dominusumbrae

[dominusumbrae]

Met two people recently. Don’t really know what to make of it yet. Bit of a mess, honestly. I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this before…or been treated this way, for that matter. They’ve shown me things, taught me things, I never would’ve imagined in all my thirty-some years of stumbling through this so-called life. Odd times we live in, eh? Turns out Canadians are menaces. Who would've guessed?

[dominusumbrae]

Lore Dump / Info for my Faith Au

The ‘Corpus Damnatur’ AU

(Also kind of an intro post…? This AU is one i’ll be using for this account 🫶)

‘Corpus Damnatur’ translates roughly to ‘The body is damned’ in Latin.

This isn’t going to be entirely lore accurate to the game, but initially it follows the canon / ‘good’ ending of Faith up until the apartment fight between Alu/Lisa and John.

I’ll put content warnings here for: Mental Health related topics (such as suicide, self harming, etc), Cannibalism, General Horror themes, Death, Substance Abuse(?)

If that doesn’t bother you, feel free to continue reading!

This is not at all finished and will definitely be edited and changed over time!

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(Timeline)

After everything that happens in the previous chapters (Amy, Michael, The church, etc), John is emotionally and physically drained by the time he reaches Lisa’s apartment. Obviously in canon it depends what you do but your supposed to not let Alu possess John / kill Lisa to get the good / canon ending, in this AU the complete opposite happens. John attempts the rite, but his faith (in himself and God) falters. Alu seizes the moment and overtakes John’s body, immediately attacking Lisa. John fights for control over his body leaving Lisa severely injured and in critical condition but alive. When John does finally come into his own body he realises he’s staring down at Lisa’s motionless body, Alu once again takes that moment to start whispering to John: “Look what you did. You fought me, and she paid the price.” So from that part in the story, John fully believes that Lisa died and that he had killed her. After these events, John continues with the canon ending and attempts to stop Gary. It does not work entirely in his favour and he ends up back in the psychiatric hospital, this time it’s nearly a full year until he gets out. However, he had managed to successfully push the profane sabbath back.

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(After)

From the fight onward, John essentially becomes Alu’s unwilling host.

- Possession comes in waves, often when John is tired or emotionally vulnerable. It’s usually when he is weakest especially in his faith.

- Even when Alu isn’t possessing him, he hears his voice quite frequently. Alu’s voice is there usually to tempt or taunt John.

- Alu (so far) has never been fully expelled from John’s body since the possession par from the few times Alu left willingly (often only for short amounts of time, often during his psychiatric stays.) No amount of holy water, prayers or exorcisms have helped. It’s gone beyond simple possession, the way i’d describe it is a sort of parasitic coexistence.

- Alu is not omnipresent, he comes and goes as he wishes. This keeps John on his toes a lot, always dreading the demons return.

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(Psychiatric Ward)

This gets its own entire section because I (unironically) wrote quite a bit for it

- Alu temporarily retreats, finding himself incredibly bored by the constant monitoring and sterile environment.

- John is misdiagnosed. Whilst the doctors did note his schizophrenia, they ignored every other problem he has (noted somewhere else in this post). John was medicated into a stupor, ignored, and mocked whenever he mentioned demonic influences/possession.

- Despite what he endured whilst there, John considers going back. It’s a prison to him but he at least knows that he’s somewhat safe there, unlike the outside world where Alu has constant access to him.

- Whilst there, John wrote feverishly in journals provided by the staff. Non of it makes sense unless held up to a mirror, he’d written backwards. (A reference to the mirror demon which often also plagues him in this AU)

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(Appearance)

John’s appearance is one of the most recognisable signs that he has been possessed (as Alu has gotten rather good at mimicking John’s mannerisms and ways of speaking).

When possessed, John’s appearance changes:

- His eyes shift into something that resembles goat eyes

- All of his teeth sharpen (most prominently his canines)

- His fingernails blacken and become claw-like

- Occasionally, his body will warp and contort into something vaguely represents a beast (legs bending backward, spine cracking/protruding, neck lengthening)

When not possessed, his appearance does occasionally differ:

- A muzzle is usually worn (when Alu’s influence is heightened or if he’s around people aware of what Alu is doing to him), it’s his only true defence against what Alu makes him do. He wears it to keep others safe from himself.

- Blood somehow always finds its way onto him whether it’s the remnants of an animal (or worse) or simply his own.

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(Outside of Possession)

Outside of Alu’s influence, John is a troubled man. He consistently neglects his mental health problems under the impression that if he ignores them they’ll magically fix themselves (not a good mindset to have, might I add). To combat his problems, John puts on a front especially at Church (which he still attends as much as physically possible, Alu has less of a chokehold on him there). He tries his best to help those in need and aid those who reach out to him, he wouldn’t deny someone help unless he physically couldn’t.

The main problems John deals with (outside of Alu) are:

- Major Depressive Disorder

- Suicidal Ideation (passive and active)

- Chronic Anxiety (especially social)

- Schizoaffective Disorder (hallucinations, disorganised thoughts, paranoia)

Alu has not caused these problems, but his presence often amplifies them leading John to strictly blame him for them and argue that he is the cause of them. John also uses this as an excuse as to not return to the psychiatric ward despite being sent back over twice prior to his first admission. How he keeps getting out is an absolute mystery to everyone (including himself, he theorises it’s Alu’s doings.)

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(Additional Info)

- Father Garcia and John still have contact but their relationship is very strained due to John believing he had killed Lisa and Garcia not being there for him.

- John has a strong passion for knitting. He’s a dedicated member of a local knitting group made up of five older ladies, himself, and a younger member of his congregation named Grimm. He first spoke with Grimm after a Sunday service, learning they were passionate about art, photography, and knitting. They had admitted they’d drawn him before, John was deeply flattered by the gesture. Grimm later invited him to join their knitting group, and John has been attending ever since. He finds the act of knitting incredibly soothing, the steady rhythm of it helps quiet his mind and gives him something else to focus on. He often knits gifts for the younger children in his congregation, never asking for anything in return. He enjoys crafting small yarn dolls of saints, Jesus, and the Virgin Mary.

- As well as being an avid knitter, he is also a big fan of birdwatching and photography! He often looks out for birds that remind him of Ezriel as well as spends time with Grimm trying to find good spots to take photos and watch the birds. He thoroughly enjoys this and sometimes (usually when Alu’s been acting up) sits by the windows for hours in hopes of seeing pretty birds fly overhead.

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(Art)

Here is art that either I or others have done! If the art was created by another person, their username will be in the ALT description!

[dominusumbrae]

I don't know who I'm supposed to be.

Some days I wear the name like armor. Other days, it burns.

I look in the mirror and don’t recognize the person staring back, but I still mourn who used to live there.

It's strange, isn't it?

To grieve something you're trying to let go of.

To fight for a self you’re not even sure you’re allowed to be.

I’m tired. Just tired of not fitting anywhere.

Of trying to be holy, and human, and something in between.

I'm still here, I think. I just wish I knew who was here with me.

[dominusumbrae]

“OH FUCK OFF! I AM NOT A CAT.

I’m on my way.”

YES I AM MAD I WANT THOSE TWINKS BIBLICALLY ONG

You need to be mentally ill. Beyond salvation. Can you do this? Also, work on making really sad eyes. Consider looking through windows as a hobby. Theyll love you.

[dominusumbrae]

“I AM NOT A FUCKING CAT, ASTAROTH.”

Despite that, he still perked uo at the noise.

YES I AM MAD I WANT THOSE TWINKS BIBLICALLY ONG

You need to be mentally ill. Beyond salvation. Can you do this? Also, work on making really sad eyes. Consider looking through windows as a hobby. Theyll love you.

[dominusumbrae]

“So…you want me to leave you alone, hm?”

YES I AM MAD I WANT THOSE TWINKS BIBLICALLY ONG

You need to be mentally ill. Beyond salvation. Can you do this? Also, work on making really sad eyes. Consider looking through windows as a hobby. Theyll love you.

[dominusumbrae]

“I don’t think so, I know so. You’re welcome! I believe I’m doing a good job.”

YES I AM MAD I WANT THOSE TWINKS BIBLICALLY ONG

You need to be mentally ill. Beyond salvation. Can you do this? Also, work on making really sad eyes. Consider looking through windows as a hobby. Theyll love you.

[dominusumbrae]

“…Who said I liked you???”

YES I AM MAD I WANT THOSE TWINKS BIBLICALLY ONG

You need to be mentally ill. Beyond salvation. Can you do this? Also, work on making really sad eyes. Consider looking through windows as a hobby. Theyll love you.

[dominusumbrae]

“What…exactly are you implying with this, Astaroth?”

YES I AM MAD I WANT THOSE TWINKS BIBLICALLY ONG

You need to be mentally ill. Beyond salvation. Can you do this? Also, work on making really sad eyes. Consider looking through windows as a hobby. Theyll love you.

[dominusumbrae]

Thomas let out a breathless little laugh, cocky at first like he had the upper hand…right up until Gary shoved him against the tree. His back hit bark and the world spun slightly, his heels slipping in the dirt as he was pinned. And just like that, all that teasing bravado crumbled. His face went scarlet.

"Holy shit," he whispered, wide eyed, staring at Gary like he’d just been struck by lightning. His lipstick was already smudged from earlier kisses, a faint red stain trailing down the side of Gary’s jaw- he had been trying to mark him up a bit. Now, though, his mouth hung open, lips swollen, chest rising and falling quickly.

“I-I mean it,” he stammered, voice trembling despite the grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. “I really fucking mean it, Gary.”

That name…he never used it. Not anymore. It slipped out before he could catch it. He tried to mask it with another cocky little smile, fingers pawing weakly at the collar of Gary’s sweater. “You gonna ruin me or what?” he teased, breath hot as he leaned up to try and kiss him, messy and eager. “Or are you just gonna keep staring at me like that?”

He gasped when Gary’s hand grazed over the seals on his skin. His whole body arched like he’d been shocked, a soft whimper catching in his throat. “F-fuck,” he choked, “They’re sensitive, you- fuck you-”

His hands scrabbled for something to hold onto- Gary’s arms, his sweater, anything. His knees felt like jelly, his mouth was parted in a needy little whine. “Please,” he begged, whispering it against Gary’s neck now. “C’mon, Astaroth, give me your worst. Please- be cruel. I want it.”

Even now, as he practically melted under him, Thomas tried to flash a smirk, though it wobbled. “Gonna keep me begging, huh? You bastard…” His voice cracked into a whine.

Thomas hadn’t replied to the last message- he’d been far too busy deciding what to wear. And by God, had he committed.

Heels- tall ones, as if his 6’2” frame needed any help. A black leather skirt hugging his hips, sheer pantyhose that caught the light just right, a crisp blouse tucked beneath a sleek black tie, and just enough dramatic accessories to toe the line between priest’s worst nightmare and runway menace. Hell, he’d even done his makeup. Full glam. All for the bit, of course.

Sure, he was moodier these days…sharper edges, colder shoulders, his awful glares- but evidently his awful sense of humor had survived the apocalypse. He’d walked here in those damn heels, through the woods no less. His knees ached. His ankles screamed. And yet, as he stood at the door, he looked immaculate.

He hated that he’d actually tried to look good for a demon. Astaroth, of all things. The thought made him cringe internally- but not enough to stop.

Scarred knuckles to wood, he tapped at the door and called out in that sing songy voice of his.

“Astaroth~?”

" Goodness," comes from inside. " Did you beat the postman to me?" Gary shuffles around inside before opening the door, his usual smug expression on. " If I find him dead, you k-"

Oh. That's...

Not what he expected. He visibly eyes up Thomas once behind his shades. Pauses a moment, likely blinking. Eyes him up again. And only then does the red seep into his face. (Usually, he does a much better job of hiding this. Curse human instinct.)

" Thh- oh my. Tom!" He coughs a bit, trying to hide both the nickname and how he's fumbling on his words. " Thomas. You, ah, certainly showed me up. I didn't think... I had no clue you owned anything th... well, just." He makes a vague gesture to all of him. " Wow! I didn't... know... you. Owned makeup?"

Yes. Yes, that's the words he means to say, because if he had to dwell on the fact that he found this attractive, and HEAVEN FORBID HE FUCKING SAID IT, he'd probably stab out his third eye- which has unhelpfully been a tattoo for the past week, and shows NO signs of returning.

He steps out of the cabin proper, adjusting his clothes as he does. It looks like he did go out of his way not to look terrible- though it's his usual red sweater and black blazer combination that he loves. At least he put in more effort- he's got red sunglasses this time, and a broad black hat.

They look like they're emos on their way to Beelzefest. He wouldn't have it any other way.

" You walked quite far out, you know. Are you expecting me to carry you out of these woods?"

[dominusumbrae]

As soon as Gary turned around, Tom blinked- then turned a rather impressive shade of red. Oh… He actually listened! For a second, he just stared, lips parting in surprise. He hadn’t really expected him to take the bait, let alone turn around like that. Not that he was complaining.

A slow grin crept across his face.

“Well, aren’t you obedient,” he purred, wasting no time slinking forward again to press kiss after kiss along Gary’s jaw, deliberately dragging his lips against stubble like he wanted to savour the feeling. One kiss landed just beneath the man’s ear, another trailed down the side of his neck. “You sure you know what you’re agreeing to, Astaroth?” he whispered with mock innocence, already painting the poor man’s skin in smudged lipstick.

And he loved it.

Tom’s hands were already wandering, fingertips brushing down Gary’s arm with a kind of reverence he tried to hide behind his usual theatrics. He leaned in closer again, pressing his lips right to his ear now. His voice dropped lower, sultry and just a touch breathlessness,

“I want you.”

His hand (already trembling just enough to betray his ‘dominant’ persona) reached up to cradle Gary’s cheek again, thumb grazing the edge of his mouth. “Or should I say I need you? Might be a little more accurate…” he mused, nose brushing his skin. “I mean, come on Mr Miller, you turned around so fast…what’s a poor priest supposed to think?”

He was definitely being bold. But beneath the teasing was something much softer. He was watching Gary’s expression like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the mortal realm. That flush in Gary’s face, the way he’d turned so damn fast…it lit something up in Tom he didn’t know how to name. So instead, he kissed him again.

“…Wanna come back to bed, handsome?” His voice dripped with playful ambiguity, toeing the line between jest and sincerity. Whether he truly meant it or was just teasing- well, that was for Gary to decide. Tom, of course, relished in the mystery. There was nothing he loved more than being impossibly vague and watching the other man try to piece him together.

Thomas hadn’t replied to the last message- he’d been far too busy deciding what to wear. And by God, had he committed.

Heels- tall ones, as if his 6’2” frame needed any help. A black leather skirt hugging his hips, sheer pantyhose that caught the light just right, a crisp blouse tucked beneath a sleek black tie, and just enough dramatic accessories to toe the line between priest’s worst nightmare and runway menace. Hell, he’d even done his makeup. Full glam. All for the bit, of course.

Sure, he was moodier these days…sharper edges, colder shoulders, his awful glares- but evidently his awful sense of humor had survived the apocalypse. He’d walked here in those damn heels, through the woods no less. His knees ached. His ankles screamed. And yet, as he stood at the door, he looked immaculate.

He hated that he’d actually tried to look good for a demon. Astaroth, of all things. The thought made him cringe internally- but not enough to stop.

Scarred knuckles to wood, he tapped at the door and called out in that sing songy voice of his.

“Astaroth~?”

" Goodness," comes from inside. " Did you beat the postman to me?" Gary shuffles around inside before opening the door, his usual smug expression on. " If I find him dead, you k-"

Oh. That's...

Not what he expected. He visibly eyes up Thomas once behind his shades. Pauses a moment, likely blinking. Eyes him up again. And only then does the red seep into his face. (Usually, he does a much better job of hiding this. Curse human instinct.)

" Thh- oh my. Tom!" He coughs a bit, trying to hide both the nickname and how he's fumbling on his words. " Thomas. You, ah, certainly showed me up. I didn't think... I had no clue you owned anything th... well, just." He makes a vague gesture to all of him. " Wow! I didn't... know... you. Owned makeup?"

Yes. Yes, that's the words he means to say, because if he had to dwell on the fact that he found this attractive, and HEAVEN FORBID HE FUCKING SAID IT, he'd probably stab out his third eye- which has unhelpfully been a tattoo for the past week, and shows NO signs of returning.

He steps out of the cabin proper, adjusting his clothes as he does. It looks like he did go out of his way not to look terrible- though it's his usual red sweater and black blazer combination that he loves. At least he put in more effort- he's got red sunglasses this time, and a broad black hat.

They look like they're emos on their way to Beelzefest. He wouldn't have it any other way.

" You walked quite far out, you know. Are you expecting me to carry you out of these woods?"

[dominusumbrae]

The flush rising on Gary’s cheeks only made Tom grin wider, his expression equal parts wicked and fond.

“Oh, you really don’t want to know the things rattling around in my head right now,” he murmured, voice dripping with honeyed mischief.

He leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss to Gary’s jawline, then another just below his ear, leaving behind the faintest trace of lipstick. When he pulled back, Tom looked far too pleased with himself.

“We could head out, go about our day like saints…” he said lightly, fingers drifting from Gary’s jaw down the line of his chest. “Or…”

His eyes flicked up, dark with suggestion and something far softer underneath.

“…we could turn back.” His voice dropped into a purr. “I have so many thoughts, my dear.”

He meant it playfully (at least on the surface) but the idea of actually acting on those thoughts made his stomach twist, not with dread but nerves. Tom could flirt all day, could press kisses to Gary’s skin and tease him with every pet name in the book- but deep down, he never truly believed Gary wanted him back. Not in the way he wanted him, at least.

He told himself it was just a game. That Gary probably thought he was joking. That if he pretended not to mean it, he could keep stealing those moments, those touches, those looks- without risking anything real.

But the truth? He was hopelessly, stupidly head over heels.

Still, he covered it with a smirk as his hand hovered over Gary’s chest, eyes searching his.

“So…” he said, voice softer. “Take your pick, darling.”

Thomas hadn’t replied to the last message- he’d been far too busy deciding what to wear. And by God, had he committed.

Heels- tall ones, as if his 6’2” frame needed any help. A black leather skirt hugging his hips, sheer pantyhose that caught the light just right, a crisp blouse tucked beneath a sleek black tie, and just enough dramatic accessories to toe the line between priest’s worst nightmare and runway menace. Hell, he’d even done his makeup. Full glam. All for the bit, of course.

Sure, he was moodier these days…sharper edges, colder shoulders, his awful glares- but evidently his awful sense of humor had survived the apocalypse. He’d walked here in those damn heels, through the woods no less. His knees ached. His ankles screamed. And yet, as he stood at the door, he looked immaculate.

He hated that he’d actually tried to look good for a demon. Astaroth, of all things. The thought made him cringe internally- but not enough to stop.

Scarred knuckles to wood, he tapped at the door and called out in that sing songy voice of his.

“Astaroth~?”

" Goodness," comes from inside. " Did you beat the postman to me?" Gary shuffles around inside before opening the door, his usual smug expression on. " If I find him dead, you k-"

Oh. That's...

Not what he expected. He visibly eyes up Thomas once behind his shades. Pauses a moment, likely blinking. Eyes him up again. And only then does the red seep into his face. (Usually, he does a much better job of hiding this. Curse human instinct.)

" Thh- oh my. Tom!" He coughs a bit, trying to hide both the nickname and how he's fumbling on his words. " Thomas. You, ah, certainly showed me up. I didn't think... I had no clue you owned anything th... well, just." He makes a vague gesture to all of him. " Wow! I didn't... know... you. Owned makeup?"

Yes. Yes, that's the words he means to say, because if he had to dwell on the fact that he found this attractive, and HEAVEN FORBID HE FUCKING SAID IT, he'd probably stab out his third eye- which has unhelpfully been a tattoo for the past week, and shows NO signs of returning.

He steps out of the cabin proper, adjusting his clothes as he does. It looks like he did go out of his way not to look terrible- though it's his usual red sweater and black blazer combination that he loves. At least he put in more effort- he's got red sunglasses this time, and a broad black hat.

They look like they're emos on their way to Beelzefest. He wouldn't have it any other way.

" You walked quite far out, you know. Are you expecting me to carry you out of these woods?"

[dominusumbrae]

Thomas listened quietly, his smirk fading into something gentler as Gary spoke. He didn't interrupt, didn't tease like he usually might. Instead, he just…listened. Really listened.

There was something in Gary’s voice- something vulnerable beneath all the bravado and brimstone…that made Thomas’s chest ache. And while Gary went on, he let himself drop the performance for once. He felt like John again…briefly.

Most days, Thomas kept up a front. Sarcastic. Sharp tongued. Always trying to stay one step ahead of his own feelings. But beneath it all, he was a shattered thing, cracked straight down the center. And no amount of eyeliner or lace or biting jokes could hide what he saw in the mirror at night.

Guilt had burrowed deep into him. He used to be God’s, once. A man of the cloth. A priest who believed, truly believed, even when it hurt him so deeply. He remembered the weight of the collar around his neck, the hollow ache of prayers unanswered, the terrible moment he realized the Church had never protected him, only used him.

And now? Now he worked with demons. Slept in their arms. Spoke blasphemous scripture like it was second nature. He called himself a priest still, but certainly not of any holy order. The carvings on his body ached sometimes, cruel reminders of what he'd become, what he'd chosen when all other choices had been burned away.

Thomas sighed quietly, reaching out to gently brush a hand over Gary’s cheek again. He flashed him a slightly toothy grin, “You know…the ground does feel better. I feel free.”

Then, with something softer in his gaze, he pressed a quick kiss to the side of Gary’s nose.

“Not to sound all tender and stuff, but calm down, yeah?” His voice was gentle. “Don’t get yourself so worked up.”

A pause. His smile slowly twisted into something more wicked, more familiar.

“…Though, if you really need a distraction…”

His fingers curled lightly beneath Gary’s chin, coaxing his gaze over to him.

“I could help with that.”

Thomas hadn’t replied to the last message- he’d been far too busy deciding what to wear. And by God, had he committed.

Heels- tall ones, as if his 6’2” frame needed any help. A black leather skirt hugging his hips, sheer pantyhose that caught the light just right, a crisp blouse tucked beneath a sleek black tie, and just enough dramatic accessories to toe the line between priest’s worst nightmare and runway menace. Hell, he’d even done his makeup. Full glam. All for the bit, of course.

Sure, he was moodier these days…sharper edges, colder shoulders, his awful glares- but evidently his awful sense of humor had survived the apocalypse. He’d walked here in those damn heels, through the woods no less. His knees ached. His ankles screamed. And yet, as he stood at the door, he looked immaculate.

He hated that he’d actually tried to look good for a demon. Astaroth, of all things. The thought made him cringe internally- but not enough to stop.

Scarred knuckles to wood, he tapped at the door and called out in that sing songy voice of his.

“Astaroth~?”

" Goodness," comes from inside. " Did you beat the postman to me?" Gary shuffles around inside before opening the door, his usual smug expression on. " If I find him dead, you k-"

Oh. That's...

Not what he expected. He visibly eyes up Thomas once behind his shades. Pauses a moment, likely blinking. Eyes him up again. And only then does the red seep into his face. (Usually, he does a much better job of hiding this. Curse human instinct.)

" Thh- oh my. Tom!" He coughs a bit, trying to hide both the nickname and how he's fumbling on his words. " Thomas. You, ah, certainly showed me up. I didn't think... I had no clue you owned anything th... well, just." He makes a vague gesture to all of him. " Wow! I didn't... know... you. Owned makeup?"

Yes. Yes, that's the words he means to say, because if he had to dwell on the fact that he found this attractive, and HEAVEN FORBID HE FUCKING SAID IT, he'd probably stab out his third eye- which has unhelpfully been a tattoo for the past week, and shows NO signs of returning.

He steps out of the cabin proper, adjusting his clothes as he does. It looks like he did go out of his way not to look terrible- though it's his usual red sweater and black blazer combination that he loves. At least he put in more effort- he's got red sunglasses this time, and a broad black hat.

They look like they're emos on their way to Beelzefest. He wouldn't have it any other way.

" You walked quite far out, you know. Are you expecting me to carry you out of these woods?"

[dominusumbrae]

A wicked smile curled across Thomas’s lips every time Gary blushed. There was something about it, something deliciously wrong, that made his pulse quicken. Seeing a demon flustered because of him? Oh, it did wicked things to his ego.

Maybe it was the illusion of control. Maybe it was just the thrill of knowing he could tempt even the tempter. Either way, it made him feel powerful…in a way that almost made him forget how easily he could be undone himself. Not that anyone needed to mention how quickly he could go from teasing to trembling. Not yet, anyway.

“You’d really do that just for me?” he drawled, voice silky and soft. His grin softened for a moment…it was almost sincere, almost kind. But it still shimmered with something impish, something hungry. “You’re sweet sometimes, you know that? For a filthy little demon.”

The words came out too easily. He was getting comfortable in this dance, too comfortable. And yet beneath his purring tone and playful eyes, something else twisted inside him- something sour and sacred. The guilt never fully left.

“You make it so hard to be good,” he added under his breath, half in jest, half confession. He glanced away for just a second, as if avoiding the eyes of a God he no longer quite relied on. “I was supposed to be better than this.”

Still, Thomas lingered in the moment like it gave him purpose. There were days he missed who he used to be…when life felt simpler, when salvation still felt possible. But now? Now, with Gary all flustered and at his mercy, Thomas didn’t feel like the one who needed saving. Not yet.

Thomas hadn’t replied to the last message- he’d been far too busy deciding what to wear. And by God, had he committed.

Heels- tall ones, as if his 6’2” frame needed any help. A black leather skirt hugging his hips, sheer pantyhose that caught the light just right, a crisp blouse tucked beneath a sleek black tie, and just enough dramatic accessories to toe the line between priest’s worst nightmare and runway menace. Hell, he’d even done his makeup. Full glam. All for the bit, of course.

Sure, he was moodier these days…sharper edges, colder shoulders, his awful glares- but evidently his awful sense of humor had survived the apocalypse. He’d walked here in those damn heels, through the woods no less. His knees ached. His ankles screamed. And yet, as he stood at the door, he looked immaculate.

He hated that he’d actually tried to look good for a demon. Astaroth, of all things. The thought made him cringe internally- but not enough to stop.

Scarred knuckles to wood, he tapped at the door and called out in that sing songy voice of his.

“Astaroth~?”

" Goodness," comes from inside. " Did you beat the postman to me?" Gary shuffles around inside before opening the door, his usual smug expression on. " If I find him dead, you k-"

Oh. That's...

Not what he expected. He visibly eyes up Thomas once behind his shades. Pauses a moment, likely blinking. Eyes him up again. And only then does the red seep into his face. (Usually, he does a much better job of hiding this. Curse human instinct.)

" Thh- oh my. Tom!" He coughs a bit, trying to hide both the nickname and how he's fumbling on his words. " Thomas. You, ah, certainly showed me up. I didn't think... I had no clue you owned anything th... well, just." He makes a vague gesture to all of him. " Wow! I didn't... know... you. Owned makeup?"

Yes. Yes, that's the words he means to say, because if he had to dwell on the fact that he found this attractive, and HEAVEN FORBID HE FUCKING SAID IT, he'd probably stab out his third eye- which has unhelpfully been a tattoo for the past week, and shows NO signs of returning.

He steps out of the cabin proper, adjusting his clothes as he does. It looks like he did go out of his way not to look terrible- though it's his usual red sweater and black blazer combination that he loves. At least he put in more effort- he's got red sunglasses this time, and a broad black hat.

They look like they're emos on their way to Beelzefest. He wouldn't have it any other way.

" You walked quite far out, you know. Are you expecting me to carry you out of these woods?"

[dominusumbrae]

Thomas let out a quiet chuckle as Gary effortlessly scooped him up. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around the man’s neck, his feet dangling slightly as he exhaled a soft sigh, relief washing over him now that the pressure was off his aching knee.

“Mmm, thanks, sweetheart,” he purred into Gary’s ear. “I was thinking about heading to that little café in town. I go there a lot to work…I like the sound of people. It makes the world feel less quiet.”

He was more open now than he used to be. Once upon a time, John would’ve danced around thoughts like that. Even in the early days, Tom tried to be subtle. But now? After everything? He’d lived too much and lost too much to bother hiding much anymore.

“I seriously think you should wear things like this more,” he added with a smirk, teasing him as he lightly tugged at Gary’s collar. “You look sooo handsome right now, Mr. Miller.”

Thomas got away with a lot and he knew it. There was a kind of confidence in him now, earned or inherited from the ones who watched over him. Demons or not, they wouldn’t take kindly to anyone laying a harmful hand on him. Maybe that’s why he smiled the way he did. He was practically untouchable.

Thomas hadn’t replied to the last message- he’d been far too busy deciding what to wear. And by God, had he committed.

Heels- tall ones, as if his 6’2” frame needed any help. A black leather skirt hugging his hips, sheer pantyhose that caught the light just right, a crisp blouse tucked beneath a sleek black tie, and just enough dramatic accessories to toe the line between priest’s worst nightmare and runway menace. Hell, he’d even done his makeup. Full glam. All for the bit, of course.

Sure, he was moodier these days…sharper edges, colder shoulders, his awful glares- but evidently his awful sense of humor had survived the apocalypse. He’d walked here in those damn heels, through the woods no less. His knees ached. His ankles screamed. And yet, as he stood at the door, he looked immaculate.

He hated that he’d actually tried to look good for a demon. Astaroth, of all things. The thought made him cringe internally- but not enough to stop.

Scarred knuckles to wood, he tapped at the door and called out in that sing songy voice of his.

“Astaroth~?”

" Goodness," comes from inside. " Did you beat the postman to me?" Gary shuffles around inside before opening the door, his usual smug expression on. " If I find him dead, you k-"

Oh. That's...

Not what he expected. He visibly eyes up Thomas once behind his shades. Pauses a moment, likely blinking. Eyes him up again. And only then does the red seep into his face. (Usually, he does a much better job of hiding this. Curse human instinct.)

" Thh- oh my. Tom!" He coughs a bit, trying to hide both the nickname and how he's fumbling on his words. " Thomas. You, ah, certainly showed me up. I didn't think... I had no clue you owned anything th... well, just." He makes a vague gesture to all of him. " Wow! I didn't... know... you. Owned makeup?"

Yes. Yes, that's the words he means to say, because if he had to dwell on the fact that he found this attractive, and HEAVEN FORBID HE FUCKING SAID IT, he'd probably stab out his third eye- which has unhelpfully been a tattoo for the past week, and shows NO signs of returning.

He steps out of the cabin proper, adjusting his clothes as he does. It looks like he did go out of his way not to look terrible- though it's his usual red sweater and black blazer combination that he loves. At least he put in more effort- he's got red sunglasses this time, and a broad black hat.

They look like they're emos on their way to Beelzefest. He wouldn't have it any other way.

" You walked quite far out, you know. Are you expecting me to carry you out of these woods?"

[dominusumbrae]

“I’m not picky… we can do whatever you’d like to.”

Kai lets his hand trail down from the back of Tom’s head to his neck, then to his chest. He then switched to just his index finger, letting it lightly trail down Tom’s chest while laying there on his back with a grin.

“I hate making decisions,” he grumbled, though the protest lacked any real conviction. His breath caught in his throat as Kai’s fingers trailed down his body, drawing a fresh flush to his cheeks. Slowly, he sank down a bit, giving in, pressing soft kisses to Kai’s neck. One hand reached up, fingers fumbling with the hem of Kai’s shirt, eager to tug it off.

[dominusumbrae]

Kai is a bit surprised when he feels this, but decides to bite a little bit harder, choosing a new spot on the side of Tom’s neck. His hand stays firmly tangled in Tom’s hair as well, still tugging and lightly pulling.

Tom lets out a grunt and tugs at Kai’s hair, pulling him back from his neck for just a moment. “Kai…” he mumbles, quieter now, almost hesitant. But the hesitation doesn’t last. In one swift motion, he shifts, pushing Kai down onto the mattress beneath him. His legs remain straddled over his hips as he leans in, eyes locked onto his. “What do you want to do?”