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eyesxxyou · 6 months

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Confessions pt.iii

♡ hobie brown x religious!reader

rating. m

word count. 7.7k

synopsis. after years of being missing, Hobie finally returns back to his hometown where his childhood crush still waits for him. but you're more dedicated to God than ever and he couldn't care less. he wants you and he intends show you all that you're missing out on

♡ °｡ ⋆⸜ warning: religious themes, straight up blasphemy, like serious sacrilege, abuse, a lot of angst, oral (m.recieving), mentions of other sexual acts (such as fingering, cumming in chest, masturbation, and outercourse), sex in church, riding, first time sex, squirting, confessions ;))), disownment, Hobie being a bit of an avoidant asshole

Part.ii

Hobie let you keep the pictures you took. “So you have something better to touch yourself to at night.” He winked at you as he neatly tucked the two pictures into your bra. Anywhere else, your parents might have found them. He was always thinking ahead, maybe a little further than you.

When Hobie took you home, he told you to tell your parents that the two of you went to the creek for bible study. You’ve never lied to your parents before. You weren’t sure you could do it. You wrung your hands against the gas tank of his motorcycle, the cold air whipping at your face as you flew down the streets. The streetlights were coming on, you had to be home soon. Hobie got you there in record time. Of course, breaking a few traffic laws along the way but he got you there.

You hopped off his bike, readjusting yourself and ensuring that you looked just the same as you did before you left. Hobie offered you back your rosary which you had almost forgotten completely and when you reached out for it, he grabbed your hand. “I don’ wanna wait ‘til next Sunday to see ya, luv. When do y’think we’ll have anotha bible study?”

You looked back at the front door to your house to find a shadow walking through the living room towards the front door. You took your rosary and retracted your hand quickly. “Tuesday after I get off of work. Now go, before they try to invite you inside.”

“I might’ jus’ stay then.”

You hit him on the shoulder and he laughed softly, eyeing the door cracking open over your shoulder. “I’ll see ya Tuesday, then. Keep yaself busy while ‘m gone.” He teased before ripping away on his motorcycle, leaving you flustered and overly aware of the two polaroid pictures pressed against your breast.

“Did he not want to come inside? I made dinner.” Your mother called from the front door. You looked back at her and shook your head. “No, Mama, he has to get somewhere.” You made your way inside. You kept your head low. You set your rosary down on the coffee table and removed your shoes beside the door, replacing them with house slippers.

Your father was already in the dining room eating and as you passed him, he stopped you with a question. “Where were you at?”

Your heart raced and your mouth dried up. You grabbed at your dress then fiddled with a braid from your hair. “With Hobie at the old playground. He finally opened up to listening to the word so I thought it might be good to do bible study together.” You glanced up to look at him, your eyes pleading for approval. You’ve never lied to them before and they had no reason to believe you were lying now.

“How often will you be doing bible studies?” Your mother asked. Your father continued eating, neither of them suspected a thing. You almost felt powerful, being able to keep this one thing to yourself. You knew something they didn't and it felt like a sort of control you were never before allowed in your life. You didn’t even feel guilty about it.

“Every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday.” It came out of you so easily. You stopped trembling and fiddling with yourself and went to go make yourself a plate.

That was the beginning of it, the beginning of everything. The lying, meeting with Hobie, exploring the pleasures of the body with him in the secret of his hotel room. You became someone new behind that door, every moment of it captured by his camera and printed out on his bed for you to later keep. He made you cum in ways you never knew was possible and you learned slowly how to make him cum too.

“Jus’ like– fuck, dove….ngh~ shit.” You sat between his legs with your lips wrapped around the head of his cock, suckling and kissing. You haven’t gone any further than that for the past 2 minutes, too intimidated by his monstrous size to take any more of him into your mouth. “Jus’ a lil’ more tongue,” He hissed when you followed his command, your tongue timidly flicking from the underside of his tip to the end of his slit. You were a natural at this.

He had you bobbing your head soon enough, his hand on the back of your head to guide your motions. "Open tha’ mouth of ya’s a lil’ more, luv.” You opened your mouth a little further and kept your teeth back like he told you to. You hummed softly and it sent Hobie into a spiral.

You had him moaning, a hand pushing your head up and down on his fat cock, that pretty, little mouth of yours only able to go a little under half way before you began to gag. He grabbed his camera. "Look a' me, pretty girl." Your wet gaze flickered up at him, teary and gorgeous, drool dribbling down the rest of his cock. And when he came, he came, he pulled out from your mouth, jerking off over your face with your tongue hanging out of your mouth while he groaned your name and cursed you for being so pretty.

He came on your face, across your cheek, one of your eyes closed so it didn't get in, some landing on your tongue. He took a picture of that as well, letting the picture print out before grabbing your chin and slapping his cock against your cheek. "You're such a good, fuckin' girl."

Your heart always fluttered when he praised you, each meeting only solidifying what was always there, hiding beneath your love for God which was really only a redirection of your love for him. Did he notice the way you looked at him like he was Christ on Earth, the way you looked at him like he was all you ever wanted in your life. He couldn't be oblivious to the way you worshiped him, like he was your very own messiah.

He's shown you more in a few weeks than God has ever shown you in your entire life. He's shown you pleasures you never before thought existed, done things to you you never wanted anyone else to do. Yet, the two of you still have never had sex in the traditional sense. You've been close, let him rub his cock against your bare clit until you both came, but he never pushed into you, never broke your hymen as you were told happens when you have sex for the first time.

It made you feel better. Made you feel like if this all hit the fan, at least you'd have some semblance of your dignity still left with you, you wouldn't be completely ruined by him. As much as you loved Hobie, you did not trust him entirely to stay, did not trust him not to break your heart.

But you had to ask. Why didn't he want to? He never showed any interest at all to slide himself inside you and claim you as his. Did he truly mean to leave soon? Was it a kindness he was attempting to offer you?"

"Why don't you want to have sex with me… real sex, I mean?" You asked in something of a whisper as you lay in his bed naked, wrapped up in his sheets while he stood in his bathroom to wet a rag to clean you up. He had jerked himself over you and came on your chest because he liked your tits more than you could ever imagine and needed to see his cum on them. He had snapped a picture of it, of course, let you keep it. You’d take it home and store it in a shoebox tucked away in your closet, waiting until your parents were surely asleep before you took it out and chose one to touch yourself to.

Hobie never answered you, just shook his head and murmured something under your breath. “I's almost time for you to go home, isn’ i’? Le’s get’cha cleaned up, doll.” He left you to all your wild conclusions. He was going to leave soon, you figured. He was just trying to preserve something for you, let you have this one thing he hasn’t selfishly taken from you. At least now, clumsy touching down your body when you get married wouldn't be enough to impress you, not when you've felt the skillful hands of Hobie all over your body.

The ride back home was silent. There was a sudden distance between the two of you. Hobie had bought you your very own helmet after you voiced your own concerns about safety. Would he use this for another girl he meets once he leaves? The thought made your heart squeeze.

In front of your house, you hopped off of his bike and removed your helmet so he could strap it to the side of his motorcycle. Hobie could see the space you had placed between you two and attempted to backtrack to a time when you hadn’t become so upset with him.

“I’ll see ya Sunday… righ’, luv?” His voice was so beautiful, so gentle. Your heart soared and swooned for him. You looked him in the eyes and saw his lighthearted smile in them. It forced a smile onto your face. You bit your lips to hide it and twirled your finger around a braid as you nodded. “Fine.”

Hobie would have kissed you if you weren’t outside your parents house so he nodded softly, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he revved up his bike and drove away. You watched him go, letting him round the corner before you turned on your toes and made your way inside the house.

There was no greeting when you came in, no warm smell of cooking in the air. You frowned, not taking the time to remove your shoes as you walked further into the house. “Mama, Daddy? You in here?” You turned the corner into the dining room and found your father sitting at the table with your mother standing behind him and a familiar shoebox sitting in the middle of the table.

Your heart dropped. It sank so low that it boiled in your stomach acid, so low that you thought you might throw it up. You mouth ran dry with fear. "Mama?…Daddy?"

"Get over here." Your father always had a rather authoritarian voice but you had never heard him so angry, so demanding. You lowered your head in shame and slowly, cautiously, made your way to the table, tears already dappling your cheeks. "Sit down." And you sat, your head still hanging low, your tears now falling onto the table and soaking into the tablecloth.

Your father grabbed the box, opened the lid, and dumped all the pictures onto the table. Your lips wrapped around Hobie's cock, his face clearly between your legs, cum on your chest, his long, slender fingers stuffing your cunt, and so much more. All of them incriminating you. Your mother turned her head away, unable to bear the idea of her sweet, innocent daughter participating in such acts.

Your father stood, his hands on the table, his imposing figure looming over you as you trembled beneath him. “Look at me.” His voice was low but dangerous. This was not a time to disobey him. You raised your head slowly, your bottom lip quivering with terror. His gaze was hard and unforgiving. This was not something you just brush off and forgive. How brutal it must be to figure out your daughter is nothing but a whore who’s been lying to you this entire time.

“Is that you in these photos?”

You sniffled, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. You hesitated, unsure of what to say.

“Don’t you even think of lying to me, girl. Is this you?”

You could do nothing except nod and in an instant, he brought his hand across your cheek and struck you. You cupped your aching cheek and sobbed, choking out apologies and begging for forgiveness in near incoherent babbles.

Your father paced the length of the dining room while your mother hurriedly picked up the photos and put them back into the box. She was the one who stumbled upon the photos after looking through your closest for a pair of shoes you had borrowed from her. She had cried as she brought the photos to your father who immediately became enraged. She mourned her young, innocent daughter who would have done no wrong before Hobie came back, her daughter who had fallen so far from grace.

“Honey, you can tell us if he forced you to do any of this.” Your mother so desperately wished you would place all the blame on Hobie, that you’d tell them he had tricked you into performing such acts so that you could still be pure, could still be blameless. No one had to know that way.

How could you do such a thing? You were an adult, you could make your own decisions about these things and you made it. You chose to do everything that happened between you and Hobie. You were just as at fault as he was. But you’d never throw him under the bus

“No, no Hobie didn’t force me to do anything. I made the choice myself.”

“You whore!” Your father barked at you. If your cheek wasn’t already swelling, he would have slapped you again. He paced again a little, running his hands down his face as he always did when he was stressed. Then he turned back to you. “Did you have intercourse?”

You shook your head. “No, we didn’t do…that,” you managed to say between hiccups. You used the backs of your hands to wipe your tears from your cheeks. “Nothing like that.”

“Good, you’re not completely ruined then.” There was something soul-crushing about hearing ones father tell them that they were ruined all because someone made them feel good. But sex ruined people here, you forgot. How absurd the idea seemed now. You didn't feel any less than you did before. In fact, you never felt better about yourself.

“You will not be seeing Hobart again. No talking, no looking, no breathing in his direction. I want zero interaction with him.”

“You can’t do that! I’m an adult!” You stood up from your seat and your father raised his hand to you again, ready to strike you back down. The threat made you sit back down, your lips sealing. Your father smacked his hand on the table in front of you. “You live in my house, you will abide by my rules. You’re acting like an insolent child. You have no idea what you’re doing. You will no longer interact with Hobart, you will no longer be doing anything that is non-essential. You will work, then come home, go to church, then come home. You will do this while your mother and I look for a suitor to take your hand because we cannot trust you to choose someone on your own.”

Shaking your head, you let out a tear-filled yet firm, “No.”

“No?”

“NO!” You refused. You couldn’t imagine a world where you weren’t with Hobie, didn’t belong to him in every way, shape, and form. You’d rather become a nun before you married anyone who wasn’t him. Even if he didn’t feel the same. Maybe he’d leave again, maybe he’d put you in his rearview and find someone else but you’d always have a piece of him in your soul, you’d look at all your favorite things and find him there.

Your father fumed. You’ve never refused him before. It was the devil inside you, he concluded. You have been possessed by a demon because his daughter would never act in such a way. He took you by the bicep and began to drag you through the house and up the stairs to your room.

Your mother said nothing to discourage him, did nothing to stop him. Never before had you ever felt more betrayed. The one person in the world meant to protect you and she simply stood by and watched him brutalize you. His grip would later leave a giant hand-shaped bruise on your arm and your cheek would remain swollen into the next morning.

He tossed you into your room and stood in the doorway with his imposing figure standing above you. “Until you give me my daughter back, you harlot, you will remain in here. Tomorrow, you’re going to burn those pictures in the backyard.” He began to leave before turning back to look at you one last time, “Pray for forgiveness and God will lead you back to Him.”

He left you crying on the ground in your bedroom with the peeling wallpaper and your open closet. You curled up into a ball on the carpeted floor and sobbed to yourself. All you wanted was for Hobie to wrap his arms around you and tell you everything would be okay.

You remained awake late into the night, lying in your small, twin size mattress you’ve had since childhood, Your hands stroked your cheeks where Hobie had held your face and kissed you. It’s always the kisses that really get you, the kisses that stay with you. They feel the most intimate of all the actions performed on you, the way he takes you gently and asks with just his tongue for you to trust him and you do every single time. His kisses felt like love, though you knew better than to label it as such.

You’re half asleep, tracing your lips with your fingertips with dried tears streaking your swollen cheeks when you hear a tap against your window. You thought nothing of it until it happened again, and again, and again. It was very obviously a bird of something tapping its beak against your window but when you turned in your bed, you found that there was no bird, just the moonlight.

Then you saw a pebble fly up and hit your window and knew that the disturbance was not by accident. You tossed your duvet from your body and slid out of bed to go check it out. At the wet end of your house, the familiar figure of Hobie standing beneath your window with a handful of gravel he had picked up from the front of your house. That coy smile of his as he reached into his pile and tossed another pebble at your window before mouthing, “Open up.”

You sighed with utter relief that he was hear. You moved frantically to unlock the window before sliding it open and sticking your head out. “What are you doing here? My father will kill you!” You asked but all you wanted was for him to be here with you with his hands all over you. You wanted him in your bed with you, whispering promises that he’d never leave you again, that everything was okay, that he was just as in love with you as you were with him and that the two of you would run away together.

“I decided I ain’ wanna wait ‘till Sunday t’ see ya again… and my mum cursed me to hell for ‘what I did to ya’.” Hobie shrugged. He dropped all the gravel in his hands and wiped the dust off on his pants. “Can I come up? I’ll jus’ climb the gutter.”

You looked back and listened for a moment. Upon hearing one of your father’s monstrous snores, you looked back to your lover and nodded. “Just be quiet, my parents are sleeping.”

“As a spider, luv, as a spider.”

You watched Hobie carefully climb his way up the side of your house by the gutter. You were surprised by his strength. He was a rather lanky and slender guy but he had a surprising amount of muscle. He was up to your window in no time. You stepped back to give him the space to get inside. He held your window frame and came in feet first before sliding the rest of his body inside.

Your room looked just the same as it did when the two of you were young, the same floral wallpaper, the same pretty white vanity against the wall on the other side of your room across from your bed, covered in makeup and decorations like bows and pearls. Your stuffed animals were now on a shelf rather than on your bed. Your duvet was still the same too, pink and white with roses. It was all so pretty, so delicate, so chaste.

You were in your pajamas, in a pretty, little nightgown that became see-through under the moonlight. He could see the slopes of your body, the dips and curves, the little bows on the sides of your panties. If only he had come under better circumstances.

You rushed him the moment his feet met the floor, tackling him with your arms wrapped around his slender neck. You sobbed into his neck, babbling on and on about what had happened. Hobie stroked the length of your back and whispered in your ear soft words of assurance.

“You can’t be here, Hobes.” You suddenly retracted from him. Your father was a deep sleeper, but if your mother woke up at any point, your father would follow soon after with his shotgun.

Hobie bent down to begin to unlace his boots, implying that he intended to stay for a while. “I jus’ wan’ed to come see ya, baby. Tha’s all. I needed t’make sure you were okay.” He pulled off his boots and put them to the side, still so tall that you only reached his chest.

It was only then that Hobie saw the swell of your cheek and was quick to come to caress it. He could feel the welt of a handprint against your once unmarked skin. His eyes, once so nonchalant and lighthearted, darkend with worry, with anger. “Did he do this to ya?” He touched the welt so tenderly and even then you flinched away from him, nodding.

Hobie began to make his way towards your bedroom door, determined to get revenge. Who could ever look at a face like yours and think to hurt you? How dare your own father be the one to hurt you? You had to stand between him and the door to stop him, every word of “stop” falling upon deaf ears, blinded by rage.

“Please, Hobes.” You placed your hand upon his chest and pushed back on him softly. “Don’t make things worse. Just hold me…please. That’s all I need right now.”

You went back to your bed and laid down with enough space for Hobie to join you. Obviously he came to lay down with you. If this was what you needed then he’d be her for you in any way he could. He fit a bit awkwardly, his feet hanging off of the end of your bed in a rather comical way. You laid facing each other, tucked in close together. Hobie radiated warmth and made your duvet completely obsolete. You curled in as close as possible.

Hobie caressed your face tenderly, stared at the beauty of your features even with your eyes cried red and raw, your swollen cheeks, and the tears streaming down your face. How was he supposed to break this recent news to you? It would break you, he knew it would, but he had no time to put it lightly. Time was running out fast. Come morning, the two of you would have one less day together.

"I'm leavin' soon." With those three words, all your fears were confirmed. Your one and only support system was leaving you, your only semblance of relief from this choking world was going to let it suffocate you. You stared at him, your eyes glossing over. "I thought you said–"

"I know wha' I said. I know. 'm sorry." He watched the way tears rolled down your cheeks. His thumbs stroked away the tears that formed before they could fall but you needed to cry, you needed to. If you didn’t cry, what else was there to do? "'M sorry I lied but I need t' leave. My mum doesn’ wan’ me here no more. I gotta leave ya here, dove. ‘M tryna show kindness, not to fuck up ya life even more."

Kindness? Kindness? This was not kindness. This was cruelty. His solution was to just run? To abandon you? Did you truly mean so little to him that he could just up and leave you again. What were you supposed to do without him? How long did you have left with him.

"When?"

"After Mass on Sunday." Just 3 days. Too soon, far too soon, not enough time to make things right. “Is that what you came here to tell me?” Hobie’s eyes softened with guilt and for the first time, he shifted his gaze away from yours. “I couldn’ go wit’cha thinkin’ I just abandoned ya.”

But that was exactly what he was doing. He was abandoning you. Just like all those years ago. How many more years would it be until he came back? Would you still be in love with him by then, suppressed behind many years of absence? Would you forgive him for leaving or would the resentment stay for the rest of your life? You resented him, his ability to leave when things got rough, his ability to ruin your life then run away when the consequences finally caught up with you.

No need for him to be gone now. You needed him out of your house or you might scream at him, scream your lungs out until your heart was on the floor and your tears drowned your words. Scream until you tore your vocal cords, coughed up blood, coughed up rose petals.

"Get out." Your expression hardened. "Get out of my room, get out of my house, get out of my life. If you're going to leave then stay out. I don't need you coming back in 5 years to just ruin my life again." You got up and marched over to the window where he left his boots. You picked them up and threw them at him. "Leave and stay away. Never come back, Hobie. Never. If you really want to be kind, you'd let me live my life."

Hobie barely managed to get his shoes on before you were pulling him out of your bed and shoving him towards your window.

"Y/n–"

"Get out!" It's the loudest your voice has gotten so far. He's never seen you so angry. He really fucked up, really fucked you up, fucked up your life. It's best if he just left, left this town, left you alone entirely. So he said nothing more and climbed out of the window, sliding down the gutter.

There was nothing left to say.

Your parents made you burn the photos the next day before locking you back in your room for the next 2 days. They only let you out to eat and use the restroom. You weren't allowed any other privileges, not for the damned daughter. They left you with your rosary and your bible, made to only read scripture and pray the evil out of your body and for forgiveness from the Lord.

The only time you were allowed out of your room, out of the house, was on Sunday for morning mass. You were relieved to just be able to get out and get some fresh air. You took a well-deserved shower, your skin pale and your lips were dry, you trembled under the hot shower water as it poured down your body, praying.

You fasted every Sunday morning, breakfast skipped for the meal to be made after. You and your family woke up and immediately went to church at 7 in the morning and all you thought about was if Hobie has already left or if he was truly waiting until after mass to go.

You found out when you got there. Hobie and his mother were sitting on the far opposite end of the church from where you and your family usually sit. You caught his gaze for a moment and broke it as fast as you had gained it when your father grabbed your wrist and dragged you away towards your usual pew. He was still here, maybe waiting to say goodbye, a luxury he would not be afforded.

Mass went on as usual, with your sweaty parish and his long sermons. An hour in, you asked your mother if you could use the restroom and you were told to make it quick. A small luxury given to you as you stood, adjusted you dress, and made your way to the back of the church towards the old bathrooms in desperate need for renovation.

You passed the confessional cabinet along the way, to and from the restroom. On your way back, you heard the smallest bit of a whisper. “Doll.” It came from one side of the cabinet, the unmistakable accented voice of Hobie coaxing you over. You stood before the booth, debating over whether you should just leave him there or play his stupid little game one last time.

He was leaving today, what more harm can he do to you?

You opened the other door and took a step inside. Never before have you been in the confessional booth. You figured that your parents would eventually make you confess your sins to the Father at some point and you’d fall in with one of the many sinners in town.

You sat on the bench, looking at Hobie’s obscured face through the carved out design in the mahogany wood of the cabinet. “What do you want, Hobie?” Your voice was cold and uncaring but belied that all you wanted to do was find his tongue with yours and let him take you right here. All or nothing, ‘take the last bit of me before you go’.

“I jus’ wan’ed to talk, dove.” Hobie rubbed his hands together nervously. It’s been so long since he’s been nervous but if anyone deserved such an emotion, it would be you. The two of you had left things off horribly and he couldn’t bear to leave without leaving things off on a better note. “I though’ maybe–” he began to chuckle, “maybe we i’ would be easier to confess wha’s on our min’s in here.

“I know ya have no reason to wanna talk t’me, but jus’... I know you have a lot on ya mind and I wan'ed to give ya the chance to say i'"

You were silent for a long moment before Hobie spoke again.

"Confess ya sins and I'll hold them wit' me foreva."

Something about those words made your throat constrict and your heart squeeze. You could get it all out right now and if it didn't change his mind about leaving, at least you would have held nothing from him. You would have placed your heart on your sleeve and showed him all your vulnerabilities. The sin would be his.

You rested your head against the cut out the two of you were talking to. "Sin? My sin, Hobie, is that you had me in ways I thought only my husband would. My sin was that I thought I meant something to you." Your voice trembled with the tears that began to swell in your eyes and roll like rivers down your cheeks, breaking off and spilling into smaller streams. "My sin was that I was stupid enough to think you wouldn't leave again. My sin was that I fell in love with you and you will never love me the same way."

You placed your hand against the cutout wall and stationed your lips close. "My sin is that I want to run away with you, leave this life and follow you wherever you go. I want you to take me, make me yours, right here, right now. That's my sin, Hobie. You ruined me."

The silence was so loud, filled with the parishes voice describing the sanctity of marriage and how nowadays, the youngins just have sex all over the place without knowing that importance of marriage first.

The cabinet creaked softly as Hobie got up from the bench inside. He pushed open the door, stepped out, and opened the door to your side. He took you up, pulling the door closed behind him, and pulled you in. You didn't look at him, refused to, lip trembling.

"I ruined ya now, did I?" Hobie grasped your chin and forced you to look at him. He was glad to see the swelling of your cheek had gone down. He should have killed your father over hitting you. He would have if you hadn't stopped him. The things he would do for you. "Righ' here and righ' now? I could do tha'"

Hobie had you against the wall in no time, your hands grasping at each other while his teeth bit and licked at your neck in sloppy kisses against your throat. You tilted your head back to allow him more space, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer and hold his body to yours. You missed his touch, the way he smelled, the way his hands grasped at your body, your breasts, your waist, caressing every curve of your body down to your hips. His rough and calloused as he pulled your dress up to pool under your tits, leaving your white, lace panties and thigh-high socks exposed. They were cheeky and childish but Hobie found it cute.

Hobie’s lips found yours and you opened on command for him. He’s got you trained good, his sweet, little flower. You still moaned every time he stroked his tongue against yours, still shivered when his thumbs stroked your cheeks. Heat pooled between your legs, slick wetness coating your lips and soaking your lacy, little panties. Would kissing him always feel like this? Like your heart was exploding in your chest, like you might just cum right here.

He shoved his hand into your panties and dipped his fingers between your swollen, soaked lips. He's barely done anything beyond kiss you and you're already dripping, your body leaning into his. Your body rolled when he found your clit, teasing it with the pads of his fingers in gentle circular motions.

You moan softly against his full lips. His tongue piercing brushes against your tongue before forcing yours down and latching his lips to yours.

"You don' wanna be caught, do ya, doll? You wan’ someone t’come and catch me ruining you, spoiling you?" His words are disgusting, filthy, and such a big turn on. You shivered at his words, with every stroke against your clit, at the way he chuckled at your cuteness.

He continued to play with you, trying to get you wet enough so this all would hurt less. Hobie reveled in your pretty, muffled noises, coaxing more from you by the second. He wished he could take his time with this, go nice and slow while he spoils you, but someone would suspect something and put two and two together if you take too long.

Hobie pulled his fingers from your panties and you whimpered softly, watching him kitten-lick your juices from his digit with teh softest moan.

He leaned in and suckled on your bottom lip softly, whispering into you, “jus’ saty quiet f’me, luv. Can ya do tha’?” You nodded frantically, so hard you made yourself dizzy. His fingers began to pull at his belt, undoing the buckle. He took his time pulling himself out of his restraints and when he popped out, his fat cock slapping against your bare stomach, you gasped. He was just so big, smearing pre-cum against your naval, marking where his cock would rest if he pushed himself all the way into your tiny pussy.

He’d take you right here, deflower you in this sacred place of worship and they’d never know. He’d have your legs quivering, your eyes rolling back, seeing white, and you’d never make a peep because he asked it of you. No one would know that he defiled your sacred body, made it his.

As much as Hobie affected you, you affected him. He was so hard at the mere thought of fucking you that it hurted. Pre-cum beaded at his tip before dripping down his slit. He pumped himself in his hand, thumbing at his head while he kissed you. “Tha’s righ’, keep quiet or we’ll be in trouble, luv.”

Hobie dipped down and grasped the backs of your thighs to lift you up and make you wrap your legs around his slender waist. Your clothed core pressed against the length of his cock and you ground your hips down to get some friction against your aching cunt.

Hobie pulled your panties to the side, let you take what you needed as you humped him. He sat down on the bench, let you straddle his hips, dragging your soaked cunt along the girth of his cock. Every time his thick head caught on your clit you'd shudder yet keep your lips sealed like a good girl. No one would know what was going on if only you kept your lips tight.

Hobie let you take control of yourself, your pleasure, in a place where you've never before had control over anything. He watched you almost lovingly, leaning back with his hands on your hips, trying your best to prepare yourself for a moment you've been waiting for your entire life.

"I need you to do it for me." You whispered timidly, looking at him with those big eyes of yours. "I'm scared." It felt stupid to admit. Something you wanted so badly, something you practically pleaded for, now felt like the most terrifying thing in the world.

Hobie kissed the edges of your mouth. "'ve got'cha. Don't be afraid. We'll go slow." His voice gave you all the assurance you needed as you nodded and closed your eyes, placing yourself entirely in his hands.

Hobie positioned himself against the tight, wet hole of your entrance. The only time you've been stretched out was with his fingers and even then, you had been tight due to anxiety. His fingers didn't even compare.

He took your hips in his hold and brought you down slowly, the head of his cock splitting you apart and a nerve-wracking pace. A sharp pain took you and you cried softly, your fingers digging into Hobie's shoulders as he attempted to get you to calm down. He didn't go any further, just the tip, that was the hardest part. "Jus' breath, luv. You got i'."

You took in a shaky breath, slowly pushing your hips down to take him inch by inch. He stretched you in a way that his fingers failed to prepare you for, intruded in your body in a way that was so intimate that you thought you might cry but maybe that was the stinging pain of him making space for himself inside your body.

He seemed to go on forever but the moment you reached the hilt, you paused, sitting in his lap, rocking your hips gently in an attempt to adjust to his size. You whimpered with each moment, burying your face in the crook of his neck, taking in his scent that makes you deliriously high. “Hobie, I can’t.” You murmured, shaking your head. “I can’t, it hurts.”

“Yes ya can, luv. I got’chu. It’ll feel good in a moment.” Hobie kept your hips rocking back and forth and whispered into the side of your neck. His fingers slipped beneath the band of your underwear, his long, rough fingers grabbing at your flesh.

With time, your face against his throat, eyes closed, you began to relax. Your once tight muscles loosened slowly and what was once pain shifted into gentle pleasure. Your lips sought out his and you kissed him gently, moaning against his tongue while the ball of his piercing pressed against the soft muscle of your tongue.

Hobie prompted you to rise and slowly, you did, every vein dragging against your silken walls. You rose until just his tip remained inside you before falling back down upon his cock. He was so big, so thigh, touching places inside you you never knew even existed. His cock dragged against a soft spot inside you and immediately, your thighs began to tremble uncontrollably. Your body rolled with the familiar jolts of an orgasm overtaking your body. You fell away from the kiss, slapping your hand over your mouth as you arched your back and let out a soft cry.

There was a wet sound, a small squirt of something clear coming from between your legs and wetting Hobie’s pants and abdomen. You hadn’t even noticed it until the waves of your climax washed over you and he had barely thrusted into you once. You looked at him, smiling something evil at you. “I ain’ know you was a squirter, doll.”

“I’m sorry, I– I have no idea what that was.”

“Don’ apologize. ‘M just wonderin’ if I can make ya do i’ again.” Hobie hadn’t expected you to cum so fast, much less to squirt all from one thrust. Your pussy gushed with your cum, slicking him up and making the whole debacle a whole lot easier. He rubbed circles on your still trembling thighs until they stopped shaking with the aftermath of your orgasm before he took hold of your hips again and began guiding you movements up and down his length.

You felt like absolute Heaven around him, all wet and silky, tight yet not too tight. He made you ride him nice and slow, sliding his hands up and down the length of your gorgeous, shivering body and whispering quiet praises to you while mass seemed to become all the louder. Songs of worship were being sang and Hobie couldn’t help but to find a steady beat with them.

You had never felt so high before, like you were ascending to whole nothing plane of existence, like you were touching Heaven itself before you were cast down to Hell. The choir sang and you sang Hobie’s name with them, your thighs burning with strenuous use but you didn’t care. You didn’t care that you had solidified your place in Hell, that your parents were altogether ready to disown you, that your rosary sat discarded on the floor of the confession booth. You just cared that Hobie’s cock was bullying its way inside you, that you felt good about yourself for the first time in so, so long. He made you feel so good.

“I love you.” You said to him, fucked out and in a daze, bouncing on his dick and hungry for a second orgasm sitting pretty on the horizon. “I love you more than God, more than anything.” You feel like you can't think straight. You can't even formulate cohesive thoughts for Christ's sake beyond your adoration for him. It was like he was knocking something loose in your brain ramming into you. “I love you, I love you, IloveyouIlove you.”

“I love ya too, luv. Fuck- God, I only came back to this– shit, keep goin’, doll…only came back f’you.” Hobie’s head fell back against the back of the booth and his eyes rolled back in his head. “God, ya feel s’good, s’good. Don’ stop.” Like you ever wanted to. It was like you were both losing hold of yourselves, growing increasingly louder, but the music did a wonderful job at covering it up.

He slides his hand over your mouth as you cry out. "What would your parents think if they saw you like this, getting soiled like this. You think they would notice if I came in your pussy and let it run down your thighs during service."

You whimper a muffled moan against his hand. You don't even care that he's telling you that he's gonna cum inside you. You were too focused on your orgasm approaching like a freight train. It was hot and steamy in this tiny compartment. Your hot breath quickly fills the room that quickly turned into a stuffy sauna as you two sweat.

Hobie could feel his coming too, the quickest he'd ever had cum since his first time. He lets his fingers dip into your mouth and press on your hot tongue. You instinctively begin sucking and Hobie praises you by calling you a "good girl. Always a good girl".

Your orgasm came without warning. It took hold of your like a possession, your muscles tightening with the weight of it. Your hand reached between your legs and eagerly stroked your clit and before you knew it, you were squirting again, just for him. Your pussy pulsated, your eyes rolled, your body relaxed and rolled against his, coaxing his orgasm out of him.

Hobie quickly slipped out of you before you could take his cock into you again. He wrapped a large, wet hand around his cock and stroked himself hard and fast against your wet abdomen. It didn’t take long for him to cum, coating your stomach in thick ribbons of it while he let out deep, panting huffs against your shoulder.

“You think they noticed we’ve been gone?”

“Definitely.”

Mass went on as usual when the two of you finally returned to your seats but you could both tell that your parents had caught on a long time ago and there was no way some kind of reprimanding wasn’t underway.

That night, you left home. Your father had struck you again and told you that you had two options, enter a convert and become a nun or leave the house because he “would not stand for this debauchery”.

You chose to leave.

You called Hobie on the house phone just before he left his hotel and asked him to come pick you up. By the time he got there, you were sitting on the curb with two bags and in tears. He got off of his bike, grabbed your bags for you, and offered out a hand for you to take. “You ready?”

You looked up at him, wiped the tears from your cheeks with the backs of your hands, and slipped your hand into his so he could help you up

”As ever.”

taglist: @eldrichhorrornyaa , @coffeeandtealol , @ravieaesthetic , @th3h0nkz , @qxiva , @m00nc4kes , @angel-of-the-eon

#across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #atsv #hobie brown #spiderman #spider punk #hobie brown fic #hobie brown smut #hobie brown x reader #hobie smut #hobie brown x black!reader #hobie brown x religious!reader #confessions!reader #confessions!hobie

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afewproblems · 8 months

Text

Season 2 Halloween Party AU Part Two

You can read part one here!

***

Eddie can't help but steal glances at his passenger as he starts the engine while Steve buckles himself in.

A streetlight flickers overhead bathing the front seat in strobing gold light; it's so distracting Eddie nearly misses the way Steve's hands tighten around the seatbelt, a slight tremor running through them.

The other man looks exhausted but incredibly on edge, his back straight and shoulders stiff. Eddie has to stop himself from rolling his eyes as Steve scans the dark street ahead of them.

If he's so embarrassed to be seen with the town freak, he can just get out and walk home.

Eddie almost says as much, but shakes the words off and flicks the small Snoopy bobblehead on the dash, before reaching for the edge of the passenger seat.

He feels Steve flinch at the sudden movement as Eddie braces himself on the seat to look out the rearview window.

Eddie tamps down the flicker of irritation that burns in his chest, he hadnt taken Harrington for a Bible thumping asshole that would believe the rumours circling Eddie, but then again, Eddie didn't really know Steve.

Eddie backs out of the space slowly, no need to wreck the paint even more by hitting some suburban moms stationwagon after all. He shifts into drive and pulls away from the street and the flashing lights of Tina's party behind them.

Steve is quiet as they drive, and as the sound of the dull throbbing bass and party goers begins to fade into the background, Steve slowly begins to curls inwards, tugging his arms around himself.

Eddie's eyes flick between Steve and the road, he's still not looking at Eddie, just out the window with a blank expression. It's the most quiet he's ever seen King-Steve, it's unsettling.

But, the more Eddie thinks about it, that really isn't true.

King-Steve hasn't been King of anything for awhile now, Tommy Hagan has seen to that.

Steve has been keeping to himself more and more, preferring to hang out with Wheeler and, surprisingly, Byers of all people.

Eddie isn't sure he'd ever be able to comfortably sit at a cafeteria table with someone who cleaned his clock, but Steve makes it look easy.

Eddie sneaks another glance and startles to find that Steve is already looking at him. He's chewing his lip, his eyebrows pinched and Eddie can't help but feel as though he's being evaluated somehow.

Great.

"Actually, you know what," Steve says after they've turned down yet another subdivision, just one street shy before the main road, "you can just drop me off up here, my house is close".

"You sure?" Eddie asks, ignoring the frustration that rises in his chest once more, "I can drive you the rest of the way, it's not like we don't all know where the King's Domaine is".

Eddie watches as Steve's expression turns stony for the barest of moments before it shutters.

"Okay".

Eddie nods with a grimace. He isn't even sure what he wanted to happen tonight, but it wasn’t this.

Eddie makes a left and another right before pulling into the long drive of the Harrington house.

It used to make him scoff whenever he dealt here. The huge house, the lavish furnishings and fixtures. For fucks sake, the master bath had two sinks and the closet was almost as big as his own bedroom.

But now as the engine dies and a strange silence falls on the pair, Eddie can't help but notice just how dark the house is.

"Your parents here?" Eddie says, craning his neck to see the upstairs windows, he doesn't even notice Steve has unclicked himself from the passenger seat until the door is open and he's halfway out of the van.

"Woah--"

"Thanks for the ride," Steve calls over his shoulder, "see you around Munson".

Eddie barely has time to open his mouth in protest before Steve is unlocking his door and slamming it behind him, leaving Eddie in the van alone.

He sits for a second before sighing and turning the key once more, coaxing the engine back to life. Eddie turns again, bracing his hand on the passenger seat, debating if he should head back to the party, before he spots something on the floor shining in the glow of the streetlights.

A pair of large black sunglasses, and there's no doubt who they belong to.

"Well shit," Eddie hums thoughtfully as he bends forward to grab the glasses from the floor, "guess I'll be seeing you sooner than we thought".

***

The first bell rings as Eddie closes his locker, he looks out across the sea of teenagers making their way to homeroom before the second bell and smirks.

Eddie should also be hurrying, considering how far his locker is from his first period class, but there's something about the way the teachers glare as he saunters in late that just fuels him.

Eddie smirks as he swings his backpack over his shoulder, the metal lunchbox inside clangs against something and Eddie winces at the sound. Shit.

He moves the pack off his shoulder and unzips the top, reaching inside to grab the sunglasses from where they've become trapped beneath his lunchbox.

They aren't broken thankfully, Eddie's sure that Harrington wouldn't appreciate his gesture nearly as much if they came back cracked or bent.

The thought makes Eddie stop for just a moment before he opens his locker again to place the sunglasses on the top shelf. Why is he even doing this? It's not as though King-Steve would appreciate this, he probably doesn't even know the glasses are missing.

What does Eddie care about some asshole jock?

An image of Steve with his head in his hands, his hazel eyes wet and wide as he looks up at Eddie has him slamming his locker shut, mortified by the unbidden thought.

It's a complete betrayal of his own God damned doctrine, and worse, Steve is straight. All Eddie is doing is hurting himself in the long run with all his pointless pining.

Especially over someone that didn't want to be seen getting into his van last night.

Eddie leans his head onto his locker and knocks it harshly against the metal, stupid.

The second bell rings and the last of the stragglers leave him alone in the hallway. Eddie taps his fingers on the locker and pushes himself away as he makes his way to the main door, throwing his backpack over his shoulder once more.

He needs a smoke, and definitely doesn't need Mrs. McBrayden telling him off for not handing in yet another essay today.

Whatever, it isn't as though Eddie hasn't read Macbeth, he knows that stupid play backwards and forwards --the witches speech is absolutely full of kickass creepy language and was perfect for this one campaign he ran a few years ago.

Eddie could tell you all the major themes and conflicts no problem, it was writing it in such a way that his teacher would believe he actually wrote it that was the issue.

The last time Eddie actually tried on one of his assignments, he had been immediately accused of plagiarizing someone else's work.

So, why bother.

Eddie's already got a cigarette between his lips as he pushes the door open and makes his way to his favorite picnic table by the treeline when he hears a familiar voice behind the gym.

"Tell me--"

"Tell you what?" another voice scoffs, a woman's this time.

Eddie pokes his head tentatively around the corner, spotting the man he had driven home just the night before and his girlfriend alone, clearly fighting.

"Tell me," Steve says firmly, even as his voice waivers, "you love me".

Wheeler stands there, her arms wrapped tightly around her books, "really?"

The word comes out, wrapped in a smile, like it's a joke.

Steve doesn't move, he doesn't laugh, he doesn't make a sound.

Nancy's mouth opens and closes as her blue eyes search Steve's face for a long time. She tries for a laugh again, but her smile cracks as Steve continues to stand there expectantly.

Eddie can't see Steve's face from where he's standing but he does hear the low curse he lets out eventually before turning abruptly, swinging a towel over his shoulder as he jogs back to the field to join the rest of the class.

Well shit.

Eddie watches Nancy as she remains rooted to the spot, her face tipped down to the gravel. She breathes out a long sigh and raises one hand to brush through her hair before it drops heavily at her side.

Eddie can't help but feel a twinge of sympathy as he slowly turns away, shaking his head as he continues to the picnic table.

He lights the cigarette as he takes a seat facing the school, letting the edge of the table dig into his back. He pulls a long drag from the cigarette and breathes out, watching as the smoke billows away in the cool November air.

If it wasn't officially over last night, it definitely was now. The priss and the jock were no more, and knowing Hawkins?

It would be all over the school by lunch.

Part Three up!

Tag List: @eriquin @luvinthefreaks @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @goodolefashionedloverboi @ellietheasexylibrarian @bambibiest @sadboislovebeans @howincrediblysapphicofyou @coleys-a-nerd @whycantiuseunderscore @airconditioning123

and for some peeps that I think may be interested! @strangersteddierthings @steddierthings @steddie-there @steves-strapcollection @outpastthebrakers @henderdads

#stranger things #stranger things season 2 au #steve harrington #eddie munson #nancy wheeler #steve and nancy breakup #what would have happened if eddie had been at tinas halloween party?#yall want a part three?#this fic is going places apparently #dont be mad at nancy #steve and nancy were too dumb kids that were affected by deep trauma and definitely did not know how to be in a relationship #eddie is having all sorts of complicated feelings about steve here #add a little bit of misunderstandings in the van as a treat #cw smoking #i will never get tired of halloween party breakup aus #you can pry them from my cold dead fingers #afewproblems writes

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69dias · 2 years

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[teaser 2] baby don’t go (i’m bad at being alone); jjk

warnings: religious themes (infidelity, a bit of religious trauma, bible verses) sex, jks obliviousness [these r just for the teaser!] another man …. Another woman….

teaser wc: ~700 (we’re at 10k tho!)

a/n: PLEASE lmk what u think! ask questions, talk to me, all of that!

AJ and you make sense together, if you were to put it logistically. Met in Law School, were friends for years before potentially getting together, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel like a puzzle piece fitting into place. But logistics aren’t the game you play, and the longer you look at him, the more it settles in that there isn’t really much there. With Jungkook, for example, you’d notice the pretty doe shape in his eyes, the scar above his cheek, the slope of his nose and how when he blushes, the pink spreads from the tips of his ears inwards — with AJ, all you see is a handsome face.

Jungkook is your best friend, though, and again, it makes more sense to notice these nuances with him than with AJ and fuck, why are you even thinking about this?

AJ continues to look at you, and you’re thankful, not for his eerie silence as much as for the fact that he’s walking you home at night after you’ve had such a rough day. If being with Jungkook is routine, AJ is the soft of your sheets after a long day — he’s always there, always with you, even if he doesn’t really say anything to you.

(You fight this thought from appearing in your head, but evidently fail.)

Even today, he didn’t question where you were coming from, didn’t say that he couldn’t come get you because he had this supposed ‘early morning’ (which he didn’t, which you could not get over), didn’t say a single word, at least it until you did.

It’s a quiet question, one that has lingered in the back of your mind for the whole evening: “Why’d you lie, Alex?”

It’s messy, limbs tangled as he’s basically bent her over in half to plow his cock into her, more drunk off the pretty sounds she makes — familiarly, intimacy — than the copious amounts of drinks he’s had. She’s moaning his name out like a prayer, and he’s leaning over her like a god, and Jungkook’s stopped being religious, but he thinks it’s sin, the way she envelopes him and gives herself to him. The way he doesn’t have to ask, the way she’s meeting his hips halfway.

Exodus 20:14, Proverbs 6:32, Hebrews 13:4 — You shall not commit adultery, But a man who commits adultery has no sense; whoever does so destroys himself, Marriage should be honored by all, and the marriage bed kept pure, for God will judge the adulterer and all the sexually immoral.

He remembers these verses, and he remembers your pretty eyes, and you’re all he can think about when he looks down at Nayoung. Does that make him an adulterer? Does that make him a cheater, dirty, sinful? He fucks into her deeper, inevitably hits the spot — familiarity, intimacy — and drinks her moans in. He remembers the slope of your nose, and how you’d laughed together over dinner a day ago, how your eyes had looked under the streetlights. Nayoung tears up, tells him it feels so fucking good, and he thinks of the tears in your eyes. His hips stutter, and it makes her dig her blunt nails into the clothes expanse of his shoulders, but he welcomes the pain better than he welcomes the guilt of having let you walk away.

He feels wretched, feels horribly for Nayoung and feels the vodka in his system crawl its way up his throat but he keeps it down. He’s close, she’s close, and if this was a bad decision, nobody has to know.

#jungkook #jungkook smut #bts #jungkook drabbles #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook/reader #jungkook blurbs #jungkook angst #jungkook fics #jungkook oneshot #jungkook au #jungkook series #jungkook oneshots #BDG;IBABA #jungkook teaser

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hamliet · 2 years

Note

Loved all of your britin answers. I don't have a proper question. Can you talk about Justin's love for Brian?

Haha well, I love talking about QaF, so any and all asks are welcome about it. Good writing, y'all: it gives me life.

I've talked at length about why I think the text indicates Justin fell for Brian here, and what falling for Justin did for Brian in terms of healing here and here.

I'll say a little more on the latter, which is that Brian believing love didn't exist was actually a protective mechanism. If love doesn't exist, then it doesn't matter that his parents never loved him or wanted him. But it becomes a maladaptive coping mechanism when he grows up, because instead of enabling him to survive like it did as a kid, it cripples him into refusing to take responsibility for whether or not he can love and in terms of him never really going after what he wants (because he does, in fact, want love).

But along comes Justin, who loves him no matter what. Even when he knows Brian doesn't want him. Even when Brian behaves like his worst self. Even when Brian's broke and poor. Even when Brian sells out by helping Stockwell at first. Even when Brian's physically sick and loses a ball. Even when Brian can't "perform." Even when Brian's stupid and pushes himself to complete a race his doctor definitely didn't sign off on as a matter of pride.

Even when he knows Brian doesn't want him at first is kind of key here, too. Therein Justin directly subverts the horrific, nightmarish reality of Brian's childhood, in which Brian's parents didn't want him. By loving Brian anyways, Justin shows Brian that just because he wasn't loved by people, it doesn't mean Brian's incapable of love. It also means Brian can be wrong, and still deserve love. It gives Brian the humanity his parents (and society) deny to him.

Love is as much a choice as it is a feeling, maybe more so. And even if Brian can't voice it until almost the very end, he shows Justin he loves him, as Justin calls out in season 3:

What you gave me was worth ... A million times more than anything he had to offer. You would've told me that you loved me. That you would go on loving me, even after I was gone.

Notably, after this moment Justin never directly questions whether or not Brian loves him ever again. Because he knew, as he'd known for years at that point, that Brian did, even if Brian never said it. (Fortunately, he did. Eventually.)

Loving Justin helped Brian love Justin at his worst self (like when he leaves Brian for Ethan), too. Brian not only experiences unconditional love, he gives it. That type of agape love that is so unconditional is life-giving, it's powerful, it's God (to quote Ted, who is quoting the Bible lol). It's the best of humanity and transcends the weaknesses of human mortality and time. It's somewhat of a metaphysical idea that QaF actually explores, which someday I will write about more. Someday.

Also, you know what might symbolize their love in the show? Colors.

You know how in Season 3 episode 8--that episode--Justin tells Brian "orange is the new blue?" Did you notice that the colors associated with probably about 3/4 of their scenes together are orange or blue or both? From the moment they meet in the very first episode (Justin under a yellow-orange streetlight, dressed in blue)..

to the outfit Justin's wearing when Brian shows up at Debbie's house for him...

to the orange light of the office when they get back together...

to how Brian changes his bed light from blue to orange after Justin says this (as noticed by @sophsun1).

It's literally a motif throughout the entire show. According to basic color symbolism theory :

Blue... is associated with open spaces, freedom, intuition, imagination, expansiveness, inspiration, and sensitivity. Blue also represents meanings of depth, trust, loyalty, sincerity, wisdom, confidence, stability, faith, heaven, and intelligence.

Orange, the blend of red and yellow, is a mixture of the energy associated with red and the happiness associated with yellow. Orange is associated with meanings of joy, warmth, heat, sunshine, enthusiasm, creativity, success, encouragement, change, determination, health, stimulation, happiness, fun, enjoyment, balance, sexuality, freedom, expression, and fascination.

To an extent color theory can be vague and mean a lot of things you want it to, but clearly the color scheme was deliberate, presumably for a reason. These basic associations are pretty broad and widely understood, too, so seems like a pretty good match for what their love is like: trusting, sincere, heavenly, free, inspiring, sunshine, sexual, success, etc.

#ask hamliet #britin #qaf meta #qaf 2000 #queer as folk us 2000 #queer as folk meta #brian kinney #justin taylor #brian x justin #qaf

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christianarttherapy · 11 days

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I thought this Teaching clip would spark your creativity. Watch Lamentations 3:22-23 by Streetlights:

Art Prompt 👩‍🎨

What you'll need:

- A5/A4 Strong Card stock paper

- A few Colours Acrylic Paint

- Paint brush 3-5mm

- Jar with water for cleaning brushes

- Kitchen towel roll to dab paint brush dry after cleaning

All set🖌️🎨

Paint how you have experienced God's great love❤️ and post your artwork in the comments.

Shalom

#christian expressive art #bible scripture #art #christian

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inuteroinbloom · 2 months

Text

a love letter to judas

this melancholy membrane of mine is out of control

my consciousness weaves in and out, lurking in the catacombs

my ego is behind a locked door in a building around the corner

my passion is a bullet train barreling through these crowded streets

my past is an anvil falling slowly deeper into the lake in the local park

all of these hormones and drugs and pheromones pumping and pulsating through me

breaking apart in my veins, my nerves, my mind

i can feel myself decaying

my soul fighting a losing battle against my brain

i take candy from strangers

they offer me words of encouragement and biblical pamphlets

they say He is forever and when my brain finally stops that he will take control

i can breathe at last

but this perversion is already inside me

sepsis has set in and i am a rotten piece of garbage on the street i grew up on

He would not want me

He would not choose me

out of all the shiny streetlights i am the blue dejected one

maybe i should have payed more attention in bible study

looked at the stained pages in my watered down and indoctrinating book

maybe i should have burned those words in my brain, said them over and over until it had become a stream separating the roads

i need to cleanse myself

peel back the dead skin and emerge as a child once more

rise like lazarus, fall like judas

my mind will be clean and empty and naive

and they will give me their words

pervert me how they choose to

convert me if they choose to

and i will be whole

and i will be new

and i will be there with Him

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yfcokcsouth · 2 months

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Today at campus life club we went over Psalms 19 and Ephesians 6. Next week will going over John 8-15. The students are preparing for leadership trying and working on the following weeks message during their week prior on the streetlight Bible app .

#yfcsokc #campuslife #likemindedchurch

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thechivalrousmouse · 3 months

Text

The Lightkeeper

Wandering in the darkness, now, that is something that might not normally be considered a good thing in most situations. However, for this particular night along the Cape Hatteras National Seashore, the conditions were perfect to see the Hatteras Lighthouse share its light, as it’s done for more than one hundred years, even after being moved further inland in recent times. With the location and the weather cooperating, the stage is set for experimenting with astrophotography.

As I wait for my camera timer to finish one of many long exposures I will attempt this night, it is easy to get caught up in nature's sound machine of steady waves breaking on the shore. The directed luminous beam from the lighthouse makes its rotation over and over again across the horizon, leading my eyes to the emergence of a vast spectacle across the dark sky. This dense twinkling of constellations and galaxies is not always visible to the naked eye with the light pollution I am accustomed to back home, where the city and streetlights hide their beauty. It has always struck me as odd to associate the word light with a word like pollution, yet with the circumstance of a washed-out sky, it becomes easy to forget there is so much more to see outside our atmosphere.

People have long used the stars to aid in navigation from one place to another, but what if these pinholes of light were the stepping stones of a path to something or someone much larger? If I take clues from the Bible, each star is hung in the sky (Job 9:9), counted, and named (Psalm 147:4) by a creator whose glory is set above the heavens. (Psalm 8:1) Yet it is very easy to miss this divine signature behind a cloak of storm clouds or from the glow of man-made light, where the contrast is lost, beauty is made bland, and perhaps the sense of danger is lessened.

How many warnings from the Lightkeeper can be rejected to further linger in the darkness or be ignored before running aground only to sink deeper into a foundation that was never meant to cradle? How small must one's faith be to land and be broken on his shore, to know that the shadows of sin and doubt that loom behind have been overcome? Nights like tonight bring me closer to the God of Light (1 John 1:5), who not only makes a way for each step but also walks each step with me.

#outer banks #north carolina #photography #reflection #jesus #god #light #starry night #photographer #stars #milky way #astrophotography #spititual #faith #christian faith #faith in jesus #lighthouse #cape hatteras

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claylowe · 6 months

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espresso visions

there's a pulse, a beat a rhythm that’s jagged and raw dancing to the cadence of the streetlights.

it’s here in the hollows of the night where words tumble out like dice in a back alley craps game

where the poets huddle over steaming cups of coffee, their cigarettes making halos in the dim light.

it’s in the bloodstream of their verses, in the thrumming of the city's veins, and the way the night opens up like a beatnik’s Bible, spilling out secrets in a language that’s half-sin, half-salvation.

the poets, they get it. they speak in tongues that kiss the divine, that wrestle with the infinite, caresses the ineffable, teases out the silver threads of connection between the sidewalk and the stars.

they chant, these beat poets, like monks who've traded their silent vows for the syncopated prayers of the jazz club—

thumping bass the hi-hat's crisp whispers the sax wailing, always wailing.

the mystic chase, it's there in the alleys of consciousness where the self dissolves like sugar in coffee, bitter and sweet, we're all just seeking the face of God in a smoky room, in the reflection of a dingy bar spoon.

the road is the path and the path is a Möbius strip twisting on itself, and the truth isn’t at the destination, it’s smeared in the journey, smeared like ink on the poet’s tired hands.

they wrote like they were trying to scratch the heavens open with the tip of a pen let the divine light flood through the page, turn the word into flesh, into something holy and trembling.

the page is the altar and the sacrifice where they lay down their visions, their acid revelations, peeling back the layers of material until they’re face to face with the cosmic joke, the eternal 'ha, ha!’

and they don’t shy away, they dive headfirst into the abyss, the void, where time collapses like a cheap suit and space is just another word for the distance between human hearts.

in the curling smoke, the flicker of neon, the beat poets find the sacred, in the profane alleys, the all-night diners, making mantras out of the mundane, finding Nirvana in a worn-out shoe,

the Third Eye in a half-drunk bottle of cheap red wine, spilling over sheets of tattered notebooks.

and we, the readers, the wanderers, the seekers, we listen for the beat, the rhythm beneath their words, a heart that’s pounding out the message—

break free, break through, break open. let the inside out, let the mystic in, let the poetry do its ancient, eternal work.

in the beat, there’s truth, and in that truth, there's the spark—the divine spark that burns, always burns, in the core of us all.

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holy-mountaiin · 6 months

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Day 3 - The Image Lost

SCRIPTURES:

Genesis 5-6

Psalm 12

Ephesians 3

Below you will find each audible version over beats, visuals and "helpful tools." At the very bottom you will see a "read & rant episode"

Genesis 5 (NASB)

GENESIS 5 (AUDIBLE) ON STREETLIGHTS:

youtube

GENESIS 5 (VISUAL) ON GIDEON FILMS:

youtube

Genesis 6 (NASB)

GENESIS 6 (AUDIBLE) ON STREETLIGHTS:

youtube

Psalms 12 (NASB)

PSALM 12 (AUDIBLE) ON STREETLIGHTS:

youtube

Ephesians 3 (NASB)

EPHESIANS 3 (AUDIBLE) ON STREETLIGHTS:

youtube

VISUAL ON THE BIBLE PROJECT:

youtube

HELPFUL TOOLS

Ephesians part 2 by Isaiah Saldivar

Ephesians 2-3 by Spoken Gospel

Walk with God - Streetlights

Psalm 12 - Spoken Gospel

youtube

#genesis 5 #genesis 3 #the image of god #image bearer #ephesian #ephesians #isaiah saldivar #ephesians 3 #ryan birk #spirit && life collective #read & rant #audio bible #thematic bible #reading plan #bible plan #psalms #psalm 12 #the bible project #Youtube

0 notes

ljmartblog · 1 year

Text

Must've Been The Wind [SCRIPT]

{Allen} I heard glass shatter on the wall of the apartment upstairs.

I tried to brush it off, mind my business. Afterall, it was late. I’d fallen asleep on the couch, and now the tv was the only source of light in the room. Infomercials apparently, but nothing that could’ve explained the sounds I’d just heard. A man in a sweater vest was talking about bible covers, covers that could be mine for the low one-time price of $19.95. If I acted now, he’d throw in another for free, plus a silver-plated bookmark. I dug out the remote from where it had fallen between the couch cushions and turned off the tv before he could tell me how free the shipping and handling was.

The apartment went dead quiet. A car went by, then another, then back to silence. I stared at the shadows of my miniblinds painted across the walls by the streetlights outside. Squinting towards the kitchen, I saw the faint green glow of the microwave clock: 2:17am. Maybe I’d just dreamt the noise. I started weighing the pros and cons of going to bed vs. spending the rest of the night on the couch, but then I heard a voice. It was definitely coming from upstairs, and it sounded like she was crying.

“---I’m so stupid!-----why can’t I just-----"

There was a bit of shuffling, and then nothing.

I waited a bit more, but there were no other sounds. I rolled over, tried to push it from my mind, but I just couldn’t stop thinking about it. She sounded so upset. I don’t really know her, but we’ve passed in the halls a few times. She always seems so happy, always smiling.

I wish I knew her name.

I rolled over and closed my eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come. Maybe I wasn’t thinking straight because of the hour, but I couldn’t just ignore someone who was so clearly hurting. Plus, I think she lives alone up there. If…if I were in her position, I’d want someone to talk to. Unable to fight it, I sat up with a groan and fumbled around in the dark for my clothes. I was just going to ask if she was ok. What could it hurt?

----------------- {Zoe}

“Alright Eddie,” I said. “Only two more days until the transfiguration final exam. If I can get this down tonight, I’ll be ready in plenty of time.”

“I have every faith in you,” the miniature dragon replied, studying his claws like a fresh manicure. “But you really shouldn’t rush this one.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” I grumbled, hefting my cauldron out from it’s hiding pace under the kitchen sink. “You’re not the one with the deadline. And there’s no wiggle room on this one; if I’m not on that rooftop by midnight it’s an F. No extra credit, no second chances-” I plopped the cauldron down onto my desk by the window. “Then it’s no graduation, no certification, no broom license, no facing my parents ever again...”

“And no peace for me for the rest of my days,” Eddie finished, sharing none of my urgency. “I’ve been hearing this same monolog all week. But you know you can do this if you just stay out of your own way.”

“What’s that even supposed to mean?” I asked, opening my textbook to the final chapter, ‘Tonics and Tinctures for Truly Terrific Transformations.’ He didn’t respond. “Forget it. Could you just please make yourself useful and help me measure out these ingredients? I can’t find my scale...”

“You’d lose your head if it wasn’t attached,” the dragon muttered, jumping to the floor with cat-like grace. He slithered to the couch and pulled my bookbag out from under it. The zipper was, of course, already open, and he reached half his body into the bag to retrieve my tools. The simple metal scales glinted in the overhead lights as he lugged them back over to the desk.

“Thanks, Monster,” I said with clear irritation.

“You know I detest that name,” he snapped, returning to his perch on the bookshelf. “It’s bad enough you gave me such a laughable moniker, the least you could do is use it fully.”

“Sorry, ‘Eddie Monster’.”

His tail twitched irritably, dangling over the shelf beside her desk, but he didn’t say anything more as he watched me work. I carefully measured out powders, herbs, and liquids into their respective vials. When I was done, my desk almost looked like the mis en place of a professional chef. Lastly, I reached past the cauldron to pluck a twig from the flowering bonsai plant in my window. I held it over the cauldron and looked over at Eddie. “Give us a light?”

He rolled his eyes, but stretched out his nose to spit a mouthful of yellow flame on the delicate petals. They ignited with a brilliant white flame and I dropped them into the cauldron. The fire quickly spread as I sprinkled in more dry ingredients. Then, when the flames were almost dangerously high, I poured in the liquids.

The cauldron hissed and steamed, and with a final dramatic puff of white smoke, it was complete. Waving away the fumes I peered into the cauldron at the shallow potion. It was still bubbling a bit, but otherwise looked ready. I looked up at Eddie. “Well,” I started, “What do you think?”

The dragon peered into the cauldron with more serious expression and sniffed the last few tendrils of steam coming from it. He paused for a moment, thoughtful, then looked over at me. “It won’t kill you,” he said, sounding bored once more.

“Good,” I said, ladling it into a small crystal chalice. “But will it turn me into a badass dragon? That’s the real question...”

“That I cannot tell you,” Eddie replied, “you’ll have to try it and see.” He paused, watching me return the ladle to the cauldron and added, “You’ve got plenty of sea water on hand, right?”

I rolled my eyes. “You worry too much,” I said. “But to answer your question, yes, it’s in that canteen by the sink.”

“Just in case,” he said, letting his voice trail off.

“Just in case.” I mocked. “Alright, lets do this!” I downed the potion in a single gulp, and waited. For a moment I didn’t feel anything. I gently placed the desk, and was about to ask Eddie if I’d done something wrong when I felt it. My bones moved beneath my skin of their own accord, my vision sharpened, and for a moment all I could see was white. Then, in a blink, I was on the floor.

My head felt heavy, and I took that as a good sign. I couldn’t speak, of course, but I knew Eddie could still hear me. I tilted my head to look up at him. ‘Well?’ I asked mentally. ‘How do I look? Super awesome, right? Do I have wings? I feel like it worked!’

Eddie looked down at me with a look I couldn’t read. “Go take a look,” he said, gesturing towards the coat closet where I kept my full-length mirror. As I turned to follow his direction, the door sprung open. ‘Show-off,’ I thought, but there was no malice to it. I was too excited. I’d gotten it on the first try! My body felt extremely heavy, but I figured that was the price of being a giant fire-breathing dragon. I tried rolling my shoulders, feeling for the extensions that would be wings, but felt nothing. I could feel a tail dragging the floor behind me though, so that had to be a good sign. ‘Maybe it takes a little while to get used to a different body,’ I thought as I made my way across the room. ‘That must be why we were allowed so much time to get the potion ready...’

I thought I heard Eddie snort in response, but I ignored him. He was always so cynical. At last I made it to the closet. Peering inside I finally saw my reflection, and if this body could have screamed, I would.

‘Wha--I’m an IGUANA?!’

“Have you ever seen a dragon?” Eddie asked from across the room. “In real life?”

‘YOU’RE a dragon, what are you saying?!’ This is NOT what I was supposed to be AT ALL-’

“But you weren’t trying to be like me. The kind of dragon you’re trying to become does not exist, and has never existed.” Eddie said smugly. “So a big lizard was the best your magic could come up with.”

‘Oh my god this is disgusting. Undo it! How do I-?’

“Sea water, anyone...?” Eddie said, cutting off my downward spiral.

‘Right! Oh but it’s in that bottle. Eddie I don’t have hands! Do I??’ I looked down at my scaly clawed appendages. ‘Eddie I don’t have hands I couldn’t even reach the counter if I did oh my god! Can’t you- you're supposed to be my familiar now HELP MEE-!’

“Relax,” he said, from suddenly much closer than I thought he was. He appeared in the mirror beside me, canteen dangling from his tail. He suddenly sounded more sympathetic. “Open you mouth,” he said, deftly unscrewing the lid of the canteen. Then under his breath he muttered, “I didn’t know iguanas could cry...”

I realized then that he was right. I was crying, or at least my reflection was. I opened my mouth and let him pour the briny liquid on my tongue. ‘I don’t even have cool fangs,’ I lamented, noticing the row of miniscule teeth in my mouth.

“Drink,” Eddie prompted, ignoring my complaints. And I did, surprised that I was able to down that much salt without gagging. It didn’t taste bad at all.

When I’d finished off the sea water Eddie stepped back and screwed the cap back on the canteen. I was about to ask him how long it would take to counter the potion when suddenly, in a puff of white, I was taller. Eddie was looking up at me from the floor, which was thankfully beneath feet I recognized. Feet that were mysteriously without socks, when I know I’d put on my favorite purple fuzzy ones this morning.

Looking in the mirror I was surprised to see that I was completely nude. My limbs felt stiff and sore, protesting when I brought my arms up in an attempt to cover myself.

“You walked right out of them,” Eddie said, spreading his wings to return back to his shelf. He sounded bored once again.

As I turned away from the mirror, a blur of motion caught my eye. I looked at my reflection, then at myself, then back at the mirror again, hoping I wasn’t seeing what I was seeing. “Do I have a tail?!”

“It’’ll be gone by morning,” Eddie said, sounding unbothered.

I couldn’t stop staring at it. It was dark green and scaly, extending from my lower back and nearly reaching the floor. It swayed slowly as I stared, and when I finally turned away from my reflection I felt it reach in the opposite direction, attempting to balance my suddenly shifted center of gravity. So gross...“But why didn’t this spell work?” I asked Eddie. “Why didn’t you tell me I’d done it wrong?”

“My job is to make sure you’re safe,” Eddie retorted, “Not to give you the right answers on your exams.”

I glared up at him, but he ignored me.

Leaning over the edge of the shelf to sniff at the cauldron once again, he added, “I did tell you to use fresh mugwart though.”

“And where am I supposed to get that?” I asked, making my way over to my desk. “It’s not like I have time to grow any myself at this point.”

“I know a place in town, we can go in the morning,” Eddie replied, curling his tail around himself preparing for sleep.

“Powdered is supposed to be the same thing,” I grumbled, collecting the now empty bottles and bowls I’d used for ingredients and stacking them in the cauldron with the remainder of the potion. Lastly, I reached for the chalice. Unfortunately, my arms were still stiff and my fingers were still adjusting to being human again. I fumbled with the glass and it fell to the concrete floor with a shattering crash.

Eddie’s head popped up, and he peered over the edge of the shelf to survey the damage.

The chalice was beyond repair, and was now a mess of sparkling crystal chips.

“Damn it!” I cursed, kneeling to collect the shards. “I’m so stupid! I can’t do this final without that. Now what, am I supposed to make potions in red Solo cups?! And that was a gift from my grandmother. Why can’t I just do one thing right?!”

I was surprised at the feel of cloth on my skin. Looking up, I saw my favorite couch blanket settling itself over my shoulders. I looked up at Eddie, and saw his tail twitch. The broken crystal prestidigitated up out of my hands and off the floor. It drifted across the room and poured into the kitchen trashcan. Then, as if it weighed nothing, the cauldron full of dirty glassware bobbed up off the desk and settled itself gently in the sink to get cleaned later.

“Don’t cry,” Eddie murmured, and only then did I realize I had been. Maybe I hadn’t stopped. “I know where we can get you a new one later today, alright? Everything’s going to be fine, you’ll see.”

I sniffed, surprised by his lack of cynicism. I must’ve really looked pathetic. I still hadn’t bothered to get up off the floor. “...I’m tired, Monster,” I said softly, pulling the blanket more tightly around myself.

“I know,” he said, for once not correcting my use of his nickname. “Go get some sleep, you’ll feel better in the morning.”

Just then, there was a knock at the door that startled us both. We looked at the door, and saw a clear shadow beneath it indicating someone was standing just on the other side.

I waited, holding my breath, hoping whoever it was would leave. A moment passed, then another, of silence. Yet their shadow remained.

“Once upon a midnight dreary,” Eddie whispered, slithering down to hide amongst the books. “As I pondered weak and weary, over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore...”

“Who is that?” I whispered to Eddie, still huddled in my blanket on the floor.

“Edgar Alan Poe,” he replied, unseen from the bookshelf. “It’s like you’ve never read a single book...”

“No I mean at the door!” I hissed.

“Why don’t you go ask them?”

Another soft knock on the door.

“Fine! I snapped back under my breath. “But if I get murdered there’ll be no one to buy you those shwarma wraps you love so much.”

“Softly there came a rapping, tapping, at my chamber door.”

I stood up quickly and started across the room towards the door.

“Clothes!” Eddie hissed from the shelf.

He was right, I couldn’t get murdered without clothes on, the embarrassment would be eternal. Fumbling through the pile of clothes on the floor I quickly slipped back into my pajamas. Unfortunately the tail was a problem, but I was still able to pull my shorts up enough to count. Not comfortably, but covered enough to answer the door.

Finally, I looked out the peephole to see who was there. It was a boy, about my age. I’d seen him around the building before, but couldn’t think of his name. Still, I figured the odds of him murdering me were low. He looked uncomfortable, not threatening.

I opened the door just wide enough to peek my upper body through, but not enough to let my tail be seen. From his perspective it probably just looked like I was trying not to let a pet out the door. “Um, can I help you?” I asked awkwardly.

“Uh, hi,” he responded, looking at me as if he was looking for something specific. I watched his eyes go from my eyes down to my body. He quickly brought his gaze back up to mine. “Um, this might sound weird but I live in the apartment below yours. I thought I heard something break, and someone yelling? And, well, I just wanted to make sure everything was ok?”

‘Crap, I guess I was being a little loud,’ I thought.

“’Tis just the wind,’ Eddie’s voice answered in my mind, ‘and nothing more...’”

I was taking too long to answer. “Um, yeah,” I said finally. I could feel my tail swishing behind me, seemingly in response to my stress. It made me feel off-balance. “Sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about though, I didn’t hear anything.”

“Oh,” he paused, running a hand through his hair and looking away, as if trying to think of something else to say. Clearly that wasn’t the answer he’d been expecting. He looked back at me after a moment. “Ok then, as long as you’re alright.”

“All good here,” I assured him, remembering to smile. “Must've just been the wind or something.”

“Right,” he said. I watched his eyes glance over me, as if he was trying to look past me for someone else. Did he actually think I was in trouble? “Yeah must’ve been. Sorry to bother you.”

“It’s ok, it’s...it’s kind of you to ask. I have to go back inside though.”

“Right, right. Um. Have a good night.”

“Thanks, you too,” I said, before quickly closing the door. I waited to hear him walk away, waited to hear the distant ding of the elevator, before locking the door with a loud clack.

Turning around, I saw Eddie returning to his spot on top of the bookshelf. “What a thoughtful boy,” Eddie said with sarcasm. “And so eloquent, too.”

“That was weird,” I agreed. “But I guess that’s what I get for being so loud this late at night.”

Eddie didn’t reply, and I was too tired to think about anything else.

“Whatever, I’m going to bed,” I said, heading towards my bedroom. “And if this tail isn’t gone when I wake up I’m going to run away and join the circus.”

------------------ {Allen}

I walked back to my apartment feeling totally embarrassed. What did I think was going to happen? I know I hadn’t heard the wind though, wind doesn’t break glass. Or cry. But I what else can I do?

Back in my apartment I flopped down on the couch. There was no way I’d be able to sleep tonight, so I turned the tv on for background noise. I hoped it would drown out my thoughts, but all I could think about was how uneasy she looked.

Her eyes were red from crying, I hadn’t imagined that. And she looked so stressed out. And the way she was almost hiding behind that door...something had to be going on. That smile...that was for my sake but it felt forced.

I groaned and threw an arm over my eyes, willing my brain to shut up and mind its own business.

If she wanted to talk to me, she would have.

...Right?

------------------

[THE NEXT NIGHT] {Zoe}

“Alright Eddie, tonight’s the night. I can feel it! Yesterday was just a practice run. Tonight's the night I get this right.”

He watched me set my grocery bag on the table. “Oh, is tonight the night you turn into an alligator?”

“Very funny, Monster,” I said, taking my hoodie off and throwing it on the couch. Thankfully the tail had disappeared overnight, just like Eddie said it would. “But no I’m over the whole reptile angle. I’ve changed my mind, I’m going to be a bird instead. How cool will that be, swooping down onto that rooftop terrace as a huge condor?”

“Did you know condors will regurgitate stomach acid as a reaction to stress or fear? It’s a type of defense mechanism.”

I grimaced. “Ok whatever, maybe not a condor. Maybe an eagle or a huge owl or something cool like that. But it’s going to work, you’ll see.”

He eyed my grocery bag with skepticism. “At least you got the right mugwart this time.”

“And a new goblet!” I plucked it from the bag and held it up for him to see. “What do you think?”

“Very nice,” he responded flatly. “Is there a fresh jar of ocean water in that bag as well?”

“Of course,” I muttered, pulling out said jar and setting it by the sink. “Not that I’ll need it.” Though just to be safe, I poured the water into a bowl and set it on the floor within easy reach.

Eddie said nothing, and simply watched from atop the bookshelf as I arranged my tools and measured out ingredients. Night had fallen, and the cityscape outside my window was a blur of glittering traffic lights and streetlamps.

Eddie watched me from me carefully, but kept quiet as I poured the dry ingredients into my freshly cleaned cauldron. I reached for the bonsai and plucked another sprig, this one with two blooms on it. I held it up towards Eddie’s perch on the bookshelf, “Care to do the honors?”

He said nothing, but only hesitated a moment before breathing a puff of flame onto the branch. I dropped it into the cauldron and watched the ingredients ignite with an impressive flash. This time they burned red-orange.

“Eddie, look!” I said, excited. “It wasn’t this color last night, I must be on the right track this time. I told you so!”

“Focus,” he chided. “I swear pigeons have larger attention spans...”

I ignored his distemper, and poured the liquid ingredients onto the flames. There was a cloud of orange smoke, and then it was finished. I peered down into the cauldron, and when I ladeled the potion into my new chalice it looked like weak tea, but I knew it was anything but.

“Well, what do you think?” I asked Eddie, holding the chalice up for him to inspect.

He sniffed it thoughtfully, then settled back onto his haunches. “It is safe,” he said after a moment.

I eyed him suspiciously. “No scales or tails this time?”

“Birds have tails.”

“Ah-ha! So I got it right didn’t I!”

“Only one way to know for sure...”

I downed the contents of the chalice and set it carefully on the table. “Why can’t you admit I was right for once?”

Eddie said nothing, and before I could press him further I started to feel the potion take effect. My shoulders hunched, my body felt like it was compressing in on itself, and in a bright yellow-orange flash, I was on the floor. Everything was much bigger than it should have been, but when I stretched out my limbs I felt feathered wings respond. I did it, I was a bird!

Just then, a truck thundered by on the street below, it’s blaring horn piercing through my skull at a volume that seemed deafening. I panicked, and before I knew what I was doing my body responded on its own. I was in the air but far from balanced. I was moving too fast, and the world kept tipping, first to one side, then the other. The room was somehow too big and too small. My heart was thundering in my chest, my fear compounding on itself.

I saw flashes of my apartment, but nothing looked how I remembered it. I had never looked down on my floorlamp before. Never touched where the ceiling met the wall before tonight. Never been this close to the top of the window. I caught sight of a pigeon in the window glass, staring back at me with wild eyes, mimicking my clumsy fluttering, and it only added to my fear.

‘Calm down!’ Eddie’s voice urged in my mind. ‘You’re letting the animal brain take over your human one, it was just a truck!’

I couldn’t reply, couldn’t hold still, couldn’t even find the floor. I just wanted out. Down and out and out and down and away-’

Then everything went dark. I flailed my wings but it did no good, I could feel myself pinned, sprawled out on the floor. Eventually, I realized I was trapped, and accepted my fate. In the persistent darkness, I actually started to feel tired. So tired, maybe I should just sleep and hope things were better when I woke up?

‘If you’re quite done,’ Eddie said in my mind. ‘If you think you can control yourself I’ll take the blanket off. Deal?’

I couldn’t form a response, to happy to just have a calm heart again.

‘I’ll take that as a yes.’

The world was bright again. I looked up at the walls, trying to get my bearings. Where...?

“Over here,” Eddie’s familiar voice sounded from somewhere beside me. Turning to find the source of his voice, I saw him on the floor standing beside the bowl of sea water I’d set out earlier. “Come on, drink it,” he said. “Unless you’d rather stay like this?”

I shuddered at the thought, and felt my feathers ruffle as my wings settled back into their place. I took a few tentative steps towards him, and felt my head bobbing slightly with each step. It made me feel dizzy, but I didn’t seem able to stop it. When I finally reached the bowl I didn’t have time to wonder how birds drink, it seemed like my body already knew.

There was a flash of orange smoke, and suddenly the furniture was back to its normal size. Eddie looked up at me from the floor.

“What...what was that?” I asked, still breathless.

“Pigeons scare easy,” he said simply. He turned away to fly back atop the shelf with practiced grace. “And you’re terrible at flying.”

“A- I was a PIGEON? Why?”

“What were you trying to be?”

“Not a pigeon!” I retorted. “An eagle maybe, or an owl or a hawk but not a stupid pigeon.”

“You must’ve been thinking about pigeons, or this wouldn’t have happened.”

“I...I only thought about them for a second because you brought them up! You said I had the attention span of a pigeon!”

“Clearly I was right,” Eddie snorted.

“You’re so annoying- this is ALL YOUR FAULT!”

…....(etc)

------------------ {Allen}

There was a loud crash from upstairs. This time, though, I was already awake. And I knew there wasn’t any wind tonight. I looked up from my phone, looked up at the wooden beam ceiling, and listened. There was nothing else for a bit, then some scrambling, almost a scratching sound on the floor. Then, silence again, followed by her voice again.

“--all your fault!”

She sounded really upset again. But was she yelling at someone else? Was there someone else up there with her?

My mind took a few dark turns. I’d only ever seen her alone around the building, but what if someone was up there with her? Someone who maybe only comes over at night? Maybe a boyfriend, or girlfriend? Either way, she sounded very unhappy with them. Which would make sense, if they were the cause of the loud crashing.

I knew I shouldn’t go up there again. I should keep out of it, especially since I don’t know the whole story. Or even half the story. But even as I was telloing myself all the reasons to stay in my apartment, I was already looking for my keys and pulling on my sweatshirt.

Best case scenario, I have the entirely wrong idea and I’m just annoying her. But worst case, well...

I shuddered, not wanting to think too much about the worst case scenario.

I walked down the hall and waited for the ancient elevator to crawl up to my floor. ‘I’ll just ask if she’s ok, and let her know that I’m here if she needs a friend. Where’s the harm in that? If nothing else, she’ll know she’s not alone.”

I fidgeted with my lanyard as the elevator reached her floor, and when the doors opened I shoved my hands in my pocket. I walked down the hall to her door, spotted the numbers painted on it, “513,” just a digit off from mine. I waited a moment, listening. She was definitely talking to someone, but I couldn’t hear anything beyond her general tone. She didn’t sound like she was crying, but she still sounded upset. I took a breath, reminding myself I was doing a good thing, and knocked.

The voices stopped. I waited, heard some shuffling around, then nothing. The silence seemed to strecth on forever, and just when I was about to head back downstairs, the door opened. “Um, hello?”

“Hi, uh sorry to bother you again. I heard a really loud crash, is everything alright?” Are you ok?

She looked annoyed, but quickly covered it with that familiar smile. “Everything’s fine here,” she said. “I think your ears are playing tricks on you.”

I studied her closely, noticed how she once again opened the door only as much as she had to. This time she was also wearing a jacket, zipped up all the way, hood up, and one hand clutching the fabric under her chin as if she wanted to cover as much skin as possible. I spotted a small white feather in her hair. Was she...did someone hit her with a pillow? It took me a minute to find my voice again. Tell her you’re here anyways, tell her you’re just downstairs if she ever needs anything, tell her- “Must’ve just been the wind again.”

“Ha yeah must’ve been. Your place must be drafty.”

Stupid that was NOT the plan you’re going off script! Ok try again. Say something comforting, let her know it’s ok, and that you’ll listen to her whenever she wants to talk!

“Thanks again for your concern...” she said, when I took too long to respond. “I have to go back in now though.”

“Right ok, sorry...”

She closed the door, leaving me alone in the hallway with my failure. Couldn’t even say ‘goodnight’ to her like a human being...

I went back downstairs, feeling completely defeated and useless.

I still didn’t even know her name.

------------------

[THE NEXT EVENING, SUNSET] {Zoe}

“Tonight’s the last chance, Eddie. There are only a few hours left before midnight. It’s all or nothing.”

“You don’t sound particularly excited,” he said from atop the bookshelf. “I should think you’d be glad for this to be nearing its end, one way or the other.”

I didn’t respond, instead keeping my focus on carefully lighting candles around the room. Having broken my lamp the night before, the only source of light was that over the stove in the kitchen, and that was too depressing to do spellwork by. I’d never been one for a lot of candles before, but now that I had no other choice I had to admit I liked the cozy glow.

“They add something to the atmosphere don’t they,” Eddie observed.

“They’re alright,” I said, returning to my desk. I started measuring out ingredients with careful precision.

“So what are we going for tonight?” Eddie asked.

“Honestly I’d settle for the pigeon again. I really wanted something awesome, but I just can’t fail this, Eddie. I’d rather do something simple and get it perfect, than try for something impressive and mess it up.”

“You’re definitely learning,” Eddie remarked.

Satisfied with my ingredients, I reached for the flowering plant on my window. However, I paused before plucking another sprig from it. “I...should probably open the window while I still have hands,” I muttered. Whatever I ended up flying to school tonight as, it probably wasn’t going to be something with the dexterity to open window locks. Even if it was smart enough, like a crow, it wouldn’t have the strength. ‘A crow might not be a bad idea...’

Forcing the old wooden frame open, I looked out past the rusting fire escape at the city beyond. The last rays of sunlight glinted off glass and steel, and there was a pleasantly warm breeze. And above the din of city noise, there was...music? Soft guitar accompanied the vaguely familiar lyrics:

Lean on me When you're not strong And I'll be your friend I'll help you carry on...

For it won't be long Till I'm gonna need somebody to lean on

You just call on me brother When you need a hand We all need somebody to lean on.......

“I guess someone else has their window open too,” I muttered.

“Is that Bill Withers?” Eddie asked, head cocked towards the window.

“Who?”

He looked disappointed. “Nevermind,” he trailed off.

I realized how close it sounded. Lowering my voice, I asked Eddie, “Is that coming from downstairs?”

He listened for a moment before responding, “It would seem your new friend wants you to lean on him?” he said, a hint of humor in his voice.

“He seemed so worried the other night...what must he think is going on up here? I hope he doesn’t think I’m in trouble or something.”

“I think his concern is a rarity...” Eddie replied.

“He does seem like a good guy,” I agreed. “Well, after tonight he’ll get some peace and quiet. Hopefully the chaos is over with...” Returning my attention to the task at hand, I started carefully pouring dry ingredients into the cauldron.

Satisfied with the contents of the cauldron so far, I reached for the plant on my window. I felt bad taking another branch from it so soon, it looked so much smaller than it had at the start of the week. This has to work this time, I’m going to make it work,’ I told myself. The branch I took was small this time, but had two blooms and a small bud on it.

I offered it up to Eddie to light, but he didn't. “Well?” I said when he just stared at me.

“Cheer up, you’ve got this.”

I was surprised by his soft tone. “Wow, I look that miserable?”

“Even worse,” he agreed.

I couldn’t help but grin at his sarcasm. “C’mon,” I said, “let’s do this. Fire away, Monster!”

He grinned despite himself, and breathed a healthy burst of yellow flame at the flowering branch. It caught instantly, and I dropped it into the cauldron. The ingredients went up in a burst of scarlet fire, the flames jumping high above my head. I felt as if the fire was challenging me, daring me to back down, but I refused. I doused it with the liquid ingredients confidently and with purpose. The contenst of the cauldron simmered and spat as the heat died down, but the light remained.

Looking down into the cauldron I watched as the potion stopped bubbling and steaming, yet it continued to glow a deep red. This had never happened before. I looked iup at Eddie, suddenly afraid I’d made a wrong turn.

He sniffed the air, then looked down at me. “Go ahead,” was all he said.

I felt hesitant, but forced myself to ladel out the potion with a confident hand. It even glowed when in the chalice, the cut crystal sparkling in its light. I looked at Eddie again and he nodded. I took a breath and downed the potion before fear could work its way in.

I set the chalice down on the desk. The potion felt warm, almost hot, and the warmth quickly spread through my entire body. For a moment I only saw red, and then...my normal apartment again. I was a bit shorter than before, now just barely eye level with the desk. I couldn’t speak, but looking up at Eddie I mentally asked, ‘What...am I?’

“It would seem you’re a phoenix,” he replied, sounding genuinely impressed.

‘I’m a WHAT? That’s not funny, Eddie...’

“I never thought I’d see one in this age,” he said, hopping down to the desk to get a closer look.

“I can’t be a phoenix,” I thought. “Those don’t exist. You said I can’t be things that don’t exist.”

“Of course they exist,” he scoffed. “Who ever told you they don’t?”

I paused. ‘But then...why didn’t the dragon spell work? You said it was because the dragon I was trying ot be didn’t exist?’

“I haven’t seen one in centuries,” he replied. “But the reason your spell didn’t work is because you were too distracted by your own doubts.”

“...oh.”

“And you used powdered mugwart.”

If this body could have scoffed, it would have.

“Care to take a look at yourself before we head out? Or should we just go now, while there’s still some light left?”

‘Are you kidding of course I want to see what a real phoenix looks like, where’s my-’

The full length mirror from my cloet materialized beside me before I could complete the thought. I turned to look, and was stunned silent. The brilliant scarlet plumage, the long tail, the piercing black eyes. And I had to be the size of a large dog, maybe even bigger. ‘Wow...am I going to fit through that window?’

“Only one way to find out,” Eddie replied from the desktop. “Ladies first...”

There was a bit of graceless scrambling as I clambored up onto the desk, but I managed to not knock the cauldron over at least. However I couldn’t say the same for my plant. It fell ont the fire escape with a clang, but I barely noticed. Eddie slipped past me and perched on the railing.

“Lead the way!” he said, sounding as giddy as I felt.

My heart thundering in my chest, I lept from the fire escape and out over the city. I should’ve been afraid that my wings wouldn’t support me, or that I might not know how to fly, but I wasn’t. I was too overwhelmed with the bliss of true flight. I felt weightless, confident, and free. I soared over the city with my familiar at my side, reveling in the feel of the wind in my feathers, and the warmth of the day’s last sunrays on my face.

------------------ {Allen}

There was a loud crash from upstairs. I heard something hit the fire escape above mine, and looked up. There was a blur of red, something impossibly huge. For a moment my heart was in my throat, then I realized the red flash wasn’t falling, it was flying. I tried to watch it disappear over the city, but the sunset glared painfully in my eyes and I had to look away. I rubbed my eyes, then with one hand shielding the worst of the glare, I looked again. But it was too late, it was gone. All I could see were two small shapes twisting away through the sky, shrinking into the horizon.

------------------

[A WEEK+ LATER; EPILOGUE] {Allen}

I was startled by a sudden knock on my door.

I muted the tv, unsure of what I had heard, but then after a moment of silence it came again. A soft, yet persistent knock. My mind scrambled through a hundred different possabilites of who it could be, ranging from murderer to lost delivery man to a long lost twin, but I pushed them all aside and decided to just go answer the door.

I paused, looking though the peephole, and was surprised. Of all the hundreds of scenarios that had just flickered through my mind, this was not one of them.

My neighbor stood there, smiling at the peephole as if she knew I was looking out at her. I fumbled with the lock and quickly opened the door. “Hi! Um,” too much, tone it down. “Hi, is everything ok?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” she assured me. “I just...wanted to stop by and give you something. To thank you for checking on me last week.”

I stared, not knowing how to respond. As if she knew this, she was quick to fill the silence. “I brought you something,” she said, drawing my attention to what was in her hands. She held it up for me to see. “It’s a windchime,” she said. “Y’know, since your place is so drafty and all? ”

I connected the dots after what I hoped wasn’t too long of a pause. “That’s really nice of you,” I said, gently taking it from her outstretched hand. Something about it looked familiar. Those red feathers...”I um, I love that color,” I said. “What kind of bird are these from?”

“They’re fake,” she rushed to say. “I got them at the craft shop.”

“Ah ok...” I studied them closely. They felt so soft. “Um, thank you. And...I’m gad you’re ok. You seem...happier today.”

“Yeah sorry if I was a little short with you last week. Final exams had me all kinds of stressed.”

I nodded. “I know how that is,” I lied. I’d never been to college, but I let the lie go for the sake of conversation. A thought hit me then. “Um, I’m Allen, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you Allen,” she replied with a warm smile. “I’m Zoe.”

Well, um, Zoe, I was just about to order some takeout. If you haven’t eaten yet, would you want to join me?”

“I have a better idea,” she replied. “I know of a place down the street that makes great shwarma wraps if you’re up for it?”

“Sure! Um, yeah that sounds great.” I realized then that I was in my pajamas. The humiliation. “Meet me downstairs in five minutes?”

“Sounds good!”

[trailing off down the street]

“This place is great, I go here every week. This might sound weird but I buy a second wrap for my, uh, bird.”

“Can birds eat meat?”

“He probably shouldn’t but he does. If I don’t buy him his own wrap he just steals mine.....”

[END]

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