#there was also a catholic guy and he said they have like various call and response ones that you choose from though so i guess theyre like

[willowed-wisp]

RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONs [ johnny ‘soap’ mactavish ]

Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish x f!reader/you

SFW

- When you guys met, you thought he was an airhead, blue eyed meat head. Still is but he was also a deeply caring and affectionate person

- Probably met on his way back from the gym or in the gym- depends if you workout or not.

- Johnny isn’t the type to restrain his thoughts- immediately asked for you out and the rest is history.

- Now to the dating- he is 100% Rottweiler energy… a mix of golden retriever boyfriend that can flip his switch. He’ll protect you- no second thoughts.

- You meet his parents after a week of officially dating, his mum loves you and tells him to get on one knee then and there. Spoilers he’s already planned out the rest of your lives together… not in a creepy way.

- Back hugs are his thing, he’s like a backpack out and about. Just to let everyone know you’re his.

- Looks at you like you’re the only thing he’s ever known… the air he breathes. Deep blue eyes filled with adoration, you couldn’t put it into words. Only that your heart flutters whenever he’s looking your way.

- Makes stupid dad jokes, especially when hanging out with Ghost

- Ghost is definitely the best man at your wedding, whether he likes it or not.

- You’re well acquainted with the boys from 141. Price feels like a father figure, Gaz the relentless older brother and Ghost like a protective cat.

- Takes you to the local pub every time Aberdeen F.C. play and watch it at the bar. It’s amusing to see him a few pints in and saying, “Goal keeper, pfftt, I could keep be’er in primary school…”

- Let’s just say, you’d crack up and nearly drag him off the stool beside you.

- Not to mention when you buy him season tickets for Aberdeen… he’d be the loudest in the stadium if not for you. The look of pride when you repeat what he said in the pub… Christ, he was a lucky man.

- If you had told him you wanted him to retire from the military, he probably would have. He even spoke to you about it.

- You nearly slapped him in the face, calling him an ‘eejit’ (picking up Scottish slang). Thats probably when he knew he’d spend the rest of his life with you.

- It may have broken your heart when he was away, no way to contact you on covert missions. You didn’t even know where he was… but you couldn’t watch him lose himself, knowing that he was born to be in the SAS.

- You noticed a new tattoo on his hip, “why the hell is my name tattooed on your body?” And he would reply, “You’re my lady, enough said.”

- He pops the question somewhere lowkey like your house, just plops down on one knee with a ring in a box. You thought he’d fallen over and instantly told him to get up. So taken aback, you have a ring on your finger and Johnny’s arms around you.

- The wedding was a riot, his family are Roman Catholic raised and you were okay with the ceremony is the local Catholic parish.

- You can’t remember who walks you down the aisle, but at the end of it is Johnny MacTavish in a kilt with his family tartan. You didn’t focus on his military formals adorned with various badges, or that kilt. It was the tears in his sapphire eyes, with Price and Ghost behind him as well as his cousin, the one who inspired him to join the forces.

- The Scottish knew how to party… you danced the night away. Ghost was Johnny’s best man. His speech entailed how, “Johnny wouldn’t stop talkin’ abou’ Y/N. An’ meetin’ her I could see why, she winds your neck in, mate.”

NSFW under cut….

NSFW

- Johnny waited until you were ready to do anything. He’s a gentleman, unlike popular belief.

- But after he coaxed you into working out with him… watching him pump not only the weights but you… you were a gonna, you got back to your place and your lips were crushed against his own.

- Stripping his arms of the hoodie, revealing those thick, rippling arms and the tattoos. His look drove you insane, never been so wet in your life.

- He struggled to keep at your pace, wanting to amp it up because you’d been driving him insane since he met you. Johnny was at his wits end when he hiked you into his arms. So steady and unyielding, lips indenting lilac across the span of your neck before ravaging your lips.

- Hips bucking into your spread legs, straight to the middle. Where you needed him.

- That first time, no time was wasted and no foreplay required. You marvelled slightly at all of him. This was the first time seeing him topless let alone butt naked… he knew he struck the jackpot with you when he could barely fit the tip in.

- Clawing at his numerous scars and moaning effervescence. His name so sweetly rolled off your tongue- the only thing she could muster. And the soldier couldn’t help that drop dead gorgeous smile play on his lips, you shuddered beneath him on the couch you normally watched movies on.

- Maybe that’s when you knew he’d be the man you’d spend the rest of your life with.

- Sex feels like slow motion with Johnny MacTavish, something about his starlight kissed eyes makes time feel like it stopped. Even in a non-sexual sense, you swear you see the dust shine in sunbeams when sharing eye contact.

- Johnny loves watching you ride him, getting tired out because he’s not easy to break. Meeting your bounces, fingers scarring your hips as he thrusts into you.

- Don’t let this man catch you in one of his tight fit t-shirts, if you don’t wanna be around his cock in ten seconds flat.

- Yes, he’s that fast.

- The aftercare KING. Want hot chocolate and a Christmas on in the middle of July- he’ll do it.

- Need a stonking hot bubble bath, he’s getting the rubber ducky and carrying there bridal style. Washing your hair and your body.

- He just loves you and cannot get over how lucky he is to be such a beauty- inside and out

- If you want round two, three or four during the aftercare… he’s got stamina for days soooo it’s really your pick of Johnny special

————

masterlist

[marley-manson]

One of the show’s biggest flaws is excusing the army volunteers and its general ‘some army good’ messaging, and as a consequence Hawkeye’s biggest flaw, accidentally, is caring about his friends too much.

Like, totally reading against the text here, this is presumably not meant to be a problem, but it’s one of those once you see it you can’t unsee it things. And to be fair it’s backed up by Bless You Hawkeye lol, it just wasn’t intended to be applied this way. It’s also totally in line with the rest of Hawkeye’s character, and it’s my favourite type of flaw, ie the negative flipside of a virtue, so yk I’m biased towards seeing it.

Hawkeye making friends with Margaret and never calling her out on her politics again (again, not intended, reflective of the narrative, but incidentally fitting for Hawkeye), Hawkeye making friends with career man Potter and softening his anti-army stance, affirming he does respect Potter and reigning in his protests (eg the end of A Night at Rosie’s) and conceding to him philosophically (eg the end of Your Retention Please), Hawkeye supporting Mulcahy’s promotion endeavours and saluting him, Hawkeye warming up to Charles not when Charles’ politics shift (which doesn’t happen) but when Charles supports him emotionally...

Even early on you can make a case for Hawkeye having blindspots where people he likes are concerned - mainly because the politics of the show are wishy washy and vary from era to era and episode to episode and joke to joke, but yk, the point of this is to incorporate the flaws of the show organically into Hawkeye’s character. So you can point to indications of hypocrisy like, say, Hawkeye condemning western cultural influence in Korea in various jokes and statements on one hand and supporting Catholic orphanages on the other hand.

But like I said, this is perfectly in character for Hawkeye, which is why I think it works as a reading for me. I don’t like to take flaws of a show and and use them to interpret a character in a way that feels unintended or contradicts other characterization. But Hawkeye likes people, and he always tries to see the good in them as much as possible, and he has a textual history of downplaying the harm people do in favour of the good things, specifically because he loves them. 

And I think that “love” is the operative word here. It’s not because Hawkeye is weak-willed or has low self esteem or thinks anyone else knows better than he does or thinks he doesn’t have the right to challenge others’ opinions or anything like that. Love is the core of Hawkeye’s character.

Hawkeye forgets Billy pushing him into the water and only remembers him saving him because he loves him. Hawkeye forgives BJ for punching him the instant he apologizes and then lets him cry on his shoulder because he loves him, and empathizes. And if love is sometimes too strong a word, well, Hawkeye also just likes people. He views people optimistically, and always tries to see the good - the cavalier bomber in Dear Sigmund who he disillusions surprisingly gently imo because Hawkeye says he seems like a good guy; the general he has a drink with in Say No More before realizing he hasn’t changed his attitude despite his son’s death; the way that even early on he supports Margaret at times, and sometimes even tries to make nice with Frank...

And it just makes sense to me to take that same logic and follow through with other characters and similar situations. Colonel Potter is a career army man who essentially acts as the warden of a prison as far as Hawkeye’s draftee status ought to be concerned but he’s loveable and therefore Hawkeye loves him. By drafting him the army essentially drove him insane, and Hawkeye’s last gesture to Potter is to salute him.

Margaret is racist, isn’t challenged for it and never has an episode where she realizes she’s wrong in her us vs them worldview, is also career army, and has tried to have Hawkeye and his friends court martialed multiple times (and would’ve gotten Henry executed incidentally if her plan had succeeded in The Trial of Henry Blake) and it’s all forgotten about - yes, mainly by the narrative, but also consequently by Hawkeye, watsonianly.

It creates a very interesting tension when you take these things watsonianly instead of dismissing them like the narrative does, and I’m really into it lol.

[cashandprizes]

5+1 Redacted Headcanons

thank you sooo much @ejunkiet you absolute darling for tagging me, this is so exciting!

Tagging my friends (hope you weren't tagged yet): @bratty-telepath, @penncilkid, @zozo-01, @latenightsleeper share your headcanons with the world (tumblr)

Uhhhhh since it's me we're just gonna put this bad boy under a cut, minors dni go away and as usual we take canon out back like ol yeller k thanks let's get into it

1.

In case you haven't noticed, I have a lot of thoughts about Lasko Moore. I'm gonna talk about the fact that Lasko gives off such repressed Southern Bible Belt energy, tgwgigitgwdd. I think it would be so funny if he got rid of his southern accent until he forgets himself and says some real southern grandma shit like "Jesus Mary and Joseph" or "Mother of pearl" or "Jesus be a fence". I feel like Lasko's storyline is pretty queer coded and I think you know why not just add in a little religious trauma to top it off? Not only is being the magical queer son of an unempowered family hard, there's definitely some bible thumpers who think it's demonic, it's a sin, you name it. And who does everything is about church and you are filled with sin better than southern Catholics am I right? like iykyk. That man was repressed as fuck and moving to Dahlia and being around magic users was obviously so life-changing for him.

2.

Which is where it gets spicy, cause it's me. Deep in Lexi (@autisticempathydaemon) and I's DMs is what I like to call the "Unholy Trinity" files, which is me just talking about various redacted characters and their hoe phases before canon started and this post features two different headcanons. When it comes to Lasko though, like I said that boy was REPRESSED and once he was on his own? Oh he went wild. I like to think it started with him going with his roommates or something to an unempowered frat party and he was like "I want to be this free. I want to not have to think" and it started with him just getting drunk but then he realized there's an even better way to shut your mind off that doesn't come with a hangover - getting fucked stupid. The most important part of this headcanon though was at the height of his hoe phase, he was at an unempowered frat party on a weekend after one of the local college sportsball teams won a championship. Lasko was like a little fucked up idk maybe he took some molly or something but he decided that since they won the game, there should be a reward right? Which ends up being him letting like 12 dudes on the football team run a train on him like some kind of hentai gangbang. He doesn't really remember it, but he's LEGENDARY at that college for years afterwards.

3.

And then there's Doll cause it isn't me if I don't talk about Regulus. I obviously looove Reggie and while I hear the Regulus has kidnapped his listener and they are struggling against him, hear me out. I think it would be so delightful if Regulus's listener was someone who was at such a bad point in their life that Regulus was a welcome change. Doll thinks they're going crazy at first, but it's so nice to not have to worry about things anymore. They don't have to go to work, they don't have to worry about making and keeping friends, they don't have to worry about money - Regulus takes care of all of it. Regulus tells them exactly what to do and makes them do it and it's suuuuuuch a relief for them to have someone tell them what to do and to completely give into someone. Regulus to me seems like someone who needs to be needed and by god I gave him a listener who is so grateful for him erasing everything in their brain but him. Also playing with the idea that Doll could be blind, but that's a whooooole other post.

4.

Sentencing your partner to three hours in silly jail for their silly crimes against humanity. love me a hot honey pizza So I love Guy and have been listening to him a lot and talking about him a lot. It's almost a problem. But I have this hilarious idea that after Guy and Honey got together, lived together for a while, really got into each other, they needed to get a new apartment. They're not super well off, but they weren't willing to compromise on the fact that they needed to be on a top floor and sturdy ceilings so they could have anchor points for suspension. Because Honey loves tying Guy up, gagging him, and sitting in a chair nearby with a cup of coffee getting some work done and their hoodie on while Guy... hangs out. get it, hangs out??? anyway there's also a sign in the room that says "Silly Jail" which Guy finger painted for Honey as a joke but is hung on the wall.

5.

Milo..... oh Milo. How I have mentally corrupted you. This is part two of the unholy trinity files. I think Milo used to be, and I say this in the kindest way possible, a bit of a fuckboy. He was a good guy, he was really polite, but he wasn't interested in relationships but definitely into sex. And Milo Greer got AROUND. Lexi and I were like "how many people in canon can we have made him sleep with and can we put them in a groupchat called 'raise your hand if you've ever been personally victimized by milo greer' where they just trade stories about how buckwild he got before he grew out of it" and it's HILARIOUS. Somehow Vincent, Sam, and Alexis are in the gc and they HATE IT, Lasko and Gavin are in there, Hudson definitely is, and just a bunch of people. There's some HILARIOUS mock texts we made that I will share with you. “I didn’t know I could squirt until Milo Greer” "milo greer is all i can think about when people talk about men growling in erotic novels. i asked him for a demonstration for a book i was writing and somehow I ended up with my panties shredded, covered in bites, and dehydrated. my novel is doing really well now btw" "i cannot believe milo has fucked me and both of my siblings. good to know you're all here, say nothing about it ever" "when he said my size was not a problem he wasn't fucking playing. he deadlifted me because he thought it would make me feel better. this man had my ankles by my ears. no man has ever compared" "you know how guys like to say they can turn lesbians? if he got me, he could get others. lesbians are no longer safe"

+1

And last but certainly not least I have been a whore I am a whore I will continue to be a whore - If being a hot werewolf boy means you don't have a knot, I don't want it anymore untrue but my point stands. I love a/b/o, I love knots, I'm a monsterfucker, what can I say? I think all of the Shaw pack would really just be improved if being a wolf shifter meant you got a fat knot. I know can't be the only one, come on somebody.

[papirouge]

What are your views on Catholics or very traditional Catholics? I’ve spoken with one guy who was and he believed that even women shouldn’t work and called it unbiblical. I mentioned the various women in the Bible that had businesses and worked but he didn’t really get it. I don’t get their animosity towards jobs too.

Because I’m poor and I’ve always had to work and women in my family never had money, we always had to work. Eventually I got him to admit that poor women should work (for no pay too) for rich women who should stay home and make babies. He lived a very sheltered life I learned. He didn’t even understand how taxes worked or how much things cost because he was still being taken care of by his very wealthy parents. Both of his parents were doctors too 🙄 he never needed a job or to go to school but only went to party. I think honestly he isn’t really Christian, he just feels so insecure and inadequate next to women who are business owners and educated so he’s Catholic to feel important. Because his world views and how he feels the world be is so ignorant

But I don’t pity him at all because he let it slip out that women with no family or friends to care for them should be prostitutes for men because prostitutes existed in Jesus time. And he still had the audacity to ask me why he was still single. It’s bad when you learn that even those hardcore traditional pick me catholic girls don’t want you 🫥

I always said I vibed more with Catholic women than I do with non Catholic ones.

I don't think being "very traditional" is remotely relevant to your relationship with God, so "very religious catholic/Christian" doesn't mean anything imo. Jesus broke several times "traditions" and negatively caught the attention of pharisees so I think this whold "traditionalist Christianity " that's quite en vogue rn is one huge misinterpretation of what Christianity really is.

And you're right, the Bible never portrayed women working negatively so male traditionalists beefing against women in the workforce shows that their grievance has more to do with their incelness and drive to control women, than a genuine will to follow the Bible.

I'm absolutely not surprised he lived a sheltered life and probably didn't witness women in his family working. But you know what's funny? It's that those people never seemingly connect why the Bible puts so much emphasis in helping the widow and old women with the fact that those women were depending on men for their survival and happened to be financially vulnerable once alone (with kids). You can bet men like the one you're talking about would not accept financially helping them because cOmMunIsm or something like that. They wanna prevent women from working but also refuse to deal with the (financial) consequences of women not working... And they have the audacity to blame feminism when feminism is one of the reasons falling into poverty once your husband dies/leaves is not a fatality for women. On that aspect, feminism represents a net positive for women, and that's why I'll never be an "anti feminist". Men didn't wait feminism to be piece of shit and abusing women out of their financial vulnerability. There's a reason female hysteria or poisoning your husband for social liberation were a bigger deal back then. "Life was easier when women didn't work uwu" anti feminists should go back to 1845, and shut the fuck up at this point.

Him painting prostitution as an alternative for poor women closes the deal about how this man wasn't Christian anyway. Their mask always slips off. Those men don't want Catholic pick mes either because they get a thril caging "liberal" women. That's the exotic bird syndrome. That's why they love porn and all this degrading stuff. Have you noticed how those dumb conservatives rage bait content sound like porn video title "blue haired SJW lady gets DESTROYED by based maga Chad" or shit like that. TRA do the same with 'terf' as well. They are obsessed humiliating them. They even profess their weird porn fantasies raping them...

[eremosjournal]

How To Throw a Last Supper Party

by Elise Letrondo

Holy Thursday is a day of religious reflection on Jesus’ last day before death. It is also the day we remember perhaps the most iconic dinner party in history: The Last Supper. It had everything that I seek in a soiree: carbs, alcohol, and accusations of betrayal. Believe me, I still think Jesus was greatly wronged by his friends and local government. But if we care enough to reenact the Nativity scene each December, we should also take time to echo Jesus’ effort at celebration and togetherness before his execution. I think The Last Supper says a lot about the kind of person Jesus was: casual, generous, and down as hell. So I’ve designed a party to emulate The Last Supper so that everyone, Christian or otherwise, can party like they’re dying tomorrow.

FOOD

As a raving charcuterie enthusiast, I can’t picture a party without some kind of meat and cheese assortment. Luckily, the diet of Biblical times consisted largely of meat and dairy from various livestock, so charcuterie kind of tracks historically as well as deliciously. I assembled a board with some ingredients that are loosely reminiscent of Biblical times and Jesus’ relative geography. And since Holy Thursday is also a Catholic reverberation of Passover, I should add that this party is a great opportunity to find and support your local Jewish market. Just don’t go there hungry because you will find yourself in the checkout line with three loaves of fresh challah bread and nothing on your original shopping list. Everything else pictured is from Trader Joe’s. Obviously.

I used sheep and goat dairy for the cheeses, and included smoked fish and dried figs from the market. There are olives, dates, and hummus to round out the Middle Eastern vibe, though I’m realizing it is stupid to try to ethnify something as white as a Trader Joe’s charcuterie board. Blood oranges and endives add an elevated prettiness to distract you from the fact that you’re actually throwing a Holy Thursday party. Speaking of distraction, let’s move on to alcohol!

DRINK

“This is my blood of the covenant,” said Jesus, “which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.” 

Not to be that guy but I think if Jesus wanted to avoid sin, he shouldn’t have been passing around a cup of wine. I don’t drink much wine, as it causes me to turn red in the face and slide into the DMs of NBA players. If you’re like me and want a drink that packs the same punch as a robust merlot but tastes like a Capri Sun, I’ve crafted a signature cocktail for you to try this Holy Thursday. I call it “Blood of the Covenant”, and I think Jesus would have loved it.

4 oz cranberry juice cocktail (the sweet stuff, not the UTI stuff)

Juice of half a medium blood orange

1.5 oz vodka or gin

1 oz. Triple Sec

Club soda to finish

I am as bad a food photographer as I am a mixologist, especially after sampling the drink for an hour before remembering to take a picture of it. But a little raw sugar and blood orange slice made it look slightly more presentable! Still, plain old wine is just as good and on-theme, and much less work. And as an unemployed thirty-three-year-old, I think Jesus would have appreciated less work. Cheers, and please pour out for the forgiveness of sins responsibly.

GAMES

“Judas”

Gather enough cups for each guest at your party. The cups must be opaque, and should be disposable as you’ll be writing inside them. With a permanent marker, write “JC” (Jesus Christ) on the bottom of the inside of one of the cups, and “JI” (Judas Iscariot) on the inside bottom of another. Then fill the cups with the beverage of your choosing, preferably something dark enough to conceal the labels. Shuffle the cups around. Once everyone is gathered, cheers and drink to reveal whose cups were labeled or not.

I’ve made a playlist (linked in our Vol. 18 story highlight) that contains Lady Gaga’s goated bop “Judas” on it three times, along with some other more or less thematically related bangers. Play the playlist on shuffle during your party. Every time “Judas” comes on, everyone in attendance - twelve guests if you went for accuracy - must circle up and perform a “waterfall”, wherein each person starts drinking at the same time but cannot stop until the person before them stops drinking. Whoever’s cup was labeled “JC” is first in the waterfall and whoever’s was labeled “JI” is last. Refill the labeled cups once you finish and repeat whenever “Judas” comes back on. 

LINK TO PLAYLIST: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5TVtlP6ExvGW5udMSvVQYp?si=4e5f9746b9bd42f6

“Paranoia”

Gather in a circle, drinks in hand. Each player takes a turn to whisper a question into the ear of the guest to their right. Please, make it personal and incriminating. Out loud, the guest must answer honestly, without anyone knowing what was asked. Whoever is dying to know what the question was, they must drink before it can be disclosed. I suppose this game is in Judas’ Last Supper spirit of divulging information. But also, isn’t it just fun to be nosy?

And there are the bones of a swingin’ Last Supper Party! I know the tone of Holy Week is meant to be somber and low, but if Jesus wasn’t too good for a weekday kickback then neither am I. You can look at it as a celebration of his strange, miraculous life, or at the very least an excuse to be with people you love. I’ve gone back and forth about how much of the Bible I believe and how much of it I should just take as allegorical. After all, it was written by people as flawed as I am, and translated by them too. Being a couple years removed from my old faith, I’m not sure what the gospel means to me anymore. But I still like the image of The Last Supper, a lot. And I like who I think Jesus would have been too. I may not have a faith anymore, but the prospect of gathering, of eating good food surrounded by people who make me laugh the loudest, sounds holy to me. 

[the-churroguy]

Soapbox/TEDtalk time! You’ve been warned.

TW: SA and child trafficking

The answer “the church can’t call out abuse or racism”is WAY MORE ACCURATE than we all realize.

So, back in ye olde times, many European Christian’s wanted to make pilgrimages to Jerusalem and various other sacred sites in Palestine (tomb of Jesus, Mt. Olive etc.) but bandits were a really freaking problem, and since these were pilgrims, they didn’t carry much in terms of security. So a Frenchman by the name Hughes de Paynes and his closest friends and family members found an order of knights, called the poor man’s knights. They would act as hired security and muscle, and escort Europeans across “The Holy Lands”. Now these fellows had a vow, WE DON’T WANT MONEY. No seriously, they were a non-profit, and any funds they received would be sent back and put into a treasury that was SOLEY used for maintaining gear and paying settlements to the knights families if they died along the way. So this starts to catch some serious wind, and before long, the pope started supporting them in the only way popes really could. He blessed them, anointed them and said that the knights no longer had to pay taxes. (Note: I’m fairly certain that’s the reason why it’s a rule that churches dont pay taxes, the tradition of them being non-profit started from these guys. But don’t QUOTE me on that) Anywhosies, time goes on and the knights get more and more followers and they’re soon spread across Europe, and they are hoarding wealth, so much so that since they can’t pay it back, they start to use bonds and promises of credit in their dealings. THAT’S RIGHT! These peeps created a prototype banking system in Europe! Additionally, they receive the support of the current ruler of Jerusalem and set up a headquarters in the city section called Temple Mount, this is where Solomon’s temple was built. And they receive an honorary title that would spread like wildfire and last til this day. *Drum roll* the Knights of Temple Mount, later shortened to Knights Templar. So as time goes on, the Catholic Church realizes it made a bit of an oops (you’re shocked, I’m sure) because the knights are receiving more love and devotion than the church itself. So the new pope, when he rolls around decides he doesn’t like these guys, but he can’t do anything to condemn them. However, he wouldn’t have to worry, as the other big thing to do in Europe was watch France and England fight. A tradition that survives today in modern Futból. So the French ruler, one Philip lé Faire, petitions the Templars to fund their war against England since they have more money than literally all of Europe combined. The Templars say no, they’re not a fighting force and are non-militaristic (Oh, my poor sweet, summer child. If only you knew… this was all before the crusades BTW). Philip is unhappy now, and so he goes to the pope and tells him, AND THIS IS WHERE THE THING COMES IN, “The Knight Commander of the Templars is a practicing homosexual.” Welp, there it is, that’s all the pope needed. He orders the arrest and trial of every major commander, finds the ones he hates, accuses them of being gay, and kills them. Replaces them with officers that he directly approves of, and brings the whole order under the banner of the Catholic Church. The rest, as they say, is history. The Templars go on to lead campaigns to “purge the holy land” as well as settle themselves in England, which I’m fairly certain is also what started the christianization of most Danish and Saxon religions.

So, YES! Racism between the French and the English and the Catholic Church being greedy and abusing its power is what stated the HEAVY persecution of homosexuality more than literally ANY OTHER SIN. That and being partnered with the idea that the church partook in a “righteous” version of said sins: murder? “purging heretics”. Theft? “Generous tithing”. Child labor and trafficking? “Conscription”. It’s a disease.

Now, I hope I dont come across as mansplaining during all of that. The truth is, I am a Christian. And I don’t say that to come across as a performative ally or “one of the good ones”. I say all of this because I believe the church has lost its purpose and its way. We used to help people, not belittle them for differences. I want to see that changed, and I don’t know how else to start that than by presenting the truth as I understand it, because that’s the only way to open dialogue and change. Thank you for coming to my TEDtalk.

PS. Again I am VERY sorry if any of this came across as preachy, narcissistic or too much. I’m going through therapy and self improvement and am trying to identify toxic habits so I can break them. Much love to all ^_^

Why do racists not fear God?

Because the church can't call out abuse or racism.

[cruelsister-moved2]

sorry for my blog being incomprehensible again but i was at this interfaith thing yday and the like anglican priest(?) was like “omg we also say blessings before and after reading from the gospel samesies<3” and the rabbi was like thats so cool what are the blessings and the christians were just like ???you just make something up ??? 

[riotshotguns]

Okay you know what I feel like I should repay you because you've in the past inadvertently helped me by letting me gain enough vague knowledge of R6Siege to pretend I've played it to get like 50¢ from a survey so: Tell me about Lion! He seems like a guy you're eager to talk about

OH BOY TYSM glad i could help you get like 50¢ from a survey with my insanity . i’m sorry for all the information you’re about to lesrn he sucks so fuckign bad but i love him so much

so basically lion was a super rebellious teenager in a very well-off conservative catholic family and he ruined his life when he was 18 by fucking up and getting his at the time girlfriend pregnant. he begged her to get an abortion because his family is so religious they’d absolutely kill him if they found out, she said no, he tried to pressure her into it and she left, it was a whole thing. they did find out and disowned his ass and he, now faced with being kicked out of the house with absolutely nothing at 18, went on a depression and fear fueled bender and landed in the hospital . absolutely sucked 0/10 bad time

so when he got outta this hospital he decided he ws gonna clean up his life by joining the military and try to be a good person. wild choice but yk its a military fps game what do you expect . he also became catholic again which i mean yeah sure fine i guess thats his choice. after a while (like a Long while) his unit’s chaplain arranged a meeting with the ex girlfriend and the child, and he was like “oh SHIT my actions have consequences this child almost didn’t exist” and now makes an effort to be in his son’s life even though the kid grew up calling someone else dad bc the gf got married at some point i think? idk regardless lion tries to be a good parent despite his past fuckups and i like that about him

but anyway so lion joins the gign, then gets recruited for cbrn which is like . anti-bioterrorism basically, where he meets doc and twitch (two other gign operators that r in the game) during an ebola outbreak. lion, being a quarantine specialist, decides to quarantine a bunch of infected people to prevent the spread of the virus. doc is NOT happy about this because hes hardcore humanitarian and wants to try to help them. because of lion’s shitty quarantine practices they wind up dying, and doc has blamed him ever since which is totally fuckin fair . they both had a lot of mean things to say to each other, namely that lion lacks empathy and that doc’s belief that People Should Not Die If It’s Preventable is a liability. the two have been actively hostile towards each other for a long time, but have reached a stable point in the past couple seasons. theyre both beginning to move on and work together to lead wolfguard, which is rainbow’s rescue unit essentially

so now with all the backstory shit out of the way, what i like about this wretched beast; he sucks, he fucked up a whole lot, but he’s trying so very hard to do better for the people he cares about and for himself. he’s confident and even cocky when it comes to his combat skills but he absolutely does not trust his civilian instincts because of the things he’s done in the past so he’s really, really bad at interacting with people . he tends to come off as an arrogant asshole (which is kind of true honestly) and has gotten into fights with so so many other members of rainbow because he’s just so full of fuckin attitude. he also canonically likes heavy metal and cats and is fascinated by virology and vector control :] and when he’s not doing stuff for team rainbow he tries to help his community by volunteering for various stuff

in conclusion; i love this wretched beast. he’s the reason i got into r6 and i rotate him in my brain every day because he is just Inch Resting to me. i could talk about my nighthaven lion thoughts BUT tahts not even canon adjacent that’s just me being insane so i will save that for another day . sorry for the 800 page essay i just fjskgkakkgks lion my beloved . i will leave you with this picture of him bc i like it :]

[100gayicons]

Roy Scherer, Jr. and Andrew Kelm had a lot in common. They had abusive fathers; their parents marriages ended in divorce; and they spent their formative years living with their mothers. After serving time in the military (Andrew in the Coast Guard, Roy in the Navy) they found their way to Hollywood.

They both became clients of Henry Willson, a talent agent who specialized in making young good looking men into movie stars. Willson always gave his male clients masculine and memorable stage names - Roy became Rock Hudson (and eventually a major star for Universal) and Andrew became Tab Hunter, a future Warner Brothers star. And Rock and Tab both had a secret that could destroy their careers - they were gay.

Tab’s mother was religious and she sent him and his brother to a catholic school. Athletic, Tab developed a love of figure skating, and competed in both singles and pairs. But it was his love of horses that eventually led to an acting career.

Tab was working at a Southern California stable when a crew arrived to take photos of actress Ann Blythe. Actor (later agent) Dick Clayton was on hand and noticed young Andrew and asked him if he ever considered being an actor. Boy, that sounds like a pickup line! A few years later, after Tab’s stint in the Coast Guard, Tab met Clayton again in New York and Clayton immediately began introducing him to people in show business.

That eventual led to a meeting with Henry Willson, an agent with a reputation for making young men into movie stars (among other things he made some of those men do).

Hunter progressed quickly at Warner. He had his first minor role in 1950 (The Lawless) and by 1954 he was the a leading man (Return to Treasure Island) with Linda Darnell as his love interest. Warner Brothers notice his potential in and offered him a contract. He had a hit with his next film too - “Battle Cry” about marines fighting in the Pacific.

But after 4 films with various studios, he became unhappy with Henry Willson and decided to change agents. That would have its consequences.

Meanwhile agent Henry Willson has a big problem. A scandal magazine threaten to publish an article revealing that his star client Rock Hudson was gay. Willson made a deal with the magazine - he would give them dirt on two other actors in exchange for burning the Hudson story. The first was Rory Calhoun who had an arrest record and spent time in a Juvenal prison. Calhoun’s on screen persona was that of a tough guy, so the article just help to prop up his image.

The other actor thrown under the bus was his former client Tab Hunter. In 1950 Hunter had attended a “pajama party for men only” that was raided by the police. Hunter was arrested (along with 20 other young men) and briefly detained. While this could have ended Hunter’s budding career - he was sparred. In fact, only a few months later he was named a promising young new comer in a national poll.

The studio would regularly send him on on public dates with his costars and fabricate sham resonances with rising young starlets.

Over the next few years, while continuing to star in hit films, Hunter experimented with singing and had a #1 record with “Young Love” in 1957. Based on its success, Warner Brothers actually creates a new division (Warner Bros Records) for him to release more albums. They even bought the rights to the Broadway musical “Damn Yankee” for him to star in the film version (1958).

But what if his love life?

In the 1950s Hunter met Olympic figure skater Ronnie Roberts and they started a long term relationship. Hunter, who always loved skating, sponsored Roberts training (athletes then performed under strict amateur guideline).

They spent spent as much time as possible together - once driving cross-country together so Robbiecould attend training in Lake Placid, NY. Hunter became friends with Roberts family too. But the skating world resented Hunter’s presence are events. And this began affecting Roberts scores. The two eventually parted but remain friends.

“I was infatuated with Ronnie.... To most folks, Ronnie and I were good buddies, sharing the ice. Few people considered what else we were sharing.”

Hunter next serious relationship was with fellow actor Anthony Perkins.

“I had a wonderful relationship with him,” Hunter said.

They met at the pool at the Chateau Marmont, and Hunter was immediately attracted to Perkins. The two went on double dates (the photos of which can easily be found on the internet). In them it’s clear the boys paid more attention to each other than the girls.

Venetia Stevenson, a young actress that the studio assigned as Hunter’s beard (fake girlfriend) thought Tab was more in love with Tony than Tony was with Tab. Hunter also felt betrayed when Perkins convinced his Paramount to buy a script for him, knowing that Hunter had already played the role on TV and working working to get Warner to buy the script as well. That was the beginning of the end of their relationship.

“You never really knew Tony 100 percent. There was always a secret side, and he was a bit of a game-player with people’s minds,” said Hunter.

Hunter said of his life in Hollywood, “(it) was difficult for me, because I was living two lives at that time. A private life of my own, which I never discussed, never talked about to anyone. And then my Hollywood life, which was just trying to learn my (craft). There was a lot written about my sexuality, and the press was pretty cruel.”

At this point Hunter was feeling unfulfilled with the other roles the studio offered to him. So by 1959, he bought out his contract with Warner Brothers. The consequences of going out on his own was that he didn’t have the power of the studio promoting him. The quality of his films diminished during the 1960s and 1970s.

But in 1989, Tab Hunter had an unexpected career resurgence. Alt director John Waters asked him to star in “Polyester” opposite the ultimate Drag Queen Divine. Hunter’s his agent tried to convince him not to take the role but he decided, “What have I got to lose?”

The film was such a hit that Hunter decided to produce another film himself, costarring Divine. That effort would proved another turning point in his life.

Waters could only afford Hunter for one week. “I’m sure it was the least Tab Hunter had ever been earned on a film, and it was the most I ever paid an actor,” said Waters. “Polyester” was a hit, reviving Hunter’s film career.

While meeting with studios to raise money for what would eventually be call “Lust in the Dust”, Hunter met Allan Glaser, young executive at Fox. Sparks flew and the two soon became partners. Glaser also took on the role as producer of the film.

Hunter and Glaser settle on a ranch in Southern California when Tab regularly enjoyed horse back riding. Although out to friends, Tab was a private man. So he didn’t come out to the public until 2005 when he published his memoir. Hunter and Glaser married in 2013. The two were together for 35 years until Tab’s death in 2018.

[imaginesandinserts]

Irreverent Pt. 47 - Seven Devils

Title: Irreverent Pt. 47 - Seven Devils

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: ~11K

Irreverent Series Masterlist

You'd just arrived at the airport when you got the call from Clyde informing you that there was a terror alert across the EU and flights were being grounded. He'd coordinate agents on the ground but there wasn't much you could do from the States, so you were off the hook until things got figured out.

Great, now what? *------------* Aaron walked towards the plane with the rest of the team, with Reid already spouting facts around unsubs who preferred to shoot their victims from a distance rather than up close. He climbs up the steps and turning, is greeted by you, seated in your usual chair. "Hey, what're you doing here?" He walks up towards you, the rest of the team following close behind, equally surprised to see you. "EU terror alert," you explain while he stashes his luggage away, nodding hello to everyone else. "Clyde said I'm free for the time being and I was already at the airport. Garcia read me in." "Well, it'll be good to have you, kid." Rossi takes a seat in the aisle across from you guys. "Seems like an all hands on deck sort of situation." Everyone settles in and you can't help but notice the small smile that seems to linger on Aaron ever since he saw you. The two of you had only had the past three days together and throughout that, you'd had a soccer match for Jack, a birthday party for one of his friends, and you'd spent Saturday night with the girls; needless to say, it had been tough to get time together for just the two of you. "Was Jack okay?" you ask, turning to Aaron after everyone had finished talking through some of the case details and started to build a preliminary profile on the Unsub. Aaron nods, but your question catches JJ's attention, who looks to you with her eyebrows raised, the puzzled expression on her face imploring you to explain. You're unable to help the smirk that plays at your lips as you do. "We had a - um - staff meeting this morning that Jack wasn't invited to. He wasn't too happy that the door was locked," you explain, biting your lip and barely stifling your giggles. "A staff meeting?" Emily raises her eyebrows at you and you can just imagine the dirty thoughts running through her mind along with the Wow Y/N only soccer moms call getting railed a staff meeting. You meet Aaron's eye and you can see the soft blush to his cheeks that only you would notice. "I simultaneously regret and appreciate my choice of words there," you murmur to him as he shakes his head in amused disapproval. Derek barks out a laugh in reaction to Emily. "Uh huh. Was it a successful meeting?" he asks, wagging his eyebrows at you, toeing the line at ribbing Aaron as well. "I think both parties were pleased with the outcome. At least according to my notes." You turned to look at Aaron, mirth flitting into your gaze. "Would you concur?" He has a small smirk on his face mirroring yours, no doubt thinking back to the fifteen minutes the two of you had caught together before you had to get ready to leave for the airport - once against the aforementioned locked bedroom door and a second in the shower, before you begged him to relent, otherwise you'd be late. He'd been intent on a third. "Some good points were made. However, we might have to do a follow up to ensure we're still aligned," he drawls, getting far too much enjoyment out of the effect his words and low voice would have on you. You lose it at that, unable to keep a straight face. Follow up indeed. "Gross. I feel like I just watched my parents flirting." JJ groans, pushing up from her seat to go rummage around for snacks in the back. She was due anytime now and would be gone on maternity leave starting the following week. She was already mostly out of the field, staying in the precinct and managing the team from there. You knew, that as a result of that, Aaron was actually out in the field a lot more because he trusted JJ to handle the emotions and politics of local officials far better than anyone else. "Morgan, could you check if we're stocked on the M4 ammunition?" Aaron switches gears towards preparing for the landing, a quick brush of his hand to your thigh in promise that there would indeed be a follow up to this morning's activities. Derek nods and gets up, checking on the rifles stock that was brought along. With an Unsub like this, the team would need to be equally equipped to handle any situations that might arise, especially in a sprawling Texas city where guns were aplenty. "Guys," Spencer pipes up, "I don't think I'm actually allowed to use those." He glances around at the rest of the team apprehensively, as Derek and Aaron share a calculated look at his admission. "You're not," they both tell him almost simultaneously, drawing a snort from both you and Emily while Rossi merely smiles and shakes his head, turning his head back to his notes. Reid looks offended and turns on you at that. "Are you certified to shoot those?" His tone implied that he highly doubted you. "I've been shooting since I was six years old," you inform him, a superior look on your face. "I actually set the Academy record for most weapons certifications earned by a trainee." Aaron presses his lips together to keep from smiling while Emily shakes her head with a laugh at you goading Reid. "I didn't know six year olds were allowed to handle guns." "If you're rich in Connecticut, you can do pretty much anything. Just look at the Kennedys." "Touché."

Spencer grumbles to himself a bit more, slouching into his chair. It was his one weak point and he was getting better at it, really. On pretty much everything else, you're sure he'd have you beat.

You turn towards the research you'd been conducting on your own case with Clyde, in your downtime. Things were starting to fit together in an unexpected manner, and you'd had to bend a few rules to start putting all the different pieces in, but you were finally making some headway. It would definitely be faster and easier if you could enlist Garcia's help or bounce ideas off of Aaron, but your hands were unfortunately tied due to the high level of clearance you'd had to obtain to work this case in the first place.

Aaron watches as your head is bent in concentration, his own focus flickering away from the case ahead. You'd only been home for three days but you'd mentioned that your assignment at last had an end in sight. He's hopeful that that means things will be calming down - the two of you would be around one another more again. While Jack had so far done a good job of keeping the secret, he also gave his father a very telling, excited look anytime he saw you, and Aaron could often see Jack's eyes going to your hand where he hoped a ring would soon sit.

*------------*

All of the bodies thus far had been found at the grounds of various places of worship around the city - a few Churches, a Temple, and a Mosque. It would appear most of the actual killings had happened at a different location and the bodies were then moved and left to be found the next morning by unsuspecting worshippers, children, and groundskeepers. The Unsub was an equal opportunity killer - no discrimination in the religious leanings of his victims.

So far the victimology was all over the board - a college student, a local politician, a priest, a housewife, and a video game developer were the five victims so far. It read like the beginnings of a bad joke. A rabbi, a priest, and a horse walk into a bar…

The Unsub had left the bodies of each victim at their chosen place of worship. That, in itself, felt highly personal so there was a chance that the Unsub personally knew each of their victims. This was supported by the methodology - killing the victims from afar was easier on this particular Unsub's constitution.

The team had been spitballing; attempting to establish a connection between the victims. Reid and JJ were working on the geographic profile. Well, Spencer was at least. JJ kept having to leave to go to the restroom every five minutes. In that moment, you definitely did not envy pregnant women. Bearing children wrecked one's body.

The obvious religious themes were all in scope. The theory at the forefront was that each of the victims was being punished for a perceived sin, and Garcia was doing a deeper dive into their finances and online history while the rest of you got to know the families and the victims personally to wrangle out the truth. This was the most difficult part usually - even if someone was an awful person whilst alive, most people became reluctant to speak ill of the dead.

Trusting JJ to handle the centralized headquarters that the team had set up, Aaron left with you to do one set of the interviews. He wanted to speak to the parishioners of the church where the priest had been found, his body jutting out of the confessional booth. You both noted that it was on the opposite side from where the priests would typically sit, symbolically speaking to the fact that the Unsub considered the priest to be a sinner.

"I mean, he's a priest in a Catholic church," you said as the two of you walked up the pathway to the entrance. "The obvious definitely comes to mind."

Aaron agrees with a grimace. Father Patrick had led a youth group and had been doing so for the past decade. There was a high chance the Unsub could be a current or prior victim of sexual assault at his hands. He could also be someone whom a potential victim had confided in, so your suspect list was pretty wide open for the time being.

As suspected, every conversation you had - with church docents and members alike - was highly complimentary to Father Patrick. He was good with the children, kind to the female staff, had a fairly middle ground interpretation of the Bible; an all-around pillar of the community.

"Hopefully Morgan and Prentiss have better luck."

You nod, buckling in your seatbelt and commandeering the music, electing to actually play the White Album for once, drawing a smile from Aaron. He pulls out of the parking space and heads back towards the precinct. You smile to yourself as Aaron's deep voice croons along to Dear Prudence, his fingers tapping along to the beat against the steering wheel while you look out the window at the twilight Texas sky.

*------------*

"So, the girl, Rachel - total know-it-all, not unlike someone else we know…"

Reid glares at Emily as she trails off with a smirk. Her and Derek had gone to do another set of the interviews at the local university and had talked to classmates and professors to learn more about the first victim.

"We all have our suspicions about Father Patrick, but nothing conclusive there. The Councilwoman was taking bribes to block the legislation around the city's free internet policy per Garcia's research. That leaves Mrs. Abad and Ryan Cohen, the designer. We can't tell what their secret might've been, besides some high balances on a credit card for Mrs. Abad."

The team nods at Hotch, confirming his summary of the case so far.

"JJ and I have narrowed down the field to three epicenters across the city." You're surprised that Spencer gave JJ any credit at all for the work they'd done together. JJ had confided in you upon your return, that she'd told Spencer she was going to the bathroom and had instead taken a twenty minute power nap in a supply closet. Her maternity leave could not start soon enough, and you're glad that she's handling this pregnancy in a much more relaxed manner than the first, allowing herself the time off properly.

"Based on the current cadence, we could have another victim in the next couple of days." Rossi looks around the room grimly. You're all well aware that the window to catch the Unsub before another victim materializes is closing quickly. It also usually tends to speed up once the team arrives on the scene. Makes Unsubs nervous. Eager to finish the job faster.

"Would you say Councilwoman Crane was guilty of the sin of greed?" Derek's brow is furrowed, the beginnings of a concrete thought evident in his question.

You nod, encouraging him to continue.

"Pride for the first victim, Rachel."

You agree again, but this time the rest of them are also following along.

"Seven Deadly Sins," Spencer surmises from Derek's trail of crumbs.

"What are all of them?" Emily asks, looking between Derek and Spencer.

Derek shifts from one foot to the other. "Pride, Greed," he lists off, counting with his thumb and index finger.

"Lust, Envy," Aaron supplies, tacking on to the end of Derek's sentence and prompting him to continue the count.

"Gluttony, Wrath, and Sloth," Spencer finishes, turning to write them all down in order on the whiteboard.

The team was finally making some headway.

You stand towards the back of the room looking at the victim board, arms crossed across your chest, leaning against the back wall. "So, let's assume its Lust for Father Patrick. The excessive shopping could be indicative of Envy from Mrs. Abad. You guys did say she lived in a posh neighborhood. Keeping Up With the Joneses lifestyle."

"That leaves Gluttony for Cohen. Kid was pudgy." Rossi had been the one to visit the Medical Examiner, so you all trusted his assessment there.

"They're all in order. Could it be that simple?" Aaron questions, leaned forward in his chair, looking at the board with each of the victims' names listed next to one of the sins.

You contemplate his question as does everyone else. Could it be that simple? An Unsub working down the list of deadly sins, picking out victims that aligned with each one. It would stand to reason, given the working profile - you'd all decided that the Unsub must have an Orthodox religious upbringing, in a militant household.

"Occam's Razor," you answer finally, meeting his eyes, a grim set to your face. This meant there were at least two more victims planned. "The simplest explanation is usually the right one."

*------------*

In the past couple of days, the team had narrowed down the scope of the case, having realized that the Unsub had met all of the victims through various volunteer activities. The working theory was that the Unsub had deemed the victims to all be hypocrites - claiming to be doing charitable works while sinning on the side.

Garcia had cross-referenced volunteer activities between the various places of worship and had come up with charities that all of them supported throughout the city. From there she'd catalogued registered volunteers across all of them, against activities each of the victims attended, however hadn't been able to narrow it down enough.

So, here you were manning the precinct late at night with Aaron, Derek, and Emily. The team was taking it in shifts to see if any missing persons calls came in, with victims fitting into either of the final two remaining sins - Wrath and Sloth. Unfortunately, there were simply far too many options for you to be able to determine who might become the unwitting victim in this Unsub's crusade.

It was calm and quiet, only the whirring of the fan and ambient sounds of the printer filling the silence. The four of you had already eaten and were all nursing hot cups of coffee in order to stay awake in the otherwise empty station. Public statements had been made and hotlines set up in case anyone could provide even a hint as to who the Unsub might be.

Emily was slouched over at the table, her arms cradling her head as another yawn escaped her. Bleary eyed, she looks at you and you weren't much better off, only barely keeping your eyes open, tilting back in your own chair in order to simulate the feeling of tipping over; effectively scaring yourself into staying awake. Derek was seated in front of the laptop, with Garcia on video. The two of them had been playing some game, however it appeared that she'd tired of it, being nearly two hours of a time difference ahead of the rest of you. So now, Derek was just watching her snooze, head bent down to her desk.

You look at Aaron, reading the notes Reid had left behind in order to try and make some sense of everything - uncover something that had slipped through the cracks. His brow is furrowed, head bent in concentration. He'd shed the jacket a while ago and despite the time of year, the Texan climate had forced him to roll up the sleeves of his shirt, exposing delicious swathes of forearm for your perusal. His hands - so large compared to your own, the veins prominent as he flips a page, muscle tensing and flexing as he does. You have to bite your lip to suppress a moan. It was the sleep deprivation. It was getting to you. Yeah, that's it. Not your big, strong boyfriend looking all serious and focused and handsome as he tries to hunt down a serial killer. Nope. Not at all…

You stand up suddenly as your chair tips forward, all four legs finally hitting the ground with a soft crash, cushioned by the carpeted flooring. Loud enough, however, to get Aaron's attention, as he turns to look up at you, the Are you alright? plain to read in his eyes.

"Need fresh air. Gonna go take a walk around the block or something," you explain, shaking your head of the cobwebs that had formed over the course of the past two hours, as the night had slipped into what could better be classified as early morning.

Aaron sets the papers down and turns to Morgan, indicating that he was going to join you. If you thought he was letting you go out alone, at this hour, with a killer on the loose, you were certifiable.

He watches as you slip on your blazer but he doesn't bother with his own. It would be quick and it wasn't too cold anymore. He follows you through the precinct and out the front doors, down the steps, matching your shorter pace easily - he's used to it by now.

"You sure you're alright?" he asks, once the two of you have reached the street. You merely hum tiredly and nod, so he grabs your hand in his, and walks in step with you, turning the corner past the precinct.

It is a little colder outside than it was inside, but his larger hand encompasses yours entirely, making you feel like a child swathed in his warm embrace. The cool air filters through your nostrils, reinvigorating your mind, giving it the jumpstart needed to function once more.

The two of you don't talk as you walk hand in hand down the sidewalk, him walking on the outside as he always does. Only the streetlamps are on, little pockets of light between stretches of darkness. Your mind is at peace. You aren't thinking about this case or your other one. You aren't thinking about any responsibilities and obligations. No worries. Just silent. It's so rare for your mind to be quiet that you relish in it. Allow yourself to bathe in the soundless symphony occupying the chasm in your brain.

As you approach the final turn that will lead you back to the entrance of the station, you find yourself watching Aaron again. He'd been so patient with the entire case with Interpol, despite it taking a toll on him. He'd been pulling double duty - doing all the things he does while also subbing in for everything you're unable to do at home. Him and Jack had sent you a cooking video of the two of them last time you'd been away, as Jack bossed Aaron around in the kitchen and helped him make your chocolate chip cookies for the bake sale at school. You'd sent Aaron detailed instructions, as he'd have to be the one to help Jack brown the butter and ensure he didn't burn himself. You knew he must have been frustrated with the extremely particular list of ingredients you'd sent him, down to the brand of salt flakes (the pièce de résistance of the entire experience)  that got sprinkled on top. Yet, he'd tackled it all with aplomb, not complaining to you even once. Jack had confided in you afterwards that Aaron had had to go to three different stores because the salt flakes were a rare item and not every branch of the nicer grocery store carried them. He'd done it though, and Jack had told you they'd turned out exactly like yours. Even Emily had texted you to validate this, asking if you'd come back without telling her when Aaron had brought a batch in for the team the following day.

Aaron feels a tug on his hand right before the turn. You'd stopped and his hand was still holding yours, forcing him to stop as well. You're stood in the shadows, right between two patches of light, your face immersed in darkness, and before he can say anything, he's lightly pushed against the brick wall exterior of the police station building. He lands with a soft oomph. You lean up against him, pressing yourself along the length of him and going up on your toes - utilizing the entirety of your ballet training - your lips meeting his in a heated kiss. He groans into your mouth, hands wrapping around your hips on instinct alone, tongue tracing your bottom lip before gently nipping at it, taking advantage of your resulting gasp to make his way into your mouth, licking every part of you available to him. He lifts you up, wrapping your legs around him and turns to hold you against the wall instead, pressing into the inviting warm juncture of your thighs.

"What brought this on?" he hums, moving from your lips to your jaw, down the column of your neck, his teeth grazing your collarbone.

You shiver at his efforts, a flip in your stomach as you feel the edge of his teeth, followed by the soft bite at the bend of your neck. Unable to answer him, lost in the feeling of his lips and teeth against your skin, your hands mussing through his hair, softly pulling and drawing vibrated groans from him.

At the absence of an answer, he pauses, looking up until he has your full attention, meeting your darkened eyes contrasting against your bashful expression. Your breath hitches when his eyes meet yours. "I love you," you muster with some concentration, soft and blissful, pulling his face back down to meet your sweetly puckered lips once more, drawing him into the cacophonous sea of feeling along with you.

By the time the two of you make it back to the conference room that Derek and Emily were sat in, Emily has stood up, leaning flat against the back wall. Derek has moved as well, taking residence in your old chair, leaning backwards much the same way you had.

"What about you guys?" he asks as you and Aaron enter.

You avoid Emily's knowing look. "What about us?"

"This whole thing - case - heaven and hell. You believe in it?"

"I went the agnostic route," Emily adds, stretching and arching her back like a cat. "If it exists, great. If not, no skin off my back."

Derek looks at the two of you expectantly.

Aaron nods quickly, returning to his old seat, feeling a lot lighter than before. He'd grown up Catholic - heaven and hell were ever-present concepts in his home.

You shrug, grabbing your lukewarm cup of coffee and dropping onto the couch. Your family had been more religious for the sake of appearances and connections rather than any true faith-inspired feelings.

Derek chuckles lightly. "Okay, so if they do exist," he says, turning back to Emily who had sunk down to the floor, seated with her legs stretched out in front of her. "Where you think you're headed?"

"Let me guess, you think you're going to heaven," Emily taunts, a mocking grin on her face.

"I do good, I am good," Derek replies assuredly. "Everything else is up to God. Right, Hotch?"

Aaron breathes out half a laugh along with a raise of his brows, which was about as much agreement Derek could hope for there.

"What about you Princess?"

You look at him, slight roll of your eyes to the ceiling. "Pretty sure patricide rules me out for a ticket to heaven," you respond, your words coated with sardonic dismissal.

Heaven. Hell. What did it even matter when you're dead?

It was a good thing that you hadn't looked at Aaron at that, because if you had, you would've noticed an entirely odd expression on his face at your words - he decides to pin his thoughts for a conversation at a later time. Once the case was wrapped up.

*------------*

"Anything you know could help us identify your husband's killer. Were you able to get a good look at him?"

JJ and Derek are running the interrogation on the latest victim's wife while the rest of the team watches from the other room. The body had been found at the edges of yet another church's grounds, marking it as the sixth victim. However, this time, a witness had emerged. The Unsub had taken Dylan Rogers from his front yard at gunpoint and Ashley Rogers, his wife, had seen it all happen from the living room before calling it in to the precinct.

"She seems tense - her shoulders have been hunched this entire time. Her facial expressions have varied from somber to haunted almost." Reid shifts closer as he profiles Mrs. Rogers, studying her body language.

"Morgan said it seemed like he might have hit her. He saw some bruising when she went to the house to pick her up," Prentiss adds, her voice grave.

Aaron acknowledges both Reid and Prentiss with a nod, his eyes fixed on the interaction taking place in the other room.

"Would fit into the umbrella of Wrath." Rossi mused from beside Aaron. All of you continue to watch while JJ brings in a sketch artist to help Mrs. Rogers construct a likeness of the Unsub.

"It must be killing her - if it's true. Having to help find his killer. Imagine the number of times she must've dreamt of hurting him in the same way he hurt her." All of you turn from Emily back to Mrs. Rogers, thinking on her statement.

"She could've left," Reid reasoned distractedly, his expression casually appraising Mrs. Rogers still for any signs that she might be concealing anything.

You find yourself bristling at that, and you've spoken out before you could stop yourself. "You know, it's funny how whenever we see cases like this. Cases where a man continuously beat up his partner, that's the question on everyone's lips. Why didn't she leave? Why did she stay?"

Reid turns to you, his mouth open and ready to contradict you or apologize, you're unsure, but you continue. "We never ask, why didn't he stop?"

Emily snorts from beside you, her lips pressed tightly together as you both watch Mrs. Rogers working with the sketch artist. She turns to Spencer after a look at you. "Because we accept men as monsters. That is their natural state. Those of them that didn't give in to it - we exalt them. We call them good men. Better men. Because they didn't beat us and hurt us and watch us bleed."

There's a tense silence but this is a sentiment that none of them are unfamiliar with. Reid should've known better.

You see Spencer shift uncomfortably, obviously apologetic for his earlier statement. You shake your head slightly and offer him a small smile, reassuring him that he's alright. This kind of stuff, just hits closer to home for some of you.

Your eyes meet Aaron's and he's looking at you with the question in his eyes that you'd expected as soon as you'd opened your mouth. You shake your head at him too, before turning your gaze back to the front.

Aaron watches you for a beat more, his eyes trained to the side of your face, your unwavering eyes set upon Ashley Rogers and your words swimming in his mind. His eyes had asked the question that he already knew the answer to unfortunately. Yet another reason for him to despise Matthew van Doren's entire existence.

"You know, there was a time I thought he was the love of my life." You all can hear Mrs. Rogers talking to JJ as the sketch artist wraps up. "We had that love - that wake up Sunday morning with pancakes and lose yourself in each other under white sheets kind of love. I don't know when it all went wrong."

*------------*

With the aid of Mrs. Rogers' description, Garcia was able to run a digitally enhanced version of the sketch against all known volunteers who had been at most of the events attended by each of the victims in the weeks prior to their deaths. After that, apprehending the Unsub was just a matter of tying together the identified man to each of the victims directly.

The team was able to prevent the final murder, and while that was of little solace to everyone, there was a tiny part of you that felt happy for Ashley Rogers in all of it. Sometimes the exit route we need arrives in the most unexpected of manners, and it is on us to recognize it and seize it for ourselves. You really hoped that Ashley would claim a new and better destiny for herself.

Since it was late, Aaron was unable to get the jet to fly back the same night, so the team was huddled into a corner of the hotel lounge with drinks in hand. While you're thrilled that you were able to prevent the final victim from being taken, this wasn't the best case the team had worked. You can see it in everyone's eyes, the way they hold their drinks, the hushed whispers contemplating if there was something that would've pointed to him sooner.

You feel bad that you aren't even really thinking about this case anymore. Your mind is preoccupied by the contents of the file you've left upstairs in the hotel room. You nod along to Emily and Derek's conversation, glass of wine held languidly in hand while you mentally collate the work you'd done so far. You know you're contributing nothing to the current conversation, and mercifully both of them have left you to your thoughts. Knowing there's not much chance of you being able to distract yourself tonight, you stand and bid good night to them before walking over to Aaron and Rossi, seated over a chessboard with Reid. They were playing two against one and Reid was still the favored choice to win.

"I'm going to head upstairs." You lean in and whisper softly to Aaron so as to not disrupt the game.

He turns his head to look up, brow furrowed ever so much. It wasn't like you to turn in early when there was a chance to socialize with the team. "I can come with." He grabs his drink as though to finish it, but you stop him with a hand to his shoulder.

"It's alright. Stay." You brush a kiss against his temple before nodding good night to the rest of them, intent on making some progress once you reached the room.

By the time Aaron gets upstairs, it is much later. Reid had won but Rossi had insisted on a rematch. Rossi just wanted to see Reid beat just once, however Aaron was wise to not bring attention to the fact that you've never played him. He knows that Reid has asked you, but you've made up excuses to not play. He'd always wondered about that, and having seen the chessboard in the New York apartment had made him realize that there was actually a good chance that you could beat Reid if you wanted to. Reid was a genius. That fact couldn't be denied. He knew everything about everything. You were different from that. Reid was driven by his pure drive for knowledge - that desire to understand the world around him better. You learned with more purpose, intention - with the need to add knowledge and skills to your toolkit, ready to whip out and be unleashed upon your opponents.

He enters the room just to see you exiting the bathroom, a robe wrapped around your body. He can't help but sigh internally at the sight. His soft, fluffy, perfect little personal teddy bear. He couldn't wait to just crawl into bed, already fearing that you'd be on another flight out the following day.

You acknowledge his presence with a smile, while toweling your hair dry.

"Who won?" There's a crooked smile on your face as you watch him take off his jacket and tie. As if you didn't already know who would win.

"Reid. Rossi wants another rematch on the plane." He shakes his head, walking further into the room. Closer to you.

You laugh softly as Aaron reaches you, looking exhausted from the long week and yet, he seems alright. All in all, this case hadn't been absolutely terrible. "Hasn't he learned his lesson by now?"

"He's a glutton for punishment." He steps forward, grabbing the towel from you and prompting you to turn around as he takes over drying your hair with soft tussles, allowing the cloth to absorb water all the way from root to end.

You hum at his actions, letting yourself to be lulled into the peaceful, floaty state that you always enter whenever he plays with your hair. It just felt too good.

"You should just give in and play him sometime." He knows he's pulling at that little thread there, curious as to how you'll react at him having deduced something you hadn't told him upfront.

You merely chuckle softly, seemingly unsurprised that he'd worked that out for himself. His profiling skills no longer surprise you much, especially when it comes to yourself. He could read you like none other. "We wouldn't want Spencer to cry, now would we?"

Aaron bites his lip, preventing a smile threatening to sneak out at that. It was nice knowing he'd been right about that. He'd have to make you play him at least. He needed to see how good you were for himself.

You turn around, halting his actions. You'd gotten a call from Clyde when you'd gotten upstairs and you were already set to fly out tomorrow on a red eye. You'd booked the ticket, making the necessary upgrades on your own dime.

"Tomorrow?" he guessed, noting the expression on your face when you looked up at him, drawing yourself up on your toes and wrapping your arms  around his neck, the towel slipping from his hands and onto the floor between your feet.

You nod with a sigh, before coaxing him down, and he's quick to meet your lips with his own, knowing the two of now only have tonight. Tomorrow would be spent on the plane and then you'd have to fly out before he'd get even another hour alone with you. His hands instinctively find your waist, drawing you in flush against him. He deepens the kiss when one of your hands moves from his neck to cup his cheeks, thumb brushing over the peaking stubble around his jaw. You hate leaving like this. You can't wait for it to be over. For there to be no more goodbyes layering his touch and yours.

Aaron hugs you closer, wrapping his arms around you fully, the plush robe giving him far more to grab on to. Your lips against his, moving softly, insistently. You break away, struggling to be on your toes for much longer, so he moves, pushing you up onto the desk and coming to stand between your legs as your lips find their place once more against his, this time hands working at the buttons to his shirt as well.

"Wanted to talk to you about something." He breaks away, allowing you to pepper kisses down his jaw and the column of his neck. If the two of you only had today, he didn't want to risk forgetting and having the issue go stale before bringing it up again. He can feel your mouth, sucking, teeth lightly grazing the skin at his collarbone, undoubtedly leaving marks for him to admire afterwards when you were gone. At your hum, he continues relying on your ability to multitask. "Did you mean it, when you said you aren't going to heaven?"

You pause, looking up at him curiously and being reminded of the question Derek had asked. You hadn't realized it had affected Aaron, and yet thinking back on it, of course it had. Your answer had been entirely flippant. He was so serious when it came to things like this. "Yes. I did." Your voice is measured as you answer him, eyeing him carefully to watch his reaction. Even still, his hands have managed past the tie on your robe and his hands are caressing the bare skin of your sides, drawing a soft sigh from your mouth at the sensation. "By any definition of heaven and God and the Bible, murder isn't exactly condoned."

Had this been a few months ago, Aaron knew that this would have been an entirely different conversation. He could appreciate how entirely blunt you're able to be about how you've framed this for yourself. He might not agree with it, but he can appreciate the honesty. "Bible also says an eye for an eye." He raises an eyebrow at you, indicating that he wasn't about to let this go. Not when it came to the matter of your immortal soul. This mattered to him.

A gasp escapes you as his hands travel up your sides more deliberately, causing shivers against your sensitive skin at the feel of his roughly calloused fingers skimming, exploring, claiming. That's what his touch always felt like. A claim.

You try to focus as you think of a response, hands resuming unbuttoning his shirt and undoing the buckle to his belt. You can see he's already hard and as your fingers ghost over the bulge, he exhales sharply, eyes focused on your hands.

Realizing he wasn't getting an answer from you immediately, he helps you out by undoing the button and lowering the zipper on his pants, taking them off as you watch. You're a little confused by the conversation taking place, but you also knew this going into a relationship with Aaron. Like it or not, he was religious. Your family simply hadn't been much. It wasn't the same religious orthodoxy that Aaron had grown up with, at the very least. He wasn't by any means stringent about it, but some beliefs were innate. Good people go to heaven. Bad people go to hell. As far as he was concerned, you were a good person.

"Heaven and hell - I didn't grow up with that. But that whole eye for an eye thing, I don't think that really applies when it comes to taking a life." You help him slip the shirt off of his shoulders as you speak, the material slipping and falling to the ground as well. Aaron actually undoes the tie to your robe this time, pushing the material off of you almost roughly, eager to expose skin that he couldn't wait to taste. His hands move up to cup your breasts, kneading the flesh - the air in the room and his attentions causing your nipples to pucker, teasing him. He's unable to resist bending down and taking one into his mouth, gently sucking as his fingers tweak the other into submission as well, drawing a keening sound from deep within you, distracting you from your train of thought as you're drenched in the warmth of his touch.

You're entirely bare before him as his mouth moves to the other nipple, hands traveling down, grazing over your stomach and down your thighs, causing them to tremble. He pushes your legs apart, letting go of the nipple, his mouth returning to yours with a renewed fervor. His fingers pick up the evidence of your arousal around them, and he caresses your folds, before entering you with two fingers, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing over it as his fingers scissor inside you, locating the spot that has you arching your back, moans escaping you into his mouth.

Aaron releases your mouth so that he can watch you. Your hands scramble for purchase, bunching into the robe beneath you that soaks up your juices as he continues to work you up. Higher and higher. Your breath panting, breasts thrust up as you can feel the orgasm threatening to overtake your body. It only takes another circular motion of his thumb and the ask to Let go by him, for you to go crashing under the waves, your walls pulsing around his fingers. He watches you fall apart, your arms going up to hug against your breasts as you arch and shake and moan for him, his name falling from your lips repeatedly as he continues his machinations against your sensitive bud, intent on drawing it out. He loves to just watch you like this. Begging him to keep going, your breathy voice urging him on, your gorgeous face, mouth falling open - all for him. His beautiful little princess, entirely at his mercy.

He kisses you again as you come down, your earlier conversation entirely wiped from your mind. But not his. Never his. Aaron could focus and keep track of things in amazing order. He hated that you thought you weren't destined for heaven. It shouldn't matter - such an abstract concept and who even knew, really. But in the off chance it did, he didn't want you to think you'd be excluded. You couldn't be.

Your jelly arms and legs wrap around him and he's already worked down his boxers, revealing his thick, hard cock, eager to be buried inside you. He gathers you up in his arms, pulling you to the edge of the desk, before lifting you up and moving the two of you to the bed, managing to drop you onto it sideways, before quickly climbing on top.

You move your hands to card through his hair, watching him, his lovely brown eyes looking down at you, causing a flurry of emotion in your stomach. He leans down and slots his lips against yours once more, allowing you to get lost in the feel of him. You release him with a gasp, finding it difficult to take in air, and he allows you to breathe as he moves and presses a kiss to your shoulder, entering you in one quick thrust. "Genesis 9:5 says, for your lifeblood, I will surely demand an accounting."

What? You couldn't believe him. He was quoting the fucking Bible while buried in you to the hilt.

"Aaron - "

You're cut off as he moves out, the tip of his cock rubbing against your clit, distractingly. Perfectly. Fuck.

He enters you again, harshly, his cock finding that spot inside you as he does. His voice deep and guttural, a groan falling from his mouth as he invades you fully once more. "From each man, I will demand an accounting for the life of his fellow man."

He was still doing it. How could he even remember to quote the Bible right then?! You couldn't even remember your own name.

You don't have the words as Aaron continues, pumping into you, his hand finding your clit to help you reach your peak faster. Neither one of you would last long. You're already a trembling, shuddering mess beneath him, back arched up, feet planted against the mattress for support, your hands traveling and touching any skin of his they could reach.

You can feel his breath hot against your ear, the weight of him on top of you as he ruts his hips against yours, and you can tell he's close. So very close. His hips stutter as your hands find their way into his hair, pulling softly, just enough. "Whoever sheds the blood of man, by man shall his blood be shed." He was intent on fucking the verse into you. You release a broken cry at the feel of him. At his words. The passionate, gravely quality of his voice. He finishes with a loud groan, spilling into you, his ministrations against your clit paying off, propelling you towards the precipice as well. Your walls squeeze his cock, pulsing, clenching at the feel of his release inside you. He groans again, dropping on top of you, his hand going down and wrapping your thigh around him, pushing himself further into you still.

He lays on you for a moment longer, the only sound in the room being your breath and thudding hearts, beating in sync.

You're entirely drowned in ecstasy, even as you try to grasp onto the threads of the conversation the two of you had been having. You run your fingers through his soft hair, brushing back the sweat from his forehead, not minding the weight of him on you. He was crushing you entirely and you wouldn't exchange that for anything. No death could be better. Sweeter.

He rolls off of you after a few more moments, dropping next to you on his back, his legs dangling off the side of the bed.

You breathe deeply, before flipping over to lay on your back. You can feel the evidence of both of your releases inside you, but you can't be too bothered to care right then. Your hazy mind has managed to remember the conversation, and you turn your head, tucking your arms underneath to support it as you watch Aaron. He's laid on his back, one arm under his head, eyes closed and chest rising and falling, slowly settling into a steady state.

"If I wasn't going to hell for the patricide already, I'm definitely going to hell now for finding that far too hot." Your voice comes out low and whiny, a near whisper being all you could manage.

Aaron releases a breath of a laugh before he turns to settle on his side, drawing his legs up, moving closer so he's right beside you. So you can feel his skin against yours.

You reach out, your hand cupping his face and he leans in all too willingly, kissing you softly, completely. As he pulls back, you can feel his eyes examining you - searching. Trying to figure out what exactly it is that had you so thoroughly convinced that you didn't belong in heaven. Because he knows you and while at the time killing your father had been awful, he knew that you believed it had been right. Otherwise you wouldn't have done it.

"Can we accept the premise that killing your father isn't a dealbreaker?" he asks cautiously, his hand reaches out, settling into the curve of your waist, fingers curling into the skin. "What is it really?"

You blink, moving into his embrace, hands fidgeting slightly. You're nervous and you're sure he can tell. However, you know you need to tell him. Tell someone. If anyone should know, it's him. You lick your lips and sigh, looking up into his darkened eyes. "You've met my father. If you had to profile him, how would you do it?" Your voice is quiet, timid, unsure.

Your question is met by some apprehension. Aaron isn't certain, however he hesitantly answers you. "Control freak. Narcissist with a God complex."

You nod at his blunt assessment. "Did you ever wonder why my father - why he let me get away with so much?"

He hadn't.

"I broke off an exceptionally advantageous engagement. He did nothing. I cashed out my trust fund and ran away - slutting it up - " He flinches. " - on the cover of every trashy editorial. Crickets. I joined the FBI and he tried to take me out for dinner. Does he seem like the kind of man that tolerates that kind of insubordination?"

Aaron realizes that he should've thought about these questions. He should've thought to protect you from this back then. It was a miss. Especially after finding out what he had about Julian's death. And yet, there had never been anything in your father's interactions with you to suggest that he would do anything to truly harm you. Despite your fear of him.

"Do you remember what you wrote - in my recommendation letter to McKinney?" you murmured, your face right against his. If he moved a millimeter closer you'd be able to feel your nose against his.

Aaron watches you, his brow furrowing, wondering where exactly this was headed. He nods. He remembers. Your skin under his hands is starting to develop goosebumps. Without a word, he grabs you, shifting and maneuvering so that the two of you are laid together, heads at the headboard finally. He pulls at the blankets, draping them over you both and draws you back against him.

You place a quick kiss to his chest in thanks, fingers brushing over the scars that have persisted. Over time, he's become a lot more comfortable having his shirt off around you. It's still not something he will do in public, but around you, he feels comfortable enough. After all, you'd seen them back when they had been much worse.

He nods at you to continue. He has a need to know now. He has to know.

"The night that Matthew proposed to me, Julian and I got into a huge fight," you confess, legs tangling with his as your fingers trace the mapping of lines down his chest and stomach. "He revealed to me that my father - that the proposal was orchestrated. That it was part of some deal between our fathers. That - ." Your voice breaks and Aaron is quick to run his hands soothingly down your back, whispering soft encouragement in your ears, his lips following your hairline. You sniffle and continue on. "He told me that our father gave me away. Without asking. Without talking to me about it. He sold me."

It's Aaron who is lost for words this time. Out of all things, this - this he could not possibly have prepared for. All things considered, you're holding up remarkably, while his mind reels, putting everything he knows about Matthew into context with this new piece of information. He's struck by a tornado of anger towards your father. How dare that man - that awful, cruel man, treat you like property? To be traded and sold at his whims as if you weren't a fully fledged human being of your own.

You find yourself rubbing your hands up and down Aaron's arms, knowing that he must be processing everything all at once. You've had nearly a decade to deal with it and it still feels overwhelming at times.

"I didn't want to believe it, but it made sense."

Aaron opens his mouth to speak - to say something helpful but no words come. You shake your head, reassuring him that it was alright. He needn't say anything.

"So, I woke him up. We talked. I told him I wasn't about to waste my life - being the perfect daughter and the perfect wife. I couldn't."

He nods. He expected nothing less. You weren't some trophy wife.

"Matthew didn't want me to work after we got married. But I wanted something to work towards. Something that would be mine.  It wasn't fair that just because Dominic was the eldest son - that he would get it all. Everything. The entire empire. It was the one thing Matthew could never deny me. He wouldn't have dared."

Aaron's eyes widen as the realization begins to sink in. He takes in your gaze - blazing with renewed fire and fury at the situation you'd been in. The fervor within to escape, be your own person within the confines of the life you were in.

"My father - he fought me on it. Because the thing is, sons inherit the earth. Sons and not daughters." You take a deep breath, watching Aaron who appears to have followed along marvelously, because you can tell that he knows exactly what you're trying to say now.

"I showed him, however -- " You nod your head shakily "-- how I had built connections with all the right people. How I was smarter, would work harder, be better than anyone else he could possibly hope for to fill his shoes."

"You'd take over." His voice is low and the words feel reluctant on his tongue. Resigned despite the truth of them.

You nod. There it was - it was finally out there. Your worst secret that no one else had ever known. This secret had gone to the grave with your father. You hadn't even told John, knowing how disappointed he would've been in you - especially so soon after Julian's passing.

Aaron looks at you, taking in the guilt behind your eyes, the fear at revealing this to him. He knows too, that you're right. That if you had applied yourself to that, even half as well as you did to your job, you would've done it brutally well.

"That's why you think you aren't going to heaven," he concludes, his hands still rubbing up and down your back. He can feel your heart beating rapidly against his chest. It wasn't killing your father. It was this. "Sweetheart, you didn't do it, though. You didn't."

"I would've," you argue. "If Uncle Robert hadn't told me, even with Julian dead, I would've. I signed up for all of it Aaron. He trained me. He groomed me. Those things that you wrote in your letter to McKinney - all about how I'm adept at reading people. Because I can manipulate anyone into doing anything I want. He taught me how to do that. That I have an aptitude for navigating politically nuanced situations - because he showed me how to get close to the people that really matter. That I am exceptional at tactical planning - because from that day onwards, he planned out my entire life. And I let him. I helped him. Everything I did, anyone I spoke to, was all part of it. Part of his plans. So when I left, he wasn't ready to let go. He wasn't ready to waste his investment in me." The words leave you like a storm - evidence in the case you'd been building against yourself, carved from marble and sitting heavy against your heart for the past decade. You hated how much of him you saw in yourself.

You're breathing really hard and there are tears clinging to your lashes as Aaron continues to hold you, pulling you in even closer, if that were possible. He couldn't even imagine how long you'd carried this with you. Nearly a decade of guilt and for what? For something you hadn't even carried through with.

"You didn't actually do it," he repeats himself, brushing his lips against your forehead, knowing that right then that's what you need. All the reassurance that he doesn't see you any differently. That he never could. Especially not for this.

"Aaron, I would've been someone the Bureau goes after. Someone you'd have gone after. But the difference is, I would've never been caught."

Again, he knows you're right. Aaron isn't even surprised really at your entire confession - it stood to reason that you'd want the keys to the kingdom. From what he knew of you and your siblings, you really would be the person who was most capable, despite the dubious nature of the job. He's not naïve enough to think you couldn't have done it if you wanted to. You would've been exceptional at it. But you didn't. Given the chance today, you wouldn't. For him, that's what mattered.

He brushes the hair out of your face tenderly, sweeping away all the wisps and baby hairs, holding your face in his hands. "You need to forgive yourself, Y/N. You need to realize that there is a difference between signing up for something and actually doing it. What you actually did, that's what matters. Regardless of the circumstances. That's what truly happened."

You're quiet, so he holds you. He can feel the tears trickling down your face, onto his chest as you bury your head into him once more.

It was an upheaval, telling him all of this. It's Aaron - and despite everything awful that you've revealed just then, he's being kind, compassionate, and understanding. You just told him that you'd essentially signed up to do every evil job known to mankind and he was comforting you. Making sure that you wouldn't beat yourself up. That you forgave yourself. He didn't even - it was as if it didn't even matter to him. How could it not, though? How could it not claw at him, being tangled up with someone he knows to be entrenched in evil?

"You are a good person, Y/N. A wonderful person. This - this one thing doesn't define you. Being good is a series of decisions and choices in that direction. One thing doesn't derail it entirely. That's what amends are for. What forgiveness is for. To show us that no matter what, we always have a chance." Aaron could only hope that you saw yourself the way he saw you. As someone who tried to be good. As someone who was good, through trying alone.

You want to believe him. You do. It sounds peaceful. But how do you know if you've made enough amends? How do you know if you've done enough?

He knows you're struggling to believe him. He wants to convince you, paint it into your skin, emblazon it onto your soul in a manner so unmistakable that you'd never question it again. You're a good person. He needs you to believe it. Desperately.

Aaron tilts your face up by your chin, his lips meeting yours intensely. "You are a wonderfully good person, Y/N" His whisper falls against your lips, forcing you to swallow in his words. Breathe them in. Taste them. Let them settle into your stomach.

He places another kiss to the turn of your neck, tongue peaking out to lick at mark he'd left earlier, soothing over it. "You're a hero. You save people." He will make you believe it.

You watch in awe as he shifts, placing another kiss to the swell of your breasts. "You take such good care of me and Jack." He will make you believe that you're the good he sees in life. Through all the horrors he sees day in and day out, he looks to you and he sees goodness and purity, laughter and joy.

You can feel the tears welling up again in your eyes, for an entirely different reason as you watch him. Watch this man, make his way down the length of your body, reminding you that you conquer monsters for a living. Remind you that you took down your father and in turn prevented him from doing more evil. Impress upon you the importance of everything you've accomplished since then - all the people you've saved, all the happiness you've brought, all the people you've loved.

You can't help but press yourself to him. Closer to him. Because his touch is the forgiveness you can never seem to give yourself. His touch is pure. His touch is good. It is divinity itself. Maybe if he touched you enough, it could make up for it all. Letting his essence cover up everything that came before.

Aaron draws up on his haunches, having just kissed your clit, causing your eyes to roll back into your head. You taste like what he imagines sunshine might taste like. He moves you up with him, into his lap and waits until you've met his mouth of your own volition, before pulling you down onto his cock, seating you fully against him.

You can taste yourself on his lips. You can feel him inside you so entirely, consumingly, fully. He clutches onto you, the drag of him inside you so powerful and potent, the bubbling euphoria encasing you. Your arms curl around his shoulders, fingers in his hair, as his wrap around your hips, helping you ride his cock exquisitely. Vastly, painstakingly slow.

Aaron watches you in his lap, taking him in - his. Mine. Mine. Mine. A chant on repeat in his brain as your wet, velvety walls grip him like a vice. Your beautiful pink lips parted ever so slightly, eyes half lidded. In his lap, against his body, taking his cock. This - this was goodness. You were the source of all pleasure, delight, and happiness that he feels. If that is not goodness, then what is? If the God he calls God didn't recognize you as such, then what kind of God was he? Because he would gladly worship at your altar instead, if need be.

His hands grip you excruciatingly tight against him, unwilling to leave even the semblance of room between the two of you. It was as though he began where you ended and you ended where he began. "I don't care if you believe you're going to heaven or not," he declares, watching you take him. "I'm going to believe it enough for the both of us."

Before you can say anything in response, he draws your attention downwards, forcing you to watch. Watch as he exits you, wet and shiny, drenched in your arousal. Watch as he brings you back down, entering you immeasurably slowly and causing you to clench and flutter around him. His.

You look back up, meeting his warm brown eyes, shining with love and compassion and the utmost respect. Everything that made you fall in love with this man. You watch as he pushes into you, moves you just so - so as to perfectly hit that spot inside you. You tilt your head back on a moan, your body shuddering and your back arching once more, pushing you closer and closer against him. When you return to face him, he looks at you. His eyes fixed on you. That look on his face, was nothing short of reverent.  

You come achingly fast, teeth sinking into his shoulder as you shudder around him, taking in his release. He continues through it, pushing his cum back into you in the process, keeping it there, mingling with both of your earlier release.

You're entirely weak as you sit in the cradle of his arms, balancing on his thighs. Your mind is far away and present at once. Present only in him - his touch, his feel, his lips, his words - surrounding you thoroughly.

You are both unhurried in your movements as you clean up together, no need or desire to speak further, content in the silence of one another.

Aaron cleans up the bed, making sure there are fresh sheets, as he watches your tired body put on the small slip you'd left out earlier. Your hair was wet again and he grabs a fresh towel, drying it once more as you lean against him, unable to stand on your own for much longer, your body still sore. He can see the marks he'd left behind blooming and he takes extra care as he urges you towards the freshly made bed. You slip in to your side as he lifts the duvet, quickly climbing in beside you and tucking the two of you into the covers - swaddling your body against his own. He places a gentle kiss to your lips, murmuring his love against them, the echo of his words reverberating against them. You fall asleep first, entirely spent, physically and emotionally. With any luck you'll enter a deep, dreamless sleep. He can hear your steady and even breaths paralleled with the slow rise and fall of your chest, persuading him to join you in slumber.

Even if you didn't go to heaven - if for some God forsaken reason you were denied entrance - he'd willingly, gladly, go to hell with you.

With that final thought, he gives in to the call of your warmth and the sound of your breaths, allowing himself to be drawn into sleep beside you.

[bean-na-farraige-agus-foraoise]

Druids ain’t shit and here’s why.

Straight from the Pond- here’s a lesson from your friendly neighborhood historian.

It’s a long post so the history lesson is under the cut. 

Druidic “history” (or pseudohistory rather) actually begins with early renaissance politics. 

Basically Italy is dominating politics and religion by being able to call back to an ancient history that led directly into the formation of the centralized Catholic church. Surprising nobody who's familiar with European history- the German states want in on that action but they don't really have that direct line linking them to antiquity beyond their conquering by Rome- so, like any good 15th century academics, they create that link by just making shit up. 

So they look back at ancient roman writings, and see mention of druids, and also realize that they actually don't know fuck all about them, there's no records of them beyond a few classical authors- and for the record, classical authors are NOTORIOUSLY unreliable, there are entire graduate level seminars dedicated to teaching people how to read through ancient Roman propaganda, almost every druid I have ever met has taken classical authors at face value, anyway I digress, they just start making up a history of the druids, German lands used to be populated by Celts, and they create these mystical druids who serve as the direct precursor to The Church in these areas, like they forge documents and everything so when Italy goes "oh yeah since when?" they have something to hold up as a "gotcha" - they fashion statues and hide them in crypts as further evidence. It’s wild. 

So, France sees that the German states are becoming more politically popular within the HRE (Holy Roman Empire) because of these druid stories, and so they go "Hey Celts used to live in France too... we should have druids"- and they create druid stories. Scotland at the time is very close with France politically and they go "Hey us too, we're still Celts,” and then it spreads to Wales, and then England. Ireland is mostly staying out of druid nonsense- like in this period of the OG pseudohistories Ireland is like "this is disgusting we don't want druids" so like all the writings in Ireland in this period on druids are like "yeah the Church HATES druids"

Things quiet down for a little bit, because the stories are established, the cards have been played, whatever, but then Neo-Classicism and the Enlightenment- and now suddenly it's cool to have ancient history again - but like... Britain has "we got conquered by Rome" or "hey a few centuries ago people were saying we had druids?”; so naturally the more nationalistic go with druids....which is how we get, Iolo Morganweg.  Iolo's real name is Edward Williams but he insisted on going by his "bardic name"- bc druids.  Williams was a Welsh antiquarian- who is in some scholastic circles considered the father of “modern” druidry.  Williams literally named his son Taliesin after the bardic poet behind the Poems of Taliesin which is frequently in association with the Mabinogi in Brythonic texts. To pull from the wiki on this asshole: 

[he made] claims that ancient Druidic tradition had survived the Roman conquest, the conversion of the populace to Christianity, the persecution of bards under King Edward I, and other adversities. His forgeries develop an elaborate mystical philosophy, which he claimed as a direct continuation of ancient Druidic practice. Williams's reportedly heavy use of laudanum may have been a contributing factor

Yeah.... just... yeah. So not only did he forge like hella documents, which today in the 21st century, over 100 years after he was revealed as a fraud, are still more popular than the originals- but he also is the reason that ogham is like that. Williams created a ‘bardic alphabet’ based on combining Scandinavian runes and extant ogham - we are still wading through his bullshit trying to fix ogham. 

And this brings us to the Celtic Twilight...... 

To quote @liminalblessings​, “And a bunch of noodle fuckers decide "hey, we didn't bastardize the Irish enough for the last however long.... We should do more of that."” But for those of you not familiar with the term, it's a nationalistic pan-Celtic movement that wanted to like, make the Celts in vogue again? but like their idea of the Celts as "noble savage” - because the modern era was scary. At this point, Pan-Celtic Nationalism is starting to rise as pushback against British colonialism in Celtic nations. Unfortunately it's heavily reliant on the Druid myth as like.... A foundational shared cultural history between the surviving Celtic nations. The point largely is, though, "look at us. We should all be sticking together because we're the same / cousins / brothers". Which leads to a L O T of Celtic culture from various countries kind of getting.... molded into one singular idea- which is USUALLY what we think of today when we think of Celts. Basically everything gets branded as Irish because the Irish were “pure” and a “separate racial identity” as opposed to the Scots and Welsh. It took that idea of a pan-Celtic singularity, and then went ham with it mostly on Irish pre-Christian stuff, and as it occurred not too long after Williams’ fuckery, it really cemented those forgeries and psuedohistories in the cultural memory. And Williams wasn’t exposed as a fraud until after the Celtic Twilight had died down.

Now... Yeats, we all know Yeats- some people recommend his writings for learning about the fairies. DO NOT LISTEN TO THOSE PEOPLE. Yeats makes up an entire tree calendar, and also files all Scottish fairy lore under the “Irish” tab because he’s part of the Celtic Twilight and didn’t you know that everything Celtic is actually Irish? Fuck this guy. #yeetyeats

Enter... Robert Graves- destroyer of histories and all around fuckwit. Graves maked up an ENTIRE religious notion around a mother goddess and shit. And like, the irony of that is the people he supposedly went to originally were like lol dude you're a fucking idiot none of this is real. But he published it anyways and of course it got taken seriously. And then there's a lot of reverse etymology at this point which is just.... really bad linguistics. And because of Graves’ white goddess + said bad linguistics by others, you get Danu.(Danu is a whole thing, please shoot me an ask if you want a post about all of that nonsense). 

So.... Gerald Gardener.... to quote @liminalblessings​ again- “didn’t have a direct role in druidism, except he kind of did.”  See, Gardner had a good friend who was hella interested in the Celtic twilight. Said friend was hella inspiried by Gardner's "recreation" of old British trad witch traditions... But he didn't jive with the old British trad witch traditions. HE jived with Irish Druidry. So while Gardner's doing HIS thing, his friend's doing the modern Druid thing- heavily drawing from Gardner's own work but "making it more historically Druid" Except, as you may have picked up- there is no such thing as “historically druid” that can be reconstructed. Basically he can only pull from Williams, but because he had issues with with the old 15th century on stuff, up to the Twilight era (despite those being his sources) so he tries to distance himself from the earlier movements and leans hella heavy into Gardner's work as a result. Which is, if you've ever wondered, why Wicca and Druidry have such incredibly similar ritual structures and beliefs.

SO, this guy starts the Druid Order, decides that he’s gonna like pull his teachings from Williams- but he's also gonna say that Williams has nothing to do with his druidry because y'know, Williams has relatively recently been revealed as a fraud. This guy goes through the grueling process of ripping off his best bud gardner founding Druidry, right. So The Druid Order has this rebranding in 1951, that lauds the “history of the druids” as written by Williams but simultaneously rejects Williams saying “yeah we have nothing whatsoever to do with that guy.” Mix into this narrative, Gardener’s “burning times” bullshit, and now not only do we have mythical pseudohistorical druids, but a rewrite of Williams’ “the druids survived conversion” which then turned into - “The druids were heavily persecuted by the church and survived a horrible burning times but despite this there’s a tradition of continuous druidic belief.” Here begins the bullshit known as “vestiges of pagan thought”- which took actual historians not even a decade to disprove, and yet still circulates in pagan circles, because nobody picks up a fucking book.  Theoretical Folkloric archaeology became very popular at this time, which postulates (incorrectly) that all folk traditions and folklore absolutely stems from Pagan times and is 100% the Christianization of pagan practices and thoughts- which is not at all true. (Not-so-friendly reminder that Eostre? DOESN’T FUCKING EXIST. STOP FALLING FOR A JOKE MADE BY A MONK)

Td;lr so far- the druids went from 

the Catholic clergy before the Catholics existed 

to 

a religious group that survived conversion

to

druids survived an intense and violent persecution 

And now? In this our 21st century? 

Well.... druidic organizations today tend to still push these ahistorical narratives, that buy into the pagan persecution complex.... and several of these organizations also have known racists and terfs on their recommended reading lists. And while some organizations have made attempts to become more historically accurate- but the end result is usually.... bad. It tends to result in them using a source from like 1960 that’s been disproven 1000 times since by other historians to go “look a historian agrees with us!” rather than like... keep up with current research trends and academic standards. Druids also tend to be hostile to the syncretism of the Irish church which is just..... so fucking dumb. Don’t worship gaelic deities if you can’t accept that our lore are Christian texts about pagan beliefs. 

So yeah..... druids ain’t shit and I can prove it historically. I am also more than willing to send anyone links to full length books on the history of druids if you want to learn more. 

[praphit]

Godzilla vs Kong: A Good Christian Film

It was Easter weekend, so I had wanted to check out a good Christian film. There is some new hotness out there called "A Week Away".

It's a musical, about a troubled teen, who breaks the law; his options are then to either go to juvie or go to a Christian camp. Obviously, this teen would be white:) It's a spellbinding tale about right and wrong, about Jesus, and from the looks of the poster, it's also about some Christian booty - and the power thereof to save this young man's soul.

I was all set to watch it, but somehow "Godzilla vs Kong" ended up on my screen instead. 

Weird, right??

But, I can find Jesus in any movie. I was sure I could find Him in this movie too, so I let this weird phenomenon take me:)

The trailer of G vs K had me hyped!

Godzilla and Kong, going WWE in various cities as their ring. I'm sold!

Then, they said "and here's the cast!" I really didn't care about the cast. I mean...  let's say that a young Mike Tyson, time travels to 2021 and says he wants to fight Conor McGregor. 

Young Time Traveling Mike Tyson vs McGregor??!! Are you kidding me??!! The world would literally stop as these two fought (aka Tyson murdering McGregor in the ring). 

And then, the promoters spent all their time hyping Mike and Conor's training staff, and the ref, and the people calling the fight, and why these two are fighting - WHO CARES?! Some fights don't require much promo.

Unless they're going to interview Kong and Godzilla (and how great would that have been??), idc.

But, this movie sure does, so let's go through them, briefly:

Rebecca Hall - 

 I love her! I don't care about her in this movie, but I love her. She is the top smarty-pants scientist who's out there trying to manage this big thing(Kong). She's kinda like Dr. Fauci.

There's a cute,little deaf kid who everyone tells me is special. 

I'm not going to make fun of this character, though I'd really like to, because she does some silly things. But, what kind of asshole makes fun of a cute, little deaf kid??

Alex Skarsgard -

He's eye-candy. Fun Fact: he learned sign language, so he could better communicate with Kaylee Hottle (cute, little deaf kid - who in real life, is a cute, little deaf kid). That's awesome! - he's still simply eye-candy.

Eiza Gonzalez - 

They needed a Hispanic person on the team.

Millie Bobby Brown - 

Her character is annoying, boring, and disrespectful to her dad (a triple threat). She kept referencing the last Godzilla movie (which in it, apparently, her and her dad had issues), as if anyone watched/remembers that movie.

Annnnnd there's a crazy black guy in this

 - he's kinda like Alex Jones.

More interested now? Nah, me either.

Can we please get to the fight now?!

Nope, gotta talk about "the why?" first: 

You see...  

...

Godzilla... um... see, there's some sort of energy that... we need, cuz ya gotta have energy, right?? So, Kong... he... *sigh* damn. He's tracking the energy, but Godzilla is big like Kong, so... there was a war a long ago? Some rich dude is building some THING... there's a planet and a tunnel... and Kong has axe. Boom! PLOT! Kong works with the humans a lot here, which doesn't make much sense. It seems to me that the humans are doing just as much damage to him as Godzilla. Again, I don't care. Just say that Godzilla said Kong's mama is fat and ain't got no teeth, and that would have been enough for me.

An axe though??? What the hell??

JUST FIGHT!

When they finally do fight, it's very cool!

They fight in the water. 

There's an epic battle at the end on some surreal planet full of butt eaters. Not joking, there's a scene where some creature swoops down and starts eating some dude's butt. I hope we learn more about Butteater Planet some day.

Like I said, Kong has an axe (and it's magical... yep) 

And there's some Mortal Kombat-type action that goes on as well.

I loved the fighting, but it was only about 7-10 mins of the movie (and I'm probably being generous). The other hour and fifty minutes are about the cast and "the plot". It's called Godzilla vs Kong, dammit! That's all I need! It's the only reason I'm there! It's the only reason I didn't watch a privileged white boy sing songs about how he found love (in his loins) at a Christian Camp!

I recommend fast-forwarding  through to the fights. 

Better yet, just find the fights on Youtube. Trust me, the rest of the movie doesn't matter. The fights are dope, 

but not enough in comparison to all of the bullshit surrounding them.

I would have rather have had 30 mins of fighting, maybe a couple of breaks for them to sit down, drink some water, and get coached up... maybe have some comedians commentate (Chappelle and Burr, maybe), and right back to it. If they do this again, tell the actors to get out of the way!

Grade: D-

I think I found the Jesus in this though:

Many pay attention to church twice a year. A lot of long drawn-out services. BUT, you can skip around, to get to the good stuff if you'd like.

If you want the gospel - BOOM John 3:16 - now you don't even need to sit through the service (and what makes a long service longer? - watching it online as many did to escape The Ronas)

If you want your shot of religion, so as to not feel guilty until Christmas, then skip the Catholic services, skip the "Black churches" , cuz if you don't, you'll be streaming that service all day and all night. Find that little church, who doesn't have a staff or musicians yet, their tech might not even work right for the live broadcast, the feed could go out on you, but hey... it still counts for that Easter credit.

My point is, Jesus doesn't want you to waste your time, so don't watch this movie. Amen?

Amen.

[gubes-sweaters]

Mind, Body, and Soul

Authors Note: This is a Spencer Reid AU inspired by @subspencer​ who started the concept of this AU. This is their original idea btw their blog has top tier plug spence content it’s just *chefs kiss*. This is an AU where he went through school at a normal pace instead of graduating at twelve years old. For a little backstory, his childhood is very similar but instead, he became a plug in high school. He started using and selling because he got bored with school work easily since he’s a genius but no one was in his life to encourage him to excel in school. He also became a plug to help with his mom’s medical bills.

Content Warning: Implied drug use(weed/cocaine), Drinking, Swearing, and implied smut.

Word Count: 2.5K

Chapter 1: Silver Rings and Hand Tattoos

I’m not really a person who enjoys going to parties which is odd because I’m a college student. Most of my peers spend their free time getting high and drinking like fish. I guess you could say I’ve lived a pretty sheltered life because I grew up in the upper-middle-class suburbs and I went to a catholic school for my entire life. Neither of my parents are Catholic or even super religious for that matter, but they wanted me to have a “structured school experience” or whatever that means. I also was handed basically whatever I wanted on a silver platter. My parents separated when I was only two years old because my mom was tired of my dad always being gone for work. So I spent most of my life with my mom who coddled me. Being the sheltered kid I was I never went to parties or snuck out and my catholic school was an all-girls school so my experience with guys is very limited. I’m only at this party for one reason Penelope Garcia.

It all started when I began volunteering at the local animal humane society. That’s where I met Penelope Garcia. At first glance, you would think she was nothing short of the purest little cinnamon roll but looks can be very deceiving. She and I became close instantly, and we hung out whenever I wasn’t at school or working. The first time we hung out the topic of jobs came up and I told her that I’m a college student and I work at a comic book shop for a little extra cash even though I didn't need it because whatever my scholarship didn’t cover my dad insisted on paying for including my apartment because I didn’t want to live in a cramped dorm with three other girls. I think he thinks it makes up for all of the lost time during my childhood at least he’s trying though. When I asked her what she did for a living she started to giggle. After her giggle fit, she told me she was a hacker and a weed dealer.

After two years of knowing Penelope, she finally convinced me to go to and I quote “a little get together with a couple of friends” which actually looks a little more like a frat party to me. Either way, I decided why not because I’m going into my junior year in college, yet I only have three friends one being Penelope and the other two are my friends from my childhood. As I’m walking down the hallway of Penelope’s apartment building I can smell weed smoke and I can hear music blaring from here. I’m surprised she hasn’t gotten a noise complaint yet. It’s probably because she sells to a lot of her neighbors, so they put up with it. As I open the door this “little get together” is looking really intimidating. People are packed all in the apartment and there’s very little space to move around. I decided it’s probably best to try and find Penelope. I spot her across the room, but it’s kind of hard not to spot her with the glitter on her eyes and the flashy jewelry she’s wearing. It makes me giggle because I remember all of the times she's spilled various tubs of glitter all over her apartment and now you can’t leave her apartment without a little piece of glitter somewhere on you. 

I try to squeeze my way past all of the people in attempts to get near Penelope. I know she can’t hear me between the music that’s blasting and all of the people attempting to talk over the music so calling out for her is useless. As I make my way over to Penelope I spot two people making out on the couch which looks more like they’re trying to eat each other’s faces. Seriously the guy was gripping her hair like his life depended on it. I couldn’t see either of their faces but I spotted a spider web tattoo on the corner of his hand. I quickly look away because I realized I was looking for too long and it was starting to get creepy. I squeeze past the rest of the people and finally make my way over to Penelope and I grab onto her arm and nearly giver her a heart attack.

“Penelope what the hell happened to a little get together!” I ask her with a terrified look on my face.

“Oh finally you’re here I want you to meet a couple of people!” she squeaked out before grabbing my arm and beginning to pull me into the sea of people.

“Don’t avoid the question pen.” I say as I plant my foot in attempts to stop her from pulling me.

I didn’t work very well because she kept dragging me.

“I knew you wouldn’t show up if I told you how many people are here and I wanted you to have a good time sooooo, I figured telling a little white lie would be for the better.” She said while dragging me towards the couch where the two people with their tongues down each other’s throats were. I wonder where they snuck off to or if they just decided to call it a night and leave. I contemplate Penelope’s words and sigh because I know she’s right and I should learn to relax for once. 

“Sit here and I’ll get you something to drink.” She says before making her way through the sea of people once again.

I just sit on the couch very awkwardly for a couple of minutes with my hands folded in my lap wondering where Penelope is. I decide to pull out my phone because I’m too awkward to start a conversation with anyone. About half an hour later I take a glance over my phone when I see a figure walking towards me. I thought it must have been Penelope, so I look up even more and put my phone down. It’s just the girl from earlier but now she looks different because she has her mascara running down her face, she's missing a fake eyelash, her hair and clothes are messed up, she keeps sniffing, and now that she is facing me I can see that see her hair is split dyed with one side being black and the other being a bright red color. 

“Excuse me I’m sorry my purse is right there can you hand it to me please.” she says as she points to a cute black bag with bat wings on it.

“Uh, yeah here you go.” I say as I reach down and hand it to her.

“Thanks your skirt is so pretty by the way.” She says in a baby-talk voice while she reaches down and pats my head like a puppy. As she bends down slightly to pat my head I can see that her pupils are the size of saucers that explains a lot.

She proceeds to walk away without another word like that didn’t just happen. I’m left sitting there on the couch more confused than ever. I try to contain an awkward chuckle because I don’t want the people near me to think I’ve lost my mind. About five minutes later I figure Penelope must've gotten busy or distracted this is her party after all and it would be rude of me to expect her to be up my ass all night. So I stand up and flatten my pleated mini skirt then I make my way through the people who are packed together like sardines. I didn’t want to seem like a buzzkill or a priss, so I decided to try and socialize a bit. I figured I could make my way into whatever conversation Penelope was in so I wasn’t stealing her away and it would be easier to talk to new people if I had a friend there. As I make my way across the room once again I spot Penelope talking to a lanky guy that is way taller than me. As he has his back to me Penelope must’ve seen me because she waved at me and beckoned me over with one finger in a flirty way. That’s just who Penelope was she jokingly flirted with all of her friends. I’m so used to it by now that it’s just another thing about her that I love. I giggle and pick up my pace as the guy turns his head slightly to see who she was waving to. As I see his side profile I think he looks familiar but I figured it was the multi-colored lighting throughout the apartment and my mind was playing tricks on me. 

“Hey (y/n) I want you to meet a good friend of mine this is Spencer.” She says while not being able to get a word out without giggling. She must’ve smoked because she's always kind of giggly but now she can’t control herself. 

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you.” I say while giggling because of Penelope’s contagious laugh and I reach out my hand to shake his hand.

“Sorry I don’t shake hands it’s a germ thing.” He says while shifting his weight and stuffing his hands in his pockets. Of course, I had to go and make the situation awkward but at the same time how was I supposed to know. 

After the first couple of minutes, it wasn’t as awkward anymore. I found out he’s twenty-two, and he’s from Las Vegas but moved out here for college four years ago. I’m not sure why he choose to move across the country but I don’t really give it a second thought. I also noticed he didn’t talk about his childhood, his job, or anything really personal. We probably talked for about two or three hours. I didn’t even realize how many people left but gradually people would come up to Penelope and say bye. 

“Well my lovelies why don’t we turn the music down and switch on all of the normal lights, and we can all talk in the living room!” She says while sitting her cup down. 

I think she's absolutely out of her mind with all of the people here and as I go to point it out I turn my head to see that there are only six other people here now other than me, Penelope, and Spencer. Those other six people are already talking in her living room so Spencer walks over to talk to them. Penelope and I turn the music down low but still loud enough to barely hear over the people talking. After that, we turn all of the multi-colored lights off and flip on the regular lights.

Penelope takes a seat next to a pretty girl named Cat on the loveseat near her couch. Cat has shoulder-length dark brown hair, brown eyes, and a really pretty smile. When she introduces herself to me she’s nice, but she’s also very sarcastic. You can tell by the way Spencer shifted his eyes towards her when she and I were talking and how he instinctively turned away from her that they have some sort of history. The only seat left is in between Spencer and the arm of the couch. Three other people were already on the couch so there wasn’t much room. Spencer’s thigh was resting against mine in attempts to turn away slightly from Cat. I finally get a good look at him with normal lighting. He looks like he hasn't slept for a week but it suits him. He has kind hazel eyes and a really pretty mouth. I stop myself from staring because I don’t know him at all and I defiantly don’t want him to think I’m a creep.

Everybody was kind of just doing their own thing. People were either talking or on their phones. After a while, Spencer gently puts his hand right above my knee while I was just scrolling on my phone to avoid awkward small talk. I can feel the cold metal of his rings on my thigh and now I can feel his gaze on me. He lets out a little chuckle and rubs his thumb back and forth on my thigh because he can feel the goosebumps on my leg. I look down at my leg and I see a very familiar spider web tattoo. I instantly tense up because I remember what I saw on the couch and I remember what the girl looked like when she came back from wherever they disappeared off to. He removes his hand really quickly when he feels my body tense.

“Hey, are you okay? I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable I’m really sorry.” He begins to apologize.

“No no no you didn't do anything wrong. I… I was just thinking about something I have to do tomorrow and how I’m going to have to get up early. You’re okay you didn’t do anything wrong I promise.” I only half-lie really because he wasn't making me uncomfortable quite the opposite actually. My body didn’t tense because I was uncomfortable it was a reaction to the change in his demeanor. The guy on the couch before seems to be a completely different guy on the couch sitting right next to me. 

“You promise?” He asks me still clearly not believing my bullshit excuse.

“Promise.” I say turning my phone off and looking him right in the eyes. Wow, I don’t think I’ve noticed how pretty his eyes are. No. Nope. Don’t do this to yourself don’t be stupid. I try to avoid his gaze and put up walls. At the same time, he puts his hand back on my thigh but a little higher than last time and puts my chin between his thumb and forefinger. I feel myself leaning in towards him and my eyes flutter shut. For a moment I forget that we’re surrounded by other people and I forget where I’m at even. All of a sudden Penelope (clearly unaware of what she just interrupted) claps her hands so loudly that it alerts me and Spencer, and we separate before we kiss, but he doesn't remove his hand from my thigh. 

“Okay, my fine furry friends why don’t we play a drinking game. Let’s not let the fun die yet how about a game of never have I ever?” Penelope says after clapping her hands. Wow, thanks for cockblocking me Pen. Well, maybe not because that same hand that was just above my knee before has now made its way right below the hem of my skirt. This is going to be interesting. 

[queenlua]

You're a druid and an ex-evangelical, right? What does being a druid mean to you? How did you get from evangelicalism to where you are now? And of course feel free to ignore this if it's nosy. (sincerely, a Christian who wants to leave but who doesn't know what to do)

this is going to make me sound ignorant as hell, lol, but i'm happy to share

under a cut because this got very long, sorry, lol.

my personal progression was: "vaguely christian -> VERY christian -> christian agnostic -> agnostic/atheist -> agnostic/druid -> some sorta druid-neopagan-animist thing."  i guess i'll just go through what made me switch between each of those, and close out with some high-level thoughts that may be helpful for you?

okay, so when i was

VAGUELY CHRISTIAN,

i went to Sunday school every week because That's What You Do, and because my whole hometown was very southern Baptist, i never questioned the veracity of its teachings much... until they ran a whole weekly series on "why [x] is wrong," where [x] is some other group

e.g., we had a week on why Mormons are wrong, and i didn't bat an eye because i hadn't even known Mormons existed until that moment

then we had a week on why Muslims are wrong, and that... bothered me, because i had a friend who was Muslim, and she was just objectively a better person than me, and i was like "any universe where she goes to hell and i don't seems really fucked up"

then we had a week on why EVOLUTION was wrong, and that just absolutely threw me, because while i hadn't thought about evolution much (i think i was in fourth grade or so), it seemed common-sense? scientists thought highly of it? "adaptation over time" just seems logical?

so i went to the public library every day after school for like a week, read some Darwin and some science books, and came back to my Sunday school teacher with, like, an itemized list of objections to the whole "evolution is wrong" thing.  and he came up with some standard Answers In Genesis rebuttals, and i did more research and came back the next week with more science, and we repeated this a few times until he was like "lua, you just gotta take some things on faith"

which.  lmao.  full existential crisis time, because no matter how hard i thought, i couldn't *not* believe in the science, but i also didn't want to go to hell, so i was like "maybe if i believe SUPER HARD i will SOMEDAY be able to unbelieve the condemn-me-to-hell bits"

so i decided to become

VERY CHRISTIAN

and my frantic googling for shit like "proof of god" and "god and evolution" *eventually* broke me out of the Answers In Genesis circles of the internet, and into some decent Christian apologia, like, think First Things and various Catholic bloggers.  and there, i found some way to square my gut sense that evolution was right, with a spiritual worldview.

like, i remember finding some blogger who said:

"young earth creationists get tripped up when they try to explain stars that are millions of light-years away, and end up basically arguing that God's tricking us somehow, and—no!  my God lets you believe in the evidence of your eyes, my God does not demand that you make yourself ignorant or stupid, my God expects you to use your brain"

and i just started crying at my computer, because no one had ever said "using your brain is Good and part of God's will," i was like *finally* here's someone who won't tell me i'm going to hell for just *thinking* about things

(st. augustine does a much better riff on a similar theme, fwiw, but i only found him later)

still, it was an uneasy fit, because, the more i learned and read about world history, the more it seemed... weird... that the One And Singular Path To Salvation was... the successor to some niche desert cult... which didn't even occur at the *beginning* of written history, like, it was all predated by that whole Mithraism thing, etc... and like, sure, i could trot out all the standard theological talking points for why Actually This Makes Perfect Sense, but gut-level-wise, the aesthetics just seemed kinda dumb!  and no level of talking myself out of it made that feeling go away!

so at this point i started referring to myself as a

CHRISTIAN AGNOSTIC

i mean, not aloud.  i still lived in southernbaptistopia and i didn't want, like, my hair stylist to tell me i was a horrible person.  but in my *head* i called myself Christian agnostic and it felt right.

and i started church-hopping, which honestly was really fun, would recommend to anyone at any point.  i visited the fire-and-brimstone baptist church, the methodist church, the episcopalians, the universal unitarians, etc.

unfortunately, while this gave me *some* new perspectives, each of the places either had the same shitty theology as my old megachurch (i remember the *acute* sense of despair i felt when i was starting to jive with a methodist church... only for the dumbass youth minister to start going on about evolution), or, they just lacked any sense of the *sacred*.  like, the Church of Christ churches, with their a capella services, *definitely* had it; i felt more God there in one service than i did in a lifetime of shitty Christian rock at the megachurch.  but their beliefs were even *more* batshit, so.  big L on that one.

having failed to find a satisfactory church, i was basically

AGNOSTIC/ATHEIST

by the time i went to college, but honestly pretty unhappy about it; while it was harder than ever for me to actually *connect* with the divine, i didn't like thinking that my previous experiences of the divine were total lies.  because my shitty evangelical church, for all its faults, could not *completely* sabotage the sense of God's presence.  there were real moments in that church where i do believe i experienced something divine.  mostly mediated by one particular youth minister, who in hindsight was the only spiritual teacher in that church who didn't seem a bit rotten inside, but!  it was something!

so when i happened upon a bunch of writings on the now-defunct shii.org (that's the bit that makes me look WILDLY ignorant, lol), i was utterly captivated.

said author was a previous archdruid of the Reformed Druids of North America, an organization that was formed in the 1960s to troll the administration of Carleton College (there was a religious-service-attendance requirement; they made their own religion; their religion had whiskey and #chilltimes for its services).  however, this shii.org dude seemed to take it pretty seriously.  he was studying history of religion and blogged a lot about his studies, both academic and otherwise.  while RDNA had started out as a troll, that didn't mean they hadn't *discovered* something real in the process, he said.

this, already, was going to be innately appealing to me; i've got a soft spot for wow-we-were-doing-this-ironically-but-now-it's-kinda-real? stuff in general.

in particular, shii.org’s discussions on the separation of ritual from belief was really interesting to me: most religions/spiritualities have *both*, but like, you can do a ritual without having the Exact Right Beliefs (if there even is such a thing!), and it can still be useful to you, it can have real power.  (he had a really lovely essay, speculating on the origins of religion as just a form of art, but that essay is now lost to the sands of time, alas.)

(note that i wouldn't really recommend seeking out *recent* writing by the shii.org guy; he kinda went full tedious neoreactionary-blowhard-who-reads-a-lot-of-Spengler at some point?  sigh.)

the shii.org guy led me to checking out a bunch of books on the history of neopaganism & also books by scholars of religion in general, and the more i read, the more excited i became.  and i started doing little ritual/meditation stuff here and there.

then i was fortunate enough to attend some events with Earthspirit (this was when i lived in Boston), which cemented my hippie dalliances into something more real.  the folks there, being from Boston, were all ridiculously overeducated (a sensibility that appeals to me), but also, being the kind of folks who drive out to a mountain in the middle of nowhere for a spiritual retreat, they tolerated a full range of oddities (everyone from aging-70s-feminist-wiccans to living-on-a-farm-with-your-bros-Astaru to dude-who-started-having-weird-visions-and-is-just-trying-to-figure-out-the-deal to Nordic-spiritualist-with-two-phds-from-Scandanavian-universities-on-the-subject, etc), which gave me a lot of room to explore different types of rituals, ceremonies, "magic", etc.

(polytheism in general lends itself well to this sort of easy plurality!  i can believe other people are experiencing something real with their gods, and i can be talking to a totally different set of gods, and that’s just all very compatible, etc)

anyway, i started calling myself

AGNOSTIC/DRUID

around then, because i knew i'd found *something*, something that felt like all the realest moments i'd ever had in nature, and all the realest moments i'd ever had in that shitty megachurch, but i wasn't quite ready to put a theology to it.

but, idk, you do the thing for a while, and you start encountering some things that you may as well call gods, and you realize you're in pretty deep, and you ditch the "agnostic" bit and just throw hands and start describing yourself as

SOME SORTA DRUID-NEOPAGAN-ANIMIST THING

because that's the most precise thing you can muster.  in particular, the druid bit resonates because nature's still very much at the center of my practice; the neopagan bit resonates because i'm not especially interested in reconstructing older traditions or being faithful to any actual pre-Christian traditions, and animist resonates because what i sometimes call gods seem to be tied pretty tightly to the land itself.  it's all very experiential; all this mostly means i'm some weird chick who sometimes grabs a car and drives out someplace very lonely and hikes for a while and does some hippie shit to try and talk with the land or the god or whatever is there.  and sometimes i come back from it changed, or refocused, or what-have-you, and hopefully i'm better for it.  i'm aware this makes me look a little ridiculous, and is an unsatisfying answer, sorry!

WRT YOUR SITUATION

i don't know you or your situation, obviously, but if i wanted to give former-me some advice to save her some angst, i'd say

-> Christendom itself is far wilder and more diverse than many churches lead you to believe.  if you still want to be Christian on some level, and it's just a shitty church that's convinced you the whole project is fucked, i'd honestly explore, i dunno, your nearest Quaker meeting.  they're invoking the Holy Spirit with regularity but they're not raging douchenozzles about it.

-> if you're specifically interested in druidism, i found John Michael Greer's "A World Full of Gods" really nice.  (caveat: Greer has *also* gone full right-wing nutjob these days, sigh, so like.  would not recommend a great swath of his writing.  but that one's good)

-> deciding that a just God wouldn't give me a brain and then ask me not to use it was hugely comforting to me.  like, that was the start of the whole process, that was what made me feel ok searching for other churches and trying to find something that fit.  obviously you should take this with 800 grains of salt, because obviously i'm no longer Christian, and thus maybe i'm just some poor misguided fallen soul, but... i still kinda believe that!  maybe if you can make yourself believe that, it'll seem less scary?

idk, happy to answer more questions, sorry for the long ramble, hope it helped~

[duhragonball]

Hellsing Liveblog, Chapters 20-24

By garn, it’s been a while.   This ‘ere’s the “Age of Empire” arc, followed by two one-offs, “Call to Power” and “Ultima Online”.  

Last time, Hellsing sent Alucard, Seras, and Pip Bernadotte to Rio de Janeiro, Brazil to find out more about Millennium.   But Millennium was expecting them, and sent Tubalcain Alahambra to attack Alucard almost as soon as he arrived. 

Recall that the only reason Hellsing knew to check Brazil was because of a tip offered up by their Catholic counterpart, Vatican Section XIII, the Iscariot Organization.  Iscariot knew about Millennium because they had discovered that the Vatican had helped them move men and materials out of Nazi Germany and into South America.   Which brings us to this chapter, which is a flashback showing how Iscariot found out in the first place. 

The date on this chapter really helps me understand all of this, because when I watched this scene in the anime, I thought it was taking place in the present.   But no, this is set back in July, barely a week after Seras became a vampire.  Note that Bishop Maxwell already knows a great deal about this by this point.  He’s not talking to this guy to learn more, he’s confronting him about the crimes he’s already discovered.

This rando bishop he’s talking to was one of the guys who helped Millennium during World War II.    He claims to have been deceived, but Maxwell knows the truth: that he and the others helped Millennium because they knew they were secretly researching vampires, and wanted in on some sweet, sweet vampirism.

This is a recurring theme in Hellsing, where Millennium gets a lot of help from various patsies by promising to make them immortal. Dandyman got all those SWAT team guys to help him by promising immortality to their superiors, and I have a sneaking suspicion that Dandyman himself was just a rube that joined Millennium thinking it was a path to greater power, when in fact they only sought to use him as a test of Alucard’s abilities.   And so it was with the treasonous bishops in the 1940s.   They helped Millennium move to South America, but their research in Europe was destroyed by Hellsing during the war.    And the above page shows us our first look at young Walter, before he retired to the life of a butler.

And now we see Heinkel Wolfe, the star of “Cross Fire”, Kouta Hirano’s three-issue manga about gun-toting assassin nuns.   “Cross Fire” was featured as backups in the first three collected volumes of Hellsing, which works out nicely, so we can recognize Heinkel as she debuts in this story.    She executes this bishop for his unspeakable crimes against the church.   

And really, it is a pretty horrific thing that this guy did.   I mean, I thought about it the other day, how this guy’s pretty high up there in the ranks of the Catholic church.   He doesn’t just go to Mass on Sundays, he’s devoted his whole life to the faith, and then he just turns his back on it as soon as there’s a hint of a chance that he could become an immortal vampire.   And then it falls through, so he spends the next several decades just sort of hoping no one will find out what he did.  It’s a pretty dark thing, though it’s easy to overlook in a whole series of dark moments.

Back in Brazil, the news media and authorities still can’t make any sense of the Alucard/Dandyman battle.   Alucard and his pals escaped in a news chopper and Al must have hyp-mo-tized the pilot to cover their tracks.  

Meanwhile, the mysterious guys who were watching the Dandyman from afar, well they head back to their secret lair.    The Major is the guy in the glasses, and the Captain is the guy in the big coat.   There’s also the Doctor, who sort of defies description, but we’ll deal with him later.   It was the Major who ran the vampire research project back in the 1940s, and the Doctor who conducts all the research.   The Doctor had been pretty confident about all the powers he gave to the Dandyman, and was dismayed to see Alucard defeat him but the Major doesn’t mind at all, because he’s got plenty more vampires to throw at this particular problem.  

They board a blimp, the Graf Zeppelin III, bound for Jaburo, Brazil.  I looked up the Graf Zeppelin to understand the reference, and it turns out the first two were aircraft carriers, not blimps.   These were planned during the 1930′s as Nazi Germany began to re-arm for World War II, but by the time the war actually started, Hilter had lost interest in the project, and the German Navy focused instead on U-boats.    Both Graf Zeppelins were left uncompleted, so maybe this blimp is named after them as a reference to abandoned Nazi projects that could be revived somehow.   As for Jaburo, I looked that up and only found references to the Gundam franchise, so I’m pretty sure this is just a fictional town.

Meanwhile, Alucard and his team check into a motel, and he calls home to report that he successfully absorbed Dandyman’s memories when he killed him and drank his blood.  He now knows everything Dandyman knew about Millennium.   Integra orders him to return to London immediately, as the Queen of England herself wants to know what’s going on here.   Al wants to know if Tegs enjoyed all the violence he caused in Rio, but she’s like “stfu.”

Up to now, Seras and Pip had been scouting around, trying to find some way to get out of the country, but there’s no planes and no ships available.  They were, at least, able to bring back some McDonald’s.    Wait... MacDooolnald’s.   See?  Giorno drives his vampire dad to MacDooolnald’s, but Seras goes out and gets it and brings it back for Alucard, because theirs is a much healthier relationship.

But Al wants to steal a plane.    Pip and Seras don’t take this well, but now I finally see why Al is suggesting this.   He was ordered to return home at once, so this seems like the only way.  

Then Alexander Anderson shows up and starts punching the shit out of Al, because why not?  

Everybody draws their badass weapons to escalate the fight, including Seras, who picks up her giant cannon, but Anderson just thinks it’s funny, and it snaps him out of his fightin’ mood long enough to explain why he’s here.

Seems the Vatican wants to get Alucard back to London as well, so they sent Anderson to tell them about a private plane they arranged just for this purpose.  

Meanwhile, in Jaburo, the Major reports back to his “superiors”, but he refuses to explain what he was doing in Rio.  The Major claims he’s under special orders from Hitler, and these orders supersede all other command structures.    Basically, all these colonels and generals have little choice but to sit back and watch Millennium operate without them.   The Major gives them only a thin veneer of respect, and barely at that.  

Enter Zorin Bltz, a lieutenant in Millennium, who explains it neatly for the reader.  The Major set up all this Millennium stuff after the war, only for these other officers to show up on their doorstep later, probably seeking refuge in the postwar world.   They know there’s vampire stuff going on here, and they want to be vampires too, but the Major isn’t interested in that.  I guess he figures if he turns them into vampires, they would try to pull rank on him.

But the old timers are also extremely curious about the Major’s goal.   He’s used the research to create a thousand vampire soldiers, but what for?   The Major explains that he’s out to “savor the joy of war.” 

Let me pause here to talk about werewolves.   Millennium also has at least two of those: the Captain, and Chief Warrant Officer Schrödinger.   As he returned to Jaburo, the Major asked Schrödinger about “the other werewolves”, and he said they would be along shortly, but we never actually see those guys.   Unless Zorin Blitz and Rip van Winkle are supposed to be werewolves, but I’m pretty sure they’re not.  

On the plane ride back to England, Alucard has a dream, reliving his defeat at the hands of Abraham van Helsing a century earlier. 

In London, everyone’s waiting for him to show up, including representatives from the Vatican.  Heinkel wonders if maybe Anderson flubbed his mission to give Alucard the plane, but Maxwell explains that they had to send Anderson to Brazil, because he knows Anderson is loyal to a fault.   If they sent just any old operative, there’d be too great a risk of that guy defecing to Millennium for a taste of that sweet vampire power.  

Then Alucard finally shows and pays his respects to the Queen of England.   Let’s face it, this is Elizabeth II, I don’t care how the art hides her in silhouette. This story depicts her as being such an old woman after all this time, but it’s 2021 and she’s still alive today.  Alucard praises he beauty.   I get the impression he finds human aging to be something precious in his eyes.  

Alucard explains what we’ve already been over: That Millennium is the new name for the culmination of that Nazi vampire research project in the 1940s.   Alucard and Walter put an end to the project in 1944, but the Major somehow escaped and kept going.

Then Schrödinger appears in the room, to the shock of everyone.    He claims that he is “everywhere”, a talent which allows him to show up anywhere in spite of security.  He claims to be an envoy from Millennium, and sets up a Zoom call with the Major.

Basically, the Major declares war on Hellsing and Great Britain, and on Alucard specifically, by name.   He has no goal, which is basically another way of saying that he wants to fight war for its own sake.   There’s no strategic objective to any of this.   The Major finally has his army of vampire soldiers, and now he wants to take them out into the field and see what they can do.  

Oh, also he has his “superior” officers brutally executed on the video feed, which seems kind of dumb, since neither Hellsing nor Iscariot knew about any of those guys.  Ties things up nicely for the reader, I guess.

Alucard is overjoyed at the prospect of destroying the Major all over again, and Integra orders him to kill Schrödinger while Seras shoots the Major’s iPad.  Then QE2 orders Integra and Alucard to destroy Millennium, like they hadn’t already been workin on that.  

And yeah, there we are.

[currentfandomkick]

Marinette did not sign up for this pt2

forgot to post this before i passed out last night. part one here ao3 here

It was almost four years into being Ladybug when the Justice League made contact.

In that time, she and Chat had built the miraculous team and they both knew each members identities, but swore them all to not seek out one another’s identity. (Though Alya was Alya and had Carapaced figured out on his first outing… convincing her not to reveal that to him took a bit. The girl was determined, but Marinette follows Fu’s rules to the letter (as much as she can) and that meant Secrets Stay Secret damnit.)

Not contacting the JL themselves was partially due to some fallout the Mayor and Parisian government with a (dissolved) Justice League’s branch. It was well before her team’s time. Something about collateral damage and if her miraculous could fix damage dealt by JL members or not playing some role in that too.

She decided it was a good thing when two years later she found a fucking dagger with a large bouquet on her balcony. It became a regular occurrence for special occasions—birthday, winter holidays and on Easter (she didn’t even know why on that one. Her parents aren’t Catholic. Maybe Murder Robin was, or thought she was?). She would just find some weapon with flowers somewhere in her room. She had no fucking clue what Murder Robin (Alya found articles where the ‘new’ Robin was cited as likely having killed multiple people in Gotham and just, yikes) or his friends or even her father (Fucking Batman, the Ghost of Gotham) might have meant by leaving it, but it was clear they had her address, knew which room was hers, and could do a lot of damage if she toed the line. She wasn’t testing any of those ‘no contact rules’ after that.

Hiding a dagger and various other weapons (so many knives and throwing stars) from Maman by giving it to Fu and later passing it off as an eccentric gift from him to her for always helping him out was… an adventure when Fu was still Master Fu. She hopes Murder Robin doesn’t find out about that bit. She has no clue how he or his family (not hers, hers are in Paris with her. Hers at least tried to talk to her, tried to listen and did make time for her. His family? Complete strangers she may share DNA with.)

She (logically) should be terrified that Murder Robin knows her alias and secret identity are the same person; if he’s really one of the world’s greatest detectives’ kids, why wouldn’t he know? Batman must have known for years—why else would Murder Robin be able to find her? the DNA scan was in a closed match system to just Paris. And she knew there was no way Goddamn Batman, Ghost of Gotham, would hang around Paris long enough to get dragged into the system for him to have a ping.

He just did not want anything to do with her or her city’s trouble since it wasn’t his. She wasn’t his. Wasn’t wanted by him. That was fine—he has enough to worry about in his hell city.

Sending Murder Robin out to do his dirty work?

Not fine.

Her team and her were… managing the Hawkmoth situation. Keeping it from spilling out of Paris since Startrain. Goo-guy managed to give them a break—people can grab akuma that aren’t meant for them and become much weaker akuma than if the akuma reached its target. Same with the few that could grab an akuma in the air. It meant when akuma went out, some citizens were willing to bear Hawkmoth’s wrath for a bit—even groups taking turns sometimes—to prevent someone from getting akumatized until Ladybug could purify the akuma or Chat Noir could destroy it.

And for akuma battles, well, she has more than just her and Chat, Luck (Creation) and Destruction. Viperion gave them multiple chances to change costly choices in battle. Bunnix fixed the ones that Viperion couldn’t. All oversized opponents fell to Ryuko and her mastery of the elements, even if she can’t always make it thanks to different schools and tight schedules. Miss Sting was chosen by Marinette—Aurore was easy to lean on for news team reports and media appearances that Ladybug and Chat Noir don’t have the time or energy for. Plus, Aurored needed the anger management, so win-win. Don’t even get her started on Pegasus or King Monkey always being ready at a moment’s notice and how they both started joining Nino and Alya’s parkour dates that have morphed into group hangouts in last two years. Seriously—if she knew where she needed to be, Max was ready to answer her call. If she knew more chaos would work as a distraction, long live King Monkey, the Great Distractor.

Then there’s her emotional support in the field (besides her chaton), Carapace. He’s a great shield in battle, good with civilians and quick to defend. He’s also big on mental health (something their team sorely needed). How Nino managed to get turtle headphones, Marinette doesn’t know. She does know she nicks them from him regularly as Ladybug for team hangouts and when she needs to clam down on patrol.

Then there is her civilian bestie, the one who convinced her to stay as Ladybug, Alya Cesaire, aka Rena Rogue and the Ladyblogger. Rena Rouge is by and far one of her favorites to talk about potential Hawkmoths with, and work out akuma prevention techniques with. In the battlefield she was one of the first to strike (even if that’s not how she should be using the flute, Marinette has no room for judgment given how she uses all of her Lucky Charms.) Alya always posted and circulated anti-akuma tips and altered the Ladyblog to have each icon for known miraculous mean something.

Marinette was nothing but supportive of her friend, even if the blog is a behemoth to maintain and resulted in Alya retiring as her Deputy (Rose took over gleefully as Deputy). She liked that the Ladybug was for news, and the Cat for if an attack is ongoing. The Butterfly tracks akuma sightings before an attack, and was a bit on the nose in her opinion, but it’s effectively mapped out areas where Hawkmoth’s lair is or has an opening, giving them an area to investigate and patrol more heavily. The Turtle offered guided meditation videos and yoga sessions (somehow always on-going), while the Fox was for group chats and various akuma-related support groups. The Peacock offered mental health resources, and was constantly growing. The Bee was for self defense videos and sat next to Dragon for akuma survival tips. The Snake was one of her personal favorites, advice on calming down with guided breathing if someone feels close to being akumatized, and she’d used it herself more than once. The Horse was the one she’s the least familiar with, for shelter routes that she never used. The Monkey held a number of fun distractions, videos and memes uploaded by her followers with art and songs, and was overall very light hearted.

Marinette is proud of her team.

Though it doesn’t mean there aren’t days she’s waiting for it all to unravel, or for an Older Bunnix to appear again and tell her they have to undo the day Marinette’s identities were compromised. But that is a always an apocalypse event option only. Chat Blanc still haunts Marinette’s nightmares, and Alix’s too. the Princess Justice timeline haunts Alix since she lived it in real time, but it’s Adiren’s nightmare come to life in multiple other akuma attacks. Apparently if Marinette is akumatized, she brings about a second Reign of Terror so encompassing, it made Robespierre’s look like a child’s drawing of what a reign 

It was during another Syren event when things went from workable to a slow boiling unbearable. All but Alix were transformed and fighting minions to clear a path for Ladybug to get to the main akuma.

Imagine her frustration when Aquaman and Aqualad appeared behind her while she was scouting on the outskirts, and both refused to make any eye contact, practically kneeling in water to her and making themselves a target. When they should be able to read the room and see that the battlefield isn’t the place for this.

“Oh Great Paschalítsa” Aquaman began, “I understand your hesitance in this matter, given the Miraculous and Atlantis’ history,” Aquaman continued as she dodged yet another minion further ahead and kept working her way to where the akuma was, ignoring his speech. “But I ask that you do not sink—”

Marinette gave up on her current task to ensure there wasn’t some international incident of Ladybug letting Aquaman be captured by akumas or something. She’d never head the end of it if she didn’t.

But now they were surrounded. Aqualad at least kept his attention on the task at hand (re: keeping minions from spotting her) as they all worked out a way to escape, even if he wasn’t looking anywhere near her. Apparently Aquaman got the message (finally) and did the same as his sidekick(?) after Aqualad made a few gestures she wasn’t paying attention to. She does have an akuma item to break and akuma to catch and purify.

The pair did manage to act as decent bodyguards and distractions while she worked out the kid’s item and how it connected to their fixation—no swimming until their grades up meant all of their gear but a whistle was taken away. One Lucky Charm and convoluted plot that merged fighting in 3-D, a pair of scissors and a lot off kicking off underwater buildings later, and Paris was back to normal.

She managed it without talking to Aquaman once. She could give quick directions to Aqualad without toeing the line—he wasn’t part of the Justice League and was known to operate in the ocean alone when Aquaman wasn’t there.

“Great Paschalítsa,” Aquaman began and Marinette wanted him to go off and leave her alone. Him and Aqualad. “As king of Atalntis, I humbly offer my aide in whatever has caused you and the great Mávri Gáta to show yourselves to the world.”

What was with all this formal speech? Marinette thought they knew French, or well, Alya mentioned it said they did in their bio, but it clearly wasn’t the kind her class used for projects. And Marinette was exhausted, frustrated, and now did not have a good and convenient target for her rage (re: akuma that drowned Paris) and well…

Well, she blew up. A bit. But can you blame her?

They wouldn’t take the hint. (Silence means Fuck Off).

“Look,” Marinette whirled on them, ignoring her team’s shock and not even going in for the celebratory ‘Pound it’.  “I told Murder Robin—“ the pair winces at the that wording. Good. They knew who she meant then.

“—that I won’t get involved with anything involving our dad.”

She didn’t miss the sharp intakes from her team. Chat knew, only due to a freak out over being left a freaking sword one time and she panicked, okay?

“And I meant it. Just because Batman felt guilty or something,” She doubted it. Ghost of Gotham doesn’t feel anything and can apparently take out entire buildings on occasion. (Even if she was pretty sure that was someone filling in for him, she wouldn’t discount it either.) “That Doesn’t mean I’m going to change my mind on the matter—My team has got this. And we don’t need a handout four years too late.”

They had to. Fu was gone (For three months now. Three months Marinette held the weight of being The Guardian on her shoulders alone. She had to have this. She wouldn’t trust random elements sent by Mr. ‘I accept my murderous son and ignore the one in constant peril that blew herself up twice to save Paris.’  

“Bug out.”

She knew her team would have questions, but Chat could answer them for now and Miss Sting would be able to handle any questions if any the media tried anything. Bright side of having the main Miraculous Team journalist as Rena with a determined hacker Pegasus; if it was personal to the team, the pair made sure it was never there.

--

Later at JL HQ

Aquaman walked up to Batman once the meeting was over. Batman knew the man had something on his mind and that it was related to himself—why else would he keep looking at him during the meeting? Whatever was troubling the Atlantian, Bruce could only hope it wasn’t emotions. That was really, really not his department… Jonn was much better with issues like that.

“Batman, may I have a word?”

Batman nodded, quick to follow the other out into a more private room.

“It has come to my attention that your daughter and you have a, uh, tricky relationship.”

Batman raised an eyebrow, as his relationship with Cass was doing well… he thought. Maybe he should visit her more? She was doing fine on her own and was always warm to him when he visited her in China on her missions against the Triad. Perhaps he should see if she was open to working with him on a case on that, or see if she wanted to come to Gotham again.

“And I don’t mean to judge here,” Aqua man continued, obviously nervous. “But uh, apparently your current Robin is well aware of her existence.”

Batman raised an eyebrow under the cowl. “Black Bat and Robin are close.”

The way Aquaman’s face contorted indicated nothing good. “Your other daughter.” The man paused, waiting for Batman to understand. “Ladybug.”

Bruce… Bruce froze. “I don’t have another daughter.” Not to his knowledge.

Aquaman ran a hand through his hair. “Well apparently ‘Murder Robin’ has met her,” Aquaman said with air quotes of all things. “Years ago.”

Bruce felt his heart stop. Damian’s… adjustment into the family had not been easy. And a few years ago Damian was much more… willing to do things against the Batcode, things that had him thriving in the League of Assassins. Things that changed a person. Things he’d need to ask this Ladybug—his daughter, another surprise child—about.

“And given that a Ladybug being active has always been a sign of a potential apocalypse—“

Batman’s red flags began flashing. Hard. His child was in danger and fighting a potential apocalypse event. Without his help. Without Batman’s resources.

“I assume Ladybug is a mantel.” Bruce hoped she had a mentor, someone to ease her into hero-work.

“Yes.” Aquaman looked… hesitant then. “Were it not for one Ladybug’s mercy, my people would have died when Atlantis was sunk by her equal, the Black Cat’s user. It seems this time they’re allies this time, against the Butterfly—I, Batman, are you alright?”

Bruce was not okay, at all. There is an ongoing apocalypse event, a daughter he never met stopping it (how old was she? Was she Damian’s age or older? Younger? He didn’t want her to have to live with this life, but she was and was doing so without him, without his help, without someone he knew she could lean on for support) and apparently his youngest son was well aware of this and did nothing to help. Did not even tell him.

He was going to have words with Damian.

“Excuse me.” Batman turned to leave. He has a son to interrogate, research to do, and a daughter to find (beg forgiveness for not getting to her sooner, and help her) on top of the usual workload. A Bat’s work is never done.

Wonder Woman who stopped him while he was reeling with this information, her grip too solid on his arm, and unlikely to break.

“It is not wise to rush in.” She began, appealing to reason in the hopes of keeping a panicked “Batdad” from making the situation worse. “From what Aquaman has told us, she does not welcome your involvement,” she said slowly, hoping it would sink in. “The Ladybug Miraculous has always been an agent of creation, of healing.” Diana hoped that would set her friend’s mind at ease. Ladybugs were notorious for their battle prowess and strategies, yes, but first and foremost their duty was to undo damage. “Ladybug herself will have much on her shoulders if her role is anything like my mother’s when she was among the Chosen, and adding yourself to the equation before her adversary is defeated will only serve to distract her from her goal.”

Batman remained tense, but didn’t struggle against Wonder Woman’s grasp. Good.

Green Lantern was the next to approach, as planned. “So why don’t you focus on your family in Gotham before rushing into meeting this kid,” Green Lantern—no, Hal suggested. “We’ll work on finding out what’s causing this possible apocalypse. You get your house in order.”

Bruce heard the words that weren’t said. Find out what your ex-assassin son did your demi-god daughter and make sure he doesn’t screw up anything further.

“That is not—“

“Batman.” Wonder Woman squeezed his arm. “This is not a suggestion.”

Cold curled in Bruce's stomach. His daughter was in danger, fighting against a potential apocalypse, and he was told to sit this one out. When it was personal. (His daughter who he needed to meet, to learn about, to see what made her tick and work out how to help her wherever she might need it. His daughter who he had lost years with.)

(They were ordering him to lose more time with her.)

“You are benched from League activities until this is sorted out.” Wonder Woman continued, as though she hadn’t just gutted Bruce. “I will take lead on Ladybug’s case. My people have much experience with her and the Black Cat as allies.” It was Diana that was smiling then. “Perhaps Mother’s connection will convince her to allow our aide.”

Green Lantern nodded along. “And when I’m not with you guys, well, GL core is in charge of keeping things not-apocalypse-y across the universe and keeping it from spiraling. And Miraculous tend to like the whole Balance thing, so it shouldn’t be too much for me to help out every now and then with them too.”

Bruce twitched where he was. He wasn’t going to win this. Not by a long shot.

But they were taking Aquaman and a Green Lantern. Granted, at least it wasn’t Guy. But a Lantern. Over him. When it involves his family.

He had to get his house in order quickly.

--

Damian would say he was quite pleased with himself that day. He managed to decide the type of weapon that would help his sister defend herself against others best, given her profession as a seamstress, he was annoyed he hadn’t thought of it sooner. Selecting the type of needle to give her, and to ensure they could be used for fabrics to give her a reason to carry them on her person, was crucial however.

She had rejected his other offerings thus far, though he could hardly blame her. This would be his seventh attempt. He did hear it was a lucky number from somewhere… and he had gotten better since his last attempts at understanding the type of person she showed herself to be and the type of person she wished to be seen as.

The Swiss dagger on his first attempt was too bulky and not hidden enough for a style of fighting she should strive to cultivate. His second attempt was an ear dagger which were easier to use and she could add additional force with her thumb. He thought it was better protection for her, and it was small enough this time to be kept in her purse. Much better than his first attempt. Only from her pictures he knew it wasn’t ever in her purse.

He had failed to find her an acceptable apology gift that offered her the protection she needed. The third was when he moved to a larger blade, hoping the thin rapier could be hidden well enough as decorative or as a fancier fencing tool than standard. It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility given her closeness to an Olympic level fencer and this ‘Adrien Agreste’ who often partnered with Tsurugi. He was glad she had taken to displaying it at the least, though Adrien claiming to have given it to her left a bad taste in his mouth.

His sister wished to not have it known she had her own weapons then, he could handle that. His fourth attempt was  going to be a butterfly knife but given legal restrictions that he had come to realize she would follow (as idiotic as they were) he changed it to a classic Swiss knife. He did see this carried on her person on occasion, but not often. He looked into more easily concealed knives and gifted her a ballpoint pen knife—it looked like a pen and he made sure to customize it to resemble the pens in her room (he took a sample for reference) and did see her often carrying that one, though by active attempt or chance he couldn’t gather. He decided she would need a long range item next, and gifted her a small variety of throwing stars (and a knife or two, she seemed to favor possible close combat weapons of those he gave her). He noticed that none of these were carried on her person (he may have bugged them with trackers to figure out her preference) and they rarely left her room.

That was why he concluded that this time needles that she could use for sewing or battle were his best bet. Finding a way to walk that line was proving challenging.

Father came in while he was making his selection. He did find it odd Father hadn’t mentioned her to the rest of the family, but it could be that he wished her a more peaceful life. Damian would not disrespect his father’s wishes by bringing her up.

“Damian, we need to talk.”

Damian furrowed his brow, running over what could warrant that tone. He came up empty.

Father did move closer and see he was looking at needles this time. And showed surprised.

“For Okhti Al Kobra,” Damian stated, hoping his father wouldn’t be upset at him recognizing her. He knew now it was better for her to be apart from them, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t do what he could to help her protect herself. His older sister deserved better.

Father did freeze at that.

Had Damian displeased him? (He wouldn’t… wouldn’t send him to back. Damian knew that. But that look… it brought back the boy that wondered when he’d be tossed aside by the Great Batman for no longer being a good solider.)

“Father? I know you don’t like to speak of her but.”

“You, you’re getting her needles?” it was a question. He didn’t get why.

“Yes, my last presents seemed inadequate. She has taken to the penknife, but only sometimes. She keeps the Swiss on her sometimes too—haven’t you been keeping an eye on her social media? She posts a disgusting amount. I figured given the boutique it wouldn’t be unacceptable for her to carry needles on her as a weapon and tool in the future, should anyone else discover our connection.”

Bruce stared Damian, waiting for him to finish.

“She does keep the flowers I left her, though she does react oddly. The first time she was very pale.” Looking back, it was likely fear. She was a civilian after all… “However I believe she has come to accept that even with distance, she is still a Bat by blood and as such, should remain vigilant.” Damian hoped his report was adequate.

“She… how old is she?” Father’s tone was softer then. but the question didn’t make any sense.

“Father, you should know how old she is.” Damian waited for the man to respond.

He didn’t.

Damian furrowed his brow. “Father, you do know who she is, right?”

“Ladybug.”

Damian blinked at that. He had no idea who that was, but he knew an alias when he heard one. “She’s a civilian—when did she—”

“Damian.” He stilled at that. “How old is she?”

Damian straightened then. “She was twelve and a half when we first met. She will be sixteen in two weeks.” Damian glanced at his abandoned screen. “She enjoys design.”

“Her, her name.” His father looked… lost.

“I, we don’t revel secret identities?” Damian was a bit lost. Father should know of his sister. They were only two years apart. She was from before his father’s training became serious. He should know of her, at least. And if he didn’t, wasn’t it a betrayal to her if he revealed who she was without her permission? Whenever he tried to visit, she was always elsewhere, and he couldn’t very well show up as Damian Wayne. That would reveal the family and she didn’t need to know that. Didn’t need that burden.

“She knows she’s my daughter.” Father sounded…desperate.

“She knows she is Batman’s. I didn’t reveal your identity, or the family’s.”

“I…”

Damian took a deep breath. He didn’t want to betray his family. Or further hurt his older sister. “I believe that we should speak to her before discussing her identity. It… it should be her choice.”

Father looked pained at that.

“I assume you don’t…” No, father would not know how the first meeting went… right?

Father said nothing before leaving.

Damian wondered if he should visit her sooner. He eyed his cart and got her a set of weaponry needles, knitting, and a set made for seamstresses with small hands. He hoped these were to her liking. Perhaps he should add white heather (Protection) and purple hyacinth (I’m sorry) in addition to the zinnias…. Or just give her two with the zinnias mixed between them, as Damian reasoned the heather and hyacinth wouldn’t looks the best together. Yellow (daily remembrance) and scarlet (constancy) zinnias with heather (protection) and some greenery should be fine, and purple hyacinth (I’m sorry) mixed with magenta (lasting affection) white (goodness) and perhaps a white daffodil (stay as sweet as you are) with a filler of some sort would work well. She accepted his apologies (albeit in flowers) before, and he hoped he had proven he was paying enough attention to her for her to see that he meant it.

He was glad he hadn’t killed her that day.

Now he had research to do to help his sister.

He missed Brown as she slipped out. And completely missed finding out she was messaging Todd, Drake and Cassandra the news: there was a missing Bat into design, goes by Ladybug, and Bruce has no clue what her identity is.

Cass didn’t send anything in response.

Jason stated he would find her before Tim.

Stephanie was just excited for another girl in the group. Little sister in need of help? Count her in—being Spoiler versus being Batgirl was a world of difference. Having a team made it easier, and it shouldn’t be too hard to convince the girl to give it a shot, right?

--

Thanks for waiting. part three here

tags: @heldtogetherbysafetypins @laurcad123 @raisuke06

debating which bat will find her first (in person), so feel free to state any preferences, and thanks for the comments and kudos--it really does help with working this idea out.