#Let he who is without sin cast the first stone and all that

[sizzlingsandwichperfection-blog]

Who among us has not been indicted for 91 felonies by four separate grand juries in four separate jurisdictions?

[kuronekonerochan]

Just had a terrible idea that would be just as evil as it is hilarious:

Suggesting to one of those ultraconservative crazy catholic korean cults that they form a christian kpop group called Straight Kids and have them cover the songs changing the lyrics to bible quotes and praise of god, the son and the holy spirit.

They perform fully clothed, with respectful boring choreographies because it's sinful to provoke lust in their god fearing fans, lest they mislead the youth into temptation.

Their Felix is a castrati inspired choir boy with a high pitched voice.

Their lightstick is cross shaped with the inscription "let there be light". It has a kinetic motion sensor that powers up when you shake it to reveal Jesus' silhouette. It's only visible while the lightstick is being shaken, if you hold it still it disappears. Every lightstick is blessed with holy water by a priest before packaging and shipping.

The fandom is called the lambs (of god, but no one says that part).

Their first cover song is God's Menu and the lyrics are the passages from the Old Testament in Leviticus 14 and Deuteronomy 11 that outline which animals are considered clean and unclean for consumption.

They will hold a concert in support of the impeached former president who tried to install martial law outside the court house during his trial.

One of the members will be kicked out because he agreed to dress as a woman on a celebrity reality show. He was also spotted at a fashion show abroad talking to a gay western celebrity.

The oldest member gets married right after military service and starts having children, doing his duty as a family man and father as god intended. The christening of his baby is live streamed for the fans and the whole group performs in the service. Eventually there will be allegations of domestic violence, but both the fans and company say it's a smear campaign because as a Christian he would never do that, non believers are just haters because they can't accept that he's married to a wife who obeys and submits to him because he's the head of the family and takes that role seriously.

Another member is accused of rape, but fans and label say that of course the rumors are false, since he is saving himself for marriage and that Jezebel who accused him is a sinful lying harlot that had a known previous relationship with a man and they lived together in sin before marriage. She likely tried to seduce him, but as a man of faith he refused her, so in revenge she made up a story saying he raped her.

Currently their fandom the lambs are having a fandom war with another group's fandom because both groups released singles on the same day and they're competing in live streaming and MV visualization numbers. They're also pissed because that other group's song is clearly a veiled diss track mocking Straight Kids.

The other kpop group is called Atheist.

[emmajh97]

🧂...

[tomicscomics]

04/04/2025

NO MEAT!

___

JOKE-OGRAPHY: 1. In the Bible, there's a story where the Pharisees bring a sinful woman to Jesus and explain that, according to Jewish law, she should be stoned for her crimes. They ask Jesus what HE thinks they should do, hoping to trap Him into either (1) condemning a woman to stoning, or (2) contradicting Jewish law. Jesus cleverly does neither, saying, "Let he who is without sin cast the first stone." The Pharisees and gathered crowd depart, grumbling, and Jesus forgives the woman, telling her to sin no more. 2. In this cartoon, Jesus uses the, "Let he who is without sin cast the first stone," line, but as a child. Then He -- the only sinless child among them -- flings a stone, skipping it on the water and impressing all His friends. 3. For those who remember my other Jesus & Friends comics, the kids behind Jesus are Martha, Mary, and Lazarus of Bethany, who show up later in the Bible as friends of Jesus. We don't know what their canon history is, but in my comics, I like to imagine that they, John the Baptist, and Jesus got to hang out as kids.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is yet another "Tomics Resurrection," where I cast an old comic across the surface of time, skipping a few years until it plunks into the present. The original comic is from shortly before I came up with the idea to feature the Bethany Bunch as childhood friends of Jesus in my cartoons, so the kids behind Jesus in the original are just random friends. Still, the cartoon remained largely the same in spirit!

[mn-harper]

rage-

i am an

evil, awful, angry

person.

my rage sits in my chest,

and follows my fingertips' wake.

stockpiled and stuffed away,

set aside for a rainy day.

as if every morning,

i get closer to

inevitably imploding.

i am an

evil, awful, angry

person.

but—

i am deserving,

of time and of space,

of patience and of grace,

because i am human.

i am an

evil, awful, angry

person.

but aren't we all?

we say, "let he

who is without sin,

cast the first stone."

but spend our days coveting pebbles.

-harper

[maybe-im-dark]

Half the boyfriend, half the fun

Chapter 2 | Chapter 1

The best way to pass the time until his legs fully grew back was to sit in Dopinder's car and eat samosas. Wade ignored Dopinder's complaints that his mother had baked them for him. She could make new ones. He had bigger worries. He couldn’t stop thinking about Logan and the fact that he was responsible for his condition. Damn, he couldn’t even remember exactly what had happened! If only he’d never convinced Logan to come along on this mission. But that was just another bad decision added to the long line of bad decisions that defined his life. He could practically hear his father’s voice. Idiot, faggot, loser! You can’t do anything right! Wade shook his head. No! He would make it right. He would find a way to fix this.

He pulled his phone out of his belt pouch and sent a text.

Wade: Hey :3

Negasonic Teenage Bitch: What do you want?

Wade: I need a fayvr. Big one

Negasonic Teenage Bitch: ?

Wade: Logan’s hewrt. U need to find out wat they're dooing to him

Negasonic Teenage Bitch: Find out yourself

Wade: I...may or may not be bent from the promises

Negasonic Teenage Bitch: Not my problem

Wade: Then I’ll brayk in

Negasonic Teenage Bitch: You’re gonna get in so much trouble

Wade: Aight bet

Wade looked down at his legs. A few toes were still missing, but otherwise, they were back in their scarred, pale glory.

"Dopinder, I have to go. You wouldn’t happen to have pants for me, would you?"

He eyed Dopinder’s jeans.

Dopinder shook his head vigorously. "No, you’re not getting mine!"

Wade sighed. "It’s probably for the best. These buns don’t wear Levi’s!"

Sneaking around the back of the building was easier than expected. There was no sign of security cameras, but then again, who needed them with mutants who could see through walls? Unfortunately for him, none of the windows were open, so his plan of entering quietly was thwarted. Concentrating, he scanned the ground until he found what he was looking for.

"Let him, who is without sin, cast the first stone!" he muttered with a grin, tossing a rock through the window.

After climbing inside, Wade realized he was completely lost. The mansion was a maze, and he’d only been there a few times. The wood-paneled walls all looked the same, and the portraits of old white men didn’t provide any hints as to where he was.

"Quentin, was that you? I told you to..."

Storm was descending the stairs. Her white hair was styled in a sassy pixie cut, and she wore a pink crop top with glittery letters spelling out, "RAINING ON YOUR PARADE."

When she saw Wade, she let out a sharp shriek and covered her eyes.

"Wade?"

"Yes?"

"Why aren’t you wearing pants?"

The mercenary puffed out his chest. "Marvel Jesus doesn’t need mundane things like pants!"

Storm sighed, still covering her eyes. "I’ll take you to the Professor."

Now wearing a pair of gray sweatpants emblazoned with the school emblem, Wade sat stiffly in front of Professor Xavier’s desk, arms crossed, staring at the wall. The spacious office felt confining to him, like a cage, despite the ample space and the light streaming through the tall windows. Behind the desk was a bookshelf set into the wood-paneled wall, filled with countless books whose gilded, ornate titles he couldn’t decipher. In one corner stood a large globe, and in another, a sitting area with a chessboard. On the desk itself were a few file folders, a Newton’s cradle, and a photo of the Professor himself, younger and with a full head of hair. Beside him stood another young man with his arm draped around him, presumably Magneto. It might have been more than a friendly gesture; they’d been arguing for decades like an old married couple.

"Wade," Charles said, giving him a calming smile. "Can I offer you something to drink?"

Wade shook his head defiantly. "I don’t want a drink. I want to see Logan."

The Professor’s expression turned somber. "You know that’s not possible."

"Urgh, okay. I’m sorry for calling you Egghead. Can I see Logan now?"

"I don’t think you fully understand the gravity of the situation, Wade. Something has nullified Logan’s healing factor. Dr. McCoy is currently treating him, and any outside influence could be harmful to him in this critical state."

Wade’s eyes narrowed. "So, what am I supposed to do now?"

Charles thoughtfully placed a finger on his chin. "Well, you could help by telling us what happened. Jean mentioned that you also lost your legs. A failed mission, I assume. What exactly happened there?"

Wade ran his hands over his face. "That’s the thing! I don’t remember! I..."

His voice broke. Loser. He was a fucking loser. The love of his life was fighting for his life, and his brain had decided to shut down. Logan was going to die painfully, and it was all his fault. Tears welled up in his eyes.

Charles took his hand and squeezed it gently. "I could help you remember."

Wade nearly jumped out of his chair. "Oh no! After Cassandra Nova—did you know you had a psychopathic twin sister?— there’s no way I’m letting anyone into my head again."

"I’ll only see what you allow me to see, and only with your consent," Charles assured him.

Wade swallowed and nodded. After all, this wasn’t about him. Charles slowly extended his fingertips toward him. He’d nearly reached Wade’s temple when the screams echoed through the halls. Desperate, raw, agonizing screams. Logan’s screams.

Wade burst out the door, ignoring the Professor’s shouts. He ran down the hallway, nearly tripping over his own feet. He didn’t know where he was going, just following the sound of the screams, his chest tight with fear. His bare feet slapped against the wooden floor as he followed the sounds to a door with frosted glass. It was locked, but that was no obstacle for Wade, who’d served in a military special unit. He pivoted halfway, raised his leg, and kicked hard. The door burst open.

Nothing in the world could have prepared him for the sight that greeted him. Hank was bending over an operating table. Logan lay on it, his torso crudely stapled back together at the hips. But that wasn’t the worst of it. What froze the blood in Wade’s veins were the tubes. Countless tubes and wires ran out of Logan’s body and back into him at different points. He looked like a machine. But unlike machines, he was screaming.

Wade was reminded of Weapon X. He quickly made his way over to Logan. Logan’s eyes darted back and forth beneath his closed lids.

"Oh God, what did you do to him?"

He reached out to stroke Logan’s face, but Logan’s hand shot out, gripping his arm. His eyes snapped open, revealing yellow irises staring at Wade from blood-red sclera. His lips parted, exposing razor-sharp fangs. Then he lunged forward and sank his teeth into Wade.

[theshoesofatiredman]

rant: i feel like the ‘nice’ christians are worse than the outright hateful ones. the blonde peppy girls with john 3:16 in their instagram bio that are like “i don’t hate lgbt people!! i just disagree with their lifestyle. love the sinner hate the sin <3” LIKE GIRL STFU. it makes no sense to say this. i’d literally prefer for an old person to just call us abominations or degenerates.

the best analogy i can think of is, let’s say having red hair was a sin. so, as a redheaded person, you being born that way isn’t necessarily a sin. you’re still loved by god! but…since you grow out red hair you have to keep it continually shaved. again, there’s nothing wrong with having the red hair gene!! but it’s just a sin for it to start growing :)

that’s how dumb these mfs sound who say gay ppl have to be celibate for life. i cant stand it at all. even worse, homosexuality is grouped in with sins like murder, adultery, etc. wtf!!! one time i was reading a christian book and the writer was like “There are so many problems with our world. Misogyny, trafficking, abuse, pedophilia, r*pe, homosexuality”….ONE OF THESE THINGS IS NOT LIKE THE OTHERS. how do they not see that?

I'm not sure if you want me to answer your last question, because on one hand, it seems rhetorical. But I do have theories!

For starters, they can't see how unlike the others is because they were conditioned against it by their religion. Many are so indoctrinated with the idea that all sin is hated equally by God, so when considering lists like this, they are not considering impact or harm. Theirs is not an ethic based on harmful outcomes. It's one God's opinion over everyone else's. To justify it, their theology makes God to be the ultimate good so a relationship with him is the ultimate good. And anything God calls sin alienates us from him and is therefore harmful to us because it deprives us of the ultimate good. But you have to bring it back to: well what does God actually think is harmful about gay love? They have answers to that question but they aren't good ones.

Second, it's easy to not recognize the wrongness of homosexuality's inclusion on this list because most people aren't gay. It's easier to miss what you've never experienced. It's also easier to hold people morally responsible for a choice you'll never have to make. A straight man who never lusts after a man is without the specific sin and he is able to cast the first stone far more easily.

Third, and in a similar vein to the above, it's really easily to moralize based on disgust. If something seems gross, it is so much easier to think there's something wrong with it. Unfortunately, sex that people don't want to have often seems disgusting. If you're straight, the idea of participating in gay sex is probably not going to feel good and it is so so easy for that disgust to be moralized against gay sex havers. It's so important to not let disgust drive your morals but many people miss this.

Fourth, homosexuality has been falsely equivocated with all of those other things. The idea that LGBTQ people are rapists, pedophiles, abusers, and/or child traffickers is a prevalent one amongst homophobes. They don't realize the difference because in bigoted circles the words are synonymous.

Fifth, I grew up hearing that acceptance of gay relationships in America was going to cause God to destroy the country like he had wiped out previous nations, like he had done to Sodom and Gomorrah. There are folks in positions of power and authority who are just making shit up and some people don't know any better bc they're in a bubble with little to no out gay people. It's harder to think gay people are going to bring down god's fiery wrath when there's a loving Jesus following gay couple in the neighboring pew or as your actual neighbor. Many people in these bigoted communities don't have enough experience with gay people to realize at first just how full of shit their leaders are and after they roll it into their worldview the change is so hard to make they're stuck like that.

I agree with you that "I don't hate LGBTQ people!! I just disagree with their lifestyle ✨💖" are still being bigoted. They would vote against my rights as a gay man and that is discrimination based on sexual orientation. They would likely still oppress me by-proxy if they could. They would vote for someone else to put the boot on my neck, but they wouldn't do it themselves.

And like there is that difference. I would rather that brand of Christian than a Nazi, or then the brand of Christian who thinks gay people should be rounded up and shot. I think it's a false equivalency to say they're the same. A society where homophobes have to be passive aggressive to maintain social acceptance rather than acceptance is one where gay people get to live longer. It's not perfect, but it is improved.

However, I also understand that it's so fucking frustrating because it's impossible to get the love the sinner hate the sin type Christian to see the harm they're doing and how hateful they are coming off. It feels worse because it's candy coated shit and you would've rather seen the shit coming. You would rather the violence know its own name than pretend to be love. It makes love feel hollow and empty because what they're handing you is this broken twisted version.

And we deserve better than that.

[howlingday]

Port: And for our next match, we have YANG XIAO LONG! VERSUS! JAUNE ARC! BEGIN!

Yang: I hope you're ready to meet that god you like praying to so much.

Jaune: As the Lord said, "Let he who is without sin, cast the first stone!"

Jaune: (Swings) HA!

Yang: (Knocks him to the dirt) Is that all you got, choir boy?

Jaune: (Grips thread) Go to hell, wicked spawn of Satan! (Tugs)

Yang: (Looks at tumbling boulders) You think you can send me to Hell? (Obliterates rocks) BITCH, I AM HELL!

Jaune: Oh, God... Please... Help me!

Yang: NOW, DIE!

???: STOP, IN THE NAME OF THE LORD.

Yang: (Stops)

Jesus: I HAVE HEARD THIS BOY'S PRAYERS.

Audience: Is that Jesus?! (Cheers)

Yang: Shit... I didn't know we were playing with Assists!

Jesus: I have come to save this poor child.

Yang: (Decks Jesus)

Jesus: (Dies)

Audience: OH MY GOD! SHE KILLED JESUS! (Boos) YOU STINK!

Yang: Oh, calm the fuck down! He'll be back in three days!

[get-a-grip-lily]

It is so poetic for Lily to accuse Rebecca Sugar of being racist in her show, and claiming Rebecca used her status as LGBT to ‘sling racism unopposed’. Especially since Lily has no problem saying incredibly racist things about Japanese people to her impressionable audience.

It goes without saying that doing this is incredibly terrible to do, since she always tries to convince her fans that she is always right about absolutely everything and anything. She’s fine potentially turning at least SOME of her fans into being racist towards Japanese people for writing ‘soft-core porn of young girls being raped by relatable heroes’, while also simultaneously lying about writing multiple MLP fanfics about the very same premise and purposefully making the rapists the heroes or sympathetic.

While I am not debating that there is a lot of media from Japan that are as she described, she ignores nuance and insists that ALL of the media from Japan is like that.

As you said when you encouraged Josh to groom Ink Rose, let he who is without sin cast the first stone, Lily.

[vivicantstudy]

Why I Believe Kindness Within Religion is the Only Way to Bring Non-Believers to Conversion

Faith is not about judgment; it is about love. As Jesus said, “Do not judge, and you will not be judged” (Luke 6:37). None of us is perfect, and we are not called to condemn others but to lead them with compassion. If we want to draw others closer to God, we must reflect His love in our words and actions.

God is love, and it is through love that the greatest works of faith have been accomplished. Jesus Himself showed this throughout His ministry. It wasn’t through harsh words or condemnation that He brought sinners to repentance, but through mercy and understanding. “Let the one who is without sin cast the first stone” (John 8:7), He said to those ready to judge the adulterous woman. In that moment, He reminded us all that only love has the power to heal and transform hearts.

When we approach others with kindness and empathy, we are living out the commandment Jesus gave us: “Love one another as I have loved you” (John 13:34). Love brings people closer; it opens hearts and allows God’s grace to work within them. On the other hand, judgment and condemnation only push people away. If we think that hate or harshness is righteous, we must reflect on what kind of faith we are fostering—one based on fear, or one rooted in Christ’s infinite love?

Empathy is the key to reaching wounded hearts. When we truly listen and walk alongside those who feel lost, we imitate the Good Shepherd, who leaves the ninety-nine sheep to find the one that is lost (Luke 15:4-7). Our kindness becomes a reflection of God’s mercy, showing others that they are valued and loved, no matter their past.

Do not believe in false prophets. Fear gives rise to manipulation. You don’t need to surround yourself with what harms you. You hold the Bible in your hands and in your heart—that is all you need. Seek out other Christians who will show you the Word of God, not the fear of hell. Read, study, and never stop learning.

Many non-believers perceive religion as cold or judgmental, but this perception changes when they witness genuine acts of love. Saint Paul reminds us in his letter to the Corinthians: “If I have all faith, so as to move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing” (1 Corinthians 13:2). It is through love that faith becomes alive and transformative.

Ultimately, conversion is not something we can force. It is a gift that only God can give, but He works through us to prepare the way. When we live the Gospel with kindness, humility, and forgiveness, we invite others to experience the joy and peace that come from knowing Christ. Let us remember that it was through love that Jesus performed His greatest miracles, and it is through love that we, too, can lead others to Him.

[theprettynosferatu]

Note: This is not a kink story, it's a psychological horror story. Still, I hope you'll enjoy it! The character of Shaun was created by hTheconqueror.

I

Beyond the door, the party rages on. Shaun wants to go back, desires it with the kind of longing women expressed in letters to their boyfriends at war, long, long ago. Instead, he looks at the mirror. The bags under his eyes. The stubble. The sheen of insomnia and alcohol coating his eyes. He feels as if he wears his sins on his very skin. How others can look at him and not notice them is a mystery to him. 

Lucille would notice them, if she saw him. She wouldn’t say a thing, of course. But she would give him The Look: that silent judgment their parents had perfected and passed on to their golden child, their pretty, demure, perfect daughter. Shaun could see her in his mind, head down in the books, taking notes, repeating out loud the key points of the topic at hand. He feels his chest tightening, his feet growing cold, something like a slug crawling up his spine. He should be doing the same thing. He should have devoted more time to his studies, to avoid the need of a late term crunch. He shouldn’t be at a party. 

He tries to push the guilt away. What good will it do now? He’s here. He should be enjoying himself, like everyone else out there. Way to go, kiddo. Locked in a stranger’s bathroom, not doing what you should do, not doing what you want to do- or what you think you want to do to avoid facing what you should do. Fucking grand champion you are. The thoughts come to him unbidden, solid like stones. Well, let he who is without sin cast the first one. Shaun sure as Hell isn’t without sin, but that doesn’t keep him from stoning himself. Do the voices sound more like his parents or his sister, he wonders. 

He knows he’s spiraling. And the only way to keep it from getting even worse is to ignore it all. Get out there, try to regain some of that enjoyment, of that being-in-the-moment. Yes, ignore everything. That has worked so, so well.

Fuck it. There’s a party out there, and Shaun intends to enjoy himself. He takes a deep breath, counts to five. Exhales, counting to eight. Waits for a count of three. Inhales again, repeats the process until he feels like something close to himself. The door handle reminds him of the coat of sweat on his palms, but he chooses to ignore it. He can fake it until the pleasure becomes real again, the laughter sincere.

The smell of weed is almost overpowering, even with the windows cracked open. He wishes, just for a moment, that he could partake in that particular vice. It feels so seductive to just smoke his worries away. To let go of his own need to keep a grip on things. But he knows he won’t do it. There are sins and there are sins and his family has put the fear of God and Drugs deep inside him from birth. Just getting drunk is a transgression he knows he’ll pay for in both hangover and shame soon enough. He suspects he might be getting a contact high for a moment, before remembering that his stupid brain doesn’t need chemical assistance to go into full alert for no reason.

And Shaun is certainly going into full alert. Like machine gun fire, details and sensations batter down his senses. The way a ring sparkles, reflecting the cheap LED strips that provide so-called “ambiance” to the house party. How a girl to his left lets loose a little sort of yelp every time she laughs. Slightly crooked glasses frames on running makeup. One of the speakers failing, distorting the high-end of the music. The scent of butane from a guy playing with a lighter. An amorous couple in a dark corner, his face buried in her neck. The taste in the air of slightly charred brownies. Everything is too near. Too clear, and at the same time, slightly warped, as if coming to him from behind a subtle veil. 

Then the battle begins. Shaun would welcome the distraction, if only the intruder’s shirt wasn’t a hideous Hawaiian mess of clashing colors that is, in itself, an attack on everyone watching in general and Shaun in particular. The Man in the Shirt is arguing with the frattish kid manning the laptop and blasting the kind of music that commands the listener to dance and have the night of their lives. Some wasted chick tries to ride in aid of the poor, besieged DJ. One of her stockings has run down to her mid-thigh. Shirt Man seems to be shouting. Shaun half-wishes he could know what he’s saying, while part of him is grateful for the distance sheltering him from both words and the full effect of The Shirt. Eventually Shirt Man prevails, and DJ Kid cuts his losses. Shaun feels like he’s melding with the wall. 

Shirt Man seems to have interesting tastes. All his songs seem to be from between 1982 and 2001, no further. The crowd is most certainly not feeling it. Shaun feels invisible, watching just as a scientist would observe a primitive tribe. No one dares challenge Shirt Man, who appears to be getting more and more angry at the people’s lack of enthusiasm for his musical selection. Shirt Man’s eyes scour the living room, studying every reaction. When they set on Shaun, a chill goes down his legs and he looks down. Don’t look at me, Shirt Man. I can’t stand to be looked at right now. Focus on your own shit, man. People are leaving.

Shaun decides to leave as well. It feels like defeat. Unable to do productive things. Unable to relax like a normal goddamn person. Failure. His exit has the taste of punishment- not by the hand of God but by his own, shaped and molded by God’s rules. Or his parents’ rules. Same thing, really. 

Outside, the moon appears to watch him with bemused indifference as he walks back to his apartment.  

II

After three sleepless nights, Shaun decides he hates the sun, that unblinking eye, like God’s gaze, casting light on his every sin. He knows it’s irrational, but he can swear there’s a mark on him, a malaise that everyone can see. He’s stained, polluted. Broken.

He wants to tell everyone to stop looking at him. He wants to punch his roommate Raul for putting him in this situation. A walk would be good for you, man. Yeah, right. 

He’s being unfair. He knows it. Raul is worried. Shaun wishes Raul would just leave him the fuck alone. But then again, what good would that do? Three days of supposed crunch, and nothing to show for it. Every second brings him closer to a final deadline that looms, in his mind, with the mortifying certainty of death. He knows it’s not a life or death situation. He wishes he could convince his chest of that fact, but his heart keeps pounding away in a mad frenzy.

Everything around him feels unreal. Distant. The street is a mess of color and movement with no meaning. His steps lead him nowhere. He wants to be inside, anywhere with four walls and a roof- like a womb, or a safe bubble. But he knows the instant he finds a place, he will feel claustrophobic, with every nerve ending screaming to get out. No peace indoors. No peace outdoors. Sweating like a condemned man walking up the gallows.

Insomnia is one hell of a mindfuck, he thinks. Hours spent reading books, only to not recall anything except a phrase here, a fragmented piece of a diagram there, half a definition of a term he should know, but can’t recall. A waste of time. Unable to sleep. Unable to be productive. Utterly useless. Even his perception is misfiring- startled by something moving right at the edge of his vision. Something that isn’t there. At least out in the sun he’s not scaring himself to death with imaginary phantoms. No, he’s scaring himself to death with real people, looking at him, seeing him in all his pathetic mediocrity. Oh, stop feeling sorry for yourself. So you have a final. Boo-fucking-hoo. There’s people out there with real problems. What right do you have to collapse over a task so simple your sister could do it without breaking a sweat? She has been through shit too, you know. And you don’t see her fucking up her life- and you, bucko, are fucking up big time.

Ice-cream. The thought appears like a raft in the middle of a storm. If anything has remained true in Shaun’s life, is that ice-cream makes everything better. Despite all the changes, despite moving across the world with his family, despite his constant shortcomings as a person… ice-cream is always there.

He looks at the list on the wall. The ice-cream parlor feels small. Oppressive. The words seem to slide right off him. None of the flavors seem appetizing in the slightest. Shaun tries to remember what each of those words tastes like, tries to figure out what he wants. What the fuck does he want? Shit, shit, the line is moving too fast. The girl behind the counter looks bored out of her mind. Don’t look at me. Don’t see me. Don’t see my failure. 

He ends up ordering almond chocolate, just because it was his favorite as a kid, more as a reflexive action than a real choice. Anything to get out of there. Anything to get away from the girl’s eyes.

He’s eating ice-cream on a park bench. Alone. It tastes like nothing. His mind keeps racing as he devours the treat, not taking the time to enjoy it. Not that there’s anything to enjoy. It’s just… ice-cream. How stupid is he? Why did he think ice-cream would solve anything? How pathetic he must look, he figures. Eating his sad little ice-cream by himself. People must pity him. He can almost feel their disdain as they walk by. He deserves it. He deserves their scorn.

Well, great job, Ice-Cream Boy. You can’t even relax right. Let’s add this to the ever-growing list of your failures, shall we?

It sure feels like a failure. Shaun wonders back home, trying not to look at people’s faces. Maybe he’ll be able to nap, he figures. Yes. A nap would fix him. And after that, he could truly buckle down and study. That’s the ticket.

He wishes he could believe it.

III

A restless, half-sleep. Exhaustion closes Shaun’s eyes. Before he knows it they spring open, his heart beating as if he’s falling into an endless, merciless void. He’s sweating. His sheets feel like a thousand hands suffocating him. He tries to take slow, calming breaths. He puts on relaxing meditation videos on his laptop. He tries to push it all down, to go back to something resembling normalcy. His eyes close and he drifts to sleep, only to wake up again with a scream stuck in his throat. He realizes he’s too tired to actually scream, even if he wanted to. Time gets fragmented. A wink can take an hour. An hour can feel like a week. Blood rushes through his veins. He needs to escape, but there’s nothing chasing him, nowhere to run to. Anywhere he goes, he will be there. He can’t escape himself. The thoughts come to him, taunting him. Birds start chirping outside, announcing the dawn to come. He hates them. They sing his sleepless night. They mock his failure to sleep. He sits up, shaking. It’s there again, just… there, at the edge of sight- some blur of clashing colors that vanishes as soon as he tries to focus on it. There’s nothing there, boy. Your mind is too tired to make sense. You can’t trust that rusty tangle of cables you call a brain.

Part of him wishes Raul would wake up. Wishes he could tell him how fucked up he’s feeling. Wishes his roommate will somehow find the exact words to make it all better. Oh, you sound like a kid longing for mommy. How pathetic can you get? As the first rays of sunlight slither through the window, he gets up. He needs to be out of his room. Anywhere else will be better. Oh, you idiot. Anywhere is the same. He shambles down the hall, collapses on the couch. Broken. Broken. Broken. The word gets stuck in his head, an endless loop shutting out all hope. The ice is cracking, little broken boy. You’re going under.

“Hey. Did you sleep on the couch?”

Shaun wishes that was the truth. Raul is looking at him with a degree of concern that feels both frightening and somehow insulting, like Shaun is transparent, all his fucked up thoughts plain to see. Don’t. Look. At. Me.

“No. I just… I…”

“Hey. Shaun. It’s okay. Did you manage to get any sleep? At all?”

“No.”

“Shit.”

The silence grows heavy between them. Maybe it’s a male thing, Shaun half-thinks. Maybe Raul is particularly ill-equipped to help. Maybe Shaun was deluded in his desperate hope. His friend won’t help. He can’t help. No one can help.

“I think… there’s something wrong.”, Shaun manages to get out with a shivering voice.

“Well, of course. I… Maybe you can just not turn in that final… it wouldn’t be, you know, great, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world. Maybe you’ll have to retake that course, but…”

“It’s not just the final.” Shaun says, oddly feeling the absence of an anger he knows he would normally feel. “It’s something else. Something… I don’t know how to explain it…”

“Just do your best, man. Lay it on me.”

“I think I might be going crazy.”

“That’s a big, you know, like a big-big statement”

“Yeah. I know, but…”

“And not sleeping is not always a sign of madness, right?”

“Sure. Whatever. Raul, listen. It’s not just the insomnia, okay? I’m being serious. I’m… seeing something.”

“Something? Seeing what?”

“I… I don’t fucking know, ok? It’s just, like… a blur of swirling, clashing colors, except they’re not there if I look at them. I know I’m making zero sense, but… I don’t know how else to describe it. It’s this color that’s not a color, and it’s watching me. I feel how… petty it is. How cruel. And it’s always looking at me, always there, all night, just… watching.”

Raul is scared now. It’s obvious to Shaun, no matter how much his friend tries to hide it. Eyes darting around the room. His tell-tale leg bouncing. He’s afraid. Not of Shaun, not of the being haunting him, but for Shaun. It feels worse than anything else, and yet even the self-pity Shaun experiences is strangely… dull. Like a shadow of a feeling. 

“Look, man, just… stay here, okay? Rest up. I have to… I have to go to work, but when I come back we’ll figure it out. I think I have some pills somewhere that…”

“No pills, please. I…”

“What, could they make you feel worse? How? Look, they’re just normal anxiety pills. A lot of people take them every now and then. You need to sleep, man!”

Shaun can’t fight him. He shakes on the couch as Raul opens drawers and looks inside bags, until he announces his triumph with exaggerated, theatrical gestures. Shaun figures Raul is trying to pretend things aren’t so bad, and failing badly at it. Fine. Pills it is.

Raul leaves. Shaun shakes, covered in sweat. The pills kick in quickly, sending him into more restless not-sleep. He blinks hours away. He wants to scream and cry and end it all. The only thing he can do is stay there, on that damn couch, shaking.

IV

A hand on his foot rips him from a nightmare. There’s a mixture of feelings inside Shaun: a faraway, muted safety, almost as if that single hand was the one thing holding him together lest his chest explode; at the same time, a profound misery and some remnants of anger try to surface once he realizes who the hand belongs to.

“Hey.”, says his sister.

“Why are you here?”, is all Shaun can muster. Rude. Petty. Pathetic. Lucille should be acing tests. She should be doing whatever it is perfect fucking people do. Instead, his sorry state has brought her here. Wasting her time. She really is wasting her time, isn’t she? You’re not worth her time.

“Raul texted me. Said you were sick- didn’t go into detail but he seemed really freaked out. Did you see a doctor?”

“I’m not sick. I’m… I’m not okay, but I’m not sick. No point in seeing a doctor. They wouldn’t be able to help.”

“Okay… it’s a… psychological issue. So what? There are doctors for that too, you know. And… I mean, do you want to talk about it?”

“What’s the time?”

“Sorry?”

“What time is it, Lucille? Is it night already? I have no fucking notion of… it’s just… the fucking pill Raul gave me, it made me all loopy. I’ll… I’ll be fine, okay? But… is it night?”

“Why? What happens at night?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know. But it’s worse at night. The thing, it- nevermind.”

“The thing? What thing? Look, I get it. You don’t want to talk about it, and you certainly don’t want to tell me about it, but there’s nothing to be ashamed of, okay? Whatever it is, whatever you’re… sensing, or seeing, or feeling… you can tell me. If you broke a leg, would you be embarrassed to see a doctor? This is the same. The brain is an organ and it can-”

“Look, Lucille, I appreciate it. I do. But I’m not dealing with a bone here. People don’t… you know, when you have a cast on your leg. And anyway Raul should be home soon so he…”

“Yeah, he, um, he’s gonna crash with some friend tonight”

You scared him. He can’t stand being near you, you crazy freak.

“Don’t worry. I’ll stay with you, if you’ll let me”, says Lucille. Oh, good. Girl is going after all the good Samaritan points. Shaun is too tired to argue, but he’s not about to spend a night with the living embodiment of everything he has failed to be. He gets up, dizzy- fucking couch. He hates the couch. Hates that he spent all day on it. Hates that Lucille saw him that way. Hates her. Hates himself. And yet only the last part feels truly real. The rest is less an emotion and more a secondhand telling of an emotion, or an emotion described by a particularly lazy narrator. A silhouette of where an emotion should be. He gestures at the fucking couch.

“You can… there. I’ll… just go to bed”

He shambles back to the room. Closes the door. He needs to be alone. He needs to rest. He needs to get his head straight, somehow. He needs to show Lucille he’s not some pitiful, crazy, charity case. If only he could calm his mind, have some proper sleep…

He’s on the bed. Did he fall? No. No, he was pushed… by… colors. Pushed by colors? That’s insane. A scream dies in his throat as a weight pins him down and a single second of pain assaults him, like syringes in his neck…

Then, peace. Simple, complete, blissful peace. His heart rate slows down. His breathing steadies. He feels as if he’s floating. Light. It’s okay. Everything is okay. Everything will be okay. His heart slows down more and more. Good. Things start going dark. That’s fine by him too. 

Suddenly, his peace is ripped away. The figure towers over him, flushed, rejoicing. Colors that slowly start making sense. The ugliest Hawaiian shirt he’s ever seen. Then, the Shirt Man smiles, his pupils like needlepoints. 

“Still not enjoying my tunes, asshole? I saw you, staring at me. Yes, you freak. Freak. I’ve felt that fucking brains of yours. Didn’t have to twist too much, didn’t I? Mr. Too-Good-For-Your-Music. Mr. Too-Classy-For-Your-Shirt. That’s what you thought, wasn’t it? What? Too sexy for this shirt? Too sexy for this shirt? Right Said Fred, ninteen-ninety-fucking-one! You uncultured swine! You fucked up freak! I barely had to break you! You were already broken! I like that you’re bro-ken…”

Shaun is too weak to move. Shirt Man is dancing. Shaun can’t tell if the creature is screaming or whispering. He seems to be doing both. Darkness crawls from the edges of his vision. He wants to scream for help. He can’t. Too tired. Too late. Failure. As usual.

“And now you die. Die-die-die! It’s shutting down. I can hear it, you know? It’s slowing down- your heart. Your breaky-achy-heart, bozo! No tomorrow… no tomorroOooow…”

Somehow his singing hits every note but the right one. Shaun can’t help but notice. It’s all so ridiculous. This is how he dies: serenaded by an off-key creep in the most offensive shirt ever manufactured. A smile almost forms on his pale lips.

“What’s so funny? I’m funny? Funny? You’re dying and you find it funny? No, no, no, you’re mocking me! Still! Still! You’re dying and you’re mocking me! So cruel! I gave you my gift of illumination! I made you see the world, feel the world how it truly is! And I’m giving you an exit! And you mock me? I give you all a boy could give you! Oh, tainted fuck! No. No, no no. I take it back! You don’t deserve an exit!”

Shirt man bites his own arm, and pushes the bloody wound on Shaun’s mouth. Shaun’s out of it, almost like he’s watching a reaction video of someone watching the scene. His lips part, almost by instinct.

“Yes! Do it! Feels good, doesn’t it? Celebrate good times, come on! Celebrate forever and ever and ever, you pathetic clown! No rest for the terminally classless!”

It’s fire. It’s a spring in the desert. It’s a lover’s caress. It’s a mother’s hug. Shaun drinks it all in. When the arm is pulled away, he convulses on the bed. Death. Finally.

“There’s nothing left to do but say goodbye…”, laughs Shirt Man.

V    

A blast to the chest. Shaun feels as if he’s having a heart attack- a feeling that vanishes as quickly as it came, leaving behind barely an afterimage as something else, something more urgent, pulses inside him. He can hear something pounding, so close, almost as if it’s beating the insides of his skull.

His eyes open and a tidal wave hits him. The moonlight shimmering on every speck of dust floating in the air around him. The breathing of the neighbor’s dog. The stench of a long-forgotten chip under the bed. It’s all too much. Too much. Shaun wants to just curl up on the ground and let everything wash over him. To just… not be there. 

But he can’t. The pounding is getting stronger. It demands something from him. What, he cannot tell- only that a scent is coming from the living room, beckoning him, conquering every other emotion until his existence is reduced to a constant, meaningless barrage of stimuli. The creaking of his soles on the floor. The almost painful coldness of the door handle. The sweet, sickly perfume of shampoo, applied earlier in the day. The glint of half-formed tears in a pair of eyes. The slushing of blood coursing through veins. And the pounding of a heart, quickly accelerating. There’s nothing else. Nothing to think, nothing to consider. No hope to stop what’s going to happen. Nothing but red.

Elation. Peace. Ecstasy. Everything he could ever want or need, the only thing that matters, that will ever matter. It comes in delightful waves, coming slower and slower to Shaun until his heavenly tranquility fades away.

She looks too white, almost hurting his eyes. Shaun can almost see how cold his sister’s body is. The almost invisible marks he left on her neck. 

No. It’s not real. Can’t be. He refuses. 

He’s standing on a street he has never seen before. How did he get here? Dazed, he looks down. The red is too bright, strident, painful. The coppery smell, overwhelming. No, it can’t be her blood. How long was he… out?

A voice sings in the distance. Where? Shaun doesn’t know. He takes one unsure step, then another. Maybe he should clean up. Maybe he should hide. Maybe he should run the other way. But the song beckons, the night awaits, the city wears a new vibrancy. Step by step, he goes deeper into the maze of alleyways, one hungry shadow among many.

His heart is not beating. He knows it. And yet he can feel the tension in his chest, like the pain from a phantom limb. He can taste his sin like tar in his mouth. He feels hollowed out, and the space of what he once was filled by the dense fog of shame. He follows the song. There’s nothing else for him to do- and part of him hopes and dreads that the silent melody will lead him to another few precious, terrible moments of sweet, red relief.

Did you like this story? You can support my work at patreon.com/prettynosferatu

[tirednyokie]

You want my honest opinion on some of the election statistics & politics right now? I never, NEVER, like to comment on politics, but I'm tired of being quiet and holding this in. There is no one I can be honest with and talk to other than you lovely people on the internet.

I voted blue as a young white christian woman. I was born and raised in the heart of a red state. My parents were considered super conservative, even to other Christians and conservatives. My extended family is still that way, to the point where asking genuine questions about history and reason is seen and taken as offensive and treacherous to the American good. When I went to college, I was still a very right-wing minded person. Here's the thing: I naturally have a soft heart. I don't like being mean, and I don't appreciate other people being crappy for no good reason. My upbringing in the church and my relationship with Jesus Christ both in and out of the church has only strengthened that part of me.

So, in college, I encountered a number of classmates and fellow musicians that were of other ethnicities, members of the LGBTQ community, and so much more. I learned quickly to see them as my cohorts and friends, and that I had no grounds to judge them based on their life and struggles. As they say, and I take literally, hate the sin, love the sinner. I couldn't care less if you're black, white, gay, trans, struggling with drug addictions, addictions to anything like porn, social media, etc.

I struggle with some of that too, which gives me no ground to judge. As the Bible says, "He who is without sin, cast the first stone." I am no better than anyone else, and I am actively trying to make that evident in my life.

As I said before, my ultra conservative christian family didn't like this. Not one bit of it. I managed to befriend and be a safe place for a number of my fellow musicians, because I knew about their bad experiences with other christians and the church, a recent burn from the church on myself, and their mixed family backgrounds that made my being an older sister that much more important. So, naturally, I started to lean more left, and at the same time, away from the "church."

To say I left the church would be accurate. Christianity, less so. It has been a rough four years in finding my faith again. But in the midst of that, I learned about the world around me from the perspectives of both christian and non-christian. I didn't have a reason to be spiteful or hateful towards a specific demographic (unlike some of my family).

Then I graduated and moved to New York, and let me tell you - blue state living is where it's at. But in stepping away from something you've been immersed in your whole life, you then see the issues within. I noticed this with the church, then with my family, and then my hometown and state. There are some SERIOUS issues with all of them.

This TikTok explains a lot of what I think of the modern "church:" https://www.tiktok.com/@k.t.phillips21/video/7434922467652554027?_r=1&_t=8rGnfwwJxNP

The church condemns so many things, until it applies to them. The burn from the church in my life came from a previous pastor telling someone to do something behind all of our backs, and that led to my family collapsing in on itself and my brother attempting suicide seven times. All because one man thought he knew what should be the case in a situation, and didn't think to bring God into the matter.

For my family, it's the same type of thing. The allowance of certain things, while condemning the same things when others struggle. It's exhausting. So, when I moved to New York, I blocked numbers, deleted others, and had a serious talk with my immediate family about boundaries and what being 20+ hours away meant. I happen to have understanding parents and siblings after the events of three years ago. On the other hand, my extended family is messed up. Constant asking of "are you depressed" or "do you have a boyfriend yet," while not actually caring about the answer, or just blatantly ignoring the truth. Recently, I cut off almost all of one side of my extended family because of a wedding happening in March between a girl who is barely eighteen and a boy (he is NOT a man, he just happens to be my cousin) who is TWENTY SEVEN. The relationship was arranged, and they recently decided to move the wedding up by 4 months because, and I quote: "he(cousin) just couldn't wait 😉." Mind you, his last relationship, he kidnapped from one state under the guise of "meeting the family" but was actually bringing her to another state after dating for three weeks to marry her without her family's knowledge or consent. It's messed up.

My hometown and state? Oklahoma. I think that question answers itself. Considering that it was completely red on Tuesday, and is the top state of searches "can I change my vote."

Anyways - I am disappointed in a lot of people. So many things were on the line in this election, and the fact that people are just now educating themselves on what this means now that they've re-elected Trump is ridiculous.

If a felon cannot get a job in some areas or vote, why the hell should one become president? Second - why is said felon SO quiet after winning? Something is wrong.

To my fellow women who voted blue, I'm sorry for what we're going to see and what we're encountering just days after the election. To the LGBTQ people who see this, I'm sorry too. To all of you blue (and some red) friends, I am sorry. I'm sorry that 53% of white women voted against a reasonable choice, and voted for a literal felon, rapist, and just crappy dude. I'm sorry that all of us are having so much mixed emotion about what the next 4 years looks like while my family and many others are home celebrating the idea of cheaper groceries. I wish I could hug many of you, because it's crappy that we're united and meeting like this.

To the people who voted red - I'm sure you've heard this already, but I really hope you get what you asked for. I hope you get what you wanted. I hope it affects you directly. I hope you see what happens when you don't educate yourself until it's too late. I hope you see what happens when you only look out for yourself. I hope you see how un-loving and un-Christian some of you are acting.

For the little boys (you are NOT men in my eyes right now) that keep saying "your body, my choice" and are saying so many crappy things to the women in and out of your life because you feel empowered by one president-elect: I hope you eat your words. I hope you manage to get your head out of your butt and see what you're doing. I hope you realize you've shoved your head so far up your butt that it came out of your throat and that's why you're acting the way you are. I hope you have to eat your words and get everything you think you're going to get and more.

I am lucky to be considered "safe" in a blue state, but I am still so heartbroken over my friends who aren't considered safe and have to deal with this stuff head on. I wish things were different. If any of you happen to know me in real life, take this to heart. If you don't know me, know this anyway:

I am sorry for how people in America are acting right now. I am sorry that we have to live in a nation so broken and frustrating. In the middle of it all, you are loved, and I pray now that something good comes out of this; that we learn to love and be loved, we learn to be gracious and forgiving instead of angry and condemning. I pray we learn to be people over Americans, that them and us doesn't continue, and that we learn what the right thing is and how we are going to move forward. If you need someone to be an ear or a friend, I hope you find one. Whether that is someone in real life, someone on another site, someone here, or even myself.

You are not alone ❤️

[narcissisticpdcultureis]

(religious phrases outside of a religious context)

NPD culture is asking people "If someone is completely free of sin, and the other person works to overcome their sinful impulses every day of their life, who is more saintly?"

And people will regularly answer the 2nd one. Then turn around and demonize all narcissists as irredeemable and evil.

"Let he who is without sin cast the first stone" or something. idk I'm not religious.

-⚔️

.

[thenightling]

How to use Christianity to defend being Queer to other Christians:

Please note, I write this as someone with an honorary doctorate in Divinity from ULC. I was raised by a Catholic mother and Jewish stepfather and my chosen faith is Wiccan. However, much to the surprise of some, I actually have read The Bible. And I have read up on the history of The Bible. Now, here's how to use Christianity to defend Queer people against those who use The Bible to preach hate.

Let us begin.

First Matthew 7:1-6 tells us "Do not judge lest ye shall be judged." The most common interpretation of this is that no human as a right to say with certainty who is damned or not, nor should you attempt to judge the actions or personality of others or such judgements might be made against you. Similarly "Let he who is without sin cast the first stone." - John 8:7-11 is supposed to tell you that no one is perfect and anyone is capable of fault or failing.

Now let us discuss Leviticus. Leviticus is the part of The Bible where most anti-homosexual content is cited. But conveniently people forget that Leviticus also says it is a sin to eat pork, women should never cut their hair, men should never wear more than one type of fabric at the same time, you cannot grow more than one type of crop on your property, and finally.... Shrimp is an abomination.

Seems weird that people cherry pick the anti-homosexual content when Leviticus treats shrimp as a far worse offender. It's literally called an abomination.

"Love one another." John 13:34-35 was said as a new command. And it had no exceptions.

"Love thy neighbor."

Now let us break down the story of Sodom and Gomorrah. Everyone seems to forget there was a lot more going on in Sodom than homosexuality. There was murder, rape, inhospitality... (which is a big deal to Old World society).

The word "Sodomy" used to mean ANY sexual act that was not between a married couple with the man on top with the sole purpose of procreation. All pleasurable sexual acts were considered Sodomy until around the thirteenth century when the word's meaning changed to specifically mean homosexual activity between two men.

Now let is discuss King James. The King James Bible is the most widely used English language version of The Bible and almost every other English adaptation of The Bible is just using the King James Bible as the source.

Here's the thing though, The King James Bible is NOT an accurate translation. Shocking, I know. Think of it as like text being driven through Google translate, then translated to another language from that translation, and then that Translation is used to translate it again, and this is done over and over again about fifteen times.

Even "A man should not lay with another man as he would with a woman" was apparently once in Greek and was more accurately "A man should not lay with a boy." The two words were not the same. It was anti-pedophilia rather than anti-gay.

And The King James Bible isn't even a direct translation of a translation of a translation. Politics and social norms influenced what stories were changed, cut out, or even added.

King James had a "Secret" relationship with a male cousin that he kept in a private room attached to his own bedroom and treated like a consort or wife.

So the clergy of King James added extra anti-homosexual content to try to discourage the king and his lover. They considered his gender more of a problem than his being King James' cousin.

They also made edits and changes to make the Bible stories "More exciting" and "engaging" to keep King James and the general public interested in reading it. This was in the year 1610 through 1611. And it is still the most common English language version of The Bible.

History Channel's "Banned from The Bible" documentary series actually covers a LOT about what was changed.

And I give an argument that was once presented to me. Jesus said "I have come to free you from the law." Now many think this was in regard to Roman law but other interpretations suggest this was in regard to the Old Testament. It's part of why Christian practices differ so heavily from Jewish even though The Old Testament (in theory) should be identical to The Torah.

Spoiler: it's not. That's all it was supposed to be though, it's The Torah, that's why it's the OLD Testament.

There are actually over ten times as many condemnations against heterosexual relationships than gay ones in The Bible.

And now, finally, my favorite argument on why The Bible is not actually anti-queer.

First Corinthians 13:4-8. "Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5 It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6 Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres."

And "When all else is lost there is Faith, Hope, and Love. But the greatest of these is Love."

Love is described as the highest and purest virtue. Nothing that is actually of or for true and pure love (not just lust but love) can be perceived as a sin. By The Bible's own account, all love is Godly.

So unless you think all homosexuality is purely lust, you have to acknowledge the love as a virtue. Otherwise one could claim heterosexual love must always just be lust.

And you will notice the passage does not specify that it has to be platonic love. It's pretty blunt and to the point. Love is the greatest virtue.

[gremlinshatephilosophers]

My Sanctuary, You’re Holy to Me

Word count: 40,735

Rating: T

The Sister Daniel/Father Philip convent AU is complete! Thank you guys so much for reading, this has been a fun (and really long) one to write.

Full chapter list:

In the beginning…

Thou shalt not laugh at my mistakes

Does God Ever Get Lonely and Go Stargazing?

On Mondays in the Infirmary We Wear Anti-Theft Pink

Not Pitied, Not My People

What Happens to the Fool Will Happen to Me Also; Why then Have I Been So Very Wise?

Is It All Vanity?

A Small Rebellion

Don’t Give Anyone the Flu Unless Your Priest Sells Cocaine

Let He Who Is Without Sin Cast the First Stone

(Biblically Inaccurate) WiFi Angel

Your Beliefs are God’s Problem, Your Words are My Problem

When God Sends a Giant Worm, Next Time Be Grateful for the Gardening Help

Have You Tried Turning It Off and Back On Again?

Would You Follow Me Right Now If I Asked You?

Stay

You Found Me

Stained Glass Reflections

Song of Songs

God Forgives a Lot, But He Does Not Have Nearly Enough Forgiveness for You

Melt Your Headaches, Call It Home

[liaa--qb]

A SWEET SIN

[Aemond x Helaena ]

Warning : Dark aemond, toxic, obsession, smut, angst, manipulation, dub- con, explicit, incest, blood, violence

SUMMARY : Aemond spending some quality time alone in throne room after battle of rook's rest which was disrupted by his favourite family member.

Part 1 , Part 2

ao3 link

Note : this is my first helaemond fic, next chapter might be bit dark so be clear of warning☠️. (likes, share and comments would be appreciated❤️ )

PART 1

The clouds thundered, creating a beautiful sight for Aemond. Since his childhood, he had grown accustomed to these dark, thundery nights that he enjoyed more than anyone else, more than any person in his life except his beautiful mother. She used to pour her heart out to him, but now she was unwilling to even see his face. Aemond, her only son, who had stood out for her when no one else did. Despite being maimed, he never showed a hint of pain to spare his mother from feeling alone without support in the presence of strong boys, his half sister, and what he now considered not his own family but Rhaenyra's family.

The night was silent, dark, and heavily rainy. Raindrops thudded loudly on the surface, resembling sharp stones of water sent by heaven to wound the Red Keep and fill the cool air with chills. This environment refreshed Aemond; he loved the cold, heavy breeze, and nothing seduced him more than the loud thundering voice.

Alone in the main hall, everyone else sound asleep, Aemond faced his loneliness, a constant companion. After killing Luke, he had no desire to talk to anyone. The volcano inside his mind consumed him. His gaze shifted to the Iron Throne, scanning from its starting point to its end, devouring it's harsh and harmful aura. Not many found the throne comfortable.

His brother Aegon, despite attempting to hide it in front of others, expressed his discomfort through pain shouts and oily back massages after every session on the iron seat. Aemond knew Aegon would never adore the throne as he did, nor would he ever desire it. Aegon wouldn't understand the fun and satisfaction of sitting on it with the blood of enemies surrounding the throne, as Aemond did.

He moved toward the throne, casting his gaze upon it with thoughts as dark as the night and his heart. The brutal sting of his childhood continued to haunt him, the most painful being inflicted by his father who believed he lacked the courage to tame any dragon. His own father did not stand up for him, even as his half sister enjoyed an entire room of support. Aemond's face lit up with a smile as he recalled how he silenced those old, foul individuals, especially his father and cousins. Even his elder brother Aegon adjusted his tone when speaking to him after that night, a stark contrast to a lifetime of mockery where Aemond felt that Jace was more his brother's blood than he was.

He relished this solitary moment within the dark night. Currently, it was exclusively his, with no one intruding between him and the throne. If anyone dared to come between him and his desires, he would remove them—anyone or anything. As in the end, he believed he deserved this, if not for a lifetime, at least for once. What he deserved, he should take, regardless of others' approval.

Seated on the throne, he let out a long, contented sigh. Only the gods knew how satisfying and relaxing it was for him; the unyielding, needle-like layer of iron provided warmth instead of wounds. It was meant to be rough, precious and heavy. He embraced these wounds, as they felt like nothing more than a slight feather pinch after the rigorous training with Criston since his childhood. Scars were like permanent companions on his skin.

Leaning back and resting his head, he extended his legs on the throne's arm. "Screw Aegon. That idiot doesn't even realize what he was getting and wasted it. All his life, he got everything… everything I wanted. Now, maybe I should claim what I want." Darker and uglier thoughts clouded his mind. Closing his eyes for a few seconds, he was alerted by the sound of footsteps. However, he remained undisturbed because the light, slow, and short footsteps unmistakably belonged to none other than Helaena, his beautiful and angelic sister.

Yet, he couldn't comprehend why a pure soul like her was there at this time. She should be in his chambers.

No not his chamber, in her shared chamber with Aegon. His expression betrayed a fidgety discomfort at the thought of Aegon and Helaena sharing one room. But he wouldn't mind her joining him in his chambers if that's what she desired. Oh, just how if she wanted that ! Aemond thought, recalling the times when his 10-year-old self used to fight and argue with his mother. He questioned why Helaena was marrying Aegon, ranting about a hundred degrading things about Aegon while carefully concealing his own secret desire for Helaena. Confessing such feelings in front of others was shameful, and his heart shattered again upon witnessing their marriage.

However, his desire for Helaena never diminished. Aegon never cared a bit about her; it was always Aemond fulfilling every duty a husband should, and it still pricked him that she couldn't see his love. Never did she express any desire to break free from her miserable marriage with Aegon. Aemond believed he could take better care of her, far better than anyone else ever could.

"Aemond, what are you doing here, sitting like this?" Helaena asked with a lightly sad voice, her teary eyes intensifying Aemond's guilt for not taking proper care of her.

"It's my place, sister. I can do anything now," Aemond's eyes gazed at Helaena, who wore a sheer white dress, holding a cloth bundle in her hands.

"What's that, Helaena?" She was clearly angry with Aemond, evident in the rigid and questioning expression on her face, holding him accountable for everything that happened with her son. Nobody understood that the war had already begun when their miserable father died and Aegon was crowned. Helena turned and started replying lightly, "Nothing, Aemond. Just keeping this cursed precious thing where it should be," walking away from him.

"Wait sister!" At first, she didn't stop. Seeing this, Aemond's voice became sharp and dominant. "Stop! I said." He moved straight to Helena and grabbed her wrists tightly, revealing the crown under that cloth. He took it from her and held her waist and wrist. "It's mine, love. The only place it belongs is with me now"

Helaena's face showed fear, especially as she witnessed the darkness in Aemond's eyes. His sapphire eye, on the other hand, was even more intimidating. His grip on her waist and wrist tightened and toughened, making her certain that it was no longer her baby brother before her, but a devil filled with the desire for power. For the first time in her life, she was scared of him ,so much that she wished he would vanish or that she could run away from him as far as possible. It wasn't that she wasn't aware of this; she had sensed the same cruel and malevolent aura from him when he lost his eye at driftmark, saying, "I lost an eye but gained a dragon." At that moment, she felt the boy lost his innocence too, corruption growing within him. Today, it seemed like that devil feeding inside him, while growing up, had taken a complete form and was ready to burst out.

"Leave me, brother," she muttered while closing her eyes, hissing slowly with a voice filled with hesitation, "It's hurting. You are hurting me, Aemond." She didn't want to look at his face, but he wasn't backing off. Instead, his hold was growing tighter, pulling her closer.

"Open your eyes, Helaena. See me, my sweet beautiful sister" cooed Aemond with a taunt-filled attitude. She shook her head, pleading lightly, "Please leave me." "Why are you frightened, my sweet angel? Frightened of your little brother?" He grabbed her chin tightly, bringing her face closer to his. "Why, Helaena? Were you never frightened of Aegon? Then why now?" released her chin . "This crown is mine, this throne is mine, and… you, Helaena," he stopped, gazing at her trembling form, refraining from uttering his desire. She was so beautiful, like an angel sent from heaven itself. Even in this miserable state, she looked heavenly, her tears resembling little diamonds that only enhanced her allure.

"No more tears now, Helaena. Now you are my responsibility, and I will take care of you. Don't worry about Aegon, mother, or anything else." After a pause, his eyes darkened with desire. He gently embraced Helaena's cheeks, saying, "Just… be with me." Upon hearing this, Helaena shuddered, breaking free from his grasp with all her energy.

"Disgusting! You are disgusting. Do you know what you are saying?" said Helaena, astonishment and anger evident on her teary face. Aemond, with a sly smile, replied, "I know what I am saying, angel. I think you must understand and obey what I say." With that, he grabbed her wrists and brought her into his arms with full force. His hand grazed her soft silver hair locks, while the other held her tightly to his chest. He declared, "Yes, from now onwards, you are going to listen and obey only me. In fact, you all are going to obey me. I am the Prince Regent now and it's not only the crown or throne that I want Helaena."

Helaena's energy drained in his tight and rough arms as she feared the realization of what he was saying. She stammered, "No… no, Aemond. I am your sister, your queen. I am already married to Aegon, your brother, our brother. You are insane. It's a sin, and it's not going to happen. Now, leave me," while struggling against his grips with all the small energy that allowed her tiny frame to resist her brother, who was way taller than her.

He chuckled wickedly, "You are so sweet, Helaena, so pure. You know, the queen title you are throwing at me is only because of Aegon, and that Aegon is now nothing but a walking, living corpse. The maester said he doesn't even have a chance of proper recovery, cannot produce any heir. If he dies, then you would be nothing but his widow with no power... but you can maintain your power by standing with me, obeying me, and being mine. Marry me, Helaena!"

Helaena remained shocked, unable to comprehend her little protective brother's disturbing transformation. "Aemond, you are not in the right state of mind. Think clearly and, for the Gods' sake, fear at least. The sin you are talking about should never happen, and you will have a queen that will be Floris," she said, still struggling to free herself from his grasp.

Anger flooded Aemond's face, evident in his tone. "I think you are the one who needs to understand Hel that I desired you all these years, way before your marriage with our pathetic Aegon," he added, his eyes filled with rage and a slight hint of tears. "Everything I wanted, everything I deserved, was never given to me. Even if I earned it, it was forcefully taken from me , father's love, a dragon, friends, a mother who should be proud of me, this crown, this throne, and you. But now, I know very well how to claim whatever I need and desire, and I will take that. You should be with me, Helaena, not Aegon. He was never worthy of you. I will give you everything you want; name it, and I will place it at your feet, the same way I brought Meley's head for you. I will kill anyone for you. Just say it !" It sounded more like a mixture of a demand and a plea.

"Bring Jaehaerys back, can you? Bring all that peace back ? And can you bring Luke back? You cannot, right… You cannot claim nature itself, Aemond" Helaena hissed bitterly at him. He paused, and she realized that his rage was clouding him; his body itself was shivering.

His hold on her loosened up for a bit, but it only scared her more. To Helaena, Aemond's silence in anger was more dangerous. The moment she tried to move away from him, his hands grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head quickly towards him. "Listen to me, Helaena. I love you a lot, and I do care for you always, but there is a limit to my patience. You know that really well, my sweet sister, don't you? I am not that little boy anymore," he whispered in her ear after briefly smelling her silver hair, as if it were the most enchanting scent. He added, "You want your son back, right? I want that too, Helaena. I feel your anger, but Aegon cannot provide you any child now." He tilted his head, looking at Helaena, who was just frightened. "I will give you your son, Helaena. I promise, our son," he declared, then kissed her cheek and earlobe.

"Say it. You love me, Helaena. Say you want me as your husband as well," he said with a velvety smooth voice and an irritated smile, but his grip on her became more hard and brutal.

Helaena shook her head, fear and anger in her eyes. "Don't do this, Aemond. I'm pleading you." "Say it, Helaena. Say that you love me as well," he ignored her pleas and tension as if nothing wrong were happening.

Helaena was terrified and tried her best to struggle and fight, attempting to free herself. "Aemond! I beg you, please leave me. Please brother, please," she cried. However, she knew it would not help her; instead, it was draining what little energy she had even more.

"Yes, I would very much love to see you beg, but not like this, Helaena. Now, say it," Aemond insisted.

Helaena stopped struggling and looked at him as if she were completely defeated. "Say it, Helaena. I am waiting, and it would only cause problems for you, my lovely sister."

She looked directly into his eyes. "You know, Aemond, you and Aegon have no difference. You are just like him. The truth is, you are much more dangerous than he ever was. In reality, Aegon just did those things without even realizing the consequences they could have been. He never took the lives and pain of others seriously and even himself. He was just a pawn dancing to all your thoughts. You were the main problem, Aemond. Always!" her tone becoming more confident " You were the one obsessed with bloodbath and killing anyone who came in your way. You tried to hide this a lot, but now everyone can see your inner evil self, brother. Even our mother can see it too. Now, I genuinely feel that Luke's death and Aegon's coronation were just excuses for you. You wanted to feed your inner animal that was hungry for revenge and power since childhood," she spat at his face, her mind fueled by the last remnants of determination.

Silence was all coming from Aemond and shock on his face from hearing her answer was visible. She continued, "Now what are you going to do, Aemond? Murder Aegon, definitely. Correct? I bet you were even thinking about this. Then you would kill our mother too if she opposes you, right?" Suddenly, a hard hit on her cheeks made her fall to the floor, her lips bruised and bleeding a little from his slap.

Aemond bent down to her level and grabbed her chin more brutally, causing her lips to bleed even more. "What… what were you saying about me, that I would kill my mother? How dare you ?" Aemond's tone was angry and terrifying, and Helaena was nothing but a crying mess on the floor.

"Oh Helaena, I sure wanted to kill Aegon. If I genuinely wanted to murder him, I would have done it way before. I've murdered him countless times in my head, but I would never do it, even if he deserved it. That rascal is my brother, sadly my own blood. I love Daeron and always admired him more than Aegon. You know, even the gentle soul like him cursed to me that I should have killed Aegon way before, and the same with Criston. Criston always wanted me to hold the power, but still, I never did and never would," he declared. Thunders and lightning outside, shining through the hall window, falling on Aemond's face, made him even scarier, resembling a devil from the Seven Hells taking human form. Helaena braced herself for another possible physical harm and just closed her eyes, shivering and praying to all her gods.

"Gods are not going to come for you, my sweet. Gods were never there for you; only I was," his voice softened again to her surprise. He gently grabbed her cheeks, and something in his tone made Helaena tremble less, calming her breath. He continued, keeping his forehead against hers, brushing her lips gently with his and his nose against hers while whispering sweetly, "Even now, gods would not save you. Only I can save you now, my love. But you hurt me, Helaena. You hurt me by showing what you clearly think of me. You were the last person I was expecting this from. How can you be so cruel to your little brother "

She slowly opened her eyes, her breath becoming heavy under this close, gentle, intimate touch of Aemond. She had never experienced this type of touch from any man; Aegon never cared about her, and the last time Jace was gentle, but only in a friendly way, nothing more. So this gentle touch from her little brother always melted her heart, even if she wanted to deny that situation. Her breaths were becoming much calmer but more anticipatory now.

Looking at Helaena's lips for a brief second, Aemond had a softness in his eyes. "I didn't want to do that, Helaena. I would never… I am not guilty of wanting everything I love, but you are the only desire I am guilty of," he said gently while grazing her lips with his and then slowly licking the full trail of blood from her lips, falling to her chin.

"I always loved you, Hel. You don't even have any idea how much I want you," he murmured while kissing her lips and jawline, licking every trace of her blood. The way he was enjoying it looked like it was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted.

Helaena should run away from him right now or slap him, hurt him, take his other eye out, but her body was betraying her, as if it just wanted to stay with him, under his warmth. She looked at his face and his eye, filled with love. The sapphire in the other eye looked so beautiful. A sudden desire in her wanted to touch it and feel his pain. "Helaena, are you listening to me? Did you never feel any emotion towards me? Did you never like me or even for once realize how badly I was in love with you?" asked Aemond, his eyes filled with sadness and rage, as if he were on the verge of tears.

At that moment, she just remembered her little brother, the Aemond who was just a pretty angry little boy, always stuck to her mother's cloth, who always helped her, listened to her, and many times stood against Aegon when he made fun of her. Where was that boy gone? No matter how much shyness and obedience he showed, Aemond had always found ways to get the things he wanted since childhood. She remembered how, on her 14th nameday, a servant boy who was once close to Jace dropped hot drink on her dress. Aemond almost beat him to death until it became a huge problem for their mother. Then Aemond asked Criston for help to clear this matter, promising him triple times the training as punishment. Also, when he was 7, he wanted a toy sword that was a gift given to Aegon by their mother and the Hightower family. He used to do all his and both Aegon's work, clean up all their mess, never spreading a single bit of dirt like other kids to impress their mother. But he never ate anything, making himself ill for a week, which worried their mother. Later, he got one too, a sword even better than Aegon's.

She moved her fingers to the sapphire in his eye, gliding gently like feathers on that cold stone, and slowly traced her finger on his face, grazing his scar. At that moment, the tension to fight the inner desire was rising high between them. No one spoke a single word for a moment; there was only the sound of their breathings and nothing more. Helaena was lost in her own old thoughts while grazing his scar when Aemond grabbed her hand and kissed her fingers as if he would die if he didn't.

"Aemond," a sheer sigh escaped from her lips. Aemond grabbed her face with all his force, as if she were some precious thing that someone would immediately take away from him. "Please, Helaena, give me a chance. I would give you everything more than anyone else would ever give. Would you not give me a single chance?" Helaena couldn't decide whether he was begging or demanding her love; it was a rare occasion to see Aemond Targaryen pleading, begging, or crying.

"Say it, Helaena. You do love me, right?" He jumped, pleading like a little child who just wants a new piece of jewellery or some new toy. His eyes filled with plead and lust, trailing sharp kisses on her cheeks, nose, and eyes. "Say it."

Should she? Should she accept him? Thought Helaena, for a moment realizing where all her shame had gone. She was fighting with him just minutes before, now sitting still like his doll, letting him do or play with her however he wants. It was wrong of her, wrong of both of them to behave like this, especially when her husband was struggling to even breathe properly. Mother would never be proud; it went against her faith and her religion.

Or maybe… he is right. It would be so cruel of her to reject what his little brother wants. After all, he was there for her all these times. Can she not support him even for once? And he has suffered so much. "What would people say, Aemond? What would our family say? I am married to Aegon?" Helaena whimpered, melting under his warm frame. Aemond stopped and, meeting her eyes, smirked. "Don't need to worry about them. No one should lay a finger on you. They have to do what I say, and we are Targaryens, Helaena. Your marriage to Aegon was already a one-day poignant drama for me, nothing more. We are doing nothing wrong. I will take you in our Valyrian tradition, make you mine," he said looking at her intently, demanding an answer or any gesture of approval, never releasing the hold of her face.

In a sudden moment, he kissed her so hard, like the world was ending, not giving her a proper second to breathe, devouring her lips. His sudden painful bite made Helaena tremble with a lazy moan and, parted for a second to breathe, he whispered, "fuck it Hel, I am going to marry you right now." After a brief silence, Helaena gave a long tiring sigh resting her head on his shoulder "you are so stubborn Aemond" she said, looking at him with dizziness taking over