#why weren't your parents just catholic then

[cypheragent]

the weird thing is i was raised protestant but i think i was raised in like, the most catholic-flavored protestantism ever, despite my parents being certified catholicism haters. like all my hangups are far more catholic-coded than protestant-coded

[venuzasmuse]

𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄, 𝐞. 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐬

— the holidays are meant to be festive, free of heartache and solemnity, but odds are forever not in your favor as you spend the holidays with your best friend alongside her sister, that broke your heart.

[rockstar!ellie au, best friend’s sister!ellie, kinda mean!ellie (for a few parts of the story)]

warnings: reader is afab, not proofread, ANGST, ANGST, AND MORE ANGST, mentions of heavy themes of substance abuse (drugs), ellie is lowkey a dick in this story lol, smut & fluff in later parts, SLOW BURN. POC FRIENDLY! minors & men don’t interact.

parts:

prologue: read this

one: click here

the holidays were supposed to be festive—full of cheesy tearjerker hallmark movies, a hot chocolate filled aroma, gingerbread houses that took up too much of your time to make, and an obnoxious amount of "holy nights" being sung in the pews of a church.

or even emotional long hauls back home if you were blessed enough to have one to go back to.

the holidays- especially christmas- is a time where even the moviegoers were granted 'awes' as families reconciled on a big screen.

yet, you haven't celebrated a christmas in the span of 2 years ever since you drafted yourself away for college.

it wasn't because you were deadbeat or were escaping for any given reason. no, you still regularly keep in touch with your parents but after you left for college, they decided to leave behind the mundane lifestyle they've had since moving to the middle of bumbfuck nowhere.

your hometown is just below austin, texas, but still far enough where the only things you saw to even get to the nearest walmart, were "has anyone else died for you?" billboards and a plethora of dollar generals at the end of every street.

it was reasonable for them to leave given there wasn't much keeping them in the first place but unluckily for you, it led you to every christmas since then spent alone in your dorm room.

you never really minded.

it ate away at you for the first few days during your first holiday away from home but eventually you grew accustomed to sitting with your solitude.

it also helped that you were rooming with a random who never was home enough to question why you were still on campus when she arrived after the break.

but once you began rooming with sarah, spending another "blue christmas", as she calls it, by yourself was nowhere in alignment in her thesaurus of plans.

she left no room for debate as she coerced you into going back home with her for the holidays.

you were completely against it at first and as you sat passenger seat of her handed down ford bronco, you still wondered if you'd be able to escape at all.

the idea of stop, drop, and rolling out the door tempting you with every passing entrance sign.

you weren't opposed to the idea because you just simply didn't want to go. in fact, if the circumstances were different, it would've appealed to you in every which way because the two of you grew up together: two blocks away from each other's houses.

ever since the two of you met in eighth grade when she had just moved due to her dad, joel's nasty divorce, y'all were practically joined at the hip. ya'll navigated through the most angsty parts of an all girl’s catholic school together and that included the insufferable amount of times spent at each other's houses.

you were around so much, joel even started to question if you had a house to go home to.

so, it wasn't the fear of overstaying your welcome during the break that made you resistant to the invitation. life simply didn't come that easy for you.

it was because of her sister, ellie.

where there was a sarah, resided an ellie and there was no duo without a trio first.

you could almost recount the day you first met ellie. every minuscule detail still etched into the surface of your mind. she had long, uneven auburn hair that she ended up cutting herself.

it sat funny on her shoulders and she shot you a toothy, power chained grin every time the two of you made eye contact because she just so happened to do something that once again, perpetually got her another weekly.

she had a tomboyish charm and you knew then at the brutal age of 14, you were in for it. your crush worsened when you found out sarah was her sister. they looked nothing alike so it caught you off guard completely.

you were spending the night for the first time and y’all talked for hours the moment sarah fell asleep. ellie took the chance to sneak up on you, due to sarah’s inability to shoo her away from her best friend because she hated sharing you.

you learned that her favorite dinosaur was the dimetrodon and she wanted to play the electric guitarist in a band whenever the stars aligned her to.

ellie stuck around and the friendship between the two of you inevitably brew leading to a puppy love, slow burn relationship that flowed into your senior year.

but good things never lasted because every high has its lows and with ellie, the lows seemed to outweigh the good.

the two of you were going strong for a while. ya’ll were as in love as two clueless kids could be and your thoughts were set in stone that nobody or nothing could’ve taken ellie away from you. your ellie.

you were so sure that the two of you even planned to move out together after graduation. ya’ll didn’t have the slightest clue what ya’ll were going to do.

maybe ride up to seattle and get a cozy studio apartment that fit the two of you just right and maybe even get a cat too. a ragdoll cat, specifically.

being two broke teens with big dreams, ellie ended up snagging a job at the local vinyl shop. everything was perfect. ya’ll were perfect.

then, just as you reached the highest peak, you felt the firmament above your head shatter, shooting you down back into the earth’s core.

2 months into her seemingly great job, she met catherine- or cat, as the two of you called her. cat was the ideal cool girl. she was littered with tattoos she did herself and played in a garage band with her friends every saturday.

she seemed so… ellie. at first, you brushed it all off. you met cat when you attended an underground show her band hosted, because she invited the two of you come watch them perform.

it was a no doubt that they were amazing. the crowd went wild for them and for the first time when you looked at ellie, you witnessed a sense of sureness written over her features. she wanted to be on that stage with them. it was everything she ever dreamed of.

the crowds, the sense of belonging, everything about it was just so ellie.

but then as time passed, ellie began spending more time with cat. you wanted to be a cool girl about it and not come off too strong, or insecure. so you let it go. that was until you barely began to even see your girlfriend because she was spending time with cat and her band.

some days, you wouldn’t even find out why she wasn’t returning your texts, until after she got home from being with them.

you grew tired and fights began to subdue. eventually, ellie grew mean and you grew passive and angry. unheard.

but it was only because you were afraid of losing her. she was your ellie and the thought of that ever changing set a flame in the pit of your stomach like nothing ever did.

because of a lack of reassurance the flame didn’t wane down. it grew and grew, shooting embers until everything the two of you built went crashing down into a pile of ash.

you knew that your ellie, held no recognition in your heart anymore. the ellie you grew to know was cruel and left without a trace led back to her.

tags: @bready101

[loveanddeepspice]

𝕋𝕖𝕞𝕡𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝔾𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕖

✞ synopsis:  you've come back to the small town you grew up in for a visit. though your relationship with the catholic church and faith in general have been strained since you were younger, you find yourself drawn back to the church... or more specifically... the new priest... you aren't ready to share your secret sin with him... but you may not be able to help yourself.

✞ pairing: sylus x curvy fem!reader

✞ rating:  18+ (minors do not engage)

✞ cw:  religion (catholicism), priest, lapsed faith, adultery, priest kink, suicidal mention, dead parent, sex, masturbation, drugs (marijuana), mentions of other drug use, drinking (more will be added when/if they arise)

✞ disclaimer: this fiction explores a romantic relationship between a lapsed Catholic and an unconventional priest. it is not designed to be inflammatory or critical. catholic authors were asked to participate in the process. we hope you enjoy it, but we know that these topics can be sensitive, so please skip this fiction if it will in any way offend you.

✞ chapter:  4 / ?

✞ co-authors:  redbriony, confuseddoughnut (they do not have tumblr)

✞ ao3 link:  here

✞ chapter synopsis: guilt is heavy on your mind, but when given the opportunity to confess, things escalate to an admission you weren't expecting. it would seem you aren't the only one who deals with temptation.

✞ index: chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5

Please comment on this post if you want to be added to the tag list for updates!

You were pretty used to people wanting to have sex with you - boys at the club that danced too close. Or the library in college, checking you out from behind when you returned books. You’d learned to ignore the stares, the not-so-subtle advances, the occasional grope on a crowded dance floor. It was just part of being a woman, you had told yourself. And truthfully, being desired felt good, even if it sometimes manifested in inappropriate ways. 

It had a specific power, especially when you often looked at your hips in the mirror. Even when you felt bloated or your skin was breaking out, catching an appreciative glance from a cute guy perked up your mood. It was a reminder that despite your insecurities, your body was beautiful and alluring to others. There was something deeply validating about that.

You had seen the restraint in Zayne’s eyes, the way he had held himself back the moment he met you. It was different from the hungry leers of other men. There was a respect there, a reverence almost as if he never quite believed that you were real. 

But you felt the sweat-slick desire coursing through his veins whenever he fucked you. Fucked you against the wall, the desk bent over. You had smelled the lust on his skin - his need to claim. This led you to believe there wasn’t much in his own life he had much control over - though you never asked. 

Most times you were with him, you didn’t try to distract him. You pretended not to care when he slipped the wedding band off his finger and tossed it somewhere out of his line of sight. Being wanted, needed, and craved so intensely always took priority in your mind of what was right or proper. The way he touched you, kissed you, and drove into you with such fervor. 

You didn’t let the ring distract you, considering it was just an object. 

Until one morning, it caught your eye. The simple gold band rested on the nightstand as you sat against the headboard. You blinked and glanced over at Zayne sleeping next to you - his defined shoulder blades and strong muscles, the smooth curve of his body leading to narrow hips. 

At that moment, you wished you could start over and stay in this life forever. Maybe he would have come with you if you ran away. Maybe you could have convinced him to protect you, or you could have made up an excuse for why he needed to stay by your side. Deep down, you knew those thoughts were selfish and even comical. You had been desperate and needy yet appreciative of how he had made everything else disappear. 

Maybe you were his way of breaking free of the monotony of his own life. Like a character in a novel or a television show - just another man’s object of lust and curiosity. But this man was kind, intelligent, decent, and honest from the start. 

And yet, in those cramped quarters of that hotel room, staring at the wood grain of the nightstand, you couldn’t imagine a single scenario where things ended anything other than badly. 

It had all been so simple, falling into bed with the good doctor who worked nights - whose marriage didn’t matter or had seemed not to. Maybe, in another life, he would have swept you off your feet and carried you far away to far-off places, like Scotland, where you always wanted to visit. With all his money and experience, surely he could’ve whisked you away to somewhere beyond…

Letting your fantasies consume you as you looked at him again, dark hair against the pillow, lips parted slightly in slumber, he looked more vulnerable while asleep. The hard lines on his face softened, and the ever-present intensity drained away. It would have been so easy to wake him and lose yourself in the fire again. 

But something held you back, causing your gaze to land back on the ring. You envisioned a woman with vibrant red hair who was solid and straightforward. She could be a doctor too, or maybe a real estate agent who worked 60 hours a week. 

You looked toward the nightstand drawer and knew what book would be inside—one that every hotel room seemed to have. Reaching out, you opened the drawer, examining the well-worn blue cover. Quietly, you took the Bible out and flipped through its thin pages in your lap, illuminated by the soft morning light through the crack in the curtains. Without even looking, you found the page you were searching for, mouthing the passage you had read countless times before. 

‘Though the Lord is great, He cares for the humble, but keeps His distance from the proud.’

A strange, eerie feeling washed over you as you thought about your own humanity, that ring on the nightstand. In that moment, a wave of self-pity but you as you realized how simple and insignificant humans really were. But you kept flipping through the pages anyway.

‘Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble at heart, and you will find rest for your souls.’

“D-does that include me?” You whispered to yourself, breaking the silence of the room. Of your thoughts. “I'm carrying a lot of garbage with me.” You snorted, bringing a thumb up to swipe at a tear that gathered in your eye. You smeared your face across your arm, sniffling, trying to suppress a tight sob. 

Whatever this was, whatever you had gotten involved in, there were no solutions or promises. Talking to God seemed as futile as ever. 

“I think it's best if I go home for a little while,” you said, loud enough to startle Zayne out of sleep. You closed your eyes and shut the Bible, wishing for some kind of miracle to wash away the guilt and confusion - the sin that had entangled itself around you. “I need to visit my dad,” you added, trying to steady your voice. “Get my head straight.”

Fully awake now, Zayne sat up, turning to face you. “Alone?”

His features were pinched, concerned. There was a flash of regret in your stomach, and you laughed. 

“No.” You answered. Then you shook your head. Your eyes were stinging again, but you clutched the edges of the Bible and breathed deeply. “Yes, of course, alone. God, I can't believe you just fucking asked me that.” 

The words were spoken harshly, but they were truthful and full of shame.

Zayne held his head high, revealing the internal conflict he may have been struggling with. He leaned back against the headboard, and you could see him trying to figure out what to say next as he gazed into the distance. Then his eyes closed, and when they opened and locked with you again, the hazel color seemed to dance in the dimly lit room. He swallowed hard before saying, “Maybe you shouldn't sleep around if it's going to upset you.”

“I'm upset with you, ” you stated firmly. Your thumb began tapping the side of the Bible. “I'm upset with myself.” 

Zayne shook his head in frustration and ran a hand through his hair. The look on his face made you want to reach out and comfort him. But you knew you shouldn't. That feeling of despair washed over you again, but you welcomed it this time. It was a harsh reality and a reminder of the situation. The bitter taste of logic told you that you'd been used and that despite any genuine feelings from either of you - the actions had still been wrong. 

It was a sobering realization that you loved this man, the same one you'd been sneaking around with behind his wife's back. Over and over again. Your sense of morality has failed you in the end, and you couldn't help but feel dirty, tainted, maybe even a bit worthless. You couldn't justify your actions or rationalize them anymore. 

The affections of one man had caused a tectonic shift in your being, a deep rumbling that shook you to your very foundation. Your faith in God, the same one who had taken your mother from you, was wavering even more. 

In a fit of emotion, you had quit your job that afternoon and impulsively bought a plane ticket. It was a familiar pattern - escape was the default when faced with overwhelming loss. And as you sat in the exit row, surrounded by strangers, you couldn't decide which scenario had felt more devastating - losing your mother or potentially losing yourself. 

“Remember, honey,” Your mother's words echoed in your mind as the plane took off. “A man can make you feel like the most special woman in the world. But only God can fill that hole in your heart. Don't look for love in the wrong places, alright?” 

You had pressed into the seat, tears prickling in your eyes that you blinked away. You had refused to break down here, 30,000 feet in the air, with nowhere to hide. 

Walking was always your go-to activity to clear your head. Whether it was with a destination in mind or not. Your dad had offered you use of his car plenty of times since you got home, but you declined - appreciating the privacy of walking. He hadn’t caught on how much you wanted your privacy yet but hadn’t bothered asking. Or ask why you hadn’t gone to church with him since before the festival. 

Since your conversation with Zayne, a heavy sense of something that felt like a weight clung to you like a dense fog; each step feels like a struggle, as if trudging through mud. But really, what had you expected? Your mind was clouded by the usual clarity that came with walking. But you knew you couldn’t stay in your room forever; eventually, your dad would catch on. Maybe he had learned from the experience with your mother how to catch onto sadness, and you couldn’t have that happen.  

So you did what she used to - you drank half a bottle of wine and left the rest in the fridge before heading out into the night. You had no particular destination. While drinking, you did your best not to think about your mother or whatever else was troubling you. But that’s not what makes you feel guilty. It’s a mix of everything: your secret, Zayne, and the fact you thought alcohol could numb it all away. 

As you continued to walk, the rec center by the church gradually came into view. The sign proclaiming a Bible study catches your attention and a stream of teenagers exiting the building.  They had an unmistakable energy about them, with their trendy and vibrant clothing. It was intriguing, something worth pausing to observe. Life carried on, even after you stumbled down a path and nearly fell off track. It was absurd to think about how one man’s deception could cause so much…UGH! 

You heard a familiar voice call your name from the building's steps, and you turned to see Xavier. He adjusted his jacket as he descended the concrete stairs, passing by a group of teenagers who chatted on the sidewalk. 

“Hey,” you forced a polite grin, tilting your head to meet his gaze. “Aren’t you a bit too old for youth group?”

He rolled his eyes. “I help out the Father from time to time,” he explained. “But when it’s these guys…yeah, kinda does feel like middle school over again.” He gave a small laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m so busy, I barely make it to church or anything. This was just convenient.”

“Teaching kids about the Bible, huh?” you offered, trying to keep the conversation light. The last thing you wanted Xavier to do was pick up on your melancholy mood. 

Xavier nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets. “It’s nice to give back, you know?” 

“Well, aren’t you lucky?” You said, admiring Xaviers' easy smile. He had always been reliable, especially when it came to helping his parents and now working for your dad. He certainly seemed to have matured more than you and understood the importance of responsibility. 

Perhaps he could sense something was amiss, and hopefully, he couldn’t smell the wine on your breath at all. Regardless, he took the opportunity to shoo away some of the kids still lingering around before it got too dark for them to walk home safely. Once they were out of sight, he turned back to you. 

“So, how have you been? You look a little…off.” 

“Long day.” You admitted, not wanting to burden him of all people, but in some way desperately craving a scrap of real attention. “Talking about it would be too much of a hassle. I’ll feel better tomorrow.”

Xaviers' brow furrowed with what appeared to be concern. “You know, sometimes talking about it can help. Even if it’s just a little bit.” He took a step closer, his eyes searching yours. “I’m here to listen if you want…” 

You hesitated, unsure if you were ready to open up. Something about Xavier's presence, the sincerity in his voice, made you feel…safe. Maybe it was the fact that you’d known him for so long, or maybe it was how he always genuinely cared about others. He was so sincere and sweet, and your shoulders slumped because you couldn’t even fathom where to begin - not wanting to. 

“I’m good, promise.” You forced another smile, and that seemed to do the trick because Xavier nodded slowly, though his eyes still flickered with concern. 

“Alright. If you say so.” 

An awkward silence hung between you both for a moment as you stood on the sidewalk, the last rays of the sun casting long shadows on the pavement. Xavier shifted his weight from one foot to the other, clearly wanting to say something but unsure how to proceed. 

He cleared his throat nervously and rubbed the back of his neck again. “So, I was thinking…Maybe we could grab dinner sometime while you’re here? Catch up properly?” He chuckled, an apparent attempt at hiding his nerves. 

You felt your face grow warm as you bit the inside of your cheek, attempting to contain the smile that threatened to break out. Of all the times he could have asked you out in school…

“Sure,” You stammered. “It’s been a while since we’ve just talked.”

“No, I mean, sorry -” Xaviers' eyebrows furrowed. “You know, like…a date?” 

“A date?” you repeated in surprise. 

Your laughter bubbled out of you as you looked away. After worrying for so long about being alone forever, it was strange to hear someone offer themselves to you in a way that wasn’t hinting at anything sexual—especially someone who you used to have feelings for in your youth. A tiny thrill of hope-filled your stomach. But then the guilt was quick to rush in, along with shame. It weighs on your spine and makes you force in a breath. 

You met his gaze earnestly. “Are you sure?”

“Uh, well, why wouldn’t I be? You don’t think it would be awkward, would it?” 

You shook your head, trying to push away any doubt or insecurities that threatened to overwhelm you. “No, no, it’s not that. I just…” You trailed off. 

Xavier's expression softened, and he gently touched your arm. “Y/N, it’s fine. We don’t have to. I just thought it might be nice to spend some time together, you know? No pressure.” 

You nodded, grateful for his understanding and that he was still as sweet as the day you graduated. You also didn’t want to ignore the part of you that still felt like a teenager, the small voice that begged you to say yes. 

“I’d love to go out with you, sure.” You gave in and reached into your pocket, retrieving your phone and holding it out. “Can you send a text to yourself?” 

He accepted it and began typing with his thumbs, the bright screen casting a glow on his nose. Once he was finished, he handed it back to you. 

You tucked your phone back into your pocket, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. Despite the heaviness in your heart, the prospect of a ‘date’ seemed to lift your spirits, if only a little bit. 

“I should probably get going,” Xavier said, glancing up toward the sky. “Early start at the shop tomorrow.” He looked as if he was about to say more but then seemed to think better of it. “I’ll text you soon about dinner, okay?” 

You nodded. “Sure. See you later.” 

Xavier gave a small wave and stepped off the curb to cross the street. When he was around the corner and out of sight, you felt the embrace of the fall evening again, and everything around you went silent.

Until you heard the gentle sound of a piano resounding from inside the rec center, the front door was still partially open, and the chords flowed from somewhere within; the melody was haunting and gentle. Sticking your hands in your pockets, you headed up the cement steps into the building, pushing the squeaky door open a bit more as you were greeted by the soft, dimly lit lobby. You followed the sound to one of the rooms in the back. 

Father Sylus was too focused, slender fingers moving across the keys and producing that haunting melody that you couldn’t quite put your finger on what it was. Yet, you found it strangely comforting. Your feet remembered how to move, stepping forward and muffled by the thick carpet and the perfect rhythm. 

You finally recognized the tune, and a slight snort escaped your nostrils. You had been trying to find where you had heard the hymn before, but it wasn’t a hymn; it was Music of the Night from Phantom of the Opera. 

He caught your eye and abruptly stopped playing, and even though you tried to suppress your amusement, he must have noticed because a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth - one that made it hard for you not to smile back. 

“I didn’t realize anyone was there.” He stated, posture stiff as he sat up straighter, making you wonder if you had interrupted him. What you really should have done was not be nosy and go home. But no, now you were forced to speak to him. 

“You, uh, a fan of musicals?” You chuckled a bit, taking in his expression - one of a man caught doing something they would have preferred someone not seeing. But there was something deeper to it as his expression darted to another part of the room and left yours as if looking for an excuse for something completely different. 

Father Sylus cleared his throat, running a hand back through his hair. “I’ve…seen some here and there.” He moved down on the piano bench, patting the spot next to him. “Sit if you’d like.” 

Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it. 

But you went over, settling onto the cool leather of the bench, arms folded. The sheet music for Amazing Grace that had been taped in place for years was slightly curled up in the corners and soft with age. It was a relic that someone had likely tried to care for, but there were pencil smudges. You reached out and tapped a key absentmindedly, just as a distraction from how close in proximity you now were to Father Sylus. 

“That was, uh, really good.” You spoke, crossing your legs at your ankles and tucking them under the bench. “I never really caught on to the music stuff.” 

“I can’t take all the credit.” He gave a small chuckle, watching your movements, hands now folded perfectly in his lap, and his eyes settled back on the keys and the markings someone had left on the notes. “I did take piano lessons up until college.” 

“What did you study?” You felt compelled to ask this question. Mainly because all your prior talks have been surface-level, skimming the waters of who you both were. But sitting here next to him, you caught on to his confidence, an educated air. 

“Music theory,” he replied, the words soft and straightforward. You watched his body language. While his posture remained still, he moved a hand around in front of him in a ‘roll over’ motion. “Then eventually theology, religion, philosophy. Mostly, I wasn’t sure what I would do in the future.” 

“So one day you woke up and said, ‘I’m gonna be a priest?’” You joked, not waiting for a response before formulating your next question. “If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you? You don’t seem that old.” 

“Twenty-eight.” He told you, turning his head to look toward the stacked chairs against the walls. “I didn’t expect to end up where I am. I think that’s what often happens in life, though. You don’t have a plan ahead of time, or perhaps, have the expectations of something that doesn’t always end up as a concrete idea." He chuckled, "Like studying music theory.” 

“And your family was on board with it?” You asked. 

“More or less. Sometimes, I still wonder, if I had to do it again, would I?” 

Your brow arched curiously at his questions of himself, the wonderingness of his tone. 

“That’s a little deep for a regular Tuesday evening.” You managed a half-smirk, trying not to invade his space with the turn your conversation had taken. 

“Is there a set day for discussions such as these?” He countered, turning to look at you, red eyes almost glinting in challenge. His tone was almost teasing, and nerves sparked in your belly. 

“I think late Saturday evenings work,” you decided with a short hum, “Though I hear Sunday mornings are very convenient.” 

“That’s fair.” He mused with a short laugh. 

Taking a risk, you let the urge grip you and reached out, laying a hand on his arm. For a moment, the touch felt wrong, the thoughts swirling. But it was almost too perfect, the way he was just sitting there. Then it hit you what you were doing, and you pulled your hand away. 

“Sorry,” you sputtered. “I’m sorry, that was so inappropriate.” 

“No, it wasn’t,” he insisted, still looking at you. You looked away, unable to keep eye contact and rubbing your arm nervously. 

“No, it was,” you murmured. You felt ridiculous, getting way too close to the goddamn priest. You wanted to smack yourself with the disappointment that you’d just tried to flirt without realizing it. “I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me lately.” 

“You’re human,” he stated, and his expression was sincere as you looked back at him. “There’s something about you,” he tried to smile, but it fell flat. Instead, a slight frown formed, an almost curious look coming into his features. “Nothing’s wrong with you, truly.” His voice faltered, nearly a whisper at the end, and he laughed gently. “You’re just flawed; everyone is.” His eyes went back to the piano keys. “Even God himself isn’t perfect.” 

“I…guess that’s true.” 

Your eyes prickled. There was nothing truly remarkable about what he had said, but you dug your nails into the fabric of your jeans as you remembered your mother. You took a slow, steadying breath to try and stop the tears from coming, from recalling all those unanswered questions. 

Because, like everything else that had happened in your life recently, it was vague - only a tingle of existence in a reality that didn’t feel entirely real. One that couldn’t have been planned out by a force you couldn’t see but were supposed to feel yet hadn’t in a very long time. 

A hot tear escaped as you focused on the wall behind the piano, your voice cracked as you sought to get out an explanation for your sudden emotion. “I can’t - I did something and can’t tell you.” You sucked a shaky breath as you shuffled on the bench with the intent to stand. “Something really messed up, and I -” 

You were stopped by Father Sylus reaching a hand out, catching your own in a grasp that felt like a flame. A grasp that broke your words as you looked at his hand around your own. When you were finally able to meet his gaze, his features were relaxed and patient, willing you to speak. 

“I can’t tell you,” you repeated. “If I tell you, it means that it’s real and he exists and I - I potentially ruined everything and that I’m just a slut and a homewrecker and a sinner and I’ll go to Hell and -” 

“Stop.” 

It was a single word. Uttered with such confidence, it made you go still, frozen, and quiet, save for the deep breath you now forced yourself to take that didn’t entirely fill your lungs. You worried briefly that you’d scared the man away with your panicky ramblings. But he simply held your now trembling hand in his. Constant. Grounding. It was enough to make you realize the depth of emotion he spoke with. 

“I’m sorry.” You forced out the words, glancing down at the floor and how his feet were directly towards the piano, his attention again on the instrument. Your next question found its way past the tightness in your chest, a sudden flare of hot guilt welling. You knew the answer; it was all fire and brimstone either way and perhaps you were looking for sympathy with how he could answer in his calm and smooth voice. “What does the Bible say about adultery?” You asked.

Father Sylus may have been of the same religion. Responsible for leading the good people of this town from whatever chaos they experienced in their personal lives, or at least not eating meat on Ash Wednesday. Still, he sat silent for a while before finally turning to you. 

“I’m afraid if you’ve come to me for forgiveness, you’ll receive none from me.” 

“And what the fuck is your problem?” You stood, anger and resentment rising quickly. You crossed your arms over your chest and glanced at the ceiling. “Your whole job is to - guide people!  Something, instead -” 

“I can’t.” He stated firmly, standing and taking a step back from you. “Because I’m guilty, too.” 

“I beg your fucking pardon?” Your body tensed as you watched him suck in a sharp breath and grip at his hair, tangling his fingers through the silky strands. 

“I’m sorry,” he spoke softer now, another exhale and another step back. “I am, Y/N.” The way he spoke now was measured, perhaps even a bit apprehensive. “We all make mistakes. We all sin. Especially me.”

He looked at you, his crimson eyes burning into yours. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you, Y/N. I haven’t been able to stop.” 

His whole body tensed at his confession. The silence hung between you, heavy, and you realized he was waiting for your response... Not just waiting, but needing your response.  

“Why?” You breathed out, heart thudding loud enough in your chest for you to feel it. “If you felt that way, why -” You paused, deciding to let yourself admit the truth. “ I - I’ve been thinking about you, too.” 

The truth made your face feel hot and filled you with the most dreadful sense of shame and need - something inside you longing. You couldn’t fight the urge to keep talking, unable to hold back. “Maybe I’m just too messed up in the head. I need some fucking validation that every relationship isn’t destined to end up in disappointment that I create. Convince myself I’m more than a sex-crazed person or something.” 

You wanted to say more. You tried to open up and let it all out, but you were caught as you looked into his eyes. Ones that, for a fraction of a second, not easily caught, seemed to mirror yours as he allowed himself to come closer. 

It was impossible to stop yourself from stepping closer. The warm hand that reached out and cupped your cheek made any rational thought simply vanish from your mind. But you did manage to ask your question, albeit a little breathlessly: “What am I supposed to do?” 

“You’re asking the wrong person.” Father Sylus released a quivering breath, hand moving down your cheek to cup your jaw, but the grip wasn’t firm or demanding but - careful. Almost hesitant. 

Tilting your head slightly, the kiss was light – just the sweetest brush of heat. It sent a jolt along your skin, making it almost impossible for you not to melt into the action. 

“Please,” you heard him beg, whimpering against your mouth as he pulled back just a fraction, “please tell me that I’m not a monster for this.” His voice was husky and tinged with desperation. It sends a surge of heat straight to your core.

“No.” You found the word as you pulled back, locking your gaze. “You’re not.” 

The vulnerability he exudes is incredible, the words he speaks settling like a stone in your stomach as you process them. You found yourself torn between desire and shame. It was a feeling not unlike what you felt when you had first started seeing - 

You stepped back, releasing the hold as breath reached your lungs in a much shorter supply. How was this any different? This was far worse, if anything. 

“I - I can’t do this again.” You admitted, and in a way, your own words were painful. 

The priest didn’t move from his spot, brow furrowing in confusion. “I’m sorry, did I -” He raised a hand, not touching but hovering over your arm like he meant to. His expression was ridden with anxiety now, perhaps worry. 

His uncertainty made it all the more confusing. 

“I thought…” You stammered, unable to collect the fragments of your thoughts. “I thought that…I don’t know what’s going on.” You swallowed the lump forming in your throat.  

You took another step back, fighting the fear that encased your ribs, the twist in your gut. It was not because of his presence but what was coming to the surface now, whatever feeling was developing. “I have to go,” you breathed. 

“Wait, Y/N.” Father Sylus lifted his hands helplessly, his voice turning back to the one that offered guidance, eyes scanning the floor momentarily before looking back up. “You’re not the only one that feels or gives into things they’re not supposed to.” His brow creased while his eyes glinted with a sudden passion. He shifted his weight and stuffed a hand into his pocket, the other swooping the air lightly as he continued as if he needed to move his hand to formulate his words. “It..It doesn’t make you a monster.” This last statement was said with a sudden firmness. 

“Maybe not.” You replied, the head of tears forming a blurry haze at the edges of your vision. “But, no matter what we want - there will always be constraints.” The nightmarish cloud that had begun to permeate your mind ceased. “How do I keep ending up in these situations?” You forced out a laugh. “Is this what God wants for me?” 

“I don’t know.” His face took on a solemn expression as he swallowed harshly and cleared his throat. “The only thing I know is that…Whatever happened before, whatever you did,” he sucked in a sharp, sudden breath—no more nervous shifting. “Regardless of the sin you confessed, I don’t believe you to be a monster. Do you hear me? I’m telling you you’re not.” 

You looked at the deep set of his expression, the tender way he reached his hand up and tapped it against his chest right over his heart. The sentiment made a new swell of warmth radiate from him. He looked so earnest as he smiled, making your skin prickle again. 

“T-Thank you.” You answered him slowly, a small wave of unease settling as you struggled to respond. “That’s…very kind of you to say.” 

You weren’t sure if you should take his words as comfort or not as you turned, intending to leave, but there was no doubt in your mind that you felt slightly different from hearing them. “Have a good evening, Father.” 

“Wait.” A sudden neediness in the soft plea made you want to scream. 

Taking a deep breath and holding it tight, your eyes clamped shut, and for some reason, you were almost terrified to look back. You were terrified because you wanted to stay there, touch him, and claim every inch of him, body and soul. 

Something settled, the overwhelmed feeling easing into sadness, and you turned to him, tears clouding your vision. 

“What would it take to ease your pain?” He asked, watching the tears roll along the curve of your jaw as he waited for an answer. His expression had turned hopeful, as if he might be able to do something beyond everything else. He had asked the question like he genuinely wanted to know the answer. 

“I don’t know.” You forced your mouth to move. The words were honest, and the agony was unrelenting. 

Without waiting for a response, you turned and left. 

Tag list: @celestialforce

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[jakesflora]

Forgive Me.

Jake Kiszka Priest AU

word count: 2.1k

you have a confession.

warnings: smut, sacrilegious.

You never missed a Sunday, being a catholic was all you knew, since you were a child and your parents dragged you and your brothers to church bright and early every sunday. You had heard news among the grapevine that there was a new priest coming, to take over for Father James, as he was getting older and needed to retire. You were dressed in your finest attire, to meet the new priest, dressed in a pretty black skirt, with a white sweater to cover up as much skin as possible. Your heels click on the stairs as you walk up to the doors of  the church, the older ladies greeting you as you walk in. Father James, was standing at the end of the pews, greeting you with a smile, “Very nice to see your face this morning, Y/N” you sent him a warm and welcoming smile, he had always been nice to you. Everyone had been speculating why exactly he was leaving, some people said it was because he needed to retire, others said he committed blasphemy and he's no longer able to be a preacher. Rumor has it, the new father is much younger, and less experienced, but he was in fact a very holy man according to most. You took your seat at your normal spot, three rows back, towards the middle of the aisle. The ushers at the back, shut the doors as you heard the familiar bell start to ring, signaling that the service is starting. Father James walked in from the back of the church, followed by a young man, his hair was a medium shade of brown, and his eyebrows were slightly furrowed as his brown eyes scoped out the many pews filled with people. Father James, cleared his throat and spoke into the mic, “This brings me pure sadness to say, but this will be my last sermon with you all. It's been lovely to get to know you all, this will be your new father,” the man raised his hand from beside him, sending all of us a wave. “His name is Jake, but you may call him Father Jake, he will be around after the sermon, to ask questions and hold confessionals if you would need one, may god be with you all.” and with that he started his normal trek on about god, and his disciples.

After he finishes speaking, he bids you all goodbye, telling you all once again that the new Father Jake would be available in the confessional room if needed. A ping of guilt flashed into your eyes knowing good and well there were things you never felt quite comfortable telling Father James given he was so much older and wiser than you. After mostly everyone had cleared out from the pews and were now just standing outside talking amongst each other, you trotted your way down the narrow hallway towards the back of the church. Hidden in the back corner was the confession room, where most women had spent most of their time with Father James telling him about the urges they had to do something most people would say is unholy, and by most people meaning the catholic church. You gently placed a knock on the door, the knocks echoing in the hallway as you did so. “You may come in,” you heard from the other side of the door, doing as the man said, you turned the knob and opened the door. Once inside there he sat, the man you have come to know as Father Jake. He cleared his throat and spoke up, “How may I help you today?” as you walked your way over to the chair in front of his desk, you felt as if his eyes were burning holes into your body, into your flesh, and you weren't sure exactly how to feel about it. In fact, maybe it was all just in your head. You sat down in the chair across from him, crossing your legs like a proper lady. “I’ve come to confess some…urges, if you will.” the nerves were evident in your voice, but in a way you did not feel ashamed, he seemed young enough to understand how it is to be a person your age and feel the things you feel, as he couldn’t be over thirty years old. 

“Ah yes, what would those urges be…? What's your name? I did not catch it.” he spoke, sorting out papers clattered about the wooden desk top table. “My names y/n” you said, a small smile upon your face. “Lovely to meet you father.” he looked up from his papers, once again looking at you like something was severely wrong with you, so you just continued to speak. “The urges father, they get so hard to fight sometimes, I've always wondered how it felt, the feeling must be good enough for so many people to stray away from their beliefs because of it.” he was listening to you quite intently, playing with the cross rosary that was once clad to his chest, now gripped in his hands, his brow furrowed. “The feeling of what y/n? What is this feeling that you are so ashamed of?” You shifted in your seat, almost in a way kind of scared to tell him what it is that you’re truly feeling. “Well Um..,” you were fiddling with the ruffles of your skirt, trying not to make eye contact as the thought of saying these words to someone, a holy man like him, seems so wrong. “I wonder what being touched by another feels like, and I know it's against the rules, and in no way am I rebelling but there's something that's so interesting about it.” with the last bit of that sentence you grew the urge to finally look up at him, to meet his brown eyes. His eyes were dark, and it was almost scary, he looked almost.. evil? You didn’t quite know the word for it. “So you think, that the touch of another is enough to break your vows to the church, your vows to the lord?” He now stood up, the vestment he was wearing now straightening up around his waist, and the rosary now falling back to its original place. He was now towering over you, his hand coming up to hold your chin in his hands, “Is that what you’re telling me, sweet y/n?” Your mouth had slightly parted, any spit that was in your mouth has now dried up, swallowing hard to the best of your abilities. “I…I’m sorry father I just.” With a jerk of your chin he cut you off. “Say no more, I've heard enough. It's time to confess your sins before the lord.” He pulls you up out of the chair, with one pull of your arm. Standing beside him now, you realized how much larger he was than you, how much stronger he was. He pointed to the back of the room, where there was a large painting of Jesus on the wall. “Go to him, get on your knees before him, and beg for forgiveness for even thinking such a thing.” He dropped your chin, your legs shaking as you walked over to the painting and did exactly as he told you to do, now rested upon your knees in front of the painting. You heard his feet behind you, and the door lock click as he made his way over to you meaning he in fact locked the two of you in here. There was a feeling in between your thighs that you had never quite felt before, why is it happening now? What even is it? You heard the scraping of a chair on the wooden floor, his chair now beside you as he sat down in it. He grabbed your hair roughly, pulling your head back to look at him. “Do you feel forgiven my dear? I think I know another way you could be forgiven.” The rasp in his voice is much more evident now than it was earlier. “Let me show you.” He grabbed your hand, placing it on his crotch, rubbing it slowly as he let out a low groan. “What are you doing Father? This isn't right.” he refused to let your hand go, still making you rub his now growing cock. “Isn't it though sweetheart? Let me show you how it feels to be touched, while the lord is watching us.” the feeling between your thighs grew tenfold, immediately complying to what he was saying and doing. He lifted up his vestment, taking off the pants he was wearing underneath it. Exposing the cock that was now hard at the thought of taking your innocence and ruining it.

 Turns out Jake wasn’t a holy man at all, now was he? “Now let's take off that pretty little skirt of yours that I've been looking at all day.” He lifted you up off your knees, ripping off the skirt that was once what was hiding the wetness of your panties from him and the rest of the world. “That's what i'm talking about, look how pretty you are angel,You're an angel sent from the lord himself.” all you could do was whine, no words came to mind minus the thought of him touching you. He pulled your panties to the side and ran his finger up and down the slit of your pussy, playing in the pile of wetness that has gathered upon your clit. He smirked, knowing good and well that all of this was for him, he lifted his fingers up to his mouth with your wetness still coating them, popping them in his mouth. “Oh angel, you taste so good. I just want another taste.” that did not stop you from grinding your hips on his still hardening cock noticing that the friction felt really good. He wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you safely in the air as he walked you over to his desk, where he laid you down before getting on his knees himself. He pulled you right to the edge, so that his mouth was now level to your cunt, as he began to lick gently at the sensitive nub between your folds, now not being able to keep the moans of his holy name from slipping your mouth. He gripped your thighs so rough that there was going to absolutely be bruises as he completely devoured your dripping cunt. Your hands now tangled in the brown hair that you had watched walk in earlier, legs wrapping around his head not wanting this to ever end. He smirked into your wetness like a cocky son of a bitch before adding two fingers into the mix now working them in and out of you with a quick motion. Your back begins to arch off the desk at all the feelings he was making you feel. You felt a low burning sensation in the bottom of your stomach, “Father I--” was all you were able to say before he completely stopped. “Not yet, I want you to cum on my cock, I want you to bless me with your cum little dove” 

You looked down at him, now watching him stand up and pump his cock a couple of times, pushing the hair out of his face as it was stuck to his forehead with a mix of your wetness and sweat. “Now, this might hurt angel, but I promise it will feel great in the end.” That was the only warning he gave you before he slammed his cock into your little innocent pussy that's never taken cock before in its life, much less a man the size of him. He let out moans of your name as he slid his cock in and out of you, all you could do was whimper as he ruined you, taking the one thing that you were told to keep as long as you could, away from you, but god almighty did it feel good. Your nails dug into his back, leaving scratch marks as the rosary around his neck dangled in your face. His hand reaching up and grasping hard at your neck as he squeezed as hard as possible. “Dirty little slut, how dare you do this? You’re ruined.” he spat, smacking at your cheek as gently as possible. You felt the feeling once again building in your lower stomach, “Father I-- I.” you could hardly get out words. “Bless me angel, give it to me” was all he had to say before you were writhing in pleasure around his cock. Which was enough to send him over the edge as well, filling up your now fucked out pussy with his cum as he slowly slowed down his pace before pulling out of you completely. He placed a kiss on your forehead, “Consider yourself forgiven, in my eyes.” 

[faghubby]

It started that summer

"can I touch it?" Jen asked. As she peeked around the tree and was now staring at my dick.

"What? No! Stay over there" I yelled while my dick got hard.

"Wow, does it always do that?" Jen asked ignoring me she touched my dick.

"It feels wierd" she giggled.

"No it doesn't stop it" I yelled again but all the time staring at her small budding breast.

"It's okay go pee, I will hold it for you" Jen smiled

"I can't" I said defeated

"Don't be shy" Jen laughed.

"It's not that, you can't pee when it's hard" I explained like how did everyone not know that.

"Really that's wierd" she caressed my balls as well.

"Now can you go over there so I can pee" I asked. She smiled and walked away. It took several minutes before I could pee. And as soon as I did I got hard again as I thought about what had just happened.

Jen and I went to the catholic school but she was a grade behind me. We lived in a small town and all of the kids around our had gone to camp for the summer or vacation with family. Jen and I weren't friends really. But at 12 that's no reason to not hang out. We'll Jen was 11. Both her parents worked. Well, so did mine. But my sister who was 15 was home. So her parents had asked her not really to babysit. Maybe keep an eye out. Which basicly meant call an ambulance if she got hurt. So when Jen showed up at my door this morning I figured what the hell. And we rode bikes and I took her in the woods to check out our tree house. Me and some of the guys had built. It was crap but nothing better to do.

I had stopped to pee behind a tree when Jen had decided to have a peek.

"You should let me see yours" I told Jen when I was done peeing.

"I don't think so" Jen said.

"It's only fair" I complained.

"How about I show you my tits" she offered.

"Really, cool" I said.

"Stand there" she told me then pulled up her shirt and white bra. There I was staring at real boobs. I went to step closer. She quickly pulled her shirt down.

"No fair you touched me" I whined.

"To bad" she said. We headed down the trail I followed her watching her ass the whole way. Thinking about her differently then I ever had. We reached the tree house and I helped her climb up.

"Can I kiss you?" I asked

"Why?" She asked sceptical

"I don't know I just want to try it" I explained.

"Have you ever kissed anyone before?" Jen asked

"No, I mean my mom." I told her.

"Okay, but hands to yourself" she told me, and she stood and kissed me on the lips.

"Do you want to touch me again?" I asked shyly. She thought about it.

"Does it you know spit" Jen asked. I nodded shyly.

"Will you show me" Jen asked. Without thinking I moved a wooden box and pulled out a lingerie magazine that one of my friends had swiped from his mom. I pulled my shorts down and started to jerk off to the pics.

"I looked up and saw Jen looking down at the magazine.

"This is what you look at?" She asked confused.

"Well you wouldn't show me yours." I said

"Wait, if I do you have to swear not to tell anyone"

"I swear." I told her.

"Okay no touching either." Jen pulled down her shorts. Exposing her white panties with little flowers all over them.

"That's it?" I ask

"The woman in the magazine are in their underwear" she told me. I shrugged and started to jerk off to her.

"Bend over show me your butt" I said and was surprised when she did. Just as I started to cum.

"That was kinda cool" Jen said.

"Paul, you can, I mean if you want. She couldn't say it she just grabbed my hand and placed it under her shirt on her boob. She didn't stop me when I slid under her bra either.

"Alright that's enough" she pushed me away. My shorts where still around my ankles. She touched me again.

"Not a word" she made me swear. I kept our secret. This made us become close. Even after the summer was over. As months and years passed. She allowed me on very special occasions to repeat our afternoon. Bending over and allowing me to actually cum on her panties. She also would experiment things somewhat with me. Giving me my first handjob. She also tasted my cum at one point. We would discuss. Boys she liked, or girls I liked. We taught each other to kiss. And at 16. She asked me to go down on her. She taught me by telling me what felt good as I pleased her with my tounge. But she would not put me in her mouth. A year later she told me she had sucked my friends cock. She also told me he was much bigger then I was. By the time I was heading off to university I was still a virgin. Not having more then kissed a girl other then Jen. While Jen had a very active sex life. She often told me about it in detail. As years passed we stayed in touch. Even when Jen moved to the other side of the country.

Now 24 and still a virgin. Just didn't seem to be able to close the deal with a woman. I dated but often became their friends instead of their lovers. Jen came for a visit. It had been almost a year since we saw each other. I must of been staring or something.

"You want to do it don't you?" Jen asked she didn't wait for an answer she bent over my table and pulled her pants down. I stared at her ass. She wore a thong. It was her actual ass. I pulled out my dick and jerked off. Jen pushed backwards rubbing her ass against my dick. I came all over her ass. Jen then flipped over and sat on the table. I knelt and ate her pussy. I had missed this so much.

After I made her cum with my tounge she stripped removing her shirt and bra. She had a tattoo on her left breast. She stood completely naked in front of me.

"Would you like to marry me?" She asked. "I will never let you have me. I love that you are mine. Never been with anyone. Want you to stay innocent." She told me.

"Would you? Be my virgin husband." She teased she removed my shirt.

"Idon't, i mean i love you. I always have" was all I could bring myself to say.

"It would be okay, I would find lovers to fuck me. Maybe even give us children" Jen continued. She continued to strip me naked we stood naked looking at each other. Jen knelt and liked my dick which was now throbbing hard again. She cupped my balls but then stood as her hands ran over my ass and up my back.

"I will let you play with yourself while you look at me whenever you want. But I will never kiss that little thing again. Or ever let it inside me." Jen said. "On special occasions I might use my hand though" she said as she stroked me with two fingers.

"Yes" I moaned.

"Yes?" She asked. "Paul will you promise to remain my virgin husband and love me for the rest of your life?" She asked. I dropped to my knees.

"Jen will you marry me" I asked

"Yes" she said pushing my head back into her crotch. I ate her till she came a second time. She then stroked me till I came all over her thigh.

We then called and told our parents. No one was surprised my mother had assumed we would wind up together ever since high school. I changed my life quite my job and moved across the country with her.i took a job making a lot less money. But Jen did well so we where fine, Jen also worked alot of hours so I took on most of the domestic duties.

"You don't mind do you?" Jen would tease. "It's not like you're a real man" she reminded me. She would come home and tell me about her lovers in great detail. I bowed to her will more and more. Wearing what she wanted me to wear, cutting my hair lime she liked it. There was nothing I wouldn't do. So when she had meshave my legs because they where scratchy when we cuddled. Or pierce my ears because ot looked so cute. It wasn't a big stretch when she came home one night from meeting someone.

"He didn't make me cum" she said frustrated. "You always make me cum" she told me. "Would you help me cum" she asked as she pulled her panties off. They where covered in cum.

"Jen I can't" I told her.

"Yes you can, for me" I gave in and licked her used pussy. It was strange and salty but mixed with her juices it soon passed I didn't stop until she bucked against my face.

'That was the best ever" she praised and gave me a handjob. When she was done she raised her fingers to my mouth. Without thinking I opened my mouth and licked my own cum off of them.

After that night nothing was to far it seemed. She convinced me to shave off the rest of my body hair. That I would like to wear panties because I loved how they felt when I rubbed up against hers. Licking her clean happened a few more times then everytime. My hair grew out, and everything about me softened. When I complained

"OH sweety, I am not making you a woman. Just a soft virgin husband. I don't want people thinking you have a say in our marriage" she told me. As our wedding date approached. I realized my true place was to be. Nothing was very traditional she even wrote my vows for me.

I promise to worship. serve, obey. Where all key points. She arranged two rooms for the honeymoon. And invited one of her lovers along.

My tux was a peach color that matched the bridesmaids dresses. While my best man and ushers wore black. Because they where real men.

My father skipped the wedding but my mother thought I looked beautiful. My sister blushed when asked about the Bachelorette party. I didn't attend my bachelor party. Jen didn't want me looking at other woman. But I was told it was a wild night.

Now about to turn 30 been married for 3 years and Jen is pregnant with our daughter. Jen tells me not to worry to much the sperm donor looked kinda like me.

[slocumjoe]

What do you think the companions opinions of ghosts and supernatural things are?

You know, I've actually done this before, years back!

Looking back on it now, I have some differing ideas, having spent more time really thinking these dudes over and writing about them. So,

COMPANIONS AND SPIRITUALITY 2; ELECTRIC BOOGALOO

Cait; Surprises herself when she realizes this, but she believes in God. Not just agnostic, she believes in the Christian God. It never occurred to her until one day, when she caught herself and realizes that this was the belief she held. Her parents weren't religious, so it didn't make any damn sense to her. She just sorta defaulted to it. Obviously, Cait is not religious, but yeah, she kinda assumed a Christian mindset. Just never cared. Once she catches herself, becomes staunch atheist, but that shift was sudden and kind of wobbly. Its a "Wait, what do I actually believe in?" moment. As for cryptids, no. Maybe ones before the war. But as for the post apocalypse, anything is possible, so, why bother with trying to make it all mysterious?

Curie; Avid hater of cryptids and Aliens, but fascinated by religion. You ask her for her opinions on the topic, and she'll break off into a sociological discussion of the nature of religion and faith, and what's she's noticed in the apocalyptic modern era. You ask her if she believes in religion, and you can see her eyes go all blue screen of death, Ms. Nanny body or no. For one, the Ms. Nanny programming would never allow her to form an opinion on that. For two, the programming also kind of held everything in place. In a synth form, where her brain is looking for her own answer, but her instinct/programming remnant is looking for coded-in pre-recorded responses...it's a good way to send her into a kind of crisis. The move from metal to meat doesn’t do her any favors, here.

Danse; A loose agnostic. He sees no need to argue about it, but he doesn't believe, but he also doesn't...disagree? Danse's stance here is "we'll never know so what's the point." He tried religion, and he'll pray in...dire circumstances...but if you ask, he'll call himself an atheist. He'll also go into the sociology and go all nerd on you, but where Curie almost physically can't have an opinion, Danse doesn't have one and doesn't feel the need for one. If he needs God to be real, he'll hope for it. Otherwise, nah.

Deacon; would fuck with Buddhism. Would be that annoying dude at the Whole Foods check out buying hummus who holds the cashier at obligation-point to talk about karma. Normally this would be a Deaconism, an inside joke. Not here. This is a genuine Deacon. He'd also be very interested in all religions, but Buddhism is the one he's most likely to consider, if not partake in. Aliens and cryptids? Uh...Deacon likes to have fun, so yeah, but he's probably not a hardcore believer. He's just being a silly goose. Will double down and go full tinfoil hat to be obnoxious, but doesn't really put stock in it.

Gage; nah and nah. He was raised catholic and it didn't take. Or, maybe it took too well, or in the wrong way, depending on your perspective. He still privately considers Sunday to be special, but he doesn't act on it. Cryptids, also nah. Same reason as Cait. Have you seen what radiation does to animals? To people? Why the fuck would anything be surprising? "There was a giant moth the size of a man on my house!" Shit, that means the runoff from the nuclear power plant from up north has reached the watering holes. "I saw a large, hairy man!" That was probably Gage himself. Fuck sake. "There was a man with a goat head!" Thats a Pack member, which is arguably worse than what you think you saw.

Hancock; Religious in the traumatized way. The begging for God to kill you if you deserve to die but nothing happens, so clearly death is too good for you, kind of religious. Hancock has mental breakdowns in churchs, screaming at the remains of the cross in the middle of the burnt pews. Hancock is religous when thematically appropriate and suitably unhinged. Cryptids, he likes the fun of it, but seriously, if Hancock starts mentioning God and crucifixion, you need to check on him.

MacCready; Hardcore no on the religion, hardcore yes on the cryptids. This man would have Bigfoot bumper stickers. He would be on the reddit threads. I don't even know what to write here. Do I need to justify? You know. You know MacCready is a Bigfoot truther. Aliens? Don't talk to Bob about aliens. He'll hold you hostage in a story about the time he went camping up in [insert North Eastern Forest Here] and definitely saw [insert North Eastern Alien of Cultural Importance Here]. This man would go ghost busting.

Nick; religious, but like, very low key about it. He's not a praying man, but he does think the Big Man Upstairs exists. Mostly because there's so many times in his life where he's certain someone is laughing at him, and whatever dumb situation he's gotten himself into now. Does go to church every so often, and steps lighter in the ruins he finds. Aliens? Nope. Cryptids? Nope. Ghosts? Yeah, absolutely. He doesn't buy into those haunted house attractions, but he believes in the afterlife, and that some folks might get lost on their way there.

Piper; no religion. No aliens. No cryptids. Hard facts or fuck off. At least, thats what she says. But the moment something rattles in the basement at 2 in the morning? Piper is superstitious. She doesn't believe, but she's not gonna play chicken with demonic possession or alien abduction. Now, she has some ghost stories, but she doesn't think they're ghost stories. "Yeah, turned out the person I'd been talking to was legally dead for 30 years. Kinda weird." "Piper." "Say its a ghost and I'm throwing my drink at you. Who doesn't fake their death every once in a while?"

Preston; raised religious but didn't take. It's not that he believes in ghosts, it's that Preston has a good head on his shoulders. This man Knows when Something Is Wrong. Preston might not have the highest PER, but he knows when to get the fuck out of somewhere. Aliens, cryptids, whatever. Preston doesn't even know if ghosts are real. He just knows that some places don't forget what happened to them. If you're ever in a weird location, use him as a "back in the car right fucking now" meter.

X6-88; no religion, aliens, or cryptids, whatever. However. Very prone to believing tall tales. Myths. Legends. Mothman? Genuinely thought that was just a species of moth. He thinks they're bullshit, provided the info is being provided with air of literalness. If you open with "yeah, there's this story of a giant half man, half moth creature," he knows its a story. If you go, "There's a giant moth from Virginia that eats people", that's just what moths are like. Why would he assume there isn't a carnivorous moth? Gets very, very upset whenever someone pulls one over on him like this. By someone, I mean Deacon. Its always Deacon.

[marshmallowprotection]

out of curiosity why do you hc rika as a lesbian? :)

I don't know many people in this fandom who don't headcanon Rika as a lesbian, to be honest with you. In fact, it's been a long time since I've seen anyone write her any other way.

In my eyes, I've always read into Rika as someone who reflected on her sexuality later in life because her traumatic experience with the Catholic church made her bury anything about herself that didn't fit with whatever the church believed (I.E. the Pastor and her Abusive Parents).

How could she think about who she liked when she had to focus on surviving? How could she think about having crushes and having a normal childhood when all she knew was suffering? How could she openly experience crushes when her family would've hurt her for it? Rika knew that openly expressing anything that went against what the church and her abusive parents believed would hurt her. She'd learned to try and keep quiet and stay small, but even that couldn't protect her.

She never thought about her romantic feelings for others growing up. She didn't think she was worthy of love! Had she been able to grow in a safe, warm environment, I think it would've been easier for her to sit down and reflect on her feelings towards other people enough to see that she was sapphic. That she had feelings for girls instead of boys. That she felt like herself around other girls and wanted to explore it more freely.

Rika yearned to be loved her entire childhood, just as much as I think she yearned to love in return.

Rika was taught that she was the devil from a young age, a devil for simply existing as an orphan girl with trauma who could never make the adults who were hurting her happy, and she internalized so much self-hatred because of that. Her experience with love isn't healthy for the most part. She latched onto Jihyun Kim because she wanted the chance to become him. She wanted to be him. Her love for him, in my opinion, wasn't never her being "in love" with him.

Does that mean she didn't love him? No, I do think she loved him in her own way, but I don't think she was in IN LOVE with him.

Rather, Rika was in love with the idea of being in love with Jihyun and in love with the idea of becoming Jihyun. She wanted to love him, at first, especially, she wanted to be in love with him, she wanted a life with him, she wanted everything with him because he felt like a God and a Savior to her life that felt miserable up until that point, but the longer she spent with him, the less it felt like love and the more it felt like obsession.

She was in love with the idea of escaping her demons, and to her, V was her dream. If she could become him, she would no longer be the devil, she would be V, a savior, a sun, a perfect lift that could do not a single thing wrong.

I think it's very easy for a lot of people to look at Rika's story from the perspective of a closeted lesbian who grew up in an abusive Catholic household, who never had the opportunity to think about what she'd like out of life because her family made the decisions for her ahead of time, and anything that deviated from what they wanted would have her face their wrath.

I've had a few friends with the same story as Rika in that sense, they tried to follow the expectation their family set up for them. They tried to force themselves into that role and they were miserable because of that. They kept trying to be someone they weren't, and someone they could never be, and only when they were able to be honest with their feelings and what they knew in their heart, did things start to change for the better in their lives.

You can't force your way into being someone you're not. All you do is make yourself miserable in the process. The world would be a damn better place if we didn't have to deal with homophobia and the effect the Christian church has on young people who are told they will go to hell for simply loving someone. My family did and said a lot of things to me because of my sexuality, before I even understood who I was or my feelings, all because of people using the bible to spout vitriol and hatred.

It's miserable to have to live in hiding growing up, feeling like you have no choice but to hide away to learn and explore your feelings without the fear of someone screaming at you or worse. So, when I think about Rika, myself, and I know many others, look at Rika and find a sense of kinship.

Headcanons are just headcanons, after all. My viewing Rika as a lesbian brings me some comfort and it ain't hurting nobody.

[sepublic]

Anyhow, in lieu of a recent post, I kinda wanna apply it to another fandom and say this is the reason why I don't think Emmanuel is gonna redeem himself next season, not necessarily at least. Like yeah sure he FEELS bad but to him this is a test from God or whatever so that justifies everything.

He thinks he's someone who accounts for the long-term, unlike these revolutionaries who think only about improving their short-term mortal lives, and thus forsake their long-term afterlife in heaven in the process. Emmanuel think he's long-term and he's gonna outmaneuver Erzsebet, who will be so caught up in using his night creatures to crush the rebellion that she'll fail to account for what happens afterwards when Emmanuel can just turn on her. He thinks he's fucking Solomon with the ring that can control demons.

Emmanuel is just gonna bitch and moan and weep about all the sacrifices he's making but it's the GOOD kind of suffering, like how Christ had to suffer and make sacrifices, because it's a test from God. He compared himself to Abraham and he was even rewarded with a ram in Tera for his devotion!!! So he could absolutely interpret this as proof he's on the right path and double down.

Emmanuel is such a mediocre father. It's heartbreaking that for all of her teenage rage and rebellion, Maria still earnestly cares for him once she finds out he's her dad, she risks it all in trusting him because surely her own dad will come around for her, and she cares!!! She cares for family!!! And then Maria is burned so hard for that trust, she saw Emmanuel weep about sacrificing her and then do it anyway. Maria lost her own mother, a parent who actually cared, because she dared to assume her dad had the same basic decency as Tera did. She's gonna know better, the poor girl... But at what cost?

And Emmanuel is gonna be Oh Woe Is Me!!! when he sees what his beloved has become. But in the end his Christian savior complex matters more than anything else, even if he DOES care for other things. Because if he truly cared for Maria from the start, he'd have quit his position to focus on raising his daughter. But instead he continued to neglect her, and then endanger her with his night creatures, and then finally outright sacrifice Maria. Because being the Christian savior who saves everyone's immortal souls, at the low cost of their mortal lives, matters more. Like god he must've had a savior complex about providing Tera hospitality when they first met.

"You're not gonna spare them, are you?" Shut the fuck up Emmanuel you're gonna cry yourself to sleep over this and then the next morning decide that you've fulfilled your daily Catholic Guilt quota and can go back to being a dickhead because you feel bad so obviously that proves you're a good person right???

And from a meta standpoint, I suspect Emmanuel is the show's version of Shaft, who was a major villain who died resurrecting Dracula and successfully inflicted real damage against the Belmonts for like two hundred years. The similarities between Emmanuel and Shaft are too many and obvious, and it'd be redundant to introduce Shaft when Emmanuel is right there as the evil priest. I suspect they changed his name because Shaft has juvenile connotations in English that the Japanese creators who came up with Shaft weren't aware of, especially when pulling from the German language.

Granted, Isaac changed quite a bit from his game counterpart, as someone who DID die resurrecting Dracula in the source material; But otherwise, the creative liberties is further support for Emmanuel being Shaft in spite of the differences. I don't think Emmanuel will start worshipping Dracula as a coping method; The show kinda burned the bridge with Dracula as a villain, and there isn't really a meaningful connection nor reason for Emmanuel to latch onto that guy in particular.

More likely, he'll latch onto the demon (probably Galamoth) who gave him the forgemaster machine, and that demon will read Emmanuel like an open book -an even easier read than the instruction manual for the machine it provided- and feed into his savior complex, into his self-perception of himself as a tortured and misunderstood genius or some shit. The demon will stroke Emmanuel's ego as salve after the humiliation of S1's finale, and Emmanuel is gonna snort it like copium until he's convinced this demon is an asset sent by God to assist him; Just as Solomon's demons were. He's gonna be played like a fiddle by some higher demon AGAIN be shocked about it. Again.

[justadeadreaper]

WARNING THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR CALL OF DUTY MODERN WARFARE THREE.

PLEASE IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO BE SPOILT PLEASE DO NOT CONTINUE READING. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

I was thinking about the ending scene for Modern Warfare Three as it has been rupturing my soul into enough shards that the grains of sand in the Sahara Desert look like an hourglass compared to it.

Now this is my headcanon from being a Ghost X Soap shipper so if this is not for you please do not continue reading but instead scroll away as I will not accept hate just because you disagree with my idea due to the ship I like. Just please ignore and move along so you can spend your energy doing something better than arguing with me over text over fictional characters.

This headcanon is my idea on why the task force had Soap's ashes instead of his family as it is mixed in with a heavy amount of angst.

My reason for believing why Soap's ashes were not given to his biological family is because I believe that Soap doesn't technically have one a family. You may be wondering why I say this as most of you know the fandom headcanon Soap to have a large and loving family. While I may agree with that, today I want to give you a taste of angst that you'll see in my later works and also because I believe he only has a family like that when he fits into the box.

I've always believed that Soap is the fourth of six children which includes three other brothers and two sisters. From a young age Soap was a trouble maker but also the loudest of his family who had some queer tendencies which somewhat made him a black sheep. To counteract this I suggest that Soap's father or grandfather would punish him with corporal punishments that ranged from spankings to cleaning the house house to the point of spotlessness otherwise he'd get more spankings.

This is relevant as it gives you a bit of context as to how I view his family as I believe that the new Soap is Roman Catholic as the original Soap before the reboot was also a Roman Catholic. Which makes me guess that his family would most likely be traditional, especially his parents depending on their age as I expect them to be a bit older due to the amount of kids they have.

Coming from a family that's a mixture of Christianity and going to a Roman Catholic school I can say that traditional Roman Catholics tend to be homophobic due to the bible and believing it is unnatural as it apparently makes men "sissies" or "puffy". A lot of people will not like this as they headcanon Soap's family to be accepting but based on my own experience I believe that it's the opposite. Especially due to his parents being older they would have been raised with many misconceptions and stereotypes around gay people which makes them view it as horrid to be gay and as if it's the worst sin in the world.

This all cumulated when Soap was in his late teens. One of his cousins or siblings discovered he was bisexual or gay due to snooping in his room and finding something they weren't supposed to. Due to having a grudge against Soap for one of his pranks they decided to tell everyone.

This went over as well as it could have gone.At first they tried the pray the gay away, just by themselves but then with the pastor, and toughen him up, which was mostly punishments, approach before finding landing on the easiest option of shaming and degrading Soap until he cracked under the pressure. Of course Soap was still gay but stayed in the closet until someone realised that it didn't work. After that realisation he was kicked out and disowned.

Due to how close he originally was with his family he wanted to get back into their good graces. This is why I think he originally joined the military to make them proud as I believe he had other family members in the military, and to show that he isn't a "stereotypical" gay guy which they think is a "sissy". He wanted to desperately show that he can still be masculine and the "Johnny" they knew but they continued to turn a blind eye due to their strong religious beliefs and act as if he never existed.

The disownment led to him having a living biological family but no actual family. Of course he made family in his time in the military through meeting others which became most apparent when he joined the task force.

Each task force member was given a role by Soap based on who they were most similar to from his own family: Price as the older brother or father, Nikolai as the sketchy uncle or sketchy father, Laswell as the distant but caring and helpful aunt, Gaz as either the younger or older brother, and finally Ghost who was seen as the lover but also as the person Soap wanted to become. After all to Soap, Ghost is perfect, what his family would have wanted in a son; he wanted to be like Ghost to feel his family's love again as he didn't truly realise that he had already made a new one.

Johnny was nobody's son. Only Soap was.

Which is why they had his ashes as they were the only ones he could consider family as they were all he had.

All he requested for when he died was for his ashes to be spread in the Highlands of his home where his father always promised to take him but never did.

Now Johnny is nobody's son and nobody's lover.

Now Soap is nobody's son and nobody's lover.

His family will die and forget about him. His taskforce will die in effort to enact revenge for him. All that will be left of him will be a fading memory that slowly blows away like his ashes in the wind.

No family.

No name.

No life.

Johnny may have died when his family threw him out to the streets. But Johnny and Soap truly died on that cold floor, unbeknownst to him that three others died with him that day, especially the one he cared about most.

Simon.

Who would have guessed a life would have been lost over love?

-This is Ozzie signing out, and I hope one day that Soap gets the revenge and true ending he deserves.

[sockiestupidity]

desc: miggy and reader bond over catholic guilt🤭

warnings: probs religious trauma, (possibly) bad spanish and bad writing, bad dialogue, ooc miguel (probs), panic attack, VERY SOFT MIGUEL LIKE ACTUALLY IM NOT EVEN OVER EXAGGERATING

VERBAL READER?????

you were roaming around spider society as usual, finding comfort in the unusual ambiance. as you walk to miguel's office to turn in your reports (lab?? room?? idk) you feel slightly off but are unsure as to why. as you enter the room you're met with miguel's back. you snap to get his attention.

he turns around "I've been expecting you for a while. Do you have the reports that I asked you for?" he looks at you expectantly, raising an eyebrow slightly.

you hand him the papers and watch as he sifts through the papers. he lets out a satisfactory hum "perfect." he pauses for a moment, setting the papers aside "are you free? i'd like to give you some pointers, your hands on combat is still sloppy" he explains.

your monotone expression changes to one of shock, surprised that miguel wanted to offer you training. you begin to rack your brain, you knew you were supposed to go somewhere, but you weren't sure where. all you knew was that something was wrong. you hesitantly nod, still having a slightly off feeling as you do so.

your brain makes a sudden realization, tuning out the world as you begin to panic somebody is trying to speak to you but it sounds muffled, as if you're underwater. you watch as the blurry figure approches you with worry.

"hey. look at me for a second" the voice speaks out. you dont respond as the figure attempts to console you. "Mírame por favor. Mírame" strong large hands grip your shoulders, attempting to bring you out of your daze.

"Escucha mi respiración" you hear calm breathing and attempt to match the steady breath. you let out a choked cry, feeling a pain in your chest, a tear rolls down your face "shh shh. Escúchame" your breathing begins to calm "that's right, you're doing so good" he praises you as your breathing starts to steady out.

you look up, eyes meeting his face "m-m sorry" you manage to get out. your lip trembles. you couldn't believe that this was happening infront of the man who was basically your boss.

you watch as his face softens, and he speaks once more "it's not your fault" he reassures you. you begin to walk away from him, ready to leave "wait" he pauses, grabbing your attention "do you-" he hesitates "do you want to talk about it?" he asks you.

you look at him in surprise. you take a shaky breath and nod. he pulls out a chair for you "go ahead, sit" he offers. you're still in shock, having never seen miguel act like this. you take the seat.

"go ahead, whenever you're ready. you can take your time if you'd like" his chair is turned to face yours.

you nod and take another breath. "so um. i dunno. i guess i just. i just freaked out thats all" you try to downplay the situation at hand. your voice is small, not used to talking to other people.

he frowns slightly "what..what led to that?" he asks you, wanting to get a better understanding.

you shrug in response "realized that i forgot that i was supposed to be somewhere today" you respond vaguely.

he gives you an expression that tells you that he knows you're not telling him the full story.

you let out a heavy sigh "um-i uh.. i was supposed to um attend church today and i..forgot" you admit.

his face contorts into a surprised expression "i didn't know you were catholic"

"i mean, not really. my parents were though" you look down at your feet "you know, it's kinda funny, theyre gone and i still feel guilty when i dont go"

he hums in understanding "i was raised catholic too" you perk up at his words "we're more similar than you may think" he smiles sadly "you're not bad for not going to church, okay? plenty of people have done worse. you shouldn't be attending out of fear, you should be attending if it's something you want to do and enjoy"

you hesitantly nod, still feeling terrible about the situation. you wipe away your stray tears.

he suddenly gets up "i wamt to show you something" you quirk your head in intrest "come on" he gestures for you to get up.

you nod and follow him. you find yourself in an elevator heading up. the both of you end up on the roof of the building.

"sometimes i come up here to have a bit of thinking time to myself" he explains as if he could sense your confusion"there's so many things ive done in my life that..i think god would be displeased with, and i often find myself thinking that maybe all of..the stuff that's happened in my life happened because of what i did. whenever i start thinking like that i come here" he looks into the skyline

"if you ever start feeling like that, i want you to come here, close your eyes, and take a deep breath" he speaks in a fatherly tone. you nod.

something about being in that space felt therapeutic to you, and you felt comforted by a sense of familiarity "thank you"

he looks at you softly "of course" you then bring him into a hug. his body stiffens for a moment but then embraces you in return. "you can talk to me if you're having these kinds of thoughts again, okay?" you nod and just let him embrace you. the both of you let go and just stare up at the sky in silence. you close your eyes and let yourself feel the wond brush against your skin.

A/N: not my best work but i had to get this idea out of my brain😮‍💨 anyways i rlly hate this qnd will probs delete later lol

[thatonebirdwrites]

Soft ask game: 1, 2 and 3 please 🙂

What song makes you feel better?

KEiiNO for the win! They're a lovely Norwegian-Saami band. I'm still sad they weren't picked to represent Norway in Eurovision (yeah, they'd represented in a prior Eurovision with Spirit in the Sky but I really think Monument could have gotten in top 3). As a side note, my paternal Grandma was Norwegian-Saami, so it's why this band holds a special place in my heart.

They're known for partnering with Indigenous singers and bands to help with exposure, sales, and lift up the their concerns to wider audiences.

Fun facts: Fred is speaking in Northern Saami by the way. The "Hao-loo-laa" Fred does is known as a "Yoik" which is a specific Saami singing style that's similar to yodeling. In Monument, Fred doesn't do a full Yoik but the apex of one. In Spirit in the Sky, you can listen to the full Yoik.

In case you were wondering, the following is the one KEiiNO did for Eurovision in 2019. The Yoik starts at 2 minutes, and that steady build up is the full Yoik. It gives me chills every time.

2. What is your go to comfort show?

It depends. When I'm feeling ill, it's Ms. Marvel or The Legend of Korra for the most part.

Sometimes I'll play Supergirl (I skip all Mon-el scenes and scenes where mostly men are talking since I'm watching for comfort not to annoy myself).

Other times I'll turn on one of these movies (if I'm ill, I tend toward musicals): Mulan, Prince of Eygpt, Anastasia, Arrival, Interstellar, Sound of Music, Star Trek: the Voyage Home, or Star Wars (either with Leia, Luke, and Han or the first two of Rey and Finn's Saga).

3. Reading or writing? Why?

I've been writing since first grade. I'm also an avid reader, but you're more likely to catch me writing. Writing was my escape. I grew up in a HUGE Catholic family -- five sisters and two brothers all from the same parents. My childhood was traumatic, so I'd write to escape. (I'd read to escape too but that was harder to get away with doing since siblings would always interrupt my reading. But if I was writing, they left me alone, assuming I was doing homework or something.)

There's a large plastic tub by my bed that contains my journals from first grade to today. It's so heavy that my younger sister grouches at me to separate them into two tubs, but I never do.

I wrote my first novel -- as in more than 100,000 words -- in eighth grade, and it was something silly about a girl saving her best friend from aliens, upon which the two girls lived happily ever after together. Which is pretty gay now that I think about it.

The second novel took place on Elivera, which is a world I created and expanded upon for years. (Still am expanding on that world today. Created a few conlangs for it, and calculated out the physics of the star system just so I could have violet plants). Nearly all my novels star queer characters, even before I knew I was queer myself. Funny that. lol

Most of my original fiction takes place on Elivera (where capitalism never existed) or a post-apocalyptic Earth (where Capitalism died out from climate disasters).

I only started fanfiction writing after I caught Covid and ended up with LongCovid. Brain fog killed my writing. Fanfiction helped me regain it since I didn't have to use up as much brain power to write pre-made characters in pre-made settings.

I hope to return to my original fiction someday soon.

Anyway, thank you so much for asking!!

[this-is-a-dystopian-parable]

okay okay OKAY YOOOOOOOO i watched it oh MAN that was a GOOD show. MAN. god does not answer because he is in all things and even our question is his answer gabriel delivering that last line BRO how do they come up with this shit duude dude. i love all of them . gabriel holy SHIT man are yall seing this shit WOW wow wow . that ending ? hello. the tree gabriel the tree the thing he did make up your OWN MIND HELLO. very good yes i like inspired very coherent thoughts thank you

WOOOOOOOOOO YEAHHH

Sooooo real. It's so fucking good. And so FUNNY TOO. GOD.

"They do each other harm in the dark" aaaaa "That they sent me is enough to make me disbelieve" aaaaa "I don't think he's out there, I think he's in here" aaaaaaaaaaaaaa

And giving Joseph a major character arc, him being so in love with Mary but so wrapped up in his own insecurities and trying to find any reason why he doesn't deserve this. And using the "let the father of the baby gather cherries" as PROOF that it's HIM whether it's his biological kid or not he's the FATHER he's the one they need. Both him and Gabriel doubt themselves and their place but what they see as their weaknesses aren't weak! They are valuable!!! And YEAH the way everything works out through Gabriel's choice. There isn't anyone who's going to do it for him, miracles are made by people making choices in the name of what they believe but it takes real people making real actions for miracles to happen... whether you believe in a great plan or not...

And the Man in Grey does such a good job in this. When you first see him he's taking the costume pieces out of the box that are later used for all the characters he plays??? Amazing. Every time he talks to Gabriel. The little interaction of him singing "Satan's power" while the sheep is singing gives me CHILLS.

The playwright's father was Protestant and his mother was Catholic and though he went to a Catholic church and sunday school he went with other family, like his parents didn't even go. They weren't super religious at home but insisted he was educated in it. And I think this kind of toying around with well-known Biblical stories, not just for some silly funny satire but to somehow make it MORE GUT-WRENCHING and put his own themes of faith in there is just. So cool and really shows off his respect for the topic & artistic integrity.

Anyways. I also have so many thoughts about this me and @helloladder have watched it like five times at this point.

[faraway-sunshine]

(Was looking through old blog posts) So you're part Japanese on your Dad's side? but your grandpa never taught your dad how to speak the language. Is it safe to assume your mom is american? I'm curious why you were named in Japanese first if your parents don't speak it, if that's okay to ask

Don't worry, it's okay to ask, I see what you mean. And yes, my mom is American, with strong Welsh ties.

In terms of my middle/Japanese name, Haruki, it was my grandfather's birth name. Similarly, Mari's Japanese middle name (she had two) was my grandmother's. So it was in honour of him.

As to why they used the Japanese names rather than the English names they adopted for everyday use, I guess it was just to honor some part of culture they were forced to bury. My dad always wanted to feel more connected with his Japanese roots; that's why he started cultivating bonsais, for instance. He and my uncle weren't allowed to know much about their own cultures, outside of the occasional eavesdropped conversation made in Japanese so they couldn't understand and base understandings of the mixed Shinto and Buddhist beliefs they held (my dad and uncle were still enrolled in Sunday School at a Christian church in a further attempt to have them fit in, and later on they went to the Catholic private school because the educational quality was higher).

For my uncle, that led to him self-financing a trip to satiate his curiosity and eventually moving there when he met his now-wife, but my dad hates travel and found the couple trips he made for my uncle's wedding and to meet my cousins overwhelming.

So he tried in other ways, like learning how to cook a lot of Japanese dishes, the bonsais, celebrating some of the holidays that Japan observes with us, and origami. A lot of these habits didn't persist, but the bonsais stayed and he's still a really good cook. And I still have my middle name.

I signed up to take Japanese lessons at my new school, so I wonder if they'll pay off?

(Monday 11th September, 2000, 6:57 AM)

[longeyelashedtragedy]

i've been seeing a weird trend on twitter of "holocaust minimalization" from people who proclaim to be on the left of the political spectrum. are these nick fuentes neonazis now masquerading as "leftists" for the lols and to stir up trouble with people closer to the center of the spectrum? it's twitter--anything's possible--i can't presume i know who these people actually are, but it's a very strange trend to say the least, no matter their affiliation. so are the other people who have the audacity to twist themselves in knots trying to defend or justify these statements.

this isn't just some thing that belongs in a musem that's sad but so much time has passed that it's a faded sadness. the holocaust is a very real, living tragedy for a whole lot of people, including people who weren't actually alive at the time. my great-grandparents left warsaw in the 20s, and two of my great-grandma's brothers and their families also came over from europe. one in 1932 and one with the ultimate good luck in the early 40s. the rest of the family stayed in warsaw until they disappeared in approx 1942. my great-grandparents for some reason saved some of the correspondence between them in brooklyn and my great-great grandfather in warsaw. i will tell you, it's a weird feeling to see a stack of envelopes with swastika stamps on them in your parents' basement. weird to see telegrams from 1941 in german and clearly written in some kind of code--or something. "mother is very sick, please send warm clothes." the "mother" in question had died a few years ago--everyone sending and receiving the telegram knew there was no mother to be very sick. what the fuck was going on? it's creepy. these are tiny things but if you don't have it in your background, don't see it as a living breathing event, don't have one catholic parent and one ashkenazi parent and thus periodically get whacked in the face by the extent of your lopsided family tree--this isn't just some thing that's extra important in the US school curriculum bc it happened to people with "white skin" (also kind of a deranged thing to say about a time when the roma were persecuted and murdered en masse, but what do i know, i don't believe in "eye for an eye" type activism and justice and the sheer ignorance it breeds). i mean, if that is why it's prioritized, and i refuse to get involved in that debate, that doesn't in any way change the importance of what happened, or mean it's a thing that doesn't have a living impact on any people still. if you don't have this in your background who the fuck are you to speak about it? i feel the same way when i see the confederate flag flown today (especially by people north of the fucking mason-dixon line like....shit is SHAMELESS--and the biggest confederate flag i've ever seen was on a pickup truck in upstate new york)--swastikas are still being used as hate symbols. it's not just "history" or something to "get over." it's still happening! why are you, whoever you are--continuing to play a part in perpetuating it? are you proud of yourself?

i don't understand who this kind of attitude is serving. Certainly in no way is it helping the suffering people these twitter folks claim to be caring about, that is for sure. if you show you care about a group of people by showing how much you don't care about another, then my friend--you don't care about anyone but yourself, and i feel bad for you, cause that's an empty fucking life.

[thessalian]

Thess vs Transphobes' Misconceptions

It occurs to me that I have a story that can be given to every asshole who says shit like, "Kids aren't trans - they're being brainwashed and groomed by the horrible pedophiles in the media calling for so-called 'rights'!" and "Schools have no business telling kids about that LGBT stuff; they're too young to understand that!"

Picture the scene: Montreal, QC, 1985 or so. Now, I specify the where and when because it does actually mean something: Quebec was super Catholic for a very long time, and while it was getting less so in the 80s, it was still pretty prevalent in the general mood of the boomers who were our parents, and whatever the fuck the generation was that were their parents. Not that there weren't gay people, bi people, trans people; gods, no. Just they were a lot more circumspect, and quite often in very deep denial. (Hell, my mother only came to terms with the fact that she's bi a few months ago, despite being head-over-heels in love and lust with one of her best friends when I was a kid. But she was raised Catholic, so I guess her denial shouldn't be a surprise, especially after Mum made her feelings known and the best friend ran for the hills. I swear I want to punch that woman in the mouth for being such a bitch about it, even if she probably is approaching seventy by now. ANYWAY.)

So I'm in elementary school, and one of my best friends is this kid named Alex. I remember him surprisingly well - very red hair, very brown eyes, lots of freckles. And we were both fans of the Jem and the Holograms cartoon. And Alex insisted that Kimber Benton had been born a boy (or, y'know, a trans woman - we were kids and didn't really have the right terminology available to us at that point, not to mention that the terminology has changed a lot over the last few decades). He had a whole lot of weight behind his headcanon too, and I wasn't about to contradict him - hell, even then, I knew not to harsh someone's squee when it didn't really matter to me either way.

But it mattered to him. It mattered desperately to him. And one day, I found out why it mattered so much to him. He didn't say it outright; it was a lot of very nervously dropped little comments over the course of a conversation about a recent episode. But it was pretty clear to me, even at, like, eight or so - he needed Kimber to be a trans woman because if she was, with her bright red hair kind of like his ... then he could be too. I don't think he ever came out and said that he felt like he was a girl, but I'm pretty sure he came close - that or I was just way more perceptive than the average eight-year-old.

Nothing really changed, outwardly. We were in elementary school, in a pretty Catholic province, in the 80s - hell, at the start of what we now call the AIDS epidemic. Preferred pronouns, style of dress, even borrowing my lip gloss ... none of that was on the table for my friend. But my friend knew, absolutely. I do remember inviting my friend over for a sleepover - I think I mentioned that maybe we could play with my makeup kit. My friend said "No, Mom won't let me have a sleepover with girls" and just ... so many reasons I couldn't understand why not, but I could understand being entirely afraid of what your mother would say if you broke the rules.

My friend went to another school the next year. We never saw each other again. I don't know what happened, and I only hope my friend stayed safe until she could get away and be who she wanted to be. And I will call her she now. Whether she's out there living her best life or ... gods, please not the victim of some conversion therapy nightmare or worse ... she deserves that at least.

And she was eight years old when she knew. So don't you go telling me that kids can't know that they're trans when they're that young. My friend was eight, and she was a girl, and she knew no one would let her be a girl because of the contents of her pants and what a doctor called out when she was born. I hope she's allowed to be that girl now. Well, I guess it'd be woman now, but you know what I mean.

(As a side note - if I had a 5p piece for every non-cishet AMAB redhead named Alex I'd had in my life, I'd have ... 10p, but it's weird that it happened more than once.)

[scarlet666tears]

I hope you support trans rights soon

Look there's a few problems I have when it comes to "trans rights" if a full grown adult that has passed psychological testing decides that they want to dismember themselves then that's completely up to them. As a Satanist I do believe that you should be welcome to do what you want with your body even if it is terrible.. I personally would not encourage this.

That being said the real issue I have is pushing this on children and people who are psychologically unsound. I won't bother linking videos on here because the people that need to see them.. won't.

I know damn well that a full grown adults in their twenties when introduced to this are falling into this indoctrination children don't have a chance.

Telling a boy or girl that they can be any sex "gender" and then encouraging chemical castration or otherwise before they're the age of 16 is just wrong. This is no different than Christianity pushing its dogma on children. Instead of telling them what to think why don't you let them grow on their own or teach them how to think. At least that's what I used to thought until you start teaching them that if they felt feminine or masculine than they were in the wrong body. That's just BS.

Let the kids be lesbian or gay if that's what they are. There's no reason for introducing sexuality into both children games like the Pokemon one that I've mentioned in other posts or in school. The sex talk we had in class was more of protection against strangers and just the basics of what the body is.

There was no books encouraging children to do weird things.. this is indoctrination 101

So the memes kind of in reverse instead of killing the parents and pretending like you're the good people you're actually killing the children and telling the parents.. "if you don't that children be indoctrinated by our agenda you're a phobe.."

You're literally killing the next generation.. I despise Christianity and there are so many parallels between the indoctrination being used. But at least they weren't mutilating the children. (I never liked Catholics by the way that's a different issue they can go screw themselves)