.” you mumbled, circling a few times to show him how. He had told you he had sex before his ordination, because he didn’t want to go into his holy orders without having experienced it and wondering for the rest of his life what he had missed, but he said it wasn’t as good as he thought it would be and before you, he thought he would never know. So you had to show him what you wanted and what you liked because his experience wasn’t vast.

Dave did as you showed and you moaned out loud, the pads of his fingers were warmer and bigger than yours and he was handling you so delicately you were already on edge.

He kept licking and circling your clit and then, without a second thought, he moved his fingers away and started circling your clit with his tongue.

“Oh m–my god,” you fisted his hair, pushing his face into your pussy and he pressed your hips onto the mattress, looking at your face with your mouth opened in pleasure and your eyes closed shut “Dave ke–keep doing that baby,” you pleaded and he did it, and started playing the pad of one of his fingers on your slit, making your hips buck slightly he saw you pant and smiled when you slid your free hand to play with your nipple so he added a second one to play with your entrance “inside, put them inside.” you said under your breath and he pushed his fingers slowly inside your cunt, making you let out a long moan of his name, he started pumping and curling his fingers inside as he had imagined you doing it all those weeks ago while touching himself in the shower and closed his eyes to hear you moan his name as he brought you closer and closer to pleasure.

He moved his fingers faster inside of you and hand fisted and pulled his hair as your moans became tamed screams and he thought of them as the most pious symphony that he and only him had the sacred pleasure to hear.

You wrapped a leg around his shoulders as you felt the knot inside your belly explode from his ministrations and you chanted his name over and over as he worked you through your orgasm. You panted for a few seconds and opened your eyes to the sight of Dave licking his fingers clean. You smiled at him and released his hair to motion him to come to you; he hovered over your body again and you put your hand on his nape to bring him to you; you moaned softly at your own taste and you felt it smile on your lips.

“What?” you asked in a whisper.

“Did you like it?” he asked back on your lips, you nodded and cupped his clean-shaven jaw, leaving a deep kiss on his lips.

“I loved it,” he smiled, and you wrapped your legs around his waist and felt his cock brushing lightly against your folds. “make love to me, Dave.”

You saw his smile widen, and it was his turn to nod to you, he kissed you again while his hand worked on aligning himself to you; he slid the tip through your folds and you gasped on his mouth when he found your entrance and started pushing in.

He did it slowly, no rush; he wanted to feel you in every inch of his cock; he wanted you to feel him and every ridge and vein of him as he found his home in you.

You nipped at his lip as he bottomed up and smiled when he stayed there, inside you, enjoying the wait for your body to acclimate to his, you looked into his eyes and you felt it.

You felt how you two fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

As if his body was made for you and your body was made for him.

It felt right.

It felt sacred.

Dave started moving at a calmed pace and you with him, quickly finding a rhythm where your hips moved almost in unison and he thrusted into you deeply every time he moved. He was supporting his weight on one arm next to you while the other gripped your hip and helped you with the tantalizing dance you both were having.

He hid his face in the crook of your neck when your hands moved to his back and you pulled his body down to yours, his chest gliding yours and his hips circling as he thrusted faster into you.

Dave moaned into your neck when you scratched his back as his thrusts became pounds.

“Harder, please, baby, harder.” you whispered into his ear and he listened, driving into you as fast as his body allowed, the noise of his skin clashing with yours and the wetness of you leaking around his cock flooded the room and his moans grew louder and you dug your nails into his skin chanting his name as you got closer and closer to your second release.

“Yo–you’re a goddess,” he muttered into the skin of your neck as his cock grazed your cervix, his hand wrapped around your hips and he lifted your ass for him to thrust deeper, making you moan his name loudly “you’re m–my go–goddess.”

You slid your hands to his ass and fisted his buttcheeks, pushing him further into you.

Dave felt his orgasm closer and closer every time he drove into you and your warm walls started to clench around him with the closeness of your orgasm, he nibbled the skin of your neck and clutched his eyes shut tighter when his body started to stiffen as he pounded into you; he muttered your name a few times like a prayer he never knew he needed to make, and it sounded right, your name in his voice as he drove himself and you to climax, his own name on your sweet voice as you begged him for everything he had in himself, it was all right, it was all correct, there was nothing wrong, how could he had felt so guilty about it when it was the most perfect, most righteous, most sacred, most heavenly action he could do.

You in his arms, your hands on his body, his cock inside your cunt, you wrapped around him begging him to cum inside you, everything about it was all he could have asked for to feel like he was in heaven. He had almost said no to feel it, and he bursted inside you at the same time as you broke in pieces around him, thinking that he would rather live his life with you around him than his afterlife in heaven.

“I love you.” he muttered against the skin of your neck and you opened your eyes after riding the high of your orgasm and looked at the ceiling.

You frowned when you heard his words and when you remembered what he said to you before he came, and as you turned to the side to see him that red warmth you had felt earlier disappeared almost completely and the bright green taint of the deep guilt inside you washed over your body and your soul.

He looked at you and narrowed his eyes. His expression changed as he realized you weren’t going to answer his confession.

“Dave,” you whispered and his face changed, his brow furrowed and you saw his jaw tighten “what did we just do?”

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[neutrnstar]

1. no because i (void) keep changing it lmao i really need to find one everyone agrees on

2. i guess they come up with one? idk i'm never the one who talks to them first there's always someone like "oh btw we have (insert new alter) with us now"

3. no, i used to before i figured out i was enby tho but we haven't changed it legally so technically no

4. idk? i'm not sure what counts as stereotypical so

5. i think azarynn i don't think it's a real name and it doesn't mean anything they picked it from a generator lmao

6. depends on who you ask tbh ive been the host for years and now i just. age with the body, some alters have their own birthday some don't age at all etc

7. we have a few of them yes!

8. beside the ageless ones, we have azarynn who is 6000 something years old

9. i think we have one? i know we used to have more but we had some fusions i think that's what you call it?

10. again depends on who you ask

11. i think it's pretty diverse

12. almost of us are either trans dudes or fall under the nonbinary umbrella but we still have a few girls (both cis and trans)

13. some of us yeah! i personally am gendervoid and use they/it/star and i know im not the only one

14. probably azarynn tbh

15. yes! im currently going through gender therapy to try and see if we can go on hrt since im transmasc and im the one who fronts the most so we all agreed that i should be the most comfortable in the body c:

16. i think me i dont even know what my species are im literally just a guy

17. no

18. we have a cat hes like literally a cat. he doesn't talk he meows

19. i can't really answer for the others but for me it's like trying to use parts of my body that don't exist when i front like my tail or my ears (i can't move them to follow sounds like i do in the inner world) and when i front im not as strong there's so many things i can't do anymore

20. i think so yes

21. we have two alters from the legend of zelda

22. im not sure tbh

23. floyd is an introject of comfortably numb by pink floyd i think that's the weirdest one

24. i can't think of anyone right now but maybe? it's really just my awful memory messing w me rn lmao

25. not sure if it counts but i think so? like link (who is an introject of dark link from ocarina of time) has a phobia of deep waters like when you can't see and all yknow and i know in the game you meet dark link in the temple of water and you play with water levels and all but there's absolutely no mention of the character being scared of that tbh he doesn't have much more around him so i don't think that's canon or anything but it does come from somewhere so not sure if i can count this as non canon yknow

26. no, we barely even engage with other systems online so

27. kinda? when i was like "oh yeah we're endo bc we don't have trauma" turned out we do have trauma we just don't remember but we have confirmation we had trauma so

28. idk really like i don't really care if it's a case like ours where you just don't know, to the others honestly do what you want just don't appropriate our terms and stuff

29. im pretty sure most of us don't really care beside me and maybe link and zack the others don't even go on social medias so they wouldn't really know i think we're just trying to stay away from it bc any kind of discourse can be overwhelming esp to me w my stupid anxiety i just don't wanna participate

30. i think it depends on the subject and how people handle it just like most discourses

31. ganymede <3

32. idk probably link or ganymede

33. probably that time we found a cat (the cat alter im sorry i can't remember his name) and everyone fought to know who would get to take care of him so we did wrestling (i lost)

34. trauma ptsd etc aside yes, it has helped me more than it harmed me so, we also have other disorders and disabilities (esp bpd and social anxiety) that we're struggling with and i don't think i could handle that on my own, really my headmates saved me more than once and stopped me from doing things i would've regretted

35. i can't think of anything i think we all have at least one thing in common with at least one person so

anti-endo system ask game

this post is for anti-endo systems only, endos dni

if you don't want asks from a specific category I would recommend specifying that in the tags

name asks

1. do you have a collective name? how did you choose it?

2. how do new alters choose their names?

3. are there any alters who identify with the body's name?

4. which alter has the most stereotypical name?

5. which alter has the weirdest name?

age asks

6. how does alter age work for your system?

7. does your system have ageless alters?

8. who is the oldest alter? how old are they?

9. does your system have alters who age slide or age regress?

10. does your system's littles want to be treated like children or adults?

queer asks

11. do all alters have similar sexualities?

12. does your system have more male, female, or nonbinary alters?

13. do any alters use xenogenders or neopronouns?

14. which alter has the most gender?

15. do you consider the body to be transgender?

nonhuman asks

16. what alter is the strangest species?

17. do any alters in your system have wings?

18. does your system have any animal alters?

19. what is the weirdest part about being a nonhuman alter?

20. is the majority of your system human or nonhuman?

introject asks

21. do you have multiple alters from one source?

22. are most of your system's introjects connected to their source? disconnected from their source?

23. what is the weirdest source that an introject in your system has?

24. are any of your system's introjects in relationships with other introjects?

25. do any of your system's introjects have non-canon source memories?

syscourse asks

26. do you engage in syscourse?

27. were you previously pro-endo?

28. if you could tell all pro-endos one thing, what would you tell them?

29. does your system have a collective opinion on syscourse, or does it vary?

30. do you think that syscourse is more helpful or harmful?

asks for the current fronter

31. who is your favorite alter in the system?

32. which alter has the most based takes?

33. what is the funniest piece of system drama?

34. do you enjoy being part of a system?

35. what's something you like that no one else in the system likes?

this post is for anti-endo systems only, endos dni