#yes we’re sinning on a sunday

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Am I ashamed? No.

Am I sorry? Also no.

The tag is all @lola-lola-lola's fault lmao 😘

[yumeboshi]

hi yume congrats on your follower event, you deserve each one !! <3 can i please order a dragonfruit champagne sundae HEHE 🧚🏻‍♀️

❝ THANK YOU FOR YOUR ORDER、@justblades .ᐟ ⟡ HERE IS YOUR RECEIPT FROM CAFÉ YUME ⟡

𐙚DRAGONFRUIT CHAMPAGNE SUNDAE：sends you right into ‘paradise’!

𐙚 dish desc。．a drunk date gone unexpectedly wrong?

．。𝜗𝜚 labels。smutty, drunk, engaged in Sunday and not yet with blade, im sorry if you were disappointed dhil was not here because of the dragon label (I really can’t write him well lolol i hope I compensated with blade & chicken boy) MINORS DNI

．。𝜗𝜚 ingredients。sunday and blade

#SྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིUNDAY

A FANCY dinner in the Reverie’s most expensive restaurant is nothing but a part of SUNDAY’s “casual date” plan.

he’s a refined man, and a gentleman at that- he knows all the right things to do to swoon you. he knows how to make you flush, he knows just exactly when you expected a kiss from him. and of course, he knows what to say to make you fall over yourself, as if he has the entire script of your dialogue in his hands. things like this are so easy for him to do, and his plans always work out because of how expertly he steers you around.

unfortunately, a possibility he did not foresee was this— a drunk you, wasted and tipsy and giggling at his ‘funny chicken wings—‘ all the while carelessly leaning into him and basically being so difficult. it was difficult for him to restrain the heat that slowly pulses through his entire body when you sloppily say daring things your shy self won’t ever dare say when sober.

“sweetheart, please— we’re in a public area.” he gently tells you at first, trying to recover you back to your original state— although it’s just futile attempts of him trying to make you sit upright and not leaning into his chest because it makes him hot and hard to breathe.

“no we’re noooot, people aren’t around….” you slur, batting your eyes up at him sleepily with an attractive little smile lit up by the dim candles. and lord, he feels tricked. he feels like he’s lost to you for some reason- the way your sleepy gaze and your soft voice pulls on his restraints deceptively gently like a siren’s call- he’s glad the area is dim and people aren’t around, because the head of the oak family not knowing what to do with his evident blush across his face would give away how little control he actually has over himself.

“don’t do that,” he reprimands you. his eyes are blazing with a dark flame that’s far too intense for you to take in-

but your sluggish brain does not register anything- you only giggle and swat his arm that’s warningly on your own. “or else what?” you hiccup with a grin.

lavish silver plates clatter and fall to the ground rhythmically with your loud gasps when sunday’s cock thrusts violently into you once more, a lewd slap echoing across the embarrassingly empty restaurant— chest pressed firmly against your table while you hold onto the smooth sides to barely hang on. “—s-slow down,” you’d plead to him- helplessly dangling to the silky tablecloth, to no avail, since it slips out of your grasps easily when he pounds into you with dangerous speed.

“oh? you seemed keen to tease me earlier. are you already sober, angel?” he slows to talk to you in condescension, but when you try to tell him that the alcohol made you do that— he only picks up the pace, escalating your words into incoherent pleas of release-

“saying such dirty little words in a lovely restaurant. do I have to fuck in some manners into your pretty head?” with another violent thrust and a groan, he drags himself out against your slit to coat it with wet fluids that trickle down your sides to spill all over the table.

yes, he thinks it’s deceptive, the way your pussy struggles to take in his load, the way you mewl and squeal his name for more, drunk and needy— the way your ass moves so lewdly with the rhythm of his thrusts, skin trembling. this is sin, he knows, but you are just too beautiful for him to stop. maybe he will have to feed you more purposeful alcohol when you’re sober again, because fuck, how could you be even more obscenely seductive in this state?

#BྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིLADE

BLADE doesn’t know how to react— because his only recent alcohol experience is when he occasionally joined kafka for wine- and the woman showed no signs of being drunk at all.

but when he sees you- subdued to a giggling tipsy mess, his mind draws a blank. What was he supposed to do? he calls your name out briefly, then realized you were too busy burying yourself in his arms like a cat, smiling dreamily at him while telling him his eyes look so pretty today.

he doesn’t like the way his chest tightens up when you say that. he doesn’t like the way he feels so out of control as if the mara is actually taking him over- guiding his hands to tighten around your waist, possessive touches that make you squeal.

“stop that,” he mutters, indirectly at you and at himself.

“stop what, bladie?” you ask with a playful kiss on his jaw, which visibly tightens. “oh come on, don’t be so uptight. didn’t you plan this date?” you continue to trip over your words and droop all over his arms like pudding so bad that blade had to press your back against him so you won’t tip over.

he did plan the home date, just by Kafka’s constant teasing. she’d told him that wine was the perfect idea, that they would be able to have a “heartfelt one on one conversation.” he thought that part meant you would be able to be coherent but unfortunately no, now you’re drunk and illogical and basically his entire plan to talk to you seriously about engagement just went downhill.

“we have to talk,” he says directly, although his voice comes out so weird, as if it’s being strangled. the weird heat in his body spreads violently when you turn around to face him with a little lovely smile, eyelashes drooping, hands so sneakily fiddling with the hem of his belt.

“what could you possibly want to talk about right n—ngh!”

your sentence goes unfinished, and the next thing you know, your face is pressed flat against the cushion couch. you can’t see anything at all, but you hear hasty movements and a belt clanking to the floor, and suddenly his cold hands are right on you, veiny fingers tracing the outline of your puffy clit before hooking up the strap of fabric with a finger to tear it easily.

when you continue to beg him for an answer, he shuts you up with his thick cock that wedges its way into your gummy walls, stretching you all so suddenly to make you gasp into the pillows.

“b-blade,” you whine, “-s’ too big.”

“ill make it fit,” he says simply, but the primal groan beneath it lets you know he’s not going to stop until he fits it in.

he buries into you at a cruelly fast pace, too lost in his own euphoria to hear you whimper and sob how much it’s hurting. aeons, why is he doing this just now? the way you clench around him draws out a lengthy groan, leaning against the table to calm himself down from such an arousing sight of glistening moisture soaking his cock nicely.

the cold air tickling your ass disperses quickly with his animalistic thrusts that give you burning heat, fucking out your constant whimpers and squeals that you’re going to cum, and he lets you cum, hastily pounding himself in to relieve the bothersome blistering arousal that spurts all over your walls to paint them his.

now he knows that kafka fucking did plan this out, but he’s not angry. in fact, he is almost thankful she set him up, because good lord, he knows he won’t ever be satisfied until your holes are stuffed full with his cum.

[personal-progress-dropout]

The Rainbow Sheep

(Yes, I know, very original and creative title, but it gets the job done. Get ready for personal stories and too many parenthesis.)

In my childhood, whenever gay people were mentioned, it was with the same tone you’d use for someone with terminal cancer. It was a tragedy. They were lost, they had distanced themselves from God, and they were grieved like the dead. Sometimes it felt like people would rather their gay brothers and sisters be dead instead of gay. Of course, we should always be kind and welcoming, love the sinner hate the sin, etc., but honestly, it felt like you could never truly be accepted if you were gay. There was a distance, and it was always the gay person's fault.

For example—on June 26, 2015, the U.S. Supreme Court legalized gay marriage in all fifty states. I was thirteen years old. That Sunday, there was a special meeting at church to discuss the new development and reinforce The Family Proclamation. I remember very little of what was said, but I remember what I felt. I remember that the atmosphere felt like the greatest of tragedies had occurred, and I remember being told that we had to defend traditional marriage. We had been given the duty of defending the Family, something that the world wanted to destroy. (I use Family with a capital F because it always seems like we’re defending an unreachable ideal instead of the messy, glorious reality.) Nobody ever used that language directly, but I certainly felt the implication, and the language they did use drew up a stark divide of ‘us vs. them.’ 

I wholeheartedly believed this, and I was going to do everything I could to strive towards the ideal. I was going to get married in the temple and start my own eternal family! There was just one problem with that—I didn’t see men as romantic partners. My future husband was a faceless doll set in the life I wanted to have: my vision for the future included kids, a house, pets, and a job, but I had no idea where a husband was supposed to fit in my life. The ‘crushes’ I had as a kid were a fun game of pretend because girls were supposed to crush on boys. The older I got, the more exhausting the game of make-believe became. Looking back on my high school years, I realize that I was never actually attracted to the boys I wanted to date; I simply wanted to hang out with them. If they were attracted to me, that would be nice, and it would definitely stroke my ego, but I didn’t want them. I wanted to be wanted.  

I’ve always gravitated to women more than men, even as a child. It’s a running joke among queer women that when you see a beautiful girl you don’t know if you want to be her or be with her, but I’ve always been able to make the distinction. Women were easier to develop crushes on than men. I could differentiate between attraction and admiration, and after I came out it was incredibly frustrating to hear people say I was confusing the two. I was enchanted with the sway of a classmate’s hips, the bark of her laughter, the passion of her voice. If I had changed the pronoun to ‘he’, everyone would assume I was in love. 

I realized I was queer when I was sixteen years old, and it was terrifying. Gay people were the ‘other’, they were either set on destroying the Family or they were expected to live out a solitary life in the hope that they would get a heterosexual happily-ever-after in the Celestial Kingdom. I didn’t want to destroy the Family! I didn’t want to die alone! There were certain men that I found handsome, so I determined that I was attracted to men (in theory) and therefore nobody needed to know. I could go through my life with nobody the wiser, and I would never have to risk the alienation that comes with coming out.

And it's a risk. Parents will tell their children that they will always love them and there’s nothing they can do to change that. This is simply not true. I grew up with these same reassurances, but I was never specifically told that I could be gay and my parents would still love me. I’m incredibly lucky. Despite the way my parents were raised to regard LGBTQ+ people (which in all honesty was pretty mild compared to some of my friends' parents), they valued the commandment to love God and their neighbors over anything else. It was still one of the most nerve-wracking experiences of my life because I was walking into unknown, potentially dangerous territory. In the end, I’m so glad that I did. My parents and I understand each other better now, and I don't have to carry the weight of secret-keeping anymore.

Of course, there are still misunderstandings and miscommunication. I was frustrated because my parents didn’t want me to come out to my sisters until we were older. I felt like a dirty secret, and it felt like there was a layer of separation between me and my sisters. There are moments when I feel othered—when I know I can never come out to certain parts of my family, because they would never look at me the same way. (I might someday. Who knows.) When I see legislation that forbids talking about LGBT in schools and how gay literature is being banned from libraries, and how members of my family don't see a problem with this, because aren't they a bit young for that anyways? (I wasn't too young to be taught that I should marry a man in the temple and have children that I should raise in the faith, but that's besides the point.)

I get annoyed when I hear my orientation referred to as a ‘trial’ and something that will be made right in the afterlife. I don't consider it to be a trial--I think it's an aspect of who I am, and the trial comes from people who have a restricted view of the world.

I love my faith. I love the assurance that comes with knowing I'm a child of God, and I love how we as a church believe that we can become greater than we are through living gospel principles, but it should come as a surprise to nobody that the church is an institution made up of imperfect people. We have a long way to go, but I have hope. Look at me! I went from a deeply conservative teenager who believed that gay marriage was a sin (I'm not even sure I knew trans people existed at the time) to someone who accepts their identity as queer and tries to make the world a more accepting place. I can change, and I like to believe that the people around me can too. We can become greater than what we are today.

[quinloki]

My apolocheese in advance for this, but all 50??? 😀 (Excluding any you may have answered already and/or don't feel up to answer)

Feel free to discard this ask entirely, or answer it in portions whenever you have energy. Whatever works for you. ^^ Just don't overwork yourself (ironic ik, coming from the guy who's asking for all 50, but I can't help it <3)

You know what - sure. XD

I'm going to put this below a cut though, cause whew!

who is/are your comfort character(s)? Marco definitely, but I find comfort in a lot of characters, so I should include Kid, Sabo, Crocodile, Doflamingo, Thatch, Penguin and Law in there too.

lighter or matches? Man I love a good zippo, but nothing beats the smell of a match, so I'll have to go with matches

do you leave the window open at night? Not unless I absolutely have to.

which cryptyd being do you believe in? Are ghosts as a general classification close enough? I've seen like three, but I haven't seen any other cryptids.

what color are your eyes? Brown ^_^

why did you do that? Sometimes I do not even know. I let go of a pot the other day for no good damned reason and was just glad it was empty.

hair-ties or scrunchies? Hair-ties. There's no scrunchie in this 'Verse that can contain my hair.

how many water bottles are in your room right now? In my room like my bedroom? Or as in the room I'm in right now? In either case it's zero. I have this spiffy mason jar monstrosity for water and it's down in the kitchen atm.

which do you prefer, hot coffee or cold coffee? Caffeine, honestly, is what I prefer XD Coffee's crap unless I make it myself so I don't even really register the flavor of it most of time.

would you slaughter the rich? Hm... ... no. I can't say I'd protect or defend them, but my sinful ass isn't going to go around casting judgements on others, no matter if I think they deserve it or not.

favorite extracurricular activity? >.> <.< I mean... I can't really say anything other than sex at this point.

what kind of day is it? A middling Sunday. The sun is pleasant, my cats are napping and look egregiously adorable, but there's still the weight of unemployment on the house, so it's middling.

when was the last time you ate? About 5 minutes or so ago. Rice and veggies.

do you love the smell of earth after it rains? Most certainly ^_^

are you a parent? (all answers qualify) lol not even a little.

can you drive? Better than most. My grandfather taught me with a bag of apples, but I don't really enjoy driving so I don't do it much.

are you farsighted or nearsighted? Whichever it is that needs glasses to see.

what hair products do you use? Cheap ones >.>

imagine we’re at a sleepover, would you paint my nails? If you wanted, certainly, but I have bit my nails since I was 8 so my skill at nail painting does not exist ^_^;

do you say soda or pop? Previously answered, but the short answer is soda.

something you’ve kept since childhood? My friend John. We became friends when we were 5 and 6 and I still play D&D with him on the weekends.

what type of person are you? A lucky one.

how do you feel about chilly weather? Previously answered, but I love winter and autumn

if we were together on a rooftop, what would we be doing? Probably stargazing. Which I stand by because you're not getting me on a roof when the sun's up.

perfume/body spray or lotion? I... uh... none?

a scenario that you’ve replayed multiple times? Like, in my mind? Ah, I licked a guy's nipples for so long he asked me if I was enjoying myself, and instead of saying yes like a boss, I got flustered and it killed the mood. Alas.

about how many hours of sleep did you get? ... 6? I think.

do you wear a mask? When I leave the house, yeah.

how do you like your shower water? Flesh-meltingly hot.

is there dishes in your room? Yes, but only because I just finished eating veggies and rice before I started answering this.

what type of music keeps you grounded? Previously answered, but I really do listen to all of it.

do you have a favorite towel? Nah. I have a favorite spatula though.

the last adventure you’ve been on? My spouse and I went on a 14 day road trip before the pandemic hit and I think between the states and Canada we traveled something like 5,490 miles or so.

is there a song you know every word to by heart? Don't Let It Bring You Down by Annie Lennox

what’s your timezone? East Coast

how many times have you changed your url? 0 - and I don't foresee it happening either.

someone in your life, other than a relative, you’ve known for 10+ years? My aforementioned bestie, but also my lil' "brother" who is not really technically my brother, but who has known me since he was 14 and I was 17, and my D&D group has been together for over 10 years now, so that's like 11 or so more people.

a soap bar that smells good? I use cheap liquid soap, sorry ^^;

do you use lip balm? Nope.

did you have any snacks today? Yes, a pear.

how do you take your coffee? Any way I can get it. Black is preferred though.

an app you frequently use besides this godforsaken site? Discord, maybe I imagine.

what’s your take on spicy foods? I am weak, my family is weak, my ancestors were weak, but I will sniffle and cry and sob the entire time because it's fucking delicious

you get a free pass to kill anyone, who is it? Sadly, they suffer more alive than dead, so >.>

can you remember what happened yesterday? Well enough I'm not worried about early on set dementia.

favorite holiday film? I was gonna say Die Hard, but then it made me think of The Last Unicorn and so I'mma go with that.

what was the last message you sent? Cheering on family who did early voting.

when did you first try an alcohol beverage? Supervised - 12 Because no one was there to stop me, 15.

can you skip rocks? I can trip over rocks, but that's about as skillful as I get. ^_^

can i tag you in random stuff? Certainly - I cannot promise I'll always know how to reply, but I actually really appreciate being tagged because I miss stuff easily.

[to-the-stars8]

Faith

Summary: Keeping faith was never easy for Jason, and the struggle creates a war in his mind that hangs between self-destructing and outright torment.

This was inspired by the artwork of @lethologicaee

Just letting you guys know that this story has a lot of heavy religious references and reflections of trauma, so if that makes you uncomfortable please do not engage with this story. Keep yourself healthy and happy, my loves.

Another warning, referenced drug use

Jason couldn’t remember what he saw after he died—if he saw anything. He only remembered seeing the Joker followed by waking up to darkness and the smell of dirt. The moment his eyes opened, not seeing but feeling the softness of his coffin, two things ran through his mind: Bruce and the noticeable absence of God. 

There was never a moment in Jason’s life when he was a religious fanatic, but there were a few years with Catherine when he went to church semi-regularly. It was right after Willis had gone to jail and before his mother had fully developed her addiction. She had come to rely on religion for some comfort and tried to teach Jason to do the same.

“How come we’re going to church now?” He had asked as she buttoned up one of his nicer jackets. His hands were still too small to properly do it himself, and they were already running late. 

She thinned her lips, thinking, and her sacred blue eyes flickered up to meet his for a moment before going back down to the buttons. “I think going to church could be good for us. I think we’ve run out of faith, and it could teach us to get it back again. To keep going.”

Jason grumbled, slightly annoyed that he had to get up so early on a Sunday morning, “And we need to go to church for that?”

“Yes,” Catherine said pointedly. 

The Gotham Parish Church was one of the biggest and one of the nicest in the city. It had been around not long before the Waynes had come and was kept up by donations from other rich Gothamite families. It was a rare beauty in the Gotham smog. A diamond on the outside, he knew for sure, but he couldn't quite say the same for the inside of it. 

Jason remembered finding it odd that he had to kneel in front of a big wooden Jesus figure but did it anyway as he followed Catherine’s lead. He stared at the figure, it was painted with vivid browns, beiges, and reds, and it left him feeling a little sad. He wondered why a man would die for people who did not care for nor knew him. He supposed it was for his godly father. 

The only reason he kept going to church willingly was for his mother. When he looked up at Catherine during prayer, he’d seen her smile for the first time in a while. She looked happy, almost younger, even. The stress from her face faded and she looked at him with so much love coupled with optimism. 

He found something similar in feeling, but couldn’t determine if it was Catherine’s contagious hopefulness or Father Thomas’ sermon of goodness in people. Eventually, Jason began to like the weekly routine and even found solace in it. He wondered if that feeling was the holy light Father Thomas talked about. 

Then, he found Catherine sitting on her bed with a needle in her arm.

Jason tried to get her help, going to Father Thomas and begging him to do something. He only patted him on the head and said, “If she has faith then God will deliver from this sin.”

Jason had felt terrified and angry. Terrified because how could he get his mother to get more faithful, especially at her lowest, when he hardly knew the meaning of it? And, was angry, because he could not fathom the sin she was committing. What kind of god would abandon someone who was sick, much less mark them as a sinner?

It stirred a holy turmoil within Jason’s young mind that came to a sudden end when he found Catherine dead on the bathroom floor. Because, with her, Jason’s faith had died, too. It wasn’t until he was in Wayne Manor did he found a little bit of that again. It wasn’t the holy kind of faith, but, rather, the faith in love. With Bruce, he began to pray again and believed that, maybe, God was still there.

Bruce wasn’t religious himself, but always told him that it was always worth believing in something. That gave Jason the courage to ask Alfred, who had mentioned that now and then he would attend church if he could join him on one of those occasions. Ultimately, nothing ever came of it. Jason tried not to dwell on what he could have been if he had gone with Alfred. 

Then, there was Sheila, and Jason had prayed for the past. He wanted a mother who he could look up to in the church light and believe wholeheartedly in God again. 

Sheila had welcomed him with open arms, but, in the end, his faith in her was ripped from him. Yet, there was still Bruce who would save him— Both of them. The love he felt for Bruce was immeasurable, just as if they had always been father and son. It was because of him Jason died still believing.  

Now, back from the dead, all that he was left with was anger and grief. He was angry at Bruce and God, and he grieved for the boy he used to be. With Bruce, his resentment was built off of another failed father who turned away; with God, it was deeper than just that. It was a fit of animalistic, sacred anger that made him want to tear the heart out of the very idea of faith with his bare teeth. Jason felt more of a fool when it came to God, tricked into hoping—praying—only to be turned away in the end. 

Did he not believe in God enough, or would he have to get down on his hands and knees to beg for an unknown forgiveness?

Jason knew it would be pathetic for him to do it, to beg for the forgiveness of another father who abandoned him, but he would do it. He’d do it until the golden rosary cut into his hands, his knees had bruises, and his mouth ran dry from begging. He’d scream and cry for it if he had to. 

He questioned if had sinned too much—If, in his initial hallowed anger, he had turned into Cain. Jason had offered the best of himself, but God had not favored him as he did others. The thought made him bitter. Jason knew it had to be a fault within him rather than God; that he didn't have the innate goodness he thought all people had. If he ever had it. 

Each time he looked at the blood on his hands, Jason only thought of one thing, the noticeable absence of God. 

[usaigi]

Is Matt Murdock Homophobic?

Short answer: Doubt it.

Long answer: I seriously doubt, just because he’s Catholic/was raised in a highly Catholic environment (a Catholic orphanage) doesn’t mean he’s homophobic. Being Catholic does not automatically equal being homophobic. 

And if we’re being completely honest, I won’t consider Matt to be “extremely” Catholic in the way the fandom seems to think about him. Matt attending mass on Sunday, going to confession, and having a relationship with his priest just makes him a churchgoer. Which I guess makes him more devote than a lot of other Catholics but the way some of the fandom talk about him makes it seems like he’s having a crisis of faith every other Tuesday. 

I've seen this topic come up in fanfiction and in fandom in general so I’d like to offer a liberal queer Catholic perspective on being queer. 

Is being gay a sin in Catholicism?

Having same-sex attraction is not a sin in Catholicism. However, having sex outside of marriage is a sin. And since the church only recognizes heterosexual marriages, it essentially does make being gay a sin. The whole “being gay isn’t a sin but if you act upon it is” which is... ugh.

We are all children of God, and God loves us as we are and for the strength that each of us fights for our dignity. Being homosexual is not a crime. It is not a crime. 'Yes, but it is a sin.' Fine, but first let us distinguish between a sin and a crime. It is not the first time that I speak of homosexuality and of homosexual persons. And I wanted to clarify that it is not a crime, in order to stress that criminalization is neither good nor just. When I said it is a sin, I was simply referring to Catholic moral teaching, which says that every sexual act outside of marriage is a sin. Of course, one must also consider the circumstances, which may decrease or eliminate fault. As you can see, I was repeating something in general. I should have said, 'It is a sin, as is any sexual act outside of marriage.' This is to speak of 'the matter' of sin, but we know well that Catholic morality not only takes into consideration the matter, but also evaluates freedom and intention; and this, for every kind of sin. And I would tell whoever wants to criminalize homosexuality that they are wrong. - Pope Francis 2023

HOWEVER: We have not seen Matt Murdock having religious objections/feel guilty for having premarital sex. Birth control is also not accepted in Catholicism but I seriously doubt Matt’s not wrapping it. I’m sure I don’t need to cite one of the million jokes about him being a manwhore, we all know it. Do we really think Matt would be such a hypocrite to think someone is a sinner for being LGBT when he himself has had how many girlfriends? Not to mention he was also born and raised in New York City and his need for justice is one of his primary character traits. Do you really think Matt learned about the Stonewall Riot(his own city’s history), the AIDs epidemic, the general mistreatment and discrimination of LGBT people and would really support it? BFFR.

Matt Murdock is a lot of things, mainly a self-loathing idiot in desperate need a therapy, but he’s not a bigot. 

I’m going to link this post by the lovely @ceterisparibus116 about Matt’s "religious guilt" and what I think is fandom’s general misunderstanding of Matt’s Catholic guilt. 

What about internalized homophobia?

In my own fics I’ve written Matt as bi/pan (hooking up with Moon Knight) (also that one Ziwe meme) and as a trans guy who pre-transition thought he was a lesbian/sapphic. (If you read it I’ll love you forever). Mattfoggy is the biggest ship in the fandom so it's only normal to have this discussion.

Sure, maybe Matt wouldn’t judge other people for being gay and having sex outside of Catholic-recognized marriage but would he judged himself? How can Matt still consider himself Catholic and queer? 

A misconception I think a lot of people have about Catholicism is that we must all follow the church’s teaching and that everything the Pope says is infallible. Which is silly and simply not true. Pope Benedict XVI once stated that: "The Pope is not an oracle; he is infallible in very rare situations, as we know." Pope John XXIII also once said: "I am only infallible if I speak infallibly but I shall never do that, so I am not infallible." 

First of all, the church is not a monolith institution. Second of all, not all Catholic teaching is infallible, “no church teaching is automatically free from error, because the church is composed of human beings. God alone is a priori free from error in detail and in every case.” (Infallible? An Inquiry by Hans Küng). Very few things are infallible statement. The Immaculate Conception of Mary and the Assumption of Mary are infallible statements. But as far as I know, “being gay is a sin” is not. 

Conscience, actually, takes priority over church teaching. Pope Francis said “that priests must inform Catholic consciences ‘but not replace them.’ And he stressed the distinction between one’s conscience—where God reveals himself—and one’s ego that thinks it can do as it pleases.” (x)

In extolling conscience the Catechism quotes from another Vatican II document Gaudium et Spes. It states: "Deep within his conscience man discovers a law which he has not laid upon himself but which he must obey. “For a man has in his heart a law inscribed by God . . . His conscience is man’s most secret core and his sanctuary,” the document goes on, “There he is alone with God whose voice echoes in his depths.” In summary, it is possible for a good Catholic in good faith to act contrary to the teachings of the church. - Patsy McGarry

If Matt prayed, asked for guidance and his conscience said that being (trans, gay, bi, however you headcanon him) is not sinful, he can, in good faith, oppose the church. And yes, he’d be welcomed to take the Eucharist. Eucharist is not a reward that only the most faithful free-on-sin living saints. It’s a source of healing and for those striving to live in the Gospel.  

In terms of the church, as I said, it’s not a monolith and people can and do disagree in current teaching. Here’s Cardinal McElroy calling for the ‘radical inclusion’ of LGBT, women and others in the Catholic Church. Here’s a letter by 6,000 nuns standing in solidarity with Trans community.

This is just my headcanon, but I don’t think Father Lantom is homophobic. I’d like to think he’s one of the priest calling for reform and acceptance of LGBT people. I also like to think Sister Maggie was one of the nuns that signed that letter. If Matt came to him asking for support, I honestly think Father Lantom would give him that.  

Would everyone in his community accept him? No, probably not and that’s unfortunate. But there are those in the community don’t accept the young single mom or the recovering alcoholic. Religious gatekeeping is a problem and I don’t want to pretend it isn’t, but it’s not the only truth. I dislike the idea that being queer and Catholic are mutually exclusive. Or that Matt would leave his religion for being queer. To be honest, as a queer Catholic I find it pretty disrespectful. I would love to read more fics where Matt realize he’s queer and struggles with it but it’s so incredibly annoying when the fic concludes with Matt leaving his faith. We’re Catholic for God not for a church. There are other queer Catholic Matt could hypothetically find community with. 

And I get it, a lot of people are coming from a place of religious trauma and are writing fanfic to express it. I'm sorry for anyone who was hurt by the church, religion or toxic family. The church has and continues to do a lot of harm, both on the individual and global level. If anyone wants a rant about colonization of Latin America, I’m your girl. I just dislike this black-and-white mindset that Matt is either Catholic or gay.  

If anyone has questions, I can try to answer. I’m not a theology expert, I’m just a virgo and a fanfic writer. 

[astrobravo]

For day 1 of Scoteng Week! I did write it on day 1 but I needed to gather courage to post

I attempted to write Scotland's accent. I'm sorry.

Prompt: Anger from worry / Inconvenient Attraction

Summary: A dialogue-only fic about a sexventure gone wrong between the lads, but it all comes out okay in the end. ♡

—

“Hold still ye fucken weapon. Almost… almost– uh-oh.”

“Uh-oh? What do you mean uh-oh?”

“It slipped again. I don't think this is workin, Arthur–”

“Shut it. Shut your mouth right now and get your fingers back in there and FIX this.”

“I’ve been trying! It’s not moving.”

“It will move! It will move!!!”

“I cannae even SEE it anymore…”

“It’s because you keep shoving it back in with your sausage fingers!! Give it a minute!”

“A minute? I’ve been four fingers deep in yer ass for near an hour and a half!”

"So you’re giving up already. After all you have done to me.”

“After all I've done to ye? Was I the one who came home from the sin shops with a new dildo in MY sustainable canvas shopping bag? Was I the one who laid a towel down on the sofa next to my fuckpal as he was TRYING to watch the footie, stripped down to my skin, stuck my bony chicken legs into the air, and said, in the exact tone of an exhausted cross-town bus driver, 'Turn off the telly and put your back to the plow, beast'?"

“You’re mocking me in my time of crisis. You have inflicted this hell upon me and I’m going to DIE like this and my tombstone will have YOUR FACE ETCHED UPON IT because you will have KILLED ME with your SAUSAGE FINGERS and MOCKED me on my DEATHBED-”

“Ye said ye wanted to stay on the sofa… didye want me to move you to the bed?”

“NO! When this is over you’re going to be sleeping on this couch for the rest of your LIFE, you giant OX-”

“So yer lying on my deathbed then.”

“I can’t believe this. I'm going to die because of your perversions and you're refusing to take my suffering seriously–”

“MY perversions??? That's rich. That's rich!”

"What? You're the one who got so enthusiastic about sticking it to me that the flared base slipped in!”

"YOU SHOULDNAE BOUGHT ONE WITH SUCH WEE BOLLOCKS! USELESS!"

"IT WAS ON SALE! NO ONE ASKED YOU TO GET THAT ENTHUSIASTIC!"

“YE WERE INTO IT!!! YE WERE INTO IT!!!”

“AND NOW IT’S IN ME AND WE’RE BOTH FUCKED!”

"CALM DOWN AND STOP CLENCHING-"

"DON’T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN!! I'M CALM! I'M UNCLENCHED!"

“JUST BREATHE!"

"YOU BREATHE! IT'S PRACTICALLY POKING ME IN MY LUNG!"

"OKAY!! Okay. Okay. Arthur… I think it might be time to consider alternative options.”

“We are NOT going to the A&E.”

“Oh, agreed.”

“Wh- you wouldn’t take me to the A&E?”

“I would! Do ye wanna go? Let’s fucken go!”

“No! You know ours is a teaching hospital! I REFUSE to have a gaggle of med students gather around my deathbed and stare into the depths of my fundament with their greasy, judgy, born post-2000 faces! YOU'RE the one who INSISTED on basting me like a Sunday roast-”

“Ye said ya LIKED the slipperiness of the new lube!!"

"-and now look where your decisions have brought us."

"We're getting off track. Arthur, listen to me. There's one thing we haven't tried yet."

"OH and you were saving it for a rainy day? A special occasion? The diamond jubilee?"

"I got up to four in you."

"I'm WELL AWARE-"

"What if. Five."

"..."

"Now hear me out-"

"Your hands are the size of garden trowels-"

"-I could get a better grip-"

"-and you want to rummage around in me and pluck it out like the last crisp in the bag? I've SEEN the poor crisp bags after you're done having your way with them-"

"-pull it right out, and then we'll worry nae more about it."

"-shredded! Like a fox went through the bins!"

"It's either this or the med students."

"..."

"..."

"You'll go slow."

"Slow as ye please."

"And you'll stop when I say."

"Aye, the very moment."

"Christ alive. Fine. Fine. Get in me."

"Alrigh', let me lube up–"

"TO YOUR FOREARM?"

"I've been staring into your asshole for almost two hours. I'm doin what I gotta do here. Alright, I'm goin in."

"FUCKING HELL don't START with four!"

"It's fine, look, they slid right in. There we go. And, breathe in-"

"Ugh–"

"Alrigh', just hold it there, keep breathing, you're doing so well–"

"Hah…hah… huff…"

"That's it. That's it. I'm gonna tuck my thumb in now, just keep breathing–"

"Christ–!"

"Don' tense up on me now! Easy, easy, let me in– oh."

"Alasdair…"

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm in ye. I'm all in. I can feel your heartbeat around me. Yer holding me so tight, yer burning up inside…"

"Wha… the fuck– are you getting hard right now?"

"I cannae help it, you're so open and soft and clenching so tight on me, maybe don't do tha'–"

"BECAUSE YOUR HAND IS UP MY ASS! Let me put my hand up your ass and see if you clench, you insufferable bastard!'

"God, I love ye."

"Wha...did you seriously– HOW DARE THE FIRST TIME YOU SAY THAT BE WHEN YOUR HAND IS UP MY ASS! I demand a do-over!!!"

"Every day, sweetheart, as much as ye like. Just a little deeper, let me in…

"Haa… haa…"

"Oh- I've found the end of it! Hold on now, you're doing so well, don't clench– I got it… I got it, hold on!"

"Guh- BE GENTLE!!"

"Sorry, sorry. Ok. Ok I've got a good grip. Gonnae gently draw it out. Breathe in–"

"Hah, hah… ha-ah!"

"Here it comes, breathe–"

"Alasdair– GAH!"

"It's out! It's out!"

"Haah…"

"I don't see any blood, I think yer alright. You're still open a little–"

"Dont look… -hic- don't– -sniff-"

"It's alright. It's alright. Just let it out. C'mere, lemme hold ye."

"-Sniff- No, you don't have to…"

"Ow, fuck, fucken elbows like scythes– there."

"I hate you."

"It's alright. I love ye."

"I…love you, too. Unfortunately."

"My condolences."

♡　The End　♡

[sunwarmed-ash]

🔥Sinful Sunday🔥

Chapter 13: Say you love me

Fandom: Stranger Things

Ships: Steddiegrove, Buckingham (BillyxEddiexSteve MAIN & ChrissyxRobin very minor atm)

Rating/Word Count: Explicit (adult sexual content), 60k+ WIP

Tags: Brat!Eddie, Baby!Billy, Daddy!Steve, threesome, oral sex, accidental voyeurism, BDSM, headspaces, spanking, praise kink, subspace, aftercare, 6k of smut really 😈

Summary:

It's empty in the living room when the three boys come back inside. 

“Maybe they all went to bed?” Steve offered unconvincingly, to even himself because his assumption trailed off part way through. 

Billy looked at him like he was being unnecessarily naive, and Eddie smirked at the other juicier possibility. Hell he hoped Robin was getting laid. But in the instance she wasn't, he still needed to go check in, lest he wishes to kiss his balls goodbye forever. 

“Well, I’m gonna at least try and find Robin. If we’re crashing here that's fine. I just don’t need to incur the wrath of a scorned lesbian if we’re not.”

Steve chuckled at that, and Billy gave him a surprising gentle half smile. “You guys gonna be good here?”

Steve and Billy looked at eachother, before awkwardly, purposefully, refusing to look at the other. Eddie’s eyes rolled so hard they almost fell out of his head. God it was like watching a couple of 13 year olds! We did not develop the plot this far just for the two of them to chicken out without the support of an audience. At least not if Eddie had anything to say about it... “Well, if you decide to fuck, just make sure you save a spot for me.”

That blunt statement broke something loose in the boys, Steve especially. His eyes narrowed on Eddie before he took a purposeful step forward. Eddie’s cock twitched in interest but his boot took a defensive step back. 

“Bold of you to assume you're getting another orgasm before you're getting punished for disobeying a direct request slut.”

Steve's stern and sudden personality shift into Dom Mode made Eddie physically shudder. He almost dropped to his knees and offered to suck his cock for forgiveness right then and there. Instead he whispered out a surprised, 

“Fuck, Steve.” 

Steve’s left eyebrow rose and he took another step closer. 

“What was that?” 

Whoops. Wrong answer. Eddie blinked up to look at Steve, mouth hanging open in surprise. 

“N-Nothing. You're right, I’m sorry Daddy.”

Steve took two more steps forward to close the distance, reaching into Eddie’s hair and tugging just the way he knew he liked. Eddie whimpered and his knees trembled and threatened to fold. Steve’s firm grip and his thigh now slotted between his legs and pressing against his crotch soon became the only thing to hold him in place. 

“Open your eyes, look at me.”

Eddie moaned and did so, his cock straining hard against denim at the way Dom Steve handled him. “See I don't think you're actually all that sorry Eddie. I think you're being a brat and a slut on purpose. I think, you like it.”

The musician swallowed the dry lump in his throat. 

“Y-Yes,” he admitted. He did, alot. 

Steve tisked his disappointment. Eddie’s cock twitched. 

“Do you know who I let cum Eddie?”

“G-Good boys?” Eddie tried, batting his madeup eyelashes before pulling his lower lip under his canine.

Steve didn't buy the shit Eddie was selling. 

“And have you been a good boy Eddie?”

“No…” Eddie shook his head in the grasp, he hadn’t. He really hadn't. “But- Billy has.”

Billy's jaw dropped open, and his cheeks flushed as he watched the two sets of eyes suddenly land on him. Obviously he wasn't expecting to get pulled into their scene like this, but he was now. 

Steve’s amused and aroused look is on the blonde when he asks,

“Is that right?”

Billy was speechless, so Eddie answered for him. 

“Yes. He came thinking about your big cock splitting him open and filling him Daddy.”

��Eddie,” Billy hissed, but Steve was deflecting the blonde's anger with pointed flirtation. 

“If you want a turn baby, all you have to do is ask Daddy.”

[dcbbw]

Sunday Six 9.24.23

Happy Sunday evening, Tumblrs! I know I have been MIA for the absolute longest, and wanting to give a huge THANK YOU to those who know the dirty deets about what’s been going on this summer, and being the shoulders, ears, support, and encouragement, I need to carry on and carry through one day at a time.

Despite posting two dribbles over the past day or so, not saying I am on the comeback trail, but I have been putting fingers to keyboard, and sharing story ideas. While they are not part of today’s Sunday Six, I am working on Sins of the Father; a part two to Dead in the Water (the How to Get Away with Murder AU), tentatively titled Tell Me When I’m Telling Lies; and a Riam one-shot that may become a casual series titled Happy Family.

What I offer to you tonight dear readers are two new ideas (well one isn’t that new):

Church Folk (the MegaChurch AU) based on Wonder’s worst ever version of Riam; she looks like a cross between Wendy Williams and Dionne Warwick, and has six fingers (five whole ass fingers and a thumb); Asian Liam is a dead ringer for Joel Osteen. They are co-pastors of the First, Last, & Only Cordonian Church of God in Christ where the mottos are:

We’re Alphabet Friendly!

God LOVES a Sinner, and so do we

Jesus Ain’t No Joke!

Think of every megachurch scandal, and give Riley Tammy Faye Baker’s hair …

A Summer Place—The Graduate which is an age-gap romance between Liam and Diana, who is Drake & Riley’s daughter. Except Liam doesn’t know, and Diana knows nothing about Cordonia except it is where her parents’ once-great love story originated.

There will be two versions to this story; Version B is titled A Summer Place—Mrs. Robinson, where Riley has an age-gap romance with Andreas, Liam’s son who visits NYC for the summer before starting University. Again, they have no idea of the other.

I realize others are writing age-gap/forbidden romances, but I am hopeful that my ideas and execution will make mine different from what's out there. And it’s me; by the time I finish writing the stories, it isn’t as if I’ll be glutting the market with the trope.

Okay, enough rambling; sneak peeks are below the cut, and as usual everything is in a state of rough draft and published product may vary.

Church Folk (song inspo: Church Clap, KB/Lecrae):

Their courtship had lasted two years; at Liam’s insistence, it had been chaste as well. At least for one of them.

The couple attended church together: Monday night Praise and Devotionals, Wednesday evening Bible study, couples therapy on Saturday mornings, 11am Sunday Sermon.

Between work and church activities, Liam and Riley dated; meals, museums, hikes, volunteering at soup kitchens. No matter the time or venue, all tended to end with them getting hot and heavy in the back seat of his car: Moans, groans, fogged windows; deep French kisses, groping of breasts and fondling of balls, arching and thrusting of hips. All the while keeping their clothes on.

The son of a preacher man never allowed himself to finger Riley nor for her to stroke his manhood.

Penetration was completely out of the question.

Riley often thought it was because of her 6th finger, and that despite his protests, Liam really could not deal with it. But he assured his bride-to-be between desperate kisses that it didn’t matter. Saving themselves for marriage did.

Liam Osteen Rhys firmly believed Riley had been sent to him; her polydactyl was a sign from God Himself that this woman was to be his wife. In the biblical sense, her extra finger was a sign of both wealth and that she was a messenger of God. Liam needed the former, FLOCC needed the latter. In the scientific sense, persons with polydactyl were proven to be stronger and more dexterous than those without.

Yes, Riley B. Williams was his good thing, and he wasn’t letting lust interfere. So, after every date while Riley sat alone in her bedroom with her battery-operated boyfriend and Pornhub pulled up on her phone, Liam visited Maybelle Nussbaum, his high school sweetheart.

If all had gone according to Liam’s plan, he would be wedded to Maybelle already, but his father absolutely forbade an inter-faith marriage. Only one version of God would be worshipped in the Rhys family, and THEIR God believed in ham, bacon, shrimp, and one day to celebrate the birth of Christ.

With Maybelle, Liam could go all the way, and he did. Every time. Sometimes protection was used, but most times not. The future preacher was convinced God wouldn’t allow anything bad to happen to him because he always sought forgiveness afterwards.

On their wedding day, all of Cordonia’s press outlets were present, as well as most of the town; the Rhys family was practically royalty in the small suburb, and everyone wanted to be in attendance for the wedding of a lifetime. Liam stood at the altar with his father, best man and groomsmen, occasionally looking over the crowd still being seated.

His eyes widened when the doors to the ceremony room opened and Maybelle Nussbaum strode through, wearing baggy sweatpants, a vomit-stained tee shirt, and her hair in a messy blonde bun. A swaddled infant rested in the crook of one arm; her free hand pulled a rolling suitcase behind her.

Liam had broken it off with his lover exactly 13 months earlier; he needed to focus on being a husband and ensure no hint of scandal touched his betrothment. He did it via text message and promptly blocked Maybelle’s number and deleted their chat history. And that was the end of that.

Or so he thought.

“Here ya go, Liam! You left this in my uterus right before you blocked me,” the new mother said loudly and cheerily as she placed the baby in a non-plussed Liam’s arms.

The murmurs and whispers amongst the guests began immediately. Constantine’s complexion turned a vague shade of purple. The groomsmen’s eyes went between Maybelle and Liam, who was sputtering and stammering as he protested.

“YOU CANNOT LEAVE ME WITH THIS CHILD, MAYBELLE!” Liam thundered.

“Why not? You did it to me,” Maybelle retorted as she rolled the suitcase up to the altar. “Everything you need is in there. I’m gonna skedaddle now. Take good care of her.”

The scorned lover slipped out a side door just as the Wedding March began to play.

A Summer Place—The Graduate (Version A, Liam)

Song Inspo: Parallel, Emlie Kahn

The server and the sovereign stood at the balcony’s railing as they awaited their food. The dock surrounding the sea harbor was gaily decorated with colorful streamers and balloons. The intricately painted dragon boats sat in their slips, bobbing against the gently cresting aquamarine sea while crew members worked on last minute inspections and details before the race.  

Diana’s chocolate brown eyes were wide with excitement as they took in the scene before her.  

“This is amazing! I’ve never seen anything like this. Montana is basically bull riding, which is literally flags and cowboy hats. And the ocean … it’s so blue and clear, like something out of a painting!” 

Liam studied her profile, wondering why he had the nagging feeling he had seen her before. Her olive complexion, high cheekbones, the curvature of her full lips. It was as if he had seen her features on another face, but not in this particular order. 

“It’s the Aegan Sea,” he gently corrected her, “and yes, it’s a beautiful sight.” 

Diana felt her cheeks flush crimson, as embarrassment flooded her body. She stared up at Liam contritely. “I’m sorry, you must think I’m a goof!” 

Liam’s arm reached out and his palm gently patted the back of her hand. “Why would I think that? You simply didn’t know. It’s your first time here.” 

Diana’s eyes went between Liam’s hand on hers and his eyes, which were filled with a gentle emotion.  

“You’re fine,” he assured her as his other hand ran fingers through her hair, tucking strands behind her ear.  

She felt a pleasant shiver at his touch, which she quickly dismissed as her imagination. Yes, Liam was manly perfection with his trim physique, head full of hair untouched by gray, and the face of a Greek god. But he was her father’s age and had women across the country and continent ready to do his bidding.  

She was a tourist that would be leaving in a couple of months. A nobody, 24 years his junior who didn’t know an ocean from a sea. Diana slowly pulled her hand away from his.  

“So, what’s for lunch? I’m starving!” she said a little more loudly than intended.  

“Oh, you are in for a treat!” Liam grinned. “Mediterranean seafood pie, scallops in a lemon garlic cream sauce, lobster tails stuffed with crabmeat, crab imperial …" 

“Oh my God! It’s like Red Lobster!” Diana exclaimed as she clapped her hands together.  

Liam looked puzzled. “Red Lobster?” 

“It’s an American surf and turf chain restaurant. It’s delicious!” 

“I can only hope Portavira lives up to such a lofty ideal.” 

Tagging: @jared2612​​​ @ao719​ @marietrinmimi​ @indiacater​​​ @kingliam2019​ @bebepac​​​ @liamxs-world @mom2000aggie​​​ @liamrhysstalker2020​​ @twinkleallnight​​​ @umccall71 @superharriet​​​ @busywoman​​​ @gabesmommie1130 @tessa-liam​​​ @beezm​​​ @gardeningourmet​​​ @lovingchoices14​​​ @mainstreetreader​​​ @angelasscribbles​​​ @lady-calypso @emkay512​​​ @princessleac1​​​ @charlotteg234 @alj4890​ @motorcitymademadame​​​ @queenmiarys​​​ ​​​ @choicesficwriterscreations

[texas-writes]

“Bible Study”

Cw: mentions of abuse,puritan culture, secret relationship

You trembled as you sat at the table across from your father. He was calm, too calm. His collected demeanor was merely a mask to cover the rage he would inevitably let loose on you.

“I’ve heard things about you, y/n. Things I don’t want to be hearin’. You been disappearin’ a lot more and people are saying you’ve been running around with boys.”

You fight the urge to turn your eyes away from your father’s as you think about the last few months. You had been running around, though not with boys. You’d been spending every free moment you had with a man. A godly man, whom you trusted to protect you from the forces of the Devil while he used your body for sin.

“I haven’t been running around. I’ve been with Father Sunday, you can ask him. You know how I struggle to grasp my readings. He’s been kind enough to help me with the word.” You state, trying your best to sound as innocent as possible.

“Get up,” he snaps, causing you to jump in your seat, straightening your spine to attention as you stand.

“Where are we going,” you question, voice trembling as all the possible punishments your father could lay on you race through your mind.

“We’re going to have a word with Father Sunday, and if he doesn't corroborate your story you best hope we’re out of grits,” he growls, grabbing the back of your neck forcefully and guiding you towards the front door, jolting you harshly as you struggle to keep up.

He marches you across the field to the chapel beneath the tree and kicks the door open, pushing you down the aisle to where Eli kneels before the cross, his head bowed in prayer.

“Father Sunday,” your father calls, startling Eli from his task. “I’m terribly sorry to bother you so late in the evening, but I have reason to believe my daughter’s gotten herself into a predicament.”

Eli stands and turns to face you, taking your hands in his and gently pulling you away from your fathers grasp. “Oh that’s quite alright. What ails you child,” he hums, bringing his palm up to rest on your forehead.

“Word around town is that she’s been running around with boys and getting up to ungodly things.”

“Oh, no no,” Eli murmurs, moving your body so his view of your father is unobstructed. “That’s simply not true. She’s been here with me, studying. I know how she struggles and how terribly she wishes to be close to God. She’s done nothing wrong, and I’ll make sure everybody knows that. I was worried when she didn’t make it this afternoon, was it at your discretion sir?”

“I kept her home to question her on the matter.”

“I see,” Eli hums, looking over at you, taking notice of the way your hand trembled in his. “Would you still like to study this evening instead? I’ve got plenty of lamp oil.”

You nod softly at his offer. “Yes sir, I’d appreciate it.”

Eli releases your hand and turns his attention to your father. “She’s in good hands, sir. I’ll see to it that she gets home safe.”

You watch as your father nods curtly, merley giving Eli a grunt as he turns on his heel and retreats through the heavy doors of the church.

As soon as the door slams behind him you fall into Eli, a sob wracking your body as his arms wrap around you. “Oh Eli, thank you. Thank you.”

Eli’s hands grip your shoulder as he pushes you away to look at your face. “What’s he done to you now?”

“Nothing. He didn’t do anything this time. If your story hadn’t agreed he’d have made me kneel in grits again.”

“Oh darling, my darling girl. I won’t allow it. I’ll make my next sermon about sparing the rod, he’s sure to listen,” he rambles, his hands roaming hurriedly as the pads of his fingers trace the contours of your face, wiping your tears away.

“Eli, that won’t do a thing.”

“You should marry me. If we got married I could take you away from him for good. He could never put his hands on you again. We wouldn't even have to share a bed if you don’t want to.”

“Please, Eli, I don’t want to think about that anymore.”

His arms relax, pulling you towards him and the weight of his head resting on yours comforts you. “Alright then. I understand. Let’s go into the study.”

“Of course Eli, let’s,” you hum, allowing him to lead you into his study and settle you into the chair across from him.

“So aside from your father, how have you been since I last saw you, darling,” he questions, reaching across his desk to take your hands into his once again.

“I’ve been well, just helping mother with the canning for winter when I’m not with you.”

“Do you like being here, with me?”

“Of course I do Eli, I wouldn’t come around if I didn’t. I- I do love you, you know.”

“I love you too, darling. I meant what I said. I would like to marry you.”

“We can’t now, my father’s already suspicious. Just give it a year, then we’ll be safe.”

Eli sighs, leaning to rest his head on his arm. “I wish he wasn’t so cruel to you. I’d kill him if I could.”

“Eli, don’t talk like that. It’s sinful.”

“All I care about is you. I just want you to be free.”

“And I will be in time.”

He sighs again and brings you hand to his lips, kissing it gently and looking up at you.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he hums, making a warm blush creep across your cheeks. “I haven’t done right by you and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you to take so many risks for me.”

“I wouldn’t have if I didn’t want to.”

“I haven’t forced your hand?”

“Never,” you reply, pulling him into a kiss. “I’m my own woman, I don’t need a preacher-man to guide me. I understand the Bible just as well as you, you know, I just wanted a reason to spend time with you.”

He laughs and brings his hand to cup your cheek. “Well, I’m glad your father thinks you’re as foolish as he is.”

[teenagegoldrush]

The Cross

words: 9,213

MASTERLIST Season Two

A/N: I do not claim to, nor do I own Outer Banks; the concept, characters, plot, etc

DAY TWENTY-ONE

The next morning, Andy awoke to an empty bed. She was extremely disoriented, compared to her usual state of disoriented-ness. She was wearing only her underwear and a random sweatshirt, which due to the fit, she assumed, was Kie’s, and the door was wide-open.

She took a moment to remind herself what happened the night before: Bonfire, borderline-blackout drunk, fighting club, camp fire, almost die, sleep with JJ….Right.

She could hear her friends usual raucous from down the hall, but before joining them, she decided she should shower. So she did.

Andy examined her face in the foggy mirror, wiping a spot for herself.

Her bottom lip was split, thanks to Yvonne, and her knuckles on both hands were split open. The only other “injuries” she had, were that her knees were bruised up, but they were always bruised.

She brushed her teeth, fixed her hair up a bit, got dressed, and sleepily shuffled down the hall, and out to the sun room, where her friends were.

John B was slouched on one of the arm chairs, sunglasses covering his eyes, Kie was laid up on a couch, her beanie over her eyes, Pope was sat in one of the wicker chairs, wrapped in a blanket.

JJ was leaning against the wall, a foam basketball in his hand.

“And she rises!” John B said, peering at her over his glasses.

She shrugged, sitting down beside Kie’s feet. “With the sun.”

Pope laughed, mockingly. “Sun came up like two hours ago.”

“Tomato, tomat-o.” Andy narrowed her eyes at him. “What have I missed?”

“Just discussing last night’s unfortunate events.” Kie replied, her voice muffled by her arm as she had it over her head.

“What kinda injuries you got?” John B nodded at her.

She held her hands up, showing her knuckles. “Busted my hands open, bruised my knees.” She patted her lip. “Split lip too, but I’ll live.”

JJ shrugged, toying with the ball in his hands. “Could always be worse- Hey.”

His eyes trailed to the door, across the room, where Sarah was entering. “Well hello Princess.”

“What’s up?” Kie groaned, pulling the beanie off her eyes.

“Shouldn’t you be on Figure 8 with your little group of polo players?” John B asked, sitting up. “Or did you break up with Topper?”

Sarah grinned at him, narrowing her eyes. “We’re just friends.”

“You seem to have a lot of friends Sarah Cameron…” John B’s eyes followed her.

“Yeah and it seems you have some of your own too.” Sarah snapped back.

“Alright, what are you doing here?” He asked, growing tired of the childish argument.

Sarah sat down in a chair next to Pope. “I’m here for Pope.”

Pope’s eyes widened in surprise. “I think I found the island room.”

Pope sat upright, throwing the blanket off of him. “What? What are you talking about?”

Sarah nodded. “The Island Room. It’s at Tannyhill.”

Pope’s eyes never got smaller as he looked around the room at everyone.

“Well shit, let’s load up ya’ll. We gotta go!” JJ made the first move, clapping his hands so that everyone would get a move on.

They all got up, going their separate ways to find their shoes and then meeting up at the van, where John B drove them towards Tannyhill.

“Okay, listen to this.” Pope announced, reading from his copy of Tanny’s diary. “The diary says the cross holds the most holy relic in all of Christendom, the Garment of the Savior.”

“So there’s a holy garment, inside a holy artifact?” Andy questioned.

“Yes.” Pope nodded. “It says the garment is capable of healing the sick from any malady-“

“”If only I may touch His garment, I shall be made well.”” JJ recited, looking over Pope’s shoulder.

Pope whipped around to look at him.

“What! I went to Sunday school.” JJ shrugged.

“Well that explains why Limbrey wants the cross so bad.” Kie said. “She thinks it can heal her. What else does it say?”

“”Many feel that we have sinned, to steal such a sacred thing. And God will strike his vengeance on us.”” Pope replied.

“That’s the thing.” Andy shook her head.

“God did have his vengeance.” Kie agreed.

“He sent a hurricane to sink the ship.” Pope sighed. “Only Denmark survived.”

Heavy vibes settled over the group again, making the rest of the ride a silent one.

When they arrived at Tannyhill, Sarah let them in, Kie following closely by her, then Pope, and Andy, JJ and John B last.

The house was silent. Assumedly, Wheezie was at school, Rafe was god-knows-where, and Rose was at the Cameron offices.

“This place still freaks me out.” John B mumbled.

“Yeah, same.” JJ agreed, as they walked through the labyrinth of hallways in the mansion.

Sarah lead them to a room at the end of a hallway. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Pope practically gasped when he stepped inside.

“Yep, I know, right? It’s the island room.” Sarah shrugged, as the others entered the room. “It’s been here this whole time.”

The room seemed to be a dining room. The table was set for a party, and a china cabinet was stocked with plates, bowls and cutlery.

“This definitely means something.” JJ did a double-take of the room.

Each of them went to a different part of the mural, examining and trying to decipher the images.

Andy came across Rixton’s Cove, and looked across the room, to where the old church was on the wall. “This is a map of the island.” She said, speaking for the first time in awhile.

“Yeah, D, you’re right.” JJ nodded, walking over to her. “Rixton’s here. Then the lighthouse.” JJ pointed at the wall in front of her.

“Guys look. Parcel 9 and the well.” Kie ran her hand along her wall.

“So if that’s Parcel 9, and this is Rixton’s-“ Andy turned to look at the far wall. “That’s the surf break at Mase.”

Two houses on a hill, surrounded by water.

JJ and John B followed her, John B, holding the copies of Tanny’s diary.

“Pope, c’mere.” JJ said, concentrating. “This is Denmark’s handwriting, for sure.”

Pope joined them as JJ snatched the drawing out of John B’s hand and held it up for comparison. The drawings were almost identical.

“Denmark, you genius!” Pope cheered. “These are all his drawings, he painted the whole room.”

“The question is why.” Kie said, still looking at her wall. “What’s he trying to tell us?”

“It’s gotta have something to do with the key, right?” JJ asked, rhetorically.

“How did you know to uncover this?” John B asked, turning to Sarah.

“I didn’t.” She replied, a confused look on her face. “It was like this when I got home.”

Andy’s heart dropped. Somebody beat them to it.

Limbrey.

“Okay, then who did it?” Kie asked.

“I don’t know!” Sarah shrugged.

“The freaks.” Wheezie said, appearing out of nowhere and scaring them all.

“Jesus Christ!” JJ clutched his chest.

“Wheeze? Aren’t you supposed to be in school?” Sarah asked, walking over to her.

“Wait, what freaks are we talking about Wheezie?” JJ asked.

“That sick lady and her attack dogs.” Wheezie nodded. “They showed up last night and wanted to talk to Rafe.”

Rafe. Great.

Rafe’s potential involvement just made the game a thousand times more dangerous and unpredictable. Especially after his stunt with Sarah at the boat lot.

“Pale blond lady? With crutches?” JJ asked.

Wheezie nodded to both statements.

“It’s gotta be Limbrey.” John B said. “What happened?”

“Well they searched the whole house looking for something. Then Rafe told me to go upstairs. But I didn’t wanna miss out so I listened through the grate.”

“Where was Rose?” Sarah asked.

“Around here somewhere. You know how she is. Quiet as a mouse.” Wheezie replied. “And they were talking about getting across the sand flamingo.”

“That’s code for something.” JJ nodded.

“The cross?” Andy asked. “The Cross of Santo Domingo.”

Wheezie nodded. “Yes, yep. That’s it. They were talking about angels. A lot of angel talk.”

“Angels?” John B asked.

“Denmark’s famous last words.” Pope said, eyes wide again. “He buried the real treasure at the foot of the angel. They’re looking for an angel. We need to find an angel in the room!”

He immediately began to search through the paintings for an angel.

Everyone else followed his lead, examining the walls, inch by inch and looking for an angel. They were all speaking out loud, the room becoming more and more chaotic the longer they looked.

“What’s going on? Are you guys gonna tell me?” Wheezie asked, as she watched them all.

They ignored her.

“Hey, yo, I found something!” JJ shouted, making them all go silent.

“This humongous tree is still on Goat Island.” He placed his palm against the painting of a huge knotted oak tree.

“Oh yeah.” Andy nodded, approaching him. “That’s where we used to go when we didn’t want Big John to bust us smoking weed.”

“It’s called Angel Oak.” JJ replied. “And look right there, it’s a key hole.” He pointed to a keyhole painted at the center of the tree.

“That means the cross is buried at the foot of the angel.” Pope recited. “That must be where he put it. That must be where they are right now, we have to go!”

“I think I’m Sherlock Holmes, right?” JJ grinned, proud of his discovery. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“‘Kay, hurry up Sherlock.” Andy shook her head, pulling him out the door as everyone else bolted towards the van.

John B drove once again, back towards the Cut to get to Goat Island

“Freedman’s church.” Pope said as they passed the oldest church on the island. “The church Denmark built for all the slaves he freed.”

As they came across the land-bridge, they could see the oak in the distance, towering over the crops.

“Oh shit. Tide’s coming in.” John B groaned, slamming to a stop.

Andy leaned up between him and JJ, seeing that the road was a muddy mess, and the water would start slowly rising soon.

“They already came through here.” Pope pointed at the road. “Those have to be Limbrey’s tire tracks.”

“Mmm, what do you think chief?” JJ ignored him, looking over at John B.

“Lookin’ a little dicey.” John B shrugged.

“Yeah, I’m gonna have to agree with that statement.” JJ nodded.

“Twinkie can take it.” Andy said, patting the dashboard.

“Why are ya’ll acting like you’re not gonna do it anyway?” Sarah asked, trying not to laugh. “Like when have ya’ll ever done the safe thing?

John B looked at JJ, then at Andy. “She’s got a point.”

“Speed is your friend here.” JJ sat upright, bracing himself. “Put her in second and hammer down, bro.”

“Stick to the ground in the middle.” Pope reminded them.

John B let off the brake, shifting into second, and flooring it. “You’re not gonna make it. You’re not going fast enough!” JJ shouted.

Andy crouched on the floor, one hand on each headrest as she watched through the cracked windshield, the mud pit grow closer.

They fishtailed a bit, and Pope was muttering complaints as they barely made it through the mud.

“That’s my girl!” John B cheered, smacking the steering wheel.

“Twinkie’s nothing if not reliable.” Andy nodded as they finally made a stop.

“Angel Oak, right through here.” JJ climbed out of the van, motioning to a small path cut through the trees. “And word to the wise: there’s definitely gator nests out here, so keep your eyes peeled, right?”

“Gators have nests…?” Kie asked, questioning JJ’s credibility.

“Yeah?” JJ said, matter-of-factly. “You don’t wanna be a Pat Womack. Got her calf chewed off by an alligator.”

“That’s actually not true?” Kie corrected him. “Pat Womack was injured in a car accident, but I hear you.”

“Okay, just live in ignorance.” JJ shrugged, grabbing a big stick as they were walking. “But she had half her calf chewed off by a mama gator and that’s just a fact. They like the brackish water.”

JJ stopped, standing over the ledge of a patch of water. “Hang on, I see something.”

Andy sighed, knowing exactly what he was doing. He was playing a scare-tactic with Kie and Sarah, just something to liven up the energy.

JJ crouched down, the stick slung over his shoulder. Without a word, he smacked the stick into the water twice.

“Right. Wake them up. How smart.” Sarah shook her head.

JJ shrugged, standing upright. “I was just making sure it wasn’t a gator. That’s all.”

He dropped the stick, throwing his arm around Andy’s shoulders, and they began to follow Pope through the brush towards the tree.

The closer they got, the louder the island became.

They crouched down behind some bushes, watching as Limbrey, her “assistant”, Rafe, and a whole excavation team dug up the ground around the tree.

Limbrey was sat, in an old beach chair, supervising as the team lifted a casket out of one of the holes in the ground.

“They got the cross?” JJ nudged Andy. “What do we do?”

“Just shush and watch!” She nudged him back.

Rafe pried the casket open, and Andy could see Limbrey’s shoulders drop. It wasn’t the cross.

“We’re going back! We’re going back, it’s not over!” She shouted, announcing to her employees.

The workers listened, loading up their equipment and tools, and driving their vehicles out of the swamp.

The Pogues ducked behind the bush, waiting until there was complete silence to stand back up.

Pope went first, stomping his way over to the casket that was left above ground.

Andy quickly chased after him, the rest of them following. “Cecelia Tanny, Denmark’s wife.” Pope said, crouched over the open casket.

Andy frowned, staring at the remains of Cecelia. Just a skull, and some dirt. “So they unearthed her and left her here… To the elements.”

Pope stood up, turning to look at her with solemn eyes, then turning back to the tree. “He wasn’t talking about the cross. He buried her at the foot of the angel.”

Andy sighed, understanding what Pope was saying. To Denmark Tanny, his wife was his treasure. The true treasure. Buried at the foot of the angel.

“The true treasure.” She said, peering up at the tree.

Pope turned back around, teary-eyed, and sat down beside the coffin. “Denmark was hung for burying his wife. And now they defiled her grave.”

Andy sat down beside him, leaning her head on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.

The rest of their friends sat down around the casket, and Sarah reached inside, pulling out a small gold ring.

“This must’ve been her wedding ring.” She and John B shared a look.

“We can’t leave her like this.” Pope said.

Andy lifted her head from his shoulder. “No. Of course not.” She nodded to JJ and John B.

They all stood, the boys lifting the lid back onto the casket. Pope and Sarah went searching for some flowers while JJ and John B hammered the lid.

Pope returned with a bundle of wild flowers, placing them on top of the box.

Everyone stepped back to give him some space, then the three boys carefully maneuvered the casket back into the hole, and JJ and Andy began shoveling dirt on top of it again.

In the mean-time, Kie and John B went back to the van, bringing it inland to where they were. Sarah sat at the base of the tree, listening as Pope paced back and forth and expressed his grievances to them.

“I still don’t get it. You guys saw the map!”

“He hides his gold so nobody finds it for one-hundred and seventy years. And then he sends a message to his son Robert, to come to his mother’s grave. But-“

“The message never makes it.” Sarah nods, knowing the story.

Andy bushed the dirt off of her jeans, handing her shovel to JJ and he put them in the back of the van.

Shoutout to the excavation crew for leaving them, conveniently.

“Denmark wanted him to find the cross. It was his legacy, I know we’re in the right spot. It just feels like-“

“Like we missed something?” JJ asked, staring up at the tree.

Andy turned, confused as to what he was looking at. “What’s up?” She asked, walking over to him.

He ignored her, climbing up to the roof of the van. Albeit confused, Andy followed him, climbing up to stand beside him on the roof.

He nudged her with his elbow, staring at the center of the tree, where a hole, exactly like the keyhole in the painting was.

“Bullseye.” JJ grinned, tapping the tree bark.

“It’s the keyhole.” Andy said, looking down at the others. “From the painting at Tannyhill.”

She looked back at JJ. “It’s worth a shot, right?” She shrugged as he stepped aside. “Go for it.”

Andy scoffed. “No chance, slick. You’re the one who discovered it, you stick your hand in.” JJ wouldn’t move. “If I recall correctly, I did almost drown in the storm drain so…”

Below them Kie nodded. “She did almost drown. It’s totally your turn.”

JJ sighed. “Yeah, no I’m gonna do it.” He pulled his sleeve back. “It’s just-“

“He’s scared?” Andy suggested, watching over JJ’s shoulder.

“I am not scared dude.” He scoffed, peering back at her.

“You seem scared.” Andy grinned.

JJ shook his head, wiggling his hand around to find a suitable position for it to fit inside the tree, and then sticking it in. All the way up to his shoulder.

“There’s something in here.” He said, focusing on whatever his hand was feeling. “Wait-“

“Shit!” JJ shouted, his arm being tugged inside the tree. He screamed, scaring the shit out of Andy.

She grabbed his shoulder, using all her strength to pull him back, and his arm out of the tree.

JJ stopped suddenly, pulling his arm out of the tree, and laughing. Andy’s mouth opened in shock as she let go of his body.

“Oh, you asshole!” Pope scoffed from below them.

“I got all of you on that one.” JJ laughed, absolutely tickled pink with his prank. “Even you, babe-“ He turned to Andy.

“Move!” Andy snapped, stepping in front of him. Shaking her head, she stuck her arm inside the hole, feeling around for literally anything.

“Is there really something?” Kie asked.

Andy’s hand wrapped around something cold and cylindrical. Almost like a soda can, but too long. “Yeah, hold on.” She pulled at it, slowly maneuvering it out of the hole.

In her hand was a capsule. Big enough to hold with both of her hands. She handed it down to Pope, who had his hand held up to her.

John B held his arm out, and she grabbed it, jumping down from the roof of the van.

JJ followed her, and Pope handed the capsule back to her. “H.M.S Royal Merchant.” She read, dusting the engravement off with her finger.

JJ snatched it from her hands. “Give it to the captain!” He grinned, stepping away from her and extending it. “It’s a spyglass.”

“No, there’s something on the end!” Andy scoffed, noticing more inscriptions.

She grabbed it back from him, holding it so she and Pope could look at it.

“”You’ve come this far, do not falter. The cross is on the Freedman’s alter.”” Pope read from the spyglass.

“Freedman’s alter.” Andy repeated. “The cross is at the church.”

Pope smiled, taking the spyglass from her and closing it up.

“What are we doing here guys, we gotta goooo!” JJ shook his head, confused as to why they were all still standing around.

That was all it took for them to jump back into action, piling back into the van and heading back across the island.

They made it fairly far, before they came back to the patch of water they encountered before, except this now if had transformed into a pond.

“Shit. The tide.” Pope groaned.

“How deep d’ya think?” Andy asked, leaning back up in the front.

John B shrugged. “Can’t tell. The road’s gone.”

He slammed the van to a stop, the six of them staring at the water. “The tide rose a little faster than I thought…” JJ said.

“So how high are the spark plugs?” Andy asked.

“Uh… they’re good? We’re fine. We’ll be fine.” John B replied, clutching the wheel.

“That’s very convincing.” She nodded. “How high are they?” She repeated.

He winced, turning and poking his head out the window. “Just above the tail light.”

“So… three feet?”

JJ nodded. “Three feet.”

“There’s no way that water is three feet deep.” Kie said.

JJ smiled. “So then there’s no problem. We’re good, she’ll make it.”

Andy raised her eyebrows at his blind faith in the Twinkie’s capabilities. She was a van, not a submarine.

“Ladies and gentlemen, fasten your seatbelts and or hold onto something. We’re going into hyperdrive.” John B announced.

Andy braced herself, gripping both the seats as she squatted between him and JJ. John B shifted into second again, and hit the gas.

“And, splash!” She said as the front tires plowed through the water.

They were actually moving pretty decently, and making good time. Until the mud beneath them got the better of the tires and suddenly they were wedged between two trees.

Twinkie’s engine sputtered, crying for help. “I think we miscalculated.” Andy mumbled, sitting back on her feet.

“I knew I should’ve driven.” JJ shrugged.

A few moments of silence passed, and they all decided to climb out the back.

Andy winced as she stepped into the murky water, it rose just below her knees, water seeping into her socks.

“Maybe we can walk from here?” Pope suggested, leaning against the van.

“What, and leave the Twinkie? The tide’s coming in, she’ll be gone.” John B replied.

“So then what are we supposed to do?” Sarah asked.

“Not stay here.” JJ said, growing fidgety.

“I can take my dad’s truck.” Kie suggested. “I just gotta get home and get the keys.”

Kie still had time to change things with her mom and dad. Running away from home wasn’t the absolute worst thing she could do. It was fixable.

Stealing your dad’s truck however, didn’t seem like something Kie could come back from.

Andy longed for a decent relationship with her parental figures, but unfortunately for her, every single parent she’d ever had, ended up leaving her. Or just not caring.

Kie was lucky. She could come back from her stint as an orphan.

And Andy was done being selfish. She’d done enough self-reflecting and alone time in the past few weeks, to know that her friends were the only ones that were there for her. No matter what, they were always there, even if they had some rocky moments.

She would take the fall for Kie.

Andy’s head whipped around. “No, Kie.” She shook her head. “I’ll do it. I’ll take your dad’s truck.”

“Um, what?” Kie scoffed. “You wanna steal my dad’s truck.”

“Shit might be rocky with your parents right now but your relationship with them is still repairable. If you steal the truck, it’s endgame for you.

Me on the other hand, I got nothing to lose. No relationship with your parents, no fear of authority.

I already have a criminal record, so if I were to be caught, it wouldn’t be any worse than anything that’s already happened to me. Just let me do it.”

Kie didn’t say anything for a moment. “Shockingly, you have a point.” She sighed. “It’s a suicide mission, but-“

“Don’t try and talk me out of it.” Andy waved her off. “You’ve still got a future. Don’t worry about me.”

“I’m coming with you.” JJ said, stepping forward. “Well need something to pull her out with and I know there’s a winch at the Chateau. That’s like two miles.”

“Okay, if you’re gonna do it, let’s go?” John B shrugged. “Tide’s coming in, and Twinkie’s going for a swim.”

“Right.” Andy nodded.

“Okay, D, the keys should be right inside the foyer. On the table by the steps. Get in, get out, make sure nobody knows you were there, understood?” Kie explained.

Andy nodded, absorbing all the information. “Just be careful, alright?”

Andy nodded, turning to follow JJ through the water. They trudged through the muck, making it to land.

“How long do you think you can run for?” JJ asked.

Andy shrugged. “Well I’m not drunk, and I did track in middle school, so probably most of the way?”

JJ nodded. “Right, then let’s go.”

The pair ran as much as they could, knowing time was important.

By the time they reached Kie’s house, their clothes had dried, although there was mud and grass caked on the bottom of her boots, which she managed to stomp off on the sidewalk outside.

She could tell JJ was nervous. “You sure you wanna do this? Grand theft auto’s a hell of a charge.”

Andy shook her head. “Possession is worse. Go wait by the truck. I’ll only be a minute.”

She opened the latch on the gate, crouching beside the house and quietly heading to the front door. She inhaled nervously, turning the handle on the door and going inside, tip-toeing into the foyer.

She could hear Kie’s parents in the kitchen, laughing about something.

Andy sighed, searching for the keys. She hoped that Kie could repair her relationship with her parents. Something that Andy could never do herself.

Andy finally saw the keys, in a basket. She grabbed them, turning on her heel and quietly leaving the house.

She sprinted back outside, out the gate and to the truck, where JJ was waiting. In a sickening way, JJ had a smile on his face, proud of what they were about to accomplish.

Although, Andy felt tremendous guilt, for continually screwing over the Carerras, she was glad she volunteered to do it instead of Kie.

She jumped in the driver’s seat, JJ beside her. “You sure you can handle this thing?” He asked.

Andy scoffed, starting the truck. “I was born for the big rigs baby.”

She floored it, getting away from the house as fast as she could, and out of Figure 8, and heading towards the Chateau.

“This’ll only take a sec. I think it’s in the bungalow. I’ll be right back.”

No sooner did Andy put the truck in park, than did JJ jump out, running towards the bungalow.

He took a few steps, then attempted to jump over a pile of brush from the fire the night before, but fell flat on his face.

Andy couldn’t help but laugh, covering her hand with her mouth as JJ stood back up and continued to the bungalow, as if nothing had happened.

She waited, patiently. But it seemed to take longer than he said. He just had to grab the winch and come back, it wasn’t a five-minute operation, so what was taking so long?

She honked the horn. “JJ?”

“One sec babe!” JJ replied, not in sight. “Still looking for it!”

Andy sighed, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. If she got out, she could find the winch in like five seconds- No shit.

Her eyes widened, when out from behind a wall in the bungalow stepped Luke Maybank, followed closely by JJ.

“Oh hell no. Immediately no.” She scoffed, opening the door and getting out of the truck.

JJ had his arms full of the winch as he rushed towards the truck. “Ah, just get in the truck.”

“Excuse me?” Andy shook her head as JJ passed her, tossing the winch into the bed of the truck.

“Not talking to you!” JJ snapped as he watched his dad climb into the back seat.

“The Twinkie’s drowning right now. Our friends are stuck in high-tide on Goat Island and your dad’s here? I thought he was in prison? What happened, what’s going on-“

JJ clenched his jaw, grabbing her shoulders and pushing her into the truck. “Just listen to me! Shut your damn mouth and listen to me, one time!”

Andy’s initial reaction to the physical contact was to shove him off, punch him in the face, and tell him and his dirtbag dad to have a nice life; but her secondary reaction was the opposite.

Stand still, don’t speak, let him explain.

JJ was sensitive when it came to his father.

“Do you think your dad would help get my dad out of the country?”

Andy shook her head. “Boat’s out of commission, remember? He’s land-bound for the foreseeable future.”

JJ groaned. “Then I need to get into the marina at the Island Club. There’s a boat he can take. The sticker’s on the truck, we just need like twenty extra minutes.”

He released her arms, walking back around to the passenger side of the truck. “The Twinkie will be a submarine in twenty minutes, JJ.”

“I know D.” JJ sighed.

“Leave his ass!” She snapped back. “We can come back later?”

“The cops are after him!” JJ shouted, smacking the hood of the truck. “If I do this now, maybe I’ll never have to do it again.”

“You don’t have to keep doing this JJ.” She sighed, staring at him. “You can’t keep helping him.”

“I don’t really have a choice, do I?” JJ replied, refusing to look at her. “Just get in the truck.”

Without another word, he got back into the truck.

Taking another moment to think it through, Andy got in too.

JJ would risk everything for his dad, clearly. And she knew he would risk everything for her too. So the least she could do was help him, help his shitty dad, hopefully one last time.

Then it was back to the others.

Andy reversed out of the yard and floored it down the driveway, nobody speaking the entire time.

A few minutes into the drive, Father-of-the-Century finally spoke. “Pull up to Home Foods here, I’m gonna need some provisions.”

“What does this look like, an Uber? I don’t take directions from you-“

“Just do it.” JJ shook his head. “Please.”

Andy internally screamed, begrudgingly pulling into the dirt parking lot of the grocery stand.

“Crackers and baked beans, and tuna, alright? And some salt and pepper. Five days worth.” Luke nodded at JJ as he climbed out of the truck and headed inside.

A few moments of silence passed. Then Luke began drumming on the back of Andy’s seat.

She clenched her jaw, holding it in for as long as possible, until she couldn’t anymore.

“Do you mind!” She snapped, whipping her head around to look at him.

Luke looked pleased with his agitating her, but stopped. “You’re a terrible father, do you know that?”

Luke laughed, nodding. “Preach it to me. Set me straight.”

Andy turned back around, and fought every urge to physically lash out at him, and instead opted for the mental game.

“Do you have any idea who your son is? How special he is? How bright and loving and selfless he is? He would do anything for his friends, for the people he loves. He would lay his life down for me in a heartbeat. Do you see what he’s doing for you right now?”

“He’s a thief, is what he is.” Luke replied.

“I’m a thief!” Andy snapped. “You think this is my truck? You know where I come from, this doesn’t belong to me!

And you’re no better. You’re just a wasted local salt, who never amounted to shit. In and out of jail, shitty father, can’t keep a job. Nothing to gloat about.”

Luke laughed at Andy’s insults. “You sound just like your mama.”

She whipped back around to him. “I don’t know who my mom even is.” She snapped.

Luke raised his eyebrows at him. “She sounded just like you. Always thought she was better than everyone else. Kook princess… Then again, them Camerons always did.”

Andy clenched her jaw, not understanding what he was saying.

“I see you’re actually a lot like your mama.” Luke leaned towards her. “Slumming with the bad boys, hanging around on the Cut.”

“I don’t know who you think I am, but I am not a Cameron. I’m a Kane. Born and raised to live and die on the Cut. I’m not a Kook, and I never will be.”

“You’re telling me, your daddy never told you about your mama? The real story?”

Andy narrowed her eyes at Luke. “He told me my mom was a Kook, and couldn’t hack it on the Cut, so she abandoned me. Simple as that.”

“Ain’t nothing simple about it.” Luke shook his head. “Your mom was an ungrateful shit, and you seem to be just like her-“

Andy didn’t let Luke say another word, as she clocked him right in the face with her fist.

“Shut the fuck up.” She snapped, turning back to the front, where JJ was walking towards them, his arms full of grocery bags.

Andy didn’t hit Luke hard enough to draw blood, just enough to scare him into finally being quiet.

JJ hopped back in the truck, looking at both of them, confused. “Everything alright?”

Andy clutched the steering wheel, her busted knuckles almost white. “Peachy. Let’s get going.” She put the truck into drive, and they were on their way.

They made it through the club gates without issue, due to the membership sticker on Mr. Carrera’s windshield.

Andy parked, sitting silently as JJ got out, rounding the back of the truck to grab his dad’s supplies.

“Think. About what I said.” Luke said. “Maybe go ask your papa a few questions… and tell him I said I’ll see him down below.”

Andy turned back to him, her jaw clenched. “Shut up!” JJ snapped, before she could retaliate, grabbing him by his shoulder.

Andy grabbed the steering wheel again, to keep her hands from shaking. Out of anger? Maybe fear?

"Make it quick.” She snapped.

JJ nodded, pulling his dad behind him, and out of sight.

Andy’s head was reeling. Her face was fuzzy and she was dying hot, even though she was only in a tank top and jeans.

She blinked a few times, trying to calm herself down.

What did Luke mean, her mother was a Cameron?

It was Luke Maybank for fucks sake, he lied like it was his full-time job. There was no way her mom was a Cameron.

Yes, her dad did tell her she was a Kook. But a Cameron?

He must’ve had her mistaken with Sarah.

And what did he mean, he’d see her dad "down below?"

Hopefully he meant in hell, which was for-sure where they were both ending up. But Andy had a sick feeling he meant somewhere in this world.

The walls of the truck felt like they were closing in. The air was growing blistering, and Andy swore she could feel her heart start to beat out of her chest.

She needed to get out.

She jumped out of the truck, following in the direction that JJ had went minutes before.

As she rounded the corner, she could see the boat at the end of the dock. And as she got closer, she could see JJ and his dad, engaging in a seemingly heart-felt conversation.

When she reached the end of the dock, JJ was hugging his dad. And her heart dropped.

She knew it was goodbye.

But as soon as JJ saw her, he released his dad, stepping back and out of the boat. “Hey, you good?” He asked, concerned.

Andy swallowed her tears, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. Just came to check on you.”

JJ nodded too. “Help me let him loose?”

Andy nodded again, grabbing the rope to the front of the boat and untying it from the dock.

She waited for JJ, watching him intently as he held the rope in his hand, taking a moment to think about everything. And when he tossed the rope into the boat, so did she.

They watched his father float away.

She walked up behind him, wrapping her arms around his middle. JJ stood, watching as his dad faded further and further into the ocean.

He sniffled, holding back big tears as he shrugged Andy off, taking two pill bottles in his hand and emptying them into the ocean, leaving the empty bottles on the dock.

Andy bit her lip, giving him his moment. And when he was finished, he stopped, staring at her with teary eyes. “I’m sorry.” She whispered as he grabbed her, pulling her into him.

JJ shook his head, not saying anything for a moment. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah. You can drive though.” She nodded as he let go of her, opting to hold her hand instead, as they walked back to the truck.

“You sure you’re okay? He didn’t get into your head or anything, did he?” JJ asked as they exited the country club.

Andy nodded, lying, once again. “It’s all good. It just pisses me off, that you have to keep going through that.”

JJ shook his head. “Don’t worry about me. It’s better that he’s gone.”

Andy nodded. That was a courageous, and very non-JJ thing to say. But it was the truth.

JJ Maybank was better off without his dad.

When they got back to Goat Island, the other four were on top of the van.

“Where the hell have you been?” Pope shouted, clearly frustrated.

Andy sighed, getting out of the truck. “Paternal complications…. His, not mine.”

JJ also got out, digging through the truck bed for the winch. “Luke was at the Chateau.”

“Great!” Pope scoffed. “While you were having family time, John B got bit by a gator!”

“Like for real?” JJ asked.

Andy squinted, trying to see them clearly.

“Does it look like we’re joking?” Kie asked, motioning to the blood smeared on the roof.

“Well what the hell happened?” Andy asked.

“What happened?” John B repeated. “I got bit by a gator!”

“He got bit by a gator!” Pope yelled at the same time.

Andy’s mouth opened in shock. “I dunno why I’m being yelled at? I put my ass on the line for all of you!”

“You volunteered to steal the truck!” Kie yelled back.

“You’re being yelled at because it was a twenty-minute operation that took two hours!” Pope yelled too.

“We got here as fast as we could-“ Andy defended herself.

“Shut up!” JJ screamed, making everyone finally stop yelling. “Seriously, I can’t take it anymore! All we ever do is argue!” He sighed, leaning his back against a tree near him.

“Look, I just helped my dad leave the island for good. Like he’s not ever coming back. He’s straight-up, like the Spanish, “bon-voyage”.”

Despite the severity of the situation, Andy couldn’t help but crack a smile.

“That’s not the right language…” She heard Sarah whisper.

“All we got, is each other.” JJ said. “I know for a fact, you guys are all I got. Okay? You’re it.” He paused, looking over at Andy, who nodded at him.

“And I’ve come too close to losing all of you! I mean, shit you and Kie almost drowned.” He pointed at Andy.

“Pope, you were kidnapped. Sarah, you were shot. John B, you were almost dinner for an alligator. So this blaming each other, is some Kook-ass bullshit. It needs to stop. We don’t do that, we’re Pogues.” JJ took another moment.

“Sorry, that was a lot right now.”

Nobody said anything for a moment, until John B and Pope began clapping. Kie, Sarah, and Andy followed their lead, giving a round of applause for JJ’s speech.

Andy shook her head. “No need to apologize for speaking your truth.”

“I gotta be honest, that was the best freaking speech you’ve ever given.” John B smiled at him. “But also, you should think about Rosetta Stone, because your Spanish and French are flip-flopped.”

JJ shook his head, flipping them all off with both of his hands.

“How about we bon-voyage outta here?” Sarah suggested, considering they were still stuck in the rising tide.

“Right!” JJ clapped his hands together, jumping back into action. “Let’s get this damn Twinkie outta here.”

JJ and Pope attached the winch and cable from the truck to the van, Kie got behind the Twinkie’s wheel and Andy behind the truck, and shockingly, as a group, they managed to free the Twinkie from the marsh.

After a few minutes of celebration, they were off to their next location: Freedman’s church.

The church was creepy. It was old, dirty, and seemed to be not structurally-sound. Vines grew up the walls, cracks ran across the ceiling, and there were holes all over the floor.

“So you’re telling me Denmark Tanny decided to hide the cross here?” JJ asked, looking around.

Pope ignored him. “Everybody just spread out.” Kie said.

“Well if I was a cross and wanted to be hidden in an old church, where would I be…” John B thought out-loud.

Nobody really did any progressive looking, save for Pope. He was on his hands and knees, searching the floors and under the pews.

“Are you sure he really hid the cross here, Pope?” JJ asked. “Like, are we at the right church?”

“It’s gotta be here somewhere guys.” Pope shrugged, standing up.

“The spyglass said Freedman’s church.” Andy shook her head, looking up at the walls.

“What if we have to push a secret button, or like play a certain chord?” JJ wondered aloud, walking over to the old piano. “And all of the sudden, the ground beneath us reveals the catacombs or something.”

“How about we try to find the obvious clues?” John B suggested. “Where would you hide a seven-foot tall cross, made of gold?”

Andy searched the ceiling, looking for any sign of a secret hiding spot. Different-colored paint, or a loose board- Her eyes stopped on the support beams.

They were assembled in the shape of crosses. Three of them.

“Pope?” Andy said, startling them all from their search.

“What?” He asked, walking over to her. She said nothing, but simply pointed at the ceiling. “You don’t think-“

She looked at him, nodding. “Going up?”

“You’re coming with.” He replied.

The pair, went over to the wall, examining it. There seemed to be enough gaps and holes in the concrete to provide foot-holds for them to scale it.

Pope went first.

“Hey, yo, what are you doing?” JJ asked, watching Pope begin to climb.

“What, are you Spiderman suddenly? What are ya’ll doing?” Kie also asked.

They both ignored them, as Andy followed Pope carefully up to the top of the wall.

“This church is old, you really shouldn’t be doing that-“ John B said, peering up at them.

Pope reached the end of the beam, rushing to sit himself on top of it so that Andy could get up there too.

“Let me just be real, neither of ya’ll are the most coordinated people on the planet. Do you hear me?” JJ scolded them.

Pope ignored them, as Andy maneuvered herself to the other side of the first cross.

He pounded the side of his fist on the wood. “This one’s solid wood.”

Andy nodded, turning carefully and crawling to the middle cross. She sat down, leaning her back against the wood behind her and kicking at it with her boot. “Solid too.” She shook her head.

Pope crawled to meet her. “Go to the next one.”

She nodded, carefully standing up and walking to the edge of the beam. “Yo, watch out for that wasp’s next right above you!” JJ said from below them.

Andy looked up, and sure enough, there was a monster nest just above the cross. She could hear the bees buzzing, and a few of them were flying around. Fuck.

Pope slowly met up with her, holding onto the last cross for support. “This one’s all you.” She shook her head, squatting down beside the cross.

Pope tapped it with his foot, a knocking sound emitting from the wood. “It’s hollow.” He whispered. “Go get me a crowbar!” He commanded.

Sarah shook her head, turning and running out of the church, only to return, with a crowbar.

“Here Pope!” She tossed it into the air, and to everyone’s surprise, Pope caught it.

“Pope, forget ye not about the bees? ‘Kay?” Andy raised her eyebrows. “Just don’t get us killed.”

Pope nodded, taking his first hit to the wood. Then another, and another, until he smashed a hole into it.

He used the curved end of the crowbar to pull a chunk out of the wood, and in the sunlight Andy could see a small glimpse of gold.

Pope set the crowbar down, and he and Andy used their hands to rip the rest of the wood off of the beam. Andy couldn’t help but smile, her face emitting the cheesiest grin she could, as they revealed a giant gold cross.

Across from her Pope was silent, his eyes wide in shock. He did it.

Below them, their friends cheered, laughing and hugging each other in celebration. Another mystery solved, another treasure found.

“We did it.” Pope laughed, in disbelief. “We did it!”

Andy nodded, feeling a prick on her neck. “Ouch, damnit.” She winced, smacking her neck. The body of a dead wasp was on her hand, when she pulled it back.

Shit.

Another one, on the top of her hand, and then another on her neck.

Across from her, the wasps were swarming Pope, he swatted and swung the crowbar in an attempt to stop the attack, but it was no use.

“Guys, they’re stinging now!” He shouted, alerting their friends. “D, you gotta get down!”

“Pope?” Andy scoffed, swatting another wasp away from her. “What about you?”

“You go first! If we jump at the same time, the cross might come down with us, and then the whole church. Just go!”

Andy shook her head, smacking another wasp off of her arm. “JJ?” She yelled, looking down at them.

“I got you!” He nodded, holding his arms up.

Andy didn’t wait for a countdown, she simply jumped, pushing her fear to the back burner and hoping that JJ would catch her.

Which he did.

The force of her jumping from so high up, sent the both of them on their asses, but it was better than the entire church collapsing on them. “You okay?” JJ asked, out of breath.

“I’ll be fine.” Andy shook her head, standing back up.

Above them, Pope had stood up, but the wood was now weak, and he slipped, hanging from the edge of the beam. “We gotta get cushions. Pope’s gonna fall!”

Everyone sprung into action, Kie and Sarah pushing pews out of the way, and Andy, JJ and John B grabbing cushions from the benches and piling them beneath Pope.

No sooner did they set the cushions in a pile, than did Pope lose his grip, falling to the ground. Everyone collectively let out a sigh of relief as he hit the ground, and Kie and Sarah helped him sit up.

Everyone was asking him questions; if he was okay, hurt, anything broken, feeling alright, etc. But Pope didn’t answer. He just stared up at the ceiling, looking at the cross.

Suddenly his eyes grew wide, and he rolled to the side, taking Andy with him. Everyone else took that as a sign, and dove out of the way, in just enough time for the cross to come flying out of it’s place, and onto the cushions below.

Andy sat back up, Pope still laying down beside her. “Pope… are you okay?” She asked, slightly out of breath.

Pope nodded softly. “I’m good. I’m alive. Just give me like one second to catch my breath?”

Andy let out another sigh of relief, trying to regulate her breathing as she stared at the giant golden cross. Pope did it.

Everyone else stood back up, checking themselves for injuries.

JJ and John B examined the cross, smiles on their faces. Sarah watched in awe, and Kie did too.

“Pope, she’s beautiful.” JJ nodded.

“I’ve never seen anything like it. The detail’s insane.” Sarah agreed.

“If we melted her old bones down, how much you think it’s worth? Like high billions, is what I’m thinking.”

“No, JJ. No. It belongs in a museum.” John B shook his head.

“A museum? Where nobody can see her?”

“In a museum where everyone can see her!” John B replied.

Pope finally sat up, breathing heavily still. “Hey! It’s my ancestor’s cross. This is bigger than money. And the world’s gotta know the truth.”

“Yes, and if we don’t get this shit outta here before Limbrey finds it, nobody’s gonna know. So saddle up-“ John B said.

Andy shook her head, as all six of them gathered around the cross, beginning to lift it. It was heavy as shit, and compared to the cross, they were simply too weak. Just six scrawny children.

They managed to get it off the ground, before Pope groaned. “Okay guys. I can’t- I can’t!” He dropped his part, almost taking Andy out with it, as the weight dropped to the floor.

When she collapsed, so did everyone else, dropping their portion of the cross onto the floor.

Pope laid himself out on the nearest pew, still breathing heavily. Andy frowned, noticing Pope’s deteriorating condition. “Pope…” She walked over to him, grabbing his hand.

“I’m not okay.” He gasped between breaths. “I’m. Not. Okay.”

Andy’s eyes widened, watching as Pope gasped for breath. His face was swollen, as was his hand. He was struggling to breath, and his skin was blazing to touch.

“He’s having an allergic reaction.” Andy said, but everyone else was still arguing, so nobody heard her.

“Hey!” She shouted, grabbing their attention. “Pope’s allergic to bees!”

On the bench, Pope was wheezing, his breaths becoming shorter. “I can’t breathe!” He cried out, clutching Andy’s hand.

The others gathered around them. “We have to go!” Andy yelled, pulling Pope upright.

“Right!” John B nodded. “JJ, Sarah, hide the cross. D, come on, we gotta come back later!”

She held Pope’s one arm, and John B held the other. Kie walked ahead of them to open the doors, as Sarah and JJ haphazardly covered the cross with the cushions from the church pews.

They dragged Pope to the truck, John B trying his best to settle Pope on the back seats comfortably.

“He needs adrenaline!” Andy frowned, watching as Pope fought to breathe. “An EpiPen. Do you not have one with you?”

Pope lazily shook his head no.

She whipped her head around to look at the other. “What are we supposed to do?!”

“I know where to go!” JJ announced. “Give me the keys.” Andy placed them in his palm as JJ jumped into the driver’s seat.

Andy climbed into the truck beside Pope, who was now sat up, his head out the window. “Is it better for you to breathe this way? Sitting up? Pope-“

Pope didn’t answer, but simply reached out, grabbing tightly at Andy’s sleeve. She stared intently at him, trying to hope for the best.

“What’s going on, it’s real quiet back there!” JJ shouted as he sped through the woods.

Andy’s breath hitched in her throat, trying to play it cool. “Thinking it’s better to be as calm as possible for Pope.” She replied softly. “But he’s still kicking.”

Her eye’s didn’t leave Pope’s, not until JJ haphazardly pulled up outside of his cousin Ricky’s, honking the horn to alert his of their arrival.

JJ jumped out of the truck, running up to the front door. “Ricky! Bro, hey! Ricky!” He pounded his fist on the door.

“Just stay here. I’ll be right back.” Andy said to Pope, and quickly followed JJ.

John B and Kie helped Pope out of the truck.

“Hey! I got a problem bro!” JJ rattled the door handle, trying to yank it open. “I know you’re mad at me-“

“Remember that time you stole my ambulance?” Ricky glared at JJ from behind the glass.

Andy bounded up the sidewalk, rushing beside JJ as Ricky slammed the door. Furious, she pushed JJ aside, banging her fists on the glass.

"Ricky! Ricky, come on!” She pounded on the door. “Pope is allergic to bees, and if we don’t get your help, he’s going to die!”

JJ left the doorstep, going to the window that looked into the livingroom. “He can’t breathe Ricky, please!”

Suddenly, beneath her fists, the door opened, Ricky standing before her. “Who can’t breathe?”

Andy, chest heaving from anger, turned around, pointing to Pope, who was being dragged towards the house.

She looked back at Ricky, who solemnly nodded, opening the door wider, for the six kids to enter through.

Andy pushed past him, Sarah close behind, and they cleared off the dining room table to lay Pope on.

“What’s wrong with him?” Ricky asked, feeling for Pope’s pulse as he laid down on the table.

“Wasps.” Sarah gasped.

“Wasps?” Ricky asked.

“He’s allergic!”

“Shit.” Ricky shook his head. At the end of the table, John B and JJ raised Pope’s legs up, while Kie and Sarah stood by, watching. “Hang tight, I gotta get my kit.” Ricky headed towards the garage.

“JJ go help him!” John B commanded.

Sarah took JJ’s place, holding up Pope’s leg, Andy stood by his head, watching as Pope wheezed below her.

“Pope, just keep breathing. I know it’s hard, but keep it up-“ Kie stepped beside her, holding Pope’s face.

After some shouting from JJ and Ricky, they returned, kit in-hand. “So what do we do now?” JJ asked.

Ricky laid his kit out on the table, rooting through it to look for the epinephrine. “You don’t do anything, cause you’re not a paramedic.”

Ricky began to situate the proper dosage of medicine to administer to Pope, pulling a needle, syringe, and vial of liquid out of the kit.

“Hey Pope, how you doing?” Ricky uncapped the syringe.

“You look like shit.” Ricky filled the syringe with the meds. “This is a pediatric dose of epinephrine.”

“And?” Andy snapped, clenching her jaw. She couldn’t understand the lack of urgency.

“It’s ten times the normal dose of epinephrine!” Ricky snapped back. “So if it doesn’t stop his heart, it’ll help him… But I have to use the whole thing or it won’t work. And I’m not going down if he dies.”

“What-“ Kie asked, shocked and disgusted, that Pope could potentially be dead within a matter of minutes.

“Whatever!” Andy cut her off. “Just do it!”

The room grew eerily silent as Ricky injected Pope’s arm with the adrenaline.

His breathing slowed, from erratic gasps, to almost silent. And Pope still didn’t move.

“You killed him.” Kie said quietly. “What did you do to him?” She looked up at Ricky, tears pooling in her eyes.

“I didn’t do shit.” Ricky shook his head. “I did exactly what you asked me to do.”

Andy’s eyes widened, the sick feeling sinking in.

Pope was dead.

TAGLIST

@chaoticavery @secretwilliams @writingjjfics @sunsumonner

[shammah8]

RHAPSODY OF REALITIES

Sunday 11 June 2023

CUSTODIANS OF TRUTH

Open ye the gates, that the righteous nation which keepeth the truth may enter in (Isaiah 26:2).

I’ll like you to observe two things that qualify a nation to come into the gates of God. The first is righteousness. The second is that the nation must have and walk in the truth. What nation is this custodian and observer of the truth?

God’s Word is Truth, and His truth was given to us in Christ Jesus. Thus, the Church of Christ is this nation that keeps the truth. Paul, writing to Timothy in 1 Timothy 3:15 called the house of God, which is the Church of the living God, the pillar and ground of the truth. We belong in the Church which is the custodian of the truth. The Church is a righteous nation. We’re God-like in true righteousness and holiness (Ephesians 4:24).

The Bible says, “For he hath made him to be sin for us, who knew no sin; that we might be made the righteousness of God in him” (2 Corinthians 5:21). Everyone who has accepted Jesus as Lord and Saviour has been made righteous!

In Ephesians 4:24 (AMPC), Paul highlights that we were created in true righteousness and holiness: “And put on the new nature (the regenerate self) created in God's image, [Godlike] in true righteousness and holiness.” If you walk with sin consciousness, you wouldn’t know that you’re righteous. But His gate is opened to the righteous ones—the Church! What a blessing!

Peter corroborates this in his first epistle when he called us a holy nation: “But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a dedicated nation, [God's] own purchased, special people, that you may set forth the wonderful deeds and display the virtues and perfections of Him Who called you out of darkness into His marvelous light” (1 Peter 2:9 AMPC).

We’re a peculiar nation, born in righteousness, producing fruits of righteousness, and proclaiming His truth in righteousness.

              PRAYER

Righteous Father, your peace and prosperity reign in the nations of the world, as we, your Church, proclaim your truth and righteousness around the world. We overturn the structures, systems and schemes of satanic propagation of deception and fear across the nations, and we declare that your will be done in all the earth, as it is in heaven, in Jesus’ Name. Amen.

FURTHER STUDY:

3 John 1:3-4;

1 Timothy 3:15

[biblethumpersims]

“Dad?”

“Yes, Mercy?”

“Can we get a house with a basement?”

“Why would you want a basement?” Samuel pauses his work to look at Mercy.

“In case a tornado hits our penthouse, or a nuclear war happens, or if Jesus comes back but we weren’t good enough to die so He leaves us to the mercy of Satanic atheists so we have to go into hiding underground.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. We’re good enough to die when Jesus returns.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Is that sin?”

“Is what a sin?”

“I don’t know. Thinking we’re good enough for Heaven. I thought Jesus died because we’re all bad people that will never be good enough.”

“Yes, but then Jesus died. We believe in Him, and through Him we’ll be saved when He returns. Don’t they teach you that at Sunday school? Or homeschool?”

Mercy shrugs.

Samuel sighs. “Go get your mother.”

“But can we have a basement?”

“No. Go get your mother.”

[ask-ikevamp-faust]

Oh, a one time exception just for me? You flatter me, my soul. I’ll be sure to make the most out of this tantalizing opportunity. In fact, I think I’ll combine the idea behind Sinful Sunday with my latest response since you claim to enjoy my teasing.

In our last conversation, before I was ill, you mentioned that you hate the idea of another man fantasizing about me. However, I say let them have all the wicked fantasies they'd like because they're nothing more than delusions. After all, those men will never experience what you have full access to. They'll never feel me warming their bed at night or taste the sweetness of my lips. They’ll certainly never see me kneel before them with lust-hazed eyes or hear the sound of me crying out their name in sinful, pain-tinged ecstasy.

You compare me to a lavish gift, all yours to unwrap and savor, but I wonder…. Can I ever make you lose your composure? On a similar note, if you use the remote controlled vibrator on me, will you be able to break mine? It seems like we’ll have another delicious experiment to try out if you want to make me beg for you, my darling.

Your preference for rose gold is perfect, and it would look striking when combined with the black and deep blue of your color scheme. Diamonds are always fine with me for any stone choice, especially for an everyday necklace, but I’d also never turn down any stone that matches your beautiful eyes.

Interestingly enough, a few days ago, I came across a website called Play in Velvet with a perfect black, navy, and rose gold collection. If you find yourself on that website, you'll have to let me know what you think. I’m also interested in your preference for pet play collars. Which parts of pet play do you enjoy? You noticed my own preference for martingale collars, and I must admit that I enjoy the way they can be pulled on and tightened around the neck.

As for your honorific, what about “master” or “sir”? Both are classic options that fit you well and would look elegant when embroidered on the collar. I could even do the embroidery myself if you'd like.

My final question shall be the big one I’d been saving for Sinful Sunday: in your fantasies, what is it like when you sink your fangs into my neck for the first time? Am I sleeping peacefully, simply going about a normal day, or will you have me already waiting and wanting you?

I can already feel the way your eyes narrowed and your lips set into a wry smile as you read that last sentence. Do your fangs ache for me? Do you ache for me, my darling? At the very least, I'm sure you regret telling me you enjoy my teasing.

-L

(Thank you so much for the well wishes when I was feeling poorly, 🌙admin. With any of my responses, please feel free to respond however you feel the most comfortable with, as I’ve done a lot of rp and I’m also very comfortable with NSFW/kink topics! 💜)

(I will label things as "mature" and collapse my responses that contain NSFW content that begins to/will go further than suggestive/flirty. This falls under pre-discussed role play, both parties have consented.)

Perfect, I always look forward to your response. Yes… I suppose you’re right about that, I’m the one that gets to experience those things. The warmth radiating from your soft skin is always inviting, paired with the way your voice sings for me; I’m a very lucky man. If you’re that curious, you should try to make me lose my composure. I’m certain you can do it so I look forward to experiencing your methods. I’m not sure whether it’ll break you, but as long as you enjoy the experience that’s the important part. There will always be more opportunities to experiment.

Since I’d like for it to be for everyday wear, diamonds are okay. I’ll make the arrangements. 

I looked around the site, and they have stunning sets. What’s the name of the collection set you were looking at? I’d like to make sure we’re looking at the same thing. Personally, I’m not sure I could pick only one, several of them are appealing. They offer quite a variety of accessories, belts, harnesses, leashes, cuffs… if you don’t mind, I’d like to add all those to our inventory. I realize I said I wanted the accessories in my color palette but after exploring the site, I believe a variety in color would be nice as well.

Pet play has always intrigued me, both its sexual and non-sexual sides. I find it interesting that when the submissive goes into their “pet space”, it’s like a relief for them, a place they can let go of control and responsibilities. What intrigues me the most is that they find this relief through playing the role of an animal. The way they aim to please, crave praise and attention, treats, training, playtime, using non-verbal/animal communication, these non-sexual things; they truly enjoy being in the position of a pet. Some even like to have a cage and bowl, that’s a bit much for me but it’s interesting. The way you approach the roleplay is different depending on the animal chosen; I have a fondness for kitten and bunny play. I enjoy being the owner, taking full responsibility for the submissive and providing a space for them to indulge. As for the sexual parts, I mainly just enjoy the accessories; the ears, tail, collar, and leash. I met a few individuals who mixed their pet play with a breeding kink; I suppose they enjoyed engaging in animal mating habits. The entire branch is interesting but it’s not for everyone; many find it to be odd actually. If it doesn’t appeal to you that’s okay, there are plenty of other kinky things to try.

Those are good choices, I’m rather fond of “master” so let’s go with that. You are skilled with embroidery as well I see, that’s lovely. If you’d really like to do that I don’t mind, I’ll supply whatever you need.

Ahhh… First bite fantasies hmm… I don’t mind sharing. I apologize if it is not an accurate representation of you. I suppose you’ll have to show me the reality, I know it’ll exceed any fantasy my mind can conjure up. Let’s see, in my fantasies, your desire for me is making you a bit impatient because I’m making you wait. However, you don’t want to be too quick to beg, so you play it off and go about your day. I spend the day teasing you, stealing kisses, placing my fangs anywhere I can on you throughout the day, but never puncturing your skin. At some point before the day is over, I ask you to wait for me in my room. I find you lying on my bed hugging a pillow when I arrive. You claim to be tired when I attempt to question you. Since I don’t believe you, I trap you on the bed as you try to get up. Looming over you as you sit at the edge of the bed, I remind you that I don’t appreciate deception, I wait for your response as I run my hand from the top of your head to the base of your neck. Since the beginning of the sentence sounds like denial again, I hold your chin to steal a kiss. I continue to shower you with kisses, from your nose, forehead, cheeks, corners of the mouth, jawline, then back to your soft lips. As I deepen the kiss, you begin to take my coat off and pull me onto the bed. When I pull away and look down at you, I notice you’re a bit flushed, it’s cute; I unbutton my shirt before fully climbing onto the bed above you. Taking the opportunity, you run your hands on my chest and abdomen, your touch makes my body burn more. Burying my face in your neck I groan as you continue to run your hands on my body, it doesn’t escape me that you are telling me to bite you. As if to urge me, you begin to undo your blouse and leave yourself completely open. I can’t wait anymore so finally, I lightly sink my fangs at the base of your neck towards the back on the right side, and you moan in delight, a shiver runs through your body. Before I can pull my fangs out, you tighten your grip on my back and ask me to make the bite deeper. As I do, I can feel your nails dig deeper into my back. I make sure to lick any trickling blood, and well… the rest is up to imagination I suppose, but that's how it happens in my fantasy. I don’t believe anyone has asked me to describe a fantasy before; it seems rather long and somewhat silly now that I look back at it. Well, now I’m a bit curious, have you created a fantasy about how I bite you for the first time?

I’m not sure how to feel about you guessing my exact reaction, it’s impressive. It’s clear you’re having fun trying to get a rise out of me with all your teasing. Since I rather enjoy your game, I highly doubt I’ll regret anything. Make me ache for you more than I already do, I want every fiber of my being to burn with desire for you. The more I love you the sweeter you’ll taste, and I assume as your love for me grows, the pleasure from my bites will increase. So go ahead, keep probing, let me see what you can do.

(Thank you for letting me know!! I’ll do my best to deliver good quality 😊 You’re the first person to tell me you’re comfortable with role playing this topic, so I’m sorry if I’m sort of testing waters here. Since I’d like to do my best in fulfilling your request, I would like to know what are some things you’d like to include in the role play with this character. It helps me prepare my writing and if anything pushes past my comfort zone, I can let you know in advance.)

[buggie-hagen]

Sermon for Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost (9/10/23)

Primary Text | Matthew 18:15-20

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Dear People of God,

          I don’t think we realize how radical it is when Jesus says something like, “Where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them” (Matt. 18:20). You’ve heard it said, “We were packed like sardines.” That obviously comes from when they cram the salty little fishes into a tin can. There’s no space to move around in there! Think of a time when you were packed like sardines. Maybe at an Adele concert. Or on the bus. Or on a plane. Especially on a plane, you can be stuck in one position for hours with the person next to you right up against you. Maybe the person on the flight next to you has a strange accent. Or is carrying a crying baby. Or is talkative when you’re trying to get some sleep. Either way, you’re in this together until the flight lands. Whatever personal space you normally have, whatever boundaries you would set up between yourself and a stranger don’t matter when you’re on a flight. There’s no space to yourself! This is the image I want in your mind when Jesus says Where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them. The God we know in Jesus Christ does not give us space. He is packed right up there in the plane with us. His church is like a plane. We’re in this life together with one another and especially with him, our Lord who comes to us in the body of another. He refuses to let us be alone. Any space between us and our Lord is our own fiction. A spiritual reality, yes. But it is also a physical reality. For the God we know in Jesus Christ is a “down-to-earth” God. Jesus is not locked away in heaven. We can grasp him. That means that he interacts with us, gives us all his blessings, and is among us in a physical way, with his body. Without his bodily presence among us there is no blessing from God.

When we hear that God is so near to us, even in his body, the old creature within us bristles. If we are to have a God we want him far away. If we can hold God at least an arm’s length, then we think we have freedom. This comes when we define freedom as our own agency. But God is not the type of God who leaves things in our hands. Especially when it comes to matters of faith and salvation. In those matters there is no room for personal choice. In the single person of Jesus Christ there is no division between the divine, God-nature of Jesus and the bodily, human nature of Jesus. Ever since he was conceived in the womb of the Blessed Virgin Mary he has been both God and a human being all at once. The creator of the universe held in his mother’s arms. In this manner he without exception comes to us not just in a spiritual way but also in a tangible, bodily way.

This talk of Jesus’ presence in his body among us comes in the context of Jesus’ teaching on church conflict. He begins by saying, “If another member of the church sins against you, go and point out the fault when the two of you are alone. If your sibling listens to you, you have regained that one” (Matt. 18:15). There’s a few take aways here. One is, that in fact people in the church will sin. When that happens, be prepared for it. It is no surprise. Some think the church is only for perfect people. It’s not. That’s the farthest thing from the truth. The only perfect human being to ever live was the Lord Jesus Christ himself. We’re only here because we’re not perfect. We’re broken. We need someone to put us back together. From birth and until we die, we will always be saddled with our sin and in need of a Savior. So do not be surprised or dismayed when someone in the church, who claims the name of Christian, sins against you. It will happen. When it does happen the Lord has given us a procedure to deal with the sin. So if you have an issue with your Christian sibling, the first step is to go directly to them, in private, and make the fault known. We don’t go to social media and publicize it to the world. We don’t gossip behind the person’s back and rub their name in the mud. When we gossip, even if what we say is true, we are like a dog eating its own feces. Avoid it. There might be a thrill to talking behind a person’s back, but no one is improved. Again, when your sibling in Christ sins against you and it something that cannot be looked over, do not pass go, go directly to the person. And if they listen, you have regained that one.

Remember, whether we like it or not, we are on United Airlines together and we want the plane to land with all of us on it. Jesus goes on. He says, “But if you are not listened to, take one or two others along with you, so that every word may be confirmed by the evidence of two or three witnesses” (Matt. 18:16). This is good because when there is conflict in the church Jesus does not want us to sweep the matter under the rug. All too often we in the church of Christ are conflict averse. We want things to remain as they are without any shake up. But just because something seems normal doesn’t mean it is healthy. When conflict comes our first impulse should not be to air out our dirty laundry in front of others. In this second step, when we have been sinned against, we are asked to bring two or three others with us to address the issue at hand. This way there are witnesses for what is wrong. There is also added pressure for the offender to change their ways. The hope is to be reconciled. But often, spride comes before the fall. It may very well be that the person will pack up their toys and stomp away. It happens. Not everyone will be happy when they are called out. But if such a one insists on remaining in the plane with us, then it may well come time to bring the witness of the whole church to shine a light on the matter. And in this third step, if they listen to the church well and good. If they refuse to listen to the church, they have chosen to jump out of the plane in mid-air. To their own doom. This is a last resort. The goal is to maintain the relationship and restore such a one, as far as God has permitted, to the body of Christ. If possible, we want to be sardines together here.

Jesus says of all this, “Truly I tell you, whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven” (Matt. 18:18). This is what we call the office of the keys. The power to forgive sins. Jesus gives this power not just to the bishop in Rome but to all his little Christians scattered throughout the world. Which means he has entrusted the power to forgive sins to you and to me. The Apology of the Augsburg Confession says, “The power of forgiveness removes eternal death and brings eternal life” (Ap. 12:138). So there are two keys. The binding key and the loosing key. Whatever we do with these keys has eternal consequences. When we use the binding key that means the sin is not forgiven and death remains with that person. When we use the loosing key that means the sin is forgiven and life is begun anew. Whenever we use these keys we are not above and better than others. We are simply doing what Christ has commanded us to do. The ultimate goal is to come to a place of forgiveness. So let us be quick to forgive and slow to retain the sin. One esteemed theologian once said, “If you are not sure whether it’s time to use the binding key, then don’t. Wait. See.”  The Lord’s Prayer tips us off—forgive us our sins as we have been forgiven. Our own forgiveness from God comes to us by sheer grace. So we gladly forgive and do good to those who have sinned against us, dear people. A power of the Holy Spirit, in fact.

Whenever two or three are gathered in my name, Jesus says, I am there among them. You and I are gathered in his name today. He is here now. Poke yourself. Poke your neighbor if they will allow it. He is here in the flesh. He leaves you no space for yourself. Jesus is, after all, the word-made-flesh. For the God in Jesus Christ is not far off in heaven above, but in the seat right next to you on the plane. He is there in the only way we can comprehend him as he truly is—in his word-made-flesh. So, he is in your sister or brother or sibling in Christ and in the word they speak to you—so let there be no idle words in your mouth. He is there for you in his body and in his blood—which means he is there for you in a truly human way. He gathers his church from the ends of the earth around his word and his sacraments. Why? Because this is the down-to-earth God that leaves you no space for yourself—but is sardined among you. Packed tightly. In his word and in his sacraments God comes to you as a person—a flesh and blood human being. And yes we bristle at the idea that God only makes himself known in the body and blood of Christ—especially as we eat and drink him in the Lord’s Supper. Though he is present in the same earthly, fleshly way in the oral word and in baptism. We insist on this matter because if it were not so there would be no blessing for you and for me. But because God has ordained it to be this way, to make himself known in the person of Jesus Christ, and that he is also packed together like sardines with you on this blue planet, on the airplane of the church, in this very room…you have all his blessings. Eternal life, forgiveness of sins, salvation, hope, and joy. There is no other God worth our time.

[stoptellinglieslois]

Principal of pleasure part 4

The continuation of part 3 the mission completed the city’s are safe from Killer crock and Penguin. Clark and Dick go home to their lives Clark get’s a phone calls and text’s. from all sorts. 

Superman x Nightwing pairing

Clark

I knew boomed everything my mind was going full on circuit and I malfunction I haven’t worked with Dick in long while but that was excuse.

And that’s what totally derailed me at that moment I never got that way ever that was very dangerous what I did wasted everyone time and lives were at stake.

As I sat in the kitchen well after midnight on a Sunday.

 I avoided Batman not wanting to hear how bad I failed at this mission letting people suffer as I think about Dick.

My cell phone didn’t stop ringing calls from Diana Bruce kept filling up my voice mail.

When I got a strange text I looked at the caller ID it was a private number.

{Hey big blue it’s Hood lol I’am hearing some crazy shit coming from Bats that shit was funny as hell. smoke and fumes came out of the bats ear just letting you know no one suspects anything from both of you.}

Red hood

I read it I didn’t want to him answer him back I didn’t know what to do so I let him go, I had nothing to say on my behalf how could I explain myself to anyone at least it was Jason and as far as I know he won’t say anything.

As Superman I felt like I didn’t want to explain myself as Clark I can’t say anything and as Kal-el l would betray all if I opened my mouth best kept him silence.

My phone buzzed again and it was Dick this time.

I walked to the balcony closed the screen door behind me and answer him.

“Hello” I gulped a little not sure how to explain to Dick on what I just did to the mission.

“Hey Clark are you ok ?”

“Yes I’m great Dick I know what I did was not the best choice at that moment, But it was the choice I made a very poor choice but still my choice.” I said looking at the sky it was frosty and cold and dark night sky. I was the only one on the balcony out here plus I was only wearing a t-shirt everyone was recovering from the flood no one would notice me.

I hope he didn’t ask me to talk about what just happened.

“Diana knew you we’re lying her lasso wasn’t even on you and it still picked up your lie, You said you just wanted to see me be near me but not when we are occupied Clark.” Dick said I’ve all way enjoyed listening to his voice it was interesting to me a combination of man and boy all in one it was cute. 

But he wouldn’t to hear that from me right now. “I’ did lie to Diana I banded the rules to cover a sin.” I said it came out of my mouth I didn’t have time to correct but it was to late.

“Oh.”

“Yes oh Dick that’s how I felt about you all along it’s hard not telling any of this not knowing if you had anything for me. So if Diana picked up my deceiving ways on why I lied then fine no one get’s hurt as long as she do’s not know the truth about us.” I said sitting on a small chair was frozen in place.

“.. Bruce is cursing you out he won’t forget this ever he quoted (Is he chasing some tail) and quote when he said that I wonder what he was thinking I know he do’s not know about us but Bruce is his own mystery on his own if we keep screwing up he will very well find out about us.” Dick says I knew he was right I didn’t want that.

“We could meet up sometime soon.”

“Ok why don’t we meet at the cafe when we first met.”

“Not that place Dick.”

“Where then ?”

“I was think a place where people aren’t around more private.”

“.....” Silence was thick in the air as I put that out there for him to process.

“If you come here Barbra comes here from time to time some of her stuff is here and I think your place is out of the question are you asking to go to some motel.” Oh god it sounded so crass it was not what I wanted it to be like that.

“It’s not what I was talking about we could go anywhere around the world  I’ll take you it could be my Valentine gift.” I said not wanting to sound so dirty.

“Actually a motel sounds nice like you said I could go anywhere we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to but it sounds good to me.” Dick said this conversation went from I hope I didn’t need to explain myself to do you want to make plans to meet up.

“If that’s what you want then that’s what you get.” 

“Which motel Metropolis or Bludhaven.”

End of part 4 next is part five 

Thank you for reading !