#my family were atheists but thought the school would be good

[tatsumi-rin]

Moral Orel doesn't seem 100% like a show I'd feel seen in if you don't know me but then I remember the episode with the special ed kids and underneath the usual satire on extremist bible belt religion it reminds me WAY too much of how actual special ed departments treated me and other kids growing up.

Like the writers must HAVE BEEN THERE IN LIFE, man. I'd kill to sit down with Dino Stamatopoulos and find out what the fuck inspired him and the other writing staff that day.

[angelsanarchy]

Alkaline: Euronymous x Y/N Series CH 1

Tagging: @ophelialaufey @madamemaximoff06 @forever-not-gonna-sink

Euronymous saw her everywhere. She worked for the local grocery delivery service during the day and his favorite food place in town. He wishes he could say that it was his favorite only because of the falafal but he enjoyed the banter that they had with one another. He was too focused on Mayhem getting a new singer and getting some shows under their belts to even remotely consider the idea of courting anyone but if he had, Y/n would be the first person he would look up.

"Oystein! Make sure you take that dead plant to the garbage before you leave!" He grabbed the now brown plant and shoved it under his arm as he walked down the front steps. He noticed the grocery bike parked across the street but no sign of Y/n. He tossed the plant just as she came through the gate of the neighbors house and smiled when she saw him.

"Hi there! Heading off to make the devils music?" Y/n knew he was in a band and that metal was his favorite genre. He never understood why she wasn't afraid of him like most normal people he ran across but he wasn't going to question it.

"Of course. Just doing my part to crumble the edification of society." Euronymous said confidently with a smirk.

"Sounds like a busy day. I'd hate to interrupt." She threw her leg over the bike.

"You want a ride? You can put your bike in the back-" He gestured to the empty trunk and she shook her head.

"I'm done with my deliveries for today so I'm heading home, thanks." She appreciated the offer but she knew that wherever he was heading wasn't anywhere close to her house.

"Ah so you don't want me to know where you live? I thought we were kindred souls." Euronymous teased.

"Atheist is not the same as Satanist, Oystein. Not exactly kindred but I'd hate for you to be caught with a poser like me riding shotgun." He had never mentioned he was a Satanist but the band also frequented the Falafal joint and he's sure she's heard them discussing the direction he wanted to take Mayhem in.

And still, that didn't scare her off.

"Euronymous. My name is Euronymous." He corrected firmly. She smiled, scrunching her nose at the name like she always had.

"I'm sorry but I won't ever call you Euronymous. I just don't see it." He paused at the statement.

"See what?" He inquired.

"I know the origin of the name. You just don't give off flesh eating spirit dwelling in the underworld. Your eyes are too pretty for that one." She complimented making him cough into his hand to hide the blush creeping up his neck.

"You don't know me very well. Maybe you should come to one of my shows and you'll change your mind." He tried to sound menacing but Y/n knew just as much about Oystein as he did her.

She knew he was a good son and brother. She knew he used to get pretty decent grades when he was in school and that he's been playing his guitar since he was 10 years old. She could never see him as some cannibalistic nightmare of a person. He might think highly of himself but she had seen such a softer side of him when delivering groceries for his family.

"Maybe." She shrugged. She had often responded to his show invites with a maybe and he was always disappointed when she never showed but he understood how busy she was. She worked two jobs to take care of herself and her family.

"I'll see you around, Y/N" He held his hand up and she mockingly gave him the devil horns she had seen his sister do so often when they were listening to the loud metal music blasting from the upstairs bedroom window. He chuckled and returned the gesture.

"See you around Oystein." She watched him pull down the street and didn't even notice he was already looking at her in the rear view mirror. He would never understand how two people who were so insanely different could have such a good rapport.

[therobotmonster]

"Doctor Martin, why are you an atheist?"

Director Maria Kleinheart wasn't the sort of person who asked indirect or idle questions. She was in every way a Kleinheart, the spitting image of her grandmother. Only she wasn't staring out from a yellowed ad in a back issue of Popular Science or Woman's Day, she was staring from across desk made of polished slate.

Emil Martin didn't respond immediately. That sort of question usually came with an invitation to services or a badgering about Pascal's wager. That didn't fit what he knew about the director, though that wasn't much. An intense religious conversion would explain the rumors around her distance from the rest of her family.

"Director, is this a personal or work related question?" Emil finally asked.

"Work." She replied.

"Is that appropriate?"

"Yes. This is about security clearances."

That made even less sense. Emil decided to risk a lecture on his eternal soul and answered truthfully. "Pretty standard, insufficient evidence."

"Would you rather it be true?" She asked. "Would it be comforting to know you existed for a purpose, that someone was in charge of your existence, caring for you?"

"Not really." Emil replied. "I'm rather Hitchenisan in that regard."

"Good enough. Follow me."

-

"BE NOT AFRAID."

The words seemed to come out of the air itself. The thing was at the center of the large, expansive lab that had once been a missile silo. It was a sphere, surrounded by two rings of brass-like metal. The rings were lined with hemispherical semi-translucent white glass or crystal protrusions. The inner ring spun slowly, as did the central core, though only the faintest irregularities in its glowing blue-white corona revealed that motion.

The outer ring was held in place with steel chains, each link six inches in diameter. Two chains locked the ring to the floor, while a third latched the top to the ceiling. The cuffs the chains connected to seemed to have been welded shut around it.

"BE NOT AFRAID." It 'spoke' again. Its voice was clear and musical, but wrong and artificial at the same time. It sounded like familiar voices; his mother and father, his cousins, his old school pals, his boyfriends, even Director Kleinheart, each synthesized poorly via an AI speech simulator, all speaking in perfect time.

Every time it spoke, Emil smelled his grandfather's sweet cornbread fresh from the oven.

"That looks like an angel." He finally gasped.

"Looks like." Director Kleinheart smiled. He wasn't sure she could do that. "I knew we picked the right man."

"This is why you were asking about my beliefs?"

"Yes Doctor Martin. You see, freedom of religion is an extension of the principle of innocence until proven guilty. Once one faith is shown to be correct, all others are revealed as wrong."

"And you wanted to make sure I, what, wasn't guilty of being wrong?"

"No, the mistaken are innocent of everything except the actions they directly take." Kleinheart continued. "It's the ones who would take this to mean they were right that are fifth columnists to an unaccountable alien power."

"Oh." Emil replied. He didn't know quite what else to say.

"I want you on our team that's studying it. We need to know how it works, what it's made of, what those things its made of can be used for, you know the drill."

"BE NOT AFRAID." Again came the smell of cornbread.

"Are the restraints necessary?" Emil asked. "It is telling us we don't need to be afraid of it."

"Oh, we thought that too at first." The director said. "But we've already learned quite a bit about our little intruder here, even a bit of its 'source code' for lack of a better analogue. That message isn't meant for us."

"What is it then?"

"Can't you guess, Doctor?"

Dr. Emil Martin shrugged. "I have no idea."

"It isn't giving us a warning."

Director Kleinheart smiled for the second time in Emil's memory and spoke again.

"It's repeating its orders."

[lillypad910]

His Angel

Pairing: Bi! Eddie Munson x Bi! Christian (Baptist) raised! plus sized! girly! f! Reader

Word count: 10k

Warnings: (this is not pre-read, so it may have errors) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! smut, fingering, oral (f receiving), piv, protected sex (they wrap it), fluff (lots of it mixed in), reader identifies as an atheist after childhood trauma dealing with religious beliefs, pet names (Angel [main], Sweetheart, Baby, Baby girl), use of (y/n) but only with family members.

Summary: You were always a good girl, a good Christian girl who wanted to be loved by your family. But growing up in that house was hard. With two older brothers way older than you, and parents already in their late 50’s, your relationship with your family is… difficult. You were taught that what you are is wrong, but then you fell in love with a certain guitarist who makes you remember that you are worthy of love.

A/n: Came up with this idea a couple days ago (literally right after my last post about having writer’s block), and just went to town on it. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it!

If you wanna be tagged when I post ask or comment telling me so!

All photos found on Pinterest

You remember your childhood vividly, it wasn’t ‘bad’ for the most of it. Church was a constant play in the workings of your family home. Your mother a youth worker within the church (your church didn’t actually allow her to hold ‘pastor’ as her term), your father an old choir boy, now working a normal 9-5 job in an office building. Your family attended church every Wednesday and Sunday, every Easter, thanksgiving, and Christmas. There was no alcohol allowed in your house, not even during the holidays.

You have two older brothers, both of them were closer in age, only five years apart, while you were ten years apart from the youngest of the two, so you grew up practically on your own. You were raised primarily by your older parents, bother already reaching their 40’s when you were born.

Your oldest brother, Logan, once said in a fit of anger that you were an accident. You didn’t understand at the time, but now that you’re older, you get it.

You’ll never forget that one fated day you sat in your room, you had just turned thirteen a few weeks before. Sarah, your friend from church, someone you’ve known since you were infants, sat across from you. You were making friendship bracelets.

There was something about Sarah, she was just so… so pretty. Her long blond hair always perfectly curled, her gorgeous green eyes you could swear you could stare into for hours.

Elijah, your other friend, a boy from school, had told you that you shouldn’t act on any of your feelings for Sarah. His daddy had told him it was wrong to feel that way, to feel… attracted… to the same gender. But you couldn’t help it.

You had spent many nights sleeping over at Sarah’s and her at yours. As children you would hold hands on the playground. Your parents thought it was cute how close you two were. But as you sat in front of her that day, that beautiful day. The sun setting outside, the shades of purples and blues mixing with the warm orange, of the last golden rays highlighting her hair perfectly. You couldn’t help it.

You kissed her.

It happened so fast, you leaned over, capturing her lips with yours before pulling away. Your heart raced in your chest, beating faster, and faster, and faster. Her beautiful green eyes widened, her expression of shock was even pretty. Did she feel this way too? Did you act to fast? Before you could say anything to her, she quickly stood and ran out of the room. You heard her yell out for your mom as her foot steps made it down the stairs.

Oh no. Oh no no no no!

Your hand slapped against your chest, your heart not slowing as you began to panic. You read it all wrong, all wrong!

It’s all gone wrong. Elijah was right. I should have kept quiet. Held back.

Maybe I can play it off?

Your mother came barging into your room as you picked back up the bracelet quickly. “Hi, Momma!” You gave her a smile. It was so fake, but you just beg the lord she won’t notice. “Dewdrop,” your mother’s voice that day was stern, “did you-“ she cuts herself off, taking a deep breath, as if trying to calm her emotions, “Did you… kiss… Sarah…?”

Your brain had scattered, terrified how she was gonna react. You took too long.

She had snatched you off the rug before you could even say anything else, dragging you by your ear and down the stairs. Her hand raised before you before you could react.

Smack!

It been years since that day, as you now sit at your desk in your room, the pink floral wallpaper from your childhood always and forever familiar.

Tap! Tap!

You look over at your window, your eyes widening as you spot the long curly mop of hair even through the darkness outside. Quickly making your way to your window, opening the pane carefully, your heart racing as you are greeted by the softest, most comforting brown eyes you ever did see. “Eddie!” You whisper yell at him, your voice filled with concern and worry, “what are you doing here? You know my parents can’t see you!”

Eddie is all smiles, his eyes glancing down to your lips, “So? I thought you liked the chance of getting caught?” You roll your eyes, happy you are allowed to lock your door now that you’re older. “So…” he grips his hand tighter on the windowsill, “gonna let your boyfriend in? Or?” You immediately step back, muttering a sorry as you help him throw himself into your room without knocking anything over.

After straightening out his leather jacket and denim vest, he steps closer to you, reaching out and gripping at your nightgown, balling the fabric into his fists. “How’s my beautiful girlfriend?” You can’t help but smile at him, “I’m ok,” your hands slowly move up his chest, your eyes watching your fingers cling at his leather jacket, “how about you, Romeo?” He smiles, leaning in and giving your rosy cheek a peck, “I’ve been good, bored though.” “Oh?” “Mhmm,” His lips pressed soft kisses against your skin, getting closer and closer to your lips, before stopping. “You fucking tease…” you pout, gripping a little tighter at his jacket, making him chuckle. “Oh I’m sorry, did my good girl just swear? In her family home?” “Shut up.”

He pulls away and drops down onto your bed, spreading out across your powder blue duvet. “Come here,” he gestures for you to come lay with him, but you do something he doesn’t entirely expect.

You lift your nightgown, giving him the smallest glimpse of your white panties, the little blue bow on the front catching his eyes’ attention, before climbing over his legs. Your legs sit on either side of his hips, your center lowering just on top of his crotch, making him let out a soft groan. “Happy?” You ask, grinding your hips down and he grips at them quickly, steadying you. “Fucking swear, if you keep doing that-“ “What? You’ll do what, Munson?” Your voice is sugar sweet, faking innocence so well.

“Fuck, gonna make me cream my pants, Angel.” He sits up, adjusting his position so his hands are down on the bed behind him, propping him up. “Oh? Am I too much for you- Ah!” You gasp, cutting your sentence short as you’re flipped over, quickly looking at the door before back up at the guy on top of you. Eddie smirks down at you, his eyes glancing down at your lips. “Never,” he kisses you quickly, “ever,” another kiss, “think you’re too much for me.” He kisses your nose this time, before nuzzling it with his own.

He softly kisses you again, his lips pressing gently to yours, but slowly he picks up, kissing a little more desperately. His lips are slightly chapped, scratching a bit against your perfectly smooth lips. Your heart picks up, breath becoming more unsteady with every smooch. His hands guide down to your hips, pulling your nightgown up and to your waist, making your panties entirely visible. He pulls away, tilting his head down to the view he so desperately loves. “Could stare at you all day, Angel.” He gives you one final kiss before beginning to kiss down your neck. His fingers curl around the hem of your underwear, pulling them down slowly as his kisses travel down your clothed chest and bare stomach.

“All mine,” he hums into your skin, “all for me.” He pulls your underwear past your knees, gripping one of your thighs and pulling your shin and foot through the leg hole. “Gonna kill me one day,” he kisses along your lifted thigh. You feel yourself getting wet from his touch, his kisses sending shivers down your spine. He pulls your panties off your other leg, looking back up at your eyes before pocketing the white pair. “Mine now.” You can’t help but giggle at him, not able to count just how many crusty pairs you’ve gotten back weeks later.

His fingers move to your stomach, his palms kneading into your chubby belly like a ball of dough, before moving lower. A soft gasp leaves your lips, sounding like the most beautiful melody Eddie has ever heard as his fingers slip inside you.

Eddie swears he could watch you take his fingers all day. The way your eyebrows scrunch up, your eyes go blown, your thighs try to press together.

He leans down, brushing his nose against your clit. He watches his fingers thrust in and out of you from such close proximity, before licking your folds. Your hand quickly flies up to cover your mouth as you moan, trying to keep quiet with your parents just down the hall.

“E-Eds…!” You gasp, his free hand pressing your legs farther apart, his hips now rutting into your mattress as he buries his face in your cunt, lapping up your arousal. You let out a soft whimper as your toes curl, your hips now lifting off the bed to push into his face. Eddie removes his fingers from you, now gripping under your thighs and around to your hips, pulling your body into his face more. Your thighs squeeze around his head as you feel yourself release, gripping the duvet under you. Your eyes blur over with a few tears from the feeling, still not entirely used to being pushed to this amount of euphoria.

Your legs softly get set on the bed, a wet spot under you as Eddie climbs back up, placing a soft kiss on your stomach before smiling down at you. “Angel,” he reaches up and cups your face, tilting it to look at him, “You still with me?” It came out with a soft laugh, teasing. “Yeah,” you breathe out, breathe still heavy as you come down from the high, “Yeah, I’m here.” He smiles and pulls your nightgown back down, his obvious erection still poking at your thigh.

You sit up, glancing back at your door before turning back to your secret boyfriend. “Sweetheart,” his voice draw you back in, his fingers wrapping around your chin and pulling you against his chest as he leans back against your pillows, “don’t worry so much, you keep glancing at the door like they hear us.” He kisses your cheek, nuzzling into you. You blush as the only thing you can smell is you. “Eddie,” you quietly groan out his name, practically a whisper. He hums, fumbling with the belt to undo it. You blush as he shimmies his pants and boxers down his hips. You tilt your head to the wall, your blush spreading to your ears.

“Angel,” Eddie places his hands on your back, “look at me.” You pull back and look at him, your heart beating fast.

“You can tell me if you want to stop, Sweetheart. You know that.” He kisses your nose, his fingers slowly moving to ball your nightgown up, letting his warm fingers press to your now bare back. “Do you want to stop?” His voice is calm, no judgment present anywhere. “No… I-I wanna…” your eyes glance at your mirror, giving you sight of your door. Eddie’s eyes soften.

“Angel, you were being all confident earlier, now you’re shrinking and keep looking to make sure your door is shut.” He kisses your nose, making you melt a little into him. He hesitates for a moment, “is it… because of back then…?” You freeze, immediately your head snaps to look at him, his deep brown eyes staring at you with such love.

“Do you wanna sneak out…?” You ask, trying to dodge the reality of your trauma. Eddie’s eyes narrow, “Oh no, you’re talking about it now. You have no choice.” “What? No!” You whisper yell. “Angel,” Eddie pushes you off of him a little, making your eyes widen, the fear of rejection again banging on your heart. He pulls up his pants again, before pulling you back onto him, immediately shushing those thoughts, “Talk to me.”

“I just-“ you hesitate, you let out a deep breath, “I’m scared…” Eddie’s eyes soften, his hands sliding down to your hips, grounding you. “What of?” “Here.” The word comes out tense, your discomfort obvious, but not from him or his actions, just the place. Your room. Your house.

“Baby,” Eddie rubs his thumb over your hip, “We can pick this up tomorrow, we don’t have to-“ “No!” You immediately wince and cover your mouth at your raised voice. “I-I mean…”

A thud comes from across the house. You both freeze.

Shit.

You both scurry to get up, you pulling down your nightgown as he quickly goes to hide in your closet behind your door. You quickly shut your window, unlock your door, and sit at your desk, immediately jumping back up from the cold feeling on your —you shockingly forgot— exposed lower body. You don’t have time to grab another pair of panties so you just tuck your night gown under you and sit.

A knock comes on your door immediately after you sit. “Yes?” You call out. The door opens and your mother pops her head in, “Did you make a loud noise?” You just nod.

“Yeah sorry, I, uh, messed up my paper. Did I wake you?” She hums in response, “technically, but it’s alright. It’s almost midnight, Darling—” the nickname makes you cringe. It’s the same one she called you that day. “— make sure you get some sleep.” She smiles at you, before shutting your door and you hear steps heading back down the hall. You finally let out the breath you didn’t even realize you were holding.

Eddie sticks his head out, making sure the coast is clear before stepping out. “That was terrifying.” “Yeah no shit, Eds.” You tell him as he steps closer to you, he places his hand on your head and leans down a bit to kiss your hair. “I’ll see you tomorrow, ok?” You look up at him, “but-!” “No buts, Angel. You’re too stressed here, I’m gonna sneak you out of class tomorrow and take you somewhere more private. Then we can finish what we started.” He lets you lay your head onto his stomach for a moment.

“Fine…” you hate that he’s right. Your room hasn’t been a ‘safe space’ since you were thirteen. He gives your head one more kiss before climbing back out your window.

You and Eddie run out of the school, hand in hand, adrenaline pumping through you as you both book it to his van. It was only 12:35pm, luckily for both of you, your lunch had just started, so it was easy to walk out of ‘class’, class being the cafeteria with an annoyed teacher by the doors who doesn’t care that you leave.

You both slip into his van, giggling as you pull out one of the cassettes from his glove compartment and pop it in, Metallica immediately filling the van. “So, I was thinking, food first, maybe milkshakes at Benny’s, then maybe park somewhere?” Eddie pulls the car out of the spot in the lot. “Sounds good to me.”

You pull up to Benny’s, immediately seeing the girl you’ve had a solid crush on for two years was working. “Eds, it’s her!” You practically slap your hand over his chest. “Holly shit- uh, do I look ok? Cute?” “Always.” Eddie’s smile was genuine, but you glare at him slightly, “I don’t want ‘always’ I need an opinion!” Eddie chuckles as he watches you step out of his car, straightening your dress. “Sweetheart, I feel like she’s not gonna care-“ “Shh, don’t ruin it.”

You both step into the diner, Eddie holding the door open for you. “Take a seat anywhere!” Her voice calls out. You both take a booth by the window, Eddie giving you the side that best angles you to always be able to see her. “You’re always so supportive and I love you for it.” He smiles at your admission. “Can’t do anything without my permission, Angel.” “I know.”

“Hi, I’m Chris, I’ll be your server,” the girl you practically drool over pulls out a pen and her serving note pad, “What can I get you both?” She asks, glancing at you first before Eddie. Eddie watches you, your eyes practically glittering and he tries not to laugh. “A double cheeseburger for me, please. No onions. Sparkle over there will have a short stake of chocolate chip pancakes, two scrambled eggs with cheese and a bowl of grits, butter and cheese in that too.” The girl, Chris, smiles at him, impressed he knows the girl across from him—you—so well. “And to drink?” She just looks to Eddie this time, “Two chocolate milkshakes, and two waters. She’ll also have a cup of coffee, vanilla creamer.”

You snap out of your gaze after she begins to walk away, “Wait, what? What happened?” “You spaced.” “What!?” You look over at him, “It’s ok, Angel, I ordered for you.” You give him a soft smile. “Oh yeah? What did you order me?” “You’ll see.”

When the food arrives to the table you practically have your mouth watering on the table at the array of food, especially thankful for the cup of coffee. “I love you, you take such good care of me.” You pretend to wipe a tear from your eye. “Hmm.”

As you both eat, Eddie randomly slaps his hand down on the table, then excessively taps it, not loud enough to grab the attention of others, just you. “Oh my-“ you look up at him and see he’s looking towards the door. You turn and see a young man walking in, his long hair and attire very similar to the boy sitting across from you. “Eddie, sweetie, you’re gay is showing.” You hold your straw as you take a sip of your shake, staring at your boyfriend. “Says the girl who drools over the waitress.” Eddie shoots back. You place your hand over your heart, “you wound me, Eds.”

“Is he cute? He’s cute. Shit.” Eddie’s cheeks suddenly turn red, making you laugh. “Now who’s drooling-” “I’m not drooling…!” Eddie blushes.

When you both finish your food, you get back in his van and he drives to a secluded spot, parking behind an abandoned shopping center that no one even drives by anymore. You sit there for a moment thinking about how to initiate, before your boyfriend quickly pulls himself through the seats and into the trunk of his van.

Eddie adjusts the blankets and pillows he shoved back there earlier that morning, watching as you squeeze yourself through the seats following him. He pulls you straight onto his lap, lifting your dress up so your thighs are exposed to his hands. “I love you,” his voice is soft, pulling you in and making you swoon. “I love you more,” you wrap your arms around his neck, leaving soft kisses on his lips before moving down his jaw and neck.

Eddie’s fingers grip tighter on your thighs, nails digging into the soft skin. You exhale a soft sigh. “You’re so fucking perfect,” Eddie speaks first, grinding your hips down on his crotch, “Want you so bad, been thinking about it all day.” You giggle softly, nuzzling your nose into his cheek as you enjoy the feeling of his growing tent in his pants.

“Yeah?” You ask, nibbling at his earlobe before pulling away. He groans, annoyed you stopped but glides his hands up under your dress. “I love that you wear dresses, I don’t care if it’s technically for your mom, it gives me the perfect access to you,” his hands massage the fat on your sides, digging his thumbs in your skin, “should take it off though, don’t wanna get it dirty.”

You grip the hem of your dress and pull it over your head, your bra now visible to him. He lifts his hands up your skin and cup his fingers around the garment. You look into his eyes as you watch him continue to stare at your body, his pupils blown, making his comforting brown eyes look black. You grab his vest and jacket and help him slide it off his arms, throwing them both to the side. He yanks off the Hellfire shirt before smashing his lips onto yours, kissing you with such passion.

He pulls back, shimmying down his pants while you quickly pull off your underwear. Before the fabric is even entirely off your legs, you’re pulled back onto his lap, your back facing him this time, you look down and immediately blush. His cock is perfectly placed between your thighs, the red tip sticking out and tapping against your stomach with every twitch. “E-Eddie,” you reach back and cup his head from behind you as he grips tightly at your hips, grinding you against his length, his shaft rubbing against your clit.

“Wanna grab us a condom from behind my seat?” He asks. You nod, pulling away from him and reaching down. Eddie swears he would do it raw if he could confirm you wouldn’t get pregnant, but your parents would never allow you on birth control. You grab one of the foils and climb back up against him, opening your legs so his cock is accessible and rolling the condom down. “Relax, Angel, I’ve got you,” he kisses your cheek before lifting your hips, his cock practically jumping to press against you.

You gasp as you’re slowly pulled down, your cunt sheathing his cock without much resistance. Before long, your ass presses back on his crotch, his length fully in you. “You ok?” He asks, hearing your breath picking up. You nod, but that’s not good enough for him. He reaches up and tilts your head back to him, making you look at him, “use your words, Baby.” “I’m ok.”

Before too long your feet are planted against the bed of his van, your hips moving up and down, up and down, as you bounce yourself on him. His hands grip tightly at your waist, his soft groans giving you praise as you try not to just cum on him. “Baby,” his voice pulls you back in, making you whimper. He lifts you off of him, before turning you back around, making you straddle his lap again before going back down. His hands move down your thighs, until one slopes just below your belly, his thumb finding your clit. You crumble at the sudden addition, your head falling to his shoulder.

Eddie loves watching his little Angel crumble because of him. Watching your body shake as your thighs clench, your hands balling into fists on his chest as you try your damn best not to explode, not wanting him to stop. “Come on, Angel,” he whispers into your ear, leaving small kitten licks over your lobe, “cum for me, Baby, need to feel you cum.”

His lips press to the corner of your mouth, “Come on, Baby girl, wanna feel you, need to feel you cum.” His fingers rub harder into your clit, making you moan. Before long you’re gasping as you cry, your boyfriend thrusting up into you as your body shakes. Eddie kisses your cheeks, nose and forehead as your thighs squeeze at his hips, your body releasing around him. “There we go, such a good girl, doing so good for me, Angel,” Eddie kisses your lips as you feel his thighs getting sticky from your arousal.

He shuffles, slowly and carefully laying you back in the bed of the van, onto a blanket with a couple pillows behind your head. He doesn’t leave you, careful to not disconnect your bodies. He climbs over you, pushing your legs out and around his waist. He kisses your hairline, slowly beginning to thrust into you. Your whimpers and moans fill the air around you, his hips moving slow at first before picking up pace.

You brush his hair away from his face before pulling him closer and kissing him, your lips moving in perfect sync. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you steady as he goes a little harder.

It doesn’t take long till you cum again, this time he fucks you through it even harder, not stopping or slowing. His groans sound so hypnotic, like a praise leaving his lips without actual words. He thrusts one final time, holding his hips hard against yours as you feel his cock twitch inside you, his face scrunching as he finishes into the condom.

Eddie drops down, his lips pressing to yours repeatedly, before pulling out. Your legs shakily drop to the floorboard, cunt clenching around nothing as you try to come down from your high. He pulls off the condom, ties it off before dropping it between the seats. He pulls up his jeans and boxers before slipping your underwear back up your legs. “You did such a good job, Angel,” Eddie kisses your eyelids, before leaving a soft kiss on your lips, “I’m so proud of you.”

You can’t stop yourself from blushing as he pulls you onto his chest, laying down with you in the blankets. He snuggles into your hair, kissing your head as you smile from his kisses. “You enjoy this too much,” you enquire, giggling a little when he kisses your nose. “I do, but it’s not my fault my girl is so beautiful when she’s coming down from an orgasm.” You roll your eyes, but not in an annoyed way, you enjoy his teasing.

You don’t know what got into you as you climb down the lattice outside your window. You were never a disobedient child growing up, but for some reason you still climb down one foot after the other, time reaching 8pm as you hit the ground.

You turn to see your beautiful curly haired boyfriend grinning ear to ear at you. “I can’t believe you’re actually doing this. I’m a bad influence on you.” You glare at him but don’t deny it, cause he is. “I didn’t know what to wear, so I hope you brought something for me to change into.”

Eddie smirks as he grabs your hand, pulling you down the street and to his parked van. He opens the back, showing the few t-shirts he brought from his closet. “Pick one. Any one.” He smiles at you. You grab one of them climbing into the back before he shuts the doors behind you.

You quickly pull off your frilly floral shirt, chunking it to the side of the van, before slipping the Metallica shirt over your head. It’s a little snug, but you don’t hate it. You quickly pull your hair up in a ponytail with the red scrunchy on your wrist.

Climbing to the front, Eddie already half way there to the bar, you sit yourself in the passenger seat, quickly pulling a lipstick you stuck in your pocket and pulling down the visor to see your reflection. You apply the red lipstick, a much deeper color than you usually wear.

Eddie glances over, watching you apply the makeup. He had to be careful with staring, picturing those now perfectly red lips smothering his cock with kisses, leaving lipstick all over his shaft-

“Eddie?” You call out to him, and he looks at you again for a quick second. “Yeah?” “I just remembered I’ve never met the guys.”

It’s true, you’ve been dating for maybe 6 months, but it’s entirely secret to people you both know personally. Eddie had asked you to come to the show tonight because he wants you to meet them. The guys: Gareth, Jeff, and Kevin. He wants you to attend Hellfire meetings, meet Dustin, the kid he practically took under his wing, have you attend his shows, meet his uncle. He doesn’t want you to be a secret anymore to his side of life.

“Then you’ll get to meet them.”

Eddie and you pull up to The Hideout Tuesday night. You’re nervous pick up as he parks the van. “Hey,” Eddie reaches over and grabs your hand, “I appreciate you wanna see me play, Angel. But if you’re uncomfortable, I can take you home.” You shake your head.

You’ve been looking forward to watching him play live for months, and nows your chance. Besides, he’s already snuck you out of your house, you might as well enjoy it.

Eddie opens the car door for you, helping you out of your seat before holding your hand as you walk inside through the back entrance.

You hear laughing and talking coming from around the corner, and before long you’re dragged into a room with three boys you recognize from classes. “Hey, guys.” Eddie greets them. They all turn to you both, the messy haired blond tilting his head first. “Who’s that?” He asks. Eddie looks at you, and you look at him, your eyes more nervous than his but his soft eyes comfort you.

“Angel,” he simply says. The guys stay silent for a moment, before gasping and running up closer. “Holly shit!” You know this one, Jeff from Chemistry, practically screams as he reaches for your hand, “You’re like a whole myth at our lunch table!” You blush as it dawns in you.

He talks about you. Eddie talks about you to his friends, he might not have told them who you were until this very moment, but god damnit, he talks about you.

“Eddie can’t shut up about his ‘Sweet Angel’ practically fawning over you every lunch period.” The blond follows. “Refuses to clean his shirt of lipgloss or lipstick before school just so we’ll ask about it. Fucking bastard.” The bigger guy slaps Eddie over the head.

“Hey, it’s not my fault, I mean look at her. Can you blame me?” Eddie is practically glowing, his smile bigger than you’ve even seen it, and that’s saying something. “Wait,” Jeff looks at you for a minute, squinting his eyes. “Chemistry right? You sit towards the front?” You nod, “yeah, Jeff right?” You smile at him. “Yeah, shit, almost didn’t recognize you. Not in your usual floral dresses tonight.” “Yeah, kinda not supposed to be out past 7,” you explain easily. “Your family goes to Franklin Baptist right?” You nod.

“Damn got yourself a religious girl, Eddie?” The blond snickers to himself. You glance up at Eddie before looking back at him. Jeff speaks before you can, “The asshole is Gareth, that’s Kevin.” He points to them respectively. “Nice to meet you, and no. I’m uh, actually atheist. Just… raised Christian.” You hold your hands together in front of you.

“Hey,” a guy pops his head in from a door heading out to the bar, “on in five.” He dips out before anyone replies. “Well,” Eddie turns to you and takes your hand holding it up to his lips, “how about you go out there and sit by the bar? Get some water or something, watch us play.” His lips press a soft kiss to your knuckles making you blush, “ok.”

You sit on one of the stools by the bar, a glass of water in hand as the announcer introduces the next band. “And up next to the stage is Corroded Coffin!” A couple people yell out, raising their glasses up in the air, but not too many.

Then they all step out, the cute guy you know so well with his guitar on his front, stepping up to the front mic with such grace. “How are we all doing tonight?” His voice booms through the room and a few people again holler out, “We are Corroded Coffin, and to start the night off good, Id like to dedicate this first song to the lovely girl in the Metallica shirt by the bar. Lookin’ good, Angel!” He gestures to Jeff who immediately starts his rhythm on the guitar, Gareth following soon after on drums.

Oh my.

“Mmm, yeah!” Eddie jumps in before letting them play a bit longer. Kevin joining in with his guitar.

No he’s not.

Then they all begin it. “Ha!” Eddie continues, and the guys follow with “Do do do dodo dodo do do, do do do dodo dodo!” They repeat it a couple times before Eddie jumps back in. “Tonight… I wanna give it all to you!”

Oh no he IS.

You feel your cheeks heat up, instantly closing your eyes as you try not to giggle. “In the daaarkness… there’s so much I want to do-o-o,” both Jeff and Gareth lean into their mics “And tonight,” all three of them sing before Eddie continues on his own, “I wanna lay it at your feet,” he points directly at you, stopping his own playing to continue with the next lyric, “‘cause, Girl, I was made for you, and girl, you were made for me!” Eddie can’t help his grin, watching you trying to not die from embarrassment in the corner, “Hit it!” He yells before all the guys jump in to continue the song.

“I was made for lovin’ you, Baby! You were made for loving me! And I can’t get enough of you, Baby! Can you get enough of me?”

You cover your face but peek out through your fingers as you watch them finish the rest of the song. You have to sit through the rest of the set, trying not to giggle to yourself after the choice of an opener.

When Eddie finally meets back up with you, nearly two hours later, you glare at him through your third glass of water, “I hate you.” Eddie chuckles before throwing his arm over your shoulders, kissing your forehead, “no you don’t. You love me.”

You take a deep breath, trying to make the redness in your face go away, still not over the first song of the show. “How long,” you look up at him, sitting your glass down on the counter, “have you had that planned?” “Uh,” Eddie looks over at the backstage door before turning back to you, “couple months.” His cheeks tint, obviously embarrassed by the admission. “Eds, I told you I wanted to come to the show three days ago,” you smile at him, “and I know damn well that’s not in your original set, I’ve seen the original set list, Eddie.” You can’t help the goofy grin that pulls at the corners of your mouth.

“Might have convinced the guys the day you told me to knock out the original opener to fit the one we practiced for you…” he admits. You laugh, a solid hearty laugh, not a giggle, not a chuckle, a full on laugh. A snort finds its way in, catching you off guard. Eddie joins in immediately after it happens, covering his mouth as he tries not to do the same.

You both laugh for a good minute, just cackling to yourselves as you try to calm down. When you finally catch your breath, you speak up first, “Those poor boys, you just tortured them for the last couple of days.” He nods, his hand on your arm as he holds his stomach, “yeah, they hated me the last few days.”

You didn’t stick around too long, not wanting to test your luck with your parents and your empty bedroom. You both walk out of the bar, his arm over your shoulder, both of you giggling as you press your hand into his chest.

“(Y/n)?” A deep voice makes you freeze. Your heart stopping as you refuse to look up. “(Y/n)?” Eddie looks over at the speaker, a man who looks so similar to you, but he’s older, at least 10 years. “Can I help you?” Eddie asks, his hand gripping tighter on your shoulder. You look up and there he is.

It’s happening again.

“Yeah, you can let go of my little sister, creep.” Logan, your oldest brother, glares at Eddie, his eyes sharp and narrow. Eddie slowly lifts his hand from your shoulder, obviously just not wanting to anger the guy who’s nearly twice his size. You sigh, “Logan, he’s fine.” You place your arms over your chest, gripping your arms tightly. Logan looks at you then back at Eddie, “why are you with this guy? Who is he?” Logan steps closer, still on edge.

You take a deep breath. Here we go.

“His name is Eddie,” you tell him, looking up at him, “he’s not a creep, he’s my boyfriend, Logan.” Logan hesitates for a moment, “boyfriend? Since when did you get a boyfriend? Mom and dad know?” He scoffs when you stay silent, “take that as a no,” he looks at Eddie, glancing over his form, his clothes, hair. He’s judging him.

“So what do you do? Besides take my underaged sister to a bar.” You roll your eyes at his question. “His band plays here every week. We didn’t drink, I had a couple glasses of water, Logan.” You glare at him, getting pissed off. Logan hums in response, looking Eddie up and down, “glad you are actually dating a guy,” he speaks, “mom’s gonna be pissed he’s not from church though.”

You think for a moment, then raise a brow, “Why are you here?” Logan hesitates but you speak again before he can reply, “It’s a bar, Logan, if you thought I was drinking but I’m underaged, what am I supposed to think about you? A guy of thirty-three, past the legal drinking age? What is mom gonna think about that?”

You don’t know what got into you. Maybe it was the way your boyfriend was will to embarrass you in front of a decent crowd, maybe how he talked about you to his friends even though your relationship was supposed to be secret. Maybe it’s how he didn’t falter in front of his friends, kept staying near you and showing you love and affection. Maybe it was just… Eddie.

You glance over at the brunette standing next to you, noticing how his eyes never leave your brother, nervous. Sweet Eddie. “Go tell mom.” You suddenly say, Logan looks at you a little shocked. “She was gonna have to find out eventually, at least now I can tell her that her perfect oldest son drinks. She might actually worry about you more than me.”

“Hmm,” Logan hums before continuing to make his way towards the door, stopping right next to you, “you go down, I go down too? I’ll hold you to that.” He makes his way into the bar.

You both drive back to your street with no further problems. Eddie parks his van a street down, turning off the headlights to not get any attention drawn to you both.

“So…” Eddie mumbles out, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, “That was interesting.” You scoff lightly, leaning your head back on the headrest. “I swear, if he rats me out, he’s done for.” Your voice sounds more joking than anything, but you aren’t. “Mom hates alcohol that much?” He chuckles a bit, leaning back against his own seat and looking over at you, a small smile on his lips. “Oh completely. My parents are Baptist, Eds, alcohol is a sin to them, they refuse to even have it in the house.” “Didn’t Jesus like… turn water into wine?” You shrug, “who knows why, I’ve questioned that my entire life.”

“Logan is the oldest, right?” You nod, “yep, fifteen years older than me,” you look over and smile at him. “You mentioned once you didn’t know your brothers that well growing up,” Eddie reaches over and grabs your hand. You take a deep sigh, “yeah, since I was born when Logan was fifteen, Noah, my other brother,” you give his hand a squeeze, “the middle kid, was ten. I was an accident, not planned.”

He runs his thumb over the back of your hand, listening to you. “You know how Christians are, against abortion and all. I was closest to Noah growing up, but even that felt more like a babysitter, not a brother. Logan acts like my brother now that I’m older, but when we were kids, he was just…” you stop, raising his hand up to your lips, placing a soft kiss on his fingers. Eddie moves his hand, letting it cup around your face.

“Angel,” Eddie calls out to you, making you look at him, “It’s gonna be ok.” He gives you a soft smile, which you return. “I love you.” The words slip out of your lips naturally, little butterflies in your stomach.

You don’t know why. You’ve said those words to each other hundreds of time already, but for some reason it feels… different. It’s not just a quick phrase, a sentimental thing you say to make you and him feel good. You mean it. With all of your heart. You love him.

Eddie’s smile grows a bit bigger, “I love you.” His beautiful chocolate brown eyes gaze at you with such love you feel it. You know he means it with everything he has. You could stare at those eyes all day, hopefully one day you can.

In the morning, you sit with your family at breakfast. Your mother plates everyone food, which you help her set the table. “Oh, darling, set up a fourth setting,” your mother instructs you, “Logan is going to be here any minute.” “What?” You turn quickly to her, a tinge of discomfort in your stomach. “Logan. He’s going to be joining-“ The door bell rings.

Oh shit.

“I’ve got it!” Your father gets up and goes to answer the door, “Logan, good to see you, son!” Your oldest brother steps inside the house, hugging your father. “Hey, Pops,” Logan departs from the front door, entering the dinning space, where you stand and your mother brings out some plates and sits them down on the table. “Logan!” Your mother smiles, quickly pulling her oldest child into a hug.

“Hey, Momma, thanks for having me such short notice,” he smiles, parting from her before turning to you, “Hey, (y/n).” He holds out his arms, and you hesitate before hugging him. You don’t want to tip off your mom.

After everyone has a plate at their seat and the table is decorated in platters of pancakes, eggs, grits, and so much more, Momma really went all out, you all take your seats. “So, Logan dear,” your mom smiles at her pride and joy of a child, “we heard about Susan from Cindy at church. Why didn’t you tell us?” You look between your mother and brother, a little confused.

You know Susan, that’s Logan’s wife. You met her a couple times, a little grossed out because she is 23, closer to your age than to Logan’s. You know Cindy to be a gossip at church, her spreading the ‘rumor’— as your mother referred to it—of you kissing Sarah all those years ago.

“What happened with Susan?” You ask, making your mother to turn to you. “She was found sneaking around with Gabriel a couple months ago, apparently the affair has been going on for a year. Your brother here,” she points to Logan, “requested an annulment for the marriage with the state and church because of the adultery.” You can tell from her raising voice she’s furious about the whole affair.

“It was approved last week.” Logan informs you all, “She signed the papers only a couple days ago, no arguments made. I’m letting her keep the house, so I’m gonna get an apartment close by, so thought I’d come visit for a couple days while looking.” Your mother practically gasps with glee at the news, “So you’re gonna be closer to home? How wonderful!”

That’s the last thing you need, another set of eyes out in public watching out for you.

“Isn’t… divorce a sin…?” You ask, not trying to incriminate your brother, not at all, just genuinely confused as to why your mother would allow it, or even be happy about it. “Technically,” your father speaks, your mother finishing for him, “But only without proper cause. That whores affair is proper enough.” You nearly chock on your juice as your mother’s phrasing.

“Momma!” You yell at her, staring at her utterly shocked, “You can’t just-“ “Why not? She cheated on my baby with someone inside the church!” Your father just nods along. You look over at Logan, he’s nearly just as shocked as you are.

“You shouldn’t call her that, Momma,” Logan takes a sip from his coffee, recovering from the display, “She was still my wife.” Your mother looks a little hurt from his intervention, sagging back into her chair as if she’s a toddler being told they have to eat their veggies.

“Your mother is allowed to be upset, Logan,” your father speaks out, looking up at your brother, “just like (y/n) can speak her mind, and you can speak yours.”

Such bullshit. Your opinions never mattered growing up, do they suddenly now because you’re older?

“I need to head out to school,” you explain, standing up and taking your plate. You clean off the dish in the sink, before walking by the table again, hugging your mother and kissing your father’s cheek. “I’ll see you later today.”

The next few days are uneventful, just back and forth with school, your mother bickering you about your future, and your perfect brother hogging the bathroom. Until Saturday.

You sit in your room, changing out of your day clothes and grabbing the nightgown from the basket of clean clothes. The warm air from the weather comes in through your open window, perfectly creating that warmer atmosphere.

“I’d say keep it off.” You jump back from the sudden words spoken out, your eyes immediately darting to the window where your metal head dork of a boyfriend sits halfway in. “You scared me, Eddie…!” You whisper, “you shouldn’t be here, everyone is probably still awake.” He just shrugs at your warning.

“So who’s the car outside? It’s not your dad’s and your mom doesn’t have one herself,” he asks, moving in closer to you, pulling your nightgown from your hands and pulling you to him, your bare chest pressing to his t-shirt. “It’s Logan’s, you dingbat. And if he sees you here he might not be so keen on keeping you a secret.”

“Eh, I’ll be out before anyone notices. Though I should really teach you a thing of two about actual creeps,” he kisses your cheek, his hands pressing to your back, “maybe then you’ll learn to shut your window when you’re changing.” You roll your eyes, “you’re a jerk, Munson.” He chuckles, pushing you back onto your bed, immediately pushing at your knees to frame your legs around his waist, laying into you. “A jerk? Me?” He kisses you softly before traveling little kisses down your neck, “A tease maybe, but never a jerk, Angel.”

Your breathing gets heavy as he moves down your chest, cupping one breast in his hand before taking the other into his mouth. “Eds,” you blush, gripping at his shoulders as his cold fingers graze over your nipple. “Hmm?” “My…” you can’t help but feel your panties start getting wet, “my brother is home, and my family is still awake- mm!” You bite your lower lip, muffling the soft moan that leaves you when his teeth bite down on your hard bud.

“You can be quiet,” Eddie smirks, pulling away from your torso, “Don’t you wanna be a good girl? Be quiet for me?” You hate how he knows that shit works.

He pushes your throw pillows off your bed, pulling back the covers. “Don’t be too loud or we’ll be found, ok?” He goes lower under the sheets, right where you want him, pulling your underwear down your legs. You cover your mouth as you feel his tongue glide across your core, his fingers brushing your folds out of the way. Two digits break your entrance, making you whimper as you grab his long curls with your free hand. “E-Eds…!” You try to be quiet, your body reacting quickly to his actions.

“Go on, let it out, Angel.” His approval sends you over the edge way too soon, your thighs squeezing his head as you finish, gasping for air. Eddie leaves little kitten licks before pulling away from you. “I’m proud of you,” he leans up and kisses your neck, the smell of you very prominent on his lips. “Oh?” You lean into his kisses, just letting him do as he pleases, “why is that?”

“You may have mentioned how people are home or they’re awake, but you haven’t looked at that door once, Angel.” He smiles down at you. And he’s right, you haven’t.

Sure you’ve mentioned worry, but there is no real fear this time. Your body is completely reacting only to Eddie, sweet Eddie. Your Eddie.

“I haven’t have I?” You smile back at him, not even looking now, even though it’s been pointed out to you, “Maybe you’re a bad influence.” Eddie smiles, placing a quick kiss to your lips before stripping himself down bare, fisting himself a little once finished. “Don’t know what you think you’re doing with that without-“

Eddie digs into his jacket pocket before throwing it down and pulls out a condom, holding it up to your face. “I come prepared, my lady, no need to worry.” You hum in response, watching him rip open and roll on the condom. Once it’s on, he quickly holds at your thighs, taking no time to slowly push himself deep into you.

“Not gonna lie, Angel,” he sighs as his cock bottoms out, “I’ve been looking forward to ducking you into your white sheets for months.” You blush as he starts to move, a soft moan leaving you as his hips roll into yours. “Could fuck this pussy all day, like a fucking drug,” he kisses your cheek. You bite your lip trying to not moan, but each thrust presses that perfect spot as he knows your body just all too well.

“Eddie…” you whimper out his name, your ankles crossing behind his back. His thrusts stay slow, sensual, easing you into it as the knot already forms in your stomach. He’s gonna be the death of you one day.

He lays his head on your shoulder, tilting it downward so he can watch the place your bodies intersect, watching his cock thrust in and out of you achingly slow. “Eddie, please,” you mutter out a beg, wanting him to pick up speed, to just put you out of your misery, but he doesn’t. “Not yet, baby girl,” he kisses you once, twice, three time before staring down at you, “gonna fuck you nice a slow, watch you get sensitive before letting you finally cum.”

He does this for a good thirty minutes, making you get testy as you cling to him, wanting him to just fuck you harder. “Eddie, please.” He picks up the pace, thrusting his hips into you a little harder. You gasp, the feeling sending you so close to your climax you have to fully concentrate to not finish. “Eds..!” You grip at his shoulders.

“Go on, Baby, cum for me.” You do, harder than you’ve ever before. Your eyes water, thighs clenching around his hips as you let out the most erotic sounds. After that it only takes him a few more thrusts before he’s whimpering out an orgasm of his own, hiding his face in your hair.

You stay like that for a moment, just both catching your breath. After a few minutes he pulls away, tying the condom and dropping it in the trash can under your desk. He slips back on his boxers before climbing back onto the bed, it shifts under his weight. You turn over to him as he lays next to you, pulling the covers over you both.

“I really enjoyed that.” You speak first, pulling the pillow under your head closer. Eddie smiles at you, his body fully turned in your direction, laying on his side. His hand lifts and pushes a few loose strands of your hair behind your ear, “Yeah?” To which you nod. “I did do,” he follows up.

You feel your cheeks heat up as you hide your face into the pillow, feeling butterflies flutter around in your stomach. “Like, I really liked that,” you hope the tone expresses what you mean. You didn’t just like it, you loved it.

Eddie can’t stop the corners of his mouth from lifting, watching you hide your face, your ears turning red from your flush. He leans over and places a soft kiss against your hair. “I really liked that, too,” he emphasizes the same word and you groan as you curl into your blankets more, making him chuckle.

“Angel,” his hand presses against your bare back, his warm fingers running up and down your bare skin. It’s not sexual, just soft, comforting, like home. “I love you, so fucking much,” his voice falters a bit, immediately gravitating your attention. You snap your head up, seeing his eyes looking so soft, so loving. It makes you wanna cry.

But you don’t, taking in a shaky breath as you shift closer to him, pressing your head against his chest. “I love you, Eddie Munson. So much.” You nuzzle your face into his skin, your hands making their way around his torso, pushing him to lay on his back with you on top of him. “You make me so happy,” you mumble, leaving a couple kisses against his bare chest.

Then your door opens. The creaking of the hinges the first thing you hear before it’s followed with “Darling, do you have-“ your mother’s head pops into the doorframe, your whole world crashing as she makes direct eye contact with you.

The door bursts open, the knob banging into the wall loudly, making you jump. “Momma!” You yell out, pulling the blankets up your shoulders. She does say anything, which is somehow scarier. She just stomps farther in, gripping her fists around your powder blue comforter before yanking it back. Thankfully, Eddie sees this about to happen before you do, and grips tighter at the sheets underneath to keep you just covered.

“What in the hell is this!?” Your mother’s voice booms out, your eyes shutting tight as you flinch at her loud voice. “Momma-“ “No. Don’t ‘Momma’ me! I knew we were being too easy with you! Honey!” She walks back out, stomping her feet angrily, calling out to your father, as she makes her way down the stairs.

You both scurry out of the bed, your heart racing, “no no no no!” You quickly snatch your underwear off the floor slipping them on and following with your nightgown, Eddie doing the same with his jeans and tee. “This is so bad, this is really bad…!” You follow after her as quickly as possible, Eddie following after you.

You reach the bottom of the stairs, booking it into the dining room where your mother is already telling your father, “Momma, please, just listen-!” You feel your eyes watering, genuinely terrified as to what will happen next. “You’re… tramp of a daughter had a boy-” Eddie enters the room and your mother gestures to him aggressively, as if his presence fuels her anger more, “this boy in her room! I found them entangled together!” Your mother looks absolutely mortified.

“Please just let me explain!” You quickly cut in, looking at your father with those little doe eyes you know he can’t deny. Your father sighs, glancing at your mother then back at you then his gaze shifts to behind you, at Eddie. “Explain.” Your mother scoffs at him, “There’s nothing to explain! He’s ruined her! I can’t have another scandal with this family! Logan is already dealing with his divorce!” Your mother’s voice shakes with rage, you can feel her blood boiling from where you stand, “What will the church think?”

Your father sighs. “Sweetheart,” his eyes set on you, the same ones that used to calm you as a child, “Who is this boy?” You hesitate but straighten up your posture, glad to be given the chance. “Daddy,” you reach other to Eddie and grab his arm, pulling him forward, “This is Eddie, he’s my boyfriend.” Your mother lets out a cold laugh at this, but says nothing.

Your father takes a deep breath but before he can speak, a voice draw the attention of everyone in the room. “Oh, hey, Eddie? Good to see you again, man.”

Logan steps into the room, walking straight up to Eddie, taking his hand in his own and shaking it. “I didn’t know you were meeting everyone tonight.” He looks over at you, obviously a little confused.

“I-“ Eddie goes to speak, but your mom interrupts him. “I found him in your sister’s room, Logan. In her bed!” Logan tries not to show any drastic emotions to this news, but you catch his eye twitch. “Ah, yeah I can see where you’d consider that a problem,” he rubs the back of his neck.

“You know this boy, son?” Your father asks, pointing to Eddie, but his eyes fixed on your brother. “Yeah,” Logan speaks, looking at you one more time before shifting his gaze to your nervous boyfriend, “met him a while ago, he’s a good kid.” He pats Eddie’s shoulder. “Found out he was dating (y/n) not too long ago. They make a cute couple don’t they?” He smiles at you.

Your father looks Eddie over, “You believe in God, boy?” “Yes, sir.” Eddie speaks up decently fast, not taking any chances, but you know damn well his belief is questionable. Then the older man looks back at you, his eyes physically softening.

Your father’s always had a sweet spot for you, getting defensive when your mother would beat you for stupid things. You’re his ‘god’s blessing,’ probably the only person in this house to feel that way. And that’s what made you favor him over your mother.

“Does he treat you right? Doesn’t hit you or anything?” You smile at him, “No, sir, he’s kind and sweet. Treats me well.” You keep it simple and straight to the point. He looks back over at Eddie before continuing, “Do you love ‘em?” “Ha!” Your mother laughs, “love him? Honey, she doesn’t know-” “Yes.” You cut her off, your arms squeezing tighter on Eddie’s, “love him with all my heart, Daddy.”

Your father sighs. “If Logan thinks he’s good enough I don’t see why we should have a problem with him.” Your mother squeaks, flabbergasted by your father’s words, “because he was in her bed? This is a Christian household! I will not let a teen pregnancy tarnish this family!” “You use condoms?” The question was directed at Eddie this time, making you both flush red. “Y-Yes, sir.” “Then that’s that.” Your father stands, coming over and patting Eddie on the shoulder, “nice to meet you, Eddie,” before walking out of the room, your mother chasing after him.

You, Eddie, and Logan all stand there for a moment, a little shook after the very direct question. Logan speaks first, turning to you both. “You two are fucking stupid.” He speaks through his teeth, but he’s not angry, he’s trying not to laugh, “my God, really? At home? Come on.” He lets out a soft chuckle. “I better get something from that talk, cause Jesus save me, that was awful.” “I’ll get you a free drink at the Hideout,” Eddie follows quietly, which you just look at him. “Deal. After that shit show, I’ll fucking need it, but that’s just your payment,” Logan turns to you, “you owe me, kid. Jesus, now you know why I drink.”

Tag list:

@cagethemunson @spikeybatt @cherrycolas-things

@r-a-d-i-0-n-0-w-h-e-r-e

[queer-reader-07]

Making a Home in the Liminal Space

I grew up catholic. I was born into it, baptized as an infant, first communion in second grade, roughly 8 years in catholic school, and all of it culminated in getting confirmed at age 14. Catholicism was my life, in many ways it was my only constant in life. Schools changed, people came and went, but church was always there. Every Sunday with my family and every Wednesday with my classmates I found myself either in the pews ready to pray or in the choir area ready to play the hand chimes throughout Mass. I went to catechism every Wednesday night for years in elementary school. I attended youth group with my friends. There are still parts of the Bible that I know like the back of my hand.

But then I grew up. I grew up and I realized that I thought girls were pretty in a way that gave me butterflies in my stomach and that I didn’t quite feel like a girl anymore. I grew up and I went through changing labels before I found words like ‘queer’ and ‘trans’ and ‘asexual’ that made me feel at home. And while that home is comforting in so many ways it is also not a home that is compatible with the religion that held me for so long. Catholicism was my life, I was in Church at least twice a week for years of my life. But Catholicism doesn’t leave room for queerness, it doesn’t embrace and hold close what I am. Who I am.

A friend asked me recently if I still I identify as catholic. If I, someone who is now staunchly leftist and proudly and openly queer, aligned with a religion that is so notoriously bigoted and conservative. Easy answer, right? Just say no? How could someone like me ever call themselves a catholic? And good god, I wish it were that simple.

Because, the thing is, I tried to just say no. I tried to say “eh not really,” but it felt so deeply disingenuous. It felt wrong. How do I denounce a faith that was my life for 15 years with a simple “no”? How do I go from staunch catholic to atheist in the blink of an eye? I can’t.

To be honest, I’m not sure where I fall on the spectrum of spirituality and religiosity. It feels like a lie to say I believe in God, but it doesn’t feel anymore honest to say that I don’t believe in God.

I know I believe in love. I believe in the power we as people have to do wonderful and amazing things. I believe in hope’s ability to help one through the darkest of times. I believe in humanity, in the human story. But none of that is mutually exclusive from religion, from Catholicism.

I think, right now, I exist in the liminal space between catholic and atheist. I can’t bring myself to align myself with an institution that doesn’t believe in my right to exist. But I also can’t bring myself to fully denounce the faith that held me for so many years. I can’t bring myself to denounce the faith that was my only real constant for all those years. I haven’t been to Church on my own volition in ages, yet I refuse to take down the rosary adorned crucifix above my bed. I don’t pray all that often anymore and yet I could recite the Our Father without a second thought. I don’t go around professing any faith in God and yet the phrases “good lord” and “for the love of all that is holy” seem to leave my mouth daily. These are the things that make up the liminal space. The not quite prayer, the familiar comfort of a crucifix and rosaries about my bed, the acceptance that I’ll never have a secular vocabulary. It’s weird, it’s contradictory, and yet here I am existing in it.

There is still so much beauty I find in the world that feels like it must be more than mere coincidence. I think a lot about hope. About how it feels so unique to the human condition and I can’t help but wonder why. Did someone, something, endow us with hope? So that we could never cease in our endeavors of discovery and creativity? So that we would not lose sight of a better future? Or, did we just get lucky?

But I don’t think that’s God, necessarily. I don’t know that it’s one being, but I’m not confident it’s no being.

Existing in the liminal space is difficult. Because to be here is to know you can’t ever go back while still grappling with where you’re meant to go now. I hope that one day I find a new home, a home that isn’t built on guilt and shame for merely daring to exist. But for now, I am making a home in the liminal space. I am letting this liminal space hold me in any way it can while I work to figure out what I am outside of the church. And I hope that wherever I go next— whatever space becomes my home after I outgrow the liminal space— I hope it welcomes me with open arms and a warm embrace.

[theboarsbride]

"A Court of Thorns and Roses" Reading Update I

Page 101 - 24%

So, some major notes so far:

-I refuse to believe SJM knows how to write poor people. I refuse to believe that Feyre's family has been poor for a decade. How tf can the sisters be so dainty and act so oblivious and bitchy about work for survival after NEARLY 10 YEARS OF ECONOMIC DESTITUTION???????Just their mentalities, how they react to being poor, how they treat their belongings, how they treat their food, how they handle their money, etc. doesn't really line up.

-I can't stand SJM's writing style. SO MANY MF EM DASHES HOLY FUCK AND THEYRE IN PLACES WHERE THEY'RE UNNECESSARY. And also she reuses the same sentence structure, and it bothers meeeeee. (ex.- i was going to the bathroom, which was white and clean and shining. Then, I went to school, a place that was dull and bland and boring.) Like jfc. I wholeheartedly believe the conspiracy that no one actually edits SJM's book because good LORD.

- Feyre is dumb and deserves death. Like the instance with the Pooka. She suddenly sees her crippled father on Tamlin's land in Prythian in the middle of the night??? Given the wary hostility and aggression and distrust she's been displaying towards everyone and everything so far in Prythian, why isn't she doing the same in this instance???? She's said herself she is wary of faerie tricks, and acknowledged that not even whole, able-bodied humans are able to survive in Prythian without the help of a faerie, so why would she think her DISABLED FATHER, who is helpless in the mortal realm, be any different??? And why would she CARE that her father has come for her??? Did she not hope that her family starves without her, so that they realize she's important to them and she holds them in such an embittered contempt?????

- I LOVE Lucien <3 I like this fox-boy, he is funny and actually treats Feyre like the murderer she is (because yes, she's a murderer, and takes PRIDE in having killed a faerie. Which Feyre has some nerve being hostile to faeries who have been nothing but courteous and gracious with her, and thinking THEY are in the wrong when she was the one that MURDERED their friend).

- why couldn't Tamlin remain more like his beast form, making this more of a BATB retelling? I literally imagine him looking like Legolas but JACKED. This is where my ire of 'BATB but the beast is just a hot guy that growls or has behavioral problems' first began. It's such a shallow version of the story and completely misses the point. And the fact that this is also a retelling of The Ballad of Tam-Lin, a Scottish folktale, and does really nothing that's an homage to the story aside from Tamlin's name, the fact he shape-shifts (albeit BARELY), and there's (poorly written) fae really irks me.

-for once I want SJM to actually describe paintings rather than describing what the painting is of. I don't believe for one minute that SJM did more research into art, style, etc. because for the life of me I couldn't tell you what Feyre's art style is, nor do I really care because her having painting as a hobby is so pointless and has no effect on her character whatsoever.

- SJM is lazy as fuck with her world building. ex.- Lucien saying capital 'h' Hell, as in Christian Hell, when humans are agnostic/atheist with a sparse number of fae-worshiping cults (and were once implied to have had a polytheistic religion) and fae worship the Cauldron and other faerie deities so like.....why not use a few extra braincells to create her own version of Hell rather than using lazy cultural shorthand that, by the logic of this book's world, doesn't work????; underutilizing fae lore so now they're either underdeveloped spectral entities or LOTR elves... BORINGGGG!! GIVE US ACTUAL FAE IN LITERATURE AGAIN!!!! (*applauds Heather Fawcett's Emily Wilde's Encyclopedia of Faeries and Krystal Sutherland's House of Hollow*)

These are my major thoughts for the first quarter of the book.... See y'all again at 50%!

[krishna-sangini]

My Journey to Keshav

My journey to Keshav began when I was probably 2 or 3 years old. The tales that my grandpa and my great-granny told me; of Krishna's baal leelas, the cheer haran, His raas leela, His journey to Mathura, the slaying of Kansa, and then becoming the protector of uncountable people... All these tales I marvelled at as a toddler have the credit of hooking me onto my Keshav for the very first time.

This was just the start... Of a beautiful journey that would ultimately become my destination.

The toddler me grew up into a kid. That’s when the cartoon ‘Krishna Balram’ came onto the scene. And yeah, that show is 100% credited with making me fall head-over-heels for the sibling pair. I mean, y’all would be lying if you said you didn’t absolutely fall in love with Krishna and Balram after watching that show! Like, come on! Those two boys are simply sweethearts! Then came the ‘Little Krishna’ movie series. Ouffffff! My heart was completely occupied by the Makhan Chor by then. 

But then I entered teenage! The best phase of human life. You know, the phase everyone goes through where Westernization is considered cool and spirituality is considered ‘boring’ and ‘conservative’. Yeeeah… I fell into that ditch too. I pushed Kanha into the backseat. I got absorbed in the world of being ‘cool’ by shunning my religion and putting on the mask of atheism.

(This is not a dig at people who are genuinely atheists. Y'all are free to have your own opinions,  and I respect yours even if mine are different.) 

During those 5-6 years, I forgot all about my absolute bestie. The one who had stayed with me through every nightmare and sunshine. Needless to say, my life was a torment those years. Serious shitty family issues and my then school can be credited for that.

But again, once you’re into Krishna, he'll always find a way to bring you back if you go astray. That’s exactly what my Keshav did to me.

2020 saw the advent of the COVID-19 virus in India, and a long and tiring lockdown followed. Just as people were beginning to get frustrated to death, the good old Mahabharat and Ramayana started airing again. That was the turning point for me. Seeing Nitish Bhardwaj’s excellent portrayal of my Keshav, I was hit with the nostalgic memories of my childhood that I shared with Kanha. It was then that the thought struck me, “If a human can look so freaking beautiful, how much more radiant and divine must Kanha have looked in real life!”

And that was it. I called for Keshav after so long. He was waiting for me, perhaps. Waiting for me to call Him with all my heart, without my pride’s obstruction. I did, and He responded right away. A couple of days later was when I had that magnificent dream where my Keshav showed me a glimpse of Himself for the very first.

(I have posted about that dream here too; the link is in my pinned post. If you’re curious, you can check it out! Also, please share your Krishna story too!)

And since then, there has been no coming back.

I am now compensating for those 5 years by falling in love with my Keshav harder with each passing day. Not that I mind it. Because I absolutely love it. Now that I look back, it had been Him all along. All those times I sat crying alone in my room cuz of the mess our family was in, Keshav was there right by my side, caressing me gently. I was just too haughty to realize it. Had it not been for Him, the wicket of my life would already have toppled years ago.

Sooo, this is my journey to my Keshav. The journey that still continues; it will continue till we meet finally on the ultimate day… This journey has mended me in so many ways. It has shown me a whole new side of myself. It has helped me realize myself better. And best of all, it has made me feel my Keshav more and made me love Him much more. And I’m so so glad that I had people in my life who led me to the beginning of this journey. For this too, I thank our Manmohan.

Sooo, yeah. That’s it. How has your journey to Krishna been so far? Feel free to share!

Radhe Radhe, sakhis and sakhas! Kanha will stop by in your dream tonight~ (Yeah, he told me so himself!)

[nothorses]

just some thoughts on the whole "cultural Christianity" thing: i think many people use it to mean something I personally would call more like "Christian normativity", in other words the assumption that everything religious is Christian. Not every dickish antitheist i've encountered was raised Christian and hates all religions now because that's their only frame of reference, some of them were raised fully atheist but still assume that their (usually very stereotyped and not remotely true-to-life) image of Christianity is the only form of religiosity that exists because (white, evangelical) Christianity is the dominant form in the US. The whole "true atheism" movement of the mid-2000s (which was actually just antitheism and Islamophobia repackaged for the post-911 world) contributed a lot to the current popular view of atheists being synonymous with bad-faith antitheist cold takes in my view.

I have to say I don't really understand why atheists OR people of different religions get really into trying to debunk each other's beliefs/practices and I tend to see it as asshole behavior regardless of who is doing it, so this does color my impression of atheists when I see weirdly long twitter threads about how stupid Christianity is because X Y Z reductive descriptions of Roman Catholic theology, but no more so than when I open the Jumblr tag and every third post is complaining about Christianity instead of discussing anything actually relevant to Judaism 🤷🏻‍♂️

Yeah, I really think "Christian normativity" is a good term for it- and I like that it's kind of hard to slap that as a label onto individuals. A person is not "Christian normative", but they might have grown up under Christian hegemony, and the work of unpacking Christian normativity is likely to be long and hard.

But just like other forms of "normativity"- cisnormativity, heteronormativity- this is something everyone is influenced by, including the people who are erased by it. Trans people can still hold cisnormative ideals, and queer people can hold heternormative ideals. In fact, most do! Even after they think they've finished the work!

That doesn't mean they benefit from it, and there is no binary state of being or not being cis/heteronormative. It's something we all have to unpack over the course of our lives; being trans and queer just means it's generally more obvious that we need to start that process, and generally more obvious what to unpack.

Even then, a person with exclusively straight friends who realizes they're gay when they're 50 is probably still going to have a harder time of it than a straight ally raised by gay parents & surrounded by queer people.

Atheists are also not Christian, and there are things about Christian normativity that stick out to us because of that. Christian language in things like the pledge of alleigance, on federal currency, and in government documents, sticks out to most atheists! Mandatory prayer time in US public schools certainly stuck out to atheists, which is why atheists fought to end it.

The things a Christian-raised atheist notices are going to be different from the things an atheist-raised atheist does. Someone raised atheist in connection to a non-Christian spirituality/religion/culture is going to notice different things as well, and someone raised religious but not Christian will notice different things than all the rest.

Culture comes from everything from religion, to community, to family, to friends, to even the media you're exposed to. To imply that there is a binary state in which individual people are either Culturally Christian or Not Culturally Christian is reductive at best. There are trends, there are individuals who claim the label for themselves, and there is a cultural force that needs to be named and addressed.

But ultimately, it's always going to be more complicated than that. There will always be people who don't fit in one of those two boxes, no matter how you draw that line.

Best practice is generally to let other people decide how to categorize themselves.

[ysabelmystic]

PLEASE tell us about the shadow boi

Thank you to the at least four people who humored me on this one.

(Using it/he pronouns for the shadow in a gender neutral way)

This took place during my freshman year of high school. I was living in a newly built tract home at the time. This is the last place you'd expect a haunting to occur, but in my experience, California is funny like that. Despite the southern US seeming far more likely to actually be haunted, most of my and my family's experiences have all taken place within the California central valley. This was just the craziest and most undeniable of those experiences.

One morning around the start of the school year, I woke up at exactly 4:15am. My alarm wasn't due to go off until 5:30. Catercorner from my bed was a tall, vaguely human-shaped shadow. And by shadow I mean a dark blob that hovered in the corner rather than being attached to the wall.

Now, this was almost immediately at the start of my Exvangelical era. My parents and I were wading into deep edgy atheist territory. "Facts and logic" and all that. Instead of freaking out, I decided that I was probably hallucinating and went back to sleep. After getting home from school, I rearranged some of my furniture and put my violin stand (I was forced to play against my will but I digress...) in the shadow's corner.

This did not work, because the next morning, at exactly 4:15am, I woke up to the same shadowy blob in the corner, now covering my violin stand. This time, I turned on my phone light and shined it in the corner. The shadow didn't disappear like a normal shadow would. Instead, it seemed to rapidly melt into the adjacent closet.

I might've been an "atheist", but I couldn't completely commit myself to the idea that the supernatural was a creation of human ignorance and imagination. What I was committed to was the belief that the vast majority of "evil" and "demonic" beings were deeply misjudged and at worst just needed a friend. I did some research on shadowy beings and creatures, and found that this thing most resembled "the hat man" (despite being hatless). And since "the hat man" was "evil", surely, it either neutral or friendly. I would treat this thing with respect, and if it was just a hallucination, then wasn't it better to make friends with my hallucinations instead of demonizing them?

This was my train of thought for the next several days, as every other day or so, I was woken up at a 15 minute increment between 3:45am and 5:00am to this shadow in my room. Usually, it was in the corner, but some days it edged closer and closer to the center of the room.

About a month in, one morning, I woke up to the feeling of pressure on my legs. The shadow wasn't in the corner, but at the foot of my bed was the obvious indent in my mattress that could only come from a person sitting there.

Instead of panicking (probably because I was fucking tired), I said something along the lines of, "I don't care if you're in my room, but you have to stay in the corner".

The indent vanished and the pressure disappeared.

Nothing notable would happen for the rest of the school year. As annoyed as I was to be woken up early, in some ways, I started to appreciate the shadow in the corner. I would say good morning to him or gripe about being woken up early. I asked it for its name a few times, but I never got anything. He was just a nameless entity who lived in the corner of my room.

Sometime around February, I went off of my mood stabilizers cold-turkey. I didn't sleep for three days, and when I finally did start sleeping again, I was afraid that the change in my brain chemistry would mean that I'd never see the shadow again, and when I did, I told him that I missed him. The fact that nothing changed in the pattern of appearances is part of what convinced me that it was real.

The final time I saw it though, things changed.

It was either late May or early June. My family was about to move, and it was my final night in the house. The only things in my room were my mattress and blankets, my art desk, a couple of art supplies, and a wooden stick in my windowsill that kept it from being opened. And that final night, I said something to the effect of, "You're free now. Have fun haunting the new family," and went to sleep.

I woke up at exactly 6am. There was no shadow in my room. Instead, what I saw was the stick in my windowsill levitating in the air. It lingered for a few seconds and then fell to the ground. My window slid open, and the bag of colored pencils in the middle of my desk was knocked to the floor.

I was a little shaken, but I was more exhausted and in total disbelief than anything else, so I went back to sleep.

Later that morning, I woke up to my mom opening my door and scolding me for not being awake and for opening the window when it was so damn hot outside. The stick and pencils were also still on the floor. I asked if she had opened it, and she said that she absolutely had not.

I have no other explanation other than that it was the shadow, and that I had somehow set it free. When we moved across the country, I was actually upset with myself that I hadn't invited him along, and tried a few [failed] demon-summonings to see if I could fill the void. I don't know where he come from or why he was there, but it happened. It was weird, but given that I never felt outright afraid (and with some entities, I have), I assume he was friendly. Given that I spent most of that year being actively suicidal, he was one of the few things that brought me any joy, and was probably one of the reasons that I bothered staying alive at all. Regardless of who it was or what he was, I hope that he's dong okay.

But yeah. That's the shadow boi, and he is my number 1 reason as to why I believe in ghosts.

[holocene-sims]

next // previous

july 2, 2021 2:00 p.m. newcrest counseling center

[grant] anyhow, you know what my parents were like. vaguely, that is. one was abusive and the other was an enabler. you don’t know much about them, but definitely nothing about my sisters.

[grant] oh, and about the avoidance thing, one of the things i've avoided besides my parents is what happened to my oldest sister elizabeth. she’s the one who passed away from cancer. i mentioned her last week. i can't remember if i mentioned the cancer part.

[grant] her birthday was back on the seventeenth. i haven’t been home, like in my hometown where i grew up, on her birthday in years. but no matter where i've been, i've never felt brave enough to actively engage in my grief, if that makes sense. she’s always haunted me and so has her death and everything surrounding those events. the grief has always been there. i've just never dealt with it or really tried to open up to remembering her in a more honorable light.

[grant] and by honorable, i mean, like, genuinely talking about her and not only saying her death destroyed me and i wish she were here. i'm not trying to shove her away. i don’t mean to reject her. i mean, she never rejected me. it’s sort of wrong for me to not remember her fully. i feel immense guilt for that.

[grant] there are some people who aren’t here anymore that aren’t blessed with the luxury of being remembered, so i shouldn't even try to condemn her to the same fate. plus i think my sister is still with me somehow.

[grant] by the way, i guess i should also say that the reason i started changing my mind about hope, being more confident, and not avoiding things despite my current situation is that, well, i also feel very guilty for not fixing myself. if i have to be the one that’s alive, i'll respect her and do the right thing for myself. my sister would want me to be happy. besides, my sister had a lot of hopes in her last days, and absolutely none of them came true. i'll do my best to make the ones i can control come true.

[grant] also no, i'm not deflecting off onto someone else. i'm choosing it for myself, don’t get me wrong. i'm doing my part. it’s just, well, like i said, my family is a unit. they do matter to me. their thoughts and opinions matter. we do rely on each other. that includes elizabeth, even if she's not here.

[margot] do you feel also guilt overall that it’s you that survived?

[grant] why wouldn’t i?

[margot] it was out of your control. there’s nothing you could have done to change the situation.

[grant] i tried to. yeah, i tried, and then immediately abandoned any hope for catholicism or good nature in the universe after prayer and hoping failed.

[margot] ah, you come from a religious family.

[grant] of sorts. it’s not cut and dry conservative catholicism, though, don’t get me wrong. there are a lot of atheists or at least open-minded practitioners. bridget, my aunt, is even into wicca. except there’s my mom, she is a hardcore catholic in the not-so-fun way.

[grant] still, there’s not a single person in my family who didn’t at least attend catholic school. we’re irish catholics and yes, the catholic part is an important distinction.

[margot] perhaps that plays into the guilt aspect. generally, christianity teaches that prayer will bring good things and then…

[grant] right. and then terrible things happen anyway and your faith and hope are shattered.

[grant] but besides that, i do feel guilty because she just didn’t deserve it. i feel like i deserved it more. i've always felt that way. i don’t have as much to offer the world as she did.

[margot] neither of you deserved it. unfortunately, these awful random deaths do just happen, but it’s not about deserving. no one deserves to die.

[margot] tell me about her. what was she like? what was her role in the family?

[grant] genuinely, the best word to describe her is perfect. i don’t think she ever did anything wrong in her life and i don’t think she had the capacity to be bad at anything. she was nice, she was very generous and lovely. she was deeply religious. i guess you could just say pure of heart. beyond that, she was accomplished. straight A student, valedictorian, MVP softball player, homecoming queen, prom queen…

[grant] not that appearance matters, but she also was very pretty. standard pretty, too. she was tall and skinny and a natural blonde.

[grant] as for her role in the family...well, you know, like i said, she was the oldest out of all of us. she’s the oldest grandchild by a couple months and she was seven years older than me. and she was my mom’s favorite. she was so obviously the favorite that it’s insane. it’s like my mom lived through her. everything my mom wanted from her, she got. my sister was even planning on going to medical school and had a full scholarship to college because that’s what my mom wanted. i mean, she wanted to help people, but my mom also wanted that from her.

[margot] to be the oldest daughter and the golden child is a deeply tragic way to live. i'm sure she was many of those things on her own, but i'm also sure she was driven to excel beyond belief in everything to stabilize your mother and to avoid drawing her ire.

[grant] i know. i came to that realization, too.

[grant] also, you know how i mentioned to you that my sister wrote me a ton of letters to keep for after she died? it’s a sweet thing and something others have done out in the world, too, but her letters are above and beyond. they’re not just “i love you” letters. they’re…

[grant] well, uh, for example, the one i read last was a whole dive into religion and her beliefs and her trying to explain why she believed in catholicism. that’s heavy shit.

[grant] and also, i'm not the only one who got something from her after her death. nearly every single person got something, at least a little something.

[margot] she felt indebted. she had to do the right thing to make everyone happy, not just your mom.

[grant] yes, i think so.

[grant] she’s a good person and always was. she would have been no matter what the family situation was. but i think the situation did force her to take on the burden of taking care of others.

[grant] you know, i'm not super happy or relieved to know after remembering a couple of our last conversations and reading that one letter that she died absolutely fucking terrified of what would happen to everyone, in particular me, after she died.

[grant] that’s just so unfair. it’s not right for someone her age to be worried to that extent about other people.

[margot] that is very, very sad, and yes, incredibly unfair. those are responsibilities well beyond her age.

[grant] and she had to do most of her caring for other people in secret. she could be loving with other people in front of my mom, but there was always a limit. too much and my mom would freak out. that's another batshit insane thing to wrestle with.

[margot] were you close with elizabeth?

[grant] yes, definitely. for one, she was protective over me, but we were always close with each other anyway. we had different personalities and interests, and there was an age gap, but it didn’t matter all that much. that might have been part of why she liked me so much, since i was way younger. and i don't know, i guess i was a very agreeable and shy kid, and she was an outgoing happy-go-lucky person. that works out. a lot of people would describe me as her baby doll. that was most of our relationship, actually, um, we had a lot of fun together, and i think she liked playing big sister.

[margot] what about your other sister? what was her role? was she close with either of you?

[grant] kelly’s kind of a weird case. my mom also loved her and considered her a favorite, but kelly had free reign. at least she did until elizabeth died, then all those expectations were put on her. on me, too, actually, but kelly did live up to them in my parents’ eyes and i never could.

[grant] i can’t say my sisters got along with each other. elizabeth wanted to, but best i can remember, it was more like they just ignored each other. maybe because they were both the favorites. there was nothing pitting them against each other or making them be besties either.

[grant] actually, overall, kelly didn’t have all that much to do with any of us. she stayed with her friends most of the time. when she was around, she just did her homework or her hobbies or whatever, and wouldn’t talk all that much unless there was drama.

[margot] and what happened when there was drama?

[grant] she always took my mom’s side.

[grant] that was the dichotomy. elizabeth didn't, kelly did.

[margot] i see.

[grant] if i'm honest with you, i feel like i barely even know kelly. she left home immediately after she graduated high school. elizabeth died in 2003, then kelly turned 18 in 2004 and just straight up left. she came back one time after that and then never again. no one has talked to her since.

[margot] let me guess. that one time was when you graduated college.

[grant] yes.

[margot] i think i can assume what might have happened.

[grant] i'm sure you can.

[ha-youwish]

This is not a vent post, it’s a book recommendation and self-analysis kinda. Please consider reading this, I won’t blame you if you don’t.

Last year around this time, my granddaddy passed away. Usually, online and in formal spaces I would call him my grandfather, but that’s not what I call him and I will not limit myself for this post.

Last year around this time I was beginning my second semester of college ever. I was not doing so well. My grades were low because my attendance was abysmal and my work outside the class was shit. However the previous semester I had taken a class that I was able to stick around for more than the rest.

This class was studying how different major religions and cultures coped with death and how they thought of the afterlife. I bought the books for that class with financial aid and never read them.

Just now I got done reading one of the books, When Bad Things Happen to Good People by Harold S. Kushner, never read it until I found it sitting around today.

It’s a relatively short book, under 200 pages, about how Kushner deals with the question “Why do bad things happen to good people?” from his place as a rabbi.

Now I don’t have any sort of relationship with god. i’m not strictly atheist or anything but i tend to believe in whatever religion people want me to believe in if they ask me to pray for them or a family member.

when grandaddy died, i had nothing to fall back on. granddaddy was extremely religious and generous, i am so incredibly grateful he was involved in my life and there for me. but people from his church said it was a part of god’s plan or that there was a reason he passed when he did and when i was in such a low state at college already.

i moved away to college and the landlord sold my home. i was in an unfamiliar uncomfortable place where the only place i felt fully comfortable was now completely inaccessible. my mom moved in with grandaddy and took care of him before he passed. it was tense. he was kind but old and stubborn and so is everyone else. the drain of taking care of someone can be worth it, but that doesnt mean its not there.

i was, and am, dealing with severe depression surrounded by other gloomy people who didnt make it much better. i never went to class and i had, and have, crushing guilt that i was wasting the time and money of my family.

and then granddaddy went to the hospital. and then he died. and its unfair.

all of it is unfair, and if it was a part of gods plan then hes fucking unfair too.

now, i have not necessarily moved on. my fingers shake still if i think about it too long. i dont even know if im going to post this because of how exposed and raw i feel. but its important to me that somehow in some way this gets expressed and that someone other than myself will read it.

your suffering was unfair, whether it was a lot or a little. the world is unfair. we all know it. i hope you know that you will never be able to look into the eyes of someone who has never known suffering, and i hope you can find some comfort in that connection.

this book is from the point of view from a religious man. it talks a lot about a god i dont believe in. but the way it talks about suffering and how it effects people makes it helpful for me to parse my own feelings and thoughts.

so feel free to replace god with whatever you want, with humanity and spirit and the universe and everything good. here are some quotes, alt text included:

- sometimes i convince myself that what i feel is nothing more than chemicals, that the regret i feel from not driving home the day before and visiting before he passed was just something my mind is doing.

i once stayed up late at grandaddys house after he passed and i was shoved right back into school like my life hadnt just gotten its shit rocked.

my mom was in her room asleep, but i really couldn’t take it anymore. we stayed up late just talking through how we felt after i had cried to her. and to be completely honest, hearing that she had regrets and wished for just a little more time fucking sucked. knowing the people around you are going through it sucks, even if it was to be expected

but we connected over that long early morning. we resolved almost nothing. i felt the same as i did before and granddaddys still dead and buried. but it was easier to go on after that.

another quote, a tldr if you don’t want to read the book but want to understand what he gets at, in the end of it all.

i dont think i can forgive other people for being unfair, not without effort. but i think i can forgive the universe because the unfairness is proof that people have choices. shit happens, you choose what to do after it.

for a lot of people, mourning and religion bring them the strength to move on, as he talks about in the book. things dont get better because of prayer that god will fix everything or the universe will set itself right again or you can escape through fantasy books to another world,

they get better because something gives us strength to get up again and keep moving. to kushner, thats god and people who came together to support him. to me, i dont know yet, i dont know if i’ve really started to pick up my life yet. but i think this book helped me start to see the bigger picture

[cbk1000]

@livingdeadblondequeen So I started the Duggar documentary today, and am almost done with episode two. Here are my thoughts so far:

I actually already knew quite a lot of the details because I have a morbid fascination with this family and have done a bit of reading on the quiverfull movement, and I lurk on  r/Duggarsnark sometimes and also a few general fundie subreddits where some ex-fundamentalists have shared their own experiences. I was homeschooled through high school (I went to public school through eighth grade) and the homeschooling community was rife with families like the Duggars. No one was specifically IBLP as far as I know, but lots of kids, submissive girls who had to wear long, modest skirts and couldn’t date were all the norm. I’ll never forget one girl being pulled from a group biology class because we were discussing plant reproduction that day, and apparently that’s too sexy. My family was never super close with any of these families, but we did a monthly get-together at a church with a large group of homeschoolers, and then a few families started a weekly one where we would have group classes (biology, English, etc.) so that we could get some socialization outside of our families. So I did spend some time around them and hear about some of their beliefs, which were wild to me because I was raised in a household that was very politically conservative, but even my dad, who is fairly religious, does not like organised religion, and so we never attended church, and my mom always kind of identified as agnostic. And as soon as I was old enough to sort out my own beliefs from my parents’, I went the straight up atheist route.

That being said, while nothing is much of a surprise, it’s still incredibly fucked up to hear directly from the victims.

I’m enraged all over again that Jill and Jessa had to come out on national television and talk about their perv brother touching them and that they felt the burden of publicly forgiving him and smoothing things over so the cash cow could keep going.

The spanking demonstrations??? The audience laughing??

Also enraged all over again how much Michelle and JimBob downplayed Josh’s actions.

Speaking of Josh, boy hit the wall HARD and FAST. I think he’s the picture in Dorian Grey’s attic. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer person.

I did not actually know they had a big bonfire and burned all their Disney stuff and ‘inappropriate books.’ Nothing says things are going swimmingly like a good old-fashioned book-burning.

When Michelle almost dies during her pregnancy with Josie, and good ol’ JimBob is on TV weeping his fake-ass tears. SHUT THE FUCK UP AND STOP BREEDING HER LIKE A COW AND MAYBE THIS WOULDN’T HAPPEN.

The fact that these people literally beat the individuality out of their kids and then brag about how well-behaved and obedient they are. I’ma blanket train YOU, Michelle.

[bandedbulbussnarfblat]

sometimes, i really wish i didn't live in the bible belt.

i've been atheist my whole life. or at least, once i got old enough to question things instead of just blindly accept what my parents told me. though i was never good at that either, i was one of those kids that had to know things. i never bought into the tooth fairy or easter bunny, and i thought santa was just a game we all played and pretended to believe it. the idea of god felt the same to me, like some thing we were just pretending to believe in

except the grownups (and even some of the kids) actually believed it. so i went along with it, because my mom made me go to church with her, so it wasn't like i had a choice. but it never felt true to me, though i tried to make it feel real

i was 11 when i realized i never would and never could. i had tried to force myself to believe, but it never worked. i knew, deep inside, that there was no higher power. more so, i knew i couldn't keep spending my life living a lie. i knew i'd never be the believer i pretended to be.

and that scared me. not because the idea of hell or anything, but because i'd sat through more than one sermon and heard about how non-believers would burn in hell with the sinners. and my church 'family' seemed to agree. so that let me know that these people who called themselves my friends would be fine with seeing me burn in hell for all eternity, just because i didn't believe in the same invisible man in the sky as them

i didn't even believe in hell, but just imagine that. knowing that the people you've known your whole life believe you deserve to be punished forever for not believing what they believe. i'd already spent my entire life feeling like an outsider (multiple undiagnosed mental illnesses/disorders) so when i realized i could never be what these people wanted me to be, that i would never be able to convince myself to believe, it terrified me.

so much so that i got 'saved' in front of the congregation the next sunday. i pretended to believe as hard as i could. hell, i even wrote fake entries into my diary just in case anyone found it and read it

i was so afraid to admit i didn't believe. but so angry that i had to pretend. so i questioned things and made people uncomfortable. eventually, i had enough and said i was atheist. i was more angry than scared by then, fueled by teenage angst and hormones and the undiagnosed depression/anxiety disorders

in the end, I stopped going to church when my mother stopped forcing me. but the damage had already been done. i'd spent years trying to shove myself into a box i didn't fit it, for people that frankly didn't deserve that kind of sacrifice on my part

and there are still people who hear that i don't believe and judge me. who try to convert me. who think of me as less than them bc i don't believe what they believe.

i don't know why i'm thinking of this today. maybe bc my country is hurtling into evangelical christian fascism and that scares me. but i think growing up like that gave me some low-key religious trauma

and now I'll have to go back to work soon. where i'll have coworkers who ask me about where i go to church, who try to invite me to there's. to students who sometimes ask me questions about religion, and I have to say i'm "not religious" bc if i say i'm an atheist there's a good chance parents will complain about me teaching their child

i've literally heard a coworker being gossiped about and mistrusted bc he's openly atheist. people blatantly admitting they don't want to work with him. so i stay in my lane and stick to myself and try not to engage with these people beyond a professional level

i have to sit in anger, when we're forced to do something like pray in school, something that isn't supposed to be legal. hell, our superintendent makes us all pray with him when we have our yearly meetings

add to that i'm pretty far left when it comes to politics, i'm queer, and neurodivergant i don't feel like there's a place for me here. i live in a very conservative area. i'm talking majority trump fans conservative. but i'm trapped, too poor to escape. and it eats at me sometimes, being around all these people who if they knew me, would condemn me. even if i believe in letting people believe or disbelieve whatever they want and minding my own damn business about it

sometimes, i really wish i didn't live in the bible belt

[spaceyflowerswriting]

encouraging (jace park x reader)

details: kind of a crack/fluffy drabble, gender neutral reader who is friends with mira; reader is only mentioned lol, general canon au, you and jace are strangers

summary: jace is a nervous wreck over his blind date with you so his friends are showing support to help him feel better.

a/n: OK I NEED TO MAKE IT CLEAR reader is Only mentioned. like seriously. this was just an excuse to write silly family antics ft burn knuckles and j high gang im sorry

also this scenario. it doesnt make any sense for jace to be in a classroom with the fashion department students because they're in different departments but just ignore that logic <3

×

"Jace, how have--JESUS CHRIST!"

"Huh...?" Jace honestly looked like a mess at the moment. He barely got any sleep in the past few days and he'd been out of it. Couldn't even focus on Burn Knuckles's group workouts, couldn't even focus in class. He only snapped out of his daze from staring out the window thanks to Zack.

The guy had jumped a good distance back while his girlfriend still stood nearby, a hand clasped over her mouth.

"I've never said that in my entire atheist life but--" Zack straightened up, blinking himself back into focus or he would've gone on a tangent. "Nevermind. Jace, what the hell happened to you?"

"Yeah, are you okay?" Mira added, brows creasing in worry.

"I'm fine," was Jace's automatic reply, which made Zack walk back to him to give him a light punch on the shoulder.

"Pull yourself together! Are you like this because of the blind date Mira set you up on?!"

"Oh... so you know, too..." Jace put his head in his hands.

"Of course I do--"

Before he could finish, he was interrupted by a, "Hah!" Zoe dramatically spun around in her seat, facing the three. "Pretty sure the whole school knows. The Burn Knuckles guys won't stop talking about it! They even put up posters to support you."

"Ah..." This was to be expected, of course, with how overly supportive the group was, but Jace still felt embarrassed. At the same time he had too much anxiety to even think about it. All he felt thankful for at the moment was the fact that his blind date wasn't someone in the school.

Zack frowned. "Hey, c'mon, man. You signed up for this. At least own it."

Mira gave him a small nudge with her elbow and Zack quickly murmured an apology. She turned back to the poor guy seated in his desk, offering words of sympathy. "I'm sorry, Jace. I didn't think you'd get this stressed out. You can back out if you want, my friend would understand--"

Jace shook his head. "No, I'm fine. I swear."

"Ah...?"

"Plus, Zack's right." Jace's palms were getting sweaty. How could he just "own it" though? Sure, he had a lot more common sense than the other boys around, but he still had little experience in the romance field! Not to mention, the last time he thought he was getting somewhere with his love life, it crumbled into a lie. What if it was the same with his new blind date?!

No... no way. That was an entirely different situation. He really did have to pull himself together. What was he thinking? He shouldn't let one girl ruin his trust. Maybe this new person would be his soulmate! Not to mention, they were a friend of Mira's, and Mira knew how to spot fake people from genuine people. Her friend had to be a good person.

Zoe reached over to tap the front of Jace's desk, interrupting his thoughts and making him look up. "Are you seriously that bothered? Cheer up!" She gave him a bubbly smile. "Remember Mira only asked you because she said her friend specifically had an interest in nerdy guys? You're already their type! It's a win-win!"

Mira nodded reassuringly and Jace glanced at her and then back at Zoe. "I... I guess."

"Yeah, so don't worry! Plus, for an architect guy, you actually have good style so you're good in the fashion department."

"What's that mean--" Jace started, until he remembered how he had to ask Jay for help to dress up Vasco when he had a blind date a while ago. The memory made him smile a bit and he started to ease up very slightly. He meant this in the nicest way possible, but if even Vasco could have a good blind date, then surely he could also.

Speaking of his beloved friend, the man came bursting into the classroom with a cake in his hand.

...With the rest of Burn Knuckles following after.

"JACE! WE'VE PREPARED A FAREWELL PARTY FOR YOU!"

"I'm not going off to war or something!!" Jace immediately shouted back.

"THEN A PRE-CELEBRATION!" Vasco offered instead, the members behind him echoing, "A PRE-CELEBRATION!!"

Suddenly filled with bare minimum confidence (and the support of his best pals), Jace shot up from his seat. "Alright... let's celebrate!!" He ended up running out of the classroom with his gang, a skip in his step.

Zack turned to his friends as soon as the door shut behind Jace. "Who wants to make bets?" Mira gave him a much harder elbow nudge. "Ow... I was just kidding, haha..."

[strwberriehore]

If I get the chance to live

Realistically it would take years for me to get to a good spot mentally and physically

Maybe 1-3 years

I’m also at a point where nothing is worth this pain, nothing

It’s 24/7 with my situation

If the only way I can escape is to die then I can accept

I’ve tried so hard and for so long to survive and you don’t get more energy as you age

I don’t have anything left in me

Knowing I tried my hardest and still couldn’t live brings me peace

I can’t leave without trying

At least I got to be by the beach for a while

I hate feeling like I never got to live like I’m trying to survive everyday

I feel like I was doomed from the start anyways like I never had a chance but I tried so hard

I feel like I was never a person and I’m just taking up space

Every now and then I get that nothing is real feeling about everything around me including myself and I can see how easy it is for the next thought to be about death if nothing is real

I’ve gotten to a point where the people I liked the most are dead so joining them is appealing

No one wants to die but I can see why people are so happy about pain ending

There’s so many different sources of pain, I’m out numbered, I don’t stand a chance alone

I’m an atheist and usually assume being dead is like being asleep

But sometimes I really hope there’s an afterlife or something

To think of being gone forever with such a cold dark harsh end of nothingness is difficult

The idea of past lives seems most appealing to me

But that’s just what I want, only one way to find out what happens after you die I guess

I feel like things have never gotten easy only harder and I feel like I can’t hold on anymore

I want to but I can’t, I’m in too much pain and it’s paralyzing, I can only sleep or curl up into fetal position and rock myself to ease the anxiety

Sometimes I close my eyes tight when in fetal position shaking rocking crying with my hands over my ears saying over and over and over again “STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP”

Sometimes I get surprised when that helps me relax

I need sensitivity but I’m getting the opposite

I never had a home

My anxiety has always been bad, I remember at 8 years old I barely had any skin left on my arms, another reason I don’t shave my arms, the hair and freckles hide the scars very well . My family even has pictures and you can see the wounds.

That’s when my dad and babysitter were molesting me, leaving ne with cold sores and my mom beating me and I was so young I couldn’t handle it so idk why I started scratching and ripping the skin off my body, sometimes my legs or chest etc

There was nothing I could do to stop it and it lasted years I was 8 years old, I didn’t know what to do

I remember one wound on my arm during summer school because it was open for over a month and that scared me… it started to stop healing

I had to practice intense self control every few minutes to not dig at it to let it heal

Maybe it’s the endorphins your body releases when hurt to combat the pain or maybe it was a distraction from mental pain

I noticed when my anxiety is bad I need to do something like that or run my fingers through my hair

It started so young I can’t tell you why I did it

I was just in pain and I didn’t understand anything

I guess nothings changed

I don’t like this life

I don’t want it

The nothingness of death is bliss compared to pain

I would argue depression is a cancer

I feel like if I didn’t experience so many horrible things so young I wouldn’t have this dark cloud

Like if I didn’t experience problems until adulthood when I was more mentally prepared to handle it

Kids don’t understand anything so they don’t have to mental tools to handle trauma so it kinda breaks them

I feel like I started a race with an extra 100 pounds strapped to me and everyone else is an Olympic athlete with their perfect supportive family cheering them on, the weight holding me down is the family that was supposed to be helping me, not holding me back

I can’t catch up now !

My mom said she’d take care of my cats, that’s my main concern if I die before them. I literally have nothing else to live for except spite but my desire to not be in pain ever again might be stronger. At this point it’s never going to stop, it only makes sense that things will get worse, harder, and somehow even more painful. Why would the pain lessen? That doesn’t make sense.

I did the escorting to survive and instead of helping me I was shamed for not just rolling over and immediately dying I guess, what else could I do? Being alive isn’t free and people treat you like shit if you look poor like clothes with holes in them or same clothes over and over

I remember buying my first wallet because I kept my money in a plastic bag since I was so poor, this wasn’t that long ago

And it hurts so much when I use all my energy to ask for help and I get attacked instead

I can only feel my pain before I decide I never want to feel it again

This is like cancer, I want to die before it kills me

Being alive isn’t worth being treated like shit and feeling so much pain

When I really think of ways to die like get into the details of how when where etc I realize how complicated it is because you don’t want to try and fail so it needs to be planned perfectly to avoid staying alive but with disabilities

So you need to account for any mistakes etc, I don’t want to try without being 100% I’ll succeed

I have no one willing to help me that isn’t trying to hurt me

No one has reached out to help without an alternative motive. Never the intent to actually help

No one can survive alone, no one. I’m alone

The people that live the longest are those who get the most help in life

There’s a reason married men live longer than single (google it)

My “parents” are in the same building but they aren’t my parents.

I guess you all got what you wanted

I just hope you feel twice as much pain and for longer. Especially everyone on YouTube. I hope you experience the most painful and slow death ever, you truly deserve it.

I have nothing to look forward to besides the final freedom from pain

I need my way and extreme justice against all of those who hurt me 2023 especially kels and Ian Noel Ethan Joe etc… and money to stay alive

I’m okay with death if I can’t get justice since that means if I don’t get justice I still get to escape the pain of everything and think of never feeling anxious or sad or angry or scared ever again sounds like heaven

Even if there’s no afterlife, nothingness is bliss compared to pain

It’s not like I had a great life and someone was a little mean to me recently HA !

It’s cruel to extend pain for the sack of being alive

I wish I could sign up for a euthanasia program, I read about one in a different country and it said depression could qualify you, that sounds amazing. To guarantee no pain and you won’t be alone and no worry of messing up and staying alive after. Like a controlled drug overdose. Maybe I could start a gofundme for a one way plane ticket to that hospital and I’d have a little party giving away all my stuff.

Hearing my sister died and people said she had so much ahead of her but if I died I know people would say that I wasn’t in pain anymore. No one thinks I have a future and knows my past was only torture

Even my sister made good money and travelled, something I still want to do but I can accept it not happening, some people are born in countries without clean drinking water so maybe I was just born in a bad place too. Some babies die from sids and some toddlers die in car accidents. Horrible things happened all the time to those that deserve it the least. Maybe I’m just one of those people that just got a bad deck of cards in the game of life. I almost hate that it got this far, I remember planning to kill myself at 18, almost like I just hoped I wouldn’t wake up that day. I wanted to die when I was 8, 18, and 28. I keep holding on but with age I realize maybe the next life was meant to be better hopefully and it’s just waiting for me, I feel stupid for holding onto hope that one day everything won’t be so painful. None of the pain was worth it and I wish I died the first time I felt this way when I was around 7.

It’s weird sometimes people tell me to kill myself and other times I feel like people won’t let me die like I’m just kept alive for torture and entertainment

Maybe the escape I’ve so desperate to find is just death and I keep seeing it everywhere, when is it my turn

What do you expect me to make minimum wage and live with my parents til I die of old age? That life is excruciating wtf it’s not that simple

(I’m also scared that I’m already dead, hearing how my sister died reminds me of the night I blacked out in the hotel like what if I died and I’m a ghost and I need to move on and I wanted my family with Cody but it didn’t happen because I died, did that man drug me? That sounds like a horror movie but the human brain is scary and can do anything like what if I can’t accept my own death? I know that sounds crazy but doctors have said being alone too much makes you think too much) I’m just so scared because is my sister really dead? If she isn’t then that’s scary too because I saw and touched a cold body… could it have been a doll? I’m so scared everything my parents are saying about my sister dying sounds like me when I did the escorting with the Hispanic guy and I blacked out and hotel staff found me… saying she was supposed to get married and have kids, on that timeline I was in good terms with Cody about doing all that. I feel like I’m watching my own death like I’m not real and need to kill myself to get back to where I need to be. I have the self awareness to realize this sounds crazy but it would be weird for the same exact thing to happen to my sister??? I guess in time I’ll find out the truth or I’ll just die . Like what if I’m experiencing what happens when you die and my soul or consciousness is processing it. What a coincidence I’m with my parents? Def no more drugs oh my god, plus I’m just technically seeing the connection between the two events and I’m traumatized by seeing my little sisters dead body. I’m so fucking scared, all options are bad, either she’s dead or I’m dead or someone was evil enough to fake her death. Am I in denial because I can’t accept the truth? What is the truth? Everyone lies to me and I think I have autism so have a hard time understanding others I think I’m having an anxiety attack. Best outcome no one is dead and someone is just mad…. Worst is I’m dead? Because that’s the least likely and it’s probably someone doing this to hurt me. I’m scared my depression mixed with drugs and bullying and isolation is killing my brain . Please hand me a gun and make it easy . Like Gypsy rose, I don’t think I have it in me and want someone else to do it for me like assisted suicide. I can’t remember my last happy day, it’s been so long!! I’m so fucking scared , when will I know the truth ? Is that why Eric said stop escorting, because it killed Me? Or are they doing this to me on purpose..How could I stop if you don’t give me money first! I need money now not later I’m dying now! I’ll be dead later it’ll be too late !!!

If you want me to not kill myself I need ALL the bad things that happened to me the past few years to happen to all the people that did it to me and it will last 2 years and all the bullying of me deleted with apologies on top of punishments. This is never going to change ever. I’d rather die than not get the justice I deserve. After everything I’ve been through! You knew this would kill me and you still did it knowing that. You’re a murderer and you deserve to feel a pain worse than I’ve ever felt. Names will be in my suicide note so you can get punished when I’m gone since it’s your fault for being the final trigger.

I’ve already accepted both outcomes, either justice or my final death. My life is so bad it needs to end before it gets worse. obviously there’s one outcome I prefer but I’ve wanted to die for so long I don’t care anymore and I have a sense of peace knowing I tried my hardest to stay alive like doing that gave me permission to finally die. I did what I was supposed to on this earth, try my hardest to get the best life possible, I did everything I could and it wasn’t enough. As my mom’s friend would say I filled my cup. I used everything I could to escape. I hate feeling like I’m going to die with my entire life being torture and pain, I wish I could experience good things before I die, that’s the only thing I hate. But why would that happen?? It only makes sense for things to get more painful and harder if I look at patterns. Almost like I need to accept the truth to move on. Who is dead and who isn’t.. and I see too many patterns and it scares me because I don’t know what it means, it was 8 months after that hotel when Cody gave up on me and it’s been 8 months since that. What does it all mean or am I finding pointless similarities

Maybe I just can’t accept my sisters death??? And my brain is going crazy because of it?? I’m so fucking scared I need help. Nothing feels real anymore like maybe I’m TOO traumatized and it’s literally destroying my brain.

If there’s an afterlife or ghosts I’ll be sure to haunt you all lol

No one wants to die they just don’t want to be in pain anymore

I’m so fucking scared please

[mangodestroyer]

Does anyone else see Crowley as being, like, the celestial version of an atheist/agnostic? I'm agnostic and I can kinda see a lot of my non-religiosity in him. I'm not saying this cause he's a demon. He literally cannot comply with either Heaven nor Hell's way of doing things.

Aziraphale reminds me of someone who really wanted to cling onto the beliefs they were raised with, but still has his doubts and questions things. But despite his doubts and despite his good friend telling him his beliefs might not be correct, he still stubbornly clings to them sometimes because he isn't ready to accept that they might just be wrong. Eventually though, something happens that proves that the beliefs he was raised with aren't infallible and he ends up in the same boat as Crowley.

I'm writing a human AU right now where these two are in their mid-20's, and this is something I have thought about a lot. I highly doubt either of them would be religious. I see Crowley as being agnostic because he questions things a lot and can't seem to just settle on one ideology. Also because Crowley is a bit of a wreck and this can add to his anguish, as thinking about these things too much can cause him existential dread and anxiety. I also think there's a chance he may have witnessed some religious influence growing up, but also had a lot of atheist influence.

Aziraphale, like I said, seems like he clung to the beliefs he was raised with growing up. His family were probably Christians. They didn't have to be abusive, per se, but with how much Christianity was pushed onto Aziraphale, it might come off as religious abuse because he probably was way too afraid of pissing off God as a child. It probably wasn't until he was a teenager when he started having his doubts. You see, Aziraphale was probably also a very smart and inquisitive kid. Human Azi would easily be a gifted individual. He would have definitely been a straight A student and enjoyed school.

He also likes to look into things. When he started having his doubts, he probably started looking at counter-arguments for religion. It probably took him a long time to accept that his beliefs were probably not correct because he was afraid he'd go to Hell if he admitted that he couldn't hold onto these beliefs in good faith. However, I personally believe that he would finally admit to himself that he doesn't believe in God. He doesn't believe in any God. He doesn't think it's very likely that a God or after life exists because he couldn't find any evidence to suggest otherwise.

In other words, he's an atheist and he's happy with that. I feel like he'd just be okay with not having to worry about whether or not there is a God or an afterlife. I think as long as he got to read a lot of books, eat delicious food, and spend his life with Crowley, one life would be enough for him. And of course, he isn't judgemental of those who aren't on the same page. He's not the type of atheist who gets mad at people for not being atheist. It's just the conclusion he came to and is happy with.

I'm not trying to take jabs at anyone who happens to be religious. This is just what I see these characters believing as humans. I've known religious people in real life who are very intelligent individuals. And atheists/agnostics who are dumb. Humans are complex so their belief in whether or not a God exists is only a small part of them and is not a defining feature. For me personally, this is just a cool and relatable part of their characters to explore. I also just love the dynamic of an anxious agnostic with a comfortable atheist.