#like hey. we could be in communion.

[the-everqueen]

those spotify games (wrapped, put your playlist on shuffle, etc.) don't work on me because i listen to music Wrong

[covenofagatha]

hey soooooo if your requests are still open... what do you think about a pt. 3 with Father Agatha where she fucks reader on the altar with her strap (the church is empty)... like... and Agatha has reader recite the Rosary, and for every mystery completed reader gets an orgasm... and maybe Agatha has like a breeding kink sort of and says she wants to make reader the next virgin mary...

obviously if you want and feel comfortable with all this, i really truly love all your stories!!

Hooooooly shit this was insane i immediately had to write this

also the rosary is so long 😩

Forgive me, Father (part 3)

What the request said lol

Word count: 3200

Warnings: light bondage, religious sex, altar sex, fingering, oral, strap on, cum lube, breeding kink, spanking, dubcon, priest agatha is so corrupt, naive reader, think this is it

The next time you go to confession, you don’t even make it into the booth before Father Agatha intercepts you, almost like she’s been waiting. 

“Come back for more, angel?” She asks, sitting in a pew, facing the altar. You almost walked right by her without noticing. 

You look around the rest of the church. There’s no one else in sight. She taps the spot on the bench next to her and you sit. 

Just the close proximity makes your heart beat faster. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask. 

Father Agatha shrugs. “I like to sit in here when it’s empty and pray. Helps me connect with God, I can hear him better.” 

You frown and try to quiet your thoughts and your breathing to see if you can hear anything. “What is God saying right now?” If you had looked closer, you would’ve seen the smirk on her lips as you played right into her trap before she reset her face.

“Nothing good,” she sighs heavily and your eyes widen in fear. “Do you remember the Annunciation?” 

“Of course,” you answer with a nod. “When the angel Gabriel came down and told Mary that she was pregnant with Jesus because she had found favor with God.” You had strived to live a life as pure as Mary had, and thanks to Father Agatha, you feel like you’re on the right path.

She gives you a wry smile, her eyes still racked with seriousness. “And do you remember why God sent his only son down to us?” 

“To save us from sin,” you say immediately. The most noble sacrifice anyone could make. 

“And it worked for a while,” Father Agatha says sadly. “But now sin is running rampant again. However, God has an idea for how to stop it.” 

Your mouth falls open a little. You had no idea it was getting that bad out in the world. You make it your mission to help the priest, no matter what it takes. “What does He need? What can we do?” 

“Another vessel, for another child. A pure of heart maiden, just like Mary was,” she says, finally meeting your eyes. Your heart skips a beat. 

“Me? Carry God’s child? But–” 

She cuts you off. “Proverbs 3:5 says, ‘Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding.’ I know it may be scary, angel, but I am here to help. I will shepherd the child unto you, if you so wish to help God in this way.” 

You think for a moment, weighing your options. It has always been a dream to be a true steward of the Lord, and everyone has to do their part. You remember a verse from Psalms. “The Lord is my strength and my shield; in him my heart trusts, and I am helped; my heart exults, and with my song I give thanks to him,” you recite and Agatha smiles, very pleased. 

She stands up, brushing past you and walking up the stairs to the altar. You follow her. 

“How is this going to work?” You question. The Bible doesn’t go into specifics with Mary.

“Patience, angel,” Father Agatha says, pulling out the bread and wine of Christ for Communion and a rosary. “There are many things we will need to do in order to get you ready to take the child.” 

She holds up the wafer and you bow, holding out your hands. She doesn’t move, just raises an eyebrow. You stand there for a second, dumbfounded. 

“What are other ways you can take Communion?” She says, glancing down to the floor. A light clicks in your head and, for the third time in front of her, you drop to your knees. 

This time, you open your mouth and stick out your tongue, and she places the bread on it, holding eye contact. Her gaze burns into you and you can’t help but feel that same heat you always do with her. Once you swallow, she presses the chalice of wine to your lips and you let her pour some down your throat. 

The air is so charged around the two of you and you wonder if this is part of the ceremony. 

“Stand up,” she orders and you shoot to your feet. She flips you around and lifts you up so you’re sitting on the altar and you gasp. 

“I can’t be on this,” you protest but she shushes you. 

“It’s okay, angel,” she says soothingly, hands coming to rub your thighs. Her touch feels good and it momentarily makes you forget about your qualms. “God will allow it since he knows the burden you’re about to bear. Now, do you remember that special toy I used on you last time?” 

You nod, feeling the wetness in your underwear grow as you think back to that memory. The way it felt so big, the way it stretched you out, the way it felt when you orgasmed over it. 

Father Agatha is wearing pants today, you notice for the first time, and she unzips them to pull something out. 

Unlike the one from last time, which was purple, this one is skin colored and has two round things on the bottom. She squeezes the globes under the toy and a dribble of white liquid comes out from the tip. 

“What is that?” You ask in awe. You wonder what it would taste like. 

She swipes at the bead of moisture and holds it up so you can get a better look. “This is a different type of tool, one that can hold cum.” She says the new word slowly so you can remember it. “This is what’s going to go inside your little pussy, this is what’s going to fill you up with the new child of Christ.” 

For some reason, the thought of having the cum inside you makes you grow even hotter. “Okay,” you say earnestly. She chuckles at how ready you are. 

“Not quite yet, angel. Remember how we had to work up to it last time? We will need to do the same. But don’t fret. I’ll make it just as enjoyable.” 

She takes the rosary off the altar next to you and waits for you to hold out your arms. Instead of wrapping them around your hands the right way, she twists them around your wrists so you can’t move. A flare involuntarily courses through you at the thought of being bound. 

“Now, be a good girl, and complete your rosary. For each mystery, you’ll get a reward,” she says with a wink, and pulls you closer to the edge of the altar. You watch what she’s doing with bated breath and she bends down so her face is just a breath away from your pussy. 

She pushes up your skirt and slides your underwear to the side, and when her finger slides through your folds, you make the sign of the cross. 

“I believe in God, the Father Almighty,” you begin with the Apostles’ creed. When you get to the Our Father, the memory of you saying this while her fingers were warming you up last time hits you like a train. She finds your clit easily and rubs it, your voice jumping up an octave. 

You make it through that prayer and the three Hail Mary’s with little trouble while she continues just stroking up and down your pussy, feeling it get wetter under her fingertips. 

The Glory Be and the Fatima prayer also come out smoothly as Father Agatha is only teasing. 

You announce the first mystery, Annunciation, and you’re saying the Our Father again when she suddenly slides a finger into you, grinning at the way you gasp and tighten around it. 

She pumps it in and out lazily while you stutter through the rest of the prayer and then she pulls out. You feel empty and she tugs you off the altar and spins you around so that your ribs are pressing into it and your elbows rest on top, hands still tied tightly together by the chain.

This time, she tugs your skirt and underwear off and the cool church air makes you shiver. She grabs your buttcheeks and you gasp. 

“Did your parents spank you when you were a child?” She asks and for some reason, you feel yourself get even wetter at the promise her words hold. 

You nod. “Yes,” you whisper. 

“Do not withhold discipline from a child; if you strike him with a rod, he will not die. If you strike him with a rod, you will save his soul from Sheol,” she quotes. “We need to make sure your body is completely cleansed. You have ten Hail Mary’s, so for each one, I’ll give you a spank.” 

Your breath comes out in stutters and you feel like you’re about to pass out from overheating. The ache inside you is only getting worse. 

“Hail Mary, full of grace, the lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus. Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death, Amen.” 

She slaps you before you even have the time to brace yourself. 

The sound echoes throughout the empty church and you clasp your hands so hard that your knuckles turn white. 

“Hail Mary, full of grace,” you say again, eyes rolling to look up at the ceiling like you’re talking straight to God. 

Another spank. This time, your body rocks forward against the altar and it knocks the wind out of your lungs. 

“Hail Mary…” 

Spank. 

“Hail Mary…” 

Spank. 

“Hail Mary…”

Spank. 

“Hail Mary…” 

Spank. 

“Hail Mary…” 

Spank.

You still have three more to go and you’re a mess. 

The wetness between your legs has grown to a flood and is dripping down your legs. Your butt stings and the cold air works to soothe it, but every time you get a semblance of a relief, she hits you again. 

“Hail…Mary…” You take your time on the eighth, dragging it out over a minute to give yourself some time to breathe and recover. She chuckles evilly, rubbing your butt. 

Spank. 

On the ninth time, it doesn’t even feel like you’re saying real words anymore and you can barely register the pain anymore. 

Spank. 

When you finally choke out the tenth one, she hits both of your cheeks as hard as she can at the same time and you groan loudly. 

“Father Agatha,” you whimper and she soothes the aches with her palms. 

“You did so well, angel, so perfect for me. I promise that you are completely purified now and ready for pleasure. But before we get to that, let’s say the Glory Be and the Fatima prayer together.” 

She turns you around so you lock eyes with the priest and chant the two prayers and then you announce the second mystery, the Visitation, and start the Our Father. Father Agatha watches with a fond smile on your face and as you’re still speaking, she nudges your feet apart so your stance is wider. 

When you begin the ten Hail Mary’s again, she reaches down and slides two fingers inside you with no resistance at all because of how wet you are. 

You momentarily stop talking and the priest moans. 

“You’re so wet and warm around me, angel,” she mumbles quietly and you wish your hands weren’t tied together so you could reach out and touch her. 

You resume the prayer and she picks up her pace, twisting and curling, and your recitation is broken up with small gasps and whimpers. Instinctually, you raise your leg up and rest it around her and she chuckles. 

It was clearly the right thing to do because her fingers can somehow get deeper inside you and your head falls back. You’re clenching tighter and you’re getting close as you keep spitting out the words, having been on the edge for awhile since her spanking. 

“Ah ah,” she tuts, slowing down for a second. “You have four more. No orgasm until then.” You whine, pleading with your eyes, but she just smirks and raises a brow, waiting for you to continue. 

You say the words so fast it sounds like you’re auctioning off your soul to the highest bidder. 

And Father Agatha, of course, has won. 

She finally strokes your clit when you finish the tenth and you spasm all over her two fingers, hands pulling so tightly against the rosary that you think you might have indents tomorrow. 

She gently moves her fingers in and out while you finish up the second mystery with the Glory Be and the Fatima Prayer. 

When you’re announcing the third mystery, the Birth of Our Lord, she sinks down to her knees in front of you and you forget to speak. 

You shake your head, trying to figure out what she’s doing, when she lifts a leg up over her shoulder and leans close to your pussy to blow on it. 

Your hips jump and you almost fall, and she helps you rest your back against the altar for balance. 

“What are you doing?” You say in a hushed voice. 

“Say the prayers,” she orders and sucks gentle kisses into your inner thighs. Her mouth on that extremely sensitive place makes you keen as you start to say the Our Father again. But when you begin on the Hail Mary’s, her tongue slides through your folds and it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before. 

A loud moan claws its way out of your throat and you manage to loosen the rosary around your wrists just enough so you can entangle your hands in her hair. You had no idea that someone could put their mouth on that part of you, but you want Father Agatha to stay there forever. 

She stops and nips at your thigh as a warning to keep going. It is so hard to keep your mind from completely blanking on the words with her hot tongue swirling your clit the way it is, but you somehow manage to make it through four quickly. 

You buck your hips without any sort of rhythm against her face, gasping out the words to the prayer. Her tongue dips into your pussy and strokes against your walls and you think you might die and ascend before God can put his baby in you. 

Like the last time, it’s clear that she won’t let you orgasm unless you finish the mystery, so you speed through again, pretty sure you miss chunks of the prayer at a time. 

Finally, you get to the tenth one, and when you’re almost done, she slides three fingers into you, curls them, and sucks on your clit roughly. 

You orgasm, absolutely drenching her face and fingers again. 

She moves your leg down and stands up, smearing her fingers across your face. 

“How was that?” She asks, smirking. 

“Oh my gosh, I didn’t even know something could feel that good,” you gush. 

And then she grabs the toy and drags it through your folds and you second guess that when she circles your clit with the tip. She presses down lightly and the pressure makes you squirm. 

“Are you ready for me to fill you up?” 

Your heart leaps, but really, you’d do anything to have her inside you again. Two orgasms hasn’t been enough to satiate you and you want to know what it’s like for her cum to be inside you. 

“Please, Father, fill me up.” The words sound dirty falling from your mouth but she just grins and flips you back around, putting you back into the same position as earlier. 

“Fourth mystery,” she demands and your head falls forward onto your chained arms as she pushes the tip in. Even though you are wet and stretched out, there’s still a slight burn. 

The Presentation. You announce it and say the Our Father while she ruts in and out of you, never going in further than the tip. 

You start on the Hail Mary’s and it takes her the entire first one to slide the entire way in. Your voice sounds strangled as you keep talking and she slowly starts to grind into you. 

When you get to the third one, she stops being gentle and begins roughly thrusting, your rips slamming against the altar again and again. She reaches a hand around to rub at your clit and you clench tightly on the toy. 

Father Agatha starts saying things while you keep reciting your prayers and she’s just loud enough to hear over your words. 

“Angel, you’re so perfect, stretched around my cock like this, can’t wait to fill you up, to breed you, watch my cum drip out of you, God you’re taking me so well, need to do this every day, can’t wait to breed you.” 

You don’t really know what she means when she says she wants to breed you, but just based on the way she sounds when she says it, like it’s making her feel as hot as you do, makes you even more wet. 

At this point, you don’t even know if you’re saying the right prayer but things just keep spilling out of your mouth and you go with it. You don’t know how many you’ve said or how many you have left, all you can think about is Father Agatha. 

“You’re so close, angel, just one more and then I’ll make you into the next Virgin Mary with my cum,” she grunts into your ear and you gasp out the words. 

“Amen,” you finally pant out, and you can feel her hand brush past you as she reaches down between her own legs, and the next thing you know, a warmth spreads through you. It triggers your own orgasm, feeling your walls being painted with her cum, and she gently thrusts in and out while you seize around her. “Did it work?” You ask weakly. 

Father Agatha strokes your hair as she says the Glory Be and the Fatima prayer herself. You realize that you forgot to say those after your second orgasm, but you can’t find it in you to care. Since you’re carrying God’s child, you don’t think He will either. 

“I’m going to stay inside you like this to keep the cum in while you say the fifth mystery. It’s called cockwarming. This way, we can try to let it take hold.” 

You nod and begin on the Finding in the Temple. Since she isn’t moving, you aren’t constantly distracted and you’re able to get through the Hail Mary’s without too much of a hassle, although the feeling of being full still is forefront on your mind. 

When you finish the rosary, she pulls out, turns you to face her, and you gasp at the feeling of her cum oozing out of you. 

“But, it was supposed to stay inside me!” You cry, watching in horror as it leaks out and down your legs. 

Father Agatha frowns and collects it with her fingers. “Something must have gone wrong,” she says and then looks up to meet your eyes. “Guess we’ll just have to try again.” 

[barefoot-joker]

Destined for Heaven, Stolen by the Devil~ Yandere!Lucifer X Reader

Hey, guys and welcome to another Lucifer story. I'm sorry I write for him a lot. I just find to him be a very relatable character and I love him so much! Anyway, this fic deals with heavy Christianity themes, so I did my best to research. If something is wrong, please tell me and I'll do my best to fix it. I was very inspired by the song 'The Plagues' from "The Prince of Egypt". As always, I hope you enjoy and have a great day/night!

Words: 2899

Warnings: Heavy Christianity Themes/Beliefs, Swearing, Christianity Mocking, Slight Possessive Tendencies, Reader's Aunt likes crystals, Reader Dies, Kidnapping?

I sighed as my mother pulled a light blue cardigan over my shoulders. She dusted off my dress and fixed my hair so that I looked presentable. Today was Sunday so that meant we had to go to church. I wasn’t too fond of going and I would have rather been playing in the backyard as a twelve year old does. However, my mom made it her duty to take me and make me a good Christian girl. “Why do we have to go, mom? It’s soooo boring!”

I stuck out my tongue at her. She gently pushed it back in. “You know I want our family to have a good relationship with the Lord. It’s our Christian duty. Besides, going to church is in your blood. After all-”

“Yeah, yeah. God told you that I was destined to be a wife for Adam. How can you believe that? It came to you in a dream.”

“Y/n M/n L/n! You do not question God’s ways! You know better! Now come on, we don’t want to be late.”

Dragging me by the hand, she ushered me into the family Cadillac and sped off. I sighed heavily. There were so many things I’d rather be doing than go to church. I could be with my friends, heck I could be at my cool Aunt’s house. “Hey, mom?”

“Yes, dear?”

“When are we going to visit Aunt Hailey? When she called you said we’d be seeing her soon.”

“I only said that to get her off my back. You know how I feel about her.”

I grunted and crossed my arms. Aunt Hailey was seen as the black sheep in the family all because she was wealthy. A lot of our relatives (my mother included) thought she sold her soul to the Devil in order to be immensely rich and refused to interact with her. I, however, thought she was so cool. When she used to come over she’d regale to me hundreds of stories about her travels around the world. She even showed me her cool crystal collection when we went over to her house a few times. “Now don’t be like that. It’s not ladylike.”

I grunted again and slid down in the tan leather seat. A few minutes later the car was parked in the church parking lot and I was being dragged inside. Sometimes I wish I had siblings so I wasn’t the only one to feel mom’s wrath. She seated us near the front and handed me the heavy white Bible from the pew. I robotically turned to the page with the Lord’s prayer and stood when Pastor Bob entered. We began reciting the Lord’s prayer and sang a hymn before we sat. I didn’t pay much attention as our Priest told us his sermon for the day but I didn’t dare to look around the room. I had to look the part after all. Fidgety, I played with my ring finger. Glancing down, I took in the birthmark that oddly looked like an apple. I remember it showing up after I stayed at Aunt Hailey’s house one day. I never told my mother about it though. I was often reminded of the tale of Eve and the apple and I don’t know what she would do if ever saw the fruit insignia. After the sermon and another hymn, it was time for communion. We all stood in line and when it was my turn I took the small Ritz cracker and ate it. I coughed lightly and then took a sip from the golden chalice. My mom and I returned to our seats and when everyone was done, we recited the Lord’s prayer one final time. Thank goodness it was over. 

As we walked out, I was forced to shake hands with our elderly Pastor. “How is my favorite little disciple doing today?”

I cringed at that. Ever since my mother told the church of her insane dream I was treated like some goddess. “Good.”

“That’s great to hear. I look forward to our weekly blessing.”

“Of course, Pastor Bob,” my mom butted in, “we wouldn’t miss it.”

He smiled and bid us both ado. We walked back to the car and drove home. As we passed by houses in our neighborhood, I looked longingly at the kids playing. Besides church, Sunday was dedicated to my education of becoming a housewife so when I did die and go to Heaven I was prepared. Parking the car, we went inside. I slipped off my Mary Janes and put them by the door. The rest of the day was spent cleaning, doing embroidery work and cooking. Just as I was getting ready for bed, the phone rang. I went into the kitchen and picked up the landline. “Hello?”

“Is my dear Y/n there?”

“This is her.”

“It’s your Aunt Hailey.”

“Auntie! Hi! How are you?”

She chuckled. “I am good, my darling. And you? Surviving another day in that stuffy house?”

I giggled at her commentary. “I’ve been okay. What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering when you can come over. I was talking with a friend the other day and he would like to meet you properly. I believe he saw you at my house when you were five.”

“I’d love to come over! Let me ask mom real quick.”

I walked into the living room and pressed the phone to my chest. “Hey, mom. Aunt Hailey’s on the phone. She wants to know when I can come over.”

She looked up from her book and glared at the phone. “You know my answer.”

“Come on, mom! It’ll just be for a day!”

“I don’t know.”

“Please! I promise when I get back I’ll focus on my wifely duties! Please!”

I gave her puppy dog eyes and slightly whimpered. She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Alright. You can go tomorrow, but I expect you to stay true to your promise. You know how God would feel if you went back on your word.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!”

I lifted the phone up to my ear and quickly ran into the kitchen. “She said I can come tomorrow.”

“Wonderful! I’ll see you then, my dear.”

“Bye, Auntie!”

“Goodbye for now, darling.”

I ended the call and put the phone back on the receiver. I returned to the living room where mom and I did our nightly prayer. When we finished, she gave my forehead a kiss and sent me to bed. 

The next morning I dressed in a plaid dress shirt, brown capri pants and black oxfords. I bounced in the passenger seat giddily as my mother parked the car in my Aunt’s gravel driveway. “Now remember to behave. I don’t need any calls about your disobedience.”

“I’ll be good, I will.”

“That’s my girl. And you have your cross necklace?”

“Yes, mom. Can I go now?”

She kissed my forehead and I got out of the car. “Be safe! Call me if something happens and I’ll be back around dinner to pick you up!”

“Okay mom, bye!”

I waved and she drove off. I turned towards my relative’s mansion and walked up the stone steps. I grabbed the handle from the golden lion’s head and gave three loud knocks on the large oak door. The door opened to reveal Timothy, my Hailey’s middle aged butler. “Ah Miss Y/n, we were expecting you. Please come in.”

He stood to the side and allowed me inside. Closing the door, he led me across the marble floor to one of the drawing rooms near the back. I could hear muffled voices talking as we entered, Timothy clearing his throat. “Your niece is here, madam.”

“Thank you, Timothy. That will be all.”

He bowed and exited the room. My Auntie smiled and gestured for me to come over. I ran to her and gave her a big hug. Her navy silk and lace dress clung to me. “It’s so good to see you, darling! I’ve missed you so!”

“I’ve missed you too!”

I pulled away and she motioned to the gold and floral print armchair next to her. I sat and looked at her guest on the chaise lounge. He seemed quite the esteemed gentleman. He had slicked back blonde hair, pale skin and red eyes. I found them quite odd but didn’t judge. Mother said it was bad to judge based upon appearances. He wore a white suit with a red dress shirt, a black tie with black flower detailing, black leather gloves and shiny black dress shoes. He was on the shorter side as well. “Y/n, I’d like you to meet my friend Luci. He’s the one to thank for my wealth.”

The man stood and bowed to me. He took my hand and kissed my apple birthmark. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, my little apple. Your Aunt has told me so much about you.”

“It’s good to meet you too, sir.”

“So polite. Your mother is raising you right.”

“Except for the amount of gospel she puts in my poor baby’s head. I swear all because of her fucking dream, she’s gone total Bible thumper.”

Luci titled his head to the side. “Oh you’ll have to tell me over tea. Speaking of which, I think Timothy has finished setting up the garden for us.”

“Splendid!”

We all stood and the blonde offered me his arm. I gladly took it and we walked outside to Hailey’s marble floored porch. A metal table sat in the middle overlooking her large flower garden, a lacy white tablecloth set on top. Luci pulled out my chair and after I sat, pushed it in. He sat next to me and began pouring tea for all of us. Today Timothy had picked out the clear glass kettle so we could see the yellow liquid inside and the pastel teacups. I thanked Auntie’s friend when he poured into my cup and marveled at the small pink flower floating. “I see we’re having chrysanthemum tea. You know it’s your Auntie’s favorite.”

I giggled and picked up my cup. Blowing a little, I took a sip and smiled at the sweet taste. “So you were talking about Y/n’s mother?”

“Ah yes. She’s always been a Christian woman, believing in the power above. Then one night she had a dream, a vision she calls it, that Y/n is to be the third wife of the first man Adam. Ever since then she’s been obsessively devoted and is dragging my poor niece with her.”

“I see.”

Luci seemed to become stiff at the mention of Heaven and God. Perhaps it was a touchy subject?

“So God came to her and said this, hm?”

“Sure as shit supposedly.”

The three of us sipped our tea in silence. “So has school been going, my dear?”

“Good, Auntie. We learned how to do cursive in English the other day so now I can write my name all fancy!”

“That’s great, darling. Anything else?”

“I’ve been feeling kind of left out lately.”

Both adults turned to me in curiosity. “How so?”

“Well none of the other kids my age are really learning wifely duties, at least not as much as me. When I want to go outside and play mom forces me to do my skills.”

“Wifely duties? Pray do tell,” Luci cocked an eyebrow.

“I learned how to clean the house from top to bottom, cook all three meals, sew, embroider, and do laundry. Basically anything my mom deems necessary to please this angelic husband of mine.”

“I can assure you it will come in handy. Especially with how much of pigish brute he is.”

“How do you know?”

“I just got that impression when I’ve read his passages in the Bible, sweetie.”

“Oh.”

“If you had a real man I can be sure you wouldn’t need those skills, darling,” Auntie piped up, sipping her tea.

“A real man? Like who?”

“Like Luci for example!”

I turned to the blonde and he smiled. His eyes glinted with what looked like adoration. He gently grabbed my hand and held it, his hands quite warm through his gloves. He brought it to his lips and kissed the back of my hand. “It’s true. If you were my wife you wouldn’t want for nothing. Every day would be spent in marital bliss.”

“Sounds gross!”

He chuckled and kissed my hand again. “When you’re older you’ll come to love it.”

‘If you say so.”

“I know so.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent listening to Luci’s tales from his travels while drinking our tea. They were quite intriguing and full of adventure. The people he met, the places he went were all so fascinating. It soon became dinner time and true to her word my mom sat in the driveway. Luci walked me to the door and gave a little bow. “It was a pleasure to chat with you, Y/n. I have a feeling we will see each other more in the future.”

“I hope so. You’re so cool, Luci!”

He smirked and patted my head. “Farewell, little lady.”

“Goodbye, Luci!”

I gave him a quick hug before running to the car.

Sure enough as I grew up I ran into the short blonde more often than not. From trips to the grocery store to when I was allowed at Aunt Hailey’s house, we would bump into each other. We’d always exchange a few words and always those red eyes sparkled bright around me. 

That was eleven years ago. Now I lay in a hospital bed, feeling like I was on the brink of death. A few years after meeting Luci I had gotten terribly ill. I was feverish, pale and felt nauseous. My mother was worried and took me to the clinic. I was just diagnosed with the flu. I took my medicine and stayed in bed as best as possible but the final straw was when I fainted in the backyard while gardening. Since then, I had been in and out of hospital with different doctors viewing me like prize cattle. I was poked, prodded and dug at only to be told no one had a clue as to why I was sick. It was like it had just fallen upon me. My mother became even more obsessive in her Christian ways. I was blessed every weekend and prayed upon every day to try and heal my mysterious illness. I was forced to drink holy water at every opportunity and had to wear my cross necklace with two rosaries. 

Currently, I was coughing so hard I felt like I dislocated my lungs. My mother sat next to me holding my hand, a rosary wrapping around us. As I continued to cough she pushed some hair out of my face. “You’re going to be alright, honey. Just stay strong.”

After my coughing fit, I laid back and tried to catch my breath. “I feel like I’m dying.”

Her hand tightened around mine and I could feel her body shake with sobs. “Maybe this is God’s way of letting us know Adam needs you. As much as I’d hate to see my baby go, you’d finally fulfill your purpose.”

“Mom, please. Not now.”

“I’m sorry.”

A knock at the door made us both look over. There in the entryway stood Luci, his white hat with the dark red band hanging tightly in his hands. “Come in.”

He stepped forward and gave a small smile. “Hey, how are you feeling?”

“Like shit.”

“Y/n! Language!”

“Sorry.”

He chuckled and came to my side, putting a hand on my shoulder. “May I have a moment alone, please?”

My mom looked at me and I gave a curt nod. She sighed and stood. “I’ll go get something to eat. I’ll be back later, honey.”

She gave my forehead a kiss and walked out, shutting the door behind her. Luci took her place in the chair next to my bed. “What can I do for you, handsome?”

“I wanted to come see you. Hailey told me how you were faring and I knew I needed to come immediately.”

“I appreciate that. Especially since I feel like this may be the last time you see me.”

“Nonsense. We will always find each other, even in death.”

He brought his hand up and caressed my cheek. I smiled and then began coughing. I turned away and hacked into my arm, only turning back when I was done. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

His hand wrapped around mine and squoze tightly. “You know, I could end your suffering right now.”

“Yeah right.”

“I’m not lying to you, my dear. One small kiss and you’d go peacefully.”

“Luci-”

“And then we can be together forever. Adam, not even Heaven will keep you from me.”

“What are you talking about?” “Just kiss me.”

What could go wrong? I was already suffering so much.

“...Alright.”

He leaned forward and connected our lips. He tasted sweet like caramel apples and I just melted. My soul felt like it was being sucked out of my body and when he pulled away I couldn’t breathe. “You’re mine, little apple. Forever and always.”

He caressed my hand and my eyes closed.

The beeping of the heart monitor slowed and then faded to silence all together.

[lime-bloods]

I sense a degree of singularness inherent to the concept of Life in Homestuck... I've mused before about how Heart and Life are like different approaches to the same philosophical question - while a Heart is a persisting essence which follows a character throughout multiple iterations and creates a persistent 'arc' across multiple timelines, a Life is exactly that, beginning with birth and ends with death, singular - and a similar sort of dichotomy emerges between Life and what we are led to believe is its counterpart, Doom. whereas Doomedness is about offshoots, and Sollux as a character is defined by his plurality, just one cog in a vast machine, one of the very first things we learn about Feferi is that she's "the only of [her] kind known to possess [the most noble blood]". (which it may be worth noting is not even true.)

so when we learn that the Condesce "could extend life, but never restore it", it's not just a unique caveat to Meenah's abilities, but an indication of what it actually means to control "Life"? to have the ability to heal, but never to generate (hey, just like how everything Meenah gives birth to dies). Jane's abilities are similarly "limited to a one time only use per individual" - like a Maid's job is to flutter around fixing things that are broken, never really exerting any real power or influence for themselves.

and insofar as Life is associated with a Hero's literal lifespan, that's the exact same kind of trade-off going on in Alternia's class system; the longer your Life, the less populous your caste is (and as such the less you generate), and the less psychically open you are to communion with your peers. it's being part of a machine or it's being lonely

[peaches2217]

TW: general family/holiday blues

tl;dr — I’m attending a Christmas Eve service tonight and I’m attending it alone because my dad doesn’t wanna be seen with me in public, much less in a religious institution, and considering this has always been a family thing I’m feeling Extra Lonely about it.

~

My dad assured me they had no plans for Christmas Eve and were just gonna hang around the house. Invited me to join them if I wanted to. When I turned around and invited him and the family to my church’s Christmas Eve service tonight, he suddenly remembered they’re going to see my stepmom’s brother tonight and I’ll just have to spend Christmas Eve on my own. “But I hope the service is good!”

I don’t know why this in particular bothers me. I keep inviting my dad to church with me and he keeps rejecting me and I was kinda expecting that again, but being rejected on Christmas Eve…

Christmas Communion was always my favorite service in our church/cult growing up. That was this past Sunday. I’d convinced myself that maybe, juuuuuust maybe, since he knows how much Christmas services have always meant to me and since his church isn’t meeting tonight, that maybe I could still celebrate with the family like I used to. Maybe we could all share a pew and take communion together. This is my first Christmas back in church in several years. You’d think he would be happy about that, or would at least be supportive, but my faith means nothing to him if it doesn’t align perfectly with his own.

I don’t think it would hurt as badly if not for the pictures my stepmom posted to FB following their service on Sunday, talking about how magical it is to have the whole family together for worship at Christmastime and pictures of her and my sister and dad in front of the tree in the foyer. They love me, I know that, but it’s like I’m dead to them at the same time.

My dad’s reputation means everything to him. I finally had to lock down my FB and block everyone I used to go to church with because I made a post criticizing a very racist remark that was made by the pastor, and someone screenshotted it, showed it to my dad, and he chewed me out for it and told me that he took it as a personal attack against his own faith and how he raised me. How do you read “Hey, this pastor said Mexicans are terrorists, that’s not okay” and get “My dad’s a nutjob and I have no respect for him and everything he believes is a lie”??? So it’s no wonder he’s shutting down all public affiliation with me: he thinks others will see me living my life and transitioning and blame him and consider him a failure. Guess it’s less shameful to have a dead daughter than a trans son.

I’m trying to give him grace. I know this is hard for him. It’s hard for my mom too. But my mom can at least say “I don’t agree with what you’re doing but I trust that you’re making educated decisions and keeping yourself open to accountability.” My dad won’t even give me that much. Every time I try talking to him about church and Scripture and all the theology I’m learning, he just gets tense and quiet and I have to change the subject or leave.

I don’t even know where I’m going with this. I know I should just shut up and be grateful he still loves me and is still willing to look after me in private. But dammit, he’s the one that instilled my passion for the Christian faith in me, so to be brushed off and rejected and denied when I’m finally in a place where I can flourish spiritually… does seeking God mean nothing to him if I’m not in a perpetual state of shame and self-flagellation?

What am I getting at?

[tbhimnoteasyonmyself]

15 Day BL Challenge - DAY 18

We're of age, guys!!! 🥳🥳🥳 sdksjdksjdksj

What Show Are You Waiting Most (Im)Patiently For?

Well... We can all agree GMMTV lineup killed it for 2025 and we're all absolutely fucking gagged, right? So like, I'm sorry everything else but... I gotta go talk about it some more. More specifically:

Ticket to Heaven

Listen. I know. Homophobia and the catholic church, what is new? And you're right, nothing really, but like... I grew up in a heavily catholic country (Portugal). I was forced to attend catechesis twice a week for 4 years, I was forced to go to church and swear to God. I was baptized and went through a 1st Communion against my will. As much as I have renounced the faith, the trauma is still very much here. And so is, at least partially, the catholic guilt.

Needless to say I'm bonkers excited about this series and if it's terrible I'm never gonna forgive this company in my life.

This being said pls hand me the seminary gays, already!!!! I will take it. Gladly. Especially if the gift is delivered by Fourth and Gemini, my beloved.

HONOURABLE MENTIONS: Mu-Te-Luv; Only Friends: Dream On; Burnout Syndrome & Revamp

Mu-Te-Luv is probably gonna be a HUGE mess with all those fucking plots HOWEVER, they sold me:

cultists;

NEO IN A BLONDE WIG;

Yatch with eyeliner;

Fluke and Lego serving cunt like we all knew they could;

Prem;

BLONDE LONG-HAIRED NEO, ARE YOU GUYS LISTENING???;

OhmLeng;

Tarot;

Spiritual Possession;

DID I MENTION NEO????

So I am compelled. Can't lie, I really am.

And I'm here to bite my tongue bc I did say multiple times Only Friends didn't merit a season 2 and yet HERE I AM: ROOTING FOR IT! Well... What can I say? I meant when I said that before that I didn't need any more stories about those season 1 couples and by that I do stand. But messy theatre gays??? Completely unrelated to that other mess??? AND BOSTON??? SIGN ME THE FUCK UP, C'MON!!!

Burnout Syndrome... Well, it caught me off guard. I am, as a general rule, not usually very excited about anything OffGun related (#sorrynotsorry) (as Teri said upon noticing the only kiss was a back shot underwater "GMM knows they can't sell their kisses" and I definitely blame this on Off, why is he always disgusted, only god will know, pay me to kiss Gun and you shall have one oscar worthy scene but okay, I digress...) but this one got me. The aesthetic was appealing and the plot interesting. My only complaint is that, idk, making a love triangle plot with an established pair in there is kinda unfair to the narrative but hey, if they wanna surprise me and make DewGun endgame I will gladly bite my tongue again.

Revamp, Revamp... Am I even confident they're still gonna produce this? No, not really. After the betrayal that Wuju Bakery was, I don't trust anyone anymore but still... I really want vampire Boun in my life. Therefore I shall believe.

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

i could be wrong about this (i've been following this blog so long i wouldn't be surprised if im confused lol) but you changed/shifted denominations, right? im catholic, born catholic, but i struggle with what much of the church preaches/supports, and the catholic communities i grew up in are not a great place for queer people. so im looking at other affirming churches where i live, which are mostly united. they all seem great, but i find that im struggling with all the ways they aren't catholic. i find it uncomfortable that there isn't a priest (and find it uncomfortable that i find it uncomfortable), i miss the hymns from my old church, and receiving the eurcharist every sunday, and all the other little rituals i can recite on rote (which i like!). and then i suppose i feel strange for taking space in this church that isn't my own, just because it's more 'convenient', since i dont have much intention to abandon the parts of catholicism i want to keep (like mary and the saints). im not sure whether i should just suck it up and shift denominations entirely, or retain my (kind of shaky, ill admit i reject a fair amount of catholic teachings) catholic beliefs. and even then, im also not sure how to make myself more comfortable with attending a church without the rituals and mass im used to - even though i really really want to attend church again. sorry for blabbing on, but... any advice?

Hey there anon, so sorry for the very long delay; I hope you're doing all right. I was indeed born and raised Catholic, and still deeply love so much about Catholic tradition; I know how hard this decision is — whether to stay or go, whether to keep one foot in and one foot out, etc...

(Oh, one thing I want to mention right away is that you don't need to worry about "taking space" in a church you're not part of yet. Churches are meant to make room for visitors! There is plenty of room for you, and if a church makes you feel otherwise somehow, that's on them. Just bringing that up here because the rest of this long response goes in a different direction lol.)

Ultimately, you're the only one who can decide the right path for you. The good news is that you have as long as you need to figure it out! You might lean in one direction for a while and later realize you need to shift a bit; you don't have to do it all at once.

I can share a bit about my own journey to help you imagine a bit better what it even looks like to walk this path; your path may end up looking similar, or very different from mine. Putting the rest under a readmore because it's so long lol.

I was super devout Catholic all my life, into college. Then going into sophomore year of college I started figuring out I was queer — plus I was encountering more and more kinds of people than I'd ever met before, and questions about where they "fit" into Catholic doctrine and the like.

Sophomore year I started crushing on my then-roommate, now-wife, and exploring my gender a bit more, and I started getting extremely anxious each Sunday at Mass. I couldn't stop wondering what people in the pews with me would think, what they'd do if they knew. That spring semester and then into the fall, I started going to Mass less and less frequently and eventually not at all.

Meanwhile my roomie was going through similar issues with feeling way too alienated from her conservative church to keep attending. So together, we found an LGBT-affirming church near campus and walked there one Sunday. The relief we felt walking in there, seeing other queer people and couples; the warmth and welcome, the chance to hold hands in public for the first time; getting to share communion, which was a big warm loaf of bread, with folks who knew what we were and loved us in, not despite it...was like nothing I'd ever experienced.

We kept going there the rest of the school year. That summer, back in my hometown, I kept going to my childhood church for Catholic Mass. I really loved the affirming church we'd found, but like you I missed so many things that Catholic church has and they just don't: there's a higher sense of reverence at Mass; the singing resonates through my psyche; I weirdly feel Christ more strongly in the little wafer host than in that warm loaf, though the latter made me feel more spiritually connected to the humans around me...

I wanted both. I wanted to keep my relationship with my Saints. I wanted Mary and the rosary. I wanted the high reverence. And I wanted the warmth and connection I found at our new church. I wanted the laughter as children dunked their big chunk of loaf into the chalice, getting crumbs everywhere, even if it made my Catholic sensibilities cringe a little (I write about the "culture shock," getting more accustomed to those eucharistic differences here). I wanted to be surrounded with this much more diverse group of people.

So for years, even as I graduated undergrad and started my studies at a Presbyterian seminary, I've tightrope walked between Catholicism and Protestantism. I took every chance I got in my classes to write my papers (or a whole website) about queer-resonant Saints, or to bring up a book of the Bible that Catholics have but Protestants don't, or to teach classmates what it means that Catholics venerate but don't worship Mary. I went to a Presbyterian church most Sundays, but to Catholic Mass on holy days like Good Friday.

Keeping one foot in the Catholic Church — going to Mass a few times a year, cultivating my relationships with Saints privately, writing lots of poems about everything I was feeling (like this one and this one) — while spending most of my time and building up community within the PC(USA) was what worked for me for many years. Sometimes it would get frustrating; often when visiting a Catholic church I'd feel that anxiety wonder what would happen if someone there called me out for being queer. Often I'd feel alienated, lonely, wishing I could bring my whole self into one place if that makes sense; but I made it work.

Then things took a painful turn late last May — content warning for religious trauma & transphobia from a Catholic priest. I was visiting home, and that meant dropping by my childhood church for Mass. When the priest I've known almost my whole life, who gave me my first communion and Confirmed me, got halfway through his homily, it suddenly turned into transphobic condemnation. I felt like the floor had dropped out from under me. I decided to speak up; I interrupted Mass to assert that queer people are beloved by God; I was escorted out of my childhood church. It was really, really painful; it still really hurts.

I haven't visited a Catholic church since then. And it breaks my heart I'll never feel safe about going back to my childhood church again :'(

I bring up this traumatic moment not to scare you away from keeping some part of you in the Catholic Church — so many of us do remain partially or all the way in it despite its failures. Hopefully you'll never encounter something this overtly queerphobic. But I bring it up to say that if you stay in the Catholic Church, you probably will encounter things over the years — hopefully small, maybe big — that bring you pain. Little ways comments chip at your sense of worth and dignity; new documents from the Vatican that speak against queerness.

But honestly, you'll probably encounter a little hurt wherever you go. No church, no community at all, is perfect. People say and do thoughtless things. You'll probably experience less of that in an LGBT affirming church, but wherever you go, you'll need to gradually amass spiritual shields — connection to the divine, to other people, places you go for refuge.

I haven't returned to a Catholic church since that incident — but I have made relationships I wouldn't have made otherwise. Various people who attended my childhood church's grade school reached out to me to thank me for my courage; one of them even wrote an article about what I did and what she and her friends experienced as students there. Someone from my home state's branch of Dignity USA reached out to me.

I've sort of "officially" let myself sever that last thread connecting me to anything Roman Catholic, to the institution; but I hold on to the elements of Catholic tradition that bring me spiritual nourishment. They can pry Mary and the Saints from my cold dead hands (no actually! not even then!)

...So that's my personal journey up to the present day. (I also sum up my sort of situationship identifying as an agnostic Catholic Presbyterian in this post.) But others have different paths.

I know so many queer Catholics, ex-Catholics, not-sure-where-they-fit type folks...there are:

queer Catholics who stick with the Catholic Church completely;

or who occupy a sort of liminal in-between, sticking to the Catholic edges but still interacting with Catholic institutions.

I know others who completely left all things Catholic behind, not just the institutions but all Saints, songs, etc.

If you're interested in listening to / reading about a few other people's experiences, I've interviewed a few queer Catholics on my podcast:

there's Emma Cieslik, who archives all sorts of queer Catholic experiences in her own oral history project;

There's K Kriesel, whose life has taken them all around the Catholic center and many different peripheries;

There's Amy Neville, who studies art history and incorporates Catholicism into their queer art; and others too.

____

Sorry if all that was way more than you were looking for! But I hope exploring some of the journeys of others who've been in a similar place to you might help a bit.

A few other things I'll tack on:

If there are any Episcopal churches near you (that mention being LGBT friendly on their website), their vibe will be much closer to what you love from Catholicism than a UCC church is. Lutherans are also closer in vibe and often LGBT affirming.

It's possible there might be a (non-Roman) Catholic community near you that is LGBT-affirming — check out this post for more about liberal Catholics, Independent Catholics, and more.

The previously linked post also brings up organizations that aim to make the Catholic Church more LGBT-inclusive, like DignityUSA. You might find that one of those orgs has a branch near you where you can find support and commiseration.

Finally, you may also like looking through my #queer and Catholic tag, and also maybe my #lgbta patron saints tag.

Sending you love and wishing you peace, joy, and a sense of belonging. I know how hard this in-between time is, when you just don't know what to do or where to go — but God is with you on this journey. They will be with you wherever you go; in fact, the liminal spaces, the in-between not-quite-this-or-that people, are the places and people through which God most often acts <3

[lucygxybaird]

billy the kid on shuffle

carry on, you will always remember. carry on, none can equal the splendor. now your life's no longer empty, surely heaven waits for you. carry on, my wayward son, there'll be peace when you are done. lay your weary head to rest, don't you cry no more. - carry on wayward son; kansas

oh, north country winters keep a-gettin' me down, lost my money playin' poker, so i had to leave town. but i ain't turnin' back to living' that old life no more. so, rock me, mama, like a wagon wheel, rock me, mama, any way you feel. hey, mama, rock me. - wagon wheel; darius rucker

and they say there's a heaven for those who will wait, and some say it's better, but i say it ain't. i'd rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints, the sinners are much more fun. you know that only the good die young. - only the good die young; billy joel

oh, i hear a voice, it says i'm running behind. i better pick up my pace, it's a race and there ain't no room for someone in second place. i'm in a hurry to get things done, I rush and rush until life's no fun. all i really gotta do is live and die, but i'm in a hurry and don't know why. - i'm in a hurry (and i don't know why); florida georgia line

death doesn't discriminate between the sinners and the saints, it takes and it takes and it takes. and we keep living anyway. we rise and we fall and we break, and we make our mistakes. and if there's a reason i'm still alive when everyone who loves me has died, i'm willing to wait for it, i'm willing to wait for it. i am the one thing in life i can control, i am inimitable, i am an original. i'm not falling behind or running late. i'm not standing still, i am lying in wait. - wait for it; 'hamilton'

when i close my eyes, i see you, no matter where i am. i can smell your perfume through these whisperin' pines. i'm with your ghost again, it's a shame about the weather. but i know soon we'll be together, and i can't wait til then. - colder weather; zac brown band

and then they all fell to their knees, and begged that drifter, begged him please as he raised his fist before he spoke. "i am the righteous hand of god, and i am the devil that you forgot. and i told you one day you will see, that I'll be back, I guarantee, and that hell's coming, hell's coming, hell, hell's coming with me." - hell's comin' with me; poor man's poison

here they talked of revolution, here it was, they lit the flame. here they sang about tomorrow, and tomorrow never came. from the table in the corner, they could see a world reborn. and they rose with voices ringing, and i can hear them now! the very words that they had sung became their last communion, on the lonely barricade at dawn. oh, my friends, my friends, forgive me, that i live and you are gone. - empty chairs at empty tables; ramin karimloo

check out my btk playlist here

[cheerfullycatholic]

Hey I’m really struggling with my faith right now. Growing in holiness and becoming closer to God used to fill me with so much comfort and peace, but now it fills me with anxiety and dread because always trying to be holier feels like an impossible standard that I’m called by the Church to do but I’m never going to achieve. I struggle with going to church regularly for a variety of reasons, but now I feel that struggle is especially prominent because anytime I think of listening to a homily or hearing the word of God I get filled with more anxiety because I’m constantly getting called to do better and be better and strive for heaven all the time when I just want to be ok right now. I just want to appreciate the mundane aspects of life in the moment without worrying about achieving a certain standard that’s so high I can’t possibly reach it. I just want God to meet me where I am without feeling like I’m doing something wrong. I could really use some guidance or some help.

I know this is kind of a word vomit, I’m sorry. I don’t know who else to talk to about it.

I think what you feel is very common and normal. It honestly sounds a bit like religious OCD, if what I know about that is correct, but don't quote me on that (though it's worth looking into)

Something very important to remember is that it is impossible to gain perfection in holiness while on this earth, and that's okay :) all we can do is our best, and our best looks different for everyone. A faithful life can look like so many things. It's okay to just do what you can, even if it's not what you used to do. Our faith and how we live according to it naturally isn't going to be constant. It's going to change, like how a river flows more or less, the water level rising or lowering depending on the circumstances that it finds itself in. Just breathe, figure out what you realistically can do, and try to trust that God understands where you're at and has mercy for your situation. He calls everyone to the Church, not to all be exactly the same, but to bring their own unique gifts, experiences, and thoughts into full communion with Him. The wide variety of saints is proof of that. Just look at the huge differences between St. Francis of Assisi and Joan of Arc. Two very different people who lived two very different lives both made it to sainthood! Why can't we?

[coldswarkids]

attended a group event with the volleyball people finally. results:

multiple guys talked to me. when they found i have a boyfriend, literally 7/8 lost interest and wandered away. sir you've known me for a year and a half. you could have shot your shot but you didn't

man 1/8 is the only valid amongst them

tried to talk to the girls but was ignored by most of them and literally shouldered out of the girl-talking-circle multiple times

caught a moment to talk to the priest that was there. he tried to start an indoor section of the group.

i volunteered to help, along with one girl i really dislike because she talks and talks and talks and talks and

she asks her questions of the priest, gets her answers

i ask the priest, since viking was baptized catholic, do i have to write to the archbishop for permission to marry him or is it already sacramental, even though he's not practicing and hasn't received first communion or confession

no. YAY. to quote the biebs, thank you God and also Jesus.

Annoying Girl interjects excitedly about her and her bf and how they're struggling too (?????) and how she relates to my struggle (??????????????????). they have been dating for so long and marriage is just not in sight yet but she is confident that it will be soon. so she understands why i am upset

i am dumfounded. no we are fine girl. i am not in the least upset. we plan to be [redacted] by [redacted]

her: aww!!!!!!!!! (continues to grill me with questions about my relationship. i give her very stone wall non-answers that are bland and placating. she immediately relates every single answer to mean that i am OMG GIRLLLL in the same situation as her and her boyfriend

priest sends me over the pre-cana and pre-marriage retreat information as distributed by his parish. this is very helpful thank you father

he does not send it to her

she begins to talk excitedly about catholicism and her faith and expound upon the glories of her relationship with God, at greatttttttt length

me: mmmm, thats so cool

priest: ..................beautiful

priest excuses himself "I'm going to go see if everyone outside needs anything"

me: you son of a bitch dont you fucking leave me here

im stuck in the room with her for another 15 minutes uninterrupted before i can finally be like hey want to go outside and get a burger

priest is sitting outside with other people. because of course he is

i try to make conversation with others

instead, as ALWAYS in these situations, i am accosted by the multiple small children who find me an excellent person to talk to

i talk to the children for the rest of the night, while their parents are freed to socialize instead

at the end of the night, end up trying to sit by the two girls who i actually want to be friends with

within the next 2 minutes they get up and leave

as i am leaving, accosted by dude who asks since i am musical, if i want to come to a jam session. (???) sure???

not a very successful evening as a whole thblkgknekljkjs

[scarabjewels]

Why The Prince of Egypt Suceeded As A Movie , Not just as an Adaptation of the Biblical Story

I watched this so many times, that it awoken the complicated feelings of empathy, sympathy and conflict in me. I have watched so much reaction videos about this and no disrespect to Christians (I grew up Christian btw) however I think that a lot have missed the point of Ramses as Moses' family and instead took the original Biblical passage to heart so much, that the complicated themes were sort of thrown out the window.

Biblical stories are a little tricky to adapt. People who grew up exposed to the religion know what it was like watching those animated shows and videos of biblical stories and how in your face the religion is. I still remember watching the dubbed version of Super Book (if ya know, ya know). There is a whole subject dedicated to just studying Christianity, carrying bibles and learning and relearning passages, assigned reading at weekly masses, and having quizzes about the homily everyone slept on after the holy communion (it was supposed to be wine, but they probably made is drank grape juice with some water, the "bread" is a little piece of wafer that just disintegrates in your tongue the moment you eat it).

I speak for this very specific audience, I know. To the people who didn't, this is what it was like. But funny enough, not once did they play the Prince of Egypt for us. Actually, I remember some of my peers not liking it, and they were hardcore Christians, by the way, like voluntarily praying in cathedrals. Yet, I have also heard people who aren't even Christian LOVE this film. It's just a beautiful film of so many other aspects.

I found it ironic that the complicated parts of the story was the hardest part to really understand. Yet there I was, 12 years old, one of the ones who weren't so devoted to the religion, binging this movie. I wanted to understand those complicated feelings, especially with Ramses and Moses.

Let me discuss the emotional stakes here and how sad and sympathetic everything was.

First, I am glad that Moses was really portrayed to be part of the royal family. That's what a lot of the adaptations did not take on with creative liberties with, Moses was always portrayed as a snobby prince in the first act. Moses was Ramses' brother and best friend, and you can tell how much they trusted and loved each other. They were really a family. Ramses, despite being older, looked up to Moses, as he was there for him ALWAYS. The love they shared was so great that it made the movie so sad. Their destinies to be enemies were so heartbreaking.

Now Ramses. Hey, I do not condone any of what he had done. However, he was a result of his upbringing. Pressured to be Pharaoh, all his life, his belief that slavery was just hard laborers to a good cause they are building was passed down to him. I can not blame him entirely for growing up to be what he is. The tough love was so tough, there was NO love. That man got daddy issues, he really promised to make an even greater Egypt than what his father built by literally having a larger monument of him than his father's. Its like Homelander and Gus, the need for approval of a father was so rooted in Ramses, it lived on even after his death. Let me also say there was no changing him, even when Moses was still in his life. Moses was also brought up like him. The beliefs passed down were the same, and they were raised in the same environment after all. But like any other two people living in the same system, they were bound to be different, but no one could have prepared their fate to be against each other in the future.

No matter how many scenarios we can make up for both of them to still be brothers and not be enemies, there was really nothing that could change what was going to happen.

It hurt to see how happy Ramses to see his brother, welcoming him with open arms, not as Pharaoh but a brother. Moses, too, I could not imagine having to do that to his adoptive family, his beloved brother, and best friend.

But well, they OUTGREW each other, but damn they really just had to be enemies, huh?

I will say, making them brothers makes sense how Moses got away with the plagues of Egypt. Not just because he WAS royalty of them or just because the Pharaoh was so stubborn, but because even when Ramses is Pharaoh, he loves Moses so much, even with resentment. He could never imagine to eliminate or to imprison him. I appreciate the writers connecting that and it was so much more impactful for the story.

Only when Ramses' son was gone where the hatred overcame him to really attack the Hebrews.

Oh, the taking of the first borns. It was a brutal crime for Ramses's father and predecessor to eliminate the first borns of the Hebrews, but it was just as brutal for God to take the first borns, too. The scene where Ramses lay his son's body to be then mummified and Moses even trying to console him, only to be hissed at (UNDERSTANABLY). He set the slaves free, yes, but this is an important scene that no one really won. Moses broke down, we know he never wanted this, he couldn't get through Ramses but this didn't have to happen. Ramses was stubborn and prideful, yes, but he is still a father. He is overcome with extreme hatred at this point, that Moses is not his brother anymore, but a man who is responsible for his son's death.

Damn, Ramses loved his son the way his father never did. I feel like he raised his son like the way he and Moses had fun. Those small scenes of pure affection and adoration for his son, his son was always involved in the kingdom, always hugged and protected by him and just before the scene where Moses turned the lake into blood, you can see him and his son bonding and just having fun. That essence of fun literally could have only come from his bond with Moses, which DOUBLES the sadness. Man, my overthinking makes this way too harsh on me.

Nonetheless, that "death" scene should never have been glamorized and I am glad that it was portrayed like that. Its not sweet revenge, it was brutal. No one had to die, especially children. No one was really happy in this scene, even with the grant of freedom.

The animation, by they way, I learned that it was a mix of PAINTINGS and 2D animation, damn those animators should be proud of their work. This is such a masterpiece.

There is another animated adaptation after this, by Dreamworks as well. It was Joseph: King of Dreams. The animation is made to TV level but otherwise okay. I do wish they made one of Queen Esther. If you guys don't know or are interested, pick up the bible. I tell you now, as a literature enthusiast, the bible has stories that should be told in the way Dreamworks succeeded in telling the Exodus story. No fanatic air please.

CAN I ALSO JUST SAY HOW HOT EVERYONE IS

I think my type was born here, the men were good looking, Moses got that good beard and Ramses had age with him actually, the jawline and those sculpted cheeks?

But, Ramses' mom though? GODDESS. Zipporah? HER EYES AND SPARK and Miriam, girl, I think my type came from her. Jawline, smile, kindness damn.

[uncovering-sumac]

So Long, Sumac by Del Blauschild

Hey loyal readers! This is the last time you'll hear from me for at least a little while. Sumac's tourism board is taking a break while we sort a few things out. We're not an official newspaper and we could get in trouble for running our mouths (and pens), so here are a few things we WON'T be making a statement on:

The hip fragment found in Candor Lake. Pulled from the waters by my very own upstairs neighbor during a midnight constitutional-slash-communion-with-the-spirits-of-the-departed, the fragment was confirmed to belong to former tourism writer Pat Davies. The tourism board has no official stance on the rumors that the wife of our town's mayor was seen with him the night he disappeared, or on her own recent disappearance. Rest in peace Pat.

The mayor's sudden collapse and death last night. Listen, it's called "unexplainable" for a reason. Why would I (or the ghost who's been gone from my apartment since my last post) know anything about that?

The shutdown of the lakefront. We know as much as you do: no drinking or bathing until further notice.

And here are a few things I WILL be commenting on!

Acacia. A few nights ago she followed Aiden home and refused to leave. We guess he has a cat now. Even fully dosed on Benadryl it's a little hard to spend quality time with her, but she likes being read to. So that's a start.

My new job. I never thought I would end up using my econ degree, but Bryn told me they could use an office manager up at the ranger station. To keep the park's books, schedule some programming, and write copy for educational materials. It's so far from where I saw myself at 18, it could be another planet. But I'm excited. And I'm happy to keep writing.

My neighbor's muffin recipe. When I came home to find a handwritten note tied up in a lock of blond hair and stuck to the door with a pin I swore I've seen the mayor's wife wear, my heart dropped. But when I unrolled it, I recognized the directions to make the muffins my upstairs neighbor gave me on my first day here.

~Darla's muffin recipe~

2 cups flour, 2 tsp baking powder, 1 cup milk, 3/4 cup sugar, 1/4 cup oil, 1 egg, 1 1/2 cup mulberries, 1 tsp tears shed for a lost loved one.

Preheat oven to 350F. Line a muffin tin with muffin papers. Carve the name of your loved one into a candle and light it.

Whisk together flour, baking powder, and salt while chanting the Litany of Grief. Continue to chant while mixing milk, sugar, egg, and oil. Pour wet ingredients into dry and whisk together.

Gently fold in the mulberries.

Scream at the moon.

Transfer the batter to the prepared tin. Sprinkle each muffin with brown sugar and a few extra berries.

Bake at 350F for 25-30 minutes, or until a sacrificial dagger inserted into the center comes out clean. Allow to cool for a few minutes, then serve. Allow the past to remain where it lies. Honor your grief, then put it to rest and walk boldly into the future with its valuable wisdom in your heart. Can be stored in an airtight container for 1-3 days room temp or 1-2 months in the freezer.

[definegodliness]

Alexander's retreat

I was actually there when the band was formed.

Arrived to the garden, late, and some guys were already playing ultra mellow notes. It was strange how the way they handled their instruments immediately reminded me of my first crush, and how I was too timid to even touch that girl.

It was sound in senseless carefulness: guitars and drums and synthesizers, all seemed to beg to be made scream, yet all they'd get was a limply brushing caress of cowardice.

Then, a voice. Like a choir boy, disappointed not to get a solo; obligatorily singing some song with a communion wafer, half-lodged in his throat.

I slouched back in a lawn chair, trying to mentally escape the scene, but all I could think of was potpourri.

I closed my eyes, and, for some reason, the scent of Wunderwasser 4711, wafting from my grandmother's purse came to me. I thought of greyed wet towels, flopped on a bathroom floor. A tall glass of water, tapped without knowing someone used the hot a little while before, and that unsuspected mouthful of lukewarm.

I thirsted.

Oh, what I had given for some excitement.

Visions of porridge…

It was right about that time that I started to notice my dick had shriveled. An uncanny amount of excess room had taken the place where once dangled my proud Danger Noodle. And, as any sane person would, I unzipped there and then, trying to talk some sense into it:

"Hey, there, buddy. What's going on? You've retracted like a snail in his home. Come on, Alexander (the Great, red.), think of the aesthetics! All balls is not at all a pleasing image. What's the matter? We're not afraid, and it's a tepid autumn day. You should be lounging against my thigh. Why… why… why?!"

"Mark…"

I snapped out of my attempted dick dialogue.

"… the fuck are you doing?"

"My dick… my dick! He's not well!"

"Stop fucking around. We finally have found

✨✨ Our Sound ✨✨."

"Yeah, zip up, Mark. Make yourself useful and help us think of a name for our band."

Such unempatheticness.

"He's cold", I whimpered, "but it's not Cold! … maybe if I play with it…"

Frantically I started applying Dick CPR.

Rhythmically muttering out:

"Cold… play… cold… play…", in desperation. Until finally I saw a glimpse of its pink head, shyly popping out of its hiding; still somewhat wary of what could merely be a temporary silence.

I sighed. He had survived.

I was kicked out of the band, shortly after that. Not because of 'the incident', but because of my hopeless addiction to Edgard Cooper's Duck & Chicken Jerky Kibbles. Still, I think it is safe to say I played a vital part in the band's origination.

[varianandhugodonotgetrawed]

Easter One Shot!

Desc: Varian and Hugo are getting ready for Easter Sunday service. Cw: one (1) small curse word.

Have a happy Easter (or just a regular Sunday)!

_______________________________

"That's too tight, Hairstripe." Hugo commented, voice tight.

"Hm? Oh, sorry." Varian loosened his boyfriend's tie, the lime green one with rabbits on it. Hugo had gotten it specifically to wear on Easter Sundays. "How is that? Suitably loose for seducing the old ladies who serve communion?"

"I suppose," Hugo struck a dramatic pose. "How's that?"

"Well, they might fall over laughing and then you could help them up." Varian remarked, looking away so he wouldn't snicker. "A little meet-cute."

"That's what I thought," Hugo straightened his tie in the bathroom mirror. "There's a stain on my pants, dammit."

Varian fake-gasped. "A curse word? In this apartment?" He shook his head. "God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit do not care about... a gravy stain on your pants. Calm down." He straightened his own tie in the mirror, the one with teal and burgundy stripes.

"Should I let my hair down? Or leave it up?" Hugo fretted.

"I don't believe anyone would recognize you if you left it down. I think it'd be like exposing your ankles. Scandalous." When Hugo continued to fail to laugh at Varian's sarcastic remarks, he knew something was up. Varian turned away from the mirror, and with his hands on Hugo's shoulders, turned his boyfriend toward him. "Hey. What's up? You're stressed."

Hugo sighed. "It's nothing-" he stopped when he saw Varian's glare. "I just. Kind of feel like a mess. I've been in a weird place recently, you know that. And my clothes, my hair, aren't quite right. I just don't feel ready to be in church. Like maybe I should figure things out before I do."

Varian pulled Hugo into a tight hug. "That might be the stupidest thing you've ever said, Beanpole." He leaned back, looking his boyfriend in the eyes. "You know, like, the whole point of Easter is that our sins are, like, forgiven and crap? You remember that thing in... eh, what verse is it? Whatever, doesn't matter. 'It isn't the healthy who need a doctor'. That thing?"

Hugo rolled his eyes, but nodded.

"You're fine. By, like, definition. Look, we don't even have to talk to anyone. We'll go, get through service, grab a donut, then go home and watch Jesus Christ Superstar and VeggieTales while eating spiral ham. Sound alright?"

Hugo laughed a bit. "You and your ham. Fine, you win. Let's just go so we're not late, yeah?"

"Yeah." Varian grinned, then grabbed the keys. "I'm driving, the way you drive scares me. Jesus came back from the dead, but we will not if we die in a crash."

"Hey, I only ran two red lights last time," Hugo protested, though smiling as he followed Varian.

[maaarine]

ouhhh thoughts on conclave? also I'm just curious, were you raised religious/hold any spiritual beliefs at all?

great movie!

a) there were so many great shots and such a compelling vibe that I immediately looked up who the director was

and it made total sense that it's the guy who also directed All Quiet on the Western Front (Edward Berger), a movie that also had great shots and a compelling vibe

b) I thought the "treatment in Switzerland" plot was super interesting, like you do want to watch them struggle with that

c) Isabella Rossellini stole every scene, fantastic casting

d) loved how the Italian cardinal was the most Italian that's ever Italianed

e) the way Stanley Tucci made me go "oh he's perfect for that role" when he played a gay fashion guy in Devil Wears Prada was eerily similar to the way I went "oh he's perfect for that role" when I saw him as a cardinal with a silly hat in Conclave

—

as for me I was raised Catholic (by my mom, my father dgaf)

baptism, communion, Catholic schools, Catholic health insurance, crucifix above my bedroom door that I was not allowed to take down lol — hey at least we didn't go to mass!

I never believed in any of it so I refused to do my confirmation when I was 15 and my mom freaked the fuck out, it was a BIG fight, but I stood my ground and I've been a heathen ever since

my brothers each got married in a church and I found it extra hard not to audibly cringe at that circus, I could never

[wizardofarles]

hey guys, no lykmc update today as chapter ten is not finished. 😞 i will leave you with a snippet by way of apology (and also because i completely forgot to post one last week).

LYKMC Ch.10 Sneak Peek:

“Twenty-five dollars?” Lazar complained. “That’s exorbitant!”

Laurent shrugged. “I don’t make the rules.”

“You quite literally do.”

Laurent leaned back, resting his elbows on the cold metal accessibility bar that ran along the wall and pretended to consider that for a moment. “You’re right. I’d forgotten. That will be thirty dollars.”

“What?” Lazar’s mouth fell open. “You can’t do that! It was twenty-five a second ago!” Pallas put a soothing hand on his boyfriend’s arm. In his other hand he held a red plastic solo cup, identical to the one in Lazar’s hand.

“I think Lazar deserves a discount for his athletic prowess today,” said Pallas, beaming at Lazar. “He won the game for us almost single-handedly.”

Laurent hadn’t been there, but he’d heard all about it from Ancel. The RVAB varsity football team was down by three points for most of the game, but in the last ten seconds Damianos threw a perfect Hail Mary all the way across the field to Lazar who sprinted past the defenders and caught it in the end zone. The game had eaten up Damianos’s entire afternoon and prevented him from taking Laurent to the stable today.

“I think you should stop talking about football before I turn you away. And as you’ve so kindly reminded me,” said Laurent, “I make the rules, and I’ve just implemented a five dollar attitude fee.”

Pallas snorted, and Lazar let out a breath of disbelieving laughter. “You’re nuts. I’m not paying that.”

Laurent examined his nails. “Then you’re welcome to look for alcohol elsewhere at this Catholic school dance. Maybe one of the priests will give you communion if you ask nicely.”

He saw his victory in the way Lazar’s face fell. Without waiting for an answer, Laurent crouched in front of his backpack, which rested on the floor in the back corner of the bathroom stall, and pulled out one of the three liquor bottles he’d stolen from Auguste’s secret stash in his closet that he thought no one knew about. “Cash only,” said Laurent. His recent predicament with the concealer had gotten him thinking he ought to accrue some capital of his own. Cold hard cash that his uncle couldn’t touch.

Lazar grudgingly forked over a wrinkled twenty and two five dollar bills, which Laurent pocketed before pouring the liquor into his cup. Pallas stepped up with his cup next.

Laurent smiled at him. “That will be ten dollars.”

Pallas grinned at Lazar as Laurent poured a generous shot of vodka into his punch.

“You’re a stone cold bitch, de Vere,” said Lazar, but strangely, he was laughing. He and Pallas left together, and Laurent locked the stall door again once they were out. He could still hear their conversation as they walked past the sinks.

“I’ll give you ten dollars,” Pallas said. “It’ll be like we each paid twenty.”

Lazar cooed. “You’re so sweet to me, babe. How will I ever repay you?”

Pallas’s voice turned wicked. “Just bring that sweet-talking mouth over here, babe, and I’ll show you what—” The bathroom door closed behind them, sparing Laurent from any more of their revolting PDA, and leaving him alone in silence.

He had chosen a bathroom on the second floor of the school to set up shop, far enough from the gymnasium where the homecoming dance was taking place that no one was likely to stumble into it by chance. For a small cut of the profit, Ancel had agreed to help Laurent by subtly spreading the word among the students in the gym. He sent up the customers with instructions to knock three times on the last stall and pay in cash. So far, Laurent had already gone through almost a whole bottle of vodka and made a little over two hundred dollars thanks to Lazar and Pallas’s contributions, and the night was still young.

Laurent leaned back against the metal bar again and scrolled aimlessly through his Instagram feed on his phone. He wished he’d thought to sneak a folding chair in here or something. As it was, there was nowhere to sit but the toilet or the floor, and Laurent was not that desperate yet. His mind wandered as he scrolled, and he felt his mood turning bitter. He was still upset that he hadn’t been able to see Pyrrha today. Damianos had driven him to the stable yesterday afternoon as promised, but the whole trip had been darkened by Damianos’s mood. The Akielon had been uncharacteristically quiet and brooding, barely stringing two words together throughout the entire thirty minute drive to Acquitart. No doubt his brother’s betrayal was heavy on his mind. He hadn’t risen to any of Laurent’s petty jabs, and he didn’t even crack a smile when Laurent—who had been eating sour gummy worms in the passenger seat—threw one of the worms at Damianos’s face. “Here, to go with that sour mood,” he’d said, but Damianos had only brushed the sour dust off his face and scowled harder. He made for such poor company that Laurent almost regretted telling him of Kastor’s plans in the first place.

Those plans should have played out this morning, unless Damianos had interfered. I wonder which way he chose; his father, or his brother? To speak up or to stay quiet? Based on his previous observations of Damianos, Laurent suspected he already knew the answer, but the brute sometimes surprised him. Laurent wondered what he would do if it were his own brother plotting against his uncle. The thought brought him close to laughter. Auguste wasn’t much of a plotter, and he wouldn’t get far against their uncle. But if it were the other way around …

The bathroom door creaked open and let in a shuffle of footsteps. Dress shoes rang sharply against the tile floor, growing closer to the stall where Laurent was lurking. The shoes appeared in the wide gap under the door, black and polished to a sheen, just as three terse knocks rattled the door on its hinges.

“Lo? It’s me.”

Swallowing his irritation at the nickname, Laurent unlatched the door and pulled it open to reveal Ancel in a slim-fitted emerald suit with a sheer white lace shirt beneath his jacket. Adorned with fake gold and glass gems, he looked like a cheap whore.

Laurent himself did not have a single piece of jewelry on his person. He had dressed plainly for the dance in a classic black tuxedo with satin lapels, for once in total compliance with the dress code—aside from the makeup on his neck that covered his bruises. The employee at the store had been right, it was a perfect match. It blended in seamlessly with his skin, showing no hint of the discoloration underneath.

Ancel tucked a loose strand of silky red hair behind his ear and grimaced, not meeting Laurent’s eye. “So,” he spoke to the wall behind Laurent, “there’s a slight hiccup in the plan.”

The hiccup stepped out from behind Ancel, all dressed up in a little black tuxedo, and decorated in blue. The bow tie snaked around his delicate neck, the bruise that stained his cheek, and the handful of glittering teardrops that dangled from his ear—blue, blue, blue. And his eyes, the bluest Laurent had ever seen, glared out of his round face like two deep wells of contempt.

“I know what you’re doing,” declared Nicaise, “and I’m going to tell your uncle.”