#but just handing me a Bible and saying then there you go isn't enough

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

XO is actually a fascinating song from a Christian perspective but idk if I can figure out how to put it into words

[diazsdimples]

Tommy can remember the day he knew he was going to kill Vincent Gerrard. Or, not kill exactly, but do some serious, irreparable damage to him. He'd kind of figured this day would come, if the way he felt like ripping the old man's mustache right off his face whenever Buck came home upset was anything to go by. He just didn't think it would happen quite so soon. He's held Buck plenty of times after rough shifts, where Gerrard would make him man behind for no other reason than "I want this place clean and perfectly organized. That's what you people do, isn't it?". He's heard enough stories from Eddie, and Hen, and Chim, about the abuse they were all getting but how most of Gerrard's hellfire seemed directed towards Buck.

But nothing could prepare him for the fury he felt when that day arrived.

He'd gotten a text from Eddie, a short and simple "he needs you", and he'd been in his car in a flash. The whole drive he'd been worrying, not sure what he'd be arriving to.

When he gets there, he knows it’s bad. Hen and Chimney are locked in a furious screaming match with Gerrard, their faces all varying shades of puce, and it looks like Hen's about to punch Gerrard in the nose, based off the hand Chimney has wrapped tightly around her wrist.

He spots Eddie and Buck immediately; they're in the locker room and Eddie has his arm around Buck's shoulders. When he looks up and locks eyes with Tommy, he can see the flames of rage licking behind Eddie's eyes. Buck's got his face in his hands, and his shoulders are shaking in a way that tells Tommy that he's crying. Tommy's across the station in 3 quick strides, dropping to his knees in front of Buck and taking his face in his hands, stroking his thumbs over his cheekbones.

"What the hell happened?" he asks Eddie, because Buck's not in any shape to breathe right now, let alone talk.

Eddie doesn't reply immediately, but his jaw ticks and he looks like he's carefully picking his words. Just as he's about to speak, Buck's voice, quiet and broken, cuts through the silence.

"He made me watch."

Tommy's brow furrows in confusion, and a ball of dread settles in the pit of his stomach. Buck swallows convulsively and even Eddie looks like he might throw up. It's bad.

"Watch what?" Tommy asks carefully. He doesn't want to push it, not if Buck isn't up to speaking, but he needs to know.

Eddie speaks up first, and his voice is shaky too.

"We were called to a massive haemorrhage at the Pride Event in West Hollywood. A man and his husband had been attacked by one of those bible bashers that stand there and tell everyone they're going to hell. A bystander said they'd been arguing with him and he pulled a knife. Got the first guy in the stomach, second just above his heart. There was nothing we could do."

Buck takes a deep breath, a whine issuing from the back of his throat. Tommy puts a hand around the back of his neck and rubs soothing circles just below his hairline.

"He made me watch," Buck repeats again, a little louder this time, and Tommy's heart clenches cause he knows, he fucking knows what Buck is going to say next. "He said "ride with Wilson, Buckley. This is a good opportunity for you to increase your medic skills." He knew they weren't going to survive but he made me...." Buck trails off, unable to finish his sentence, and Tommy's vision goes red. He's never hated anyone more than he hates Gerrard right now.

That is, until Buck finishes his sentence.

"He said "you might learn something valuable," but he wasn't talking about the job."

Buck's fists are clenched so tight his knuckles are white, and there's blood under his fingernails. Eddie's got a fistful of Buck's shirt clenched tightly in his fist and he looks like he's doing all he can to not run upstairs and tear Gerrard limb from limb.

There's a ringing in Tommy's ears and everything sounds kind of muffled, like his head is underwater. He's clutching the back of Buck's neck so hard that it's got to be painful, but he can't make himself let go.

When he left the military, Tommy made a vow that he would never take another man's life. But for this - for Gerrard - for what he did to Buck, the light of Tommy's life, he might just make an exception.

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

thoughts on fanfiction, perfectionism, and being enough

I'm pretty sure I'm ill and half-asleep and the Good Omens fandom has destroyed my last tenuous grasp on reality, but I am making a post anyway not knowing what I'm going to say. Because that's what this site is for, is it not?

*holds out hand* *waits for you to take it* Hey, you know, you're never going to be done. You're never going to look at something you made and think it's perfect. It's never going to be enough. It's okay to stop and it let it be imperfect. The earth didn't just birth life into just the right conditions, it made creatures which evolved and went extinct, ice ages which ended, volcanos that destroyed life and volcanos that preserved cities for millennia. It made jagged rocks that would be smoothened by rivers and stomachs that would hunger, rivers that would flood and rivers that would run dry.

Create imperfect things and give them to the world. Let the world create from it in turn in an endless cycle. Like Milton on the Bible, like BBC with Sherlock Holmes, like anyone writing fanfiction of their favourite show... Let your creation be imperfect, so you can see all the million ways in which people try to perfect it. All the million ways in which perfection can exist. That's the beauty of fandoms and fanworks. It keeps the creation evolving, keeps it breathing and alive. It becomes the work of a million people, and carries their stories with it in a little back pocket.

And maybe we were made to be imperfect too. Our hair tangles just to be brushed, our arm itches just to be scratches, our hand clenches just to be held and unclenched. There are odd shapes that make us up but they fit in with everyone else's, in handshakes, in bridal carries, in a parent lifting a child, a rescue worker lifting a victim, a girl kissing her wife, a child hugging his toy, a person holding their hands in prayer or in pain.

I'm trying to remind myself of that, because it's so easy to keep wanting more, to believe that there will be a point at which I will be satisfied with what I have done. Even in this fandom, I look at my ridiculous summaries I accidentally wound up making, and look at someone's beautiful meta blog and I feel like shrinking a little bit. But in real life, I'm a designer and an artist, a reader and poet and songwriter, and someone who has been a writer the past eight years, if not all my life. Have I done enough to qualify for any of these roles? Who knows? It shouldn't matter to me, and it shouldn't matter to you, whatever you love doing or are doing.

It will never be enough, you will never be enough for yourself. Can we try to make peace with that little gap in ourselves that acts like a vacuum to keep sucking in more and more effort and things? It'll never be filled. That's okay.

*squeezes your hand before letting go* Isn't it amazing how imperfect and fucked up we all are? Isn't it beautiful that we don't have to sit and stare at statues we cannot touch, but we get stone that we can keep carving all we like? That creation starts with imperfection? I don't know if I'm making sense anymore, the medications are kicking in and my eyes are closing. But I love all of you, everyone who is a maggot and everyone reading this post, too.

Take this *holds out a seashell* it's pretty and it's broken and the animal that made it his home changed it, the sea changed it, and I hope you change it, too. That's all.

[cornyonmains]

Alright, just finished episode 3, and I'm putting some things together. As usual, spoilers ahead.

First off, Bible is a really good actor, and I'm so glad he got to debut with a company like BOC. His voice when he told Tyme how much fun he'd had had SO MUCH packed into it, especially when informed by the story about how he'd always wanted to play one as a kid. He was so happy someone wanted to spend that time with him. Ugh, my heart.

The forgiveness note was really telling this episode. Jes has done a really good job of portraying Tyme as someone who deeply struggles with empathy, probably too much. Where Great seems to be overwhelmed by emotion, Tyme's challenge is accessing it, and I find that contrast in their characters quite interesting. Tyme having hurt Great in the previous timeline isn't surprising. I'm actually starting to wonder if Tyme isn't the one manipulating Great's visions from the future. The conversation about intubating that patient really paints Tyme as someone who would fight fate tooth and nail.

Tonkla being a tweaker just made him 75 times more dangerous, and I feel like enough of us have seen Breaking Bad for me to eschew any further explanation save to say, uh, tweakers gonna tweak. Lanky cop is in for it.

I find it so interesting that Jes and Bible are going to fuck so nasty in the next episode BOC is sending out disclaimers like, "We're only going to let people over 65 into the theatre screening, guys. Shit got outta hand." Jes taking off his mask at the end of the episode doesn't strike me as something his character would have done in the original timeline, especially with all of Great's terrible first impressions. There's going to have to be a conversation, and so Great's definitely going to be on board with whatever's happening if he's letting Dr. Rizzless B.D. get it in.

Unrelated to the episode itself, I think I definitely like Jes and Bible better than Bible and Build in terms of acting. Build isn't a bad actor, but Bible is so phenomenally talented the benefits of having an experienced scene partner are evident. This is the benefit of switching up ships. It's only three episodes in and I'm the chemistry between these two is more insane than it ever was between Build and Bible. You don't make these happy little discoveries when you lock actors into ships.

[annwrites]

i already have ♰˳⸙;;

— pairing: shane walsh x fem!reader

— type: part of a series

— summary: you & shane share your beliefs in a short conversation in a church

— tw: suicidal ideation, religion

— word count: 930

You stare up at the crucifix before you, feeling devoid of anything.

No.

Not anything.

Hopelessness is the one thing you do feel.

One dead-end after another. That's the only thing you all do seem able to find.

The CDC and Jenner had had no answers. Not with his wife being gone.

The highway and Dale's RV blowing a radiator hose had left all of you stranded in the middle of nowhere.

And now you were here.

You'd all felt so hopeful to hear that bell ringing. You'd prayed to a God who clearly wasn't listening—if he ever had—for it to lead you toward something. To Sophia.

She'd never been here in the first place.

You glance to Carol and can practically feel the grief and desperation rolling off of her. You don't want to believe that Sophia is gone. Or worse: being out there alone in the woods...

If the wrong people—the wrong men—came across her... You don't want to think about how she'd never have a chance.

Death would be kinder.

So you stare at Him—crying tears of blood—and wonder how His father, who knows what it is to lose a child, could allow such a thing?

The wooden bench creaks as Shane sets down beside you. "Didn't know you were religious."

He says it softly, his tone anything but mocking, even if he himself doesn't believe. Doesn't understand how you can—if you indeed do, that is. But if you do—have some sort of faith, something to believe in—he'll just be glad if it finally turns out that you have something that may perhaps help to keep you going.

"I'm not."

The thought of the possibility of you taking comfort in something more, even if you can't see it, quickly disappears. He leans back, resting him arm behind you, all thoughts of encouraging you to take a Bible with you when you all leave now gone.

You're quiet for a moment, then, "Are you?"

He shrugs. "Not really. Never was my thing, I guess. Hard to believe when you're witness to the shit I was as a cop." He looks at you. "Were you ever?"

You shrug then as well. "My parents made me go to church when I was little. Like a lot of kids, especially in the south. I never liked it. The getting up early, and being forced into uncomfortable clothes, and the way my mom did my hair. I didn't like how the other kids were mean to me, or how I would sit on those uncomfortable wooden pews and stare up at a preacher yelling words and passages at me that I couldn't understand. I didn't like how judgmental so many in the congregation seemed to be, even toward each other. Once I was old enough to make the decision not to go anymore, I stopped attending. I didn't regret it."

You look at him and his head is now resting atop his fist as he simply looks at you. You're unsure of the soft look in his eyes.

"So what'd you start believin' in instead? If anythin'."

You glance down to your lap. "Nothing in particular, I guess. I just...I suppose I tried to just see the beauty in nature instead. In the plants and trees, insects and animals, fresh air and clear water. Occasionally even people." You look up to him. "The way I am now—who I am now—is nothing like the way I was before. I didn't need to look for a reason to live, because I didn't need one. Because I didn't want to die."

He uses his other hand that isn't propping his head up to reach out and take your right hand, holding it firmly—comfortingly—in his grip.

"What if that reason was another person?" He looks at you from under his lashes.

You look down to your hand that's in his, watching as his thumb rubs soothing circles on the back of yours. "I don't know how to make you realize you're wasting your time-"

He cuts you off, taking his other hand and lacing it between strands of your hair at the back of your head, gently massaging. "I don't know how to make you realize the only waste would be your life being cut so damn short."

You think back to the things he'd said to you that night in the RV—I refuse to just let you slip through my fingers—he made it sound like...like you were something he'd finally found after having looked for you for so long.

You can't keep doing this to him: insisting that you want to be left alone to die. You'd done it twice now. And while what happened on the highway had been an accident...had he not had his eye on you— not seen you pass out—you may've slipped away right there in the middle of the road. So, he had saved you a third time. And even now he was still trying to talk you into staying...alive.

Giving up was easy. The thought of trying to hold on? It feels near-impossible now. Like lifting a giant boulder and carrying it with you every step of the way.

"Do you believe we'll find her?"

He studies you for a moment. "I hope so."

"Do you believe we'll find...something, or somewhere worth living for?"

He leans toward you, gently pressing his forehead to yours, closing his eyes. "I already have," he says in a whisper, before pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

[fountainpenguin]

Riddle watches New Wish - Post #4

... Angela has orange eyes. Interesting... It's a good thing that 8 years ago, I didn't set up my entire magical society to be obsessed with natural orange features like hair because it's the rarest color in the magical world, ahahaha...

Cosmo hung a picture of himself on their wall.

SHE HAS A CREATURE-HUNTER FOR A DAD? Oh no, oh no, oh no... Someone call Doombringer, Crocker, and Ed Leadly- They've got a new friend!

He didn't react to Cosmo and Wanda describing the features Crocker always names as fairy traits (wands, wings, floating crowns), so he probably doesn't know Crocker.

She's so cute...

Okay, I love that Cosmo and Wanda walk backwards while bouncing. They are still not used to being human.

CRYING, Wanda literally noped out with a farewell of "We probably won't be seeing you much." That is a woman who is not willing to get dragged out of retirement and back into creature-hunting threats. I'm very curious as to how they end up with Hazel.

Hey, Hazel's indoor rug is even cooler than the one in the hall.

POV, you usually would fly across the hall but you don't have your wings out right now.

She vaporized the door, doors are STILL for chumps!!

AND WE GET CEILING LIGHTS? They thought of everything!

... Enrichment Academy? Interesting...

Okay, I love how the building design, the hills, and Hazel's schoolmates still totally belong in FOP style:

Hey, that's the guy from the story bible preview! He's getting the skateboard noises; that's cute.

And baby, we're SO back!

Cosmo and Wanda think they slick:

Hazel introducing herself to the class as "liking french fries" is a mood.

"I have an older brother! He's my best friend. He's visiting today and it will totally make up for the fact that no one laughed at my rock joke." - Girl, you are dying inside.

(He's not gonna show and that's what'll push C and W into taking her in... isn't it?)

Oh, they have swirls on their ears like the OG style! Nice. Also, I love the thin, stretchy arms and tiny legs... This is nice.

Oh no.

Yeah, this kid looks stable. Please tell me he doesn't have orange hair. Haha, I'm in danger.

HE'S DALE'S KID??? Lemonade Dungeon Boy got himself a partner? Mr. Only Shows Up In One Episode unless he's the pixie godkid implied by Da Rules' page about pixies in the Musical but he's probably not, he's just always been my leading theory and it was in Season 2?

Ohhh, boy; writers did their homework. I support him and what I can only assume are well-adjusted social skills. And yay, that gives us a timeline.

If this kid were an animal, I don't think I'd let him eat out of my hand. He's ready for collateral damage.

Hazel has been so nice to everyone, not even outing Cosmo and Wanda to her dad, and she's already ready to yeet this kid into the trash because he's not good enough to recycle.

omg, we're getting introduced to the background characters? Yesssss...

Okay, I'm cracking up at Dev introducing the ASMR guy (Whisper) as "gives me the creeps, but I respect the hustle." I'm intrigued.

Whisper was my alt name for Whistle, so I'm glad I went with the latter!

I am saving every poster I ever see.

Love how we're getting to tour more of the building. We've got stairs! And mailboxes! ... Also, Cosmo and Wanda were not her bubble charms in disguise, but that's definitely where they're going.

I like how Hazel's parents did immediate damage control when she started reacting and made sure she was expressing a healthy response in front of Antony.

I'm obsessed with Hazel. She reminds me so much of Chloe. "Running away! Not in a bad way like on TV, but in a good way! 'cuz it's me and I know what I'm doing!" They would be friends. I wonder if we'll get to see adult Chloe.

omfg, Cosmo and Wanda saw "Child running away" and they're IMMEDIATELY gunning for this child. Sir/Ma'am, please get your minds retuned for this century. Do not steal the child.

SLDKJFSDF compilation of past episodes where Cosmo has gone to space after he says he wants to go to space. Looks like the "Spaced Out" saga AND - and I am shook -

THAT'S "TERRIBLE TWOSOME," Season 9! When he's reading jokes to Poof so he'll stop blocking the sun!

Sir/ma'am, where is your paperwork to take this child?

I'm glad I got a heads up that the writers confirmed the bus driver isn't actually Timmy; I can see how that would be confusing.

Stopping here so I can do a thing with my parents. Will return later!

[mediocreanomaly]

Amen. Priest!Wolfwood x Reader (NSFW)

**GN!Reader** Authors Note: I have an issue. Yes Priest!Wolfwood sparks joy, so please enjoy 4,539 of depravity as my welcome back, small note at the end!

**Content Warning: I grew up religious so I'm using real scripture here, if you're religious or that makes you uncomfy this might be a skip for you, if you're depraved like me read on**

Being raised Catholic was a one-way street to spoon fulls of guilt being shoved down your throat. Most everyone in the church was more or less aware of that fact, whether they acknowledged it or not.

However, there’s a warning they don't bother to put on the good book. A warning about the more...complicated relationship you develop with religion once the guilt that's swelled up in your chest has nowhere else to go.

"Then God said, 'Take your son to the land of Moriah and kill your son there as a sacrifice for me. This must be Isaac, your only son, the one you love. Use him as a burnt offering on one of the mountains there. I will tell you which mountain.” Church sometimes God ask things from us, things that seem...unimaginable, unbearable, but we are not lead blindly. No, quite the opposite, God-' " Father Wolfwood emphases by pointing to the rafters of the church as if the big man himself was sitting there, watching. "He has a plan, a plan so great and magnificent that we cannot begin to comprehend. With that understanding Abraham takes his son, because he trust, church, he trust God enough to follow-"

The sermon is drowned out. To anyone around you you'd look devout. Pious even with how well you focus on Father Wolfwood, but it's not the bible that makes you show up every Sunday. It's the dark black tousled hair that trails into stubble lining his cheek. It's those big brown eyes wide and confident as he preaches to the congregation. It's those hands, large and calloused, that make you wonder what life he must have lived before this as he moves them around with his speech. It's his skin, perfectly tan and forehead beading with sweat from the insufferable heat of the church, no doubt that cassock isn't helping. It's his voice, deep and raspy with that perfect cadence that makes you wonder what it'd be like if he said your name while bending you over-

"Y/n?" The altar boy who you didn't even realize had come to your pew ask. He's holding out communion in a way that tells you he's been there for a second.

"Oh! uh-" you reach out for the wine when a hand around your wrist stops you, you blink a few times and look up to see the man you were just ogling at meeting your gaze with dark eyes.

"Why don't you pass that out to the other pews, y/n is joining me for a special communion after church, they had something they wanted to pray on with me" Father Wolfwood says easily.

"I do?" the words fall from your mouth dumbly which causes Wolfwood to raise an eyebrow at you as if you're stupid. You let yourself swallow and bow your head as if scolded, you wonder what part of being a priest blessed him with so much sass.

"ah- right! yes I had forgotten, thank you Father Wolfwood" you correct. You had not, in fact, discussed anything of the sorts with the Father, but there was clearly something you were missing here.

He gives you a curt nod before softening his eyes and turning back to the young boy.

"Go on" he insist. He does, continuing to the next pew with all the confirmation he needed and Wolfwood finally let’s go of your wrist. The warmth of his hand that lingers isn't lost on you as you wearily glance up at him.

"Special communion?" You try hoping to gather a bit more information on the situation you'll be faced with after Mass.

"mhmm, God has called me to you. Something weighs on your mind, perhaps a repentance is in order?" his face gives away nothing, although you swear his eyes darken as he watches you with a pleasant smile that stays locked on his face.

Alarm bells ring in your head. Did...did he know? You had done your best to hide your less than innocent gaze as worship. Thinking back on it perhaps you were less conspicuous about it than you thought, that or God was the worst wing man ever.

"Father Wolfwood I-"

He holds up his hand to pause the word vomit that was about to stutter out and shakes his head.

"Later. Best to confess without prying eyes, no?"

He lets you simmer on that as he makes his way back to the front of the church. When he leads the church in prayer you do take it upon yourself to pray for once. You pray you'll sink into the floor or be struck dead before the end of the sermon.

By the time the church doors are opened, and people file out you're sure your heart will burst anyways. You stay seated in the front pew, not moving an inch because if you stand it'll be to bolt out the door and... well technically nothing was keeping you from it. It's not like the god damn (sorry God) preacher would shoot you if you attempted to run. He had simply suggested you confess. Easy. He probably hears peoples fucked up sexual fantasies all the time sitting in that booth. You knew the sheriff’s wife was sleeping with the banker and you knew the sheriff was sleeping with the widow down the street so it's not like the stuff that’s pulled from the great Catholics of No Mans Land weren't anything he hadn't heard before.

That's the thought you try and let comfort you as Father Wolfwood finishes up thanking people for coming to church and shaking hands.

The church doors shut with a thud that makes you jump in your seat; you press your hands together firmly and feel your fingernails dig into the skin there. This was fine.

"You know" Father Wolfwood folds his hands politely behind his back and takes agonizingly slow steps down the aisle "People with guilty conscious are more likely to be startled by loud noises."

You keep your head bowed slightly in what must look like a mock prayer, but you aren’t praying any more, you're just doing everything possible to not throw up on the churches nice red carpet, carpet that is interrupted when two black dress shows come into view.

"y/n?"

That voice. It makes you press you lips in a firm line scared of what filth might come out of it if you speak. Instead, to show you're listening, you slowly raise your head to meet Wolfwoods eyes, the likes of which seem clouded in some strong emotion. Were priest always this intense? Well, the easy answer was yes but this was a different type of intensity, not kind that filled revering words but one that more closely resembled a predator zoning in on its prey.

"Y/n" he says it again, albeit softer this time as if coaxing forward a scared animal. "You have something on your mind, don't you? Something that plagues you?"

You feel your fingers instinctively move to fiddle with the hem of your shirt. If the heat from the church before was unbearable before then this is downright swelting.

"Don't you usually do this kind of thing in the booth?" a poor attempt of a smile graces your lips in a desperate attempt to lighten whatever mood was staring to suffocate the air.

"Usually yes. This is a special case I believe though..." he leans down and your heart slams against your chest, his breath fans against your cheek. You can smell lingering cologne and... was that smoke? Surely not, if your local priest smoked it'd be the talk of the town, although now that you think about it those plush lips would look perfect balancing a cigarette between them, and they'd look even better if he used those teeth to-

"I almost forgot! You haven't received communion" He straightens out in an instant and claps his hands together nearly scaring you out of your skin while your face heats up from pure embarrassment.

You watch as he crosses from the pew to the table behind the pulpit and grabs a small cup of wine and bread. Just as quickly he's back in front of you with the objects. You reach out to accept them when he pulls his hands back.

"ah ah ah, I said this was a special communion didn't I? I'll deliver it unto you, you just sit and do as your told."

Oh. Yeah, that definitely didn't do anything to you. Nothing like a gruff handsome man in priest wear telling you to obey in the house of God. This was for sure not bubbling up any worrying realizations about yourself. Nope. Not in the slightest.

He steps back putting a little bit of room between the two of you before his eyes flicker from you to the carpet in front of him.

"Kneel."

You go instantly and willingly, a bit too willingly. Your mind flashes with Father Wolfwoods sermons about the disciples who kissed Jesus’ feet. You wonder if this was an elaborate way to get you to read the bible more because you're beginning to understand what was going through their minds now as you sit on your knees in front of the priest.

You aren’t sure if Wolfwood expected you to be so eager. He pauses for a moment before you swear a hint of a smirk plays at his lips. He raises the glass and the bit of bread slightly.

"Listen to me closely, we wouldn't want to spill and stain the carpet now, would we?" he ask.

You shake your head no. He makes a satisfied hum and continues.

"Tilt your head back.”

You do as your told, tilting your head back until your eye level is forced to be centered on the man in front of you.

"Open your mouth.”

Your mouth begins to salivate despite the fact there’s nothing in it yet. Perhaps it's due to the fact that what he's about to put in it isn't want you’d like to have resting on your tongue.

"Good. Why don't you stick your tongue out a little bit? I don't want you to dribble."

Fuck him. Fuck him so bad. There was no way he didn't know what he was doing but if had any hint about this sadistic game he was playing with you he gave no indication, he remained at stoic as ever as if you weren't having the most unholy thoughts imagine about your fucking priest.

There’s no going back though. You follow his instructions and let your tongue loll out of your mouth. You swear something flickers in his eyes, but it's gone as soon as it arrives.

He raises the glass and bread more as if offering it to God.

"Close your eyes.”

You do. You let the light of stained-glass windows be blotted out by your own blind obedience.

“Corpus Domini Nostri Iesu Christi custodiat animam tuam in vitam aeternam....Amen."

You feel him press the small bit of bread onto your tongue, you close and eat. You don't need to be told before your opening your mouth again.

The wine follows right after, poured into your mouth and you swallow it down focusing on not letting any hit the ground with the speed at which the contents are emptied down your throat.

What realistically could not have been more than a few seconds feels as though it's lasted a lifetime. You take a deep breath once the bitter wine has settled in your stomach and before you can even think about getting up and excusing yourself from the church Wolfwood puts a hand on your shoulder, signaling for you to stay in place.

"Good. Why don't we get that confession out of the way then?"

Right. The reason he had probably pulled you aside for all of this in the first place. Had he seen through you? Seen how hungry your gaze had become? Probably. Looking back on it sitting in the front row was probably not the best idea when the entire reason for your Sunday visits was for potential fantasy fuel. There didn't seem like any reason to lie though, it's not like a priest could tell anyone about these things and outside of church Father Wolfwood was a bit of an anomaly to the town.

He didn't have any friends that you knew of, didn't gossip, or hang out at the bar, the man lived in this church which was making you feel a bit more guilty about your infatuation now that you thought of it but hey, if you weren't guilty about something then were you even a catholic?

"Forgive me Father I have sinned..."

With a grimace you realize why the damn confessions booths were so popular. Admitting this to God or a wooden wall was a little too easy. Admitting this to Wolfwood was like someone slowly peeling off your skin.

"I see, well, tell me child what is your confession?"

a swallow, then a leap.

"I have been...ah having inappropriate thoughts about someone. Someone who I go out of my way to see to add to these...fantasy's I have."

He listens closely and his hand comes up to cup the back of your head.

"I see...lust then?"

You nod in response, and he makes an affirming noise.

"And what do you imagine happening in these...fantasies of yours?"

The silence in the empty church is so loud it's deafening. Your hands scrunch and unscrunch the fabric of your pants.

"I...I imagine him pushing be down against these very pews Father. That one day as I'm standing up to leave mass, he'll shove me right back down and take me against the wood."

It's said strained but even you must admit maybe there’s something to this confession shit because you feel a bit lighter with it off your shoulders. Father Wolfwood looks less light. In fact, he looks you've just damned him to hell.

"Is that all?" he asks but it comes out breathier than he means it to.

The tone sends something to your core, oh you see it now. Lamb and shepherd your ass, you were still most certainly the lamb but the Father was no shepherd, he was the Wolf. Maybe God himself had put that divine foreshadowing into his name.

You shift on your knees and press yourself flatter trying to rub your thighs together. Wolfwoods eyes flicker down to the action then back up to your face, he opens his mouth to say something, but you beat him to it.

"No Father. Sometimes I imagine him taking me on the stand in front of the whole congregation. Still preaching while he finishes in me, holy words even in his most sinful act. But...do you know what I really want Father?"

Wolfwood swallows, his fingers trace along your face, and you fight every instinct to lean into it. He looks like this is paining him, He's all gritted teeth and square shoulders as he speaks.

"What do you want?"

Hook. Line. Sinker.

"I imagine he'd keep me here after church, that he'd have me kneel before him still while wearing his holy clothes, that collar, the rosary...and I wish he'd undo his belt to-"

"Enough."

Your mouth snaps shut scared you've pushed to far. You can feel heat bloom across your face in embarrassment now that your words are catching up to you, this was meant to be a confession not a shit porno, maybe you DID need God...

"You drive me insane you know that? Every day you come in here- the house of god mind you and stare at me like..." He clicks his tongue and motions to you.

"Well like that."

You aren't sure what to make of his tone, it's scolding and firm but hinges on needy at the end. You're starting to worry you broke the poor man before he makes an irritated noise.

"Fine. You want to repent so bad?" Wolfwoods hands go to his belt and with a soft clink of the metal it comes fastened. Your eyes flicker to look towards the door to make sure that no one was about to walk in on the scene that'd put Judas’ sin to shame when you're snapped out of your thoughts.

"Pay attention sweetheart, you were doing so good before, what happened?" The mask of a holy man cracks and gives way to something cockier, more taunting, more...Wolfwood.

"Unless you need scripture to keep your focus?" he works to undo the button and the zip of his dress pants as he tilts his head.

"Then here's something for you, 'the serpent said to the woman. “For God knows that when you eat from it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” When Eve saw that the fruit of the tree was good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom..' "

He frees himself from the confines of his pants. You feel your mouth water and although your knees are starting to hurt from kneeling for so long you have a feeling you're about to get your real communion.

" '...and she opened her mouth, and took.' "

In beat with his preaching you let your mouth fall open. In all honesty, you get it now. You get how appealing that lush fruit must have been to Eve, you get why even after being promised paradise, she gave in to temptation. The weight that settles on your tongue as Wolfwood presses into your mouth makes your eyes roll back and an involuntary moan escape your throat. Wolfwoods breath stutters.

"God..." He groans and if your mouth wasn't currently full you might have made a witty comment about using the lords name in vain but a quick hand lacing through your hair from Wolfwood serves well enough to sever whatever thought had flitted through your mind.

You flatten your tongue and take more, allowing as much as you can to the back of your throat but when tears prick your eyes and you gag slightly on the sensation he pulls you off with a wet pop. You whine slightly at loss before Wolfwoods hand grabs your chin while he uses his thumb to wipe up the drool leaking from your lips that you hadn't realized was there.

"Patience, don’t you listen to a word I say up there?” he muses, you sheepishly look up at him through your eyelashes and it’s answer enough. He pulls you back in front of his cock, "Be good then, swallow every drop and I might forgive you"

You don't have much time to argue has his hand guides you back. You're more prepared this time, the way you sit on your knees...you’re a picture perfect saint and who's here to judge you for your sin anyways? Wolfwood? Sounded like a set up to a joke.

"Fuck, yeah baby just like that. So good-" His words break off with a grunt and his hips stutter forward, he pulls your head forward and your reach up to steady yourself with his thighs. He rocks his hips to your mouth as he face fucks you in the middle of the church. When his breathing speeds up and he mutters out a sting of gentle curses you know he’s close. You close your eyes and let him use you as he spills down your throat. You're desperate to show him you can listen, you swallow down as much as you can trying to not let a single drop of cum hit the floor.

When the rough handful of hair is released, you pull back to try and catch your breath, a worthless endeavor it would seem considering you're just as quickly being lifted up by your arm. You feel yourself being tugged up the steps towards the pulpit and make peace with the fact you're officially the worst Catholic ever...well besides the priest who's currently the instigator of this depravity.

"Not done yet sweetheart, the grace of god doesn't come with a blow job surprisingly" Wolfwood huffs amused as he presses down on your shoulder to force you to bend of the wood stand.

"Are you even a priest?" wrong question you guess because Wolfwood makes an irritated noise.

"Aren't you supposed to be repenting?" His hands grope at your thighs spreading them apart much more slowly than you'd like, as if he's savoring it...reverence you think.

"Father-"

He chuckles lowly at that.

"Father" he imitates "you let that name fall from your lips like it doesn't turn you on just to say it"

His fingers ghost over your thighs, then around the area you want him most before sliding up under your shirt to explore flesh. It's so hot in the church and when you peer out across the wooden pews you see the stain glass window casting rainbow light that sprawls out across the floor all the way up to your body.

"Focus on me" Wolfwood corrects your wandering mind by nipping along your neck and your body instinctively shudders against him. You press your hips back to feel his growing hardness pressed against your ass. His hands slide your shirt up over your head and he begins to focus on trailing kisses along your back.

"Thank you, lord," His lips move against your shoulder blade.

"For delivering this sinner unto me, so that I may show them rapture."

His fingers hook along the hem of your pants and tug them down your legs until they rest right at your knees.

"Despite that, I must confess, I have sinned."

His fingers trace along your entrance before slowly sinking in. You groan and press your head to the wood in front of you, fingers scratching against the surface.

"I have lusted for someone of my own congregation. I have imagined them kneeling for me and I worst of all I have imagined me taking them, devouring them until there is nothing left to fill them but me"

Another finger lazily joins the first and he begins a slow rhythm of pumping them in and out. You attempt to wiggle your hips back to chase the feeling, but his other hand keeps your waist flush against the stand.

"But I am only a man so with my mortal body I will show them euphoria"

You feel his fingers pull out and whine at the loss only to feel the blunt head of his own cock begin to line up with you.

"Amen"

Wolfwood doesn't give you much more warning before roughly pressing in. You moan as he sets a backbreaking pace, thankful that he at least prepped you before. He's leaned over your body; his hair tickles the back of your neck slightly as he pants in your ear. You imagine your own noises can't be much better as his left hand, the one he's apparently wrapped in a rosary, comes up to catch your chin, two fingers press into your mouth as he supports your head. His other hand stays at your hip, bringing your body back against his with every thrust.

It's so hot in the church, sweat beads along your body and you can feel your hair beginning to stick to your forehead. Your mind feels foggy and you lap absent mindedly at the fingers invading your mouth. Wolfwood groans and pushes you down further against the stand and it'd be uncomfortable if you could focus on anything other than the priest fucking your brains out. He produces an ungodly amount of precum, you can feel it making a mess between your thighs right as drool begins to leak from the corners of your mouth and bead down to the wood below.

Wolfwoods hand shifts from your hip to where a blooming warmth has begun. You nearly cry out with relief babbling nonsense around his fingers, hell maybe even a few prayers. His own mouth is becoming less of that of a reverend and more of that of a ravenous man, mouthing and biting at what he can reach. The fingers press deeper into your mouth and your feel the smooth beads of the rosary are you toy with them with your tongue. You're close, you tremble beneath Wolfwood and he catches on because both his hands pull away to once again fit along your hips. You nearly sob from the new lack of stimulation as he rocks into you.

"Beg for it" Wolfwood says so firm you'd have sworn he was once again leading congregation. Your mind is half way to mush right now so it doesn't take much convincing to do what he wants.

"Please please please let me, I’m sorry, I’ll be good, I repent" you babble out hoping you’ve said the magic words.

His hand comes down firmly on your ass as he thrust into you then finally finally reaches to touch between your thighs.

It sends you over the edge instantly, your legs trembling as you whine and moan, Wolfwoods own obscene noises match your own as he finishes inside you, letting you milk him for all he's worth.

The two of you stay like that for a moment, you become aware of the fact your priest is pressed up against your back, trying to catch his breath from fucking the ever loving daylights out of you. You whine slightly and Wolfwood responds by nuzzling his face against your neck.

"Are you okay?"

You do actually laugh at that one, letting your forehead rest against the podium.

"The priest I've been fantasizing about fucking me for a year now just has. This has been the best lay of my life and you want to ask if I'm okay?"

"You're awfully vulgar aren't you?"

You snap your head up to make several points about irony of the statement but when you turn you see a shit eating grin on his face. Your playfully hit his chest and groan.

"You've got to be the worst priest ever"

"Can't say I'd deny that claim" He leans forward and kisses you, you go into it easily but the taste of his lips remind you of something, when you pull away you raise an eyebrow

"Do you smoke?"

He shrugs and keeps his hands on your waist.

"I prefer to keep certain things in my life separated from the church"

"and me?"

"Consider yourself a special case." He smirks and takes hold of your chin between his fingers "Although I do hope this was enough to keep you coming to my sermons?" he ask

You swallow at the dark look in his eye and place your hands on his chest.

"and miss the holy word? Perish the thought"

He chuckles lowly at that as your hands begin to play with the collar of the cassock he wears.

"Although Father, I fear I may not have properly confessed."

He raises an eyebrow and eyes you "No?"

You shake your head "See I only...repented for two out of three fantasy’s I had also mentioned being taken against the pews"

Wolfwoods hands tighten around his hips and his smile widens.

"Well...let's fix that, shall we?"

Author's note: ahhhh I'm back! I've been storin this little beauty away for awhile now. This is my welcome back post because I feel like I lost the way I wanted to organize and write for a little while and this was the first piece that got me back in the flow of things. I missed you guys! We're back baby! (I'll add my spacers in later I'm missin the files rn and I don't feel like searching for them)

[chorizoa]

entrail of faith — könig x reader

i have not properly written a fic or a snippet in so long, and I am physically aching to do so :3 plus, been obsessed with this man for like 3 months straight and it is NOT letting up— so, let me be indulgent, and nasty, and vile, and awesome while I cook up literary genius. (pls do not read my stuff if ur a minor ily mwah)

i hope u like :3 (cuz if u do I'm writing more)

cw: mentions of sex, force, and kidnapping, reader is mostly oblivious, Konig is just nasty and I'm shameless about it

synopsis(sorta): König has been a little crazy stalker, and you finally get close enough for him to make a move

———————————————————————

Konig was a good man, a routine man. His mother and grandmother had beaten manners into him, and daddy had his face shoved into a bible every Sunday morning. Everything was intentional, down to the way he stored his razors, all the way deep down to the way he shamefully ruts into his calloused palm each night. It all mattered— obsessively mattered.

Konig was a good man, a strong man. He tried so hard to keep his thoughts pure, be gentle with himself and others— lumbering about as if he were an animal latched to a ball and chain, a monster in the eyes of rookies and civilians alike— but he tried.

He can kill a man in less than ten seconds without a weapon, five with. He can dismember a corpse, and make someone seem as if they had never existed to begin with— he isn't a man of softness, he isn't a man who deserves a gentle hand, only his own thick mits that've been stained with decades of blood.

He wasn't  a man of softness—until he saw you. Effortless you. With your smile, the flowery trail of scent that tickled his nose in your wake, those fucking eyes— Konig tried to be a good man, but he wanted to so badly see them glossed over, heavy with arousal and desperation. How they'd roll when he—

Konig tried to be a good man.

— Sir? Are you ready to order?

Scheiße. Those eyes again, the way they fluttered— it was almost enough to distract him from the way that dingy little waitress get-up clung to your all-encompassing frame— and hearing the word sir  so obediently drip from your swelled lips made his cock twitch in his pants. Thank God he'd opted for the cargos today, and thank him again because you were such a good girl, you'd never peek.

Not that you'd have a chance, he loomed over you even at seated height— forcing your eyes up to meet his, seeming just much too big for the booth he shoved himself in— but, he was still shameless in the way his eyes roamed over you. At least you had the assurance he'd tip well.

— Ah- Ja, sorry Kätzen..

He cleared his throat, nervously tugging at the lip of his black surgical mask, his eyes darting about behind thick sunglasses. You're so pretty— what was he doing again? Ah, right, food. He wasn't hungry, not for anything they had here, except for you— but that wouldn't be a suitable answer, no, not for a precious little thing like you.

He could practically taste the aura that rolled off of you, you were no whore.

— Coffee- black, please. If it's not too much trouble.

Of course it wasn't too much trouble, it was your job. He was cursing himself internally, saying such stupid things to such a lovely girl. It would be easier if you were stuffed with his girth already, crying and spluttering as you struggled to fit him properly— he wouldn't say stupid shit then, but then you giggle- oh, fuck, you giggle and all the sudden he needs a freezing cold shower.

— Of course not, sir, will that be all?

Sweet girl, you should know not to smile at a man like that. Not a man like him, especially when his mind is full of bending you over this table and ruining that pretty head of yours.

— Yes, thank you, schätzchen.

He hoped you didn't know German, he hoped you were oblivious enough to let the way he was ripping your clothes to shred with his eyes go unnoticed— and of course, because you're such a good girl, it did.

— My pleasure- I'll be back in just a moment.

You are so polite, so sweet and efficient. He'd been watching you for a time now, the way you'd bustle about the café, being so kind even when majority of the creatures in here didn't deserve your time of day, not like he did— no, not anything like he did.

If he had it his way, you'd never work again. He'd throw money at you like it was a religion, give you all the codes and numbers to every bank account in his name— let you go on a spending spree, spoil you with fine lace and even better food. KorTac paid him enough, and he didn't spend a dime unless he needed something— unless he was indulging in you.

If he had it his way, you'd be dumb and obedient, you'd placate yourself to being his sweet little toy— and, oh, how he'd reward you for it. He'd keep you full of his seed, and happy with whatever object caught your affections, he'd build a goddamn castle for you. He'd never deny you a thing, as long as you kept looking at him like the most important person to exist— even if you were just doing your job.

— Your coffee, sir— oh, and careful, I just had them brew it.

Oh, you're such a darling. Fresh coffee? Just for him? You might as well give him your ring size now, he hopes you want kids.

— Lovely, Schatz, thank you.

— Of course, enjoy.

He almost felt crestfallen as you placed the bill next to him, and sauntered away, but your swaying hips could heal even the most shattered bones. Angels above, you were such a perfect thing— so innocent and lovely, you'd need to be protected, you'd need to be saved.

The heat of the coffee was nothing compared to the widely gaped blood vessels under his skin— breath threatening to catch everything he got a glimpse of you traipsing about. He had to make sure you were well distracted every time he dove in for a sip, you couldn't see his face, not yet.

If he were a better man, a more confident man, he'd leave you his number. He'd clean himself up, start a good conversation with you— take you to a fine dinner, even though he so hated the idea of something so insanely public. If he were half the man he held himself as, he wouldn't be salivating over you in an empty corner of the café.

Konig tried to be a good man, but he was slimy. He was a pervert, a danger— he'd never harm anyone— save for the men whose blood stained his hands, but he'd found himself craving indulgence in dark fantasies more than once. He was nasty, he was a monster, but he wanted to be soft for you. Simply, he wanted you, but his therapist would strongly advise against it— counseling that maybe, just maybe it's not best for his obsessive psyche.

Whatever, you'd learn to love it.

He had his reluctant fill of ogling, the tightening of his pants becoming too much to ignore, and the clatter of dishes becoming grating on his sensitive ears— he had to leave at some point. His coffee cup had long run dry, and he hadn't had the courage to waive you over for another.

If he were a better man, he'd leave you his number, but a crisp hundred to cover the bill— and leave you a tip to keep you fed— would definitely suffice. He tucked it under his coffee mug shamefully, wishing he just had the sack to speak to you— but that irritating fear of rejection always held him just at arms length.

How badly he wished he could just take you.

Everything else that wasn't you was boring, the streets were dull and gray, and rain drizzled like piss— just another way for God to mock him, punishment for his lustful behavior. Father would have a field day with him, if only he knew.

He stuffed his hands in the pocket of his soft-shell coat, rain pattering against it in an almost melodic sound. Nothing like your voice, though, oh nothing like that sound.

— Sir!

See, nothing like it, and he can't stop imagining it.

— Sir, you forgot your phone!

Oh, oh, he's not imagining that.

He whips around almost too fast, seeing you skirt on your heels as you stop your quick advance in front of him— his phone outstretched in a waiting hand. You really were such a lovely thing.

— Oh! Gott.. thank you, liebling— would have lost my head.

He wished he sounded.. cooler, smoother. But, he sounded like an inexperienced teen, stuck in a giants body. Always cringing at the sound of his own voice, but you smile and his world just fucking shifts— he couldn't give a shit how he sounded.

— it's- it's no worry, sir, I understand that.

Oh, your laugh, it's so sweet. He wants to touch you, grab you and squeeze you.

— I wanted to thank you actually- for the tip, I mean.. that was very generous of you—..?

You pause, trailing off as you look up at him. You want something, oh what is it maus? Anything. Say it, tell him— Oh, you want his name. His name. He has to fight the grin on his face.

— König— and do not worry yourself, Maus, it is no trouble. You work hard.

Now he's nonchalant, now he's found his groove. Keep being so humble, keep pretending like you don't want him to shower you in his endless wealth; keep looking up at him with those eyes that would be so much prettier coated in tears as you gagged on his thickness.

— Well, regardless, thank you, König.

Fuck, the way those pretty lips move with the pronunciation of his name— and you didn't miss a single vowel, what a good girl, what a smart girl. Oh, how he wanted to praise you like the good puppy you are, a collar with his name attached would be so pretty on you.

— Truly, Schatz, don't mention it— but, uhm-

Ah, he trailed, his fingers fidgeting with the lint of his pocket. Did he say it? Did he go for it? Either she'd be creeped, and run, or she'd be flattered— maybe even accepting. He had to keep it black and white, or he'd explode.

— Do you mind if I give you my number, liebling? I'd uh- I'd very much like to see you.. more.

Oh, he sounded like a fucking fool, and you looked so cute and patient; he was so used to drunken one-night stands, or shooting blanks into his hand when one just wasn't enough— this was so much harder when you looked like a literal angel to him, and not some cheap bimbo.

So patient, he wondered if you'd be like that while he railed you— even when you couldn't take it anymore. You were blushing, and he wanted to add tears to it, you were nervously fidgeting with your fingers, and he imagined them around his cock.

— Not at all, sir..

Today's a beautiful day. A lovely day even, the clouds had split just for him to bask in the loveliness of heaven's light— you sweet angel, you had no idea what you'd signed yourself up for.

— Perfekt. Hand me your phone, little one.

And you did, almost eagerly, such a good girl already. Following his orders so nicely, of course you did, even unlocking it before you passed it over.

His fingers never felt so nimble over a touchscreen, typing in his contact as if it were as easy as breathing— you seemed so shy, so nervous, it only made him confident. You made him confident, and he couldn't get enough.

— There you are, send me a text later, hm?

He hands the phone back grinning, he'd reward her for being so compliant— maybe work her open on his fingers just for now, a window of opportunity was wide open for him, and you were blushing all innocent and star-struck in front of him. He could not wait to ruin you.

— Yes, sir- König.. I'll do that. See you later!

— See you, maus.

Oh, you're so cute. You're so shy and it letting him read you like a filthy book. He knew you hadn't been taken care of, he knew you desperately needed satisfaction— and he'd give it to you tenfold, a sweet little thing like you deserved it. Especially since you did such a good job of hiding it behind that precious little smile.

Those eyes, they told him everything.

-----

pt.2 :3

[imagines-by-cleo]

Something like absolution

John Ward x Fem!Reader

CW: religious imagery, priest kink/hierophilia, dub con, dirty talk, phone sex, exhibitionism/voyeurism, mutual masturbation, wet dreams, masturbation, corruption, catholic guilt but sexy, we're getting a few years in purgatory for this

I've been getting way too into Faith the unholy trinity lately and this is the result of that.

There's an interview with the creator where he talks about every ending being cannon and John being a much more morally grey character than people realize so I played with that idea. I'm really proud of how this turned out, I would even be so dramatic to call it my magnum opus. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

It starts as all mistakes like this do, innocently enough. One sunday morning after mass John is sitting there alone in a small chapel reading his bible as he's in the habit of doing. Then you come in, smiling sweetly but he can see something troubling behind your eyes. He returns the smile as he greets you, noticing a faint blush creep on your face when he calls your name.

"It's always good to see you." He says as he closes his bible and sets it aside making a place for you. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Actually, there is, Father." You answer, taking a seat beside him on the pew. "There's something I've been struggling with lately."

"Of course, my child." He comforts you, setting a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Tell me all about it."

The blush on your cheeks returns, growing deeper as you take a moment to find the courage to share your heart with him. "I suppose it's the kind of thing you would take to confession, but I'm nervous. I've never confessed before."

The way you describe your troubles so sweetly leads him to believe you had never committed a sin in your life, he almost wants to laugh at the suggestion before he has to remember you were only human. John understands your hesitation though, being a relatively new priest he isn't entirely confident in his ability to hear sins and offer absolution, but he takes comfort in knowing that your inexperience matched his own, meaning any mistakes wouldn't be noticed right away.

"Confession is meant to unburden you of your sins, it can be daunting at first but you'll feel much better when we're done." He reassures you, keeping his hand on your shoulder as he moves closer. "I'll be here to guide you through every step of the way."

"Where do I begin?" You ask, encouraged by his words.

It warms his heart that you're so eager to take part in this cleansing ritual, while he was nervous at first now he was glad that it was him you decided to come to. Normally this was done in a booth, somewhere with more privacy, but it would be more comfortable for them both to stay there and not bar absolution with pointless formality.

"Usually you would begin by saying the words 'bless me, Father, for I have sinned.' Then you would tell me what's been troubling you." He explains, taking it step by step.

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned." You repeat, your voice a low reverent whisper.

The way you say that sacred phrase makes a chill run up his spine, though he's not sure why just yet.

"I've been struggling with..." You pause, looking for the proper words to describe your feelings. "Lustful thoughts."

John can feel his face go pale when he hears the subject, then he feels his cheeks heat up with a blush that mimics yours. Not even a few minutes into this confession and he realizes the true purpose of the sacred booth and the privacy it offers. He longs for that safety now but it's much too late, so he continues.

"Where are these thoughts coming from?" He asks, before having to clear his throat to correct to pitch of his voice. "And how often do you find yourself struggling with them?"

"There's someone close to me that I've been thinking about." You admit, beginning your story seeming so unassuming but slowly delving into something more sinful as you reveal more information. "It started so innocently, I just liked the way he smiled at me and now I can't stop thinking about him. I even have these thoughts during service now."

This particular bit of knowledge is the most shocking to the priest, before he had no idea that you were even capable of harboring these thoughts, let alone having them during such a sacred time while he was so close to you. As he continues he worries how this may affect how he looks at you in the future.

"How do you feel about this person? Perhaps what you're feeling is just misplaced love." He suggests, still trying to maintain the image of the sweet chaste girl he had spoken to moments ago.

"I think very highly of him, he's actually a very holy man, but I can't help but have these unholy thoughts about him." You explain, a tinge of guilt in your voice at this aspect of your admission.

John takes a deep breath in, trying his best not to look frustrated as he tries to reason with the two opposing images in his head. "Is it the holiness that you find so appealing about this man? If so it could be your desire to be holy yourself."

"Oh no, it's not like that, it's..." You look away from him as the blush deepens on your face, unable to article the details of your thoughts.

He takes your hands in a comforting gesture and feels them trembling in his grasp, you inhale sharply as you both touch but he keeps his hold steady, determined to be the one to help you through this no matter the discomfort at first.

"There's no need to be afraid, anything you share here is just between us." He assures you, your shaking doesn’t cease immediately but it calms slightly at the sound of his voice. "Now tell me, are these thoughts about any specific actions? Or is it just a feeling of longing?"

You seem to think for a moment before answering, glancing down at where your hands met, back up at him, then away again with red cheeks. "It was just longing at first, then I thought about things like how his hands felt when they were holding mine, and how they would feel touching me in other places..."

John should have pulled his own hands away when you said that, but he couldn't bring himself too. Suddenly he felt the need to hear more of the confessions that made him so apprehensive at a few moments ago.

"How do you feel after you have these thoughts? Do you feel guilty? Or maybe even satisfied?" It feels like a different person asking these questions as they flow from his mouth, but they're driven by a need that is entirely his own.

"I feel so guilty, Father, but I don't know how to explain it. The guilt just makes it more tempting." You tell him, your voice quivering in shame.

This strikes a chord with the priest, he knows the exact feeling you're describing all too well. At this point he knows he should stop, offer penance, grant absolution and go separate ways. Though before he can speak up you continue.

"When I 'indulge' these thoughts the guilt makes it more intense." You explain, raising more questions.

"How do you indulge these thoughts, my child?" He inquires, without the chance think of how bad of an idea it is to delve further into this.

"Oh, Father, it's so shameful." You look away and cover your mouth in reluctance to answer, a faint glimmer of forming tears shines in your eyes as the last remnant of your chaste persona disapates.

"It's a very common struggle for young women, there's no need to feel ashamed. Tell me how these desires take hold of you so we can fight your temptation together." In this moment he feels less like the holy man he should be and more like the serpent whispering in your ear, either way your trust is completely in his hands.

"Well sometimes late at night, when praying doesn't work I-" You pause as your breath quickens, admitting your guilt in barely a whisper yet the words seem to echo through the small chapel. "I touch myself..."

John has already anticipated the words before they left your lips, but they still made him shudder with sinful delight. He could pretend this desire inside him didn't have a name or a purpose until now, but it was unmistakably revealed to be the same struggle that you came to him to have forgiven.

"I see..." He replies, tugging at his collar and feeling the sweat begining to dampen it as the air in the small chapel seems to get hotter and fills with a sweet scent that could only be your perfume. "What are your intentions when you 'indulge'? Is it just to relieve your burden or do you let your mind wander?"

"I only wanted to relieve the burden at first, to get it off my mind, but it felt so good to give in, and now I think about him doing all kinds of things to me." The answer comes out between short and shallow breaths, every question answered on the brink of sobbing. "I shouldn't be feeling this way about someone like him, but I can't help it."

Without considering how inappropriate it might be John puts his arm around you, shushing you as he holds you close. From here he can smell your perfume overpowering the chapel incense, creating a sweet aroma that weakened his resolution with every passing breath. His heart races as he wrestles with his own voyeuristic urges while trying to guide you through your own temptation.

"It's alright, I'm here to help, you can trust me." He assures, though the words are more to convince himself than to console you. "The path to absolution is difficult and frightening, but there's no same in walking that road."

With a few deep breaths to collect your emotions you prepare to finish your confession as you wipe the tears from your eyes. "Thank you, Father."

"Now are you ready to tell me more?" He smiles wide, it's meant to be comforting but it stems from the pride he can't help but feel in his ability to make you trust him so easily. "You've tried praying, but when that fails does this indulgence make your thoughts worse, or do you feel too guilty?"

"Well, I suppose it does both." You answer, no less ashamed of your feelings but much more forthcoming with the details he wants to hear. "When finally I give in the guilt makes it so much more intense, then it's so hard to stop. I do it over and over, sometimes for hours at night."

John holds his breath as every secret is shared, the magnitude of this burden is much more than he even could have imagined in his most sinful fantasies. He wants to be there, to watch you writhe, to make you writhe with pleasure and guilt. For a moment he forgets his purpose, having to remind himself that even if he isn't thinking like one that he is still a priest.

"My child, are you familiar with the concept of penance?" He asks as the most perfect plan comes to mind, it is his duty to help and this will benefit both of you.

"Not really." You answer, though unfamiliar you seem relieved to have the end of your burdens in sight.

Excellent.

"I'm determined to help you through this, for your penance I want you to write down every thought you've ever had about this man." He orders, doing his best not to seem too excited to see the results.

A flicker of doubt flashes in your wide eyes, not in his wisdom but in the practicality of this task. "Every one, Father?"

"Yes, and when you've finished bring them to me so I can absolve you." He adds on, hoping the promise of absolution will make your penance easier to accomplish.

"But, Father, what if someone saw what I wrote? What would they think?" You ask, suddenly sounding much more the innocent virgin John thought you were before this.

"I promise to keep everything you write between us and God." His vow is less for your privacy and more for his safety, but he continues to endanger himself in new ways as his intrusive thoughts get the better of him. "And anytime you ever feel the need to 'indulge' again, you have my number. After you pray about it I want you to call me."

"That might be difficult, you see I've been doing it during the day now too." You tell him, your reluctance born from consideration and kindness he no longer deserved. "I wouldn't want to burden you like that, Father."

John shifts in his seat at this revelation, knowing how desperate you are constantly does the opposite of deter him from this task.

"This is your soul at stake, it's my duty to help you any time of the day or night. This is a burden we will bear together." He reassures you as he does his best to hide the eagerness that burns up his entire body. "Can you do this, my child?"

"Yes, Father." You answer, completely unaware of the path he was leading you down.

"I look forward to hearing from you." Perhaps the only honest thing he had said since the begining of this confession.

He rises from the pew, kissing you gently on the forehead before he leaves and letting his lips linger for just a little longer than they should. Leaving you there in the chapel to contemplate the task you're about to undertake, fully believing it would lead to your absolution. You were so easy to convince, the only thing left was for John to convince himself that this was the right thing and not his own indulgence in the same temptation the woman he was supposed to help had battled.

As the day went on, he almost felt regret, and if he would have dwelled on that any longer he would have called you and put an end to this. One thought occupied the forefront of his mind though, the "holy man" you mentioned. It really could have been any member of the church, but it wasn't so farfetched to think it was a priest, why else would you be feeling so much guilt for natural pleasures instead of just persuing them? If it was a priest then it was likely that it was himself you were thinking of, every time you blushed when he smiled at you suddenly made sense.

It's an intoxicating thought that carries him into the night, imagining being the object of your desires. The innocent crush on your priest turning into something far more serious until it consumes you night and day. There was at least one sin he is committing, though he isn't sure if it's pride in himself or lust for you. If he keeps it in the frame of confession he can continue to believe it was neither and he was only guiding this lost lamb into a better understanding of the desires that plagued her.

The hours seem longer, eventually John finds himself alone with nothing to distract him from these thoughts. Staring at his phone across the room long enough that it had felt like it was staring back and judging him. It isn't too late to rectify this. Of course if he stands by the belief that he hadn't made a mistake there's be no need to correct anything, right?

It's pointless going back and forth with himself like this, he's going to be arguing with no one at all for the rest of the night at this rate. He looks around for something to distract him and the second he does the phone rings, the sound of it rattling his very soul.

He picks up the receiver, his voice hardly sounds like his own as he answers sheepishly. "Hello?"

"Father? I'm sorry to call you so late at night, is this a bad time?" Your voice comes like a siren call from the other end of the line.

"Of course not." He answers perhaps a little too cheerfully, he'll have to make an effort to tone his enthusiasm down as he speaks. "How can I help you, my child?"

"It sounds so silly now that I say this out loud, but I was feeling tempted tonight so I started to write down my thoughs like you told me." You begin to explain, building anticipation with every word.

"It's my duty to guide you through your penance no matter how insignificant your troubles seem." He reassures you, those words aren't entirely wrong; that must be why they twist his heart as he says them in this context. "I'm glad to hear you're taking this so seriously, tell me more."

"Well, it's difficult at night, especially when I'm alone with these thoughts." You continue, a slight shaking in your breath that he can almost feel though the phone. "I think writing them down is making it worse."

"You're tempted to 'indulge' again?" He asks, straight to the point."

"Yes, Father." You admit with a sigh of shame. "I'm so sorry."

John shudders at your admission, for a moment he finds himself at a crossroads. One path where he can offer the guidance that you need, that he is vow bound to give you, the other where he can indulge these new intimidating feelings that are brewing deep in his soul. He was so close to either outcome, knowing he's the first person you think of now when you're filled with temptation. Surely it wouldn't hurt his soul or yours if he asked for details. How else would he help you? How else would he help himself?

"There's no need to aplologize." He tells you, his voice low and soft. "You're not alone anymore, I'm here with you. If it's too difficult to write then you can simply tell me now."

"It's just that... I saw him today and I noticed his lips." You begin, bringing images of when he had kissed your forehead after confession to mind. "I thought about how soft they were, and how they would feel on my skin."

"Go on, the more you tell me the more I can absolve." He promises, dangling salvation in front of you like bait.

"I thought of him kissing me, first on my face, then my body, then up my thighs..." You whisper reluctantly at first but slowly getting more comfortable, every word making your confessors head spin.

John takes the phone over to his bed, exhaling deeply as he lays back. Taking a moment to imagine the feel of your thighs, if you would gasp and sigh like this while being kissed in forbidden places, he even swears he can smell your perfume again. He's drowning in these images, fighting to keep himself afloat.

"You're doing great." He praises, knowing exactly how you blush when he compliments you during the day.

A sharp inhale comes from the other line, an indication his manipulations were working. "I wanted his tongue inside me, I wanted him to make me moan and beg..."

With his eyes closed John relishes the sound of your breath as it grows heavier until he can practically feel it warming his ears from over the phone. Doing his best to ignore the tightness growing in his pants as it throbs to the rhythm of your every sweet gasp.

"I just needed him so bad when I wrote this." You confess as the last remnants of your strength waver. "I wanted to touch myself so bad."

For a moment he considers letting you indulge, though he's having trouble coming up with a good excuse for allowing it. What's left of his conscience is telling him to stop, apologize, hang up the phone, take a cold shower, anything to end this while he can. The coiling heat in the pit of his stomach is telling him, begging him to give permission to give in to both your desires, to have them be forgiven after the fact if they're so wrong.

"You need to ease this burden." He tells you as he reaches for the waistband of his pants, trying to hide the tremble in his voice. "It's alright, go ahead."

"Are you sure, Father? Can I?" You ask with no doubt in your voice, only a desperate need for the permission only he can give.

"On one condition," He adds as an involuntary smile creeps on to his face. "You have to tell me every single thought you have while you indulge."

"Yes, Father." You sigh as the sound of rustling fabric comes over the phone. "I can do that."

The touch of his hand on his own skin burns like sweet hellfire, the kind that would strike fear into his heart and make him stray away from any other temptation but this. When he's finally free from the confines of his pants he inhales sharply, facing his own desires head on. There's no denying it now, there's no way out now.

"What are you thinking?" He asks, his breath heavy and voice low.

"I'm- ugh... I'm thinking of... him. Being here, watching me." You whine your confession, struggling to find the words in your sin clouded mind. "Or listening to me..."

That last part makes him shudder, he lets out a long slow exhale away from the receiver to hide his reaction. "And what would 'he' do if he saw you like that?"

"I don't know, but..." Your answer is cut off by a short moan, followed by a few gasping breaths as you regain your composure. "I would be so embarrased, but I think I would like it."

Once again John can't help but cast himself in the role of this mystery man, he almost wants to demand you say his name, to admit that it was him and you were only fulfilling your exibitionist desires. No, he can get more out of you if he continues to be the devoted priest only interested in your soul. He shudders again at the sinful schemes he only now learns he's capable of crafting.

He pulls his mind away from his intentions and focuses on yours. "Is that what you really want? A witness to your sin?"

"I want it so bad." You concede, your moans mix with what sounds like shameful sobs. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

The picture of you with tears streaming down your face, distraught and begging for both attention and absolution is so vivid he can swear it's happening before his eyes. Here he is witnesing you like you wanted, reducing you to a creature of base desires without even touching you. In every way that matters he is this "holy man" you're dreaming of.

"You have nothing to be sorry for anymore." He holds back his own racing breath to instruct you. "Purge these desires as soon as they come."

Wet slopping sounds can be heard over the phone, your moans shift into a higher key before you simply state. "I want more."

The guise of confession is nearly completely stripped away, John can hardly pretend to be the concerned and doting priest as the images conjured up in his head get even more depraved. As he grips the very instrument of his sin tighter he tilts his head up and mouths a silent prayer of forgiveness to the one he hopes isn't watching now.

"You need this, release your burden." He encourages, both you and himself.

"I want him inside me!" You whine, completely undignified as you pour your heart and soul out over the line.

"Good, good..." He pants, your sins merge, making him as much of your victim as you are his. "Tell me all of it."

You immediately obey him without a second thought. "I want him to make me cum... I want him to cum too..."

John groans audibly as your confession gets more and more intense, what's left of his composure is dissolving with every detail revealed. He knows if he were there he could give the real thing to you, and he would let your moans and pleas drag him straight to hell. His hand now seems like a poor alternative to willing body, but he pumps it faster as he chases those forbidden thoughts.

He swallows before simply asking. "Where?"

"Inside me, all over me, anywhere!" You scream deliriously, making it more and more obvious that you're close to the absolution you seek.

With a few whispered curses John lets the images flood his mind, trying to control his movements so he doesn't act that fantasy before you do.

"Ah! I'm almost- Oh! Father!" You call out to him as you fill the receiver with sweet moans he never could have imagined in his most depraved moments.

He waits for the gasps and wet noises to come to a complete halt before he absolves you, but they never stop.

"Are you still there?" He asks with a hint of confusion, waiting with heavy bated breath.

"I made such a mess... if he were here he could clean it up with his tongue..." You tell him with such shameless detail, the confession was not over.

His mouth waters at that thought as he draws in a sharp shaking breath, unable to draw the line between his perverted thoughts and his controlled act he blurts out. "Let your own tongue carry his burden then."

The heavy moans on the other line are muffled, leading John to believe you were licking the sin off your fingers this very moment. He swallows hard and grips his cock tighter with his now shaking hand as he listens closeer.

"More, I want more." You groan desperately into the phone, continuing to indulge.

He sighs your name along with a a few quiet curses. "Is there no end to your cravings?"

"I'm sorry, it just feels so good, I can't stop." You explain, or more accurately whimper.

John can barely hide how he gives in to his own shameful desires, unintentionally letting out noises he had never heard himself make before while he brazenly fucks his own hand. The bed creaks as his hips buck up into the tight grip of his fist, he lulls his head back and wishes it was you.

"Father! Father!" You scream as your second orgasm erupts, loud enough it practically echos through his own bedroom.

"Yes!" He shouts as you both reach the heights of absolute depravity together.

The tension in his body snaps as the sin covers his fingers, he continues to stroke himself until he's too soft and sensitive to indulge anymore. He lays his head back and waits for the weight in his chest to be lifted, but it only weighs heavier with every burst of sacrilegious release.

There is a long pause before either of you speak, it's difficult to find the words, or any words whatsoever. As soon as your breath slows it speeds up again in a panicked realization of what you had done.

"I'm so sorry, I know I should learn to control myself better, I'm so ashamed-" You babble on a long list of regrets that John is far too dazed to listen to now.

"It's alright, it's alright. You're forgiven." He cuts off your hysterical apologies, as soon as the words leave his mouth he feels something twist in the pit of his stomach.

"Thank you, Father." You let out a sigh of relief as you slowly begin to calm down

"Are you going to be okay now?" He asks, showing scraps of genuine compassion he was surprised to find remaining among his selfish desires.

"Yes, Father." You answer, the serenity that comes with absolution apparent in your voice.

He smiles when he hears your reply, finding some solace in the fact that he was able to help in some small way in spite of everything. "Well then, it's getting late. I'll see you on Sunday?"

"Of course." You whisper into the phone before hanging up, the soft words sound like they were meant for a lover and not a man of the cloth. "Goodnight."

When the call ends John holds the phone to his heaving chest, his heart pounding as he sits in silence for what seems like eons with the weight of his actions pressing down on him. He can hardly move just laying there soaking in the stains of his sin, both reveling in the satisfaction and fearing the inevitable consequences.

There were so many times tonight when he could have ended it, so many times this morning when he could have kept this from happening at all. He didn't even know where to begin asking for forgiveness or if he was even sorry.

Sunday. The day couldn't come soon enough and yet it was creeping up on him along with a looming sense of dread knowing he would fail this test of faith again; and again if the opportunity arose. Something dark in his soul hoped that he would get that chance to sin again.

Sleep does not come easily to him that night.

John's dreams are haunted by the vision of a woman, her voice is smooth as she calls out to him, her soft skin burns to the touch but he can't pull his hands away and lets them sear in her embrace. Even in places he had never been touched before the feel of her fingers and her body pressed tightly against his was so real, in such stark contrast to the ever changing fog of the surrounding dream.

Whispering things he had never said, please, more, more. Moving his body in ways he had never tried grinding, writhing, thrusting. It was both liberating and damning, the only other feeling was the sensation of falling, faster and faster even while he was held so tightly. His eyes jolt open when he hits the ground he can't see.

When his body jerks John is thrust into the waking world all at once, longing for a fraction of the warmth he felt seconds ago. His skin is cold, covered in sweat, there's another wetness soaking into the sheets and rapidly cooling under his body.

Grinding his hips forward in a motion he realizes he must have been doing all through his dreams he feels the remnants of desire he did not expect to follow him into the waking world. With an unsteady hand he lifts the covers to inspect the sensation, finding his pants, sheets and even the bottom of his shirt to be marked with several stains made through the night in various stages of drying.

John lets out a shaking gasp as he rolls forward once again, rutting into the soiled mattress and using it as a substitute for the woman in his dream that he now recognizes. He calls her name much quieter than she had called him the night before, whimpering into his pillow like a plea for mercy.

As he reaches into his pajama bottoms he feels the effects of his sin and his cock throbbing for attention, he must have came two or three times in the night and he's still hard as a rock. His face grows hot and he curls up as if to hide while he strokes himself, though there isn't a soul here to witness his indulgence.

It is the shame that makes it more intense, the guilt even more so. Now that John knew you told the truth about this temptation and he had led you again down that path the guilt eats him alive, and he had never felt anything more heavenly. Every little moan he lets out is something between a gasp in surpise at the sensations he feels and a whine of embarrassment as he pumps his fist faster and faster.

The feeling of corruption fills his body and seeps into his bones, it courses through his veins and makes his heart beat like a doom drum, it clouds his mind and stains his very soul like the sheets he's about to ruin completely.

All these conflicting feelings chase each other around like a whirlwind while John races toward the peak of his indulgence, the guilt and the shame follow him wherever his filthy thoughts wander. He thinks of a circle of hell described by Dante meant for those consumed by lust. He thinks of being damned there together with you. He thinks of you. He shudders.

The morning light begins to shine in his room, gently greeting him like an old friend. Staring at the rays of sunlight coming through the window and feeling the full weight of the bags that have formed under his eyes, John is silent in mind and body. There are no racing thoughts, not images of the forbidden, only an all encompassing shame.

His tired gaze turns to the cross hanging above his bed and the feeling grows worse. It's not the image of pure holiness that makes him ashamed, only how near it is. He knows he's not beyond forgiveness, not even now, he just lacks the will to reach out and take it.

John slowly pulls the covers over his body until he can't see it and hides himself between the stained sheets until he finds the will again.

[notmorbid]

demon copperhead, pt. 2.

dialogue prompts from demon copperhead by barbara kingsolver.

i was born to wish for more than i can have.

there's a shoe out there for every foot.

it's important to leave home and take a look around.

i could be very rich if i decide to extort.

i wonder how it would feel to like who you are.

old homecoming queens never die.

who died and left you boss?

sorry to say your secret is out.

i'm gonna see bad spray tans in my nightmares.

nobody rides you like you ride yourself.

i used to think i knew what hurt was.

i don't like owing anybody.

i didn't fully believe you'd come.

i've got a surprise for you later.

does some law say we all turn into our parents?

half of me is sorry. the other half isn't.

don't look for money to buy your life back.

before we were us, we weren't anything.

you look like a plaid pillow.

i thought i knew it all, in those days.

people find more ways to shut up their monsters than a bible has verses.

let's go steal a tree.

the tall weed gets cut.

a kid in my shoes takes what power they can find.

the moon went to bed already, so what's wrong with us?

i'm a horrible person. the sooner you realize that, the better off you'll be.

you're too good for me. i don't deserve you.

it wasn't a secret, i just knew you wouldn't like it.

you use what you've got.

my stomach feels like i've been eating rusty nails.

some good's been known to come out of bad luck, if you face it head on.

where is the motherfucking compassion?

this is still your home, if you want to stay.

the adult in my life is me.

you look like you've seen the dead.

we were kids playing house.

come hang out any time. i could stand the company.

you have to quit being so nice to people.

i'm not one to shut any doors.

i cannot get the hang of living alone.

you should be as mad as i am.

do you want to sleep tonight, or do you want the truth?

they did this to us. you understand that, right?

of all the good people i know, you're probably the best one.

everybody needs to dump on somebody.

i've lived long enough to know that shit doesn't really bounce off.

kids aren't the problem. it's parents.

the only person you need to worry about is yourself.

i have my own honor.

part of being a mature person is knowing your skillset.

another week, another shitshow.

feel free to have a look around.

the support has to run both ways.

good people don't give up on the ones they love.

i've stayed alive so far by staying on my own feet.

i need you to wake up. sit up. we have to talk.

i love you. i would never, ever want to hurt you.

i want to draw your hands.

it's sunday. everyone's either in church or sleeping off their sins.

i want to kill you, but i'm not going to let you die.

are you testing me? or do you really not know?

if wishes were horses, we'd all have different shit to shovel.

a fallen hero shatters into more sharp pieces than you'd believe.

i thought i'd be better off without the fear.

there'll be no getting over this.

a selfish heart will keep you alive, at least.

a snake with venom is gonna bite.

going nowhere fast is a kind of juice.

trust the road, because nobody stays.

in the long run you're on the road with your ghosts. you're the ship, they're the bottle.

rehab is like being married to sickness in a lot of ways, really.

a good story doesn't just copy life, it pushes back on it.

you never were one to fall only halfway down the well, were you?

i let you go. it's what i had to do.

[sumsworldz]

Let me be your sin

Ellie williams x fem reader

Summary: You lived in an extremely homophobic town in the 80s, you never really thought anything of it. Being homophobic was right, or so you thought

Note: first fic please be kind!! 😞😞 Contains a lil bit of sexual content ( most likely will be smut in future chapters ) swearing, homophobia!! ( all to do with the plot ) ermm that's all I can think of but it they're is anything I missed please let me know it's highly appreciated!!

Wc: 1.6k

you went outside to look for some flowers for your art project, you roamed the familiar streets until you found the forest you and your friends normally hung out in.

The leaves crunched as you walked upon them, not minding your surroundings, you were to focused on finding the perfect flower.

As you walked, calm silence filled the air, the only sound was the crunch of the leaves and the occasional bird chirping. When all of a sudden you felt an arm snake around your waist and before you could respond to the situation, the person pinned up against a tree.

"Ellie?" you looked at the auburn haired girl in front of you "I gotcha good!" Ellie exclaimed,, "very funny, very funny but I need to get some materials for my art project" you say as you look at her, something felt different.

"wait no-" Ellie cuts you off "stay here"

,, "what?"you said quietly. Ellie leaned in closer as one of her arms were still snaked around your waist, the other had you pushed up against the tree. This wasn't normal, not for a girl.

She leaned in closer and mumbled "Let me be your sin" she said it quietly but loud enough for you to hear. "Ellie- what-" before you could fully answer Ellie cut you off by her lips connecting with yours. You blushed like crazy, this isn't normal but god it feels right.

She pulled away looking at you, you looked back at her "so?" She mumbled "Ellie.." you sighed "this isn't right" "but it can be"

Her words caught you off guard "Ellie I mean, if we get caught-" "we wont" she said sternly "I promise"

You sighed as you looked around "my mom said I need to be home in an hour" Ellie looked into your eyes, she was quite surprised you were alright with this "I can make it quick"

with that she started to bite down on your neck, you started to breathe heavier with anticipation. You never thought you would do this, let alone with a girl but it felt so right.

She continued to leave trails all down your neck as she moved to your breast, you blushed as she spoke "can I, I don't wanna make u uncomfortable or" "ellie please" you mumbled as you put your hands in her hair "yes mam" she said sarcastically which made you giggle.

Before she could even start, you realised that kids hung around in these parts often. "Your so pretty" Ellie mumbled as her hand was holding onto the waistband of your bra, you knew you had to stop although you knew deep down you wanted this so bad. "Ellie.." you said quietly "mm?" ,, "I need to go"

And with that all the anticipation and neediness left the air, only confusion.

"Whats up?" Ellie asked quietly as she slowly let go of you completely. "I just remembered that my mom actually wants me home now" you lied "oh.. alright, well I'll see you around?" Ellie sighed, clearly dissapointed in the whole situation "yeah, bye ellie" you then walked off as she stood there.

You didn't want to leave her there, you wanted to finish what you both started, but you couldn't. You knew this was wrong and that if anyone caught you guys or found out, you would be in serious trouble.

You made it back home and unlocked your front door, you took your shoes off and walked into the living room to see your mom reading the bible, as per usual.

"Hey sweetie" she said quietly as she looked up from her book "you took awhile, did you find a flower" you completely forgot. "couldn't find one, I guess I'll just have to create one in my mind" ,, "I guess so, well get ready for church alright? Change your oufit too, maybe something more dressy?" she asked.

You rolled your eyes and mumbled "fine" as you walked out of the room, your mom was very Christian and if you weren't following any of the rules your mom would be furious. As for you, you only believed to make your mom happy.

When you made it to your room and started to take of your t-shirt and shorts by replacing it with a long dress. You hated the way your mom made you dress.

Once finished you then started to listen to music on your walkman, your mom wasn't the biggest fan of the music you listened to but you didn't care. You had posters all over your wall, depeche mode, nirvana, or just movies you watched. What you never realised is the amount of girls you had all over your wall. You didn't know who half of them were but you found them pretty and stuck them on your wall, normal behaviour for a girl hm?

You started to think about what you and Ellie had done, it felt so right and normal, she was extremely pretty too, but you wouldn't let yourself take this further it was against the laws but god you wanted too.

As you thought about the situation further your heard your doorbell ring it caught you by suprise."ill get it!" You exclaimed as you took your headphones off and ran down stairs.

You opened the front door to a familiar face "Ellie?" You questioned "can I come in?" you stayed silent unsure of what to say "please" she sighed, you could tell by her tone she was quite desperate and if you stayed at the door to long your mom would question it "fine but make it quick" you say short toned.

Ellie made it to your bedroom and sat down your bed making herself at home, she came around to your house often and it wasn't normally akward but this time was different.

You walked over and sat next her unsure of what to say until she spoke "listen, I'm sorry about what I done I really didn't mean-" Ellie spoke but you cut her off "no Ellie it's fine, honestly?" You said tone quite annoyed "no but seriously I'm sorry okay? I got ahead of myself" you couldn't help but blush at ellies words, you let out a short chuckle "you got ahead of yourself? So you've been thinking about this" you tease, you were still annoyed at the situation itself but couldn't help but tease Ellie about it, she's your bestfriend after all.

"What- no I didnt mean it like that, fuck" Ellie mumbled which made you laugh "so your into women huh?" You said bluntly which caught Ellie of guard "uhm- I mean, I'm not aloud too" Ellie sighed. You wanted to comfort her tell her it was aloud and that she would find love but you knew deep down society didn't accept people who loved like that.

"I'm sorry" you sighed. Your window was open and the chill breeze made ellies hair move slightly, she looked pretty even when she was upset, but you didn't like her, you weren't aloud too.

"No it's okay alright? I made a stupid mistake and i don't want this to impact our friendship" Ellie spoke as she fidgeted with the rings on her fingers, you sighed and told her "it won't" you wanted to say more but you just couldn't find the right words.

As silence filled the air you spoke up "I have to go to church soon, you can come if you want too I'm sure my mom won't mind" you looked at Ellie and she looked at you and that's when you realised that this feeling wasn't friendship, it was different, but you knew that they wouldn't go away unless you put up with them.

Ellie nodded and then spoke "yeah sure but uhm by the way.. you have a hickey on your neck" she giggled as she maintained eye contact with you. You immediately blushed as you looked up at her "what?!" you exclaimed "Ellie if my mom sees this she's gonna kill me!!" "Relax, relax, come here" you moved closer to Ellie as she looked around "got any concealer?" you nodded and pointed towards your desk.

Ellie got up and walked over to your desk picking up the nearly empty concealer bottle "you know, you dont need makeup" she said casually "well I do, to cover up mistakes like this" that caught Ellie of guard, I mean yeah the hickey was a mistake but did you really have to say it?

Ellie sat back down as she sat close to you and then applied the concealer on the hickey "you know, there's quite a phew" she giggled which made u blush even more "Ellie!! Seriously? Why are you only telling me now!!" You said playfully in which she replied "might aswell show them off" she was playing with fire here, ellie was making it extremely clear she didn't regret the situation at all.

"Your such a dork williams" you teased as she closed the bottle of concealer "and you love it" she finished and got up "well, let's forget about the situation mm?" She asked in which you nodded, the cool breeze filled your bedroom and your curtains swayed, you got up and looked at Ellie "well cmon, we gotta go to church"

You both walked out of your room and in that moment you both knew you had sinned, you felt like you should be ashamed but you weren't. it was for the right reasons, sometimes you can't hold back atleast not when a pretty girl is practically begging for your attention.

[shion-yu]

Saint Valentine's Day

Snzblr Valentine for @onetrickponi featuring their OCs Tíbor and Hazel! I really hope you enjoy this and it’s in character - I’m so sorry if it’s off (I know Tíb is super grumpy here and does Tíbor drink/sleep?? Idk but he does today) or too similar to your Christmas wav, it was supposed to be a drawing but it just wasn’t working out. If I ever get happy with the drawing I’ll letcha know tho ;) Thank you so much for organizing this @sneezydarliing!

Hazel thinks Valentine's Day should be a safe holiday. All the "Saint" in the Saint Valentine part has been long since replaced with the glamours of capitalism, so she doesn't expect it'll be as rough on Tíbor as Christmas was. She's hopeful, really hopeful as she does her hair into a twisted braid and ties it at the end. It's when she emerges from the bedroom that she hears it.

“Hiit-chooo! He’unggh-CHOO!... Ehhnngch... Hnngh-SHIEW!”

Yikes. Definitely Tíbor, and definitely the same brand of breathless sneezing that he displayed around the Christmas holidays. Hazel opens the study door to find him huddled in the dark with a soaked handkerchief to his nose. The curtains are closed, but the daylight is enough that she can still see him well. He's hunched at the top of the couch with a blanket around his shoulders and he looks goddamn awful. 

“Hhi-TSHEW! Snnk. Guh. Don't you know how to knock?" Tíbor squints at her, a dirty expression on his face. 

"It's my place, freeloader," she says, crossing her arms and smirking. "Valentine's Day isn't even religious anymore. I thought Jesus would spare you this time."

"The origins of the day are still religious," Tíbor snaps back, shooting her a glare. "Don't you have somewhere to be that's not watching me sn... Snee... SnUHT’DSHhhuih!"

"Ouch,” Hazel comments.

Tíbor groans and rubs his nose which already looks raw and red. The onslaught of sneezes makes him cough roughly; Hazel can tell he's already sneezed himself half hoarse. 

"Tíb, maybe getting out of this room will help," Hazel suggests. "It's so... Cave like in here. Some fresh air might do you good."

Tíbor snorts rudely, and wetly. "Unless we're going to a Bible burning, I'll pass. I'm not exactly in the mood for other people." His nose scrunches up, his eyes squinting, and Hazel knows he's about to start again. He keeps taking shaky, sharp gasps like he's about to, but then nothing happens.

"It's better to let it out," she points out.

"Like it's my choice," Tíbor snaps. "Fuck you - HeHh’UuSHHHuh! Atchhhh...Heitt’CHIUU!"

"There you go,” Hazel says approving at the tremendous sneeze that Tíbor finally manages to release. “Doesn't that feel better?"

"Fuck you," Tíbor repeats solemnly. His eyes look swollen and Hazel feels just a touch of sympathy for him.

"You need to come up with some new comebacks," Hazel says. "Fuck you is getting really lame." She bounds off to the bathroom, where she can still hear Tíbor sneezing tremendously in the other room, poor guy. She finds a box of tissues under the sink and brings it to Tíbor, who's blowing his nose into his soaked handkerchief. "Toss that," she says distastefully. "It's not doing you any good at this point." She hands him the box of tissues, which Tíbor quickly utilizes.

“Nngxxxth! Nngu’zzetCh! Hizzz’shhiu! Ett’NGXTIU!”

"Holy shit," Hazel says. "Ah, sorry. Just shit. Plain, non-holy shit." She giggles a little despite Tíbor's look of disgust. 

"I'm glad this is funny to you," he snaps. "No really. I'm so, so... Glad... Ht'kshht!"

"Alright, that's enough," she sighs, sitting on the edge of the couch and handing him a tissue. "I'm sure you're miserable, so just relax. Do you need anything? Besides this day to be over."

Tíbor blows his nose and then coughs a few times into the tissue. He doesn't have quite the same presence to him when he's like this, Hazel thinks to herself. "Dunno,” he groans.

"Tea?" 

"...If you think it'd help."

"Tea always helps," Hazel said confidently, although she wasn't so sure how demon biology worked. Then again, tea was about comfort more than anything for humans anyways, so it should work the same. She stood to go make him some in the kitchen. "Wait here."

"Not going anywhere," Tíbor replies sarcastically. Indeed, she knows he doesn't move because she can hear him sneezing from the bedroom the entire time she brews them each a cup of black tea. When she returns Tíbor looks exhausted. "This is your fault," he accused her. "I wouldn't have to be here still if you just made up your mind."

"Fine. I wish you'd stop sneezing before your brains drip out of your nostrils, assuming you actually have a brain. That good enough?" 

"No." 

"Didn't think so. Drink up."

Tíbor manages about half the cup before he shoves it hastily in Hazel's direction. "Hazel, I'm gonna-" She barely grabs the cup away from him before he starts sneezing again.

“Hhh-hekgxt! KeTCHhhsu! ETCHhhhiu! Ha-ETCSCHEW!!"

"Gesundheit," Hazel says. 

"Thought you said tea would help," Tíbor whined, sniffling into yet another tissue. He's going through them like hot cakes.

"So finish yours," Hazel says, handing the cup back to him. "It's tea though, it's not a sedative." 

"That would be fucking amazing," Tíbor mutters. He finished the cup anyways. His eyes are drooping tiredly. 

Hazel takes the empty mug away from him and places it on the bedside table. "Have you rested at all?"

"Not really," Tíbor says. "Haven't been able to stop - nn'gshhu!! - sneezing."

"Thanks for the demonstration," Hazel smirks. "Why don't you get some sleep?" 

Tíbor yawns. "You sure that tea wasn't a sedative?" He asks, lying down on the couch. "Made me kinda sleepy." 

"It's just comforting like that," Hazel informs him. 

She stands up, ready to start her own day that doesn't involve babysitting a sneezing demon. She walks to the door, two empty mugs in hand, and is nearly gone when she hears a very small, "Thanks," from under the covers.

Hazel bites her lip and smiles. "No problem. Sleep well, Tíb."

[scribeforchrist-blog]

Holding on To Half 

MEMORY VERSE OF THE WEEK

=========================

+ Psalm 46:5 God is within her; she will not fall; God will help her at break of day.”

=========================

VERSE OF THE DAY 

========================

+ Proverbs 15:22 Plans fail for lack of counsel, but with many advisers they succeed.

=========================

** SAY THIS BEFORE YOU READ; HERE’S SOME CHRISTIAN TRUTHS **

I AM COMPLETE

I AM FINISHING THE TASK 

I AM FOCUSED ON GOD 

I AM FILLED WITH JOY 

********************************

THOUGHTS:

=======================

   Sometimes, when we have a chorus to do, we get halfway into it, we don’t want to finish it or get a prescription for medication, and once we feel better, we stop taking it or when we are about to clean up the living room, we only vacuum and don’t dust; we don’t do anything else because we don’t feel like going the extra mile to complete what we must do. We all have done half of something and called it a day, and sometimes, that disrupts our plans for another day because we must pick up where we left off, and we get so aggravated that we won't even try anymore to complete the task at hand.

   We often see what Jesus is doing, and we think this isn’t enough, so we doubt that he can handle the things we want , but whatever Jesus is doing in our life, he is doing it for a reason. Whatever he does, he isn’t going halfway; Jesus never does anything halfway; maybe we only get half because that's all he wants us to have,; a lot of us don’t stop and look at what we are doing because we are too busy pointing the finger at Him then to point the finger at ourselves.

  God wants us to know that everything he did, he did everything to help us, sustain us, and push us through. I can remember I felt so tired for several days, and I asked the Holy Spirit . I said Holy Spirit ; I feel so tired. I said this must be a spiritual attack , and he told me no, Lui, this isn't spiritual; you're not sleeping the way you should. I was ready to point the finger and not look at myself, and I immediately realized that sometimes we all do this. We are ready to blame others for something we are doing. This has happened so many times in the bible, and many of us are doing this now; we won't ask God to help us where we are because we don’t want to blame ourselves for what we are doing; look at Cain.

  Genesis 4:10 The Lord said, “What have you done? Listen! Your brother’s blood cries out to me from the ground. 11 Now you are under a curse and driven from the ground, which opened its mouth to receive your brother’s blood from your hand. 

   He didn’t look at his mistake in this; he looked at Able and immediately became angry because he felt that Abel was favored, and he wasn’t. Abel's sacrifice was accepted because he did what was right; he didn’t make his sacrifice halfway; maybe Cain did it out of laziness, maybe he thought what he gave would slide , maybe because he thought God would accept this, but just like God doesn’t do anything halfway in our life, we shouldn’t do anything in our life or for him halfway this is also a good example of only giving God half of what he is due, some of us only give him half of our selves, some of us give half of our lives as a sacrifice when we should give it all to him.

     When will we ever stop looking at others and their circumstances and look at what we can do for our lives? Many of us have this bad; we are so ready to point to the sky and fuss with God, but have we prayed, worshiped, or praised God? A lot of us won't do any of this and then we ask God why does this person have, but we aren’t looking at the small praise or the half praise we give; we got to start giving more of ourselves to him; we got to start taking accountability and stop using God or anything as a scapegoat to our failure to be dedicated to what is right.

    Mark 8:23-24 He took the blind man by the hand and led him outside the village. When he spit on the man’s eyes and put his hands on him, Jesus asked, “Do you see anything?”24 He looked up and said, “I see people; they look like trees walking around.”

    One day, Jesus went to heal a man, and when he did, Jesus made mud over the guy's eyes. He said what do you see the man said everyone looks like trees walking around, Jesus could’ve left him seeing everyone like this; he could’ve said Well, this is what you have. I'm done for today, or he could’ve even said Well, at least you can see something; he could’ve done this halfway. Still, Jesus doesn’t do anything halfway; he doesn’t bless us or free us halfway; the reason why some of us don’t have everything we won't because maybe it isn’t our season, maybe it isn’t what God wants us to have right now but maybe later he will give us what we want but Jesus doesn’t do anything halfway and neither should we but look at what Jesus does after this.

 Verse 25-26 Once more, Jesus touched the man’s eyes. Then his eyes were opened, his sight was restored, and he saw everything. 26 Jesus sent him home, saying, “Don’t even go into the village.”

   He goes back, and he stores the man's sight; he saw everything; this is what Jesus wants to do in some of our lives right now; he wants us to see the sin in our lives; he wants us to see him clearly, and he wants us to walk in it but what happens is we don’t want the full touch of Jesus because we know once we have it we will see what we are doing and how we handling things aren’t the way Jesus wants us to handle it.

    This week, we talked about being on fire for God having a big blaze; we can't have a big blaze if we are halfway doing anything or won't take accountability for our actions, and once we have this big blaze, the desire for God will grow ,the desire to dwell where he is will grow ,because we are finally allowing God to be enough and letting go of the things of this world, what are we doing to capture our blaze are we dwelling in his presence ,are we allowing him to feed us spiritually with his word ,or do we doubt his ability to be enough where ever you are in life every day ask God what is it that you can work on to change what you're doing and he will help you.

     *** Today, we talked about taking accountability and finishing what we have started; a lot of us have gifts and talents that God has given us, and we won't use them; we only use them when we feel like it; some of us have blessings that we feel are incomplete, but they're not, God is going to give us what he feels we can handle and give us what we need, sometimes we have to stop looking at maybe it’s this or that and say no maybe its me , I cannot commit to something real and true, sometimes committing scares some of us even in the smallest way we get so scared because we don’t want to break it or we don’t want to mess up.

    We all will stumble and have problems, and that’s why God is there to show us the way. A lot of times, we don’t want him to because we don’t think he’ll understand or that he’ll do it right. Still, whatever God does in our life, we must understand he's doing it for us, not to hurt us but to help us along the way; this week's lessons have taught us so much, and the one thing we can take away from theses devotionals is that we need to dwell. We need to be satisfied only by Jesus, not in other things but in him. ©Seer~ Prophetess Lee

========================

PRAYER

========================

Heavenly Father, help us hear you when you speak and help us take accountability for our actions, not doing anything halfway but doing it with all our hearts. God, we give you everything, and we ask you to show us our errors; lord, we thank you for allowing us to understand your word this week; we ask you to show us the way into your presence; lord, we praise you for the good and the bad. God, thank you for always showing us the way and helping us. In Jesus' Name Amen 

========================

REFERENCES 

========================

+ Proverbs 27:17 As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another.

 

+ Romans 14:12 So then, each of us will give an account of ourselves to God.

 

+ Proverbs 15:22 Plans fail for lack of counsel, but with many advisers they succeed.

========================

FURTHER READINGS 

=========================

Proverbs 29

Job 22

Isaiah 29

2 Thessalonians 1

=========================

[ghnosis]

my spoiler-free review of RHRH, a neutral-to-negative take

most important point: I had fun at the ghovie

there are not plot spoilers below, but if you want to go in totally totally blind, don't read below the cut!

important note: I don't care for the Chapters. I don't watch them, they're not my kind of humour. I was curious to see how Tobias would spin the ghovie - most people aren't aware of the Chapters or of the entirety of the backstory, and most people won't care about that stuff. my biggest question going in was how is Tobias going to make the die hard fans happy AND make this an accessible experience for the more casual fan?

spoiler alert: in my opinion, he didn't! the Guardian review is evidence of this, though its tone is typically pissy. RHRN is weighted towards the big-time ghestie.

there was a brief attempt at the beginning to explain the legacy of the Emeritus family, but it outright states that Nihil was "the first one," which ("my father's father's father-") isn't the case. oversimplication for the sake of runtime, sure, fine, but I have OCD and this stuff bugs me.

as a concert film, RHRN fails for me. eyeing the runtime and my knowledge of shows, I figured RHRN would start with 25ish minutes of silly Chapter skit stuff, then 2 hours of ritual. I assumed this order would be good for physical/streaming sales - if you put all the stuff nobody but the die-hards care about in the beginning, it's easily skippable. nope! the chapter/skit stuff is throughout the film, breaking the immersion of the concert experience.

I use Green Day's Bullet in a Bible as a measuring stick for this sort of thing: watching Bullet in a Bible does feel like seeing an enhanced experience of a Green Day show. watching Nirvana on MTV Unplugged feels like (I imagine - I was a toddler at the time) seeing Nirvana play live. hell, watching Riding in Vans with Boys feels like seeing blink-182 live. I want a concert film to give me a better angle of the show itself than I could ever possibly see live, plus some behind the scenes stuff. I don't feel like RHRN provides a good ritual experience. one thing I personally think about a lot in this fandom is the multimodality - we can't all afford to go to a ritual, especially as Ghost plays huger and huger arenas. if you were hoping RHRN would be like a recorded ritual, it is not. this feels like a big missed opportunity to me.

the sound mixing is not what I would expect from a film like this. I saw RHRN in a theater where I also saw Dune II and a few Star Wars. I literally had a headache leaving Dune bc it was too loud. but RHRN was too quiet. there is no sense of "wall of sound" in the recording, which fucking sucks; this is a mixing/editing issue. every time I turn on American Idiot or Bullet in a Bible, my ears get blown clean off. hell, every time I turn on Impera, my ears get blown off. this is possible! it just wasn't done here.

the film editing is erratic. shots were sort of stapled together - one moment it would be a Dewdrop solo and then two seconds later he was somewhere else on stage entirely, or ghouls had moved around behind him in a way that broke my flow. for a stage show as choreographed as Ghost's, this seems weird at best. I'm willing to concede that I have OCD and stuff like this might bother me way more than it bothers you... but I heard murmurings of similar opinions as we all left the theater.

the camera doesn’t linger on an individual Ghoul or Papa as long as it should. the distribution of Ghoul time on screen is also... odd? Dewdrop takes center stage, with Phantom/Aeon a close second. Mountain lovers got great food. there was.... okay? Cumulus content. I felt a distinct lack of Cirrus, Aurora and Swiss. we were denied any shimmies!!! as we were leaving I heard someone say "I starved." there was not enough swiggity swooty.

the erratic editing also means you really can't focus on your fave ghoul, because the close-ups keep moving around. Dewdrop hand lovers, you will eat. Rain only gets a big-deal closeup during "Con Clavi," which is to be expected but is also a bummer. we do get the classic Dew pissy pick throw, a middle finger, and a flash of YouSuck, but the ghoul on ghoul interaction isn't really present in the film. each ghoul felt isolated to me; the interaction is what I love at a Ghost show.

the crowd shots are gorgeous but are also inauthentic to my experience as a Ghost fan - lot of really conventionally pretty gender conforming white women in the audience. "it's hollywood, blah blah-" shut up. the experience of looking around my theater at all the beautiful true humanity was way more fun than the crowd I saw on screen. any Ghost show I've ever gone to has literally every possible segment of humanity in it. SHOW ME THE QUEERDOS TOBIAS. WE PAY YOUR MORTGAGE. there *is* one person in makeup and braces who I loved, and there's one long shot of a face literally just like :O during I think Cirice? which, mood.

credit where it's due: there is a truly cool effect where Häxan (1922) is showing interspersed/on top of the band playing "Year Zero." this ruled. it felt like it took editing hints from Bram Stoker's Dracula, the movie of all time for me. "Twenties" ruled. "If You Have Ghosts" was fucking haunting - that (opera?) singer was incredible. wished I saw her name!! cello ghoulettes 100/10. skeleton dancers 1000/10. they put their whole pussies into it. there are a ton of waving Plushias and Popias and they all look as off-brand as possible, which is great.

tl;dr. RHRN fails as a concert movie for me, but going to get my little popcorn bucket and sippy cup, and picking an outfit, and seeing all the ghesties in our finery at the theater was fun!!! the air in the theater felt like the air before a ritual. hearing people giggle at the jokes, even jokes that didn't land for me, was fun. hearing the reaction to the plot stuff was fun. if you are a casual Ghost enjoyer, I don't recommend seeing the movie - but if you hate the Chapters but like Ghost, I don't think the chapter parts will be too much/too prevalent for you to enjoy it. try to go when the theater is full, so you can get the best experience possible.

[beanghostprincess]

Opinions on Sanuso ?? 😁

this is like asking jesus his opinions on the bible but okay i'll answer your silly question (-> said by someone literally desperate to answer this question. thank you.)

sanuso, to me, is the most domestic and realistic ship when it comes to sanji. of course, usopp too, but i'm focusing on the one who has more ships than fights in this show. dude is shipped with everybody (as he should be. sanji deserves all the love). what i mean by this, is that their personalities match perfectly:

they're both insecure and have self-worth issues, but cope with them in different ways, and the reason why they're like that is their different but oddly similar pasts if you think about it!!

sanji has... a fair amount of trauma. my poor boy. he was born into a family that constantly told him he was weak and undeserving of love. he was abused, physically and mentally, and he lost the only one who truly made him happy. then he finally made it to the east blue, but even if zeff's a great father (we love you, king) his views on strength and masculinity obviously had a lot to do with sanji's personality. he had to learn to cope in silence, to deal with pain like a man, and to sacrifice himself for others every damn time, not only because he's too kind for his own good, but also because he doesn't think he deserves to be a priority.

on the other hand, usopp was born into a loving family, but his father and role model disappeared and his mom died when he was still very, very young. he had to cope on his own, but at least he had kaya. and the village. right? however, he has spent his whole life pretending and lying and not acting like himself because he doesn't like himself. because he dreamt of bigger things and he was nothing compared to the fantasies he told kaya about.

sanji is the dream usopp seeks, and usopp is the domesticity sanji needs.

sanji sacrifices himself and deals with pain in silence like a man. usopp lies and hides and runs from the truth because he thinks he's not good enough.

so here we have these idiots who do not love themselves but love everyone else with the biggest hearts we've ever seen.

and, you know, people don't ship sanuso as much as they ship other pairings. and i'm not gonna go into the whole "actually, usopp's ships are underrated because usopp himself is underrated and it has to be with him not following stereotypes and normativity regarding his looks and personality in shonen manga" but it's literally just that. i'm so, so sure the ship would be more popular if people actually stopped and valued usopp more... not gonna go into this. sorry. i just love him too much to not defend him to death all the time.

so... the thing about sanuso that makes them so special to me:

they understand and complement each other in a way i think no other mugiwara would understand, and they know how to deal with each other's pain.

(i know this is just my opinion and not an analysis, but i'm annoying when it comes to sanuso so i'm just gonna keep writing until my hands fall off!)

their personalities are... different. like. not "opposites attract different" but... different.

sanji masks his insecurities by acting like the gentleman he already is. he just hides his past and, when the situation comes, he always sacrifices himself but never says the reason why. he covers the fact that he sees himself as undeserving of living and being a priority by putting others first, using his "prince-like/gentleman" facade. we see this with women, mostly, but he's always giving and never taking. he isn't selfish. in fact, he's selfless to a worrisome extent (thriller bark, for example. skypiea, too). but he masks all of this just by saying he's strong enough to take it! man enough to protect everyone! and both can coexist, but it's pretty obvious that he wants to feel useful and loved and the use of self-sacrifice shows us both at the same time.

usopp, on the other hand? he's more fond of running away from his problems and hiding and using his "god/warrior" facade to cover all of his hatred for himself. hatred that not only comes from his past, but also from being surrounded by men who are stronger to an insane extent that's even weird in the anime fantasy world they're in. of course he feels insecure! he's not selfish, per se, but he's kind of a coward and he has this survivor's instinct that sanji lacks. but also, when the time comes, his own morality and good heart make him act beyond that instinct and he's the one to save the ones weaker than him (dressrosa).

okay, so, they both feel very insecure. sanji about his masculinity and worth, and usopp about his strength and bravery. sanji deals with it by self-sacrificing himself and using his gentleman facade, and usopp does the same by lying and running away. sanji doesn't fear death if it's to protect others, and usopp is scared of dying but he would fight against it in some cases for the same reason.

this is why i think they understand each other on a deep, intimate level that other mugiwaras don't get. water 7 is the best example of this, and it will forever be (along with skypiea) the best arc to explain why sanuso works so well. i honestly miss pre time-skip sanuso. they were so, so good...

and it's not only that they understand each other deeply, but the fact that they know how to work with it! their personalities match so well...

sanji thinks before acting and makes plans and his whole life is this complex recipe he has used ever since he was a kid to achieve the expectations of others, hiding his past and his fears. sanji understands people. he can read them well and knows how to approach them with a gentle, caring behavior. he's a sweetheart. he sees somebody suffering and goes to help. or, you know, he can also be a bastard and act on impulse but that's him too, isn't he? (by the way, not gonna mention zosan's dynamic here because that's a complete analysis of them also and it would make this thing longer). his actions are thoughtful but they're led by emotions and empathy mostly.

usopp is more logical and anxious, though. he thinks things through and tries to find the better outcome for himself and whoever he's trying to save, but it isn't really helpful the fact that he's an anxious guy with the constant fear of failure and hurting himself or being seen as weak. but he approaches problems nevertheless when he needs to, and he understands people and gives them what they need at the moment, if that makes any sense.

sanji needs somebody who will understand him but also will give him what he needs at the moment, and usopp needs somebody who's thoughtful and will see beyond his insecurities. that's why they work!!! they make me ill!!!

they're, for me, one of the best ships because they can talk things out. well, of course, sanji's repressed ass would have thousands of issues with liking a boy and also with opening up to somebody. but after seeing usopp is the same as him? after noticing that usopp's just pretending to be confident and he's also worried about what sanji thinks of him? it's beautiful. they could have, as a couple, such a deep connection!!

sanji knows usopp can protect himself but still helps him out all the time because of fear of losing him, and usopp gives sanji enough space to let him open up without suffocating him. they don't rush things. their thing happens naturally. gradually. it's slow and gorgeous and sometimes a bit angsty from both sides, but... it's the magic of a relationship turning into romantic when it used to be only a friendship. i love them so much!!!!! aghhhhhhhh *bangs head against concrete floor*

not to mention, also, that their canon dynamic is hilarious. usopp taking care of sanji at gyojin island when he's being uh.... all over the place with women, but also being done with his behavior is so married couple coded. and also, their whole thing ever since they've known each other is so so funny. because usopp can be as chaotic as luffy sometimes, when he's actually a very logical guy (he loses brain cells when he's around luffy and chopper istg), and sanji has to deal with it. and sanji is calm and collected but a fucking mess when it comes to feelings and love and usopp has to be the one to ground him. also, usopp teases him constantly when he flirts with women.

and, idk, their whole relationship feels very domestic and beautiful to me, especially after skypiea and water 7. i really do miss them there!! they're still boyfriends, though.

and also... gonna go into mbti stuff right now, kay? i love, love, LOVE sanji being an enfj and usopp being an entp:

-> ENTPs and ENFJs are both Extroverted, Intuitive personalities, meaning they tend to enjoy being around others and focusing on the big picture. However, ENTPs are also logical thinkers, who enjoy pursuing new experiences, while ENFJs are empathetic and prefer following set schedules. ENTP personalities should engage in casual, personal conversation with ENFJs, while ENFJs should communicate clearly and logically around ENTPs. -> ENTPs should be sensitive to ENFJs’ feelings by addressing issues gently and helping ENFJs feel safe enough to share their thoughts openly. ENFJs should work to focus carefully on the facts of the situation and avoid overly emotional expressions around ENTPs.

NOT TO MENTION SANJI IS 1W2 AND USOPP IS 6W7 AND THEY MAKE ME GO INSANE CRAZY I'M UNWELL-

but yeah, you can say i like sanuso a fair, normal amount! :)

(i'm not normal)

i just love how domestic and genuine their ship feels. because unlike their other ships, focusing mainly on either sexual tension or painful pining and devotion, these two have such a natural and sweet dynamic... it kind of reminds me to usopp and kaya, too! perhaps that's why it works so well (in this blog we support and love both ships. usopp has two hands!).

10/10 great awesome ship. they give spiderman x gwen stacy but maybe that's just me and my fantasies of them doing the spider-kiss with sogeking.

[fuwaprince]

On May 5th, 1962 Malcolm X said in Los Angeles during his Who Taught You To Hate Yourself speech:

"In order for you and me to devise some kind of method or strategy to off-set some of the events, or repetition of the events, that have taken place here in Los Angeles recently, we have to go to the root. We have to go to the cause. Dealing with the condition itself isn't enough. We have to get to the cause of it all or the root of it all. And it is because of our effort toward getting straight to the root that people often times think we are dealing in hate."

"Excuse me if I say so-called... it's hard for me to just outright say 'Negro' when I know what that word 'Negro' really means."

"Here your mother is being raped and you're not supposed to be emotional. Your women can't walk the street without some cracker putting his hands on her and you're not supposed to be emotional. If you say this, you're fed up"

"Twenty million black people don't even know their own language. Why? Because he took it away from them. Twenty million black people who don't even know the history of their ancestors. Why? Because he took it away from them. And if you're trying to tell them how thoroughly and completely they've been robbed, he says you're preaching hate. That's something to think about. Today you are coming out of college. You are coming out of the leading universities. You're trying to go in a good direction but you don't know which direction to go in. And if somebody tries to take you right to the root of your problem, they say that that man is a hate teacher."

"And then again if we tell you that 'Negros' are being hung on the tree or being shot down illegally, unjustly and those 'Negros' should do something to protect themselves, they say you're advocating violence. The white man is TRICKING YOU. He's trapping you. He doesn't call it violence when he lands troops in South Vietnam... He doesn't call it violence when he lands troops in Berlin. When the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor he didn't say Get Nonviolent. He said Praise The Lord, But Pass The Ammunition. But when someone attacks YOU... When someone comes at YOU with a club. When someone comes at YOU with a rope. When someone comes at YOU with a gun. Despite the fact that you've done nothing... he tells you, SUFFER PEACEFULLY... and how long can you suffer after suffering for 400 years? So I just want to clear up that little point right there, because he says we play on your emotions. And when you turn on your television tonight, or your radio, or read the newspaper- they're going to tell YOU that I was playing on your emotions. Imagine YOU a second class citizen."

"That's not getting emotional, that's getting INTELLIGENT."

"They put Moses in jail. They put Daniel in jail. Why you haven't got a man in the Bible that wasn't put to jail when they started speaking out against exploitation and oppression! They changed Jesus with sedition.

They said he was against Caesar. They said he was discriminating because he told his disciples go not the way of the gentiles- but rather, go to the lost sheep. He discriminated! Don't go to the gentiles, go to the lost sheep! Go to the oppressed... Go to the exploited. Go to the people who don't know who they are. Who are lost from the knowledge of themselves and who are strangers in a land that is not theirs. Go to those people! Go to the slaves! Go to the second class citizens. Go to the ones who are suffering the brunt of Caesars brutality."

"And if Jesus were here in America today, he wouldn't be going to the white man. The white man is the oppressor, he would be going to the oppressed. He would be going to the humble. He would be going to the lowly. He would be going to the rejected and the despised. He would be going to the so-called 'American Negro'"

"Let me tell you something- and I'll tell ya: while you say we hate white people, we don't hate anybody! We LOVE our own people so much they think we hate the ones who are inflicting injustice against them."