#we go to the same church for worship and like what are we gonna do??? stop going??? fuck no
Title: God’s Gonna Cut You Down
Pairing: Demon!Lee Bodecker x Reader
Summary: Sometimes the best thing you can do to your family tree is burn it down.
Warnings: noncon, mentions of character death, horror themes, descriptions of violence (though no actual violence occurs), Unprotected sex, manipulation, demon worship, religious cults, Demon!Lee Bodecker, graveyard sex, unprotected sex, Dead dove: do not eat, MINORS DNI!!
A/N: almost 9k words later, here’s that demon!Lee fic i’ve been talking about 😅. heavily inspired by Johnny Cash’s God’s Gonna Cut You Down, which if you haven’t listened to, you absolutely should. it kind of got away from me lengthwise, but i really hope you all enjoy. as always, comments and reblogs are always appreciated! divider by @whimsicalrogers!
This is a work of FICTION, and it is Dark, so I assume once you’ve clicked through the link that you are comfortable with that. I do not give consent for my work to be copied, translated, or posted elsewhere, even if I am credited. This work is entirely mine, and unbeta’d, so read at your own risk!
Tell the rambler, the gambler, the backbiter—tell ‘em God’s gonna cut ‘em down.
It’s the prayers you remember the most. You don’t have many memories of Meade, and even less of Knockemstiff, but you do remember church. You remember the fervent shrieks of prayer, hands laid on shaking bodies. You remember the sweat glistening on the preacher’s brow, the flecks of spittle flying from his lips as his bright, beady eyes searched the crowd for sin, so that he might cast it from their ranks.
After you went to live with Aunt Josephine, you didn’t much go to church, which you found, you didn’t really mind.
You’re reminded of the wailing sobs and the nonsensical tongues as the same man, though older now, less able to lead a chorus of stomping feet and sweat soaked pleas for salvation; stands at the pulpit.
You don’t listen, statically tuning him out as you watch men mechanically shovel dirt into the grave where your mother’s body lies. It’s less grief that drives you, and more curiosity—you didn’t know this woman, not really. You knew her in pictures, in stories, but you didn’t know her.
“Hillary-Anne was a pillar of our faith, our community.” The pastor says, wiping sweat from his tomato-red forehead. “She will be missed.” You wonder how many lives your mother touched that weren’t your own, wonder what might have been had you not been taken for “your own good” by children’s services. The preacher’s voice is a dull drone in your ear, and you’re glad you can’t discern his promises of deliverance from his pleas for faith.
You wait until everyone else has gone before you go up to the hole. It’s already full of red and white roses, their petals littering the dark wood. This is the closest you’ve been to your mother since you were three.
“Hi.” You’re not even sure why you’re here—it’s not as though she can give you closure, not like this. “It was a really nice service.” You say, twisting your fingers in the sleeve of your blouse. “Aunt Josephine wanted to come, but she… she couldn’t get the time off, and…” You exhale sharply.
“I know you can’t… hear me, or anything. It’s just… we never got to talk when you were…here. So… I brought you some things.” You fish the high-school graduation photo out of your purse, along with the tassel from your cap from college. “I’m sorry we… never knew each other.” You finish lamely, and drop your items into the grave. “It’s not flowers, but… Aunt Josephine said you never really cared for flowers anyway.”
Next, you pick up your handful of grave dirt, and toss that in too. You stare hollowly at the grave for another minute before turning to leave—and stopping abruptly in your tracks.
“That was real nice, what you did for you mama.” A cigarette hangs from his lips, and the old-fashioned hat sits perched above his brow. “Nice lady.” You can’t see his eyes through the dark sunglasses, and the late afternoon sun reflects off of his badge, making it too impossible to make out. You’re uncomfortable, his presence sudden and grating. He snaps his gum.
“Thank you.” You reply, fingers tangling in the loose sleeve of your black blouse for an entirely new reason now. “You knew her?” You ask stiltedly when the officer doesn’t move or speak again. You’re both eager for this exchange to be over and to be back in your car, but also to ease the tension and awkwardness of his sudden appearance.
“Knew her? Hell, we’re in the same congregation.” He tugs the sunglasses down his nose and tucks them into the pocket of his leather jacket. “Lee Bodecker. Most folks around here call me sheriff, but you can call me Lee.” His eyes are an intense, stormy gray, and you find yourself staring down at his full lips instead to avoid his gaze. “She talked about you.”
The mention of the congregation dredges another memory from your subconscious, the screaming preacher, his heated words—You tell that long tongue liar, tell that midnight rider, tell him God’s gonna cut him down! You can feel the wood flooring under your knees as your mother forced you down to pray, the uneven wood digging into your flesh—
You pinch yourself discreetly through your blouse. “O-oh?” You say, licking dry lips. “We… we didn’t meet, you know, after.”
“What mother wouldn’t talk about her baby girl?” He asks, a small smile flitting across his features. “Said she just knew you were gonna make something real important of yourself.”
Your chest goes tight. She said that? “I hope journalist fits the bill.” You dust your hands against the fitted slacks. “I, um. Think I’m going to head back to the hotel, it’s kind of a long drive.”
“Whereabouts you stayin’?” He asks, shoving his large hands into his pockets.
“I’m, um, I’m up in Cincinnati. I couldn’t… find anywhere to stay closer than that.” You don’t know why you’re telling him this, but you’ve always had a nervous mouth. “About two hours.”
“Shucks, that’s a shame. We’re doin’ a little somethin’ up at the church for her, didn’t know if anybody’d told you that.” He looks up at the sky, and then back down at you.
“N-no, no one told me.” All you’d gotten in the mail was a notice from the local coroner’s office that she’d died, and the date of the funeral. You didn’t know anyone at the service, and you doubted that would change at the church, wherever it was. But more than that was the desire to know her. To know… anything about her.
“I could show you. Ain’t far, maybe fifteen minutes. Lotsa folks’ll have food, nice things to say. If yer interested.”
“Oh, sure.” You nod. “I’d like that, I think.” You could talk to people, ask questions, maybe hear more about your mother than tales of childhood rambunctiousness right up until a strange piety had seemed to settle over her, separating her sharply from the rest of the family.
“That’s real nice. Pastor’ll be mighty pleased with that.” You walk awkwardly beside him back to your car, but when you click it open with your key, the sheriff scoffs. “That ain’t gonna make it up them dirt roads on these skinny lil’ things.” He taps the thin tire of the rental car with his shoe.
It had had trouble making it up to the burial site, where there were a distinct lack of paved roads. You weren’t exactly comfortable sitting in the squad car so close to the sheriff, but you didn’t much fancy getting stuck on top of a mountain with no one to bail you out, either. You can feel his gaze, heavy on your face as you chew your lip, weighing your options.
“I could drive you, wouldn’t bother me none.” He offers, smiling charmingly at you. Something feels off about it, but you’re not sure what. Perhaps it’s that you’re just not used to country folk, the anonymity and faceless existence of city life was what you’d become accustomed to. His over-friendliness is further compounded by the fact that you’re alone, there’s no one else to direct the conversation to.
That has to be it.
“I guess you’re right,” you say after a moment. “Thank you, sheriff.”
“Lee, please. And don’t thank me, honey,” He licks his lips. “Just doin’ the Christian thing.”
The little church he takes you to is somewhere in a labyrinth of back roads. The little white building sits amidst a lush green field, and as you take in the view, you think perhaps you can see why your mother would come here—it’s beautiful.
“Pretty as a picture, ain’t it?” Lee says, his presence suddenly too close behind you. He steps up beside you, gravel crunching under his feet. He’s handsome, older than you, and perhaps carrying a few more pounds than he’d probably like, but handsome. “Shall we?” He drawls, and the lift of his lips lets you know he’s noticed your observation.
“Y-yes, of course.”
You can already see the sun beginning to dip behind the little church, and as you get closer, the scent of food makes your mouth water. You hadn’t eaten since last night—too wound up about the funeral to swallow anything but water earlier that morning. As you get close, the doors swing open, and a woman in a yellow sundress steps out, smiling.
“Sheriff we—oh.” She stops, a hand on her round hip. She looks you up and down, squinting, before her eyes widen. “Well as I live and breathe, I did not expect to be seein’ Hillary-Anne’s daughter this Sunday afternoon.”
“Didi, let the poor girl by. She’s half starved,” the sheriff admonishes her, chuckling. His hand is too warm on your back and you jump at the contact as he ushers you forward. Didi steps out of the way, still smiling. It doesn’t feel like kindness, though. Not when her eyes move between you and the sheriff with an intensity you can’t name, her hand circling her stomach almost worriedly as she grins wide and stares directly into your eyes.
“Of course, of course. Well, sweetheart, we got everythin’ with all the fixin’s. Sister Marietta over there, she made some green bean casserole, and Pammy, that’s the pastor’s wife, she made…” Her voice fades into the background as the heat from the sheriff’s palm goes all the way up your back. You can feel him guiding you towards the table, and you’re acutely aware of how close he still is. There’s a dull ringing in your ears like all the air has been sucked out of the room—but you know that can’t be true.
Because you can hear his breath.
Just his breath.
Tell him God’s gonna cut him down. The pastor’s plea rings in your ears again, and the hot, sweaty press of summer roars to life in your memories, pressing against your skin as real sweat breaks across your forehead.
And then suddenly, everything rushes back in, the sounds of conversation, footsteps on the wooden floorboards. A harsh exhale escapes your chest and you pull away from him. Didi’s still talking a mile a minute, but though her voice is grating, it’s a welcome distraction from the twisting in your gut. She places a hand on the worn surface of the table, laden with dishes of food.
“Well I’m sure, um, I’m sure everyone’ll want to meet you,” she says slowly, and her eyes lock with the sherrif’s over your shoulder. When you peek back at him, his expression is calm, and he gestures at the table. “It was just lovely to meet you.”
“Well go on and get you somethin’ ta eat.” He instructs. “I’m gonna let the pastor know we’ve got a special guest.” He winks at you, and you feel your face heat.
“You don’t have to do all that, sher—Lee.” In fact, please don’t.
“S’my pleasure.” He waves you off. “And don’t you worry none, folks here are real nice, you’ll see, honey.” He says it sweetly, his voice low and soft. You feel the searing heat of his palm on your shoulder and then he’s gone, and you can finally breathe right again. It’s like the sheriff’s presence is a black hole, that’s the closest thing you can figure. Drawing in pieces of you until you’re consumed entirely.
You start piling food onto your own plate, hunger creeping up on you with a vengeance. It’s all the things Aunt Josephine liked to say would kill you slowly, but then again, Jo was a health nut who thought Yoga was a way of life. Black eyed peas, cornbread, ham—and the green bean casserole Didi had mentioned.
“Glad to see you eating.” The unfamiliar voice makes you tense, your back going ramrod straight as you turned around. “You must be Hillary-Anne’s daughter, I can see right on your face.” The woman smiles at you, and it feels like the first genuine one you’ve gotten all day. She reaches out a hand.
“Nice to meet you.” You balance your food as you reach for her hand. “Did you know my, um, Hillary?” You can’t call her mom in front of someone else—it feels too… familiar. She was your mother, but you didn’t know her at all.
“Oh yes. I expect most everyone in town knew her.” Emma’s kindly expression goes a little strained. “Poor thing. Troubled.”
“I… what do you mean?” That hadn’t been what Lee had told you. He’d called her… a pillar of the community.
“Well, I mean—I’m not a gossip, now,” She prefaces, and you nod. “But… She, well, Hillary’d have these fits. She’d say all sorts of things… strange things.”
“Like what?” You asked, glancing around to make sure you were still clear of the sheriff. You didn’t know why, but… you got the feeling this wasn’t something anybody else needed to hear.
“Well she… she got it in her head that things were out to get her. Monsters, demons. But she was a good woman.” Emma finished resolutely. “And once Pastor Williams there took over, the church really seemed to be doin’ her good. S’a shame, a real shame.” She shook her head.
“I… I didn’t know that.” Fits?
You don’t have time to ask for more information—the back of your neck goes cold, and you know the sheriff is behind you without having to look.
“See you got yourself somethin’ to eat, honey.” He rumbles approvingly. You force a smile.
“Yes, thank you.” You brandish your plate. “I um, I just need somewhere to sit.”
“Don’t worry about that, right this way.” He leads you towards the front pew. “Best seat in the house.” You’re hungry, but you struggle to eat with his eyes on you. “How d’you like everythin’?”
“It’s good,” you reply honestly, licking your lips. His eyes follow the motion closely, and your stomach clenches. “Thank you.”
“You’re a polite lil’ thing,” he chuckles. “Or just nervous?”
Your fork stops halfway to your mouth, and you lick dry lips. You’re not sure what to answer, how to answer without exposing some hidden vulnerability. You don’t want him to know how much he gets to you, how much his presence seems to have you off kilter, but you can’t shake the feeling that he’ll know if you lie.
“I guess a little of both.” The bite you take is like glue on your tongue suddenly. You swallow it with a grimace. “It’s not everyday you get a personal escort out of the sheriff.”
He laughs, a booming sound. “And funny too.” You don’t answer, finishing the food on your plate with much less enjoyment than before, and then tossing your paper plate into the garbage can by the door. By now, the pastor was making for the pulpit, straightening his crooked tie and smoothing a hand over his red, sweaty forehead.
“Brothers and sisters,” he begins, over-enunciating every syllable. “It is a terrible misfortune that brings us together today.” He leans over the pulpit. “It is the ache of loss we feel today. The sorrow of death.” His thick, whiskery mustache twitches above his lip like a living animal as he speaks.
“But as we know, brothers and sisters, death is not the end, oh no.” There’s a murmur of agreement that rises up in the crowd around you. “Death is just a tiny, tiny piece of the great weave that makes up this life, ain’t that right?”
Cries of yes preacher! echo around you, and you fidget in your seat.
“There is life beyond death, my friends. After it. And our God is a righteous one, and he will see that we have it, if only we are faithful! Can I get an amen!” Raucous prayer shakes the rafters as people stomp their feet and clap and yell. Your face feels hot, and as the preacher smashes his fist against the pulpit you flinch like you’ve been hit.
It’s like you’re in two places—two bodies—all at once. You’re you, the you sitting next to the sheriff as the preacher goes red-faced—but you’re smaller too, you’re a toddler again, listening to the sermons of snakes and demons, of midnight riders and that long-tongued-liar—
Something cool and wet trickles from your nose as the preacher’s voice reverberates in your skull. You’re seeing through too many eyes at once—the preacher in front of you, your mother washing dishes in an unfamiliar kitchen, kneeling in the pews over scattered grits until your tiny knees bleed, snakes writhing in the roots of a great, black tree—
“We have not lost sister Hillary! She is not gone! She waits for us, and our God will usher us there too if we believe! If we are righteous! If we cast out the False One from our hearts, from our minds! Glory, Hallelujah!” The lights overhead seem to pulse with your own heartbeat, and you can hear the electricity so loudly in your own ears. Dizzily, you lift a finger to your nostril, and it comes away wet and red.
“Cast him out!” The preacher shouts, and his enraptured audience repeats it back with equal fervor. “Cast out the false prophet, the liar! Cut him down!”
“Cut him down!” They cry—all but two.
All but you—and the sheriff. His face is placid as he watches your mouth move, even as your throat refuses to release the sounds. You’re choking, drowning on air as your body twitches. More warm wetness soaks down your face, your mouth and chin as you slump over in your seat.
“Cast him out! Cast him out!” The words repeat as if on refrain in your ears as Lee leans over you, hot coals burning in the hollow pits of his eyes.
And then nothing.
When you sit up, it’s in an unfamiliar room, with the quiet sounds of night leaking through the window. The open drapes stir with the breeze, and it carries the steady chirp of crickets, and the rustle of grass on it’s back. A cool, wet cloth falls from your forehead, and when you look down at yourself, you can see the dark stain of blood from your nosebleed all around the collar of your shirt.
You stagger to your feet and make your way over to the door on unsteady legs. The hallway that greets you is dark too, but you spy light by the staircase. You totter down it—straight into the kitchen.
“Oh thank goodness.” Emma looks up at you from the table. “You gave us all a good scare at the church.” She rises from her seat to grasp your hands. “Come, sit, you shouldn’t be walking around.” She cuts her eyes at the man sitting across from her. “Earskill! Get her some water,” she instructs, and he sighs.
“What happened?” You croak, and Emma’s relieved smile sours.
“You passed out, honey. Clean out in front of the pulpit.” It seemed sort of obvious—the time you’d lost, the bed you woke up in. “Doctor Silva said you shouldn’t be drivin’ all the way back to Cincinnati tonight.”
“Oh but my car—” Emma waves you off. “Don’t you worry none about that. Sheriff took care of it, had it taken down to the station.” Your stomach rolls at the mention of the sheriff, and you fight down a wave of nausea. It had to be a fever dream, a product of the heat and your own mind, because there was no way you’d seen what you thought you did.
Black wings glistening like an oil slick, a crown of black flames so bright it hurt to look at—
“Oh.” You say shakily, sighing. “I guess… that’s fine.”
“I hope you don’t mind, I just, we had the extra room and all.” Emma replies, wringing her hands nervously. “Sheriff thought we should take you down the station, but I said you’d be more comfortable here.” She’s kind. You observe, before reaching forward to pat them comfortingly.
“Thank you.” I’d rather here than with Lee. You drink your water, and then Emma sternly sends you back up to bed, where you toss and turn the rest of the night. Your clothes are uncomfortable, but you’re not about to strip down to your underwear in this unfamiliar place; and you can’t escape the niggling feeling that someone is watching you. That eyes, unseen, are observing you through the window.
So when morning finally comes, you feel no better rested, and groggily respond to Emma’s enthusiastic knock. “Here.” She presses a dress into your hands. “Bathroom’s that way.”
You feel a little better after a shower, having scrubbed your skin raw. The dress is old fashioned, faded floral print with a starched white collar. You button it up awkwardly. It’s long, longer than you’re used to at mid-calf, but you’re glad for the length knowing that you don’t have any clean panties to put on.
Earskill greets you downstairs. “Are you heading into town?” You ask, and he nods. “Would you mind if I rode with you? To get my car.”
The rolling countryside quickly gives way to the small town, dirt roads becoming paved the closer in you get. You hadn’t seen the town yesterday, though from the looks of it you weren’t missing much. Typical, small town Americana.
“Here you go,” Earskill slows to a stop in front of the old police station, and sure enough, the rental car you’d paid for is out front. You breathe a sigh of relief.
“Thank you.” You steel yourself before entering, your palms moist. There’s a young man at the intake desk, and he smiles at you as you approach.
“Can I help you?”
“Um, yes. I just need to pick up my car. It’s out front.” You look down embarrassedly at your hands. He nods.
“Of course. l’ll have you wait in the sheriff’s office, he should be back soon.” Your stomach drops.
“I… is there any way I could just get my keys and go?” You ask, and his friendly smile turns apologetic.
“I’m sorry, sheriff’s got your keys, you see.” Your heart drops. “But ain’t nobody more responsible than him, you can trust he’ll get ‘em back safe and sound.” The young man says resolutely, and you force a pained smile.
You follow him to the large back office, and you sit in front of the intimidating desk.
“He’ll be in in a little while.” You know he’s trying to reassure you, but all you feel is panic. The walls seem to shrink in on you as you play with the fabric of your borrowed dress—you’d insisted on at least offering Emma a little cash for the garment, considering you wouldn’t be back this way, but she’d refused you adamantly. Minutes ticked by like hours as you waited for the sheriff to return, and when he finally did, it didn’t ease the tension.
He strode into the room without addressing you, hanging his coat on a hook by door as he sighed and closed it behind him. You watched him sit behind the desk, and rummage through one of the drawers until he produces a wrapped piece of hard candy.
“S-sherrif.” He frowns at your formality.
“Thought I told you to call me Lee.” He leans forward. “Go on, sweetheart.”
He smiles. “Good girl.” He pops the candy into his mouth. “What can I do for you, honey?”
“I need my keys, please. Lee.” You add his name at the end, and he grins wolfishly at you.
“Oh sure, honey.” He slowly pulls open a drawer without breaking eye contact, and removes the keys from inside it. He slides the key ring down his index finger, swinging them around in lazy circles. “Y’know, I was thinkin’,” he drawls, and you clench your fists on your thighs. “It’d be a real shame to leave without sayin’ goodbye t’your mama.”
“I don’t understand, Lee.” You answer exasperatedly. It feels like a game with him, every interaction, like he’s looking for something.
“Let’s go get her some nice flowers, put ‘em out for her. That sound nice?”
“I really should be getting back—”
“Honor thy mother, sugar.” He cuts you off, his voice hard. You want to leave—but you can’t do that without a car. Cincinnati is two full hours away by car, and you don’t even want to think about how long it’d take to walk it.
“Knew you’d see it my way, sweet pea.” He grins, and you swallow your distaste at the nickname. He pockets your keys, patting them through the fabric before standing up. “Let’s go.”
Lee stops at the grocery store for a bouquet, and he insists on paying for it as well, leaving you feeling awkward and frustrated at his perceived good will. It was an empty gesture, meant to impress others, though it wasn’t doing the trick with you.
“Such a good man,” the florist whispers conspiratorially to you. “So generous.” You’d wonder how he’s managed to get the entire town eating out of the palm of his hand, but you know power is enough of it’s own influence in that regard. You spend the car ride sullenly staring out of the window, avoiding Lee’s steely gaze.
“You like the flowers?” He asks as the car rumbles up the little dirt path to the graveyard.
“Yes, thank you she—Lee. They’re lovely.”
You’re out of the car as soon as it stops, and you can feel Lee behind you every step of the way. The air feels thick and wrong, the sky dark like it’s about to break open at any moment.
Cast him out.
You shudder as you approach the grave, the earth around it still loose and fresh. You take a tentative few steps forward and lean them against her tombstone.
“Hope you like them.” You say quietly.
“Sure she will.” Lee answers, and you clench your firsts, rounding on him. You’re tired of this place, of this stranger following you around. Intimidating you.
“Can I have my keys now, please?” You grit, holding your hand out, palm up and expectant. “Please.” You repeat, and the wide grin that spreads across his face only sends chills down your spine.
“I could. But I think your momma would rest a lot easier knowin’ that you was taken care of.”
“I’m taken care of.” You say tightly. “Sheriff.”
“Are you?” He cocks his head. “Way I see it, you belong here. Dontcha think?” He hooks his thumbs in his belt, rocking a little on his toes as he looks at you darkly.
“No.” You can’t shake the wrongness of this, the dark sky overhead and the sheriff’s own black gaze. “Give my my keys.” You’ll walk back to town in a downpour if you have to—anything is better than riding another twenty minutes back with Lee sitting too close to you in the car, his hand swelteringly hot on your knee.
“Aw, sweetheart. What’s the matter? Don’t like it here?” He asks tauntingly, patting the pocket you know he’s stashed them in. “Afraid of your roots?”
“I’m afraid of you.” The words escape your lips unbidden as the first fat drops of rain begin sinking down into your hair. You blink the water away, and for a moment you see it again—those night black wings, the crown of dark fire, his eyes as red as embers from satan’s own hearth—
“What are you?” the rain is falling harder now, and Lee laughs at you, the sound like rocks grating together, like earth crumbling.
“Ain’t you learned yet, sweetheart?” He asks, and when he opens his mouth, dark tendrils of smoke snake out around his lips. “Here, I’m God.”
The sky is lit with lightning that crackles and arches brightly across the sky like a skeletal hand, and for a moment you see the truth of Lee in his shadow, the shape of his wings, the spiral curve of his horns painted on the wet grass.
You’re running by the time the second thundering CRACK of lightning sounds, your feet slipping in the mud as you flee. Lee’s laughter is everywhere, in your ears, in your head, filling the air around you as much as the rain.
Never should have come.
You know that now, as your hands tangle in the long skirts of your dress, trying to gain as much footing as you can while you look blindly around you—but Lee is gone. You can still feel him, still hear his dark voice like a hound nipping at your heels—but you can’t see him. What’s more, you don’t know where you are—this part of the graveyard is unfamiliar and maze-like, the rows of gravestones seemingly unending.
“Are you afraid, lil’ lamb?” The sheriff’s deep baritone sounds right by your left ear. “You know that makes it taste all the sweeter.”
A shuddering sob wracks your form and you take off again, running. Your dress is soaked through from the rain and sticking to your clammy skin, and your feet sink into the muddy slurry on the ground. The wind whips at your hair, at your face, and you’re half blind with terror and rain—
And then you see it.
A lonely mausoleum, for who, you don’t know—but the doors are solid, and the little windows are barred. With only safety on your mind, safety and shelter from the thing that wears the face of the sheriff like a mask, you scramble for it. Your fingers scrabble against the door, and it groans loudly as you tug it open. Stale air and darkness greet you, and leaves rustle around your feet as you throw yourself through the doorway.
You scrape your hands on the uneven stone as you stumble forward, and you pick yourself up and throw your weight against the door to close it. The stone grinds loudly, but you manage, shutting it tightly. You pant against the door, tears gathering in your eyes. You don’t know where your purse is, where your phone is—you’re all alone here.
The tomb in the center is covered in dust and spiderwebs, but you lean heavily against it anyway, sobbing. No tears come, your eyes are painfully dry, and you dry heave into the dust.
Here, I am God.
This went beyond corrupt cops in a small town—this was something else entirely. There was corruption here, but it was the kind that ate at the soul until there was nothing left.
A low whistle makes your head snap up in terrified awareness. “Honey. Where’d you go?” The sheriff—and not the sheriff at all—called to you in a sing-song voice. It was so dark outside you could almost mistake it for night, and you could still hear the wind and the rain battering the walls of the mausoleum. You clap a hand over your mouth to stifle the whimper that threatens to escape. He doesn’t know I’m in here. You think frantically, tears leaking silently down your cheeks.
You can hear the slow, leisurely drag of his footsteps. “C’mon out, darlin’. Don’t make me have to find ya.” You duck down as a shadow appears across the small, square window. “I ain’t patient, sweetness,” he growls, and you can hear the creak of his leather jacket as he leans against the wall.
“Coulda’ had you yesterday if not for Emma’s meddlin’.” He spits, and your chest seizes. Your breath hitches, the sound both quiet and deafening, and you hear his low chuckle.
“So that’s where you are.”
You scream as the doors are wrenched open, the stone bending and cracking like cheap paper. Sheriff Lee Bodecker stands there in the doorway, a dark, satisfied smile on his face.
Behind him, dark wings dripping with inky ichor flicker in and out of existence like light through a prism as you turn it. You couldn’t focus on them, like your eyes just didn’t know how to see them, nor the pointed crown wreathed in black fire. His eyes are black like the void, and a forked tongue licks slowly over his lips.
You scramble back, putting the raised stone tomb between you. The only escape is past him, and you’re not foolish enough to think you can slip by unscathed. Lee takes a step inside, and the stone creaks and moans as though under great pressure. Dust rains down on you from above, and you press yourself against the wall. You can feel the ungodly heat of him from here, pressing against your skin like a physical caress.
“What do you want?” You whimper, and his eyes travel down the soaked, dirty ruin of your dress.
“I want every piece of you.” He snarls, raking clawed fingers against the stone. They slice into it like a hot knife through butter. You know they’ll meet even less resistance should he turn them on you, and the thought makes you shudder even harder. “What belongs to the town belongs to me, that was the bargain.” He’s so close now that the heat of him is almost unbearable.
“A whole town of people isn’t enough for you?” You ask, and his laughter shakes the ground under your feet. Your nose is bleeding again, a steady trickle of dark crimson dripping down onto your chest. He licks his lips again, before reaching forward to swipe his finger through the flow. He pops it into his mouth and moans, like he’s savoring the taste.
“Nothin’s enough for me, sweetness. That’s my nature.” He cages you in with his arms, resting his palms on either side of your head as he leans in. “But I must say, you got me powerful interested.” Your stomach churns at the mention of his interest, and you turn your head away. It’s making you nauseous, the flickering between his forms, and you don’t want to see it anymore.
You don’t think you were ever supposed to see it in the first place.
You’ve never been much for prayer, but as you lift your eyes heavenward, Lee barks out a laugh.
“He ain’t here, honey. These people gave willingly to me—so He abandoned them, this place. Not too merciful, if you ask me.” He leans in closer, and you can smell the woodsy aftershave lingering on his skin. The rough, forked tongue between his lips traces the shell of your ear, and you whimper as he presses his nose to your jawline, inhaling deeply.
I don’t want to die.
“I’ll tell you what, sweetness. Never let it be said I ain’t a fair man.” You swallow the desire to retort that he isn’t a man at all—he never was. “I’ll let the whole town go. Emma, Earskill, that fat fuck of a preacher.” He noses down the side of your throat, his lips moving softly against your skin as you squirm. And when he pulls away, the coal embers in his eye sockets are burning bright with desire.
You’re not stupid—you know the deal he’s asking you to make. You meet his gaze stubbornly, even though it hurts and fresh blood leaks from your nostrils. “No.”��
“I can make ‘em all die screamin’, if that’s what you want, sweetness.” His teeth drag along the skin above your modest collar. “I can take ‘em all apart, atom by agonizing atom, and then put em back together just so I can do it again.” The sharp pain in your skull makes you wail, unprepared for the sharp severity of it. It’s like someone took an axe to your head, and poured liquid fire through the cracks. You’re shaking your head, blood dribbling down your lips as you scream, staring forward. You’re seeing nothing and everything, too much—
So many bodies, snakes writhing among the fallen as the ground splits open like a jagged mouth to swallow them all down, down—
“I can shred their fuckin’ souls, down to the deep, dark nothin’.”
A barren, black wasteland where once there was green, the earth oozing thick crimson, and a throne of sleek obsidian with him atop it—
“Stop,” you plead raggedly. It feels like you’re melting from the inside out, you don’t want to see anymore, you can’t take it. “Stop, please!”
The onslaught ends as Lee’s lips find your temple. “I don’t like hurtin’ you, honey. But I ain’t got that same conviction for the other sacks of meat walkin’ the streets around here, you understand?”
“Why?” You croak, your eyelids fluttering as the pounding subsides. “Why me?”
“Ain’t nothin’ like takin’ a soul meant for the other side.” His tongue is a wet rasp against your throat, not dissimilar to wet sandpaper. “I can already taste it.”
Your mind spun even as he raised clawed fingers to pluck at your nipples through the cotton of your dress. You weren’t sure whether to feel some twisted relief that trying to be a good person had done you some good—but how much good, if you’d ended up in the clutches of a fucking demon?
“So what d’you say, sweetness? We got an accord?” He cups your breast, testing its weight in his hand. When you don’t answer, he nips your earlobe with sharp teeth. “Deal ain’t gonna be on the table forever, sweetness. Don’t forget I could flay each one of them and take you anyway. Just for fun.”
You think of kind Emma, who had done her best to intervene on your behalf. Of Didi, so pregnant she was ready to pop.
Of your mother, whose soul you know with absolute certainty is in his clutches too.
“You’ll let everyone go?”
“All of them. Every last one.” He lifts his head to fix you with a hard stare. “But you’re mine. Forever.” Forever was a long, long time… but how worth it would the next sixty years of your life be, knowing what you’d traded? Who you’d traded?
“Then it is struck.” Lee laves his hot tongue up the side of your throat, and it burns, burns like acid. And when you lift your fingers to gingerly touch at your flesh, you find raised lines. “Don’t worry yourself, honey. Jus’ a little brand.” He finally leans away, and when he does, he seems to shrink back into himself, flowing back into the form that doesn’t give you nosebleeds just to look at.
He appraises you with appreciation not unlike the kind you’d seen when men bought cars. A new toy, a fresh model to show off and enjoy as they pleased.
Your dress sticks wetly to your body, and now that the absurd heat of Lee is gone, you shiver in the cool afternoon air. Rain beats steadily down outside, never having let up for an instant. Lee licks his lips.
“Take that off.”
“Off.” He leans irreverently against the tomb, and you raise trembling fingers to reluctantly undo each button. Lee watches with hungry, insistent eyes as you reveal inch after inch of clammy skin, and when you reach the hem, you drop it to the stone floor beneath you.
“Oh, honey, look atcha,” he breathes, and you can practically feel the warmth of his hands skirting your sides though he stays still. “Pretty as a fuckin’ picture.” He palms himself through his pants. “The bra too.”
You unhook it numbly. “No panties, sweetness?” He taunts. “I’m surprised.”
“Fuck you.” It slips out before you can stop it, and in the blink of an eye, Lee is on you. His fingers dig into your jaw, holding your head still as he forces you to look at him. A terrified, pained whine leaks from your throat and you meet his gaze fearfully.
“Now when I let go, you’re gonna be a good girl for me, understand? You’re gonna be polite n’respectful. Eternity’s a long time to piss me off, sweet pea.” His grip tightens a fraction, and your bones creak.
“Y-yes,” you whimper, and he nods.
“Good girl.” His mouth crashes against yours, and he drinks your displeased whine with relish. His lips are deceptively soft against your own, and he pulls you flush against his body, groaning. “Fuckin’ sweet,” he mutters against your mouth. When your lips are swollen and throbbing, he pulls back, admiring his handiwork.
“I look good on you, honey.” You swallow a biting retort, your breath catching as he slides his hands up your belly to cup and squeeze your tits. “M’gonna enjoy this.” His eyes flick back up to yours. “And you’re gonna enjoy it too.”
He flicks his thumbs across your pebbled nipples, and you hate the way it sends sparks straight down to your core. You’re determined to shut him out, to give him nothing, but he isn’t satisfied with that. Lee drops his hand to the fatty curve of your vulva, his fingers caressing the skin there.
“Think she’ll be wet for me, sweetness?” He asks mockingly, and you bite your lip, pressing your thighs together in an attempt to keep him out. “Aht-aht,” he slaps your thigh with his open palm and you hiss at the sting. “None of that.” He slaps at your leg again, and you hesitantly unclench your muscles.
“Atta girl.” Lee leans away, holding your gaze as he cups the vee between your thighs. His fingers trace through your damp folds and his grin widens. “She is, she’s so nice n’ wet for me, like I knew she would be.” Your clit throbs hotly against his thumb, and you whine, shaking your head uselessly.
You uselessly try to deny the truth he can feel with his fingertips. He holds them up for you to see, smeared with the sticky evidence of your body’s response.
“Can’t lie to me, sweetness.” He presses the heel of his palm against your clit as he circles your entrance with one finger. Lee dips it in and out of you before sheathing a thick finger fully inside you. You huff, hissing through your teeth at the intrusion, while he curls it in and against you.
“S’tight, honey,” he growls sucking the skin of your throat hard enough to bruise. “Suckin’ me in… I think she’ll do that to my cock, don’t you?”
“N-no,” you pant, hating the pleasure beginning to roil through you at his touch. You try to think about anything other than the slow stroke of his thick fingers inside you, the grind of his thumb against your clit—but it’s a useless endeavor. Your reluctance doesn’t stem the tide of pleasure growing inside you, and Lee knows it too.
“I’ll punish you for that lie later,” he snarks, and you bite back a moan. It shouldn’t feel so good, but as your thighs tremble, you feel yourself being dragged down by the undertow into the electrifying heat he’s stoking at your core. Lee leans down to kiss you again, teeth and tongue pressing at your lips as he swallows down the sounds you try to hide.
“Like bein’ a good girl for me, don’tcha?” He murmurs, trailing his lips down your jawline. Your pussy clenches wetly around his fingers, and he hmms in approval. “Answer me.”
“Y-yes sir,” you mumble shamefully, and Lee drags his teeth down your throat.
“Couldn’t hear you, darlin’. Speak up for me.”
“Yes sir.” You can feel the push of his cock against your thigh through his pants, and he grinds against you, growling.
“Good girl.” Your control is fraying with every pass of his fingers, and when he removes them from your center, you’re embarrassed by the wet noise of it. He cleans his fingers with relish, holding your gaze as he wraps his lips around each one, sucking noisily. “Like fuckin’ honey.” Your entire body thrums with each pulse of your core, and you’re torn between sickening disgust at yourself, and the desire to finish what he started.
The tinkle of his belt buckle and zipper shake you out of pleasurable delirium, and you blink panic-wide eyes at him. “W-wait, Lee—” He fixes you with a glare, and your mouth snaps shut. The tomb is solid behind you, and with Lee pressed relentlessly against your front, you’re left with nowhere to go. No escape as he pushes the weeping head of his cock through the slick petals of your sex.
A strangled moan reverberates against the stone walls, and it takes you a moment to realize the sound came from you. He smirks as he taps his cock harshly against your clit, white hot pleasure making you mewl as your hips buck forward without your consent or control.
“All that belly achin’ just to go stupid for my cock anyway, huh sweetheart?” He coos, using the hard weight of his cock to deliver another stinging, tingling slap to your clit. He does it again and again until tears gather in your eyes, your cunt clenching wetly around nothing as you writhe underneath him. He won’t let you have a spare second to think, to gather your reserves, and when he slides against your entrance your ragged moan makes your cheeks hot with shame.
Lee leans back to watch as he pushes slowly in, and you can’t help but do the same. He’s thick, almost as thick around as your wrist, and you watch helplessly as inch after inch of him disappears into your cunt. You whine at the stretch, pulling your hips back as far as you can until they meet the stone behind you.
“Don’t run from my cock, sweetness.” His words are a hoarse moan. “M’gonna ruin you on it.” You don’t know how he fits, but when he bottoms out, you’re leaning back against the tomb haphazardly, staring unseeingly at the dark ceiling above you. Your lips are parted and harsh breaths whistle through them.
“So fuckin’ tight,” Lee groans, thrusting shallowly. The head of his cock bumps against your cervix, and it’s like pleasurable agony as you convulse. “Feels good doesn’t it?” His hands are locked around your hips, and your toes trail on the floor as he hoists you up higher. You moan brokenly as the fit becomes even tighter, and Lee lifts your leg, hooking his arm underneath it to open you up to his gaze.
You’re not even supporting your own weight anymore, leaning heavy against the tomb as Lee easily carries the rest.
He pulls out slow, and once just his tip is kissing against your entrance, he plunges back in with a growl. Your walls flutter around him, and you don’t have the presence of mind anymore to hold back the sounds you know he wants to hear. “Look how tight she’s squeezin’ me,” he pants. “Knew you’d get nice n’messy on my cock, sweetheart.”
You know he’s right—you can hear the evidence of it, hear the slick slick slick of his cock sliding in and out of you, stretching you so good every time. Your fingers scrabble for purchase on his jacketed shoulders, digging into the leather.
“Where’s your manners?” He asks snidely, his hips driving eagerly into yours. He uses his free hand to trace the seam of your lips with his thumb. “You say thank you for making you feel so good.”
Your voice trembles with every thrust as you stare up at him though wet lashes. “Y-es S-ir, t-thank yo-u s-ir,” he slides his thumb between your lips, pressing down on your tongue till drool starts to leak from the corners of your mouth.
“Again,” he growls, his neatly slicked black hair falling into his eyes as they flicker between storm gray and coal-ember red. “Again.”
“F-ank you shir,” you mumble around his thumb, as pleasure makes your eyes roll. If you could think, you would wonder what your aunt, your mother, would make of this, what they would think of you trading your body and soul to this thing—but you can’t. You just want release, the sweet oblivion that every pass of Lee’s cock is driving you towards. Your hips meet his eagerly as fucking supernovas burst in front of your unseeing eyes.
“Fuck, you goddamn little slut,” he curses, and the fingers that dig into your thigh are clawed, and you wail as the pain and pleasure blend into something new and all consuming. “Gonna take it whenever I tell you to, huh?” Your pussy bears down hard as if in answer.
You can’t even answer as the tide begins to pull you under, your toes curling against the floor and your body arching toward him as meaningless babble falls from your lips. “Y-yes, Lee—can’t—m’cumming,” you’re moaning pathetically, your head falling against his chest as you come undone. You’re only dimly aware of the gush of slick that coats his cock, his thighs and your own as your cunt bears down hard around him.
You can hear the grinding Lee’s claws against the stone as they sink into the tomb behind you, and he presses his forehead to yours as his cock throbs inside you. Time seems to slow as he ruts into you once, twice more before you feel thick, hot ropes of his cum paint your still trembling walls. He stays inside of you for a moment, like he’s savoring the feel of your tightness around him before pulling out slowly.
The combination of your juices begins to leak warmly down your thigh, and when you move to wipe at it with your hand, Lee catches your wrist.
“Leave it, sweetheart.” He instructs you, greedily raking his eyes down your debauched, shaking form. You watch as he tucks himself back into his pants, and you push yourself up to standing with weak arms. The rain has stopped, finally, though the air outside remains muggy and misty, heavy with an impending second shower. You reach for the discarded dress, and are just shrugging it over your shoulders when the sound of footsteps approaching makes you look at Lee with panicked eyes.
Lee blocks your body with his own, and you’re grateful for the gesture, even if it’s only because he doesn’t want to share you.
“Russo. I thought you were patrolling down by the levy.” It’s the same young man that had greeted you at the station.
“Yessir, I just was drivin’ by and with the squall and all I thought I’d make sure you folks were all set up here.”
“Isn’t that nice.” You don’t miss the derision in Lee’s voice. “We’re all set here.” If Russo thinks it’s strange the two of you are in the mausoleum, he says nothing, seeming not to notice the claw marks on the stone, the cracks in the floor. Lee pulls the doors shut behind him, and sets a leisurely pace down to the car—which is suddenly, inexorably within sight.
You think of your endless run through the graveyard, and wonder wryly how much of it was even real. You wonder how far you could get if you begged Russo to help you get away, though the thought is driven out of your head by the sharp tap that Lee delivers against your backside.
“I see the gears turnin’ in that pretty head of yours,” he says quietly, kneading the soft flesh of your ass with deceptively tender. “I wouldn’t kill him.” His lips brush the shell of your ear as you freeze in place, your damp dress fluttering in the suddenly heavy air. “I’d never kill him.” His meaning makes bile rise in your throat as you’re reminded of not only your eternity, but of the suffering he will glory in showing you if you disobey.
Russo turns around, a bright, friendly smile on his face. “You okay back there?”
“Oh yeah,” Bodecker says with a grin of his own. “Poor thing’s just a lil’ faint. M’gonna take her back to the station, see if I can’t set her up on that sofa in my office so she can rest up.”
The other officer nods, and Lee’s fingers thread through your own in a sickening mockery of affection.
“I think we’re gonna have us a whole lot of fun, you and I.” He says, licking his lips. Your free hand strays to the brand on your throat that you were willing to bet no one else could see, and he smirks.
“A whole lot of fun.”
𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐂 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒
🌀 Sentence starters meant to be used as roleplay prompts . This is from the mun's 2022 Spotify Wrapped, songs 1-30. Please feel free to change pronouns and words as needed. And give it a heart if you recognize the songs!
are you shining just for me?
there's just so much that i can't see.
i felt it from the first embrace i shared with you.
all we're looking for is love from someone else.
i'll be here, and you'll be alright.
all that i need's this crazy feeling, i think i want it to stay.
you never shined so brightly.
visions are seldom all they seem.
is there something else you're searching for?
in all of my good times i find myself longing for change.
in the bad times, i fear myself.
aren't you tired of trying to fill that void?
you live, but you hardly talk.
i see you everywhere.
apart from you, i have no expectations.
i'm not crazy, i love you, that's all.
take my hand and promise me that everything will be fine.
hold me tight...i want to stay.
i don't know how to love anymore.
love makes a fool turn into a king.
i'd fight for you again and again.
we're living a love story.
you are all i long for, all i worship and adore.
in other words, i love you.
you know that i want you, you know that i need you.
i want your love and i want your revenge.
you're a criminal as long as you're mine.
go to sleep, little one. you are so precious to me.
you are safe in my arms, safe from any harm.
i promise to love you every day of forever.
you are the most beautiful soul to me.
you are my life, before you i was lost.
saving you saved me.
i'm so afraid of dying lonely, and i swear to god i love you only.
where are the make believers?
i've strayed away from good intention more often than i care to mention.
it seems at times i've left behind the songs of yesterday.
the truth of the matter is that i never let you go.
look at the stars, look how they shine for you.
you know i love you so.
for you, i'd bleed myself dry.
come, let me love you. let me give my life to you.
let me drown in your laughter, let me die in your arms.
let me always be with you.
hold me safe and keep me warm.
you can't read my poker face.
russian roulette isn't the same without a gun.
baby, when it's love if it's not rough it isn't fun.
i could run and look for shelter.
don't you know you stop the room?
you must be my once in a lifetime.
i wanna run to feel again, to be no one.
let's paint our bodies and chase the sky.
if i never know, at least i'll lie.
all my life i've been burning by the dreams i've had.
everybody loves the things you do
you feel like home. you're like a dream come true.
can i have a moment? before i go?
nobody told me that you'd be here.
i guess i still care. do you still care?
our flaws are who we really are
i've been here too long, and i don't want to wait for it.
i'm willing to fight for this and carry this weight.
when i close my eyes i see you everywhere.
you found her, now go and get her.
we'll raise a toast to the dreams we never lost.
people pray in church on sunday for moments like the day you took my hand.
i'll love you until the day i die.
some things were meant to be.
take my hand, take my whole life too.
it was a careless kiss, i must confess...
i do care, but it hurts too much.
i'm worried that it's gonna get too hard.
i'm not gonna make it.
will i have wasted all this time if we don't see this through?
if i'm not what you need, i promise i'll play the part.
so you know how prime is a religion in the dsmp, and its based around twitch primes. do you think ctechno and his subscribe bell could be a similar thing or do you think other characters are completely confused by this habit of his but are too polite to really. say anything.
I LOVE religion in the dsmp so much. It’s so much fun. Okay. I view the subs vs primes thing as like, two closely linked religions that maybe had the same roots, but branched off as religions are wont to do. They have the same religious practice of ringing the bell, but different institutions. I think Prime is more organized, they have a church and is more widely followed, while Channel Membership is a more individual thing.
Techno prays at home, he prays on a regular schedule, while Tommy prays more based on need or location, i.e. "any primes for [bad thing happening to him/thing he did or is going to do]", or primes when on the prime path/in the church.
You've awoken my desire to talk about dsmp religion. I will exploit this to its full advantage.
Gonna put some more thoughts myself and my dear @nortyeye had the other day under the cut. it will be so much more than you asked for. I'm gonna give y'all some of my very best Religion AnalysisTM.
So, on the subject of prayer Norty pointed out that while Techno's religion isn't as widely followed and isn't an institution, when he prays it's a very public thing. He prays in vc with everyone and invites people to participate. Tommy is the one connected to a church, but when he prays he goes to a different vc and it's a personal thing between him and his god(s).
Some folks have interpreted Prime as a goddess, which is valid, but I prefer Prime not being a singular entity. Prime is an extension of chat, is it not? Prime is not one god, it is a mass of witnesses.
Prime can give support or scolding, wisdom and nonsense, but Prime also LOVES who it follows. It’s a case of religion where the follower is the deity and the worshiper is always looking over their shoulder to make sure their faith is close behind.
I also like that Techno not only has a slightly different religion, but still fundamentally the same FORM of worship, it makes the contrast more clear in how he’s so different to say Tommy. He views his religion with something more like amusement and detachment. ‘The voices’ are not his equals, they’re Helpful sometimes. They can give him things in return for his prayer, but I don’t know if Techno’s relationship to religion can be quantified as FAITH.
Norty gave this killer line of "he views his religion as something less than holy and that is a fascinating difference."
And I wholeheartedly agree. He views them, if we’re being charitable, as something like allies, or fond sponsors who give ribbons to their favorite knight. He acknowledges them, and for Techno that feels almost like respect, and he prays Very regularly, but it feels so procedural. He knows exactly what he gets from this relationship, nothing more and nothing less.
Not holy, but a mutual understanding between beings Above mortals, a blood god and his hungry shadows hanging around his head.
We love to fanonize the idea of Techno being compelled to violence, that control is a constant burden he carries to resist the urge to kill and maim and I won’t say they aren’t a nuisance, but Techno has never once seemed out of control with the voices. Sometimes he goes “they’re telling me blood for the blood god” but that’s a warning/threat for OTHER people, not something confronting HIM.
Something else I adore about religion on the dsmp, Tommy and Techno worship beings that cannot directly interfere. They can offer advice and solace and witnessing and encouragement, but they are incapable of actually changing the world. Outside of like, twitter polls I guess lmao.
The "real" gods of the server are almost treated as pests? You stay out of XD's way, you don't worship him.
Reverence is not a factor of religion in this world I feel like. Religion is either a comfort or a transaction or sometimes both. People do pray to XD, but only when they need something. Or they warn people not to do xyz because the gods will punish them. That’s not love or companionship. Not in the way Techno and Tommy experience religion, at least.
Norty's thoughts on XD are SO good, saying, there's something about XD seeking that kind of human companionship first in George and now in Foolish, and yet lacking the simple human compassion that would make that companionship possible. The difference between Prime/Channel Membership and XD is that he's not a comfort because he doesn't Care. He can give material items and power but he doesn't give advice or comfort or anything they turn to prime and channel membership for, so everyone who seeks him out to worship is going to do so seeking that power he can offer and not the other things. Even Drista they're more likely to go to for comfort because she gives a shit some times and isn't a power for power exchange. If you buy into the idea that worshiping gives divinity.
Which is SUCH a good point. Like, XD can impact their world very substantially, but he does not get the worship that Prime and Membership do as religions despite their inability to do anything more than Be There for Them, because isn't that what religion is for? To know you're not alone?
XD is fascinating because he’s such a mess. I want more stories where gods are just unattached bastards with too much power. Norty's point on seeking power– the Egg is also as close to another god on the server as we can get. It was definitely worshiped, but under duress. Well there’s also brainwashing factors which complicate things but the point stands. To be fair– XD is no better surely. His worshipers are under duress also.
Drista has one goal which is morally neutral– to have fun! She’s chaos, and she will destroy and kill, but there’s so much less.... Malevolence behind it? It’s mischief. XD is also mischief, but in a different way.
When people ask for things, like genuinely ask for things, they tend to ask Callahan. Sometimes Callahan isn't even viewed as a god, but people trust in him more than they do in the so-called "actual" gods. When people want something silly and big like a bunch of gold or an elytra, they jokingly ask XD, rarely expecting anything to come of it.
Callahan isn’t free of the power trip either, but he’s so... among the people? And calm? He doesn’t torment people, he will bother them. He knows how to exist among humans in a way the others don't.
Norty noted that Callahan feels kinder, because he appears in the midst of conflict, not just causing problems in the aftermath, that Callahan feels more like a god who used to be a person than a god who wants to be a person (note: this was before the XD lore with Callahan. Norty has a sprinkle of Apollo's curse as well lmao)
I love that notion that Callahan feels kinder. I think it’s because he doesn’t feel like he’s playing with dolls. He’s causing trouble and mischief and on the rare occasion abusing his power, but he does it among people who he views as people, not putting light on an ant hill to see what will happen like XD does.
He also chooses sides, which you’d think a god shouldn’t, but oddly enough he keeps his godly powers out of it. Maybe he was just in the disc war finale to see, just curiosity, but he was still there.
People can forget Callahan is a god. You cant do that with XD because he won’t let you.
Norty continues with the killer lines with "XD is the kind of god that makes your teeth hurt. Callahan is the kind of god that makes your stomach warm."
Somehow that quantifies The Vibe perfectly.
We also have these weird states of being half-gods. This is more a tangent on other characters associated with godhood.
Bad has been given abilities, but it’s like they’re behind a glass box that says “in case of emergencies” y'know? While other "almost-gods" like Philza and Techno are powerful ONLY within the confines of what everyone else can do. Foolish is weaker in this world, and getting any godliness takes so much strength it almost doesn’t make him seem godly at all. XD treats Foolish the way he’d treat any other ant on the ant hill. Callahan has been annoying Foolish lately, people think because he wants a statue too maybe, but Callahan when annoyed with Foolish is still more compassionate than XD is when he’s APPROVING of Foolish.
I'm also still rattled by the fact that Dream is not made in the image of XD, XD is made in the image of Dream.
As Norty said, "of course XD is fucked up. Look at who he based himself off of in the pursuit of humanity."
Norty also brought up the point that it seems that Foolish becoming less divine the longer he is on the dsmp. That says something about creation as divinity and the value inherent to worship. Hopefully his arc leads him to find the beauty in mortality and the connection to divinity being found in creating something that will outlive you.
I think Foolish is a fascinating lens to look at the gods through because of his estranged relationship with godlihood. This may sound strange, but he seems just as frustrated with his powerlessness now as he was when he first came here, but his awareness of that powerlessness has gotten worse. But the frustration hasn’t! He's grown! It feels like he’s adjusting. He’s frustrated with his lack of power and god knows he’s suppressing his own mortality with intense gusto but he also has just. Almost moved on? "Whelp wish I could fly but I know how to use scaffolding now" type deal. His loss of power doesn’t weigh on him as strongly I don't think because he can still create!
This is a little more out there, but I think if Foolish had entered this state of weakness back in his mass slaughter days, he would've ended up more like early Sapnap or Techno in temperament. (Norty gut-punched me with "I think he and Wilbur would have a lot to talk about.") A genocidal Foolish rendered weak– he isn't strong enough to kill hundreds of people, so would he run around slaughtering pets? He cannot rain down destruction, but he can summon withers that will. Those kinds of behaviors feel like methods of coping with not feeling strong enough if I may say so.
Putting this under a read more bc it's gonna be long,
TLDR; I love TBAGG, Greta Van Fleet, and I'm overwhelmed about this new era.
TW: Mentions or religion, death, personal experiences with the baptist church, my pouring out everything I've delt with since 2020 cause I need to let it all out.
I'm feeling so many emotions right now and I'm having trouble processing it all. I knew TBAGG was deep but after listening to Meet The Master I'm not reflecting on how deep that album really goes.
There's a new level of pain mixed with strands of falling in love. It's like I'm seeing the story of the album in 4k now.
When I first discovered GVF I was in the early stages of my deconstructing process as a Christian. I'd just recently made the decision to leave the church and really focus on myself and make my spiritual journey something more personal. The church I attended thrived off of taking people's testimonies and making them a an example. Stealing away the personal aspect of a testimony and molding it to be a sermon. That's why I was so drawn to Stardust Chords, cause I experienced it first hand. That song spoke to me the most after experiencing what I have.
Nothing and nobody can take away how I feel God has personally spoken to me though through Greta. I don't talk about my spiritual beliefs a lot as I don't want to make it seem like I'm shoving it down someone's throat. But, I would love to share this with you all.
in 2019 leading up to 2020 I felt drawn to pray to God to prepare my heart and strengthen me before I attended a 3 day conference called Passion. I didn't know why but I prayed and prayed and i felt so at peace about it. I've never felt closer to God. Passion is held at the Mercedes Benz Stadium in Atlanta so just imagine a stadium PACKED with over 60,000 people worshipping the Lord. It was such a powerful thing. The whole trip I was telling my church group, "They're gonna open the dome I can feel it!" and they would all shoot me down, "They won't", "do you know how much it would cost them to do that? they aren't gonna open it!". After a while I let it go cause maybe they were right.
Well, when Kari Jobe and her husband Chris Carnes came on stage to perform, I was into it, totally drawn in. I feel a tap on my arm from my friend and he tells me to look up, as soon as I did I was hit with the BIGGEST gust of wind that could have rushed through that stadium, it was cold but comforting. It wasn't windy in the slightest that day, but above me was an open dome and a beautiful blue sky. I was moved to tears and so was everyone around me. We felt it, we knew what we'd just experienced.
Later that evening I open instagram to see a post from Kari that I'll link for you all. I was floored and had a new wave of tears flow through me. God heard me. He heard my prayers and he communicated that to me in those moments.
Kari's Instagram post
Little did I know that God was preparing my heart for all the stress and pain I was yet to endure. Days after I get pack from Passion, my Grandaddy is taken to the hospital, upon arrival we see my Great-Aunt there in the ER waiting to be admitted. They were both on the same floor so it made it easy for family to go back and forth. My Grandfather had an ulcer in his stomach, the cauterized it and clamped it. The problem was he couldn't eat anything till he passed the clamp and that could take up to two weeks.
After he started aspirating into his lungs, they ultimately told us there was nothing else they could do and it was time to call in hospice. I felt my world crashing down around me. My Grandaddy was basically my Dad. He stepped up to the plate when my Dad left and helped raise me. A few days after we moved him to Hospice, we heard that my great-aunt had blood clots on her lungs and wasn't going to make it. She passed at 3 am the following morning, my Grandaddy passed almost 8 hours later in Hospice. I had to watch him starve to death, it was the more horrifying things and I'd never wish it on anyone.
Nothing can prepare you for the pain of watching someone you love so much slowly fade away.
That was only January! In February I planned my Grandaddy's funeral and we had his celebration of life. I don't remember much of it since I was under such a thick cloud of grief and depression. Days later, my friend Terra passes away from child birth complications. I'd known her since I was 15, we basically grew up together despite just being online friends. She was like a big sister to me and I admired her so much. I still miss her so bad and wish I had her still to reach out to. She always knew how to comfort me best.
Please stick with me I promise Greta ties into this hell.
In March I was sexually assaulted and almost raped. And then the world shut down cause of covid. Let's just say I'm surprised nobody Baker Acted me.
In 2021, my Uncle passed. He stepped up after my Grandaddy passed to be there for me and I'll forever be grateful to him. The last words he said to me just days before he passed was 'I love you' and I'll always hold that close to my heart.
In 2022, my Mom lost a very dear friend who I always called my aunt, and two weeks later her brother, another uncle of mine, passed. It was all very sudden and unexpected.
For three years I've been plagued with grief and sadness. It's crazy how everything is connected though. If it wasn't for all these events happening I wouldn't have discovered Greta. I downloaded tiktok during the pandemic desperately looking for something to make me laugh or distract me. I wouldn't have had any interest in that app or spent as much time on it if it wasn't for everything. I wouldn't have stumbled across their funky lil SNL performance several times before caving and looking into who tf they are.
I wouldn't have taken the jump to make this blog, make friends, or have this connection that I do to this band. I'm so glad that Josh questions everything. I'm so glad he picks people's brains to find a deeper meaning to life. I'm so glad he and the rest of the band translate all these questions, thoughts, and feelings into songs that I will never ever forget.
Meeting the Maker is so much more to me than a new single. It's closure. It's my light at the end of the tunnel and I feel like I can breathe. This band came into my life when I needed them the most but I didn't realize the depth of that till this morning. The lyric "It's my time to go home" sit so personally to me as that was the last thing my Grandaddy said to my cousin. He told her he was going home to Jesus and he was ready.
This song felt like a final hug from him and I can not put into words what that means to me. The message of the song for me was "I see you! I see you grieving but rejoice! I'm going home to my master! The master is good!" and boy is he ever. I see the Garden as their own interpretation of Heaven, there's no pain, no battles, no darkness, just vast amounts of light, peace, and healing.
In these three years, almost four, I haven't had a moment to process any of the loss I've suffered. Work and other responsibilities didn't stop just cause I wanted to.
This new album Greta is about to release if going to bring me to my knees and I have a feeling they are going to help me experience all the healing I've been begging for.
Nobody can take away what this band means to me.
*slides in* hey Roni soooo Pastor son!Techno right? The au I’ve been brain rotting over for two days??? Well here’s my thots before I disappear and become a cryptid again
So Pastor Son!Techno right? You’ve seen him around church. I mean he IS THE PASTOR’S SON. All of the adults say he’s a bad influence.
“He’s nothing like his sweet brother Wilbur!”
“We keep telling about him purity and abstinence and he fights us on it at every turn”
“We’ll we’re ready to give up on him!”
Well they were…until you came into the picture. Sweet, obedient, good influence, good with people, pure. You were perfect for “uncorrupting” this lost boy. So you were in charge of “keeping an eye on him” which just meant “follow-him-around-and-keep-him-out-of-trouble”
That’s what you start doing. You sit in the back where he usually sits. You start ditching the church lunches and events they hold to follow him into the woods by the church where he usually hangs out.
It’s honestly freeing, you’ve gotten so much more relaxed when you didn’t have to be obedient and perfect. You forgot that you were supposed to be watching Techno.
One Sunday, you found yourself at the river. The heat was unbearable and there was sweat dripping down your face and the layers of conservative clothing you were wearing. You could jump in the river.
You could jump in the river. Nobody was watching everyone was at lunch. Why not? You looked around before heading down to the bank and stripping off your clothes and hanging them on a nearby tree. After that you quickly jumped in.
The water cold but refreshing and dripping your head underwater was a blessing in this heat. The church leader would have a field day if they can’t you skinny-dipping. Even though nobody’s around it’s still terrible! You swam on your back for a bit, luckily the current was basically nonexistent.
After floating for a bit you took some shade under the trees where the branches hung over the water. It was relaxing, the breeze was kicking in and the water was little warm but it was the perfect balance. You closed your eyes and forgot about everything in your life, just for a minute. The sounds of nature filled your ears, the water flowing, the wind shaking the leaves, people talking.
PEOPLE TALKING?! NO NO NO THIS NOT BE HAPPENING THIS IS WHAT YOU GET FOR SKINNY DIPPING IN A PUBLIC RIVER.
You sunk your chest and shoulders underwater, trying to blend in with the tree. Let’s just hope they wouldn’t notice your clothes.
“You are so annoying Wilbur, why do you need ME to always cover for you?” a deep voice said
“Because you know what will happen to my reputation if the church found out if I was sneaking around with some of the girls?”
“Yeah, it’s gonna be soiled, you know what maybe it should, then you’ll know how it feels to be me!”
Fuck you know that voice, it’s Techno. You turned your body quietly to keep out of sight from the both of them. You saw them walk down the path and keep talking. There were about to walk past your clothes unnoticed. Thank god…
“Hey what’s that?” Wilbur said walking off the the path by the tree. He picked up your skirt and blouse…then he picked up your bra and underwater. Your cheeks burned with embarrassed.
“Leave that alone, Wilbur you don’t know where it’s been”
“Yeah but I know who it belongs to”
Fuck, Fuck, Fuck you should’ve know not to talk to him today. He complimented you on your outfit and he knows how you wear that white blouse to every Mass.
You rested your forehead on the tree trying to ignore what Wilbur’s about to tell him.
“Nevermind, I gotta go, you gonna wait here?” Wilbur asked
Please say “no,” PLEASE SAY NO
Wilbur left and Techno sat by the river. You tried to map out your escape route. If you swam underwater and got to the tree and changed quickly you can pretend you never went swimming in the first place. Or, you got get out and sneak behind him. Both versions had a risk of him seeing you naked, but one of them kept you in the water and warm. Alright, swim across it is. You pushed yourself off the tree and managed to swim across with him looking up from his mythology book.
You got out the water and kept staring at him as you snuck behind the tree. God, he was way to close for comfort, you kept staring at him and managed to get to an angle where you could see what he was reading. It was definitely not the mythology.
Well it was…but he definitely couldn’t care less about the text because on every page he flipped to had one of many naked women on it. Oh…
Well, his brother was going to sleep with a girl in a hayloft and he was stuck keeping guard…he had to do something. The shadow of you body casted onto the page and he whipped his head and beheld your naked body. Fuck
You were frozen and even though your clothes were right there. You didn’t want to move. He stared up and down at your body. You still couldn’t move. God, please don’t comment I know I’m not the best looking, there’s reason I wear all that clothing in 90 degrees.
“Your beautiful” he said before going back to his book.
You quickly regained control of your body and hurried to put in your clothes. You rung out your hair and put on your shoes. You were about to run back, but you back you had to make sure of something.
“Hey, you won’t tell anyone about this right? Because I can’t get in trouble…I’m already on thin ice”
“Relax, princess your fine you could have kept swimming I wouldn’t have cared” he said not taking his eyes off the book
“But I was naked”
“As God intended you to be, you were in your purest form nothing to be ashamed of”
“That’s so embarrassing though you saw me. I can’t…I can’t I’m not comfortable in my skin” You admitted, your cheeks burned, you were hot again.
He put down his book and turned to you. His face had the same expression as he stared you up and down, definitely imagining you naked.
“Well if you skin is something your not comfortable in your skin, I can help with that, after we’re done you’ll want a church built to worship you, how about my goddess?”
Hahaha might continue this might not who knows 😳
....................... I AM SCREAMING AND MIGHT?>?? YOU FUCKPING BETTER FCONTINUE THIS IS SWEEARE TO FUCKIGN GOD YOU GBEWTOWIEKSRJFLDS
CorruptMale!Sydney x afab/feminine!reader
Cw: Cross dressing, Dub con, piss mention but not piss kink? Haha, public sex
I am simply too embarrassed with myself to edit this any further so sorry for any mistakes
!!! Under 18 DNI !!!
Sydney had always been a good boy. Pure. Perfect. In the eyes of the lord at least. Going to church almost every day to help out, to pray. Showing a dedication even Jordan, the most devoted individual you know, admired. But you.... You ruined that.
Although, to be fair, if all that stood between him and sin itself was a few bits of flirting, some sexual knowledge graciously hidden from him for most his life, and letting himself have some free time, maybe it was always destined to be. For him to betray God. But, in all honesty, he was glad it was for you.
And he personally thought God didn't hold a candle to you anyways. You were so beautiful, perfect, and kind. A real person he could love and hold and truly appreciate. So his place of worship could be you, instead. Let you lead his life. Sure he'd stick to his obligations, still going to the church almost everyday, running the library counter, but you both knew: you were running the show. He'd drop it all for you if you gave a single hint you needed him to.
This was pushing his limits a bit too much, he had to admit.
You, cute as you could be, held out a skirt to him, giving him puppy dog eyes in the middle of the clothing store.
"Pleaseeeee~" you whined, slightly rubbing your legs together under your own skirt. A perfect match for the one in your hands. "We'll be matching! I've always wanted to be a matchy couple..." the whining continued, a pout on your face as you begged your boyfriend to put on the skirt.
He looked at you in pure shock, taking a moment to process what you were asking of him.
"No. I mean... We can find pants that match your skirt, but... I-I'm a GUY... I can't wear a skirt! What if I get caught!" He blurted out, his heart pounding. He was under the impression that you had dragged him to the women's section for some opinions on what to get for you, not for him. A normal, innocent date! His face went red as he goes to push the skirt away, out of sight.
"That wouldn't be the same!" You say with a huff. You pause for a bit, looking away, trying to think of the perfect words to persuade.
"Besides, nobody would be able to tell! You're so pretty, you could easily pass for a girl! And I could even do your make-up, it'd be a lot of fun." Your face drops into a pout, getting ready to go in for the kill.
"And... I don't have many girl friends to dress up with..." you replied in a hushed, sad tone so the surrounding customers couldn't hear. Your puppy dog eyes cast down as you start to tear up.
Sydney tensed, a flush filling his face in shame. It was true: you didn't really have any close female friends. You weren't very popular in school at all actually, similar to him, always busy striving for the best of grades, holding out on the little hope that if you do good in school you could escape this town.
And he didn't want to disappoint you. You had been through a lot lately in this town, be it stress from Bailey, or the punishments Leighton doled out on the two of you... together. He loved you too much not to listen. He sighed in defeat. Weighing his options before landing on the only answer he could give.
"F-fine... I'll do it. Because I love you. But. You're gonna owe me, okay?"
You look back up to him, your eyes sparkling, nodding excitedly as you shove him into the dressing room with the skirt and a top to match your own. You had thought it'd take more convincing, honestly. But you beamed at the thought of the cute boy in a skirt matching yours. Picturing the embarrassment on his face at being exposed like that in public. How delicious he'd look dressed as a girl.
Part of it really was the girl friends thing, you were lonely, but most of it was truly lecherous in nature. You loved seeing the church boy, YOUR boy, embarrassed, shy, being exposed. It was one of the few things you felt you had real control over these days, one of the few things you could influence.
And you loved that about Sydney.
At least, that sense of embarrassment was how it was supposed to go.
But as he confidently stepped out of the dressing room, tags for the clothes in hand, looking like a perfect, pretty girl, albeit a little tall, your heart started racing. It looked more natural than you were anticipating, and he knew it too. Walking over to you excitedly.
"To be honest, I didn't think I'd be able to do it but.... I look more like a girl than I'd thought!" He beamed. You had been looking forward to the nervousness on his face, him pulling down the back of his skirt, feeling exposed. "I guess it's the same as with my hair and glasses, I really should trust you to always know the best!" He giggled, a bright smile on his face as he pulled you to the check out.
You paid for the clothes and walked to the cosmetics store together, you huffing a little bit as you go along. Maybe you couldn't get him embarrassed in a skirt, but you were determined to get some kind of reaction before the end of the day. You were sure of it. Unbeknownst to you, he was treasuring the cute little look of frustration on your face. Your visible displeasure making him feel strangely pleased with himself.
Once you get to the cosmetic shop, you browse the make-up together, the counter girl occasionally voicing her opinion on what'd look best on the two cute girls. Occasionally Sydney would brush by extra close to you, his bare leg brushing against the underside of your skirt, a closeness that wouldn't have been ok in public if he was still dressed like a boy, but you two just looked like two extra affectionate girl friends. So nobody gave a second look. But it got your heart racing just to think about.
Eventually you landed on some eyeliner, mascara, and a red lip. His clear soft skin didn't really need any foundation, you silently cursed him for that, it was always the boys who got the clear skin they didn't need. You purchased it, and both walked out together holding hands, going towards the bathrooms to apply it. At least until you tried to drag him into the girls bathroom.
He let out a whine, "Do I have toooo?" His apparent female persona sneaking out, voice a bit higher than usual.
"Nobody will be able to tell, we can use the disabled stall so nobody will be able to tell, don't worry just come on! I wanna see you all cute!", you tugged on the sleeve of the shirt, dragging him deeper into your nonsense.
He willingly let you drag him after the mention of the family stall, a small smirk raising on his face that you didn't notice as you pulled him into the stall.
He still didn't look nervous, compliantly standing up as you attempted to do his make-up, quickly realizing this wouldn't work because of his height, you sit on the ground, patting the spot on the floor in front of you.
He makes a face, grossed out by the prospect of sitting on the bathroom floor with his bare legs. He instead puts the lid down on the toilet.
"Why don't you just sit in my lap and do it, that way we'll be face to face and you can put all the stuff on the edge of the sink?"
It was convincing enough, so you nodded before sitting everything down on the edge closest to the toilet, before straddling his legs. So used to him being the innocent little church boy, you barely even think of it as something to worry about, your thighs straddling his, bare skin touching bare skin, as you pull in close to his face, carefully applying eyeliner as best you can.
At least until you feel his hands on your ass. You stay in place for a second, the sudden touch surprising you, before pulling away from his face and whispering to him that you have to be very careful, so he shouldn't be messing around too much. He nods, and you go in close again.
You try to make both sides as even as you can, and gently blow on the applied eyeliner to help it dry quickly. He makes a scrunched up face at the unfamiliar feeling of ink drying on his eyelids.
"Ok you can open them back up!"
You sat back a little, admiring your handiwork. Very close to even. And even with just the eyeliner, you noticed he was very.... pretty. Too pretty actually. Excited to see how he'd look with the rest, you trade the eyeliner for mascara, trying your best to explain what you're going to be doing so he wouldn't be afraid of the spool near his eye. And with the mascara on his long lashes, he looked even more like a girl.
Time for the finishing touch, the red lipstick with coral tones you had picked out, thinking it'd contrast his pale complexion in a very nice way, complimenting the contrast with his black dyed hair.
"Now what im going to do is I'm going to do is put this on the inner side of your lips, ok? And you're just going to do this-" you act out how to blend out the lipstick with his lips, little pop noises coming from your lips each time you pull them apart, "- and it'll blend out and look really pretty, ok?"
He nods, slightly distracted from you on top of him, mixed with you on his lap, scooting around a little bit to get in a more comfortable position before you go in with the lipstick.
Now that you were done with his eyes, he could truly get a look at how close you were. How pretty you are as you stare intently at his open mouth, holding his chin between your fingers, eyes narrowed in at his lips. His breath stops for a moment, not wanting to let out air and ruin the moment. He finally feels what he knew would happen eventually, his dick getting harder as he watches your pretty little face close to his.
He'd never tell you, but actually your cheeks were redder than when this first began. And you felt warmer against him. He could almost swear the more make-up you put on him, the wetter your panties resting on his thighs got.
"Okay, I've got the lipstick on, now do what I told you."
He nods and makes little popping sounds before looking at you, "Did I do ok?"
Lips slightly parted and eyes half lidded, he looks at you. And he doesn't just look pretty anymore. You look away with a blush... He looks sexy.
"Y-yeah. You did perfect, we're all done, so-" you go to get up and put up all the lipstick and things into your bag, but he grips your thighs, keeping you in place.
"Sydney what are you doing?" You ask, still not looking directly at him.
"Look at me." He demands. You're a little shocked, you've never heard him this assertive before. You comply and look at his face, alluring in a way you can't fight. He looks better than most of the girls in school, the thought drifts absent-mindedly in your head.
"You owe me one, right?" He asks. You think back and nod. That was the agreement, after all.
He pulls you in closer, shifting you further up his legs and up to his crotch. You had been distracted this whole time but... he's hard.
"Can you help me out with this?" He asks, his chin on your shoulder as he lazily plays with your hair. And in a whisper, directly in your ear, you hear a needy, "Pleaseeeeee?" As his hips thrust lightly against your own.
The blush that had only been on your face now spreads, infecting your whole body. With him wrapped around you, a feeling of being trapped fills you. You gulp down a mouthful of spit that had mindlessly gathering in your throat.
Maybe you had gone too far in teasing him. Hell, when you first met him, he didn't know anything about this sort of thing. Let alone how to initiate it. He thrusts a second time, rubbing his dick against your vagina in a way that sends shivers down your spine.
Now this is more than you bargained for.
You move your hands to untangle yourself from him, push his torso away from yours, so you can look at him properly. He whines a bit in the process, giving you puppy dog eyes not too dissimilar from the ones you gave him earlier.
Past the make-up, they look so... lewd. Eyes looking like you're the only thing in the world, now rosy lips in a small pout, heavy breaths sighing out of him as he works himself up.
You really can't deny that face. You swallow again, looking away from him before nodding.
Until you remember where you are. The women's toilet. "Wha, wait Sydney you don't mean-"
But as soon as you nodded your head you signed your fate.
He makes quick work of your shirt, a button up, unbuttoning each one as fast as his hands could, revealing your bra. He leans in once again, leaving trailing kisses on your collar bone as he strips the shirt off your arms and tosses it onto the floor.
You get pulled into a hug as he goes to the clasps of your bra, poorly pawing at them trying to get it off. His face on your neck, you hear a small frustrated whine in your ear as he struggles, and then feel a smile once he finally succeeds. It also gets unceremoniously tossed onto the floor. Now your top is entirely bare. In the fucking women's restroom.
He looks at you, blushing and embarrassed, slightly trying to hide your shame from him, but not succeeding because, well, you're IN his lap. There's no escape from his gaze.
"You're so beautiful..." he whispers. You feel a tingle up your spine that sends shivers throughout your body, and you shift your legs because you can feel yourself get a little wet.
Oh. Shifting your legs was a bad move. You feel yourself grinding on his dick through both of your skirts without even thinking about it, teasing him further. A whimper escapes his mouth at the unexpected friction.
"I'm sorry but. We've gotta take care of this now." He says, using one of his arms to lift you up a bit by your ass so he can get his cock out from the straining grip of his underpants, freeing it entirely, rock hard and leaking a bit from the tip. You two had done it before, but you had always initiated, small teasings leading to you defiling him. But he hardly ever, no he never showed this much initiative. This much force. You didn't know it could turn you on like this.
Free, he then pulls your panties to the side, muttering something about sorry for the lack of preparation before lining himself up with your hole and slamming you down on it with his other hand. You make a squeak as it slides down fast, hitting you deeper than you would've thought. You were very wet.
He lets out a stuttered gasp, eyes rolling back in his head as he moves both his hands to grab your ass before moving you up and down the length of him, each motion making your heart beat faster and fast as you feel your insides squeeze him.
He shoves his head back into your neck, leaving lipstick stains as he kisses, nibbles, and sucks. You didn't notice until now, but you're making more noise than you'd hope to be making in a bathroom, whimpers and moans finding themselves slipping out of your throat a testament to the sin you're both participating in. In the fucking women's restroom. With your boyfriend in a skirt.
You begin to buck against him, the pleasure getting a bit much, and move your head to his neck as well, desperate breaths hot on his skin. You try to hold back all the small noises remembering your place, but you're so close to his ear, every little one he hears, and fuels him further.
You feel full with every connecting thrust into you, sitting on his lap leaving little length spared from being swallowed up by your pussy. His dick repeatedly hits all your sweet spots as you adjust your ups and downs to match his.
Little gasps, pants, and moans fill the stall, as you feel a tightening in your lower abdomen, getting close. He speeds up more, groping your ass, surely leaving deep imprints as he drags himself along your insides.
Your cervix practically kissing his tip every time he goes in, practically begging to be covered. How lewd, he thinks. Or he would be thinking. If he could form a coherent thought other than how good this feels and how much he needs to fill you up and how much he needs YOU.
He feels you twitch against him, your pussy begging for it really, begging for him. It's practically saying I love you to him, to his dick, as it sucks him back in with every pull out. Fuck he's close. He's so close. He's c-
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. You both freeze in your spots as someone else walks into the bathroom. As quickly as you can you pick your feet up off the ground, scared they'll see the two sets of feet and figure out what's going on. When you do this your pussy squeezes him tightly, practically trying to milk him dry. Begging for it. You do your best to hold your feet up while still sitting in his lap, each one of your hands holding an ankle, in an awkward balancing act you'd fail to keep if it wasn't for his hands holding you up.
The person goes into the stall next to yours, you hear the telltale signs of a squeaking door and a lock being closed. It feels so quiet in here all of a sudden. Maybe they could hear and tell the sounds of both of your thumping hearts.
You being scared and being in such an awkward position has your pussy absolutely torturing Sydney though, his cock being warmed inside you, occasionally twitching from the need to cum.
And then something snaps in him. Fuck this. As quietly as he can, he begins to grind up in you, using his arms around you in your precarious position to help you grind against him too, giving slight relief to his aching cock, but not nearly enough to get him back to where he was. The breath he was practically holding before grows heavy once again, while being as silent as he can hold it.
You look at him, eyes practically watering as you grow exhausted from holding this unpractical position of holding your own feet up, but he's too lost in you to notice your silent begging, let alone give into it. He again starts up with small little thrusts, hugging you close to muffle the noises and sliding you up and down him, as you hear the person in the next stall pee. Gross. So gross. When did you get this gross.
You silently pray they'll finish up fast. You're barely holding yourself normally, let alone while you're being fucked, biting your lower lip raw trying to not make anymore noise. You finally give up on your own lip keeping you quiet, substituting for Sydney's neck instead. Your teeth grab hard onto his skin, tears flowing out of you from pain of holding yourself this way as well as the pleasure of him scraping against all your good spots.
The person in the stall seems to finish up, flushing the toilet in which, covered by the loud sound, Sydney lets out a whimper and thrusts extra hard into you, sending waves of pleasure up your body.
Finally the person washes their hands and leaves, not knowing the torture they put you through, as soon as the door closes your hands let go of your legs and quickly become jello on either side of Sydney's as you once again start being aggressively rammed into.
"I thought they'd never leave." Sydney moans into your ear, once again getting close. You release your bite on hid neck and once again start openly moaning as quiet as you can, almost at your peak.
He unwraps one of his arms from around your waist, and places that hand against the top of your pubic area, searching for something amidst the slamming of your bodies together.
He fumbles a bit before finding your clit, but once he does. You were already at a high, already close, but this absolutely destroys you. You let out gasp, leading into a moan before you cut yourself off by covering your own mouth, as your brain get taken over by stars.
As you cum on his dick, pussy sweetly hugging him as he continues to thrust, he starts to twitch, cum flowing out in ropes into you, pressed up against your cervix like he's trying to fill you up. He makes little pitiful noises, sounding like a little puppy as he finally gets the release he was so desperate for.
You both stay in that position a while, slumped on one another, your legs feeling like lead now. Until you start giggling to yourself at how funny the situation is. You feel Sydney start shaking, laughing with you. He then leans back and grips your shoulders looking directly in your eyes with a very serious face.
"I, a man of the church, just got laid in the women's bathroom dressed like a girl." He says, trying his best to hold a straight face, but your giggles start up again, who would have thought, little Sydney the Faithful, would end up this tainted. A smile fills his face as he watches you giggle, a slight blush reaching his ears, as he once again puts his head on your shoulder, mouth near your ear.
"I'm the luckiest man in the world." He says, his dick, still in you, getting hard again at the sight of you so happy and laughing.
"Sorry babe, but we may have to go for round two." He whispers with a chuckle.
After all that, you two get as cleaned up as you can. He ended up with an exposed bite on his neck, while you had smudged kiss marks all up and down yours. You tried your best to get them off with the toilet paper in the stall, but to no avail. You both look kinda like whores, but hey, who cares, at least you're whores together.
You go to ride the bus back, Sydney still in his very convincing girl outfit, occasionally getting catcalled on his way down there, something you had grown used to but he hadn't ever really experienced this... explicitly before.
With a sigh, you both walk into the bus, talking lightly about if maybe you should get something else for self defense, when you notice there's only one seat left.
"Lady's first!" You jokingly say, letting your very cute 'girlfriend' take the seat. Sydney actually takes the spot, though, and you begin to make a face. 'How rude could he-'
But he pats his lap, signaling for you to sit on it.
'We're girlfriends, right? So this is ok.' He face seems to say, a smirk on his face. You shrug. Can't really fight that logic. So you sit on his lap.
And something feels hard.
Hun if you could do like nsfw hcs like what their like in bed and/or what their kinks are that would be great✨also you're amazing✨✨✨✨✨
What The Maze Runner Characters are Like In Bed
First and foremost: No, You're amazing!! Secondly, I did just a sort of broad "What they're like in bed" one but I will also do their kinks, in a seperate post. Just to keep this from becoming too long because I do so many characters.
Warning: Sexual references, sexual themes, no explicit smut
Definitely cares about your pleasure above his own and always takes care of you first before himself. Eats you out like a champ.
Is slow and thorough and would worship your body, specifically anything you’ve admitted to being insecure about/he’s noticed you’re insecure about.
He is incredibly enthusiastic about every aspect of your sex life. He is always ready to try new things, and eager to figure out what you like best.
When he’s feeling playful he’s a little cheesy and uses dirty pick up lines to let you know he’s in the mood, but when he’s feeling more serious or you guys haven’t had the opportunity to do anything in a while he’ll full on start teasing you in public like brushing his fingers up your thigh or against your ass.
Ben is a hopeless romantic and would love the stereotype of having your first time being special with rose petals and silk sheets and candles, but obviously in the glade that’s not really feasible so let’s just close our eyes and pretend.
Gets embarrassed very easily when thinking about anything outside the box and will blush like a sinner in church. Eager to try anything you want to but gets kind of nervous the more adventurous they get. Refuses to try anything that could hurt you and it takes a lot of convincing for him to try anything like choking.
Very kinky. Like the queen of kinks. And 100% a switch but dom leaning, if that makes sense. Very adventurous and always trying new things.
Doesn’t have many boundaries, and keeping it to the bedroom is a conservative idea to her. Will tease you in public, like full on getting you off with her hand under the table, or pulling you around the corner of a building to make out with you.
Very gentle and loves to take his time. Not really that vocal, and any sounds you make will make him blush but he loves them. He uses the noises you make to let him know what you like best.
Has to build up a lot of courage to let you know he’s interested but the more he does it the easier it is for him and he slowly becomes more and more shameless about it.
Frypan has a very high sex drive. Any time you’re interested, he’s interested and he can last for a surprising amount of time.
Makes jokes during sex, but only in the begining when things are still a little playful. After that he gets a little more serious and then he’s down to business, doing his best to make sure you both get thoroughly satisfied.
Always makes sure you guys don’t have anything planned after sex because you will be too tired to do anything.
Sort of intense and serious in the moment but that just means he’s passionate. Very passionate.
He has a lot of stamina but not like ‘multiple rounds’ stamina, instead ‘one round lasts over an hour’ stamina. This is because he’s a builder and is in pretty good shape.
Because he’s so strong he has a habit of manhandling you whenever he wants something. Picking you up and laying you on the bed, positioning you far too easily right in the middle of sex so he can get a better angle, holding your hips down while he eats you out so you’re not squirming so much.
100% A top all the time. Full fem!dom style, but in a different way then Brenda. Brenda gives me ‘latex suit and heels to step on you with’ dom whereas Harriet gives me ‘holding you by your hair while she pegs your ass doggy style’ vibes.
Will pointingly leave marks on you to let other people know you belong to her.
She’s also shameless about sex and will make innuendos in front of anyone.
This is surprisingly good with his hands, and that’s really all he needs to get you off, tease you, or absolutely drive you mad.
He loves to see you riding him, not only because he’s a switch leaning towards a bottom and loves to see you on top of him and completely in control while he’s fucking you but also because he loves that he gets to see very inch of you.
Hate to say this but his pleasure is definitely more important to him than yours is though I don’t think he realizes that.
Amazing with his mouth, though. That man is very very talented with his mouth, his confidence had to come from somewhere.
Very confident in bed and this comes out by him being very dominant. He is always in control and not in a conscious way but in the ‘I want to do this so I’m going to do this and you’re not gonna stop me’ way.
A very thoughtful lover. Will spend hours upon hours just figuring out what you love best/where all your sweet spots are.
Will use these sweetspots against you to get you to do things he says outside of sex. He also uses them to tease you in public/get you horny.
Loves a vocal lover. Those are his favorite, every sound you make is like music to his ears and he will make it a little challenge with himself to see how loud he can get you. But on the same side of the coin he loves when you have to try and be quiet cause it just accentuates how much he affects you, watching you choke down moans and whimpers.
She’s sort of scientific about it, not to be stereotypical but she definitely read some sort of medical book first to figure out all of the erogenous zones.
Likes to mark you up but in a subtle way, like under your clothes and out of sight, just for her to see as a reminder of your guys’ past times together.
Will ride your face while praising you. It just makes sense.
His favorite time to have sex is early in the morning, when you guys are both still half awake and it’s all lazy and slow and you guys just take your time and appreciate it.
As we know he loves to do crazy shit without thinking of the consequences, so he most definitely is adventurous in bed. The second he discovered bondage, ofr yourself or for him, he fell in love. That is definitely his biggest kink.
Very sweet and caring lover. Takes care of you thoroughly before taking care of herself, but isn’t completely selfless because the second you’re satisfied she is taking what she wants.
Teases you verbally the entire time, and despite being a sweet and caring lover she is absolutely into degrading her partner. She also loves to tease you in public, leaning over to whisper in your ear what she wants to do to you/have done to her later.
Loves foreplay. He could make out with you and grope like teenagers for hours before sex, he literally never gets tired of it.
So good with his mouth. Like surprisingly good with his mouth. Takes you apart in moments good with his mouth.
Very rough during actual sex and he feels sort of bad about it at first and tries to be gentler, especially if you bruise easily, but the minute you give him the go ahead it’s like unleashing an entirely new person.
1 for no specific reason <3
there are actually two answers to this: one is an original piece and the other is a fic. i'm gonna talk abt both, but separate them into two posts. in the reblog, i'll talk abt the fic. for now, i'm gonna start with the original piece, titled "contradictions."
the entire poem (poem? prose? some word that starts with a p) is very disjointed, narratively speaking. it honestly reads like the frantic thoughts of someone mid-panic attack. the only real thing that connects every paragraph are the bible verses.
thou shalt love thy god with all thy heart; god created man in his image; an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth; i will not let you go unless you bless me!; i will not let you be lost or forgotten; and do not be afraid, for i am with you always.
they come up in sunday school, baptism, in the whispered and usually fraught discussions of faith the narrator has with their mother. at first, these verses are very dear to the narrator. it's god! how could it not be? god, who their mother talks about with such singular adoration. god, who you should love above all things--that isn't so bad. after all, god loves you above all others, too. it's only fair.
but that's the thing, isn't it? an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. you are alive because i will it, god says. it's very transactional! and the narrator starts to hit that age where this conditional love is the opposite of comforting. you're a sinner. you're guilty. how can a moral criminal ever be loved by a perfect god if they don't worship the latter? grace grants you the privilege of love. hence, i will not let you go unless you bless me!
even worse, that love does not protect you of all things. i will not let you be lost or forgotten. but you can still be taken advantage of (in the poem, the narrator is raped--by what is implied to be a member of the church--and relates it to jesus' crucifixion in a frantic attempt to make sense of what happened.) is this martyrdom? i thought the church was meant to protect me. but the institution of catholicism was never meant to protect you. to borrow a phrase, (the church's) god loves you, but not enough to save you.
it's a cycle! this trauma of faith. it is passed onto you generation to generation. a trauma that stretches all the way back to eve. do not be afraid, for i am with you always.
the narrator's life is completely reshaped by this, put into an entirely different perspective. all those years ago, their mother took them to be baptized on the same altar she was married on. she said prayers over them afterward. the mother wanted a servant of god, one who would be loved and cherished and ascend on judgment's day.
but that doesn't happen.
i’ve grown wary of mothers since mine said the idea of me in her head (so lovely, so holy) is hard to reconcile with the real thing. on sundays, she takes me to the altar she grew up on, murmuring every blessing and prayer she knows, saying, thou shalt love thy lost eye, thy forgotten tooth. then she slits my throat, gathers the arterial spray into a golden bowl, and says she’s sorry, baby, she’s so, so sorry, as she pours it over the altar.
class, what is our lord’s great and first commandment? be afraid, for i made you in my image.
the only way for a failed catholic to be redeemed is to be martyred in some way. pain and suffering brings you closer to the lord. so the narrator is sacrificed in the very place where it all began, blood poured onto the altar to be consumed by the church. sacrificed by a devastated but unwavering mother. you can't escape god (be afraid, for i made you in my image.) how could you? god is your mother.
the crucified christ on my rosary says, i will not let you go, for i am with you always. and he is. he’s in the bathroom mirror, both of us looking at where we bloom red, and he promises me he can kiss it away.
god is the suffering. god is you.
EVEN MORE SCHLATT HEADCANONS: MULTIVERSE/REVIVE BOOK ORIGINS EDITION
Schlatt is just the second-to-latest (the latest being Tubbo) in a line of mystic beings spanning all the way back to the beginning of modern man. This line connects multiple SMPs, the Slimecicle Universe, etc., and explains the origins of certain characters. I will only be going over the Schlatts we know of, no made-up Schlatts as of yet unless you want more of this funky little AU that explains things.
The first in the line was Schlatt from Minecraft but every 5 minutes there’s a natural disaster, who I’ve decided to call Jarilo to not get confused by calling them all Schlatt. I imagine him as a god of weather, nature, the harvest, and general health in the same pantheon as Kristin or Dream XD. Unlike any other gods you may think of with those skills, he uses them maliciously for his own amusement. Drought, tornadoes, plagues, you name it, he causes it pretty regularly in localized areas all for shits and giggles. He started the line by basically being Zeus once and having a kid with a mortal. Knowing his kin would most likely have power in their veins for eons to come he created what we now know as the Revive Book to allow everyone else to know what they’re capable of, and we all know how well that went. He slowly faded out of public awareness, being worshiped by only a small few and not even Philza or Technoblade knowing he even exists. Slimecicle knows of him vaguely and has funny feelings whenever he looks at DSMP Schlatt’s photos and whatnot, but could never really place a name or why he remembers him. Despite this, Jarilo still lives on-as gods tend to do-watching over his kin and everyone else but lying dormant in his more destructive behaviour. But those who remember him know that he waits above for the moment to bring his wrath upon the world once more.
The second one I’m gonna mention is Fragrance Man, or Father Fragrance as I prefer to call him. For the sake of my keyboard though I’ve named him Jeriko. I imagine him being a sort of middle between Jarilo and Schlatt as we know him in terms of ancestry, the Origins SMP as a whole taking place sometime in the late 1500s. He followed a religion that still worshiped the entire pantheon (Prime, XD, Kristin, and Jarilo) but a driving factor in his dare I say character is the fact that those with Origin species were looked down upon and proclaimed to be sinful. Because of this, he was driven to the area in which everyone in the SMP calls spawn. He was enticed by a celebration occurring in the Pub(e) and when he checked it out he saw people like him just existing and having a good time. He made himself known by performing “miracles” in his church and creating a form of his religion that was fully accepting of other Origins. Little did he know that his “miracles” were simply inherited untapped potential from his unknowing kinship to the god he worshipped.
The last one I will briefly touch on is DSMP Schlatt. I imagine his first name would be Jonathan but I'm not gonna use it this time, I just wanted continuity. I'm not gonna go over much since we already know as much about him as we need for this but there are a few things. Schlatt gave Dream the Revive Book because enough time had gone by to where he has no knowledge of his power. All he knows is it was a family heirloom and he didn't know what it did so instead of just using it as a paperweight he gave it way. This doesn't mean he can't use it, he just doesn't know how because no one had since a few generations after Jeriko. Tubbo can also use it but it's not likely he ever would.
That's about it lol. Lmk if you want more. Sorry for the long post I'm hyperfixating again.
I found an old word document where I stuffed my favourite answers under my uquiz question "if you want, add what's your opinion about the mage rights movement & revolution" (to this quiz) and why not post them here so we can all scream mage rights together. if u are any of these people, i love you
The Templar Order is corrupt and does more to encourage Mages to resort to extremist methods than it does anything else. Locking people away and teaching them to have an intrinsic fear of something they were born with is so inherently wrong. Magic is just as dangerous as a man with a sword. Teaching fear will only build prejudice and self-hatred, leading mages to turning to demons. Whilst there are some mages who would use their power to seek authority, the same can be said for anyone who has a big army and a fancy sword to match. Mages need an environment where they can learn safely without being torn from their homes and treated like abominations from the get go. Thedas’ entire concept of Mages (with the exclusion of Tevinter) is based on historical prejudice for a time that no longer exists but this prejudice leads Mages into radicalism- such as domestic terrorism or blood magic. If Mages were treated fairly then there would be less mages turning to darker arts. Furthermore Ander’s was completely justified; Elthina was complacent in the abuse of the mages which then led to larger scale crimes and the Chantry as a whole is guilty of the same problem. The compromise between Meridith and Orsino wouldn’t have worked- what Ander’s did was an unfortunate necessity that stemmed from the incompetence of the Templar order and the Chantry as a whole
mage rights or mage fights. anders was right
mage rights (im gay)
if i see a templar its on sight
cullen is shit and anders was right the templar order can get stuffed
I think there should be a codex entry which is a literature review summarising the data on Possessed-Mage-Related Incidents. anyway, Mage Rights Now™, what do you mean it's a complex issue and there are genuinely some safety concerns. Mage Rights Now.
im too lazy to type down my proper opinion in detail so im just gonna: [children yelling: mage rights! mage rights!]
The mage rights movement and revolution both have my full support, as templars and the Chantry are corrupt and nothing will change if they continue to be allowed to treat mages the way they do.
im a mlm (mage loving mage), also fuck da templars
personally i hate the chantry as it functioned prior to the revolution, i dont think any group of people deserves to be oppressed in such a way, especially not by a theocracy driven by fear. mage rights or mage fights! anders did what needed to be done, and the whole "but he blew up a CHURCH" thing is just wrong imo, the kirkwall chantry was never a simple place of worship, it was a sign of the chantry's power and authority in kirkwall (golden statues anyone? the money they're worth could be put to so much good use, but nooope), a political symbol, and i dont believe anders hurt innocents bc 1. we dont really see innocent worshippers in the chantry at any point bc its not that kind of establishment, and 2. he blew it up at night, that one sister got away with m u r d e r in there at night. anders tried peace and nothing happened; destroying such a symbol made the impact that was needed to spark a wave of change. sorry i just feel veryyy strongly about this matter i dont mean to sound hostile ?
i'm a pacifist and would prefer things not resorted to violence, but the mages have been oppressed for centuries and have none of the rights non-mages do. they're locked up in towers and hunted down if they manage to escape. that's cruel and vile and outright inhumane. furthermore, the people in power have made it clear that they don't care nor will they do jackshit about it. the way things are the situation can't be solved through diplomatic means, no matter how much i would like it to, and therefore i'm in favor of forcing change. though, no blood should be spilled unless absolutely necessary. no one deserves to die, no matter who they are or what they've done. justice shouldn't be confused with revenge.
mage rights baybie!!!!!! education and destigmatization is the best way to combat possession & blood magic, not imprisonment (as it is, people are too scared to come forward about their powers which causes ignorance which leaves them even more vulnerable to possession. if people weren't AFRAID of circles that would happen MUCH LESS)
anders did domestic terrorism and that was really sexy of him
mage rights babeyy. i project too hard as a neurodivergent gay ex-catholic (thus, apostate)
Mage rights! Make the circle a school rather than a fucking prison, and separate the chantry from it
Mages deserve their own rights and the revolution is absolutely justified
Anders was (and still is) right, fuck the chantry
Basically, anders was right but the man can't do everything himself. They need to organize and obtain thing without violence. Violance was necessary just to start but can't be forever
Anders was right and I will not forgive the DAI writers for making hawke talk about him like he wasn't. No more circles.
templars/the chantry = trash. burn it all down.
Golden Kamuy - Kikuta deserved better - 273-276
As I catch up on things, I’m gonna hit the highlights that really stuck with me. Ogata is able to escape from Vasily using the tactics he observed from the showdown in Barato with Hijikata cutting through random row houses. He’s seriously gotten into Vasily’s head as he hesitated to snipe aggressively after killing the wrong guy with Ogata’s cloak.
The only worthwhile thing from this continued and seriously a no longer interesting plot point, is getting to see Ogata wiggle under a fence like a cat.
So, I approve of this at least. My own cat scores this as an 8/10 in cat wiggling. Minus 2 points for not enough emotion from Ogata’s face.
Thankfully, Asirpa was able to escape with Sofia after Tsukishima gunned down Ariko. It seemed to me that Koito froze/hesitated during that situation. Tsukishima had no problem brutally shooting Ariko at point blank while Koito literally just hung back and watched.
Asirpa is in a state of extreme shock. She just interrogated by Tsurumi to give up the code, watched Ariko be shot and now sees Boutarou’s corpse in the bottle-mobile. Our girl needs years of therapy - she’s reaching the same level as our male cast members at this rate.
At least she breaks down in tears as Sugimoto tries to console her. The artwork for this part of the page is excellent, it really does capture the melting of her mind and how she’s realizing how deadly the gold is.
It ties directly back to her argument with Kikuta before all this shit went down. I’m always giving Sugimoto crap for being a moron, but it seems that he did make the right action by reaching out to allow her to hug his arm. There is that soft look as he gazes down at her and just lets her be emotional. It is clear that his presence is a comfort to her as she takes her time before returning to a more lucid mental state. This is shown by how she opens her eyes and looks up before declaring that they need to meet up with Hijikata since she’s figured out how to crack the code.
Meanwhile, Kikuta rushed Ariko to a clinic to save his life. Being the father figure/older brother he is, he tells him that it isn’t his time to die; he never made that makiri yet! And to my relief, Ariko wakes up! Noda didn’t go for the lazy writing of killing of the minor Ainu character, something I was afraid of.
If his father saved him, it means his makiri was where he was shot in the chest under his uniform. There is a lovely transition about a makiri in a fictional museum that was made by him, implying that he returned home and did make the makiri and likely resolved some of his identity issues, though it was still likely a tough life for him. Ariko apologies for not being able to work as a spy for Central and really it isn’t like he’d be able to do so anyways. But he did verbally point out he’s now politically on the side of someone like Asirpa to fight for their culture and right to exist in spite of colonial powers.
The middle panel of Kikuta bidding him farewell just gives me the feels. It is so clear that Kikuta knows he’s toast. He saw Tsukishima shoot Ariko and Tsukishima likely watched him as he tried to save the man.
The fact that he said a casual line about going to an onsen. Ugh, death flag for sure right there. It seems Ariko knows that as he looks forlorn. Kikuta is that sort of suave man who is going to look cool even though he’s doomed; he’s that awesome.
The action returns to Tsurumi at the church having solved the code. With Tsukishima gone off to try to kill Ariko, Koito has remained behind. All of a sudden Koito reverts to his extreme Satsuma accent when addressing Tsurumi in the absence of Tsukishima. I think he didn’t even realize it at first, just like how after they escaped the fight with Boutarou, Koito spoke normally to Tsurumi without realizing it.
It is clear it took him a moment to realize he was speaking ‘Koito’ as Tsurumi is unable to respond to him and he then panics. Koito is more than willing to chase after Tsukishima and support him, but Tsurumi instead recalls him.
At first he consoles himself that everything is okay.
He is trying very hard to convince himself that everything that they witnessed through the keyhole was all an act to get the key! Yes, it isn’t that Tsurumi doesn’t have some sort of awesome goal and this isn’t about how the death of his wife and daughter left him unhinged!
But the other random members of the 27th then comment on how strongly Nikaido reeks of beer . . . and Koito then thinks about how he and Tsukishima were hiding in the room at the church when Tsurumi ‘checked’ that he was alone. And then it hits him - they were also played as a part of the ‘Tsurumi theatre’. Unlike Tsukishima who has whole-heartily given himself over to Tsurumi, it is clear that Koito can’t.
That monologue sounded too good to be true. He weakly says Tsukishima’s name into the rain as he then thinks ‘No . . .’ The rain is really fitting in this scene, I think it really is a stand in for Koito’s own disappointment and tears in this entire crazy quest for the gold. Is he worried about his ‘older’ brother figure? Himself? Both of them?
He continues to try to rationalize the performance that Tsurumi gave them - even if Tsurumi lied to them, it wasn’t all a lie. Oh Koito. I want to give you a hug and pull you away as your little bon-bon-ness has won me over. Most of that speech wasn’t for Koito, it was for Tsukishima. Speaking about helping Japan is what Koito would like to hear but we can tell he doubts that as well. Hence, his waffling.
But then he realizes that as Tsukishima has given so much - all of Tsurumi’s words, even if they were ‘sweet lies’ as he he referred to them on Karafuto, it was just perfect for Tsukishima. However, Koito has broken the spell that Tsurumi held over him. The final page of the chapter of Koito looking at the illuminated Tsurumi and shutting the door on him. It is the exact opposite of when Tsurumi rescued Koito from the kidnappers when in his youth.
I now find myself wondering how this relates to the tiger curse. It is clear that the curse for Tsukishima will not end well. After he shot Ariko, his eyes regained their sparkle! Not good, not good at all! However, have I misinterpreted it for Koito that by becoming disillusioned with Tsurumi he will be cursed to be miserable through him gaining independence from his hero worship of Tsurumi? The idea that ignorance is bliss, and now Koito is well in the know. The fact that when he and Tsukishima were sort of on the same page was when he could speak to Tsurumi but now that he’s on a different path from Tsukishima he’s tripped up again.
Chapter 274 finally allows Asirpa to determine the fake skins after what she witnessed with Boutarou in the brewery and thinking about Ainu garments that she figured out that Edogai likely went above and beyond with his fakes. Thanks money counterfeiting guy from the fake Ainu village for the inspiration. It is a lot of pages that tie together other plot points nicely but really doesn’t do anything for me as a reader personally.
The most important point is that as Sugimoto falls asleep while Asirpa and Hijikata work with the skins is that we get another flashback - one that links him to Kikuta!
and even more importantly - Hanazawa Yuusaku!
Chapter 275 starts out with an homage to the classic movie ‘Singing in the Rain’. As soon as I saw Sugimoto spinning on a lamp post, it was obvious. Yes, small town boy in the big city - causing trouble. He gets in some sort of brawl with random guys from the army and is ‘rescued’ by Kikuta, who immediately realizes that he’s hungry and decides to treat him to some lunch.
It shows that Sugimoto has a short fuse and is an impulsive youngster. Really, he is lucky that he didn’t do more stupid shit to get him in trouble. We can also clearly see that Kikuta is a member of the 1st Division, the Tokyo based one that Sugimoto eventually enlists with.
Kikuta decides that he wants Sugimoto to impersonate Hanazawa Yuusaku and to go on a marriage interview for him. This is because Hanazawa Hiro, the now identified wife of Hanazawa, is pulling the strings in the background to prevent Yuusaku from becoming a flag bearer.
This then makes us wonder why these two parents have such contrasting expectations for their only son. It makes me think back to my theory that Yuusaku was a pretty poor solider and lacked any skill or potential. Long ago, Tsurumi told Nikaido that Ogata is the ‘true heir’ of Hanazawa inheriting his military and [some] leadership skills as he stood on the watch tower in Barato ordering the random gangsters how to fight effectively. Yuusaku is a disappointment for Hanazawa - he can only save face by having his son become such a symbolic part of the army.
I laughed at the next page where Kikuta confirms that Hiro is colluding with the young heiress to steal Yuusaku’s virginity and thus preventing him from becoming a flag bearer. I love the posture of the terrified Yuusaku!
However, Hiro’s plan has been found out by Hanazawa and he consulted with the leader of the 1st Division to assist him with resolving this unpatriotic and embarrassing issue. Recall that Ogata was born as a result of Hanazawa being posted to Tokyo - this implies that he likely became good friends with the leader of the 1st Division during this time.
To prevent anyone from identifying Sugimoto, he’s the perfect substitute for Yuusaku and changes into Kikuta’s uniform. He’s one of those guys who just has that look. Sugimoto immediately thinks that since he’s been treated well by Kikuta, joining the military might be a good way to find security - in food. However, we get a link of the cap to Kikuta and what appears to be his dying younger brother.
Kikuta looks so sad, like there is something unfortunate with Sugimoto’s statement of food. We don’t get to see his expression, indicating he’s likely hiding his emotions from Sugimoto and instead tells Sugimoto he’s going to have to train him in food etiquette.
He’s presented with some Western cuisine, something that may blow his cover and something that Kikuta didn’t expect as he watches from a tree outside. But again, due to his extreme luck, he’s able to use nervousness as an excuse and it gives him time to state his family his super traditional so they wouldn’t have eaten food like this. When he’s removed the cap, Kaneko Kaeko is smitten with his handsome face. He can use his excuse as a way to have an out for not knowing how to eat that tasty ebi fry (why to I hear ‘ebi fry’ in Nyanko-sensei’s voice?).
As she explains the fancy places she’s dined at, Sugimoto thinks about how he was living off of cat food. Cue another reason why he just hates on Ogata, since he was stealing food from Ogata’s people!
The rest of the dinner goes well, and Kikuta checks in with him. Meanwhile, our wealthy heiress is completely smitten with him!
As Sugimoto mulls over the idea of a somewhat arranged marriage as a negative he spills the beans about Toraji and Umeko. And Kikuta isn’t having any of his bullshit. I love how Kikuta points out how selfish and downright stupid Sugimoto is being in all of this. Kikuta gives Sugimoto good advice - which he’s clearly still never followed.
He makes it clear that he’s got to give up on that hometown and move on. Which will be completely ignored as Toraji will end up in the 1st Division with Sugimoto in the trenches. I’m now wondering how Toraji and Sugimoto reconnected. Hrrrmmmmm? Is this something that Sugimoto encouraged and that’s why he has all of these unresolved emotions about Toraji’s death in the war?
The chapter reveals to us that Tsukishima’s love ended up marrying the cousin of Kaeko, making Tsukishima’s acceptance of her ‘death’ even more heartbreaking as he thought that Tsurumi had lied to him about her fate. [weeps bitterly].
As Kikuta and Sugimoto discuss what appears to be Yuusaku’s lack of a free will, he’s told not to meddle in others concerns. What does Sugimoto do? The man just can’t keep to himself and he goes and finds Yuusaku to confront him. He wants to know if Yuusaku wants to be a flag bearer even though it is a death sentence. How does that conversation go? Just how we’d expect with all of the information we know about Yuusaku.
I love how he’s like it isn’t to meet my father’s expectations! It is because understand my father’s convictions and fight for my country. Okay, you keep telling yourself that Yuusaku, but it still sounds like you are doing this for your father, you know tomay-to, tomah-to. Sugimoto mulls over what Yuusaku would choose if given the choice. I just sigh as we know enough about Yuusaku’s backstory that the man only does what his father says - with great conviction.
All of our Ogata flashbacks have made this so clear, Yuusaku is a doomed man from the moment he entered the army. Maybe even a doomed man from his birth even. Perhaps, he’s acutely aware of this, but based on how freakkin’ awkward he’s with Ogata and his older brother actions, I continue to think he’s not the brightest bulb in the pack and can only be used as a patriotic pawn.
Yuusaku then becomes suspicious of Sugimoto’s line of inquiry and realizes that he’s got Kikuta’s cap.
Not sure how to respond, he runs away and we learn that Kikuta’s younger brother died of illness during the first Sino-Japanese war. That same war that killed Koito’s older brother and that Tsurumi and Tsukishima fought in as well.
With the statement of illness, I know what most likely killed Kikuta’s younger brother - malnutrition - specifically beri beri. As the Japanese military rapidly modernized using European models, they ran into an issue with many soldiers and sailors dying of some sort of mysterious illness and it wasn’t something that impacted the Westerners at all. Most of this has to do with the ability to eat white rice which was much more processed. It made it more expensive, but was nutritionally bad for men who came from lower incomes or poverty. Remember how stoked Asirpa was when she ate white rice all the way back at the herring fishery? If anyone has read “House of Five Leaves” by Natsume Ono, you’d know the protagonist is a poor ronin and he falls ill due to beri beri. The solution was to return to the countryside/hometown to eat a more diverse diet. For a more detailed explanation of how bad this was for the Japanese military check out the video by Linfamy on youtube here.
The video even highlights the fierce (and counterproductive) competition between the Army and Navy which has already been well defined through Koito’s backstory.
The chapter ends with Sugimoto dropping the cap and the polite man who picks it up for him is Tsurumi with Ogata, Usami and Tsukishima in Tokyo.
The plot thickens . . . somehow Sugimoto got mixed up in the business of the 27th and apparently Tokyo isn’t a vast city that you can get lost in and everyone knows everyone. Like how I was on flight to Saskatoon and the man next to me started up a conversation how he was from Burlington and went to Guelph and my friend who I was going to visit was also from Burlington and went to Guelph it is a small world kinda moment and in agriculture. I digress though. Things are starting to pull back together but I’m still not 100% on with this plot direction/story arc.
Author’s Note: This is part Twenty-six of The Best Laid Plans series
Summary: Y/n is living life without marks and without alpha influence...but the End is nigh...sacrifices must be made.
Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader, mentions of Alpha!Dean x Omega!Lisa
Word count: 3583
Story Warnings: angst...A/B/O dynamics, canon divergence, mentions of physical violence against the reader, canon major character deaths and resurrections
"So, where are we this week, girl? Hawaii, Puerto Rico?" Bobby asked and you smiled, looking around the dirty Canadian dive bar.
"Santo Domingo. Gotta love the Dominican," you lied.
"Where you really?"
You took a drink of your beer and picked at the peeling vinyl of the table top. "Saskatoon. Cursed church bell, drives people to suicide when they hear it."
"Nah. I've got this. Just need to convince the vicar to let me melt down a bell that's been part of their church since the 1800s. No big deal." You sighed and scratched at your turtleneck. "How are they?"
"Thought you didn't wanna know about them, Y/n."
"Didn't want to be attached to them. Not the same thing."
Bobby sighed. "They took a trip through Heaven a few days ago...got a message from the big man Himself."
"God? They talked to God?" you asked, eyes wide.
"Talked to someone talks to God...and God said they're on their own."
"Sounds like God...handle it yourself but worship me for 'guiding' you." You rolled your eyes. "Sam isn't taking that well, is he?"
"Dean's taking it worse."
"What? Dean doesn't care about God."
"Think it's more that God was the last hope and He ain't playin'. What are we even supposed to do now, right?"
"Right." A hopeless Dean Winchester was a problem. No telling what he might do. “I’m sure everything will work out. If God isn’t worried, then I guess we shouldn’t worry.”
"Well, I hope you're right, Y/n." You nodded. You were hoping the same. "I'll call next time we got something new."
"Okay. Good luck, Bobby."
You slid your phone into your pocket and took a drink of your beer. Things would be fine...or they wouldn't. Only time could tell.
You didn't answer when the call came in from Dean's number. You didn't answer five minutes later when the call came in from Dean's other number. You pulled off into a gas station when your phone dinged with a voicemail message.
"Shoulda known you wouldn't answer...but I really wanted to hear your voice, Y/n. Guess your outgoing message will have to do." He cleared his throat. "I've been thinking about you since you left. Nothing is ever right when you're gone. I think you need to know that. I know why you left. I know I was never really good at being with you. I didn't give you a reason to stay. I should have. But you...you had to leave. You had to make that hard decision and I love you for that. Nobody wanted you to make that decision, to free us, but it was the right choice and I love that you made it. I love you for calling me out on my bullshit. You always did that for me." He sniffled and you could imagine him wiping at his eyes. "And you always kept tryin', even though I pushed you away all the time. You should have given up on me a long time ago and you didn't. I love you, Y/n. I should have said it a long time ago...but more I should have showed you. I should have showed you."
You wiped at your eyes and bit your bottom lip. "I really hope you got to see the world, but if you're on the home continent…stay away from the Midwest. I don't know how big the fight's gonna get."
"Oh, God. Dean, what are you doing?" you whispered as you clicked out of your voicemail to call him back. He didn't answer. "Damn it, Winchester!" You called his other cell, but still didn't get an answer. So you called John's cell. "Where’s Dean?"
John sighed. "Indiana. He's on the goodbye tour."
You rolled your eyes. Indiana meant Lisa. Of course. "He's going to say 'yes', isn't he? After everything, he's going to give up?"
"We aren't going to let him. Sam, Castiel, and I are on our way to stop him."
"You better. He does not get to give up."
"We won't let him," John promised.
"We've got an angel on our side, remember? And Castiel really isn't happy about Dean throwing away his sacrifice. We'll keep him safe."
You let out a sigh of relief and nodded. "Let me know if anything bad-"
"Don't worry. We're gonna take care of him."
"Thank you, John."
"Maybe you should call him, though."
"I tried," you responded. "He didn't answer." You shook your head. "It's fine. Get his head on straight. It'll be okay."
"Right. It'll be okay."
"Bye, John." You hung up and set the phone on the passenger seat. You looked up at the sky through your windshield. "I know you don't care about what your angels are doing, but please don't let Dean say 'yes'. Please. I don't ask for a lot but please give me this."
"You should come to Detroit." Bobby's words didn't seem worried. Everything about the tone said it was past time to worry.
"Sam said 'yes' and-"
"It was supposed to be the end of it, Y/n. He was supposed to get control back from Lucifer and jump into the Cage. It was a good plan. Dean and John even approved it, much as they could, ya know, and it-"
"He really thought he was gonna get control from the Devil? Of course it didn't work!" You ran your hand down your face and dug your fingers into your collarbone through your shirt. "So Lucifer has his perfect vessel...what about Michael? Dean didn’t…"
"No, but John's other son did. Heaven brought Adam back from the dead."
"That was nice of 'em. The dumbass said 'yes' because of course he did. So...the fight is...is happening."
"Yeah." He waited a moment. "Come to Detroit."
You sighed. The End. The end of the fight. The end of trying to stop it. The end of the End. "I'm on my way, Bobby."
There was a dark cloud over the city when you pulled the Firebird in next to the Impala in the alleyway outside their hotel. You could feel the hopelessness in the air as you opened the door Bobby indicated in an earlier text and walked in. Dean's eyes raised to meet yours as Bobby rushed to you and wrapped you in a hug. You dropped your duffel and wrapped the redneck in your arms, happy to see him up out of the wheelchair.
"Since when do you walk again?"
"Oh." He looked down at his body as he stepped back. "Demon deal. Added perk. It's a long story."
"Family tradition, those demon deals. At least you got something good out of it."
"Fer a few days."
You patted his shoulder and smiled. "Comes down to it, all we got is a few days at a time."
Dean stood and stepped toward the doorway. "Hey."
"Hey. I'm sorry...about Sam. I know you were all hoping-"
Dean opened his arms but didn't hug you. He waited for you to step into the embrace, green eyes shining with unshed tears as he waited for you to make your choice. There wasn’t a big choice there. Hold a grudge...or hold the man you love. You stepped into him and wrapped your arms around his chest. His arms closed around you and you felt warmth and anguish in the way he held you. There was pain in his scent, anger and hopelessness, but there was a little niggle of comfort as he pressed his lips to your forehead.
There wasn’t a lot said. It was the first time it really felt like a last night on earth. Even the Angel seemed to recognize that things were done. The fight was over. Everything was about to be over.
“I want you to know,” Dean whispered as the sun started going down.
“I know,” you answered. You knew what he would say. It held different significance on a night like that one.
“No. You don’t. You really don’t know...I’ve apologized for pushin’ you away, Y/n, but I need you to know...I thought I was doing the right thing for you. I love you.”
“Dean. I know. Shhh.”
“You’re everything I ever wanted.”
“Everything you ever wanted Sam to have,” you corrected. “Now, shush.” The silence lasted for a few minutes before Dean left, saying he needed some air.
“We did everything right and it doesn’t even matter in the end,” John said, staring at the ceiling.
“Nah. We didn’t do everything right...and it does matter. What we do is more important than anything.” You sighed and leaned forward, resting your head on your knees. “I should have gone to Thailand.”
“Don’t you want to be here with us in your last moments?” Bobby asked.
“Yeah. But I wish these weren’t the last moments.”
Castiel nodded in agreement, before standing. “We should go down...Dean is-”
“Leaving,” you guessed, rushing down to the alleyway without waiting for the others, approaching as he looked in the trunk of the Impala. “Dean?”
“You goin’ someplace?” Bobby asked. “You’re goin’ to do somethin’ stupid. You got that look.”
“I’m gonna go talk to Sam,” Dean answered, heading for the driver’s door.
“You just don’t give up,” Bobby chastised.
“If you couldn’t reach him here, you’re certainly not going to be able to on the battlefield,” Castiel tried.
“Well, if we’ve already lost, I guess I got nothing to lose, right?” Dean reasoned.
“Boy, this is a bad idea. I don’t wanna lose both of you,” John said.
Dean shook his head. “Too late.”
“I just want you to understand...the only thing that you’re gonna see out there is Michael killing your brother,” Castiel said.
“Well, then I ain’t gonna let him die alone.”
You watched Dean drive away, knowing that he was on his way to his death. “Fuck. We should follow him, right?”
“No. We need to figure out how to even up the chances a little,” John offered. “Hail Mary brainstorm session. Come on. Let’s do this.”
“So...we’re all gonna die,” you said, looking around the room. “We are going to this fight...the fight...to pull distraction long enough for Dean to maybe get through to Sam long enough for Sam to sacrifice himself and throw himself and Lucifer into the Cage. We’re going to die.”
Everyone took deep breaths and nodded. “It’s our only shot,” Bobby said. “For the whole planet, Dean is our only shot.”
“And like the boy said...if we’ve already lost, what do we have to lose?” John said.
"Might as well go down doing something potentially beneficial,” you whispered. “Okay...let’s do this.”
Castiel teleported you to Stull Cemetery just in time to hear Dean tell Michael that he needed five minutes with Lucifer. “Hey, assbutt!” Cas called out, holding up his Molotov cocktail of Holy Fire. The bottle exploded as it hit Michael and he went up in flames. The Angel didn’t last long after that. Lucifer didn’t appreciate the Angel from the lower choir ‘dick’ing with Michael. Castiel exploded into blood and chunks of Angel.
Dean demanded Sam’s attention, but only Lucifer could hear. He grabbed Dean, intent to beat him to death, but Bobby shot at the Archangel, which earned him a snapped neck. John launched himself at Lucifer next and he was thrown across the cemetery, hitting a large stone angel statue. Michael reappeared as Lucifer was beating Dean’s face in with Sam’s fists. You grabbed Adam’s jacket, trying to keep Michael from stopping the altercation. Dean was getting through. You could see it in the hesitation on Sam’s face. You couldn’t let Michael stop it.
“You stupid fucking monkey!” Michael growled, wrapping Adam’s hand around your throat. You sputtered and kicked as he clenched his fist around your neck, cutting off your air. The sound your hyoid made when your throat was crushed like a soda can followed you into the darkness.
So did the sound of crickets. But that wasn’t right. There shouldn’t be crickets in Heaven.
Your eyes blinked open slowly, a sky full of stars greeting you before being filled in by the vision of hazel eyes and a smile. “John? Why are you in my Heaven?”
“Not Heaven, kid. We’re alive, Y/n. Castiel brought us back.” He offered you his hand and you sat up, allowing him to pull you to your feet.
“Who brought Cas back?” you asked. “Because didn’t Lucifer blow him to shit?”
“Yeah. Can only assume God brought him back, just like last time he was blown up by an Archangel.”
“Well, that’s...very nice of God considering that he...didn’t want to help.” John nodded, but he seemed distracted as he let his fingers move to encircle your wrist. “What’s wrong?”
“You...smell really good,” he whispered, his cheeks going pink. “I should…” He cleared his throat and stepped back away from you. “Think everything got renewed.”
You reached up and gingerly touched the area where your concave scars were. You were met with plush, plump skin under the fabric of your turtleneck. When you pulled the shirt away from your neck, you were met with completely smooth skin. No marks, no scars. Pristine.
"Omega again." John licked his lips and stepped further back. “Unmarked, pure omega.”
“I’m...this is insane. I can’t believe he just...made me...a normal omega again.”
John nodded and cleared his throat. “I think it’s a real good thing, don’t you?”
You nodded and smiled. “I think it’s an amazing thing.”
“Why don’t we go ahead and see if we can find Dean.”
You smiled a bit sadly. “I know where Dean is.”
Watching Dean through the front window of Lisa Braeden’s Cicero home made your heart crack. The pain was immense, a longing taking up residence in your chest as you watched Dean hold her, his nose buried in the crook of her neck. Scenting her...his omega.
“You could knock,” John suggested, shoving his hands in his jean pockets. You were sure he was trying to keep from physically comforting you. As much as you wanted the comfort, you appreciated John trying to keep his distance more. “You know he’d be happy to see you alive.”
You shook your head. “No. He’s dreamed of this, John. He dreams of her.” You clutched at your shirt collar. You'd changed into a v-neck on the way to Indiana, excited to show Dean but you knew now that it didn't matter. "He deserves her...and the kid...and any kids she might give him of his own. He deserves to be happy. Let's just...let's go."
"Are you sure?" John asked as you turned away.
"My car is in Detroit. Let's go."
You stared out the window as John drove. It was a blow but not one you couldn't overcome. Dean wasn't ever going to be yours and it was best for you to recognize that and move forward. You were a brand new omega. No marks, no scars from cutting the old marks out. No Dean. No Sam. John, well, he was being nice now but it was going to be best for you to stay away from him, too. You would do best by yourself just like you had since you cut your marks out. You were better alone.
"Don't leave yet," John said as he pulled the stolen car in beside your Pontiac. "You should get some sleep. Get a room, get some rest. Don't drive on this."
You reached over and set your hand on his cheek. "Underneath it all, you're a good man, John. I really appreciate it when you let that man out for me." You swiped your thumb across his cheekbone and smiled. "I'll get a room...but not here. Detroit is not a good place...it's where we lost Sam. Get some rest yourself, though."
"You've got my number. If you ever need anything, Y/n, I'll be there."
You nodded and smiled tightly. "I'll try not to need anything." You got out of the car and headed for yours. Maybe you'd actually travel the world this time. Maybe you'd just hunt the same as always. But you were going to try to not need a damn thing.
You drove out of Detroit and headed South, not stopping until your eyes began to vibrate with lack of sleep. You pulled over into a rest stop and turned off the car, lying the seat back and curling up on your side, waiting for sleep to take you.
Dean would be happy. That was the important thing. Dean was going to be happy with his normal life and you could be happy saving lives...without an alpha. Without anyone. Just you and the road and a good hunt...until you died.
You dreamed of Dean. You dreamed of taking Lisa's place in the normal life...so that you could be what Dean deserved. But even in your dream, Dean made excuses. "I love you...but I can't mark you." "I love you but I can't be with you." "I love you but…"
You blinked your eyes open a few hours later and gasped to see a figure in your passenger seat. You sat up and stared wide-eyed at Sam. "Am I still asleep?"
"Well, I'm not Dean so I'm guessing you're awake."
You ignored the gut shot about Dean and reached into the back, quickly splashing holy water on him and waiting for the sizzle that never came. You pulled your silver knife next and Sam dutifully offered his hand. "Why do you idiots always go for the most nerve-heavy extremity when getting cut? Take the jacket off and give me your bicep or roll your damn pant leg up, you jerk," you snapped. Sam just smirked as he pulled his jacket and flannel off. You were really expecting him to burn with the silver but he didn’t...and moreover, he smelled like Sam. He was not a ghoul. You laughed as you dropped the knife in the center console. "How in the world did you get out of the Cage? I know how hard it is to get out of Hell, but you went into Lucifer’s Cage."
"Can't tell ya." Sam shook his head. "Just woke up in Stull Cemetery, went to check on Dean, saw you and Dad...decided to follow you."
"Why didn't you say something in Cicero?" you asked, analyzing Sam's face. He seemed off. Why would he follow you instead of talking to you and John? Talking to Dean?
"You were with Dad...and I could smell you from across the street, Y/n...I knew you came back all new and improved. Wanted to see what you would do about that. Turns out...nothing."
"You didn't tell Dean you're back?"
"Neither did you." Sam tilted his head and smirked. "He thinks we're both dead...and that means he's gonna stay in Cicero with Lisa. He's going to live a normal life with a normal woman. He's not going to die on some job before he reaches forty. He deserves that...and that's why neither of us knocked on that door."
"So, you're just gonna dive back into the work headfirst and...forget about Dean?"
"Forget? No. But I'm going to leave him the Hell alone. He left me alone at Stanford for years until Dad disappeared and Jess died. Don't you think he deserves the same treatment?"
You looked away and pulled your seat up straight. "Of course he does. He deserves everything.”
“So, we’re going to let him have it, right?”
You nodded. “Yeah.”
Sam reached out and set his hand on your knee. “And we can have what we deserve.”
You looked down at his hand, disgust filling you. “Remove it, or I will remove it for you.”
“Come on. You don’t really have a reason to deny me. Not with Dean with Lisa.”
You reached down and pulled his hand off of you. “Dean is not the reason I denied you, Sam. Why are we backtracking here? You seemed to understand this before.”
“We had fun before, didn’t we?” Sam asked.
“It doesn’t matter if we had fun...because the fun stopped mattering as soon as you marked me.” The discomfort you were feeling in his presence made you slip your hand under your seat and pick up your pistol. “You were going to rape me, Sam. That kinda ruins any future fun.”
“You would have liked it, Y/n. I wasn’t planning to hurt you too much.”
Having him admit to it so nonchalantly, with a smirk on his lips, filled you with an angry fear. He didn’t even seem to care. It was worse than when he was hopped up on demon blood. You pulled the pistol out and pointed it at Sam’s temple. “Get the fuck out of my car, Winchester.”
He chuckled and put his hands up. “I’ll see you when you get your panties out of that twist, Y/n.” He backed out of the car and turned, a bit of a skip in his step as he walked away. You hit the lock on your doors and turned the engine over. You’d have to do your best to avoid the resurrected Winchester...just like his father...just like his brother. Best to stay alone. Best to get away.
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Hey! I saw the anon post about Mobius and your great advice about it and i have something thats been going on my head for quite some time. Im a christian who absolutely loves Loki. Is that bad, considering he's a god of a totally different religion? ( Please pardon my grammar. English is not my first language.)
You have no idea how much I relate to your question, love! Buckle up, this is gonna be a long one.
Disclaimer: Bear in mind this is a very subjective opinion. It’s the conclusions I came to while doing my own research on the Norse Myths etc. and looking for answers to pretty much the same questions! ♥
So I was raised Christian myself but I firmly believe that there is more than one deity out there and that it’s okay to interact with them. It’s not that simple, and at the end of the day, it all comes down to what you believe in, not what other people (including the church) say you should believe in “or else”.
First of all, you love Loki. How can you not? He’s amazing! What’s important, of course, is that you differentiate between the actual Norse deity and the Marvel character. They have some things in common (and Loki loves Tom Hiddleston) but ultimately, they are not the same.
So let’s say you’ve done your research on the Norse Myths and you adore Loki but the bible tells you “thou shall not worship any other god before me”. Do you know who wrote that? Humans. To me, the Christian God has always been the embodiment of kindness, forgiveness and goodness. Do you truly believe that they will “punish” you or send you to hell because you take interest in another religion and/or other deities so as long as you treat them with respect equally and don’t put one above the other?
See, the concept of heaven and hell is Christian too. Satanists, for example, don’t actually believe in Satan. That’s Christians. Actually, if you look up the Satanic Temple’s fundamental tenets, you’ll find yourself agreeing with all of them if you’re a decent person but the concept of heaven and hell as we imagine it is merely a pictorial approach for life after death--something that the human brain cannot quite comprehend. Hell came from the Greek Myths anyways, from Hades, the God of the Underworld and when you do a little bit of research, you will realise that many traditions were stolen from paganism by Christians, including Christmas. The Vikings and the Christians battled each other to death because of their different beliefs, claiming they were worshipping (a) "false" god(s).
So what I’m trying to say is that at the end of the day, you will have to find your own truth. If you’re afraid of loving Loki because the Christian God might punish you, consider this: Does it hurt anybody or you when you worship Loki and/or other deities beside the Christian God? It doesn’t. So why would the Christian God not be okay with it? An argument I hear often is because they are “jealous”—because they love you so much they don’t want to share you with anyone. If the God described in the bible was a boyfriend, that would be quite the red flag (and apparently that was wrongly translated as well because it was supposed to be zealous).
Paganism existed way earlier than Christianity. And as I said earlier, the bible was written by humans and there have been many mistranslations over the decades (some of them deliberate too considering that according to some sources God was originally described as genderfluid). Hence, I realised at some point that there are many things in it that I personally disagree with (like homosexuality being a sin for example—another mistranslation, supposedly it originally said “thou shall not lay with a boy”, meaning, don’t assault children—I never read the whole bible and I was shocked when I found out that homosexuality is supposed to be a sin in it).
Trying to figure it all out for yourself gets tricky when you first move away from the traditional “black and white” thinking. There’s many shades of grey, there isn’t just good and evil and it’s okay to believe in some things and not in others so as long as you don’t harm anybody while doing so—that applies to pretty much all religions and rules. For example, some of my Muslim friends do not wear a Hijab, drink alcohol and don’t fast during Ramadan, others do. It’s completely up to you and your beliefs, what feels right to you. If you want to fast during lent if it feels like it brings you closer to God and you enjoy it or the discipline of it in a way, then do it, that’s wonderful! But if you want to fast only because you feel like you have to because “the bible says so” and because you fear being punished if you don’t, then don’t. The only thing that’s not okay is trying to force your belief on others. Life is too short to do things that make you feel bad or uncomfortable. Taking the example with lent or Ramadan again, if it makes you feel sad or worse to force yourself to fast, how could that possibly make God or Allah happy?
Furthermore, there are many people who don’t believe in gods at all, neither in angels, demons and ghosts nor life after death and former lives. And that’s okay too. Just be respectful about it because there isn’t just one truth and going on this journey where you discover spirituality beyond the bible is gonna be exciting, I promise.
You can practice more than one religion at once even if their premises appear to contradict themselves (monotheism vs. polytheism) once you figure out what it is you believe in, that does not mean you are “cherry picking” the fun things from every religion so as long as you are being respectful.
I hope that helped a little! ♥
I haven’t actually emotionally processed uh, any of what happened yesterday, so this is part emotionally processing and part explaining a LOT of context because this isn’t just something Grace Baldridge thought of doing this past week.
I think the easiest thing to start with is by explaining who Grace Baldridge is, and why the topic of affirmation in the Christian music industry even needs to be discussed.
In spring/summer 2020, Baldridge, in conjunction with Refinery29, released a series of YouTube videos, mostly looking at the intersection of Christianity with various topics, focusing on queer issues because, well, Baldridge is gay. I’m pretty sure they were recorded in late 2019-early 2020 because there weren’t any pandemic precautions. One of these videos (linked here) is about the Christian music industry. Short version, the industry isn’t affirming, because mainstream Christianity isn’t affirming. Towards the end of the video, Baldridge talks to Dan Haseltine, the lead singer of Jars Of Clay (will admit, haven’t listened to them), who received a whole bunch of backlash for asking why people were so opposed to gay marriage on Twitter in 2014. I will note that Haseltine mentions that there are other Christian bands/artists who would be openly affirming, but can’t because of label/distribution consequences. Baldridge talks about wanting to see an openly queer Christian artist, and questioning whether the bands, like Switchfoot, that she listened to growing up and related to as a closeted queer kid actually would be supportive of her, and queer people in general.
Now, Baldridge is a musician, releasing an album under the artist name Semler in 2018 called Six Feet Under All The Same. Semler/Baldridge calls it “creepy folk music”. Almost exactly a year ago on TikTok, Baldridge floated the idea of a “queer Christian cover band”, basically taking the songs that pretty much every early-2000s youth group played and reclaiming them for the queer people who were pushed out of the church when they came out. Dare You To Move was one of the songs, Baldridge has been pretty open about her love for Switchfoot and Dare is a very common one among Christian youth groups. Hell, I heard Dare at Christian youth events, and I was involved in that kind of stuff about 10 years later. This is when I started following her, my partner knows I’m a huge fan of Switchfoot and sent me the TikTok of Baldridge’s cover.
In February of 2021, Semler released an EP called Preacher’s Kid, written about her experiences growing up as a queer PK, and all of the religious doubts, questions, and struggles that came with it. I’m not joking when I say that EP exploded, it charted on the Christian charts on Apple Music, Spotify, and iTunes, even reaching number 1 on iTunes. Semler released a single in April with, well, two songs and a prayer. The prayer is done by Kevin Garcia, a queer Christian, kind of minister, and author of Bad Theology Kills. The first song, Thank God For That, is a queer worship song with a lot of swearing. The second song is called TobyMac, and Semler writes about the struggle of growing up with Christian music, interpreting the songs through a queer lens, but not knowing whether or not you’d actually be accepted by the people who wrote/sing the songs. Switchfoot/Only Hope get another shout out here.
“And I’m terrified, I’m terrified, they’d hate me if they knew, I’m using worship songs to say I love you”. This, unfortunately, isn’t an uncommon sentiment among the queer Christians and ex-Christians I know or follow. Now, I was raised in the Catholic Church, not Protestantism, but the homophobia, transphobia, and general queerphobia is just as present. I can’t put into words the fear that comes with being raised with this kind of constant rhetoric, and then figuring out you’re the people they’re talking about and saying horrible things about.
To bring this back to the industry, I know Switchfoot doesn’t call themselves a Christian band, and I respect that, because their music isn’t as inherently religious as bands like Jars of Clay or NEEDTOBREATHE, but they are associated with the Christian music industry. They’re held up as the kinds of people Christians should aspire to be (as long as you ignore the songs criticizing the Church on Jon’s solo projects or any of the myriad songs about doubt). That association is enough for people like me and Baldridge to doubt whether Switchfoot, or any band that doesn’t say one way or another but seems cool, is actually affirming of LGBTQ+ folks. I genuinely never thought I would hear one way or another, not because I didn’t think that Switchfoot/Jon would openly be assholes, but because that fear runs so deep. You NEVER know if the person who seems outwardly kind believes that you don’t deserve to have rights, that you don’t deserve to have a place in Christianity.
Due to Preacher’s Kid and the follow-up single, Baldridge has gained a platform on Twitter/TikTok to be a voice for queer Christians. Baldridge used this platform to ask the question: “Is Switchfoot affirming?” Her first TikTok earlier this week was her plan to go to Switchfoot’s show in LA and shout “gay rights” after Dare and see what happens. She was too far back for the band to hear, unfortunately, so nothing really happened, so she posted a follow-up TikTok basically saying that. I think Jon’s video is replying to the first TikTok, there isn’t enough of Grace’s video at the beginning for me to know.
“I support your rights and freedoms” is not a sentence I ever thought I’d hear from Jon Foreman in regards to queer people. I never thought I’d hear that queer people are accepted for who they are at Switchfoot shows. This band and this music has meant so much to me throughout my life, it’s gotten me through some incredibly difficult times, including trying to figure myself out and come out. I resigned myself to the fact that my queerness would always be something that I would hide in certain situations, including Switchfoot shows. To know that Jon accepts people like me for who we are, and thinks that we have value as queer folks and deserve a place in the conversation, it genuinely means the world to me. I was going to wear my trans pride shirt to the show I’m going to in Boston under my interrobang shirt. I think I’m gonna wear it over my interrobang shirt instead.
The other thing that gets me is Jon’s apology. Dan Haseltine does the same thing when him and Baldridge were talking about Baldridge’s experience growing up with this music and doubting whether she’d be accepted by the people behind the music. Jon (and Dan) genuinely means it when he apologizes for the hurt that Baldridge went through because of being queer and Christian. I can’t put into words what it means to hear someone with a huge amount of influence say “I’m sorry for the hurt that the church put you through”.
This truly means everything because it goes against what mainstream Christianity is saying about queer folks. It feels like the collision of two worlds, and instead of being even more hurt or disappointed, I can instead rest easy knowing the band is accepting and affirming of people like me.
Okay let's fucking rant! WOOOO!
So today kids, we're gonna talk about religious boundaries and religious superiority. TRIGGER WARNING FOR ABORTION MENTION, RELIGIOUS TRAUMA AND RELIGIOUS MENTIONS!
Up until I was 8 years old, I was raised strictly Catholic. My dad is Protestant, my Mum is Catholic so you can imagine how their marriage turned out /hj
However even after I stopped going to church, my mum still kept me and my sister within her religious beliefs. She'd say "God bless" every night and expect us to say it back, She'd say "don't take the Lord's name in vain" saying 'Oh My God' was fine but 'Jesus Christ' wasn't okay appearantly. She also held alot of sexist beliefs that are typically upheld by religion, like men need to be strong and women need to birth any child they have (obviously she's very anti-abortion because of this). Now what I want to talk about, is the first one.
If someone is going through something, or there's a struggle in the world (which there seems to be alot of these days), she will tell me "I know you don't believe in God but can you please say a wee prayer?". Now on the surface, this may seem pretty natural and heartfelt, she wants people to be safe and okay. However there's a massive issue with saying this to me in particular; and by that I mean I am a Pagan Witch Demonolatrist who follows LaVeyan Satanist Statements and Philosophy.
Do you see the problem here? I don't follow her God, in fact I very much worship the opposite in the form of literal Demons. I left my faith so early because I was sick of feeling stuck in a world that was simply just used for propaganda of a group that didn't care about me as a person, but only cared that I could spread more of their bullshit. I don't care what religion you believe, but also keep in mind that others have their own beliefs. I'm very much anti-catholic in my life, I don't want to be associated with that in any way and very much plan to write a letter of Apostasy whenever I turn 18 (it's what you write to legally leave the Roman Catholic Church, I didn't even know I was still in it until a year ago which is so fucked).
The reason these people still tell us to "Pray for people" even it we don't do that in our religion, is because Abrahamic Religions have become a social norm and if you don't follow one of them you're weird or it's blasphemy, and that is very damaging and harmful to other faiths and our societal structure as a whole. I don't want to spend the rest of my life having to follow these micro-rituals of another religion while I very clearly and openly practice my own that makes me so much happier.
This is yet another subconscious (and sometimes even overtly conscious) way of these Religions trying to keep people in their little big circle, even when they don't want to be. Even the fact that my mum won't let me write a letter of apostasy to leave shows that even if you say you don't believe their religion, they're still gonna do everything they can to stay latched onto you and follow you around like a crazy ex that refuses to get the hint. It's frustrating, and it's just straight up them thinking they're the one true religion and all others are inferior or "monsters tryna tempt us to sin". It's gross and disgusting.
My mother doesn't respect my religious boundaries, and often times I even have to hide my religion (mostly the demonolatry part). Everyone has their boundaries, everyone needs to have their boundaries respected. I don't care if you're 2 months old or 102 years old, you have boundaries and they need respected, it's basic human decency. This also applies to religion, it's the same reason I don't tell her "Satan curse you" before bed. That'd be fucked because it's not her religion, but she says to her openly non-catholic child "God bless" every night. Both need to be held to same standard, you can't say one is right and the other is wrong, religions are subjective and none of them should be the enemy of another. I made a similar argument a while back; if Bible Thumpers can preach their God in the streets with a legal grant and be protected under it, then why cant I get a legal grant to preach about the 7 Princes of Hell? Because our society is founded on a few limited religions, and that isn't right. We can't shove our faith into eachother's faces and say "See? It's good right?" That isn't how it works, make your religion clear all you want but don't go around the streets trying to tell people to convert, it makes you look like an absolute cunt (which you probably are if that's what you choose to do in your spare time on one of the two days you get off work, this applies double if it IS what you do for work).
In conclusion, do not latch your micro-rituals onto people who do not follow your faith! It is forceful, wrong and unfair!
TRIGGER WARNING FOR ABORTION MENTION, RELIGIOUS TRAUMA AND RELIGIOUS MENTIONS ABOVE!
Bright Moon’s and Catra’s albums & track descriptions!
Disclaimer: these are not meant to be *exactly* how i pictured their album covers to look like, but they are concepts, and i like them and wanted to share them<3 also, not all of the songs have descriptions because for some of them i just thought of a name and went “ooh pretty” and left it at that because i have a pea brain. you also need to read chapter 8 for context!
bright moon’s album: Until Tomorrow
theme: coming home
until tomorrow - kind of like “I’ll see you later my friend” vibes, and “I’ll miss you but we’ll be together always, no matter the place or distance”.
slow fall - falling in love slowly and not realizing it until you hit the ground.
marie antoinette - it sounds cool and glimmer probably has a sick drum solo in it that’s literally the only reason for this.
isn’t it wonderful? - being in a good place; feeling comfortable with yourself and feeling at home with your friends and all that; finally finding belonging and no longer being lost, wandering a barren desert
my dear - talking about how being in love with someone makes you want to wake up every day and call them “my dear” and other cute lovey-dopey nicknames that, if used by anyone else, would make you gag because ew PDA
heaven - all gay artists are required by law to have a song with nods to religion but in a reclaiming it kind of way because of religious trauma and it’s always super gay so yeah that’s what this is honestly.
bed - wanting to stay in bed all day and just be lazy and comfortable; being happy and not rushed at all; it’s very unusual because you’re the type to always be running around and never taking breaks, but now that you’ve met someone, all you want to do is to just stay in bed with them all day long under the warmth and safety of the covers; kind of like being in the “honeymoon phase”.
road trip - wanting to travel the world with your friends and those you love; also the feeling of just returning home and being happy wherever you are as long as you are with the people you love the most; you can travel thousands of miles, but you can make anywhere feel like home if the right people accompany you.
the skies are prettiest wherever you are - it’s relatively self explanatory; being in love and only seeing the beauty in things when the person you’re in love with is around; they make even the darkest of days beautiful and worthwhile.
campfire - not to be confused with the campfire song from spongebob
as long as we have each other ft. catra - holding onto your loved ones; making an unbreakable promise; everything will be alright if you have one another, and nothing bad can hurt you; the person you love is your home because you feel safe around them; meant to be a sister song to “nothing bad can happen” by catra ft. bright moon, a bonus track.
magic treehouse ft. catra - wanting to see the world with your best friend like you’re children again and thinking you could just teleport; escaping the problems of your own life to have fun with your best friend, creating a world of magic between the two of you that cannot be harmed by the outside world.
all this time (it was just you) - one of the songs by adora; it’s about catra and how adora realizes that catra is all she wants in the world, but she had been too blind to see it sometimes.
cottage by the ocean - one of the songs by adora; about wanting a peaceful life with catra where it’s like they are the only two people in the world and nothing else matters except them and their love; they live in a cottage by the ocean where they can collect sea shells and take walks along the water at sunset, just finally being happy and at peace and undisturbed.
in my dreams - one of the songs by adora; how she dreams about the two of them being happy and having no worries. She’s been having reoccurring dreams that have the common theme of having a life with catra; they come home to each other, they do not have to worry about the pains of the world or their pasts, they can do things that are only possible in dreams.
a thing or two - one of the songs by adora; catra has taught her a few things about life, and how those things have changed her for the better; if it weren’t for catra, adora would have been a totally different person, and now adora wants to thank her for being in her life, even if only for a short while, and that she will love her always.
catra’s album: play me out
theme: growth, healing
space - learning how to not rely on others; independence; loving people but not making your whole life about them
i am me - self love; the journey of loving both the good and bad parts of yourself; accepting who you are; forgiving yourself
aphrodite - literally just how fucking hot adora is and how aphrodite’s beauty doesn’t compare to her (both her physical and non-physical features, and like more subtle and random ones like the way she smiles when she sees catra, how she laughs at her own stupid dad jokes, etc)
play me out (ft. adora grayskull) - just a love song; returning to one another after being apart; learning that you were meant to be together
fuck it - not giving a shit about what other people think; let the people talk and say whatever they want because catra isn’t going to give a damn; she’s just gonna keep living her life by her rules and enjoy it
once upon a time - her childhood growing up with adora, but making it sound more fairytale like and more innocent, even the darker stuff like trauma and losing parents and being abused (“you were my knight in shining armor” type stuff)
demons - Catra dealing with her inner demons, her self hatred, self sabotage, trauma; how those things don’t define the person she wants to be today and tomorrow and every day after
walk in the rain - reflecting on her feelings for adora while taking a walk in the rain; the rain on her skin is refreshing and washes away any lingering doubts and insecurities; she is left feeling anew and lighter and very much in love
steinway - straight up h*rny hours; basically just catra wanting adora to,,,yeah,,,on top of an expensive piano (a steinway, if you will) because classy shit
worship - remember that thing about fighting religious trauma with gay shit? Yeah🖤; real “take me to church vibes” and like “im far from religious but i feel like I’m sinning when i think about you” or “i didn’t believe in religion until i fell in love with you” type shit
promise me this (ft. bright moon) - making promises to the person you love; “promise me that we’ll be the same ten years from now”
muse - inspired by adora being catra’s favorite muse when she’s painting; her muse distracts her from the problems of the world as she creates art
nothing bad can happen (feat bright moon) - sister song to “as long as we have each other”
you are my best mistake - reflecting on how she thought adora was a mistake for so many years until she realized she couldn’t live without her and that she would always love her, so she must just be the best damn mistake Catra ever made, and catra doesn’t regret loving her or being with her
coffee stains - the impact someone you love leaves on you, how it lingers like a coffee stain and never quite leaves forever; they will always be a part of you, even if you try your damndest to rid yourself of them; they may not be in your life anymore, but you will continue to see them in the littlest of things because they meant that much to you, and you will always cherish your time with them, choosing to embrace the coffee stain as part of your shirt instead of trying to remove it