#barely anyones goes to that church anymore

[squirmydonnie]

I'm at church right now and if theres one thing I don't like about it would be how much I'm expected to smile.

I've heard " hey pretty girl twice since I've gotten here, and all that means is I need to smile.

I don't want to do that.

This church is quite open and larger than other churches. There's a few nurseries here.

I'm hiding in plain sight really.

The door is open but I doubt anyones going to look in here.

#cheeseburgerboy #a home church is the church you were at the most of your life #specifically from when you were a kid #im not at that church anymore #the church is very small #it only had about 2 rooms #2 bathrooms #and a hall to seprate it #barely anyones goes to that church anymore #my dad still goes and i think hes preaching there today #but who is he going to be preaching to? #theres barely anyone there #i feel bad about it #but what am i supposed to do #i don't want to go to church either way #but at least their services are really short #the church im at now last hours #the church i used to go to used to be a school and its over a century old #so that explains a bit

[cowgurrrl]

Don't Let This Darkness Fool You

Summary: Joel's journey to sobriety [1.1k]

Author's note: idk how i feel about this

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, ANGST, TW ADDICTION, misuse of drugs and alcohol, mention of Sarah's death and Ellie's time in FEDRA school, chronic pain, symptoms of withdrawal, Joel trying to make peace with his past, happy ending

The first time Joel goes to a meeting, he sits in the back and says nothing. He watches person after person get up and talk at the front of the room like it's the easiest thing in the world. He doesn't move. He can barely breathe in the musty church rec room as he listens to their stories and finds pieces of himself in each. The survivor left to carry on when everyone else died or left; the bereaved parent; the ruthless dealer shaking down clients to make ends meet; the addict.

Joel never felt the need to examine his relationship with substances. He drank and smoked and made bad decisions as a teenager and into young adulthood, which is partly how he became a single parent at twenty-two. After Sarah was born, he didn't have the time or energy to party anymore. Sure, he had a beer or two here, but never anything close to a bender. He always had to wake up for work and make sure Sarah got to school on time. He would just be setting himself up for failure if he drank heavily.

Then Sarah died, and nothing mattered anymore. The FEDRA doctor gave him a bottle of painkillers for the stitches on the side of his head, and he never thought twice about it. At first, it was manageable. A drink here, some pills there. His kid had just died. He was allowed to grieve however he wanted to, or that was his reasoning, at least, when it became harder to get under control. He would go from being fine to the throes of withdrawal and back to the hazy stupor that rendered him incapable of function. It was a cycle. One that Tess and Tommy hated, but he was always sober when they needed him to be, or he tried to be.

That entire year spent with Ellie, he was more scared of what would happen if he did touch the stuff than if he didn't. His objective was no longer how fast he could get his next fix. It was how fast he could get Ellie fed or somewhere safe. When they finally settled in Jackson, he felt like he could relax without the help of a neat whiskey or a handful of menacing white pills. He was good. He kicked his nasty little habit that followed him for decades and cold turkey at that. He was fine. Until the trauma from the previous twelve months finally caught up with him.

His back was permanently fucked up from falling off the horse in Colorado. He got horrible headaches, which were probably the result of one too many hits to the head and neck. His wrist clicked in pain every time he moved it too fast, and he couldn't sleep. The Jackson doctor cautiously prescribed him anti-anxiety medication and painkillers. And goddammit, if those little pills didn't make him feel the tiniest bit better. He could feel the spiral start again but was too scared to voice it or ask for help.

It wasn't until that night when he stumbled home drunk and a little high after a patrol shift and found Ellie doing homework at the dinner table. He slurred an apology, and she eyed him like a dangerous stranger when he sat across from her. They got into a fight. Joel doesn't remember what it was about, but he remembers going to bed feeling stone-cold sober even though the alcohol was still thrumming through his veins. In the morning, Ellie admitted that she hated when he drank because it reminded her of the FEDRA soldiers loudly coming home from QZ bars. Drunk men with authority and weapons are enough to scare anyone, let alone a little girl. Joel promised her it would never happen again, and he fully intended to keep his promise, but he'd be lying if he said it was easy to quit.

His hands shook in pain for the first few days, and he constantly felt sick. He was sweaty and irritable and uncomfortable. It didn't help that the other patrolmen would ask him to join them for a drink after patrols. He almost folded once. He was almost over the threshold of the Tipsy Bison before he doubled back and ended up at Tommy's door, crumpling in on himself from pain and withdrawal. It was Tommy who mentioned something about the drug addict's anonymous support group. "I'll even come with ya." His brother offered as he rubbed his back like Joel was a fussy infant instead of a grown man.

So, that's how Joel found himself white-knuckling his way through a DAA meeting with Tommy at his side. Tommy assured him that everything said in the meeting was privileged and couldn't leave the church doors. Joel was safe to say anything, and he would receive support. Still, he was so scared. He just sat and watched. It would take two more months of tears, sleepless nights, and fighting temptation before he found the strength to walk down to the front of the room.

"Hi, my name's Joel and… I'm, uh," he stumbled. "I'm an addict." He shared the bits of his story he felt comfortable sharing, but his hands wrung nervously the whole time. He was waiting for the room to turn on him or for the world to end (again), but it didn't. He said the worst things about himself and everything was… fine. "I just… wanna do better for my," he breathed deeply. "For my Ellie." He awkwardly thanked the group and moved to sit back down when the group leader, a kind-looking woman named Shawna, stopped him.

"How long have you been sober, Joel?" She asked softly, and he cleared his throat.

"'Bout four months, ma'am." He said, and she quickly turned to grab something out of her bag. Before he could ask what she was looking for, she pressed a dented circle into his hand and smiled.

"Now, it ain't as pretty as the ones back in the day, but you should be just as proud." She said before encouraging the group to applaud Joel. He felt silly receiving the praise, but when he sat back down, he couldn't ignore how much better he felt.

He didn't look at what Shawna gave him until after the meeting. He thought it was a personal thing he should see only when alone. He waited until his boots were off and he was comfortable on the couch before fishing the wonky thing out of his pocket and looking at it. It was obviously made from scrap pieces of metal, and the engraving was all wrong, but the words "4 months sober" still made him beam with pride. Joel stared at it for a few minutes before walking upstairs to Ellie's empty room and scribbling a note on her desk.

When Ellie gets home from studying with Dina and Jesse, she finds the coin on her desk beside a note in Joel's blocky handwriting. It reads, "Every single one is for you. It's all for you."

#joel miller angst #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fic #joel tlou #tlou angst #the last of us angst #the last of us fic #joel and ellie

[swann-song]

daydreaming - part two

summary: you start spiralling thinking about pierre. unbeknownst to you, he’s just the same

eavesdropping is a sin. so doing so in a church must be a double sin but you couldn’t help yourself. since pierre had come to your work, you’d become sensitive to any mention of him. your ears physically perked up and it took a lot of effort to appear casual, uninterested even. however, when you hear ms. chavanges talking to her friends about pierre, god would understand. before sunday sermon, you heard his mother asking which girls her friends thought suitable. you heard them throw around twelve or so names, with a comment on said girls profession, her dating history, families and some of the girls that had even asked about pierre themselves. you felt indignant that your name wasn’t brought up by the time the sermon started.

you weren’t paying any attention, your mind was spiralling. you’d been single a couple years now, and was generally well liked, the age gap between yourself and pierre was big but really your old enough now that it hasn’t mattered for a while. your thoughts circled and circled, you became angry at no one in particular. your mother kept dragging you up and poking your thighs to get you to pay attention but everything unrelated to pierre was in one ear, out the other.

when the congregation got up to leave, you tried to fidget around so you could hear a bit more of ms. chavanges plans but your mother pulled you out impatiently. "you weren’t listening at all were you" your mother scolded you as you walked to the car. "we have to hurry i have to make the cake before dinner". you stared out the window, quite puzzled, why wouldn’t ms. chavanges mention you, you knew she liked you, why was she only mentioning blondes, does pierre prefer blondes?. "what are you thinking about, your so quite" your mother was driving like a lunatic, but you’ve become completely desensitised to it.

you hadn’t mentioned pierre to anyone, not that there was anything to say. your mother knew you had a crush on him in your teens but she had rolled her eyes at it, it was a phase after all. you haven’t been pining for him for a decade, you’d liked others and dated even. you’d liked him at 16 and even now at 26, she’d just say your nostalgic.

that night you could barely sleep, it felt like you were regressing in some way, having an immature crush on someone so completely unavailable wasn’t a good sign. it had been harmless enough when he didn’t even know you, when you’d be on the same aisle at the supermarket and he wouldn’t notice, or when queuing at the post office together, it was mainly boredom than anything…

now that he knows your name though and the image of his smile as he waved at you is etched into your mind it isn’t fun anymore. although you are within each others orbit, pierre isn’t someone you have any connection to, you don’t have his number, you have no mutual friends or frequent the same places. you resent your mother for not being friends with his. for the next few weeks you become impatient and irritated, short with your friends, ditzy at work and very self hating.

you go to sleep daydreaming being close to pierre, reminiscing the deep hum in his voice, imagining his lips close to your cheek, speaking to you sweetly. as you get restless and the night goes on, the imaginings become less innocent. your hands roam your body imaging it’s pierre’s, his rough hands and strong arms. you feel a tinge of guilt and shame after your release, the fatigue sets in and you can finally sleep. it doesn’t feel great to be getting off to the thought of a guy you’ve had one conversation with.

*

pierre had built a fixation on you. he always had a lot of time to think and since he met you, he’d only thought of you. he always had a million and one chores, having the same conversations with his parents and friends. he thought of you constantly and had begun to zone out, everyone snaps their fingers in front of him to get his attention. he wanted to see you again, having already finished the russian epic, he knew he had an excuse to go back to your work. he had been putting it off, going through every scenario, trying to anticipate your reactions.

he found you on instagram, he scrolled through your profile every night. it didn’t have much, mostly group pictures from events, your amateur photography and book reviews. his fingers went back to the handful of pictures with your face. he was puzzled, how had you always been there and he hadn’t seen, was he really that blind and detached. your beautiful, unbelievably so. he thought of your lips again, the soft plum bottom lips, he imagined biting them. your voice was ringing in his ears, the way it twinkled, the mocking tone when you corrected him. he remembered your hair in a mess, the rings curling at your neck, some resting on your décolletage. he had wanted to run his hands through it, following it down your back, wanted to rest his hands around your waist.

"angelique bought you a new tart to try, isn’t that sweet of her" pierre’s mother didn’t even let him fully enter the kitchen, he hummed noncommittally and took a chair at the table. his father moved the plate of tart towards him. taking a fork, he had a bite and nodded to his parents, he was hardly qualified to judge but hoped it would get them off his back. the lunch had a tension from his mother he recognised, she was waiting to drop a bomb on him, while his father casually flipped through his paper, no ally to his son. this atmosphere wasn’t good for his digestion, that’s for sure.

his mother cleared her throat, pierre braced himself, that’s lunch done. "don’t you think angelique's a nice girl… quite pretty too" just what pierre needed, a set up. "the baker? of course, i suppose" that usually did the trick, his mother wasn’t the best matchmaker and it’s not like she knew he was obsessed with you, can’t blame her for trying. another pause. "i’ve invited her over for dinner tomorrow night, she’s bringing dessert" pierre's eyes narrowed at his mother. it’s one thing to talk about these girls but to invite them over was ridiculous. "isn’t that nice" he drawled, his mother noticed his insincerity and began to speak, pierre was already across the house and going to his office. angelique may be having dinner here tomorrow, but he won’t

so it’s decided, pierre grabbed his book determined to see you today.

daydreaming masterlist

#sorry if the slow burn is too slow #i should shut up lol #swann arlaud #petit paysan #bloody milk #pierre chavanges #fanfic #y/n

[dulcesiabits]

la confession.

summary: you and lucas proust visit a church.

notes: .7 words, MAJOR Lucas route spoilers, heavy on the catholic guilt, mentions/questioning/discussion of god, hints of an unhealthy relationship dynamic

There’s no one in the church when you and Lucas stumble in past midnight. Moonlight gilds the pews in silver, stained glass shining like dappled blood across the pulpit.

You pause at the entrance, because it feels wrong to be here. Sacrilegious. Could God ever forgive the two of you for entering his house without permission? For Lucas, who drips blood across the polished wooden floors as he falls to his knees? He bows his head, ponytail spilling like sunlight across his neck, clasping his hands in a feverish prayer with words you can’t hear. 

You creep closer as he mumbles, footsteps echoing. Lucas, in a sudden fit of mania, had come home and begged you to go to church with him. You could have refused, but the fear in his voice had made you nod your head reluctantly. There was barely enough time to throw on a cloak before he yanked you out the door and down the darkened streets.

“Forgive me. God, forgive me.” That’s the only part of his prayer you hear as you pause behind him. He’s still dressed in black, in the clothes he wears when he goes outside to conduct his activities for Capucine. A holy mission, Lucas would have called it. To you, it was nothing more than murder.

Something hard and bitter sticks in your throat at his words, at his bowed form, like a child begging for forgiveness. He’s ruined your life. He’s ruined the lives of countless others. What would prayer do for those who were dead, and could never come back?

“Do you think God will forgive you, Lucas?” you whisper.

A wild blue eye flashes at you, like the night you found him. Did you go too far? Before you can contemplate whether you should apologize, Lucas grasps the bottom of your cloak. He’s still kneeling as he crushes the fabric in his fingers, his hold paralyzing.

“You’re right,” he croaks. “God can’t. God shouldn’t. But I… what can I do? What else can I do? I… I didn’t ask for this.”

“Then why did you do it?” you murmur.

“Because I had no choice!” His fingers claw at you, like he’s clinging to the edge of a cliff. “Because I had to. Because otherwise Nadia will… Nadia will die.”

“I thought this was a holy mission to you.” Why are you saying these words to him? Maybe because Lucas could force you to stay by his side, but he always clung to you like you were the one who could leave him.

“It… It is,” he says. “It’s…” He bows his head further, burying his face into your calves. “It… It’s…”

“Lucas,” you whisper. “Tell me the truth.”

“I… I don’t want to… hurt anyone. God. God, if those relievers are truly demons, then why do they scream? Why do they bleed so? Even if they�� aren’t human… they still have lives. I’m taking their lives. They still remember being human. It hurts. I don’t want to hurt them anymore. I’ve never wanted to hurt them.” His voice is breaking into pieces. It’s so unlike the calm teacher you once knew, the one who always had the right words, who could soothe any rowdy child. 

You slowly lower your hand, placing it lightly on the crown of his head, fingers tangling in his beautiful hair. A benediction. A curse. “So what do you want?”

“I want to stop. I don’t want to kill anyone anymore. I want to stay with Nadia.”

Is he weeping? You can’t tell. What a cruel God Lucas loves. You gently extract your legs from his grip, and he lets you go, arms falling limply at his sides. Kneeling, you pull Lucas to you, sheltering him in your arms, his head pressed to your chest. 

“Please forgive me,” he mumbles, but you don’t know if he’s asking you, his angel, or God. 

You’re wrong, you want to say. God can’t save him. If God could, then why did he let Lucas suffer like this? Maybe you’re the one who really needs to pray. For if Lucas is a sinner, what does that make you, someone who wants to love and forgive him, despite everything he’s done, and all the people he’s hurt?

Your arms tighten around Lucas’s back like a cage. God isn’t here. But you are.

#liya writes #otome #virche evermore: error salvation #shuuen no virche #virche evermore #lucas proust #lucas proust x reader #lucas proust i love u with all my heart even if no one else does #(says this and then torments him) #anyways i love him but there was smth from his route that i was missing

[theweirdgoodbyes]

never asked me once about the wrong i did: chapter 1

“Po’, po’ thing,” his granmere would lament from her rocking chair, gazing at him with those same eyes he sees in the mirror, “He already dead.”

His mama would hush her, whispering in a hurried Creole that Merriell can’t quite understand. He thinks Mama doesn’t teach him more so she can say what she wants around him, secret things he’s not old enough to understand at seven years old.

It’s Sunday after church, and everyone has made the walk to Granmere’s house which has long become too small to fit them all. They strip off their nice church shirts and hang them on the hook at the front door, a habit Mama drilled into them by the time they could walk and one of the few times all seven of her boys listened. They then make their way across the house to where Granmere sits in her rocking chair, smile across her ancient face. She sits and rocks, accepts each boy with a kiss on the cheek, a squeeze to their arm or bare belly, a tsk followed by, “Oh, po’ baby. Anna Mae, you ain’t feedin’ my boy.” By the time Merriell reaches her, he can see her expression change. The smiles fades, those pinching fingers stop their search for flesh.

“Oh, baby,” she says, reaching for the cross around her neck. It’s an old thing, as old as her and the dirt below their feet, made of crude wood. She rubs it and shakes her head, “Po’, po’ thing.”

Merriell doesn’t try to hug her anymore, and doesn’t tell anyone how much it bothers him.

Their jobs begin after greetings, shuffled into a boiling hot kitchen with the rest of the cousins, sitting Indian style wherever they can find a spot. Picking beans, chopping the sausage, whatever task Granmere has delegated to her brood takes up the next hour. Mama and the aunties bustle around the kitchen while Daddy and his uncles sit outside and smoke their cigarettes. Merriell liked Sundays for the most part, aside from Granmere’s unrelenting gaze and worried quips. Daddy didn’t drink on Sundays, so he knew the only beating he could get was a sharp rap on the knuckles for sneaking bites from the pot before dinner.

“They talkin’ ‘bout you,” Llewelyn says, a finger slick with the grease from the sausage pointing at him before motioning to Granmere and Mama, “‘bout what you did.” Llewelyn knows more Creole than the rest of them combined, on account of being the oldest, a fact he made sure they all remembered.

Merriell lowers his eyes, focusing on picking out each pea from the pod he’s cracked. He counts as he goes, a habit he’s picked up to keep him calm during these very accusations.

“Mama says it not on me,” he mumbles, the same answer he always gives. Mama says it was God that took Vernon, born minutes after him with Merriell’s umbilical cord wrapped around his neck. Mama says God took him straight to Heaven, that he was too good to be on Earth with the rest of them. Merriell always wonders if he was left behind because he wasn’t all that good. He tries to be a good boy, he really does. He listens to Mama better than any of his brothers, and always does his chores without fussing. But he’s not always a good boy. He steals candy from the store by their house, and chases their old fat cat under the porch only to poke at him with a stick while he hisses and yowls. Merriell wonders if God can see him waiting each night for their neighbor Mr. Leconte to come home, sitting on the stoop until he passes by. He always gives Merriell a wink and a wave, something that gets his heart thumping hard. Even at seven, he knows that alone makes him wicked.

Next to him, little Eugene, the only cousin younger than him, pipes up in his soft voice.

“My mama say don’t say that.”

“Your mama ain’t my fuckin’ mama,” Llewelyn spits back, sticking his knife into the next link of sausage. Eugene shrinks back, leaning closer to Merriell. Twelve years younger than Llewelyn’s fifteen, he’d always been scared of the older boy. “We all know it’s true. Ain’t you listen at church? Killin’ a sin. Don’t matter none what Merriell do for the rest of his life; he goin’ to Hell.”

Llewelyn stands with his plate of chopped sausage, handing it off to Auntie Lorraine before exiting the kitchen. He’s about to go stand with Daddy and the uncles, satelliting the outskirts, hoping for an offer of a cigarette and to be included in the menfolk talk.

Merriell keeps staring at his peas, picking away. His mind is far, far away from Granmere’s kitchen. He’s nearly counted to 50 when he feels Eugene’s small hand on his knee. He doesn’t look up.

“I don’t think it, Mer,” Eugene says, barely above a whisper. The threat of Llewelyn coming back, angry at being sent back to the kitchen with the little ones, looms over them. “You’ll be in Heaven with us.”

Merriell doesn’t say anything. He keeps picking his peas, counting, wondering if when he gets to those pearly gates in the sky, they’ll be shut tight.

Omg, hello everyone. This is the first stab at fanfic I’ve take in quite a while. Overall what I post here will be my first drafts, I will likely be posting it at ao3 upon its completion, but please enjoy this humble chapter in the meantime!

#hbo the pacific #the pacific #hbo war #merriell shelton #snafu shelton #fanfic #sledgefu #sneaky Eugene Roe cameo #band of brothers #Maddie writes

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

Fuck it. I really like how you write Undertaker so could you please do an undertaker x reader, dealers choice? Could be fluff, le comedy, or ANGST, surprise me 💕

I apparently jump on angst when it comes to Undertaker, OOPS-

You think endless years of life and loss have shattered your lover into pieces.

Whatever else he may be, you believe the UNDERTAKER is a very, very broken man.

How long has he even been alive for, you wonder? How many people has he lost over his lifetime? Other than the vague fact of, All of them. You don’t want to be another one, but… he knows better than anyone else the cycle of life and death.

It’s simply obvious that he thought he could put a halt to it.

It’s sad to watch him, as you see him now, in this derelict church, sitting among rotted pews and jagged pieces of smashed-in stained glass. There are vines and flowers everywhere; you get the distinct sense that he doesn’t think it’s a beautiful thing.

… This whole place. It reminds you of his heart. Maybe that’s why you assume he doesn’t think it’s beautiful, because he has a very low opinion of himself by this point.

Living has eroded his self-image to nothing, like water beating a rough stone until it’s perfectly polished. You think this place is beautiful, in a melancholy sort of way.

You think he’s beautiful, in a melancholy sort of way. In a contrast to this place, he hasn’t let the new blossoms of moving on grow over him. He’s rooted himself, allowing the memories of his losses to consume him and make growth impossible.

You lower yourself next to him, and it’s telling that he barely even moves. He doesn’t look at you, he doesn’t move away. He doesn’t let his grip loosen a single bit on the chain of mourning lockets that are wrapped around his long nails and draped over his fingers.

God. You can only imagine what’s running through his mind.

You’re quiet as you lean your head against his shoulder. Any words you can think to say sound hollow when they ring in your skull, so you don’t say anything. You just sit, and exist next to the person you love more than anything in this world.

Finally, he’s the one to break the silence.

“It never gets better, y’ know.” His thumb runs over the locket resting in his palm. His eyes are weary, red-rimmed with the evidence of someone who’s cried until he has no tears left, and continued crying regardless.

You tilt your head with a soft hum. A request for elaboration.

The breath he takes is a gasp for air after breaking the surface of nearly drowning. “That’s what ev’ryone told me. ‘It’ll get better.’ ‘Time heals all wounds.’ ‘What do y’ think they’d want y’ t’ do?’”

His hand might crush the locket if that weren’t the very thing he’s been trying to avoid with every effort he’s made. “It’s a bunch of shite. It doesn’t get better. It never heals. An’ how the hell would anyone else know what they’d want me to do? There ain’t no movin’ past a hole in your chest that keeps gettin’ bigger and bigger, somethin’ that ain’t there but it feels so damn heavy y’ can’t get outta bed sometimes.”

He swallows, and it’s audible, and he finally turns to look at you. Fluorescent green eyes are only hidden from you by a film of tears. Suddenly, every scar you can see dotting his body makes you think he’s stitched together with nothing but memories.

As if that’s all he is anymore. A vessel for the memories of all the people he’s ever loved, instead of being the person he used to be.

“I don’t want to let go.” It’s spit out furiously, a response to a question you haven’t even asked yet. He brings the lockets close to his chest and curls into you. “They’re all gone now, (Name). My mum… my dad… the first one I loved… all the other family and friends and lovers I cared about since then…”

He looks up at you, pleading with you to understand.

“They’re gone,” he says in a voice that’s barely a whisper. “If I don’t remember ‘em… if my life goes on jus’ the same as it did before I lost ‘em… don’t that mean I didn’t actually love ‘em? But I did… I did, darlin’… jus’ like I love you.”

The way he says it makes it abundantly clear: if he thinks he didn’t love all those people, and that he didn’t love you, because he moved on after losing them, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

Once again, everything you can think to say seems like a blade to shove and twist in his already gaping wounds.

So you put your arms around him, and hold his broken pieces together as best you can, and murmur a declaration that feels louder than it sounds. “I love you too, Adrian.”

#tehgreatboo #grief tw #Black Butler #Kuroshitsuji #Undertaker #reader insert #romantic #drama #angst #hurt/comfort #UGHHHHHHHH MY HEART IS SPILLING OVER DAMMIT!!!! #I uh - I wrote this pretty fast and surprised myself?? damn XD #one hell of a queue

[rillils]

yeah ok but like what if crowley enters the church, walks in front of the altar, bottle of wine in his hand, goes on his knees and prays?

and if he begs for aziraphale to come back and azi could hear him but cant do anything about it? if it burns crowley to just be in that church but to pray on his knees for aziraphale, just to be ignored?

what then?

SO YOU CHOSE VIOLENCE TODAY HUH

legit i can't even bring myself to consider this, it's too painful 😭

crowley still nursing the tiniest glimmer of hope in his heart, and going back to church over and over again, no matter how much it burns to kneel down.

picking a different church each time because you never know, maybe in the previous one the acoustics just weren't right, or the ground not hallowed enough, and his whispered words of prayer didn't carry far enough for aziraphale to hear them. a guy-shaped being can hope, right? even though that hope keeps shrinking and shriking until he can barely feel its warmth in his heart anymore.

i just. no okay, just, just let me, just for a second, 'kay, 'cause i love angst as much as the next person but i can only handle it IF.

aziraphale can't respond, right? can't do anything, can't just slink down to earth and scoop crowley in his arms and say it's all right, i hear you, i love you, i always have and i always will, i can't imagine living for the rest of eternity without you by my side. but. but but but but butt butt.

maybe the next time crowley enters a church, and stares into the baptismal font for a bit too long, crushed and heartbroken and lost, the surface of the holy water starts to gently ripple without anyone touching it - and a flicker of blue eyes and white curls startles him out of his reverie.

maybe the next time he's on his knees, and he whispers aziraphale's name in the solemn silence of the church, so soft that his breath doesn't even stir the dust motes dancing in this sunbeam, all the candles suddenly flicker to life of their own volition, their little flames trembling just like crowley knows he's trembling - so tiny and so fragile, yet so fucking stubborn.

maybe the next time he goes to walk into a church, the door gently opens for him, without him wishing it to, inviting him in from the cold.

maybe... just maybe, you know? maybe his hope doesn't have to die, not just yet.

#stucky just stucky #personal #BTW HONEY I THINK YOU'RE TRYING TO KILL ME OR SOMETHING #YOU KNOW I'M WEAK AF #FAGSHDAJSDHSKDJLFGKGHJLKSKLDFJ

[lary-the-lizard]

I really dislike the belief we were handed that teenage years are supposed to be full of parties and friends and that if you haven’t experienced that you’re a loser. Like, yeah we as a society kinda moved on from that belief but instead of thinking that people have experienced everything in between and beyond we created another box to put people in. Now we have people that have friends and go to parties and people that don’t have friends and stay home. It’s true that those people exist but hardly incapsulates all of teenagers. Teenage years are life changing but not because they’re the best years or years of close friendships. They’re life changing because your mind has developed to a point that you exist as a self that is pretty self sufficient in many aspects and it’s fucking weird and new. There is no way that teenagers should be or do or have or look or want. For a lot of people being a teenager was awful and for varied reasons. As a teenager you barely know how hold your own form together not to mention know what does and doesn’t suit you. People that really enjoyed their teen years more than any other time period of their lives are rare and it’s fucking tragic that those were their favorite years!

Not having friends as a teen is miserable not because you’re a teen without friends but because you’re without friends. Being at any point in your life without friends is miserable (I don’t mean to downplay the teenage woes). We’ve gotten to a point socially where a lot of people don’t have friends and this is becoming normal to us. This is not an individual issue, this is a public health crisis that our governments are not equipped to handle. Our country doesn’t govern in the interest of the people, it governs to control where the money the goes. Anything that affects us on a personal level is turned into a deal-with it-on-your-own problem. Our country hates community unless it’s controlled. We have barely any places where people can meet up without having to spend money. Do you understand how fucking wrong that is? That makes social life so inaccessible! How the hell are we supposed to make friends when we’re fucking poor? The only places people have to make friends that is normal and mostly reliable is school, church, and work. What if you’re disabled, not religious, and can’t afford school? Is any of that your fault? Does that seem like a personal failing? Now days, even people with friends barely have time to tend to those friendships. We weren’t taught to prioritize friends, we were taught that friends should move in life with us because that’s how it used to work. We used to live in close knit communities, now we travel to towns and cities for work, go to school across the country, and do all our housework alone or with our housemates. We were taught since we don’t do things as a community anymore we have to have girls’ or boys’ night in which we spend money.

We’re forgetting how much we need friends. And I mean just friends; not family, not partners, friends. Friends are necessary for our basic wellbeing. I say this all the time but humans are social animals. We can’t human without each other. We forget what’s normal and start believing that we’re unnatural and harmful. We work too much and hate ourselves for it. We forget how to care for ourselves because we forgot how to love platonically. We need each other so someone can gently pull us back into our bodies without owing anyone anything. We need someone that can look at us and love us just as we are and for that to be enough. Someone to remind us of what we deserve and what kindness looks like. Someone to have our back, to support us even when we’re not there, to hold us a spot in the group, to make sure we’re included. Making friends with the way our society is set is right now is an act of rebellion towards capitalism and the current government. It’s anarchy. And you need to do it not just for your benefit but for everyone’s. And god, it’s so difficult but it will happen. You are worthy of friendship, you are lovable, don’t forget it.

#leftist #fuck the govt #love yourselves #capitalism is the worst #friends #friendship #friendship is real #interdependence #anarchy

[casliveblog]

Custom Toonami Block Week 171 Rundown

Inuyasha The Final Act: Moryomaru’s on his shit again running around absorbing random demons and… he’s after the snake demons from Yashahime? Honestly I completely forgot they were in the original series and apparently for good reason because the FUCKING DIE, like for all its faults usually Yashahime was pretty good about the connective tissue between the original and itself but I guess these guys just aren’t dead anymore by the time of the series. It is kinda dumb that Moryomaru just kinda wants them because ‘they’re snake brothers that hate each other so if I eat them I can fuse stuff to other stuff’ but his arc’s getting ready to end anyway so who cares. Meanwhile Inuyasha’s consulting Totosai about why his new Tessaiga upgrade doesn’t work the diagnosis is basically ‘sword’s fine, you’re just a lil bitch’ basically the same principle that turns Inuyasha into a full demon if the Tessaiga’s not protecting him, he can’t just absorb demonic energy as a half demon or else he’ll go crazy (did anyone ever tell Towa this? Feel like that was literally never a problem for her) but yeah Inuyasha has to run through a demonic obstacle course and learn how to see swirls of demonic energy which… he could already do with the Wind Scar but I guess this is different. Long story short, he gains the power to cut open wells of demonic energy instead of absorbing them, I think this is used like twice before the Meidou Zangetsuha comes by and eats its lunch which is really funny because they already allude to Meidou Zangetsuha being Tessaiga’s Final Form (which you’d think he could just keep absorbing new powers forever idk) so even on release Dragon Scale Tessaiga is already power crept.

Castlevania: We get an extended scene of how Lisa was captured by the church for… having glass and gears I guess, most of it is stuff we already knew though the thing that sticks out to me is she didn’t use a fake last name, like she goes by Lisa Tepes, good for her being proud of her husband and all but don’t people know Dracula’s name is Vlad Tepes? I think I heard someone mention it before so you’re not really helping your case of not being a hellspawn when you literally have Dracula’s last name, it’s a Ben Kenobi situation all over again. Either way, Dracula calls all his boys up to be like ‘yo, we gonna fuck shit up’ and he’s hired two anime misanthropes with suitably tragic backstories for why humans are awful, to do the planning because if you can’t think on a human level you’re gonna fuck shit up. Though even the resident bloodthirsty fight dude Godbrand is like ‘wait we have a plan? I thought we were just sacking villages all over and summoning as much hellspawn as we could’ which is kind of the plan at this point. I do like how Dracula’s rage is personalized by an exhausted finality instead of a howling rage, like everyone seems to be on the same page of ‘look we don’t like genocide, but this humanity thing has had a good run and needs to stop’ which is kind of worse, like there’s only so much talk no jutsu you can do with someone who’s done talking. Meanwhile Trevor, Sypha and Alucard get their initial brooding about their new journey out of the way (Also how old is Alucard? Like he looks in his twenties, but Lisa doesn’t look that much older than when she met Dracula, maybe she just aged like a fine wine or maybe vampire aging is different and you just pop out a twenty year old classy man but it feels like that did not seem to be a twenty year gap). And now Dracula has moved the castle with the big 3D object thing that’s like the only thing I remember from Symphony of the Night.

Jujutsu Kaisen: Megudad is on the rampage and is ready to Rock Lee all over Cthulu and it’s honestly just fantastic to see like after all the complex bullshit with Domains and Animation jargon last episode it’s satisfying to just watch Dadgumi punch the absolute shit out of this guy. They establish he barely has sentience at this point and is basically acting like a heat seeking missile on the largest mass of cursed energy in the area but once he’s done stabbing Cthulu with nunchaku he takes Megumi outside so idk if he does have a shard of sentience in there and just wants to see his son for a sec or if Megumi’s vaguely defined secret superpowers just make him next on Dadgumi’s heat seeking missile radar. Meanwhile Jogo shows up and Cracatoa’s the remaining three guys in like two seconds and I’m not sure if that’s supposed to be an ‘oh shit he’s strong’ moment or an ‘oh shit those guys were really worn out’ moment. Meanwhile meanwhile, the high school girls are sticking fingers down Yuji’s throat because he apparently has no gag reflex and swallows whatever you put in his mouth when he’s unconscious. Only for Jogo to come out and feed him MORE fingers, like half of them right here which they acknowledge they have to do a bunch at once so Sukuna can take over temporarily before Yuji’s body can adapt. I had a feeling JJK wasn’t going to stick to a Shikon Jewel Shard narrative style of collecting the fingers one at a time but this is still a little more than I expected since he’s basically 75% done and got more fingers in him than a Battle Royale Chinese Finger Trap. So yeah Sukuna’s awake but unfortunately for these guys he want to the Muzan Kibutsuchi school of ‘if you’re not immediately subservient and stroking my ego you’re just dead’ and the high school girls get offed for asking him to save Geto even though he asked them what they wanted, like why’s he even asking if he has no intention of doing anything for anybody. I don’t really like this style of villainy like I tend to go more for people that are reasonable to at least not murder their subordinates instantly since it always makes the villains look egotistical and insecure if they can’t handle five seconds of someone not licking their boots but I suppose it is an effective way to show how powerful they are. Meanwhile Jogo goes over the plan to make sure Sukuna stays in control of Yuji’s body and Sukuna’s just like ‘bro I did that a season and a half ago’ but he gives him the same ultimatum he gave Yuji at that point, land one hit and he’ll do them a favor. Idk if Sukuna even intends to make good on any of these I think he just likes flexing on people cause he offers these a lot.

Frieren: Beyond Journey’s End: As a prelude to their journey to go meet with real ghosts, Frieren and Fern have a classic ‘can you shoot a ghost if it looks like someone you love’ mini-adventure, it’s pretty simple but it works for what it has to in order to solidify both of their resolve to go take care of their unfinished business. And then the girls take turns taking pot shots at a dragon and decide they could really use a tank, luckily Eisen was training a tank named Stark in the nearby village so they’re just gonna go pick him up, get the x-ray specs Frieren wants from the dragon and save the village in the meanwhile if they have time. Now Stark is kinda interesting because he’s like a combo of Zenitsu from Demon Slayer and King from One Punch Man in that he’s a weird coward and a fraud but also genuinely ridiculously strong, he just has no real combat experience and thus is terrified of actual monsters. This may also be in part due to him being the only survivor of his home village which he booked it out of when he was a kid, Eisen wanted to train that out of him which I feel like is a little harsh to beat up a kid about running from a horde of monsters, like that’s not cowardice that’s just being fucking nine. But he seems to have internalized some of that and never really gotten over seeing himself as a coward combined with his lack of experience so despite being able to chop a mountain in half like that story of the guy making a path to the hospital, he’s gonna need some help popping his Monster Cherry.

Vinland Saga: So Arnheid’s plan was a little different than I thought, she’s not sneaking in to see Gardar she’s just kinda… asking to come in and because Wolf left and can’t tell her to gfto she gets the one guy that will let her in, I like how she doesn’t even flirt to do it like she’s not a femme fatale she just shows up and looks pretty and the guy is just there for it. So yeah while they’re talking about a metaphorical storm it literally starts raining because Vinland Saga god has a sense of humor and Gardar pulls a Rick Grimes to bite the guard’s neck out and slaughters everyone when Arnheid cuts him free in a split second panic. Like honestly she was kinda against a wall here like ignoring the fact that it was a coin flip split second decision for her husband, even if she didn’t help him the guards are still gonna assume the guy with a chunk out of his neck had more to do with her than the guy that’s all tied up so she didn’t have much choice. Meanwhile back with Thorfinn and Einar, Thorfinn outlines his philosophy of dismantling the toxic masculinity of Norse culture and how defying cultural norms is better than just fucking murdering people that are mildly rude to you. Still he theorizes that if they can stop the root of endless wars they can kill two birds with one pacifist stone and end a large portion of the slave trade. Given slavery and human trafficking are STILL a thing we know this doesn’t quite work out but at least it’s not as normalized and prone to vast swaths of ‘we killed your guys that were good at killing so you belong to us now’ so uhhh… baby steps? Baby, thousand year long steps… Meanwhile the guards are searching their barn for Gardar and Arnheid which tips Thorfinn and Einar off that they’ve escaped and now they’ve got a decision to make about who to help with that.   

Was gonna add the two new shows this week but couldn't find some of them and ran out of time so I'll think more on what I want to watch this coming week and try to get some new additions for next weekend.

#ooc #Toonami #Custom Toonami Block #Inuyasha #Castlevania #Jujutsu Kaisen #Frieren #Souso no Frieren #Vinland Saga

[inkyquince]

share the fe brainrot!!

fiiine

just...

content warning. noncon/dubcon, dark dmitri, very nasty

Just Dmitri, in his Boar state, dark and angry, snapping. Horny snapping as Byleth (reader) is trying to talk to him, his old crush having warped into something more lustful than the puppy love he used to feel for his professor. All those longing looks and blushes that tinted his ears, now amplified.

But now he's different, he isn't sated without the feeling of tearing someone apart, growling.

So, while Bytleth is trying to find him in the darkness, the stars twinkling outside of the broken roof, he snaps. Pins Byleth down and the poor professor thinks that he's trying to hurt them, about to use their ability when he smashes his mouth against theirs, not kissing, but biting their lips, trying to unsettle his professor, trying to get to the parts he always wanted to taste, to sink into, to make love to, now he wishes to ruin them.

Wants to taste their tongue, to feel his teeth against theirs, wants to sink into their soft pliable body in a way that would have them feeling it for weeks.

Fem!Byleth, he's focusing on tits, those pretty things that he used to try not to stare at during class, feeling heat pool in his stomach as she would gather her books, pressing them to her chest so the small bit of skin he'd see would be more pronounced. He bites her nipples, making sure to leave them pink and puffy, hunched over her form, pinning her down and ripping her her bodice. Won't stop, using his gauntets to scratch her ribs, her soft stomach, her thighs until he's facing her poor cunt. She's wet. Byleth is out of it, lips wet and puffy, nipples bitten and her body scratched, but her cunt is glistening, pink, ready to sink into. Dmitri barely even undoes his trousers, just pulling his cock out to sink into her, groaning. Ruts like an animal. Fucks her on the floor, face in her neck as he bites her shoulders, her neck, ruining her skin, before closing his eyes.

Male!Byleth is just as fucked. He always had such a pretty face, soft, almost girly lips, with stern eyes and Dmitri used to squirm under that gaze. When he wasn't staring at his legs, he was watching him spar, muscles flexing under that perfect skin, always besting anyone who trotted up to fight him. He kneels by Byleth's head, yanking his trousers down to sink his cock into his mouth, groaning as he feels his professor stiffen up. Throat fucks him, gripping his hair so tight it's bound to hurt. Doesn't cum down his throat, pulls out of his throat so harshly that it leaves him coughing. Rips his trousers just to spit on his rim, thumb pressing into his ass before lifting him up, pressing his professor's back against his own chest, Byleth not tall enough so Dmitri fully lifts him off his feet, fucking into him with one hand on his throat, the other around his stomach so he's no better than a fuck toy.

Dmitri fucks them and then leaves them on the floor. Continues to be standoffish during their interactions, but The Boar doesn't spend nights in the church anymore, stalking them back to their room to fuck them more and more, until not a night goes by without his need to flood their insides with his cum, grunting as he fucks them.

#ask #fire emblem three houses #dimitri von blaiddyd #dimitri x byleth #nsft #quincewrites

[inafieldofdaisies]

WIP Wednesday (pretend I'm not late) | Tagged by @socially-awkward-skeleton & @direwombat <3 | Tagging @vampireninjabunnies-blog @fourlittleseedlings @detectivelokis @strangefable and anyone that would like to share something

We're arresting Joseph today, folks. Enjoy a snippet from Chapter 3 of Sabrina's story. For the sake of including the end where everything goes down (I feel guilty to cut it out), I'm skipping chunks from the opening of the chapter.

When they entered the church, the atmosphere got even more foreboding. The air was stifling from all the bodies crammed inside. The lighting, numerous phrases scratched into the walls and bird cages dangling from the ceiling invoked a feeling of dread. At the far end Sabrina could see screens with verses and Eden's Gate's version of the cross, the symbol of their Project, between them. "Something is coming. You can feel it, can't you?" From where she stood, Joseph Seed was barely a silhoette, addressing his people from the front of the church. He really was holding a service in the middle of the night. "Gray. He's fucking shirtless too. What is this? Am I about to wake up at the Spread Eagle, with the biggest hangover…", Calahan hissed out. "Not the first time I've arrested a shirtless creep…" Sabrina whispered back, winning a quiet chuckle from Hartley. "We're creeping towards the edge and there will be a reckoning." Joseph's voice was unwavering, even in the presence of so many officers of the law walking towards him. "We know what happens next. They will come. They will try to take from us, take our guns, take our freedom, take our faith. We will not let them." The pews around them were full of people, all getting up from their seats as Whitehorse and the Marshal approached. The hostile stares shifted to Sabrina when she neared the front of the church. "Sheriff, come on,", Burke's impatience struck again, he was done listening to Joseph's ramblings. "Hold on, Marshal." "We will not let their greed or their immorality, or their depravity hurt us anymore." Sabrina got a better look at Joseph Seed and Cal was right- he WAS shirtless, his chest covered in tattoos. On top of that he was wearing yellow aviator glasses indoors at the middle of the night, his darker hair tied back in a manbun… and was holding a rosary in one hand- which was the only thing she could consider normal about his whole appearance during church service. "There will be no more suffering", he continued his speech as Whitehorse tried to keep Burke under control. Sabrina found irony in the fact that earlier he was worried about Cal losing his cool, yet it was the Marshal rushing the arrest and putting them all in danger. Burke held up the warrant, screaming out, "Joseph Seed, I have a warrant issued for your arrest on the suspicion of kidnapping with the intent of harm. Now I want you to step forward and keep your hands where I can see them." At his words some of Joseph's people moved in to stand in front of their leader, all of them armed, ready to defend him with their lives. Fuck. So much for quiet.

Cal's words were barely a whisper, "You say the word, and I'm taking your place, Gray. They're pissed." Instead of addressing Burke, Joseph spoke directly to his followers once more. "There they are, locusts in our Garden. See they've come for me. They've come to take me away from you. They've come to destroy all that we've built!" "STAND DOWN! STAND DOWN! Everyone calm down.", Whitehorse now raised his voice too. Shouting. Chaos. And then silence. Not because of the Sheriff's desperate attempt at deescalating the situation, but so Joseph could speak feely again. Behind him Sabrina saw a familiar figure in a long jacket moving towards the middle. She recognized the slicked back dark brown hair and well-groomed beard, the smug face of the man she saw everywhere in Holland Valley. At least he isn't stupidly wearing his sunglasses inside too. John Seed was there in the flesh, and so were his other siblings, Jacob and Faith. The three were watching the confrontation silently, standing behind their brother in support. "We knew this moment would come, we've prepared for it. Go. Go. God will not let them take me." It was all it took for his men to stand down and walk out of the church. Sabrina had met many con-artists in her life, but this… was on another level. The hold he had over them was chilling. So was the fact he kept chanting about a first seal opening. "STEP FORWARD!", Marshal tried interrupting him unsuccessfully. "…and behold, it was a white horse", Joseph shifted his gaze to the Sheriff, "and hell followed with him." With that he looked at Sabrina and offered his hands out to her in invitation. "Donovan. Cuff him." One step. Then another. "God will not let you take me.", Joseph spoke again. A vision hit her then, stealing her breath away.

Their helicopter crash-landing. The wreckage. "Nobody is coming to save you." Joseph's men all around, embracing him. Eden's Gate Trucks. Hudson being taken away. And Pratt. And-

"DONOVAN!"

Whitehorse's voice pulled Sabrina out of the vision, she was back in the church. From his tone, she doubted it was the first time he said her name. Her hands felt clammy and she realized she had a tight grip on her handcuffs. Joseph's gaze was zeroed in on her now, shining with curiousity, she knew that conniving look well: her mother wore it anytime she sensed she could use Sabrina's visions in her plans. He was trying to figure out what had just happened. She refused to hold his stare, glacing over his left shoulder and unintentionally meeting John's piercing blue eyes in the process. Anger replaced the shock that had overtaken her after the vision. The bastard was smirking at her hesitation, enjoying every second of it. And his cult leader brother was standing there, still offering his hands innocently, trying to convince them he's allowing them to arrest him. Sabrina knew better, she saw what he was about to do. "No."

A step back. People never believed when she tried to warn them, but she had to try. She had to. For Savannah. For all of them.

"This is a trap." She turned to Whitehorse, lowering her voice, "We're going to crash if we arrest him." "Rookie, cuff this son of a bitch.", Marshal wasn't going to listen, he was too set on finishing the task. On getting HIS name in the paper. "I'm sorry, Gray." Hartley took the cuffs from her hand, assuming her role and sealing their fate. "Let's get this over with, you bastard. Joseph Seed, you're under arrest. You have the right to remain silent…", her handcuffs were now secured on Joseph's hands. Her thoughts were racing.

Maybe, maybe there is still time to stop this. "Sheriff, there's going to be an ambush-" "Not now, Donovan. We're gonna talk about this fiasco later. Let's go." It's useless. As always. To see a disaster strike and then be forced to sit there and watch it happen a second time because they all refuse to listen. Hartley passed by her, whispering "You okay, Gray?", he was guiding Joseph towards the doors. She nodded, she'd find a way out of this. She always did.

When they exited the church, the path that led back to the helicopter was surrounded by Peggies, watching, screaming, "They're taking the Father." "I'm a Federal Marshal, I'm ordering you to stand back!" Joseph's men were done keeping at a distance, getting bolder, rowdy and Burke's command was useless at stopping their approach. Warning shots fired in the sky. The 9mm talking over the badge. They barely made it into the helicopter, before the Peggies were climbing all over it, refusing to let their leader go. And instead of telling them to stop, to stand down… he's just sitting there. Basking in the power he holds. Certain he's going to be free soon. Sabrina hated this- the arrogance, a ruthless man thinking he's allowed to use people, to exchange their lives for his. With his men still clinging onto the helicopter, it barely managed to lift off before spiraling back down in a blink as Whitehorse and Pratt lost control of the machine.

Screams. Darkness.

Sabrina found herself regaining consciousness, she could hear a faint "Are you there? Are you there?" coming from somewhere. She was completely disoriented, her head throbbing. Her eyes refused to cooperate, she could barely make out Hartley and Hudson passed out on both of her sides. Across her, Burke too was out cold and Joseph's seat was empty. She realized the helicopter was upside down. The crash… She had failed to stop it. Sabrina tried reaching out for a headset dangling close to her, the source of the voice calling out to them. She caught it, only for Joseph Seed to appear and grab her hand. ♫ "Amazing Grace. How sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me…" ♫ The bastard was singing that damned song again. And he was keeping her from getting help. "Please… Are you there? Is somebody there?", she knew that voice. Nancy. Their only hope now. She would call for reinforcements even if nobody responded, Whitehorse asked her to. "I told you that God wouldn't let you take me.", Joseph reminded Sabrina, staring into her eyes, into her very soul. "Please. I need to know what's going on." Yes, there's panic in Nancy's voice. Help would come- Joseph reached for the headset, "Dispatch. Everything is just fine here. No need to call anyone." "Yes, Father. Praise be to you." No, this can't be happening. NO. She's one of them. In a flash, he was in her face, whispering, "No one is coming to save you." before getting out of the helicopter to meet his men. Embracing them just like in her vision. Telling them how "everything is unfolding according to God's plan." She looked back at her fellow deputies, Joey and Cal were finally coming to, so was the Marshal. "The first seal has been broken. The collapse has began.", Joseph was poiting at them, "these harbingers of doom will see the truth." His voice rose, sending a chill down Sabrina's spine, "BEGIN THE REAPING!" She struggled to break free, but the seatbelt was holding her in place, she knew she won't have much time to fight back. Joseph's men grabbed Hudson then and Sabrina reached for Joey, trying to stop them from dragging her into one of their trucks. She failed, her strength was leaving her, the crash really had done a number on her. "GRAY!", Cal called out from outside, he had freed himself, "I'm gonna get you out, hold on." The helicopter caught fire on her right, forcing the Peggies to back away. "Let them burn. This is God's will. This is their punishment." Burke stumbled out too, running away, saving only himself. "Go, kid. I will be right behind you." She didn't want to risk both of them getting caught. Even if she didn't follow, Cal would get help.

I'm only going to slow him down. "Sabrina…" "Go, Calahan! I mean it. FUCKING RUN." She knew this time he had listened because Joseph's men were shouting "They're getting away!" Sabrina took a deep breath, her seatbelt finally gave way, she was free. With all the strength she could muster, she crawled out of the helicopter, her fingers making contact with the wet leaves on the ground and the dirt. She was out. But- It's too easy. Too quiet. Then she saw them. A pair of boots, right in front of her. She looked up. Her vision was still a little blurry, her head starting to hurt more by the minute. She could feel blood trickling down her face. Fuck. It's getting worse.

And she had company. John Seed. Looming over her. Staring. Smirking like he did in the church.

Sabrina attempted to stand up and failed, knees giving out. She propped herself up with one hand, reaching for the gun in her holster with the other. Raising up her weapon at John. Her hand shook. Her vision blurred again. No. In a blink, he grabbed the gun from her grip, muttering "Now, that's enough, Sabrina." She was disarmed, his voice- the last thing she heard before losing consciousness.

John

John arrived at the crash site in the woods last, his people had already taken Hudson away and two of the Sinners that tried to arrest Joseph had managed to escape. They won't be free for long. The Reaping has began. Then he saw her. Sabrina. Crawling away from the wrecked helicopter. Fierce, refusing to give up. Even in her weakened state, she was trying to fight back, blood running down her face, dead set on killing him. He looked at Sabrina, now passed out cold on the ground in front of him. Good try, Deputy. But you failed. Can't say I didn't find it entertaining, though. Ever since her birthday he tried to keep his mind occupied and mostly succeeded at ignoring the urge to find her again. His curiosity came back in full-force the moment she walked into the church, tasked with the arrest of his brother.

And yet you refused. Why, Deputy?

She had looked at him for the first time back there, expressive hazel eyes betraying her attempt to appear stoic, telling him she's terrified.

Of what? Him? His brother? Yes, you should be.

"Brother," Joseph walked over, putting a hand on his shoulder. He had been quietly observing John since his late arrival. "something is bothering me." "What is it?" "This one…", his gaze shifted to Sabrina, "she acted strange during the arrest. As if she saw something. It was written all over her face." "Yes. I saw that, too." "We don't need any hindrances now that the Collapse is upon is. This girl could be one." John nodded, he knew how important it was for everything to go down the way Joseph saw it. The way God intended things to happen. "I'm leaving her in your care, brother. Find out what's going on, but keep it quiet, until we know what we're dealing with. Minimize our people's exposure to her. Do you think you can manage that?" "Of course, brother. I will see to it. You know that." "Good, good." Joseph clasped John by both shoulders, his eyes full of conviction, of faith in HIM, "I know you will." With that Joseph departed, leaving him with a new task. Not only was John going to help the Project by figuring what made Deputy Donovan tick, but he now had the chance to satisfy his pesky curiosity once and for all.

Yes, it's finally her turn to confess too.

His right hand man, Mathias Bennett, approached him now that his conversation with Joseph was over. "John, we taking this one too? Or is she dead?", he asked refering to the Deputy at their feet. "Alive. But you're keeping your silence about this one. Nobody else is to know. Joseph's orders." "Of course." Mathias made a move to drag Sabrina to the truck waiting on them. "I've got her. Open the door for me." His enforcer watched in bewilderment as John gathered Sabrina in his arms. "The door, Mathias." "Sorry, boss. Just… is this one special?" John gave him a look. "I'm sorry." Mathias strode off and opened the door, not daring to say anything else. "And have someone to take a look at her head when we arrive. The Project needs her alive and coherent." John carried Sabrina to the truck, trying to ignore Mathias' question and what it meant. "Is this one special?"

No. They're all just sinners. A task that would open Eden's Gates for me.

But it got worse… if he didn't know better, he could have sworn he felt her relax in his embrace. He found this thought hard to shake off. That would be a big mistake, Deputy. I'm the last person you should feel safe around.

#wip: in hope of tomorrow #oc: sabrina donovan #wip wednesday #john seed #john seed x sabrina donovan #john seed x female deputy #fc5 #far cry 5 #myedits #mygifs #wip #oc: calahan hartley #fc5 deputy #fc5 ocs #fc5 fandom #far cry 5 oc #far cry 5 deputy #far cry 5 fandom #joseph seed #oc character #original characters #hope county #wip stuff #character inspiration #gifs #edits

[paperweight-inshadesofgreige]

⋆ dying is easy, living is harder ⋆

characters ☆ alexander hamilton, elizabeth schuyler, angelica hamilton, alexander hamilton jr. pairings ☆ none

tws ☆ minor character death, suicidal thoughts

christmas gift 4 y'all !! a month after philip's death, alexander tries to have a normal christmas. nothing goes according to plan. scheduled post; i'm on a trip so i'll add + post the ao3 work once i get back

fic under cut

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Hushed noises. Alexander lifted his head, his gaze shifting from his documents to the door of his office, his ears perking up.

“Lexi, go call the others. It’s time for dinner,” Eliza’s tone was gentle. Alexander missed it. She barely spoke to him anymore, and even if she did, it was with a sharp edge. Alexander didn’t blame her.

Footsteps, most likely Lexi sprinting upstairs. Alexander sighed and stood up, setting his quill aside.

Eliza’s head turned as Alexander exited his office. The look in her eyes was cold, similar to her voice. “You are not having dinner with us.”

“What?” Alexander was taken aback by the words, confusion and surprise settling on his face as he stared at the other.

“I said, you are not staying for dinner. You can go dine somewhere else, but I’d like to spend Christmas with family, people I actually trust,” Eliza hissed, glaring at him. Slowly, Alexander nodded, swallowing as he felt a pang in his chest.

“Of course,” mumbling, he headed towards the front door, grabbing his coat on the way out. He could feel Eliza’s burning gaze fixed on him, but he didn’t turn.

After all, it wouldn’t change anything.

Alexander inhaled sharply as the cold winter air hit his face. At least the snowing had stopped, he remarked as he walked down the street, unsure about where to go.

Laughter echoed in the air, church bells ringing as he passed houses, light and warmth radiating from each window. Alexander sighed. It was at times like these that he wondered whether publishing the Pamphlet had really been a good idea — maybe he should’ve just let others assume what they wanted to, even if it would cost him his career and his reputation.

No. Alexander waved the thoughts off with a shake of his head. What was done was done — no matter how badly he wished, there was no erasing the past.

Alexander lifted his head and halted. His eyes darted around, his lips slightly parted as he studied the familiar building.

Fraunces Tavern.

Alexander stood there, frozen in place as multiple memories came flooding back. That night with Burr, Laf, Herc and John. Alexander still remembered the joy and confidence he had felt upon finding others with similar ideals as his. For the first time after stepping foot on this unfamiliar land he had felt as if he belonged here.

He also remembered the way his heart had ached for John as Washington had congratulated them in the same spot nearly seven years after. The way he had turned to his side, started a sentence before realizing that the other wasn’t there.

That he would never be there again.

His mind lingered on John, his lover’s face flashing in Alexander’s mind. That soft, fluffy hair, those freckles spilled across his body like stars that his eyes couldn’t hold. That calm, gentle voice, those kissable lips—

Alexander blinked, forcing himself to snap out of it. He stared at the Tavern, considering entering. He could just walk in, order some food and a drink, maybe a few more of the latter until the alcohol drowned out all of his thoughts.

However, his steps led him away, his breathing forming a cloud of mist in the air as he resumed his walk. He wasn’t hungry, and deep inside, he knew that this wasn’t a night he’d like to spend drunk.

✮ 

After half an hour of wandering, Alexander stopped again, shocked. How- why had his legs led him here? It wasn’t like anyone he knew was buried here—

Alexander sucked in a sharp breath which got caught in his throat. His chest felt incredibly tight as he advanced, the snow crunching under his feet. He passed grave after grave until—

“Heartless.”

“How could he be so cruel?”

“He didn’t even bat an eye — god.”

The whispers had circled him for the following week. No one had said it aloud, but they were all referring to one thing: “Alexander Hamilton didn’t shed a single tear at his son’s funeral.”

Alexander ran a hand across the top of the engraved stone. It was cold to the touch. A chuckle left him as he raked his hand through his hair, slumping down against the stone with a a sigh.

Oh, those idiots, he thought, closing his eyes. Don’t they realize I did my best to keep my composure only for them?

He had stood up straight, had greeted everyone, had kept his voice stable. You had to be quite close to him to have realized the way he had swayed, Eliza being the only thing keeping him upright as they had approached Philip’s grave. Alexander hadn’t cried. Everyone else had.

He sighed again, pulling his knees up to his chest. The cold numbed his fingers. Maybe his lack of tears was the reason Eliza didn’t even try to tolerate him anymore.

Alexander opened his eyes, gazing at the dark sky. It had stormed, the day of the funeral. For the first time since the hurricane, he hadn’t felt scared, even when thunder had boomed, reminding him of the British cannons that he used to steal.

A shiver tore through his body. Regret and sorrow carved a hole into his chest, his breathing shallow as he remembered how he had advised Philip to throw away his shot. That had turned out well, hadn’t it?

Alexander closed his eyes again as his mind grew foggy. For a moment, he considered just staying there for the night, fading away with the cold. After all, everyone who loved him had died — why not join the chain?

A gust of wind blew by. Alexander felt snowflakes land on his raised face. It had started snowing again, the slow falling holding the potentials of turning into a snowstorm.

He sighed. Not tonight.

With a groan, Alexander arose, releasing a breath he had been holding. Eliza and the children must’ve finished dinner by now, perhaps even had the time to enjoy some music. Ange’s piano skills had improved quite a lot.

However, Alexander’s train of thoughts paused as he remembered the state Ange had fallen into after her older brother had passed. The two were always close, and she had been affected the most out of the children, spending the days talking to herself in her room. Not unlike him, he remarked as he walked away.

Alexander looked back one last time, his eyes lingering on Philip’s name before he headed out, pulling the door of the graveyard closed behind him.

Wind ruffled his hair as he trudged along the street. A couple passed him, their conversation pausing as they glared at him.

“Honestly, he should just leave the neighbourhood,” he heard one of them mumble. Alexander hummed.

It would be quiet uptown.

#whump #hamilton whump #hamilton fanfiction

[bsaka7]

Pierresteban... mermaid.... au...not!fic. W/ @leclercenjoyer... From these gifs... proof i can be trope-y...in the right mood...

it starts when they're kids. pierre is the fifth son of a family of hardworking fisherman. he knows there will be no inheritance for him. his third brother is joining the church and everyone is hoping pierre can do well enough at school to do that too! because the oldest son will inherit the fishing boat and he already has a girl who he might marry. they live in a little house near the outskirts of town the closest to the sea and when the sea rages they can watch the wall of water crash against the rocks from the back stoop.

of course. this pierre loves the water like everyone in his family, loves to be out at sea. when the tide is out, pierre goes down to the seashore and digs through the tide pools. one day he comes upon a cove that he swears he has never seen before and he has explored this whole shore even though he is only seven. the sun is not yet low in the sky so he ducks in to explore and there splashing in the pool is....baby (well. 6yrs old) este!! who is so scrawny.

este is a mermaid obv there some vague and bastardized mythology behind all of this but we're ignoring that for now. he's the only child of a hardworking mermaid couple etc he loves to dive and race and swim with schools of fish he's also intrigued by land and he's more adventurous than he should be... u guys know the vibe.

pierre spends the whole rest of the spring ducking into the cove and the days are only getting longer. and then summer when hes on the boat with his father and brothers he's always searching and searching for este, thinking he sees him out over the crests of the waves. they are the best of friends and pierre cannot tell anyone except for his best friend charles who lives on the other side of town and his father is...idk?? the pastor??? they aren't catholics he can have kids. and charles understands pierre at school and they compete in every subject but he doesn't understand the sea. anyway. Pierre and esteban can only meet when pierre comes to the sea...seperate worlds so close yet so far. when times are hard times are hard for them both bc they both depend on the sea for their life etc...

[scene where pierre sneaks out in the little rowboat to meet este and gets in trouble]

they grow up and then they DRIFT as you would expect because pierre is getting older and he has to get a scholarship now to the university or else he has to find a girl to marry or smth but he doesnt WANT to because hes too young and anywhere theres always esteban. and esteban is busy with his own life in the sea he's growing up and hoping to fulfill some exploration role but he's a long shot at it... They're starting to resent each other for missing meetings.

pierre goes inland for GOOD to go to school when hes like sixteen and he sees esteban one winter day home for christmas break and the sea is churning and esteban barely even looks at him. and it sucks!!! and no one knows how even felt...

but he comes back for the whole summer when hes older and his parents have passed away. he's back to help his brother put their things in order and because he's the baby and he loved them. and he spends a lot of time looking out at the sea and maybe once has to take the boat out by himself and there's esteban, skipping alongside the boat, who looks like he's finally grown into his skin.

Pierre anchors and climbs out of his boat into the shallow warm water and pierre can swim but not strongly anymore and he's weak from the city air. pierre can feel este's tail against his legs and they're clutching each other and esteban is laughing and its -- its like they're kids again but its BETTER because they know who they are better. esteban is the one to kiss pierre and pierre kisses BACK and then eventually he has to go home and he's so giddy and joyful that his brother and his wife are making faces at each other. pierre just plays with the kids and the dog in front of the fireplace. they're so happy to see him like this. and he goes out and sees esteban again and again that summer, before idk he starts some job at the law firm in the city and learns about estebans life in the sea. when he's in town all he does is miss esteban. there's a girl he's supposed to marry maybe but he never asks for her hand in marriage so she marries someone else and charles settles down in the capital

of COURSE since this is a mock fairytale he has to come back to that town he grew up in. he's not meant to be a fisherman but maybe he takes over the shop after the keeper falls too ill, and he's good at that too. he has money stashed away from his work in the city and he's dressed a little different. maybe he starts donating books to the school. and he goes out to the cove -- their cove -- in the evenings, just to remember.

eventually esteban is there too. and pierre's feet are bare and in the water, and esteban lays up against the rock and listens to pierre read and then tells him his own stories of the sea. its not quite a happy ending because they can never be together and pierre is getting older and getting lonely. and esteban at home in the sea his family has always thought he wanted everything too badly, the exploring job he got and then lost, to know what it's like on land.

after so many years of wondering, and fights back and forth, and missing each other, straddling that space between land and sea, pierre asks if its true. that mermaids can leave the sea but cannot speak until they find their true love (little mermaid #baller). esteban tells him some tale and the answer is: yes.

pierre asks him if he's willing to try it and esteban disappears for months. and the town watches pierre fade away sadder and sadder. his brother tells him they can take on the shop if he wants to go back to the city but pierre just shakes his head. eventually he takes a boat out, a tiny dinghy and goes out to the sea to search for esteban because he can't. leave it like this. again. he can tell esteban they can go back to like it was. they don't have to fight.

but of course theres a STORM the wind whipping and pierre is cold and his mouth is caked with salt, his boat falling apart at the seams. eventually he capsizes and is clinging to whats left of the hull and then a wave sucks him under and he loses it and he's sputtering and he thinks hes going to die. who is there bringing him to the surface but esteban? esteban who heard his cry and swum as fast as he could from his home. esteban who loves him.

pierre is unconcious as esteban swims him back to the cove. and hes like coughing weakly and esteban is wrapped around him because he's not warm and his tail is scaly but hes warmer than the water and that has to be good enough right? and pierre is like. "este?" and esteban is like. "right here." and he's not going to apologize because he never apologizes. but pierre looks at him and it feels like forgiveness. PIERRE apologizes instead right there and says he's sorry for asking and esteban says. i couldn't lose my family forever. i couldn't lose my voice. and pierre is like. okay.

things go back to normal. pierre's shop never runs out of sugar again and his prices are always just a little too low like he's been blessed by something. and he sees esteban in the cove no matter the wind and the weather. And then... I think eventually esteban DOES decide to trust pierre enough to come to land to give it all up even though he shouldn't have to.

Esteban steps out of the water and pierre is mad at him because esteban never said he'd be so tall and then they KISS and esteban can SPEAK because they both wanted each other to be enough but never thought it would be the truth enough to try until now. and of course esteban has to put on pierre's clothes which are all too short and everyone is confused about this new man with a soft voice and a lilting accent. pierre says he's from the city but everyone can tell he's from the sea. he works the boat with pierre's brother and charles comes to visit and teaches him to write in their language, and not the language of the sea.

They're both a kind of happy that can't be explained, moody and changing and sometimes frightening. esteban stays with pierre in the room above the shop even though it's too small for both of them. and no one quite understands but they accept it, even when pierre and esteban fight loud enough that the whole town can hear it, even when esteban disappears for a week and pierre say it's to the city but everyone wonders if the stories are true. and esteban is visiting home.

THE END.

#I would never write cuz it's like. Ooc for me I guess. They aren't competitive enough #Also like idk why I've been in a mermaid mode #But bc of that. I'll share it with you guys lol #But it's a vibe etc. #You might get another footie au notfic one of these days #Bc its good plot wise but too long to write

[whathas4letters]

My thought on Chainsawman part 2 so far

This, this comment right here, is exactly what I'm feeling right now. At fist, i actually pretty enjoy part 2, but I can pinpoint exact the chapter when shit start to go downhill: chapter 132. This is when the story goes from a story with mysteries and unknow solution to story with unnecessary drama and obvious solution.

-First, this dumbass(I said what I said):

I was honestly kinda in disbelief when I read this chapter with how dumb Yoshida acts. Honey, baby, darling, you're dealing with freaking DENJI and NAYUTA, literally THE Chainsawman himself and THE Makima’s reincarnation herself. What are he and Public safety even gonna DO???? Kill them??? How???? One is immortal and one is powerful enough she've JUST fucked up a demon from hell for funsie. Even with Quanxi alive and what not, those 2 are objectively the strongest in the story right now. What in the world does he have to threaten them????

Do it, I like to see you try octo boy. You're lucky Nayuta spared you despite your arresting her right in her school.

All those time stalking Denji and you think blackmail him is the way to go? Yoshida, what do you even do during those stalking??? That guy is going around killing devil FOR FREE, have to do side job to provide 10 mouths, doesn't have friend nor lover. His life is as miserable as it can be and you're here kidnap his sister, strip him and threat him to quit his job or else him that you'll kill his only family? Did you forget what he did to the last person did that to him? It's stupid and baseless action.

What Yoshida can do:

-provide whatever the bare minimum Denji can think of.

What he can't do:

-kill either Denji or Nayuta

So idk where does he find the unearned confidence that he can negotiate with Denji with violence. Big dumb move from Yoshida and public safety. All you need to do is sweet talk him into quitting, idiot.

-Second, Fami:

Girl what are you even doing? None of her plan work so I can't take her seriously. Reviving Yuko? Doesn't matter, she's dead. Infinity devil? Failed. Fall devil? Failed. Recruiting Asa? The weapons are actively go against her promise to weaken CSM so this probably won't work out. Her motivation is hard to take seriously too. So unless she has something up her sleeve, so far i can't take any interest in her.

-Quanxi:

Do you understand how much the power scale just change after this?

She just singlehandedly rendered BOTH Denji and Asa useless power and narrative wise. What Asa's doing rn? Posing under CSM church to hunt devil so CSM doesn't have to fight. Now with this, it shifts to the church vs public safety with greatly power difference. What Denji's doing rn? Struggling between his 2 identities and is challenged by the weapons to choose to turn into CSM or watch ppl di-aaand doesn't matter, Quanxi appeared and killed them all. Whoops. Quanxi is defintely stronger than Asa and Yoru rn and she does Denji's job just as well. So I don't see what's Denji and Asa gonna do that gonna affect much in the future without meaningless death involved.

Hey, remember Justice devil? Ya know, one of Asa's plot line? No? Then how about fake Chainsawman? Yes? Now with Quanxi and potentially Reze back, do you think anyone else will pay attention to a faceless poser? Remember Asa and Denji's relationship? Well she's high on fame and he has a groomer fangirl that actually like him for who he is. Remember Yoru wants to wage war? Well now with Quanxi in the picture, good luck with that. Remember Yoshida? He's just a dumbass who's there to provide plot device and exposition now. Remember Fami? Anything and everything she does so far failed and we still doens't know what she can actually do. Remember the Weapo- nevermind they're done for.

Do you see the problem here????? Everything involved either of the main character doesn't matter anymore. Nothing was built at the beginning of part 2 is relevant anymore. Anything is worth to be considered a threat is gone. Yoru is nowhere near a threat since she's weaker than every devil appeared so far. Fami is there. Yoshida talks about shit he has no power over. The church's most potential threat get off before they can even become a threat. Any devil from hell can appear will be taken care of by Nayuta. Any devil in real world can appear will be taken care of by Quanxi and co. Fake Chainsawman is there and doesn't seem to be a threat since he helped Denji.

Soooo.....what are Asa and Denji gonna do now? Beside moping about themselves? I can see something happen but the set up after chapter 132 kinda poorly done that I fear the payoff, no matter how good it can be, will leave me feel lacking.

#chainsawman part 2 #csm denji #asa csm #yoru #yoshida #quanxi #I will fight anyone saying that part 2 is bad but I'll kiss them if they say it fells off after 132 cos that's the truth #I'll still read it but Fujimoto better knows that he's one foot in the mud rn #let him cook but fully expect it to burn and bland #Still #in Fujimoto I still have hope

[forestgreenfairy]

A Teenage Kind of Love (salvis)

Episode one 

(Travis) 

My alarm clock blares as I blindly grasp around my side table desperate to stop the noise before I disturb the peace that is my house before the hour of 7am. Before I can turn it off there's a loud thud on my wall. 

"Travis, turn that shit off" my dad yells from the next room. Shit. he's up.

I finally get the damn thing to turn off and throw my legs over the edge of my bed rubbing my eyes. The floors are cold underneath my feet and send goosebumps up my legs that travel to my arms. 

I shuffle around my cramped room collecting my things for school and slowly throwing on my clothes. A white collared shirt then my favorite purple sweater and some shorts. I head to the bathroom to brush my teeth and brush my hair perfectly into place. Lastly, I put on my golden roserie and make my way downstairs. 

I reach the bottom and stair at the empty kitchen. All love and warmth it held now stripped away by the absence of my mother.Ever since moms have been gone the kitchen seems so cold and lonely. She was always there making me breakfast or sitting at the dining room table reading. I barely leave my room when I'm home anymore. 

"Travis let's go" I hear my father say behind me in a monotone voice. I step outside and the air rushes through my thin old sweater and bites at my exposed ankles. If my mother were here she would be highly against my wearing of shorts in late fall, but she isnt so i continue on. 

The car ride to school is silent. Recently it's been this way: a car ride that was usually full of conversation and happy words from my mother was now filled with a deafening silence between me and my father.

Once I arrive at school I begin to relax. You see this is the one place in the whole world where I wont get pushed around by my father or the church. Here I am the one who does the pushing, the judging, I'm the one who gets to be mean. The only thing I don't enjoy is the amount of quiet in class. It gives so much time to think, and I hardly ever think about what I'm supposed to do. My usual topics of thought are him and the church. To avoid this I often try to think of nothing and end up disciating for most of my classes. 

My teachers may describe me as "the perfect student" and "a pleasure to have in class" but I'm never fully present in class. Sure my body is there and I'm going through the motions of work and notes but my mind is never fully present. I'm always thinking of other things or just zoned out completely. I try not to think of other things because then I'll think of him. 

It's the third period. English. My teacher goes on about some assignments that are due while I find my way to the back of the room. 

"Write a letter to someone you would never usually talk to, or something you would never say to them," she says, passing out sheets of lined paper.

I pull out my pen and begin writing. Again not in my head off somewhere else. When I finally refocus my teacher is over my shoulder reading.

"Wow Travis, that's very powerful," she says, then promising not to tell anyone and everything I write in her class is confidential. I then realized what I wrote. 

Oh shit.

The letter reads :

"I know we don't really know each other and you probably have your opinions of me. I thought maybe if I told you how I feel, things could be different. The truth is, I can't stop thinking about you. I'm crazy about you. but I know these feelings I have about you are wrong. Their not the way a boy should feel shame swallows me whole just writing these words.

My father would kill me but I can't hide in his shadow forever I just"

I scribble out the rest not being able to read anymore without vomiting out of disgust and fear. My heart is pounding inside my chest and echoes in my brain, nervous my teacher would break her promise. 

I wait until everyone's left and it's just me and her in the class. I walk up to her desk gripping the letter in my hands.

"Travis that letter was beautiful" she smiles placing her hands on her dress.

"Tell anyone and I swear to god" I cut myself off when I see her face. She backed away from me and looks as though she's sad. I'm just like my father, using my words and actions to scare people into silence. 

"Just don't tell anyone okay" her face relaxes and she nods. 

God, I'm such a f@g; I can't even stand up to a woman. Who am I kidding? In my eyes women are the strongest people on this earth, they have to put up with men and pretend to like it. I wish I could be normal and marry a woman one day. Show her true love. Give her everything my mother never got. I won't wish, I will. 

4th-period math. He's there. His face is hidden behind that mask of his but that can't hide his personality or his silky beautiful hair. Fuck. 

I sit in front of him so I don't have to look at him, But the images of him are burned in the back of my eyes. I could recall every last detail about his stupid mask and his stupid hair. Our teacher passes out the test and I quickly finish, not sure if I got any questions right and sneak a peek at him. He's sleeping. He looks so perfect, At true peace. No. Rage fills my body. He's the reason I'm like this. He's just another fairy who leads good men like me to lifes of sin and despair. I just have to get past this time in my life and di will reach eternal holiness

After class, I see him and his f@ggy friends. I hate them. They get to be happy when I'm suffering because of them. 

As they walk by I just can't  help but comment  "hey freak"

He turns to me and his eyes look upset.

"Nobody likes a goody-two-shoes scaly face," I say, crossing my arms.

"Nobody likes a cliche bully Tra Davis" he says prolonging the a in my name just like I did his. 

Ash scoffs "don't you have something better to do?" Crossing her arms and rolling her eyes mocking me. I immediately stand straight. 

"Shut up bitch I wasn't talking to you" I spit. Her hatred for me is palpable

"You know if you took that stick out of your ass you may actually enjoy yourself for once." He pauses "Mabey make a friend or two" I don't have any friends, that's true but I won't let him talk to me that way.

"Fuck off F@got I have more friends than you'll ever have" I lie. The words burning my throat. It's a sin to lie.

"You kiss your daddy with that tongue I'm sure he-" Suddenly I'm out of my body watching myself in slow motion as I hit his stupid mask. Blood drips off the bottom of his mask onto the floor.Ash screams and it is all a blur. 

He didn't hit me back but I can feel tears swell in my eyes as I speed off to the bathroom. I look at myself in the mirror. I look pathetic. I didn't even get hit and I'm crying. My hair is starting to move from its designated spot. My eyes are red and swollen, one of them bruised. 

Fuck.

I pull the letter out of my pocket reading it over 3 or 4 times. I crumple it up and throw it in the trash as I make my way to the big stall.I slam It shut and lean against the wall sliding down until I'm on the floor. I hate that I feel this way. Tears welt in my eyes and fall from my face to the ground.The door opens and someone walks in. I wipe the tears from my face on my sweater

"Anyone in there" it's Sally's face.

"No duh fuckwad buzz off," I say sniffling.

"Travis, were you just crying a second  ago?" The truth is I was but why would I tell him that? Let him know what a weak sissy I am.

"No- I uh can't a guy have some privacy?" I say leaning my head against the wall 

"It's okay for you to have emotions" he breathes in this calming voice that sends shivers down my spine. I can hear him sliding down the wall to sit on the floor next to me. just the stall door dividing us.

"Yeah for queers just leave me alone all right?" I yell, wiping more tears from my face. 

"Why do you hate me so much?" God. I don't hate him at all, quite the opposite. But it's a sin. 

"Cause you and your friends are a bunch of homos! It's sick! God will never love you, why should I?" I spit looking at the door knowing on the other side is a boy who means no harm. 

"You know we're not all actually gay right? I mean except for Todd. Todd's super gay. but that's part of who he is and I think it's wonderful and it's part of who he is. He's one of the kindest people I know. How could anyone hate Todd?" And even if I wasn't a sin he's not gay.  

"Ugh" is all I can mutter without bursting into tears.

"Is your father pushing these beliefs on you?" He asks. I AM NOTHING LIKE MY FATHER! I think I will recover. 

"Just because my dad is a preacher doesn't mean he owns me! I'm my own person!" I exclaim out of breath. I'm angry and sad and confused.

He slips a piece of paper under the stall door. It's his address. I pick it up and read it over and over again. 

"If you ever wanna hang out.... Me and larry are always at the apartments" he says 

"I don't want this" I slip it back under the door but I've already memorized it.

"Whatever you say" he gets up and leaves the bathroom. 

After I've collected myself I get up and leave

#salvis #sally face #fanfic #travis phelps

[nysocboy]

Gemstones Episode 3.6: BJ boxes, Keefe learns about hard wood, and Kelvin gets a girlfriend

Title: "For Out of the Heart Come Evil Thoughts." Matthew 15:19: "For out of the heart come evil thoughts, murders, adulteries, fornications, thefts, false witness, blasphemies." We don't need to match the Gemstone with the sin: they are all guilty of false witness, lying to others or to themselves.

How to Make Things Right: BJ didn't move out, after all,  but the two are barely speaking. Judy asks what she can do to make things right. He doesn't know.  She is despondent. Remember that in 2000, she worried that she would never find anyone who would love her.  It took 18 years, but she finally found someone, and now it's over.

The Montgomery Boys Leave:  At Eli's mansion, the Montgomerys thank the family for "straightening them out."   Kelvin suggests that it happened "when we dressed them up."  That sounds like a gay reference. 

Jesse says "They're ready to f*k": their next steps should be girlfriends,  intercourse, wives and kids, the whole heterosexual trajectory.  To start them out, he gives them his monster truck, the Redeemer.

 As they drive away, Kelvin takes off his "wedding ring."  If he leaves it off, the relationship will really be over.  He'll be single again.  He puts it back on.  But maybe he is thinking of a heterosexual trajectory of his own. 

Taryn is Back: We cut to Kelvin introducing Taryn, who we last saw at Keefe's "wieners and ice cream" party, as his new assistant youth pastor.  A kid asks about Keefe, and he gets all bitchy: "He is leaving to pursue other opportunities.  Not even sure why you keep bringing that up!" -- while fiddling with his wedding ring again.  He continues to fiddle -- and look despondent -- as Taryn leads the kids in a dance. 

Paying off the Scandal:  The siblings meet with Stephen, his wife, and their lawyer.  They want $500,000 for "damages and emotional distress," or the affair goes viral.   Martin suggests paying the money, along with an apology.  Kelvin must be wondering: if it's worth $500,000 to keep an extramarital affair under wraps, how much damage would he cause the church by coming out  -- or being outed.  He doesn't like Taryn in that way -- he doesn't like women in that way -- but what choice does he have?  

After scenes where Baby Billy and Jesse discuss the hologram Aimee-Leigh idea, and BJ stalks Stephen, Kelvin tries to find out if the relationship is really over.

The First Reconciliation Attempt:  We find Keefe working at Woodpecker's Carpentry.  Wood-pecker, har har, the first of many phallic references in this scene.  His earring, necklaces, and rings are gone -- for safety, or to keep closeted?  

Suddenly Kelvin appears. Looking around nervously, Keefe asks "Brother Kelvin, what are you doing here?" Note that he uses formal titles to reaffirm that they have broken up: they are just pastor and parishioner.  No doubt he's worried that Kelvin will out him by referencing their relationship or just being flamboyant.  Kelvin does try his usual titty-tweak, but Keefe doesn't respond.  You're broken up!  You're not allowed to take liberties anymore!

Gay joke: "Master Bishop has taught me a lot in the ways of hard wood." Tell me more about your...um...hard wood.  The odd title "Master," not used for master carpeters, led some fans to speculate that he and Keefer were involved in a BDSM relationship. 

 Wait -- how long has he worked there?  Surely it's only been a few days since the breakup.

Kelvin asks "Have you found happiness?" An odd question. Why not just ask if he likes his new job.?  Keefe says that he has, but of course he's lying.  He's busy working on a reconciliation rocking chair.  He uses the  punching gesture that straight guys sometimes use to ward off physical contact: a bro-hug would be too painful.

Apparently Kelvin expected Keefe to be crying and miserable, lost without him, like in the Season 1 breakup.  Seeing that his ex is doing ok, he becomes bitchy, denigrating the carpentry job and declaring that he's having lots of fun with Taryn: "everybody loves her...no one misses you at all." The happiness facade fails: Keefe frowns and orders him to leave. 

We cut to Judy asking Eli for the bribe money. He exclaims "Can't you children figure out your lives?" and refuses.  

Then the Montgomery Boys zoom the Redeemer into Peter's new militia compound, claiming that they stole it.  But in Episode 2, he sent goons to kill them.  When did they start working for him again?

BJ bursts into tears while working at his Church Welcome Center job. Jesse and his crew sympathize: Stephen has cuckolded him, taken away his power.  He needs to fight the guy, "knock his dick in the dirt, show him who is the man."  

They take him down to the basement for punching-bag training.

Meanwhile, Amber invites Judy to her support group for wives whose husbands have cheated. She's actually a wife who has cheated on her husband, but still, the advice may be relevant.  The other wives relate how their partners worked hard for months to regain  their trust.  

Judy balks: so the cheater has to show remorse forever until their partner decides, on a whim, to forgive them?  There's no schedule, no list of things to accomplish, no way to know how close they are to forgiveness?  Nope.   

Left: Boxer Hugo Hernan aray

After the Rain: At the youth group, Taryn is bouncing on the trampoline, while Kelvin looks on,  despondent.  Shouldn't the kids get a chance to play on it?  

Kelvin's turn: he bounces toward the ceiling, still looking despondent, while Nelson's "After the Rain" plays:

He never really loved you from the start.

The only thng he ever gave you was a broken heart.

Don't be afraid to lose what was never meant to be.

Only after the rain can you find true love again.

So Kelvin has to get over Keefe to find true love?  But there are no other gay guys around..just Taryn...uh-oh....

Later, after the kids are gone, they are putting gym mats away.  Kelvin says that he was "working some stuff out" while somsersaulting. The staging suggests that he has worked out a way to stay in the closet by adopting a heterosexual facade.  The first step will be asking Taryn for a date.

 He's smiling, complimenting her, setting the scene.  They discuss how to get kids into physical fitness by making it fun, sort of like putting cheese on their broccoli so they'll eat it.  In a parallel, is he trying to use physical fitness to make a heterosexual relationship palatable?

But be careful, Kelv Baby.  In this universe, cheating on your true love is the worst sin imaginable.  It doesn't matter that Keefe broke up with you.  It doesn't matter that Taryn would save you from being outed.  If you stray, you will be punished. 

This is definitely the nadir of the Kelvin/Keefe relationship.  Even after seeing the entire season, knowing what is going to happen, I'm starting to get anxious.

But on the bright side, does anyone still doubt that they were a romantic couple?

Ok, ok, I'll post another boxer.

The full review, with nude photos and explicit sexual discussions, is on RG Beefcake and Boyfriends

#the righteous gemstones #keefe chambers #kelvin x keefe #adam devine #tony cavalero #BJ Barnes #Tim Baltz #Taryn #heterosexism