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01zfan · 6 months

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understanding my faith | l. at

churchboy!anton x fem!reader | 2.4k words

i wouldn’t describe this as fluff or angst but just yearning.

contains: biblical references, issues with church involving lack of faith in god, reader is compared to an angel. anton is a church boy in the choir heh

umf: part one | part two | part three

it wasn’t luck that anton met you. luck was for something random, like finding money on the ground. luck was getting on the bus and finding a seat. anton knew you were more than something random and you were more than something from this earth. anything that came to anton’s mind you were more than that. you were above this plane of existence. something far greater.

anton had been in the church choir his whole life. his first interaction with the church started off as a baby, baptized before he could remember. when he could remember, he started as a child in the congregation. standing and sitting for hours, repeating hymns and having to stay awake through the boring service. anton remembers thinking about what other kids his age were doing at this time in the morning. usually sleeping, but kids always had their sunday’s free. that’s what he was most jealous of. being able to sleep in on a sunday was something anton always wanted to do.

the only reprieve from being a perfect churchgoer was when all the kids got to have fun during breakfast in the middle of service. anton played with kids, he wasn’t an outcast. but thats only because he didn’t show his age mates his true colors. anton recalled sitting in a circle with the other kids, talking about what they loved about god. when it got to him, anton wasn’t sure what to say. without thinking, he expressed lack of faith. when he saw the look in their eyes, the look of uncertainty anton immediately backtracked. he said he was thankful for god’s forgiveness and he passed the “cross of speaking” to the next in line. anton was at risk of being a pariah, until he passed the cross to you.

anton never understood beauty. his congregation often talked about beauty through several women mentioned in the bible. paintings of these religious figures never moved him. he could appreciate the artistry, but never understood the word beauty. anton wondered if something was wrong with him, if a little devil was working against him finding anything beautiful. when he saw you, anton understood. this is what beauty was described as in the bible.

when you got the cross. you looked to anton. he almost immediately looked away, picking at the laces of his shoes. he hated publicly speaking. he hated feeling people look at him. here you were, looking at him with a gaze that felt more powerful than god himself.

“i don’t think god is real.” you said simply.

a pen could’ve dropped in the church hall. everyone looked towards you. a kid, with the cross in the hand saying something like that in the house of god. the youth pastor tried to save the situation, but you stayed steadfast in your opposition of god.

ten years had passed since you left the church and people still occasionally brought you up. anton remained involved with the church, moving from the choir as an alto then becoming the cello player. outside lessons made him an integral part of the church, and the church took over his life. he was there every day of the week. if it wasn’t for choir practice, it was for a random event that was being hosted at the church. anton often volunteered. he thought it would look good on college applications, but he always felt ridiculous being so involved as someone who was closer to a nonbeliever than a believer.

he must admit, the church became something close to a sanctuary for him. with his parents being so strict sometimes the church would be the only place he could go. anton would go there after school to study. being a senior member of the choir meant he had keys to get into the church.

sometimes anton would study, other times he would sit in the pews, in the vast room by himself. he would look up at the stained glass panels, the empty pews. he would look at the large organ, its pipes going all the way to the ceiling. anton wondered about the hands that were used to build this church, if they were hands blessed by god himself. anton would sometimes rest his head on the pew in front of him thinking about what it would take for a man to understand faith.

anton closed his eyes, trying to imagine what god looked like. sometimes he’d open them to the sound of his mom calling him telling him to come home, opening his eyes in a dark church.

“hello?”

anton opened his eyes and saw you, standing in the aisle. he saw you sideways, his head bent oddly to rest on the pew. you were wearing a beautiful white dress. you had to wear a neutral cardigan, probably to hide the scandalous neckline of the dress. anton couldn’t help but stare at you. light came through the stained glass windows, casting a beautiful light on your face. everything about church felt so scratchy to him, like the wool sweater of his schools’ unifrom. but you looked warm and inviting.

“hi. sorry. the pastor said i could come find you for help?”

anton realized he was staring. he got up from the pew a little too fast. you were in the aisle, and he sat in the middle of the pew so he had to shuffle through to get to you. when he stood in front of you, he knew who you were immediately.

“you’re back?” anton could feel his eyes widen. you looked like the same girl anton saw in the margins of biblical text, daydreamed about when service droned on. you had the same eyes he locked with and the same smile when you acknowledged him.

“anton?” your eyes grew wide. anton’s only grew wider. you remembered him? “the pastor said the choir lead was here i didn’t know it was you.”

anton wasn’t sure what to do. when you gave him a hug that was the first time he ever felt something so deeply in the church. it started in his heart, then blossomed to his whole body, taking control of his arms to wrap them around you.

“it’s so nice to see a familiar face around here you have no idea.”

you pulled away too soon. anton had his hands at his sides now, unsure what to do.

“what are you doing here?” anton hasn’t seen you since you left. your parents moved away, he was never sure why. of course their were rumors about your family moving. anton always thought it was ironic how the church loved to gossip.

“i moved back here with my mom and she wants me to get back into the church. i was in the choir when i left and so i thought i’d try to come back.” you fiddled with a ring on your pinky finger. anton eyed the ring, trying to remember which finger the taken girls wore, the ones that had a boyfriend.

“i am the choir leader.” anton looked at his cello sitting in the pew. he wasn’t sure if you had seen it.

“not a youth pastor?” anton remembers the two of you mocking the clean cut teenagers that were forced to wrangle the kids of the church.

“definitely not.” anton replied a little too fast. something about what he did made you laugh, booming through the empty room. anton looked around the room. the architecture of the room was designed to fill the room with sound. anton can’t believe that this room was made to amplify speeches that droned on and boring music. your laugh was the only sound that needed to be played in this room.

“sorry i’m a little loud. i forgot proper church etiquette.” you put a hand over your mouth.

“no it’s okay. the pastor told you to find me right? to show you the music?” anton wanted you to laugh again it made everything in this room make more sense.

“yeah sorry. he said you can show me and teach me the music. if it’s not too much trouble.”

“i don’t mind.” anton was reaching in the pew for his cello while you walked to the front of the room, by all the instruments. anton saw you wander near the microphone.

“there’s extra sheet music in the stool.” anton needed you to not look at him while he set his things up. you nodded and opened the cover of the seat. “everything we’ve been doing lately is in a folder.”

after grabbing the music, you sat on the stool of the piano.

anton has never set up his cello so carefully. he was conscious of you looking at him, watching him set up his equipment. anton wondered if you knew anything about the cello, if you would ask to touch his. for some reason, his hands were shaking when he rubbed his bow against the rosin, making sure the hairs were coated.

“ah perfect.” you grabbed the folder, placing all the music on an extra music stand. you sat across from anton, looking at him waiting to suggest a song.

“we’ve been playing be thou my vision alot recently. it’s on the easier side so we can do that first. .”

“alrighty. lets do it.”

anton was about to start playing before you stuck up a finger, to get him to stop. he froze, bow getting ready to pull the first note from his instrument he watched you warmup quickly, and take a drink from your water bottle. it was new for anton to follow someone else during practice. it was always him leading everyone, even if they were older.

after you were done you nodded towards him. he started playing at tempo. you joined in exactly on time, something people in the choir struggled with. your voice was angelic, as beautiful as he remembered. it was hard for him to stay with your singing, he wanted to stop playing cello to focus on your voice. so many never took the time to learn the pronunciation of the hymns, just guessing and going with those around them. you knew what you were singing, with a conviction anton had never seen. your voice bellowed through the room, but anton felt wrapped in your voice. it was something he had never felt before.

anton hated playing cello for the choir. but he would play until his hands bled, until ever hair on his bow was torn if it meant you were singing with him.

“was that good?” you asked. did you think he’d say no?”

“you sounded amazing. like an angel.” anton wishes he was lying. you came in like an angel, sang like you learned from god himself. everything in the bible was making sense the more he looked at you.

“you’ve always been too nice to me anton.”

you were nice like an angel too.

“i’m only telling the truth.” anton put his bow back on the stand

“i’m not just talking about now,” you were next to him now. “before my family moved you were always so nice to us. you were kind, never joined in the rumors or stuck your nose up at me.”

anton remembered the way the congregation treated your family. uninvited or not told about events. they made an example out of your family, what would happen if you expressed lack of faith. anton assumed the rumors about religious persecution being the cause of you disappearing one day wasn’t completely untrue.

“that was never me. i never thought it was that serious to be so rude to someone else because they show lack of faith.” anton felt nervous mentioning this in front of the large peeling painting of the virgin mary. as if someone was overhearing, and then his family would be the next ones getting chased out.

“are you a nonbeliever?” anton looked from his sheet music to see your wide eyes.

“no of course not! my whole life is the church.” anton wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince you or himself.

“it’s okay if you are. i’m sure you know where i stand.” you sat in the chair next to anton now.

“you still don’t believe?” anton whispered it. maybe the paintings could hear him.

“i have been trying to practice my faith.”

“i’ve been trying to understand my faith.” anton said quickly. he said it to not make you feel alone, but he realized he had accidentally confessed. he had never said it out loud, not even to the priest during confessionals.

“what do you mean?” you asked.

“practicing it comes easy to me,” anton motions towards his cello for effect. “playing the music, memorizing hymns, understanding prayers, reciting passages. thats like second nature to me. but understanding why i do all of it is hard.” anton has wrote this in his diary many times. the one he keeps locked away from his parents overbearing eyes. it was hard to tell it to someone else of flesh and blood. but something about how the light always followed you made him believe you were made of something more.

anton watched you ponder about what he said. if it was anyone else he would’ve panicked. but he just watched you think.

“maybe we can help eachother.” you say finally.

“what do you mean?” anton put his cello on the ground next to him.

“help me practice faith and maybe i can help you understand it. maybe i was sent here to help you. you called me an angel after all.”

“how do you plan on helping me understand it?”

you pull a piece of his sheet music toward you, and write something on it.

“i’m sure we will figure it out.” you smile at anton and he wishes he had his cello to hide behind. you stand up, walking towards the exit of the room.

“bye anton. i think we both should be getting home. it’s late.” you say to him while walking out.

just as you leave, antons phone buzzes in his pocket. a text from his mom saying he should be home and it’s getting late. anton can’t control the heavy beating in his heart as he looks at your phone number, writing in the margins of his sheet music.

anton looks up to the sculpture of jesus on the cross. from this angle, it looks like he’s smiling down at him.

sacrilegious masterlist

#01zfan: anton #seriez: understanding my faith #seriez: sacrilegious #anton smut #riize smut

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dwtdog · 2 months

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Nursing Home AU, from the list of reverse tropes

DNF, ~1.7k words, fun little drabble as a break from finals :33

George’s walker catches on a stray piece of carpet and he grumbles, waving off the nearby nurse who turns her head toward him. He can handle this himself, thank you very much.

He straightens his back as he nears the door that he knows opens to the room just above his, all the complaints he’s built up in the weeks since his upstairs neighbors moved in at the tip of his tongue as he raises a fist to knock, grunting slightly at the way his shoulder creaks with the effort.

After three quick, hard knocks that he’s sure will be audible through whatever hearing impairment burdens the person behind the door, he studies the decorations with a careful eye. There are unframed pictures scattered across the door, some close to falling off the weak adhesives that secure them. George has to hold himself back from pressing them back down, telling himself that whoever is pictured in them probably deserves to have their treasured family pictures swept up by the night workers.

Because they’ve made George’s life a living hell.

He didn’t think his time in a nursing home could get any worse, until this neighbor moved in. It was like they had bricks attached to the bottoms of their shoes and frequently performed tap dancing routines, or like they had a particularly rambunctious pet elephant that traipsed around the place at all hours of the day.

George had done his best to be patient. He really had, but it’d been long enough. He’s dealing with this here, and now.

As if summoned by his thoughts, the door handle turns, and the solid wood slowly eases open towards him. He shuffles back to avoid being hit, because he doesn’t exactly trust them to be caring of his health now.

The deep frown that he’s been wearing since he was awoken that morning by thundering footsteps directly above his bed shifts to something softer when he sees the man opening the door.

The first thing George notices about him are the eyes- a golden yellow that he knows is really green, set in a kind face weathered with smile lines. The second thing George notices is that he does not, in fact, have bricks attached to his shoes, and that brings the frown right back to his face.

“Uh- Hello. How can I help you?” the man asks, and he sounds nice enough. George thinks it’s an elaborate front.

“Are you aware,” George starts, bringing his eyes up from the mans shoes. “That there are people living below you?”

He blinks. “It would be pretty weird if they didn’t, yeah?”

“So you are aware them,” George clears his throat, crossing his arms. “That you should consider that before stomping around up here like a bull with dementia?”

George almost finds it satisfying, to watch the way his expression goes from open and friendly to sour, the way his stance comes to mirror George’s, down to the crossed arms.

“So it’s a sin for a man to walk around his own house now is it?” he says, and George finds it hard to take him seriously with the ridiculous hat covering silvery hair- it’s pointed at the corners, taking a shape similar to the ears of a cat. “Just turn down your hearing aids.”

“Don’t need them,” George says curtly, rubbing a finger over the skin of his left ring finger, a habit he hadn’t dropped since his divorce. It draws his eyes to the same place on the man across from him, and he notices that he wears no ring either. “And it is a sin if you’re disrupting my sleep.”

He looks ready to argue back, but his eyes dart down to the movement of George’s finger, and he seems to change his mind. “Listen if you want to debate the bible, the lady three doors down can go for hours. Let’s say, instead, you come in for a cup of hot chocolate. Get all your complaining out.”

George shifts on his feet, feeling his hip pop as he does, and it reminds him that sitting down sometime soon would be nice….

“Fine. But if there’s no vodka in that chocolate I’m stealing something.”

With a small smile that makes George’s heart flutter in a way it hasn’t in decades, the man steps aside, pushing the door all the way open. “I’m Dream, by the way. I don’t think you introduced yourself.”

“George,” he replies as he steps forward, struggling for a moment to lift his walker over the edge between the hall and Dream’s carpet. “Strange name.”

Dream laughs, and George is distracted from looking over every inch of his apartment when a small animal appears, walking with its tail held high.

“You have a cat,” he observes, and Dream turns from where he’d been pouring milk to heat up. George sets his walker to the side as he ever so carefully crouches down to pet the thing, smiling to himself when it purrs.

“He likes you,” Dream says, and there’s a note of fondness in his voice. “That’s Spirit. He probably hates my stomping just as much as you do.”

“Oh, you’re a smart one then, aren’t you,” George coos, rubbing under the cats chin. He’s a big cat, with long orange fur and some spots of gray on his muzzle, and ridiculously long whiskers that tickle where they brush against George’s leg. “You ought to bite him more. Maybe piss on his bed,” George says in a faux whiper, leaning down as much as he can.

“Oh, so now you’re trying to turn my cat against me?” Dream says, and George nearly jumps from the sudden proximity. “Need a hand up?”

George huffs, glaring at the offered hand but taking it anyway, groaning loudly as he stands. “So you can walk quietly,” he grumbles, eyeing the distance between he kitchenette and his current position.

“Only when I want to” Dream says with a wink, and George really wishes he still had his own cane- a much better weapon. “Come here, sit down before I have to call someone to help you. God forbid that new one- what’s her name- Rosa, god forbid she shows up. She’d have you on the ambulance in a matter of minutes.”

George laughs, following as Dream leads him to a chair in the living area, acutely aware of their still connected hands. “She on this floor too? Sent my neighbor to hospice for a cough. Haven’t seen her since.”

As George lowers himself onto the chair, Dream still doesn’t let his hand go, and George can feel a blush, of all things, creeping up his neck and staining his face.

“You planning to hold my hand forever, or-” George suggests, just as the microwave beeps. “Don’t tell me you microwaved the milk.”

“How else would I do it?” Dream asks, pulling his hand back and turning back to his microwaved milk. “You want peppermint?”

“I want vodka. And I don’t know, on the stove, maybe?”

“Too much work,” Dream says cheerily, and George sighs, long and exaggerated.

He looks around Dream’s living space as he waits, noting the various pictures with his seemingly excessively large family. It’s not the only thing he’s looking for, but he can’t help but notice the lack of any sort of spouse.

“Snooping around already?” Dream asks as he returns, two steaming mugs in his hands. “You could probably find my whole life’s story on these walls.”

George meets his eye as he hands a mug over, wrapping his easily chilled hands around it gratefully. Dream takes the chair opposite his, and watches as George takes his first sip. As much as he wants to hate whatever microwaved monstrosity is swirling in the mug, he has to admit that it tastes damn good.

“‘T’s good,” he says into the mug, not missing the way Dream’s face lights up at the admission. “Family recipe?”

“Nope, all mine,” Dream says with a grin. “Come on, I know you have questions. Hit me.”

George hums, making a show of thinking it over. The burning question feels too obvious, and too revealing. He’s only just met this man a few minutes ago, he shouldn’t be asking about his love life. And yet-

“No wife?” he asks bluntly, taking a big sip right after.

Dream laughs, setting his own mug aside as he leans forward, planting his elbows on his knees. “Nope. Never settled down. Always felt like I was chasing something just out of reach, like I needed to wait until the perfect person came along. And now look at me,” he laughs again, this time sounding more forced. “Left in a home to die alone. Probably doesn’t help I only realized it wasn’t a wife I should have been looking for what, ten years ago?”

George leans back in his chair, studying Dream in a new light. “Trust me, men aren’t worth it either. My husband filed for divorce, what, 20 years back? Never even bothered to tell me why. One day there, the next, gone. Took everything too.”

“That why you ended up in Florida? Don’t meet many British people around here.”

“Wanted to die under the sun,” George says easily, the alcohol warming his veins. “London was too grey, too many memories. I always loved it here.”

They sit in silence for a bit after that, only broken by Spirit jumping up to George’s lap with a loud meow.

“So no kids?” George asks, easing one of Spirit’s big paws away from where it’s kneading at his shorts, claws digging into his skin.

“You’ve got the only one on your lap,” Dream says. “Well, grandkid, technically. His mom was mine too.”

George nods, tangling his fingers in the long fur. “You ever think about second chances?”

“I think I’m on third’s by now,” Dream chuckles, meeting George’s eyes curiously. “Why, you rethinking the way you introduced yourself?”

“In your dream’s,” George says with a grin. “But I wouldn’t mind coming over again- to tell you off, probably.”

“And to pet my cat. And drink my vodka.”

“That too,” George nods. “Might need to visit a lot, then.”

“Well,” Dream shifts in his seat, and he appears to be fighting off a smile. It still reaches his eyes, and George can’t help but think of the man he sees on the walls- happy, glowing. Hopeful. “Then I guess I’d have to let you in. As an apology for the stomping.”

#cq.writing #dnf #old man yaoi 🎉#if yall want any of the other prompts lmk this was fun

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esleep · 1 year

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something some people fail to understand about the character names in Dune is that the ridiculously basic names like “paul” and “jessica” and “duncan” serve as slightly jarring reminders that this is all taking place in the far-distant future of our very own society. it’s such a fanciful future not rooted in reality that it can be easy to lose track of that sometimes until you read the name “duncan idaho” or references to the “orange catholic bible” and are reminded that oh yeah, our current earth has a place in the history of this world

#i have a lot of thoughts about this but i have a hard time explaining them well #had a discussion with friends recently on the topic that i avoided getting into this with but i regret that now tbh #i wonder what they would’ve had to say about it #i just didn’t have the energy to try and express myself at the time #and no one else is a freak like me who thinks about dune this often #so the moment has long passed #anyway. star wars is so busted for this but dune is not and this is why.#duneposting

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foolishlovers · 6 months

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hii could i request some of your favoruite human au fics? nothing specific :))

ahhh always!! i have so many!! 💜

Postcards From Paris by ghostrat (12k, G) Crowley has just moved into his Mayfair apartment and finds a postcard addressed to the previous tenant. With no return address, he's left to collect and read the mysterious A.Z.F.'s adventures across Europe, where he hunts for bizarre bibles and rates ridiculously expensive wine in his free time. The question is: How will A.Z.F. react when Crowley finally gets his return address and writes back? --- It was different, he knew, to accidentally read someone else’s postcard versus intentionally perusing one in place of good newspaper over coffee. Crowley decided he was allowed that indecency, to balance out the good deed of safeguarding the mail in the first place. He kicked his feet up onto his desk, scooped up the takeaway coffee that was brought around by their newest intern, and settled in to read some of the most densely crowded handwriting he’d ever laid eyes on.

London, Libraries & Love by wolftea (13k, E, WIP) Smiling warmly at the huddles of students, Aziraphale made his way over to Crowley, who was leaning against his desk. Crowley was dressed in layers of all black (as per usual), his red hair was tied back in a loose ponytail (not as usual, he often wore it down) and he was twirling Aziraphale’s fountain pen between his fingers. “Mister Fell.” Crowley drawled, but the warmth in his amber eyes and the upward curve of his mouth betrayed any attempt at appearing nonchalant. Aziraphale found himself grinning. How on Earth had he ever disliked this man? “Crowley.” He said, eyes crinkling as he plucked the pen out of Crowley’s hands and put it back by his notebook.

New Approaches by FeralTuxedo (19k, M) Aziraphale Fell, Professor of Creative Writing at Tadfield University, welcomes the attendees of the First Conference on New Approaches to Genre Fiction. Among them is keynote speaker and best-selling thriller author Anthony J. Crowley. Aziraphale has not seen him for twenty-five years. Sometimes, he can still feel the ghost of their parting kiss on his lips. Or: Exes reunite at academic conference. A Human University Professor/Author AU.

muddle through somehow by curtaincall (27k, T) Aziraphale Fell runs a successful food blog, Celestial Comestibles, where he shares mouthwatering recipes and heartwarming stories about his happy domestic life in a cottage with his husband and son. As promotion for his upcoming cookbook, his publishers run a contest: one lucky winner will get to spend Christmas with Aziraphale and his family. What the publishers don't know is that the real Aziraphale Fell is a single city-dweller. And if he wants to keep up his happily married persona, he'll have to acquire a cottage, husband, and son before Christmas. As it happens, his friend and neighbor Anthony Crowley has his nephew staying with him for the holidays. One fake marriage proposal later, and everything seems tickety-boo--as long as Aziraphale can keep from developing inconveniently real feelings for his pretend husband…

First Class (Hons) Christmas, University of Tadfield. by heloluv (41k, M) Dr. A.Z. Fell is a renowned literature tutor at the prestigious University of Tadfield. December is upon the University, and Dr. Fell is leading the Christmas Charity Drive. He needs volunteers. Dr. A.J. Crowley is a skilled plant ecologist who recently began his tenure at UoT. He can't stand Christmas, and nothing at all could ever possibly convince him to partake in "festivities". Until a certain literary expert catches his eye. A Christmas and New Years fic, in which Aziraphale teaches Crowley how to enjoy the most wonderful time of the year.

Fledging by FeralTuxedo (53k, M) Cool Dad was at the school gate again. Clambering out of his ridiculous sports car like a great big spider, all black denim and designer sunglasses. What a prat. He made his way towards the entrance, followed by his equally lanky son. All the mums' eyes were on him. Which was fine. At least they weren't staring at Aziraphale for a change. Cool Dad high-fived his son goodbye, because of course he did, then sauntered back to his car. Making it look so bloody easy. Aziraphale Fell is much too young to be looking after eleven-year old Pepper. He barely has his life together as it is, with his minimum-wage job and a half-baked dream of trading rare books for a living. And as if adopting a recently bereaved pre-teen isn’t enough, there are some rather more adult problems to navigate: playground politics, the shadows of his own childhood, and the growing question of how Crowley, the only other dad at the school gate, feels about him. A human AU/kid fic.

Golden Handcuffs by seekwill (70k, E) Far from any city, near the Scottish coast, Tadfield College has a celebrated history, an unrivaled academic reputation, and two departments at war. When the Biology and English departments are forced to share a building, Senior Lecturer and botanist Anthony Crowley finds himself drawn into the orbit of the polite but strange English professor, Dr. Aziraphale Fell. As the new term begins, two academics navigate the politics of both their offices and academia, and try to solve the puzzle of one another.

South Downs by summerofspock (76k, E) Blackballed from the industry ten years ago, Anthony Crowley jumps at the chance to star in a new Regency romance miniseries with well-known gay actor Aziraphale Fell in the hopes that it will help him restart his career. The trouble is, Crowley has played all sorts of characters and for the life of him, he can't figure out why he's struggling to play the romantic lead opposite a man.

Or Be Nice by charlottemadison (151k, E) Crowley and Aziraphale are neighbours. And…it does not go at all well, until it does. A human AU in which Aziraphale is a bookseller, Crowley is a drummer, and they are both petty disasters in the worst/best way. +++ “So what’s your deal?” “My-my-my deal?” Aziraphale stammered. “I’m a bookseller, is my deal.” “Oh,” Crowley replied, sounding as uninterested as it was possible to sound. “It’s just, I couldn’t help overhearing, and --” Aziraphale swallowed hard. “You really are an accomplished musician. But I thought -- for after 11PM -- perhaps we could reach some arrangement?” “Arrangement?” Aziraphale felt his his smile turning forced. “Such as, perhaps, playing the drums before eleven? Instead of after?” Crowley stared blankly at him. In fact he stared for so long that Aziraphale briefly wondered if he'd lapsed into ancient Greek again, which he was known to do in bad dreams or during panic attacks.

#i could probably make another 20 parts but!!#i wanna gush about all these individually ngl sjsjsj #anon #answered #good omens #good omens fic rec #good omens fanfic #good omens human au #aziracrow #aziracrow fic #foolish recs

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creature-wizard · 8 months

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"If the Law of Assumption is fake, what about the success stories?"

This is a question gotten a few times, so I figured I'd do a post on it.

First of all, the methods used by LOA practitioners to change their beliefs about themselves would certainly have profound psychological benefits to many people who'd internalized false beliefs about their personal agency and value as people. There are a lot of great brain hacks here to break yourself out of learned helplessness and unwittingly sabotaging yourself and others through the Pygmalion Effect.

Here I would like to state: if these methods have helped you regain your personal agency, learn to love yourself, and develop healthy relationships with people, then by all means keep doing them. There's nothing wrong with using affirmations or using a little make-believe to make yourself believe.

Next, there's really know way of knowing for sure whether the LOA actually had anything to do with people's apparent successes. Like if somebody tries to manifest money and finds a hundred dollar bill on the ground within a week, it doesn't necessarily mean that the LOA was the cause of that. Sometimes people just find dropped money; it's not exactly statistically improbable.

Of course, it also doesn't mean that they didn't somehow metaphysically arrange for a hundred dollar bill to come their way. But even if they did, it wouldn't prove that Neville Goddard was right about literally everything, much less the extreme solipsism he pushes in pieces like The Pruning Shears of Revision.

We've also got to remember confirmation bias, where people are more likely to remember things that support their beliefs and dismiss whatever doesn't. Somebody might try to manifest a hundred things, get five of those things, and count the five as proof the LOA works, ignoring the ninety five that didn't. The reality is that the more things you try to manifest, the more likely it is that at least one of them will actually happen.

Also, there's the whole affirm and persist/living in the end deal, where people are supposed to just behave as if they have everything they want. When you see people posting about their successes, they might just very well be trying to act as if their desires have already manifested. They might not actually have it at all.

Finally, people just lie sometimes. Tumblr itself was host to the infamous hivliving, a blogger who lied about having HIV, among... many other things. If you ever want to learn just how ridiculously dedicated someone can be to keeping up a lie online, look into the story of MsScribe sometime. If you think nobody in the LOA community is lying, I got a bridge in Brooklyn to sell you.

In fact, Neville Goddard most probably lied about some pretty important shit. You've probably learned that he learned about the Law of Assumption from this Ethiopian rabbi named Abdullah, who supposedly got it from Kabbalah.

The thing is, if you've studied mysticism and the occult for any length of time, you pretty quickly realize that claiming to have been taught by a mysterious foreigner is pretty much just code for "I pulled it out of my ass."

It's also pretty obvious that the Law of Assumption has more in common with New Thought and Protestant beliefs about divine reward and punishment than it does with Kabbalah, which is a closed practice to non-Jews. (If you want to know about the history of Kabbalah, and get enough of an idea of what it's actually about so that you know why the Law of Assumption has nothing to do with it, I recommend Dr. Justin Sledge's lecture series over here.)

Additionally, Goddard's claim that the Kabbalah actually supports his obviously Christian form of mysticism isn't only just absurd, it echoes centuries of antisemitic Christians claiming that Kabbalah actually proves that Jesus is the messiah in order to try and convert Jews.

Goddard's use of the Bible, by the way, is appalling. If you've ever read the texts he quote, it's obvious that he's just ripping passages completely out of context to spin them into something that was definitely never intended by the writers. In other words, he's blatantly lying. (And by the way, if you ever want to learn about the real history of early Christianity, I recommend the work of Dr. Bart D. Ehrman. He's also got a YouTube channel over here.)

Now tell me this: if Neville Goddard so blatantly and so brazenly lied about the source of his ideas, why should we believe him when he claims that the Law of Assumption can do literally anything? Shouldn't we consider that maybe, just maybe, he might have lied about some of that other stuff, too?

#law of assumption #loa #loassumption #neville goddard #abdullah

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bloodypeachblog · 1 year

Note

You got any daddy Sammy Headcanons?

You fucking bet I do!

Sammy Lawrence headcanons

(This is with F!Reader, btw)

~~~♡♡♡~~~

• Sometimes his personality when he was human can show when something doesn't go right or his way or he's just annoyed. He can be a real asshole when he's like that. But if he upsets you, he would apologize later.

• the instance you responded to his 'can I get an amen?' tape with an 'amen', he fell for you almost instantly. He knew that his savior has blessed him with you, you had to be his bride. He waits til you fall asleep and he carries you to his room. You're his now.

• the songs he writes for you? Oh so lovely and romantic. He even plays them on his banjo and sings them for you.

• when he likes you, he can get a bit flustered and tongue-tied at times. When you've been together for a long time, he gets a bit better with that, but his inky heart still flutters when he sees you and hears your voice.

• if you can't sleep, he would sing you a lullaby or tell you a story from his bible (he wrote one where it's basically the christian bible, but Bendy is Jesus) until you fall asleep.

• he lets you join him on his searches for sacrifices and sometimes lets you choose their fates. They'll still die, but you get to choose how they die.

• Total. Drama. Queen. But not in a way that'd make you hate him, more in the way where you can't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it.

• guy's mind is stuck in the 1920-1930's, so if you show him something like, an iPhone, or you dress in modern clothing, his brain would probably implode.

• he LOVES listening to you read passages from his bible during sermons. He just marvels your words and pays very close attention. You could see a big smile though his mask.

• the same goes vice versa, he speaks with such energy and dedication and he smiles to himself when he sees you're just so enthralled by his preaching.

• basically when he speaks about you, he's exactly how Gomez Addams talks about Morticia. He ADORES you.

• "I would die for her. I would kill for her. Either way, what bliss." "To think, Lord Bendy has blessed me with such a beautiful angel such as yourself." "To live without you, only that would be death." "I cannot see, I am blinded by such beauty."

• pet names: Darling, Love, Angel, my little lamb, my sweet, Dear, Dearest.

♡NSFW♡

• master of seduction. Just, pure incubus skills. His soft voice makes you melt, and he knows it.

• oh he is all for foreplay. He wants his little pet to be ready for him.

• his cock is about 6 inches and pretty thick, but that's thanks to the blessings of the ink.

• *psst!* if he wanted, he could grow two of them to double-penetrate you, but he'll immediately pass out once he cums because it takes twice the energy, so he doesn't do it often.

• he wouldn't exactly whisper dirty words, but the way he phrases things...

• "don't be afraid, it's what our Lord wishes. We wouldn't want to disappoint him, now would we?" "You're so wet for me, how sweet.." "I'm so blessed that you're mine.." "You're doing so well, love..." "Just relax and let us share this bliss that our Lord has blessed us with." "Perhaps Lord Bendy will bless us with little sheep of our own tonight.."

• kinks? Well...he does like tying you up nice and tight. Can't let the little lamb run off, can he? No, he cannot. He has a praise kink, where he just loves to praise you for being such a good little wife.

• he LOVES to tease you and make you beg for him. The grin and deep chuckle he lets out from hearing your begs will make you melt.

• he'll make sure you cum a few times before he does. You'll be putty in his hands when he's done with you.

• yes, he cuddles you during the afterglow. He also whispers loving words into your ear, making sure you feel loved and cherished, because you are.

#batim sammy lawrence #batim #batim smut #batim sammy headcanons #sammy lawrence headcanons #sammy lawrence x reader #sammy lawrence #whoo mama #hallelujah #praise be unto him #all praise our lord and savior bendy

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cathedralcomic · 4 months

Note

sorry if this is too broad of a question - can you tell me a little bit about how you go about planning all this? i struggle so much with figuring out a theme and worldbuilding when i try to write. i never know where to even start. i really admire what you have going here, i dont know how to explain it but it feels so special. ur really talented and i cant wait to hear more ab cathedral :3

first off thank you SO much!

theme and worldbuilding had definitely been a struggle early on, and sometimes only time will build them for you. i’ve worked on this story for… a while, its modern incarnation going back to 2018 while its first is from 2013. i know that timeframe sounds daunting and a little ridiculous to some writers, but maybe you haven’t given your stories space to breathe and grow organically. using inspiration from your favorite movies/books/tv shows/etc. is also huge. cathedral wouldn’t be what it is today without my inspirations. and obviously listening to seasoned writers explain their process or offer advice helps. i’ve listened to so many podcasts and tedtalks and video essays over the years about creative writing, i even watched a few masterclasses. you won’t enjoy all of them but it’s good to hear multiple perspectives.

buuuut try not to get caught in a loop of always learning and never writing, pair the two throughout your journey. + puhleeeease write a guide for yourself. it is so crucial for planning/keeping track of everything. it doesn’t have to be fancy, just throw all your ideas and character/world notes into a google doc so you can readily access them. don’t be erin hunter make a story bible (new shirt idea)

#ask #i feel like the advice i give is a little redundant but it’s what works for me and i’ll repeat myself a 100 times if i have to!#if you have the $ for a masterclass david lynch’s fucking slapped

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gimmethosedaddymilkers · 1 year

Text

Cardinal Sins and Other Desires

Okay, I know I have other requests that were submitted first, but I this weekend is a writing weekend because I need to decompress my mind and I wanna do something fun

But this one was requested by @cantchoosejust1 who offered a very interesting idea of Arthur and reader having to disguise themselves as a priest and a nun....and have some...interesting times.

I-

The idea is so juicy I had no choice but to do it.

This is my take on it but of course @cantchoosejust1 if it doesn’t match your expectations I’d love to take another stab at it!

It’s also probably gonna be a bit of a longer read, so strap in!

With that being said

Warnings!: NSFW, Uhhh religious type things but it’s sexy so like....if that offends you don’t read, arthur being delicious, female reader

Tags!: @mrsarthurmorgan7 @kieropal @photo1030 @pcotarelo @6kaja9

Alright, that being said, everyone, hold onto your butts, let’s get this horny train rolling!

“Dutch, this has got to be your dumbest idea yet.”

Arthur scoffs as he looks down at the ridiculous looking outfit that Hosea and Dutch have managed to just barely squeeze him into, his arms raised out to his sides.

A set of Priest’s robes that match the Nun outfit you’re wearing, and you can’t help but agree with him, you feel absolutely idiotic wearing the long black robe with it’s white accents and hood.

The black robe Arthur dons is plain, matching black buttons, and something similar to a miniature poncho rests against his shoulders, that signature white collar sits around his neck, but if it’d been a single size smaller he’d be choking.

“I have to agree.” You sigh and look down at yourself, and at the rosary beads that Hosea had placed in your hand. “This is a stupid idea. The two of us couldn’t pass off as religious figures, are you kidding me? I couldn’t quote a single thing from the Bible.”

Arthur snorts in agreement and puts his arms down to his sides, looking up at his two father figures with a grimace on his face.

It was early evening, and Shady Belle seems far more inviting than going out into Saint Denis, into a Church of all places too.

“The two of you need to look on the logical side of this!” Dutch crosses his arms and stares at the two of you, his nostrils flaring in annoyance. “That Church has money in it, I know it does. We got a decent tip on it, and this is the best way to get in there and get it without causing a huge scene.”

“Why us though?” You can’t help but let the question slip out of your mouth.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like working with Arthur, quite the opposite actually. Arthur was fantastic to work with, he got the job done right, and he got it done quick, usually, if he could. He was precise, and he was good at what he did.

The only problem between the two of you working is that you were often distracted watching him work. It was obnoxiously attractive to watch him reload his gun in the middle of a gun fight, his back against his wall and the calmest look on his face, sometimes annoyance, but never fear. It was one of the best things about him.

That was about the only thing that ever-caused problems working with him.

That and the fact that the two of you tended to get along a little too well if you’re left alone for too long.

In both of your defenses the two of you have been together for nearly two years now, so it was only natural that it happened.

But, your question, it was more directed at why the two of you for THIS specific job.

If anyone was suited for this kind of job it was Mary-Beth, Karen, maybe even Hosea himself, but Arthur? You?

Arthur wasn’t exactly known for his play acting, or for his subtly.

“Because, the two of you are the best we have, you’ll get the job done, and the two of you are the only ones without jobs set up right now.” Hosea chimes in and quietly he walks towards Arthur, adjusting a part of his costume. “You’ll know what to do.”

“Arthur’s not exactly...” You swallow, trying to think of a nice way to say what you needed to. “He’s not really the stealthy type.” You finish.

“That’s why you’re going with him.” Hosea huffs. “We were told that there’s a stash of money in the basement of the church, as long as you and him can get there and get it that’s all that matters, if he goes to step out of line then you can step in and steer the situation right.”

“Don’t I get a say in all this?”

“No Arthur, you don’t.”

“So why not just send me in by myself?” You furrow your brow and cross your own arms now.

“Because you can’t pass as ‘Father Morgan’.” Dutch snorts.

“Ugh....’Father Morgan’.” Arthur shakes his head and looks towards the road leading out of camp, his horse and yours stand next to each other, grazing at the grass nearby.

“Come on you two! It’ll be fun, go out for drinks afterwards! Our treat!” Dutch moves closer to the younger man and claps his shoulder with a hand, shaking Arthur slightly with a huge smile on his face. “It’s just one job, I promise, no more outfits for you for a while after this one Arthur.”

Arthur sighs and rolls his eyes, but swallows and nods before taking a step towards the horses.

“C’mon Darlin’ let’s get this done with.”

You roll your eyes as well but follow behind offering a bit of a timid wave to the two older outlaws, moving quickly to keep up with Arthur, who even in his new outfit seems to move much faster than you could.

“This is ridiculous,” Arthur looks over his shoulder at you as the two of you reach your horses. “Look at this, look at me, I look stupid.”

You chuckle and smack his shoulder with the back of your hand as you mount up.

“You aren’t the only one Arthur, I look stupid in this get up too.”

“Not as stupid as me, I’m surprised this damn thing hasn’t ripped yet,” He sighs and mounts his own horse, struggling slightly with the tightness around his arms. “They couldn’t find anything bigger than this?”

“Apparently not,” You nod towards the road leading out. “Let’s get going cowboy, the sooner we get this done the sooner we can get out of these things.”

“You’re right, I know.”

He offers another sigh, but then turns to lead the two of you out of camp, setting off at a decent pace.

............

You lean your head against the side of Arthur’s bicep as the two of you lean around a wall, staring at the Church placed in a rather unfortunate location for the two of you.

It’s situated in nearly the center of attention, it’s not in an area that’s exactly easy for the two of you to sneak into it, the only way to go about it was to walk in with confidence that your disguises would work. ‘Stealth’ in the traditional sense wasn’t an option for the two of you two.

“Alright, so...” Arthur adjusts himself, standing a little straighter. “I guess we just walk in?”

“I guess, try to seem Pious, straighten your back, look confident for once Arthur.”

“Hey, I’m confident-”

“Yeah when you’re drunk and when you’re robbing, just....Imagine you’re....”

You stop and huff, turning to face him as he stands against the wall of the building the two of you have hidden yourselves behind.

“Play Dutch.” You finish.

“Play Dutch?”

“You know, be....fuck Arthur just be obnoxious. Everything you do, pretend it was planned out, if you’re confident about it they won’t question a single thing.”

“You think Dutch is obnoxious?” Arthur makes a sound that borders between a snort and a full laugh as he looks at you.

“Of course I do, but that’s not important right now.” You look back towards the church. “Just...Like I said be confident.” You reach up and gently move a lock of his hair behind his ear, it’s not too long, not enough seem out of place, but he definitely should have gotten it trimmed.

“I know, it’s a mess.” He huffs and reaches up, covering your hand with his own. “Didn’t get the chance to stop and cut it with everythin’ goin’ on in camp. It’s gettin’ too long.”

“Just keep it out of your face, you did good with your stubble, looks clean.”

“Good, now, gimme a kiss before we do this.”

You can’t help but smile at him, and offer him a quick kiss, which he makes longer as one of his hands grips your waist tightly when your lips make contact with his.

He has a habit of deepening those kisses that you mean to be quick pecks, little messages of love that turn into something far more...promiscuous.

You finally manage to pry yourself away from him, suppressing a laugh.

“Arthur, come on, we’re gonna get caught, now go, I’ll follow.”

“Alright, alright-” He starts to move away from you, but you grab his robe sleeve quickly.

“Sorry, don’t forget this.”

You thrust a bible into his hand, and then give him a slight push.

“Confidence Arthur!”

“Alright, I got it, I got it, jus’ come on, you gotta come with me anyhow.”

You wipe your hands on the front of your robes, feeling the palms of your hands get sweaty.

You stand a little straighter and follow after him as the two of you walk towards the church, trying to control the sudden set of nerves that have overcome your body.

It’s late, the sun had set on the way into Saint Denis, in theory there shouldn’t be anyone in the church, or at least there shouldn’t be too many people in there.

It was the middle of the week, there wasn’t a Sunday Service.

Hopefully things would be easy for the two of you, as long as you could keep the charade up.

Nearing the church you could see two nuns talking to one another outside the front door, arms held in front of themselves, one hand over the other, and you quickly mimic the posture as the two of you continue.

Luckily as you pass the two of them they do nothing but nod and smile at the two of you, which each of you return.

As you pass through the doors you lean a little closer to Arthur, keeping your voice quiet.

“You’re doing great Arthur.”

“I ain’t done anythin’ yet, that’s why.”

You shake your head and swallow back the remark you want to say as you look down at the rosary in your hand.

“Just look around, where’s the stairs to the basement in this place?”

“Don’t know, I ain’t ever been in here, I avoid the city and most religious places like the plague,” he whispers. “I’m surprised I ain’t burned up in flames yet.”

You elbow him as subtly as you can.

“Shut up, if anything the both of us would be in flames by now if that myth was true.”

“Mhm...Awful crime, that premarital sex.”

“Arthur, I think it’s several other crimes that would cause us problems before that one.”

“I guess you’re right, probably all the murder and robbin’.”

“You think?”

He offers a quiet chuckle, one of your favorite sounds, low and breathy, short and sweet. It’s cut off quickly as he looks to the left, seeing a door off to the side of the main room, away from the pews and podium.

“You think that leads down?”

“Don’t know, we’ll have to take a look.” You sigh and look around the room, it seems completely empty, at least from what you can see. “Let’s be quick about it.”

“Right.”

He leads you off towards the door, and as you reach it he opens it up, only to reveal a small closet that’s nearly empty, despite a broom in the corner and a few extra bibles on the top shelf.

“Damn, not it... We should look-”

“Get in the closet!”

“What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

Your body is sparking with a sudden rush of anxiety, a sound from your right had sent it through you within a matter of seconds. Voices, is what it sounded like to you, quiet, but there.

“Just get in!” You shove him into the closet and follow after, closing the door in front of you.

The two of you are shrouded in darkness easily, and your body brushes against him, your back to his chest, and you listen as he grunts after hitting his head on the shelf.

“Jesus Y/N, the hell are you doin’?” He’s whispering, but there’s a familiar anger in his voice, well, perhaps its more annoyance.

“I’m sorry I panicked! I heard voices over by the pews...”

“Well we’re dressed like this for a reason-”

“We can’t get out of here now, they’ll wonder why we were crammed in here together.”

“What, you’re sayin’ Priests don’t get freaky now and then?”

“Arthur you know they don’t.”

“It was sarcasm darlin’.”

You take a shaky breath and Arthur’s arm snakes around your waist and he pulls you flush against his body.

“It’s alright Darlin’, we’re fine. What’s goin’ on with you tonight?”

“I don’t know...something about a church, I feel like getting caught here is worse than getting caught in a bank.” You mumble.

“What, all that higher power nonsense?”

“I don’t know, society does not take likely to thieves of the church.”

“Darlin’ society don’t take a likin’ to any thieves I’m afraid.”

You chuckle quietly and lean against him.

“You always know what to say, you know that?”

“Mhm...I try...Now...you think you can take a peek out there, see if they’re gone?”

You take a breath and do as he suggests, opening the door quietly and slowly, peeking your head out just barely.

You listen, hardly moving, hardly breathing, until you realize you no longer hear anyone speaking.

“I think we’re good.”

You step out of the closet and Arthur follows suit, and that’s when you see another door.

It’s straight across from the one that you just exited, and without another word to Arthur you head towards it, and pull it open, a feeling of relief flooding over you as you see stairs heading downwards.

“Good Girl...” Arthur’s voice is nearly a growl in your ear as he leans over your shoulder, he knows how that gets to you, he does, but in this instance you’re fairly certain he’s done it unintentionally.

He’s got a habit of making things attractive when he doesn’t mean to.

“Thanks Father.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Would you prefer Daddy?”

“Not unless you wanna cause more problems for yourself Darlin’.”

You chuckle and begin to head down the stairs, Arthur following you and closing the door quietly behind him.

The basement is dark, and almost damp feeling, you can’t see a damn thing and Arthur doesn’t have his trusty lantern with him.

“Well now what?”

Arthur’s breath comes out warm against your shoulder and an arm wraps around your waist.

“I don’t know, let me think.” He mutters. “I got my matches in my pocket.”

“Your robes have pockets?”

“Course, yours don’t?”

“No, it’s a fucking dress, so is yours I didn’t figure you’d have pockets.”

“Please don’t refer to it as a dress, you’re ruinin’ my masculine reputation.”

You roll your eyes but your hand finds its way to his thighs, patting along the robe in an attempt to find said matches

Of course he has matches on him, he can’t go more than an hour or two without a smoke.

“Mhmm...careful, you’re gonna hit somethin’ else while you’re down there.”

“Why the hell are you so horny right now, I’m not even wearing anything revealing-”

“Maybe I’ve been possessed, need some holy water...”

“Arthur please, can we find the money?”

“I’m sure we can, but I’m sure I’d be a lot more focused after...”

“Are you serious right now?”

“Yeah, serious as a heart attack Sugar. Somethin’ about this place...somethin’ about that....the...shit...the idea of somethin’ like that in a place like this, a church...” He lowers his voice. “In public.....it’s doin’ somethin’ to me.”

You know he means it, you can feel his hardness against your rear, you’ve been able to feel it since the closet, you just refused to say anything.

The basement seemed like the safest place, if you were going to do this.

Not only that but Arthur wasn’t the only one who had this sort of feeling.

The idea of being caught...It was exhilarating, and the idea of being dressed as a nun, yet committing such lewd acts...

You swallow, and grip the rosary in your fist fairly tightly.

“Possessed by the devil, not a demon.” You mutter.

“Maybe you should exorcise me....you are a nun after all.”

You turn, and your eyes are finally adjusting to the darkness, you can see the look on Arthur’s face, the haze of red beginning to cover his cheeks.

“Maybe we need to fuck it out of you.”

“Seems like it’s what he wants...” Arthur murmurs and his hands reach for your waist, and that’s when you catch him.

The rosary slips around his wrists easily, it’s a long beaded string with a cross on the end, longer than it needs to be, but long enough it works perfectly.

You know he can break out of this makeshift bondage easily, but he won’t, at least not on purpose.

He watches, his eyes hungry as you wrap the rosary around his wrists as many times as you can.

“That’s new.” He snorts.

“Maybe that demon will be more willing to leave with a cross on him...”

You have no idea what’s convinced you to slip fully into this sort of romanticized sort of scenario. You know he isn’t possessed, you don’t even believe in that kind of stuff, but....the idea that the only way to expel that ‘demon’ is to fuck it out of him...

It’s doing something to you.

Luckily Arthur can catch on easily, and he follows your lead.

“Well, what the hell are you waitin’ for, you gonna fuck this demon, or are you gonna leave me tied?”

Quietly, you step forwards, and unbutton the lower buttons of his robe, following after that his union suit which even in the dark you can see the outline of his dick pressed against his thigh.

His cock springs out the moment you get it unbuttoned, and without much of a thought you lick the tip of it, listening as Arthur sucks in through his teeth.

From there you move to the base of him, and lick along his shaft, moving towards the tip before taking him into your mouth fully, and that lovely voice of his comes tumbling out of his mouth in a groan.

He rests his tied hands against the back of your head, gently pushing his wrists against it in an attempt to partially guide you, gripping, or at least attempting to grip, at the hood of your robe.

“Fuck....I didn’t....shit I didn’t realize I was that...sensitive...right now.” He breathes out.

You hum against his skin as you bob your head, and again he lets a groan out.

You don’t do this long, and his dick comes out of your mouth with a satisfying pop.

“Nah, that....that ain’t fair-”

“I said we’re gonna fuck it out of you Arthur, me sucking you off isn’t exactly a fucking.”

He’s silent at your remark and watches in the dim light as you shuffle and manage to get your undergarments off.

He watches as you kick them to the side and then motion for him to near you.

He follows orders, the opposite of his usual dominating demeanor, but that’s going to change soon.

You simply turn around and face the wall nearest to you, placing your hands against it, and then arching your back out towards him.

“Oh....shit.”

Arthur swallows, and it’s only a moment before his mind seems to be taken over.

His hands are still tied, but thanks to your earlier endeavor his dick is exposed, and all you have to do is pull up your skirt.

His arms come over your neck, his hands still confined, now settled against your collar bone as he manages to get his cock lined up with your slick.

He pushes into you roughly, enough to make you cry out, and from there he’s unable to move slowly.

His hips snap against yours, deeply, roughly, needily.

“Jesus Christ...” He huffs.

“He ain’t doing...much to help...you right now.” You manage to get out as your cheek rests against the wall, your body moving in tandem with Arthur’s, back and forth, your breasts grazing the wall.

“No...he ain’t....fuck....you sure you ain’t the devil?”

You twitch your hips, moving against Arthur in an attempt to get a deeper angle.

“Maybe...” Your face is hot, your neck too.

You listen to the sounds he makes, each little grunt or groan pushing you forwards.

“This ain’t very....fuck....this ain’t very holy of you.”

“Sometimes....you need different....solutions..”

There’s a noise the sounds from upstairs, and suddenly Arthur’s hands are pressed against your mouth as he continues to rut into you.

“Shhh....quiet Sugar...you don’t want us to be caught do you?” He whispers.

His thrusts get harder, and you bite down on his hand, the area you can get to, you think it’s the side of his thumb, doing your best not to hurt him, but it’s the only thing you can do to stop the moan building in your throat.

You love it when he’s rough with you, and this position, these clothes, getting caught now would only make things hotter.

You know exactly how Arthur would react, and a part of you hopes that someone will, but you know it’s for the best if they don’t.

“Fuck....’demons’....jesus...fuck...” Arthur’s attempt at another suave sentence fails as his hips smack yours again and again.

You lick his hand, leaving hot breath against his skin, and listen to him do his best to suppress a sound that rises to his throat.

“You tryna get us caught? For a Nun...you’re kinda....a slut...” He huffs out.

“Yours Father Morgan...” The words are uttered against the side of his hand in a whisper, but he hears it and he swallows, trying again to keep his voice from raising.

“Please....Harder...”

“Christ Woman, maybe you are possessed.”

“Harder...” You plea again, pushing your hips back against his, roughly hoping he takes the hint, which you’re lucky and he does.

“You know....I...fuck...I could finish you...if I had my hands....”

You offer a grunt in response and watch as he pulls his wrists apart and the beads scatter around the room, pinging against the floor in every direction.

His hands fly to their places almost like it’s instinct.

One against your throat and the other to your clit.

He circles it, matching up his speed with the thrusts against your ass.

“You thought you could keep me like that, but sorry Darlin’...I just couldn’t do it any longer.”

His voice is breathy, and he leans forwards, kissing your neck, listening to the sounds that escape your mouth,.

He only stops when the sound of the basement door comes.

He’s quick to move, his cock still buried inside you as he pulls you around the side of a wall.

No one would see you there, not unless they walked around.

He places a palm against your mouth and he leans his back against the wall, only to thrust upwards into you, slowly, making sure his body and yours wouldn’t make a sound.

“Someone down here? The church is closed for the night I’m afraid!”

Arthur moves slowly, his hips still gently rocking against yours, it’s nearly torture, and you want to beg him to move faster, but to quell it you bite his palm, just as you’d done earlier.

“Hello? Anyone?”

His dick pulls out gently, and he has to do his best to keep a groan in his throat.

“Must be hearing things.”

The two of you listen as the person heads back up the stairs and the door closes.

You let out a deep breath and as soon as you do Arthur’s pace picks up.

He’s fast, thrusting into you with a speed that seems like he’ll die without feeling you clench against him.

His hand comes back to your neck and the other back to your clit.

He’s persistent, and after a moment you know why.

His hips begin to get erratic, the rhythm and speed are off, and his breathing against your neck gets hotter, they turn from deep breaths into panting.

“Sugar....you nearly there? Princess...I’m....soon.”

You can’t do anything but nod, leaning your head against his shoulder as he keeps you moving.

The hand around your throat moves to cup your breast, squeezing it through the cloth.

“Love the way these bounce...” He mutters. “Even clothed it’s a sight...”

“Arthur,” You close your eyes, your arm moving to come around his neck, the other slapped against the wall.

“Mhm....you’re almost there, I can hear it in your....fuck...in your voice.”

It’s a few more of these hard fast thrusts and then suddenly there’s a warmth that fills you and you yourself come apart as Arthur’s fingers continue to circle your clit.

Arthur groans in your ear and puts his forehead against your shoulder, breathing deeply, trying to catch his breath.

You’re silent for a moment.

“You broke my rosary.”

“Oh, like you were ever gonna use it after this.”

“Maybe on you, back, back I say, may the power of Christ compel you-”

“Oh, you need more than Christ to compel me Darlin’.”

You chuckle and the two of you manage to get untangled, not before Arthur whispers in your ear about the mess he’s made.

“Gonna have me all over you, hidin’ under that outfit of yours....you ain’t exactly the Virgin Mary are you...”

“Shut up Arthur, the ‘demon’ is supposed to be gone, let’s find that damn money and get out of here, I’ll let you do whatever you want with me when we get back to camp.”

“Good, not like you were gonna stop me anyhow.”

#rdr2 #rdr2 community #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 drabble #arthur morgan smut

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dailydemonspotlight · 2 months

Text

Chemtrail - Day 28

Race: Fiend

Alignment: Neutral

April 29th, 2024

Most demons throughout the SMT series are mythological beings, cryptids, historical figures, or just plain demons, but sometimes, they like to experiment. Sometimes, they make demons like the subject of today's Demon Spotlight, Chemtrail- a demon not based upon a historical account nor a religious belief, but rather, based on a conspiracy theory.

The idea of chemtrails originates in 1996, particularly from a report published by the US army regarding the idea of weather modification being used in warfare- as the conspiracy goes, the trails of condensation left behind by jets, known as contrails, are actually lines of chemical agents sprayed all over the public for nefarious purposes by the world elites. Many of these conspiracies blame these so-called chemtrails for things like diseases, mental illnesses, or many deaths around the globe, or even mind control by the elites to keep a populace subservient to their overlords.

Later in the 2000’s, the report was revealed to be a hoax, though many were left unconvinced by that turn, and chemtrails are still a widely held belief in conspiracy-laden circles of the United States. Many debunks have come out to explain what the trails in the sky truly are, that being trails of condensation left behind as water vapor in the jet's engine combines with the dry ambient temperature of the sky, though many remain unconvinced. The belief in chemtrails is surprisingly common, even to this day, though I suppose that is to be expected. You give someone in the bible belt a reason to hate the way the world is without blaming capitalism, and they'll snatch it up like a fish does bait.

Commentary aside, the conspiracy of chemtrails still retains relevance in pop culture, commonly cited as a ridiculous example of the conspiratorial beliefs of many people. However, while I personally doubt the existence of chemtrails, as do many others, the idea does have some credence to it- crimes like Agent Orange have given real weight and truth to the idea of world governments spraying chemicals down onto countries. However, given that this is a literal war crime, I'd hope that the US doesn't do that to their own citizens? But I wouldn't put it above them. Sorry to get a bit political, but it's somewhat unavoidable with this topic.

Segwaying back to SMT, though, I'm more surprised by the fact of the matter that this demon exists. It really just goes to show that, throughout the series, anything can be a demon- whether it be folklore, history, mythology, or anything in between, Chemtrail really feels like an example of both the experimentation that took place during IV, as well as being a testament to how widespread the moniker of demon truly is throughout the series. Anything can be a demon, as long as people believe in it, and that's oddly touching.

I don't know why it's a fiend, though. The idea of chemtrails being a skeleton brings up more questions than answers.

#shin megami tensei #smt #megaten #persona #daily #chemtrails #again #sorry to get political!#it's just.#very hard to avoid with this topic lmao #i tried to be as neutral as possible but i'm a lefty at heart so my bias probably shone through #tho given that this is tumblr #i doubt that'll bother much of anyone lmao

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sophieinwonderland · 2 months

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why are people now straight up citing scripture to debunk an effing meme 😭 oh my goddd "god is plural" doesnt mean "god is one-to-one analagous to a human person who identifies as an endogenic system" its already a leap to ASSUME that and now i have to see christians saying "um actually, you cant compare the trinity to this other, human state of many-but-oneness because..." as if their problem isnt solely with the word PLURAL. Like is it heretical to compare the trinity to an egg too now?? Im willing to bet youre JUST mad bc its the word plural. Whats with this particular fixation lmfao who cares

Like is it heretical to compare the trinity to an egg too now??

I mean, depending on who you ask...

I think this extreme is kind of silly because that's a pretty common metaphor used to explain God even if it's not exact. Analogies like this are commonly used by Christians to compare the Trinity to physical things, even if those analogies aren't completely accurate because they can help make things easier to understand. It's similar to how lower grade of school will oversimplify things to children

Unlike the egg though, I actually feel that the plurality comparison avoids partialism given that, even for systems who do identify as parts, there aren't necessarily clear divides. There is blending and overlap, and each headmate is their own person despite still being the same organism, similar to how God is considered to be three persons in one being.

And yeah, I agree. This is totally just them taking issue with the word plural.

I don't really agree that this is a meme, personally.

I legitimately think it's a valid interpretation of the biblical canon and one that I would encourage for Christian plurals to adopt.

now i have to see christians saying "um actually, you cant compare the trinity to this other, human state of many-but-oneness because..." as if their problem isnt solely with the word PLURAL.

Do you want to know what I find especially silly about these people, personally?

Any Christian will be the first to tell you that God's creation is how he imparts understanding of his nature. And this is backed by the Bible itself.

"For his invisible attributes, that is, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly seen since the creation of the world, being understood through what he has made. As a result, people are without excuse." - Romans 1:20

So it's kind of ridiculous to claim that the nature of the Trinity would be something that has to be incomprehensible and impossible to understand by looking at nature. Especially the nature of humans who are made in God's image.

(I will say that I kind of enjoy these arguments. Normal syscourse can get so boring and repetitive sometimes. Arguing over the plurality of God has been a breath of fresh air! 😁😊)

#syscourse #plural #religion #plurality #pro endogenic #pro endo #endo safe #multiplicity #endogenic #systems #system #sysblr #actually plural #actually a system

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ladypeonies · 11 months

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Acceptance.

It seems we are now in the last stage of grief for the friends of the former BOC’s actor, acceptance. Therefore Bible, Mile, Apo, Pond, etc. unfollowed him on Instagram. His chats with his ex-girlfriend were leaked, she is the one who did it, indirectly or directly. The chats are bad, very, very bad.

First, this is a violation of his privacy and it is wrong but she is also ceding her privacy and exposing herself as well. She clearly decided to burn the house down with both of them in it. Why did she do it? They had a settlement, both accepting wrongdoings. In my opinion, she saw how much his former colleagues were still supporting him at various degrees, of course, and basically said, really? You shouldn’t, here is why. He said during the settlement that he was afraid of her, to break up with her. But those chats show a man who was the one in control of that relationship. And unlike him, she has NOTHING to lose. KP gave her money, is still doing so, and would for the near future. They were clearly in a toxic relationship. But reading the chats, the settlement and seeing the videos of them together, she went above and beyond for him, she gave him everything he asked for. She did things for him that she regrets now. She made professional decisions to benefit HIM. Let’s be perfectly transparent, she sabotaged Mile and Apo for him. We all witnessed the mess last year. She knew what she was doing though to keep him she was willing to ruin other and accept the unacceptable, I don’t pity her.

Yes, we all say stupid things that sometimes we don’t even believe in. We rant about a colleague, etc. But this is worse, these are not about an actor ranting about a bad day or frustrated about a colleague not doing his job properly. Those chats show an insecure, jealous, petty, greedy and mean-spirited man talking badly about people he professes to appreciate and even love. The worst part is that many of the racists and homophobic remarks he made in the chats were AFTER his first scandal with the homophobic, racists, misogynistic remarks when he was 20. He hadn’t learned his lessons. He blamed his friends but never took responsibility. He wasn’t even cautious. He’s in the entertainment industry and he KNOWS they all know that hacking, leaking can occur. He had just experienced it. If one has bad things to say, they usually call.

Some of those chats were exposed since June and he didn’t say anything. When the one where he talks badly about Pond were leaked then he immediately apologised. He said the CEO of his company is gay and mocked and ridiculed him for that. Meanwhile on social media he was being grateful and saying he loved him. Who the hell is going to trust him in that industry? What the heck was he thinking? Pond helped, supported him every step of the way. How the heck do I know that? Because he allowed his staff to help with his comeback concert.

He was jealous of Apo, which was obvious and my goodness he’s mean to him. But being ugly when you’re jealous is pathetic but it’s human, I get that. It sucks for Apo because he has been so nice and friendly to him, but Apo will get over it. He badmouthed most of his former colleagues. But the one I feel the most for is Bible who gave him a ring and told him he cared for him and the former BOC actor ridiculed him for it, and in a post suggested that by sharing a hotel room with him Bible could rape him.

I feel for his former colleagues who thought they knew him, they didn’t. And it must hurt. Above all when everything is exposed so publicly.

What I find disturbing is that I’m sure people, his lawyer, anyone around him asked him if there was anything he had said to her that she could use against him. And he lied, otherwise they would have known what was coming and be prepared.

His followers are claiming that people all do that when talking to their best friend, etc. They’re calling him brave for apologising and acknowledging his mistakes. Apologising about one’s wrongdoings is human decency not bravery. Being brave is waking up every single morning and CHOOSING to be a good person despite other people’s trickery and bad behaviour. It’s choosing EMPATHY when dealing with others.

Yes, Poi was wrong and shouldn’t have posted them. But he gave her ammunition to hurt him, those words were his.

Is it the end of it? I don’t really think so, this is a cursed-gift which keeps on giving everyone nightmares. Is Poi done being vengeful? She knows what she is posting and how. She could have buried him deeper, but she didn’t. Does she intend to?

It would be easy to just call her crazy, insane, etc. She wants something from him. And if he wants to put all that behind him, he should give in. What other choice does he have? There is no fair fight with someone who has nothing to lose. Moreover, he has alienated the few people who could have perhaps been good mediators between the two.

BOC and their actors aren’t out of the woods yet. If Poi goes nuclear, she could reveal things which paint them in a bad light.

But it has nothing to do with MileApo and Boc anymore, he's not in the company anymore, he resigned.

*rolling my eyes* Every time these two will fight or should I say she would leak something, BOC name, their actors will pop up. They're linked to them for the time being. And with Mansuang coming and them playing in the big league now, they don't need this mess.

#mileapo #apo nattawin #mile phakphum #BOC

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