#lead me to the path of righteousness

[keroseneinhalers]

they have some chips in my office and i didn’t bring a lunch sooo…

you think i could steal some after school?

[dwuerch-blog]

 He Leads Us -- No Fear Here

 He Leads Us — No Fear Here

For some time, my daughter has been encouraging me to write a book that includes my blogs. I haven’t had the drive to write it yet because each day I realize that I am not the author of my faith story. I’m still here, pressing onward and upward, so I’ll just keep journaling via my blogs until I get a “Just do it!” from God. Among my favorite scriptures, my “go to” for comfort and direction is…

[sunrisebythesea]

The Lord is my shepherd;
I shall not want.

He makes me to lie down in green pastures;
He leads me beside the still waters.

He restores my soul;
He leads me in the paths of righteousness
For His name’s sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil;
For You are with me;
Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies;
You anoint my head with oil;
My cup runs over.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
All the days of my life;
And I will dwell in the house of the Lord Forever.

- Psalm 23 (NKJV)

[thewordfortheday]

THE WORD FOR 21/8

The LORD is my Shepherd, I shall not want. Psalm 23:1

Like sheep we need the tender care of our Shepherd.

For He alone

- meets our needs (I shall not be in want)

- gives us rest (makes me lie down in green pastures)

- guide us in the right path (leads me in the path of righteousness)

- protects us from evil (I fear no evil, for You are with me)

- gives us comfort (Your rod and staff comfort me)

- vindicates us (spreads a table before me in front of my foes)

- blesses us richly (my cup overflows)

- gives us abundant life (goodness and mercy will follow me)

- and eternal life (I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever)

The Lord Jesus, our Good Shepherd, has our journey perfectly planned. As long as we're following His voice, and He is our Shepherd we will never be in want!

[ghoulsbounty]

can you make a fic abt baby billy and like being one of his wives or like when he's on the run from tiff idrk depends on what you want to do

A Fall From Grace

Uncle Baby Billy Freeman x Fem!Reader

Summary: Baby Billy comes seeking comfort, and you are always willing to shoulder the burden.

Warnings: smut (18+), backshot, cum eating (kinda), p in v, alluding to an affair, mentions of religious beliefs relating to the show, angst, alcohol, smoking, emotional hurt/comfort, reader pining for baby billy, dejection.

Word Count: 1.7K

A/N: Anon and anon, thank you for requesting that I write for this emotionally stunted baby man. I love him, I love the show, and the world needs Baby Billy fics! This is set before he is with Tiff (because I love her.) I’d love to know what you all think to this, and feel free to send me more requests 💌

You longed to utter the words, to express disbelief at finding yourself in this familiar game of cat and mouse once more. But honesty was a luxury you couldn't afford, not when your conscience was already weighed down by a litany of sins. Each lie added to the burden, and you couldn't bear to heap more upon your soul.

There was a time, not so long ago, you walked the path of life with a sense of purpose and righteousness. Like any devout believer, you diligently carried out God's will, spreading His word among the neighbours of Pumpkintown. But then, on a scorching summer's day, destiny led you through Freeman's Gap, where you found yourself standing at his doorstep. From that moment, everything changed.

Baby Billy, with his irresistible charm and captivating façade, swiftly drew you into his intricate web of deception. His presence cast a shadow over your once-virtuous existence, blurring the boundaries between right and wrong. In his company, your convictions faltered, and the very essence of your faith began to erode. Slowly but surely, he transformed you from a devout Christian into a mere echo of your former self.

No matter how many times you had promised yourself that this would be the last time, that you wouldn't let it happen again, it all amounted to more lies to add to the growing list. When he reappeared in your life after an eighteen-month absence, you were poised to slam the door shut in his face. But he possessed a silver tongue that could persuade the sun to set twice.

So here you were, pressed face down against the mattress, your skin glistening with sweat as he drove into you from behind. This was your preferred position; it prevented him from gazing at you with adoration, as if you were the centre of his universe, while he consumed every inch of your being. It made it easier to bear his departure after he was done with you, when he didn't linger. The ache in your chest always remained, but your time with Baby Billy had made you realize that you were nothing if not resilient.

Your gaze lingered on the half-empty bottle of gin perched on the bedside table. It was his customary offering, always referred to as your favourite. Whether it truly held that distinction was a matter of uncertainty, but you always accepted it. Flowers and chocolate might have softened the edges of your encounters with him, but they could never dull the sharp pang of inevitable loss you’d feel when he returned to whichever-number wife he was on.

"I'll accept the bottle, but not the intent," you would murmur each time he presented it, extending the gesture like an olive branch. His eyes would gleam with anticipation, tinged with a hint of apprehension, as he waited to be welcomed in. How many lies had you accumulated by now?

More than you cared to count. This self-proclaimed righteous man of God would lead you to the depths of hell itself if it meant avoiding solitude, and you would willingly follow. That was the truth.

"Haven't lost you now, have I?" His voice snapped you out of your trance, his hips grinding against your backside with a fervour that seemed desperate to anchor you to him.

Clutching the sheets tightly, your knuckles turned white as you shook your head. "I'm here, Baby Billy."

He chuckled, his hands gripping the flesh of your hips as he pulled back slightly before thrusting back in with force. Your walls tightened around him, drawing out the most obscene moans from his lips as he maintained an unfaltering rhythm.

"You're always here for Baby Billy," he remarked with a hint of satisfaction. "You're a good girl."

The words ignited a surge of conflicting emotions within you, sending sparks flying through your mind. Somewhere deep within, a wire seemed to short circuit, and you found yourself instinctively grinding your hips back against him, matching his movements.

"Damn," he sighed, his voice heavy with gratification, as one hand dropped to your front. His fingers traced along your wet folds until he found the sensitive bundle of nerves, eliciting a high-pitched wail from your lips. "Well, if that ain't the prettiest thing I've ever heard."

His other hand released your hip, fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled you against his sticky chest. The new position drove him deeper, your head leaning back against his shoulder in the crook of his neck as he slowed to a heavy grind. His fingers continued their expert ministrations on your clit, tracing familiar circles, while his other hand left your hair to grab harshly at your breast, pinching your nipple just as he knew you liked.

"Let me see you now," he panted. You hadn't realized you'd squeezed your eyes shut until he slapped your clit with an open palm, causing you to flinch against him, and when you opened them, he was looking down at you with those hazel eyes that sucked you in every time. "There she is. Tell Baby Billy what you want from him."

He always did this, despite your attempts to bury your face into the mattress to hide from what you were doing with him. He always found a way to make you look at him, to confront your demons and tell him what you desired most from him. It was as if he couldn't let you come out of this unscathed, regardless of his claims that he needed you right there with him.

He didn't truly need you, not in the sense of wanting you for anything more than warming his cock and easing the burden of the life he had created for himself. You were a distraction from the suffering he had caused, never once caring for your own.

You wished you could refuse him. In every other aspect of your life, you were strong, but when it came to Baby Billy Freeman, your resolve wavered with just one look. Perhaps it was the underlying desperation he always seemed to exude, making you feel sorry for him, as if you were providing a service by temporarily alleviating his misery. Eventually, you stopped trying to make sense of it, allowing it to happen and taking from it what you wanted, what you needed.

"I want to cum," you breathed against the skin of his neck, then remembered what he always liked to hear. "Please, Baby Billy."

The familiar tightening in your stomach signalled your impending climax, and he seemed to sense it too, his movements growing more urgent as your walls fluttered around him, drawing him deeper with each thrust. His fingers worked faster against your clit, pushing you closer to the edge. Your eyes rolled back as your orgasm ripped through you, your body convulsing against his as you cried out into the silence of the bedroom.

He grunted, continuing to thrust into you through your orgasm, your walls milking him as you pulsed around him. Your body went limp as the last surge of electricity shot through you, and he tossed you back onto the mattress to reach his own release. A few more thrusts, then you felt the tell-tale stutter of his hips before he withdrew completely, leaving your pussy feeling empty and used. The sound of your juices squelching around him filled the room as he used them to pleasure himself, pumping once, twice before finally cumming hard onto your ass with a shout of release.

You laid there, your sweaty face pressed against the sticky cotton sheet as you slowly grounded yourself back to reality. He panted above you, running a finger over the curves of your ass, scooping his release from you before bringing it to your mouth. You accepted it, your tongue swirling around his finger, lips closing around him as you sucked the salty mixture and swallowed it down. It was a habit he enjoyed, claiming that if he couldn't cum inside you, he at least wanted to ensure you received what he was giving in some way. It had become a routine you found yourself needing more than you cared to admit.

He withdrew his finger, delivering a sharp slap to your ass before rising from the bed. The mattress groaned with his movement, and you lay still as he carried out his next habitual task. Moments later, he returned, a lit cigarette between his lips and a wet cloth in his hand as he gently cleaned off the evidence of his release from your behind before tossing it onto the bedside table with a wet thwack. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he leaned over you with an arm resting on the mattress. You turned onto your back underneath him, running your fingers over his forearm as he looked down at you.

"Don't look at me like that," you said, tracing patterns through the hair on his arm.

"Like what, angel?" he asked, his voice tinged with amusement as he brought the cigarette to your lips. You took a drag before he reclaimed it, exhaling slowly as your eyes met his.

"Like you might love me," you whispered.

He chuckled, briefly glancing away before returning his gaze to you. "Maybe I do."

Once, you believed you loved him, back when you were still innocent to the manipulative games he played and your part in it all. But that belief didn't last long; you soon learned to shut it out, along with the company of men who weren't him.

"Right girl, wrong time," he had once told you, but you quickly learned that the right time would never come.

For Baby Billy, love wasn't in the equation. It soon became clear that he merely enjoyed the possession of you. You were like an old toy to him, tossed aside until he desired to play with you again. Your emotions, your needs, they were secondary to his whims, serving only to satisfy his fleeting desires.

Baby Billy Freeman didn't love you, he loved having you.

He would depart soon, leaving you with uncertainty about when you would see him again. Yet, deep down, you knew he would return. He always did, seeking refuge in your presence to distract himself from the harsh realities of his life. And you would be there for him, as you always were.

Because unfortunately, somewhere along the way of Baby Billy using you like a drug, you had become addicted yourself.

[merbear25]

Can I request Priest! Doffy fucking his little innocent reader? :3 Doffy calling his victim "little lamb" 🤭

AHHH Kari 💜💜💜💜💜💜 Thank you so much for requesting something, my lovely! I'm always happy to write something for you, especially when it's something dark and kinky 🤭 I really hope you like what I've written for you 😘

After so many lingering eyes tempting you, wanting to pull you into sin, you sought out advice from your congregation leader in hopes of him guiding you back on the path to righteousness. However, you come to realize that even those who are meant to be holy deliverers are no different from the common man.

CW: NSFW, MDNI, fem!reader, blasphemy, corruption, abuse of power, age gap implied, rough sex, vaginal penetration, bukkake 

Leading his devoted follower into sin (Priest!Doffy)

You spent many times praying on your Rosemary, sitting on the pew in front of the towering cross. The number of prayers you were advised to bestow onto the religious symbol always seemed to be climbing to rid you of your newfound sinful thoughts.

You hadn’t asked for this: the wandering eyes from others both in and outside of the congregation. Then why did you enjoy how it made you feel? Despite how wrong you knew it to be, you were left imagining what could happen if you returned their advances, most of which crept into your mind during the late hours of the night. These thoughts clouded your better judgment, rendering you helpless under such temptation.

Perhaps the Lord would understand, just this once, if you crossed the line into self fulfilling pleasure. With your unskilled touch, you were only left frustrated and unsatisfied, thinking that you’d brought disappointment upon yourself with no rewards of gratification.

Visiting Father Doffy directly seemed like the most logical next step; he had been a part of the Church for much longer than the other priests, meaning he had the most experience. Standing outside his office door, you hesitantly knocked, secretly hoping he wasn’t in so that you wouldn’t have to explain your shameful behavior to him.

“Come in.”

Peeking out from behind the door, you saw him working earnestly on documents. Sighing, he looked up at you and welcomed you into his office. “Oh, please come sit, my child. What brings you in here?”

Feeling a bit of warmth to his invitation to sit, you did as he requested. Nervously, you twiddled with your thumbs, unsure how to approach the topic of last night’s endeavors.

Picking up on your hesitation, he motioned to the other side of his desk and leaned against it to give this visit a more personal touch. “What’s on your mind?”

“Father, I’m afraid that I’ve been pulled, coaxed if you will, into sin. I just don’t understand how this could have happened. I attend mass regularly, as well as confession and I’m still filled with these overwhelming desires.” 

You looked up at him with desperation on your face, pleading for him to guide you back into the light, “Please, Father, help rid me of these thoughts.”

Such a delicious display of devotion and trust you held whetted his appetite and intrigued him—just how far would you be willing to go to earn your place in the Lord’s good grace again? 

His relaxed tone hid his dark intentions perfectly, leaving you blind to what was to come. “Have you given into these shameful urges?”

With the recollection of last night, you hung your head, “Yes, and I am most ashamed of it.”

Letting out a soft exhale of what he disguised as disappointment, he began pulling your puppet strings, “It is true that our Lord is forgiving, although willingly throwing yourself to sin is rather serious.”

As your body trembled at the thought of eternal damnation, he couldn’t help but lick his lips in the anticipation of tasting your sweet nectar. “Show me what you did,” the tone was void of its supportiveness, now being replaced with demand.

Your eyes were wide with disbelief and as you began to question him, he stopped you in your tracks, leaving you to linger in a limbo of confusion. The discomfort of exposing your body to him was being outweighed by your fear of disobeying one of God’s most devoted.

Taking off your pants, you positioned yourself on the chair, spreading your legs to reveal your slick coated folds. His gaze burned into you, leaving the feeling of hell fire singeing your immortal soul. You let your unskilled fingers show him just how useless you were at pleasing this pent-up lust. 

When he chuckled to himself, the heat on your face deepened. Leaning towards you and repositioning himself directly in front of you, he guided you through it, “This is the most sensitive part.” His finger hovered over your clit. Even without physical contact, the rush of him being so close made you tremble. “Be sure to give it attention by swirling your little fingers around it.”

As you followed his instructions, the difference was night and day. You started panting and squirming from the shockwaves of euphoria. 

“Such a beautiful display of obedience, my little lamb,” he let out a low chuckle the more your legs shook. 

Seeing you in such a helpless state was too good of an opportunity to resist taking advantage of. Standing over you, he unzipped his pants to expose his own sinful arousal. The confliction in your eyes, your quaking form: his cock ached to feel your pure touch on it.

Stroking slowly and steadily, his voice was stern, “Give me your hand.” Placing your hand on his length, he made you grip it to his liking and guided it up and down, demonstrating how best to please him. “Don’t stop playing with yourself.”

With each thrust he bucked into your hand, you could feel this burning urge for more. The succumbing to ecstasy was all over your delicate features. He leaned down, his breath hot on your sensitive skin as if taunting you, “Do you wish to give yourself to me, little lamb?”

“Please, show me the light, Father…”

The devil showed himself to you through the sadistic grin that stretched across his face. Without any warning, he angled his hips and plunged into you as deeply as he could. Even with your shrieks from the sudden waves of pain, he paid them no mind. You were his to do with as he pleased, to drag down to the pits of hell with him.

Playing with your clit, he reveled in your shocked expression; having never before been subjected to one of the greatest pleasures the Lord bestowed upon his people, you were perfect for Doffy to have his way with.

With each shudder, each spasm of your walls clamping around him, he continued being relentless until he was satisfied. Reveling in the fervor forcibly pushing you over the edge, you unraveling on him made him quickly follow suit.

Pulling out, he grabbed you by the throat, pushing you against the back of the chair as he hastily chased his own orgasm. With low, guttural grunts, his hot seed drenched your defiled innocence.

Trying to catch his breath, he grinned at the state of you: that sweet face being coated in his cum was a delectable sight to soak in.

Throwing a washcloth at you, he told you to clean yourself up. Doing so with shaky hands, he smirked at you, “Don’t worry. Our Lord is a forgiving and understanding one, remember?”

[hosseinis]

walton goggins as boyd crowder -> justified, season one

Dear Heavenly Father, I'm not gonna pretend to understand. You told me what you wanted done, and that's what we did. How could you let it end like this? All these men trusted me to lead them on the path of righteousness for your name's sake. All these men came to you because they believed in me. And now they're dead. I'm gonna need a sign. I'm gonna need to know that their sacrifice meant something to you. ...Maybe I've just been talking to myself this whole time.

[f1nalboys]

confessional ; lester sinclair

Lester Sinclair x GN!Reader

WORD COUNT: 2280

WARNINGS: nsfw, no sex, priest kink, blasphemy, perverting the catholic faith etc, hands free orgasm, some nasty stuffs going down in the confessional, cumming in his pants, talk about sacreligious fantasies, corrupting lester teehee. not really proofread, based off of this thing i wrote

The confessional booth is dark and quiet. As Lester sits in the small wooden seat, his hands clasped loosely in his lap, resting on his robes, he ponders for just a moment if this is his true calling. He wonders if the other priests, all older, more experienced and devout, struggle with the thoughts he does. Lester has no time to think about it as he hears the confessional curtain slide open, the clinking of the eyelet rings against the pole having him sit up a bit straighter. 

His thumb runs over the rosary as he listens to the person settle into their side of the booth. Lester swallows heavily as he stares forwards into the wooden door, at the carved wooden statue of his Lord and Savior nailed to the cross, shifting in his seat. He knows the penitent cannot see him, that he is shrouded in darkness and separated by the old wood and lattice, but he knows God can see him and he must be careful. Careful with his thoughts, careful with his actions, careful with leading the flock to the path of righteousness. A hush falls over the booth.

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.” Lester’s eyes widen slightly and he can feel his pulse in his throat. He knew that voice, knew who it belonged to, and though he shouldn’t, he couldn’t help but put a face to the voice. Your image manifests in front of him, translucent, a mirage against the grain of the door. “This is my first confessional.”

Lester nods, forgetting for a moment the image of you is purely in his mind. He clears his throat, which was suddenly dry, and smooths the purple stole. “That’s alright. This is one of my first confessions too, y'know.” He says quietly, a lie, and he can’t help but feel the corner of his lips twitch at the sigh of relief he hears you let out. He wonders what you look like right now, if you’re in your usual attire or something different. It was later in the day, warmer than usual, and he has to clear his throat again to rid his thoughts of what that might entail. “Just… confess your sins and I'll do my best to help lead ya to absolution.”

“Thank you, Father.” You take a deep breath and Lester waits with bated breath, unsure of why he is so interested in what you will confess. The sins have always blended together. Adultery, drinking, gossiping, materialism, jealousy, lying; he’s heard every sin a thousand times over and not once did he ever feel invested past his holy duty. But this is you, the young lamb he was meant to protect. 

No, Lester thinks to himself as you begin to speak, the young lamb God was meant to protect. Not him. “I’ve lied to people before, dozens of times, just to get a better outcome for myself. I’m selfish, greedy, and gluttonous.” Lester hears the waver in your voice as you speak and he wonders for a split second if you knew by his voice that he was the one taking your confession. “I don’t pray everyday, I‘ve missed Mass many times due to laziness…” 

He waits as you trail off to see if you continue speaking. When the awkward silence hangs over the booth like a raincloud he speaks, doing his best to keep his voice calm and even. “Ask for absolution and I can give it to ya.” He says, his accent strong and comforting, his eyes still on the wooden door. He had been sitting on the small wooden seat far past comfort, but the pain and ache in his back was no longer felt.

“Please… can you grant me absolution, Father?” 

You speak right away, as if commanded by him, and your voice sends a shiver down his spine. You were eager to be forgiven, listening to his every word. He realizes that he could steer you wrong, he could push you towards darkness instead of the light, and that you’d follow. He swallows heavily, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment. They snap open. The lust for power burned heavy in his heart; he could tell you whatever he wanted and you’d believe him. You would do anything if he said so.

“I can. Say five ‘Our Father’s’ and you'll be forgiven.”

“Thank you, Father.” You say and Lester swears he can hear your relief. 

He keeps his eyes closed as he brings his rosary, an old flashy thing with a red sapphire in the center his mother had passed down to him, to his lips. You begin to murmur the Act of Contrition, Lester whispering along to his part. “Go in peace.” He says, settling back as he waits to hear you stand, for the curtain to be pulled back and for yet another member of the congregation to enter and for him to start the process over again. It doesn’t come. “You alright, sweetheart?”

His voice is etched with concern, his eyes opening and for the first time, he allows himself to look over through the lattice. Your silhouette is there, your head bent down, your hands clasped into prayer, and he nearly gasps at the want that stirs in his stomach. He can’t see you, but now that he faces you, he can see your outline, he can smell your perfume, he can just barely make out the curve of your lips as you whisper hurriedly to yourself. When your head moves up, he sits back as quickly as he can, staring at the door.

“I didn’t confess everything.” 

“That’s alright. Do you wanna confess more?” 

“I do but… I’m afraid it’s sacreligious.” 

The words nearly take his breath away. “Sacreligious?” He says, unable to hide the surprise in his voice. He won’t say it - can't say it - but he wasn’t sure that was possible. Not with you, at least. “I think you should kneel and confess.” It’s out of his mouth before he means to say it, his accent growing stronger, but he hears the sounds of you moving from the creaky wooden bench onto the ground. He keeps his eyes on the door but he can see you there, knelt on the ground with your hands clasped at your face, looking up at the lattice with wide nervous eyes.

“I… I suffer from impure thoughts, Father.”

Lester grins softly, shaking his head. “That’s hardly sacreligious. It’s-”

“It’s about a priest, Father.” Lester stops talking, feeling his cock stir in his pants. He blinks, sure he misheard. But he hears you sniffle and he clears his throat slightly. “I-It’s one of the priests here, at this church.”

“Which priest?”

“I can’t-”

“The only way for ya' to be absolved is if you’re completely honest with me.” Lester says, ignoring the guilt building in his chest. This is wrong. He has a holy duty to steer these people right, to the word of the Lord, and yet now he was ever so slowly moving his hand up his leg to his crotch, pushing his robes up to his hips so he can gently press his palm against his bulge. “The Lord is kind to those who trust him enough to confess their deepest sins.” 

Lester hears you sniffle again before you make an affirming noise. “It’s… it’s Father Sinclair.” Lester bites down harshly onto his bottom lip to hold back a noise. The copper taste of blood fills his mouth as he closes his eyes, humming. “I know it’s wrong… I’ve only been coming here, to church, for a few weeks, and with every other priest I’ve been able to control my thoughts. But… there’s something about Father Sinclair… I know it’s wrong of me, Father.”

“It’s okay.” He reassures you quickly, though his voice is thicker than it was before. “No need to cry. These… thoughts that you’ve been having… can you go into detail?” Lester’s head leans backwards, thunking against the wood. “It's important to be honest, you know? You have to tell the truth if you want to be free.”

“I… do I have to?”

“Are you embarrassed?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Then yeah, ya do. You’re embarrassed because you know it’s wrong. It’s hard to be truthful but it’s important. It’s for the salvation of your soul, sweetheart.”

“Okay…” You take in a slow and deep breath and Lester prepares himself for the filth that would soon be flowing from your sweet lips by ever so slightly rubbing his palm against his bulge. It’s almost impossible for him to hold back his hiss of pleasure, but he does so, God willing. His eyes close though he swears he can still see the accusatory stare of the wooden Jesus in the darkness.

“Take your time and remember; you gotta be honest. The complete and utter truth.” He’s not sure if he’s telling you or if he’s begging you. 

A few moments pass and he holds his breath. You begin to speak quietly, your voice close to him now with your position on your knees closer to the lattice that separates you both, and he briefly wonders if this is how God feels when he hears prayers. He wonders if God feels the swell of pride in his chest at the sheer devotion he has been shown or if he is above that. All Lester knows is that he is not.

“I…I sometimes think about him when I’m alone at night. I.. touch myself.” Lester hums, low in his throat, his hand grinding down just a little harder. “I think about him there with me… touching me, telling me how to touch him.” You let out a choked noise, surely a sob at your sins, but Lester hears it as a moan. “Even when I try to think about something else, my mind drifts.”

“Spirits willin' but the flesh is weak, s'that it?”

“Very weak.” You reply and he can almost see you nod your head. “Sometimes during his sermon I drift off… I start thinking about him bending me over one of the pews,” Lester makes a choked noise, trying to cover it with a cough, his cock aching against his pants. He wants to pull his dick out but he knows he will never, ever, be able to go back once he does that. The punishment God had in store for him was already grand, there was no reason to push it just yet. “And whispering in my ear about how I feel better than any earthly thing he’s ever felt.”

“I-I see…” Lester says, his eyelids heavy as he opens them and looks down at his lap. Even in the dark of the confessional he can see the dark spot that was growing on his pants and he is thankful for the robes he dons so he can shuffle out of here and back to his chambers without someone seeing the physicality of his failure. “Is that all?” 

His voice is strained, his hips bucking against the tight fabric of his pants, chasing friction he shouldn’t find enjoyable. He was so close, had only felt this way twice before, both times in the cloak of the night with his hand wrapped tight around his cock and a sheen of sweat covering his forehead. Both times he had stopped, pulling his hand away from himself with a sharp gasp and a furrowed brow, watching his cock twitch and leak until he forced himself to roll over and go to sleep.

“I… I’ve thought about touching myself even now while talking about it.” You say and Lester bites down so hard onto his lip that he feels the skin break underneath his teeth once again, coating them in red, his pants coated in white as he cums. His nerves are shot, white dots floating in his vision as he comes back down to earth. What he just felt, before the guilt and embarrassment and worry settled in, was the closest to Heaven he knew he’d ever get. “That’s all, Father. That’s the complete and utter truth.”

Lester swallows heavily in an attempt to keep his voice level. He isn’t sure if he had made a noise of pleasure when he came, but you wait patiently for his absolution, so he carries forward. He can feel the heat of embarrassment crawling its way up his spine, his cheeks turning pink as he stares down at the mess he had made of himself. “That’s… a lot.” 

“I told you.”

“You did, you did…” He sucks in another breath and blinks hard, trying to clear his mind. “Five Hail Marys and seven Our Father’s should work…” he plans on leaving it there, hoping to get you out of the confessional booth as quickly as possible, but his lips keep moving. “And I think you should come by weekly for counseling. You can request a specific priest, or whoever is available, and they can give you one on one counselin'.” 

“Will you do the one on one counseling with me, Father? I feel embarrassed about admitting this to someone else.”

“I… yes, if you’d like. But you would have to remind me of what you’ve confessed here; I don’t know your voice.” He says, stumbling over his own words. He turns to look through the lattice as you stand from where you’ve been kneeling, letting out a quiet breath of relief. He had gotten through this by the skin of his teeth.

“Thank you, Father Sinclair.” He can hear the smug smile in your voice and he lets out a low, throaty whine as his cock twitches pathetically. “I’ll see you next week.”

[covenofthearticulate]

Been thinking a lot lately about how Akasha calls Louis "the most predatory of all the immortals" because he kills "without regard for age or sex or will to live." but then later in TVA, Armand describes him as this:

"Louis, an indiscriminate killer, because he cannot satisfy his thirst without killing, though he is too weak to risk the death of the victim in his arms, and because he has no pride or vanity which would lead him to a hierarchy of intended victims, and therefore takes those who cross his path, regardless of age, physical endowments, or blessings bestowed by nature or fate."

Like on the surface Akasha seems totally right, Louis doesn't hunt the evildoer, he preys on innocent victims despite his devotion to humanity and that is what makes him dangerous because he's a hypocrite.

But I'm so intrigued by Armand's re-framing because on the surface sure it makes sense that Louis hunts indiscriminately since he doesn't have the same tools to weed out the evildoers. Only there's another factor on top of that— Louis also doesn't have the pride that it takes to pick and choose victims!!!!! Like, it absolutely takes some level of pride and righteousness (and dare I say narcissism) to kill based on your personal, subjective perception of evil. It also takes work to hunt down a drug lord or a gang leader. Like Armand says, their victims exist in a hierarchical system and to get to the top of the food chain, it takes intention and pre-meditation and a level of conviction Louis just doesn't have.

And honestly I think looking at it from that perspective highlights such an important part of who Louis is as a character because vampirism, for Louis, has never been about power. He just has no interest in living above humans. That's not to say he's completely free of vanity or narcissism (don't get me started there lol) but like I do think Louis' lack of discernment when picking victims ultimately stems from a rejection of playing God and a rejection of self-importance, rather than some feral predatory instinct.

[hiswordsarekisses]

“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” Psalm‬ ‭23‬:‭1‬-‭6‬

[heretherebedork]

Mew is constantly pushing both Ray and Boston to get into monogamous relationships and to stop drinking so much and to stop sleeping around and to stop all the little things that do that don't fit the idea of purity culture or of the clean cut image he tries to wear like a protective shield around him.

Mew wears his righteousness and his own morals like armor and he keeps trying to dress everyone around him in the same gear because it's way he sees value in them.

Mew is self-righteous and in a lot of ways it makes sense why Boston would be frustrated and out of control with Top choosing Mew over him because they're two sides of the same coin (as @respectthepetty reminded me on my other post).

Mew is the righteousness to Boston's slut and they are friends in name only and Ray is also there because he's damaged and broken and hurt and being alone with friends is better than being alone by himself.

Because the show is, to my sadness, giving us a much more straightforwardly righteous Mew than I was hoping. He views himself as morally superior and doesn't understand why anyone wouldn't want to simply follow him down the Right Path.

It's very interesting and I am fascinated by how this is all going to lead to Mew and Ray's fight next episode but it's also been coming for a long time.

This is a friendship group built on a toxic waste dump of desperation, competition, moral superiority and the singular lesbian who seems to have absolutely no drama.

[roobylavender]

hmm this may interest you, do you have thoughts on this subject matter character-wise or in a meta sense?:

https://www.tumblr.com/thecruellestmonth/740875315694501888/batman-turning-points-3-batman-under-the-red

personally i'm not a fan of bruce's disavowal of fatherhood much for the same reasons that i'm not a fan of his installing the good soldier plaque. these to me are both writing choices driven more by writers' desire to explore theoretical concepts than they are driven by a character study of bruce himself. the concept of robin as an occupation inherently equivalent to child abuse is interesting. the concept of wondering what right a father has to children he has adopted towards that end is interesting. that being said, exploring the former concept didn't necessarily demand eliminating robin altogether. exploring the latter concept didn't necessarily demand bruce completely disavowing himself of any accountability. and ultimately both writing choices ignore that a core aspect of bruce's relationships with the robins was wanting to be a good parent, or at the least a good guardian. certainly something more than a mere ally or friend. he took responsibility for these children because he wanted to help guide them towards a certain path in life where they would no longer be ruled by their trauma the way he was and is by his. allowing them to become robin to that end was obv more than questionable, but all too many writers forget and even go so far as to ignore that bruce knew that. he was well aware of his status as an enabler and he eventually hated himself for it deeply. he felt perpetually guilty and reluctant to ask dick for any support once the latter became an adult bc he didn't want to sanction and (in his mind) effectively require dick to do something that would endanger his life on his own orders. he could realistically never stop dick from pursuing vigilantism, but he could at least refuse to ask dick for that commitment any longer so that dick had complete freedom to make his own choices as to the matter. regardless, bruce had to live with the guilt of having enabled the existence of robin to begin with, and he intended to live with that guilt. it was his closest friend and his primary means of survival

if anything, that to me is precisely why his disavowal of fatherhood doesn't make sense. bruce is a poor communicator and he has a tendency to take upon all burdens at the expense of his loved ones feeling like he no longer values them or their support, but that doesn't negate the fact that he's quite hyperaware of his flaws. he's a far more relentless critic of himself than he is of others, and that stems as much from self-righteousness as it does guilt. he's supposed to be better. he's supposed to set an example. he's supposed to do the right thing. he's supposed to save the whole city even if he's only one person. and so on and so forth. bruce is possessive of highly unrealistic expectations for himself bc he's a ridiculously emotional person trying to tell himself to act like a robot. he repeatedly sets himself up for failure and then when he inevitably fails he kicks himself down like a dog. he is essentially a walking man-child simply because he cares too much and that often leads him to make stupid, emotionally driven choices: like taking random children into his home and teaching them how to channel their emotions through fighting crime, because if it worked for him it might work for them too, esp when they've got the added benefit of his supervision and well-intended (albeit awkward) companionship

all of bruce's circumstances and internalizations and traumas point to him taking what i would term excessive ownership of his crimes. he's a self-made pity puddle because he thinks everything is his fault. dick barely having a life outside of vigilantism is his fault. dick nearly falling to his death is his fault. jason failing to properly process his parental trauma is his fault. jason getting blown up by the joker is his fault. i simply cannot imagine a world where bruce isolates himself from caring or from taking the blame because doing the latter has been his modus operandi for so long. it makes more sense for bruce to disavow fatherhood in the specific context of not wanting to take the place that john and mary or willis and catherine will always occupy; it makes less sense for bruce to disavow fatherhood in the specific context of raising and loving dick and jason as if they were his own. it's very much a you don't have to call me dad but when i call you "chum" i mean "son" situation. he's never one to burden others intentionally (although we obv know this rarely plays out the way he wants it to), rather he intentionally burdens himself. that's precisely what knightfall as an arc is stellar at depicting, regardless of the fact that it coincides with the existence of the good soldier plaque. bruce in the aftermath of jason's death has to blame himself excessively because it's the only way he knows how to cope. i've never understood depictions of his grief with an emphasis on jason's share of the blame bc not only is it classist towards jason, it's also inconsistent with bruce's own character and tendency to believe that every bad thing that happens is his fault. it's why i'm not really a fan of gotham knights #43-45. a death in the family makes it clear that bruce blames himself for not allowing jason to have the space and time to process his trauma properly before throwing him into the suit. allowing him to have hope never even comes into the picture

and i'm not sure if anyone has ever considered this, but the disavowal of fatherhood really confuses me when you remember tim exists. why is bruce's disavowal with regards to jason even necessary when the crux of tim's entry into the mythos is precisely the fact that he isn't someone over whom bruce can similarly exercise responsibility and ownership.. it's far more interesting to explore the tightrope bruce walks with that partnership because he's easily in a place to deny responsibility and yet obv he ultimately can't because despite whatever reluctance he expressed initially, he eventually gave in. the tone of the grant/brefoygle run also helps with depicting that dilemma. we're not primarily privy to the bruce of old anymore, who while quiet and awkward nonetheless expressed a capacity for caretaking. there are remnants of that of course (esp after tim's mother dies). but the bruce of the 90s is more imperious and domineering because he's been hardened by trauma. he delivers grand speeches about vigilantism and justice. he sends tim across the pond because he needs proper training. the fact that they're neighbors and get burgers together sometimes doesn't detract from the physical divide present there because tim is ultimately someone else's son and possessive of a life entirely divorced of what he does in the mask. he can walk away without preamble in a way that dick (at least until adulthood) and jason never could. plenty of writers recognized that and personally i believe it's what made the 90s robin run interesting to read, but i also believe writers retroactively projected the necessity of an emotionally distant bruce to that narrative onto the bruce of old. it was progressively rewritten to be a constant rather than a development in the wake of a highly transgressive event. and unfortunately that's tainted every interaction and/or recollection that he has with/of jason afterward

[glass-strawberries]

The Valley by The Oh Hellos: A Biblical Song Analysis

*Full analysis under the cut*

By @glass-strawberries and @glass--grapes

Author's note: we grew up Christian and we love whimsical music so hearing all these references from our childhood hit pretty well. We wanted to analyze it and share all the references because The Oh Hellos are honestly some of the best lyricists we’ve seen. 

This analysis does contain references to Genius Lyrics where we didn’t know what the lyrics were referring to. We didn’t copy them, but we added additional information.

The Valley 

Background/song summary: The Valley is the first track in The Oh Hellos Through the Deep, Dark Valley. Though the album is coined as a concept album, the concept itself is very loose. The album was made in respect to love, journeys, and righting past wrongs. 

This song is about the struggle and confusion of being born into wickedness or sin, as all humans are following the fall of humanity (the original sin). The speaker seeks a leader to the light. 

Lyric Analysis:

We were born in the valley Of the dead and the wicked

A reference to the Valley of Canaan, the ancient land that is now known as Israel/ Palestine. 

That our father's father found And where we laid him down

Moses led the Israelites to the land of Canaan as they were fleeing Egyptian captivity. Before Moses could get there, he essentially pissed off God and was banished from entering the promised land. He dies in Moab and God buries him there(Deuteronomy 34). 

We were born in the shadow Of the crimes of our fathers

 After the fall of humanity, every human ever born is born with sin. The “fathers” in this sense is everyone who came before them(Romans 3:23-24). The speaker struggles with discrimination and labels placed on them from their fathers. 

Blood was our inheritance No, we did not ask for this Will you lead me?

Canaanites were considered wicked, and were killed in a genocide against them. The speaker resents the sin that they have inherited, having been credited to this crime against the Canaanites. They once again yearn for a leader.

We were young when we heard you call Our names in the silence Like a fire in the dark

The speaker did not know God until they started to hope for a leader or divine intervention. God says that He will reveal Himself to those who truly seek him(1 John 3:2). The Bible states that when God calls out to you, He will call you by name and you will know immediately that it was Him that was speaking (Isaiah 43:1).

Like a sword upon our hearts We came down to the water And we begged for forgiveness

Water baptism is a symbolic representation of death in the flesh and being brought back to life in a new “body” that will “live” forever. The purpose of baptism is defined differently in different branches of Christianity and even among churches, but the two popular ones are: 

To proclaim your faith publicly(either way, you are saved as long as you have faith)

To become a true christian and be saved(you will not be saved unless you are baptized)

The singer chose to repent for their sins. Shadows lurking close behind We were fleeing for our lives Will you lead me?

Psalm 23:3- He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

1/24

[justanotherblogger]

My theory is that Mimzy was once Alastor’s best friend, he maybe even thought he might have been in love with her at one point, in that manner aroace people who don’t know they’re aroace often do, that she was then sacrificed by this cult, and that Alastor had them infiltrated and taken down every member of that cult over decades, losing more and more of himself each time as those he killed grew less and less directly connected to the crime, “sorry you just got in my way, maybe I enjoy it just a little bit does that make me insane”, but that in the act of doing so, that contradiction of righteous intent and pure depravity, along with whatever ritual for power the cult had initially started upon, let’s say in honour of Roo (the root of all evil in the Hellaverse, a character yet to be introduced), and that on Alastor’s eventual death, he then found himself in Hell all-powerful, and set about bringing down those Overlords beneath his power continuing this moral code, until he hit a wall, finding himself having ended all Overlords less powerful than him / otherwise came to his senses on meeting Mimzy again and finding her to have gone to hell, recognising that “weren’t you an old pal of mine” and really nothing more and deciding mere power, entertainment is all he now desires. But that still, out of obligation, that he must kill Lucifer, the Devil, for a sense of completion, while still being allowed to exist himself afterward. Which leads to whatever deal he ended up trapped in seven years before the events of the series, and him getting Charlie to make a deal with him to “harm no one” at a certain point in the future: to ensure that when the time comes that he will be able to kill Lucifer, and the one person able to stop him won’t be able to. To really make Alastor a true Exterminator, more measured, the embodiment of how the road to Hell is paved with good intentions.

Huh, interesting take! I didn't think the Insane song was canon, but maybe I was just misinformed. I've never really thought of Alastor having his path of vengence and righteousness leading him towards hell, but I can see a lot of potential with it!

How Alastor had been barely keeping it together in his life already, and the one person he really cares about gets killed by a freaky cult? Yeah, I'd understand his murder spree now.

Maybe the cult ate Mimzy's body for the ritual, and Alastor returned the favor, starting his cannibalistic tendencies. But I'm not sure because Mimzy didn't have any indication of that on her sinner form from what we've seen.

I also saw a similar theory with the exterminator Alastor part, where he might've originally been in heaven, but when forced through the exterminator program, let his violent tendencies take over.

I do like the cult part. Maybe this caused what Alastor was referring to when he had his interlude in the finale song, with red eyes (that I just noticed after a rewatch) following him from his crash sight to the radio tower.

Those eyes look very similar to Roo's concept art. Maybe Roo found him because he killed a lot of her followers and made a contract with him to keep him under her thumb in the long run, making sure he doesn't interrupt her plans again.

[princelylove]

Synopsis: In which Enrico Pucci has some thoughts on his situation.

Warnings: Directly quoting the bible, general yandere content, spoilers for part three + six

Enrico tapped his finger on his own arm, unsure of what to do.

Ever since he met you, he’s been distracted.

Two.

He thought of what was written for him- what could only be written with the intent for him to see- and only grew more frustrated with himself. What was he doing here? What was his plan? What was his goal?

“He must be someone who can control his desires. Someone without a lust for power, honor, wealth, or sexual gratification. He must be someone who puts the laws of God before the laws of humans. Will I, DIO, meet someone like this one day?”

‘What a disgusting display,’ he thought to himself. Everything he was doing in this moment, every single one of his feelings, was a plague. It was a disease upon his very nature, the man he must be, yet he persisted. His mind turned traitor. 

Three.

Enrico often wondered what you were doing instead of handling the task at hand. He never understood Perla in his youth, despite supporting and loving most of her decisions. He had never been in love before. It seemed… silly. Frivolous. Like it was just something to pass the time, or something to keep humans from going extinct.

He would just say his feelings are fond. Affection is different from love. So is adoration, so is admiration. Enrico doesn’t know how to place his feelings for you. 

Perhaps it was best to leave them unspoken.

Five.

He made a promise, once. A vow. His feelings on the matter are insignificant. He was to continue DIO’s plan- at all costs. He wasn’t feeling love, he was feeling lust- and he is no sinner. 

Oh, if only he were that type of man. That isn’t the truth. Truthfully, he’s fine with sinning. Using the argument of sin against his wants was futile. It’s all just a means to an end. He would sin if he truly needed to- he has and Enrico will, again. His morals aren’t a part of this equation and, to be honest, they never will be.

He would have to find something else to discourage his thoughts of you.

Seven.

He thought of Psalm 23. 

“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.”

DIO was all he needed. It’s asinine to think otherwise. 

“He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.”

Perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps this is what DIO wanted- to test him.

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.”

DIO has never led him astray. DIO has never failed him. Even in death. 

“You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.”

Or perhaps this is exactly what his lord wanted for him. Something for good behavior- a reward for his loyalty. For his continuous struggle. 

“Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” 

Yes- that’s exactly it. Of course it is. This is the little bit of indulgence Enrico will ever get in his entire life. It’s just puppy love. It’ll go away. Surely he just needs to embrace it, and it’ll leave him. His obsession-, no, his infatuation would eventually pass, as all infatuations do. He’s merely fixated on your beauty like any other would be. You’re like something in the Louvre- something to be admired from afar and never to really touch. 

Eleven.

Love is not an option for Enrico Pucci. He only has one calling, and he loves Him like he loves God.

He will not have another- he cannot have another, regardless of the type of love, and the intensity. He has no family, as far as he’s concerned. He’s too old to have a crush.

He’s a failure to his Lord if he cannot meet the prerequisites set by Him. It was right there DIO’s diary- DIO needed someone who wouldn’t succumb to foolish urges such as love. 

With DIO’s death, it’s too late for Him to bet on another player. Enrico must do what he has to do. In Heaven, he’ll find love. He’ll find you again in eternal paradise. 

But admiration is not a hindrance. Appreciation isn’t going to get in his way. 

Thirteen.

“Do you believe that I am able to do this?” He mutters, to no one in particular. The person it’s intended for has long since passed, but it’s almost as if the universe laughs in His place.

The thought does not comfort Enrico in the slightest.

Seventeen.

The sound of a disc being ejected from a cd player is the only sound you can make sense of. Your head feels as if it’s splitting in two, and your vision is getting blurry. 

Enrico shushes you, both of his hands firm on your shoulders, slowly trailing down to your upper arms.

“Be not afraid.”

The whirr of the disc being ejected plays again, and you feel yourself losing consciousness. 

“The thought to harm you hasn’t even crossed my mind.”

Nineteen.

[mxtxfanatic]

Heyy ✨ hope you're having a good day. I wanted to ask:

What are your views on lan qiren and the so called "righteous" lan sect?

Their hypocrisy baffles me SO MUCH especially if we see the parallel drawn between the situations of madam lan and wwx. Without even knowing the full story or giving them a chance to explain their actions they just serve their judgement upon them. They spend their whole lives conforming to a set of strict rules but then go on and break those same rules (which they punish and berate others for) when it suits them .They go on about rules to not be prideful, to not be arrogant but ARE prideful borderline arrogant about the fact that they are righteous, that they are elegant, that they are the LAN sect . Again, They have rules for forbidding gossip and to not make assumptions but all the judgements they laid about wwx were based upon rumors. The RUMOURS they didn't even bother to check. Moreover, after the siege when they were all proved wrong, they (and all of the jianghu) just kept silent. They didn't even acknowledge their mistakes and wrongdoings. They didn't correct the false assumptions about the wen remnants. They kept on willfully being blind. They fucking portrayed the history with THEM being the beacons of justice and then have the AUDACITY, the NERVE to call themselves righteous, moral and good. I recently read a post comparing wwx and the lan righteous and I couldn't agree more with it.

I'm sorry I'm new to Tumblr idk how to attach it here (I think I was successful at adding a link). Basically it was drawing a parallel between Hindu religious texts like Bhagwadgeeta and Mahabharata with MDZS pertaining to morality and righteousness, and the parallel drawn between Lord Krishna and Wwx's character.

""  The lesson is - don’t do good deeds out of pride or with the desire to win God’s favor. Do it because being righteous is its own reward. That is the distinct difference between the Lan righteousness, which has become performative - done to preserve reputation and save face, and WWX’s righteousness, which is done simply because it is the right thing to do. The former is a slippery slope that can lead to mistakes and an unrighteous path. The latter is a difficult but ultimately the superior path."

Pheww... I'm sorry.😭 I got carried away and started ranting 😅 but it just makes me so MAD. it was so unfair what happened and the jianghu didn't got any punishment neither did they repent. I bet, post canon, even after the whole truth is out, they wouldn't treat my boy wwx as he deserves.

So coming back to the question what is your take about the lan sect and lan qiren?

Btw I love your blog 🥰especially your takes on MDZS. Your arguments and opinions are very concise and factual it leaves less to be desired.

This is a very long and engaging exchange I once had with @/ladyqueth on the topic, and with a few small changes to my view on Lan Xichen (I said he "isn't shown to have learned" by the end of the novel when I should have said he's still processing; the former makes it sound like he pulls a jc or lqr) and a caveat that there is validity to wangxian choosing to leave the Cloud Recesses to enter seclusion elsewhere and I just couldn't find it during that convo, this is pretty much how I still feel.

Idk who said it or if this would even apply to a translation of mdzs since I do not know the language breakdown, but someone once said that it was a mistake that cultivation sects/clans got translated as "righteous" instead of "orthodox," because "righteous" holds a connotation in English that doesn't necessarily carry through to what is meant when used to describe the clans/sect in cultivation cnovels. Can't say that you are a "righteous" cultivator in a world where it is perfectly acceptable and expected of you to kill someone on the street and steal their stuff just because they're weaker than you. That's like the opposite of righteousness as English speakers use the word lmao!