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blessedarethebinarybreakers · 6 months

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This post used to hold a poem inspired by the Rev. Munther Isaac's declaration that "God is under the rubble in Gaza."

After a few anons and a conversation with a Jewish friend, I've decided to take the poem down because, regardless of my own intentions with it, it risks feeding the long and extremely harmful history of blood libel, because I included imagery of the infant Jesus and his parents being killed by an Israeli soldier, as many Palestinians are being killed now.

Before talking with that friend, I wrote in this response to an anon about my intentions with the poem — but while I do believe that intentions do matter, they don't matter nearly as much as impact does.

My friend helped me come to the conclusion that while the poem I wrote could be interpreted as I intended by people who already have all the context I wrote it in (see below), it could also all too easily be interpreted much more harmfully by those who lack that context — or worse, who are looking for more fuel for their antisemitism. The poem is not worth that risk, not at all.

___

Ultimately, I hold two things I believe to be true in tension:

that Christians throughout the ages have found deep comfort and encouragement in understanding Jesus as suffering in and with them. I support all Christian Palestinians who, like Rev. Isaac, experience God-with-them in this way — in this horrific time, they deserve any ounce of comfort they can derive. And them personally seeking and finding the Divine presence with them is not antisemitic.

that for Christians like myself in the USA, who live in the beating heart of Empire and Christian Supremacy, it is vital to take care in how we talk about this theology in this current situation, where the oppressors are Jewish. Providing more fuel for Christian antisemitism is inexcusable, and I deeply apologize for writing and sharing a piece that can be used in that way.

Because modern-day Israel is a Jewish state, exploring that Divine solidarity in this context comes with a great risk of perpetuating the long, harmful history of antisemitic blood libel and accusations of deicide. How do we affirm God’s presence with those suffering in Palestine without (implicitly or explicitly) adding to the poisonous lie that “the Jews killed Jesus”?

In wrestling with this complexity, I tried to write this poem to uplift both Jesus’s Jewishness and his solidarity with Palestinians. Jesus was born into a Jewish family, his entire worldview was shaped by his Jewishness, and he shared in his people’s suffering under the Roman Empire. His solidarity with Palestinians of various faiths suffering today does not erase that Jewishness. Nor does it mean that Jewish persons don’t “belong” in the region — only that modern Israel’s occupation of Palestine is in no way necessary for Jews to live and thrive there, or anywhere else in the world.

I also aimed to point out that Israel is by no means acting alone in this attack on Gaza or their decades-long occupation of Palestine. There is a much larger Empire at work, with my own country, the United States, at the helm. Israel is entangled in that imperial mess, and directly backed and funded by those forces — not because of what politicians claim, that we have to back Israel or else we’re antisemitic, but because Israel is our strategic foothold in the so-called Middle East. How do we name our complicity as our tax dollars are funneled into violence across the world, and act to end that violence?

___

I'm sorry this post isn't as articulate as I want it to be. All of this to say: I deeply apologize for any hurt my poem caused. I understand how horrific Christianity's history of — and ongoing present — antisemitism is, and how it poisons and warps so much that could have been beautiful. I'll keep educating myself; I'll keep having hard conversations; I'll keep working to uproot antisemitism in myself and my communities.

___

I'll close with a list of resources for learning about Palestine's history and getting involved.

#deeply grateful E that you were willing to have that conversation with me!#you didn't have to and i appreciate the time and energy you spent doing so. solidarity forever <3

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shadesoflsk · 3 months

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MOONTALK

pairing: Leon Kennedy x GN Reader.

summary: After retiring, Leon often has nightmares about his past. Talking under the moon's gaze seems to help.

warnings: Smut MDNI, just oral (m receiving), angst to fluff to smut hehe, mentions of death, violence, and alcohol, catholic symbolism, dad bod leon hehe (x2) subby leon, reader is called spouse.

word count: 3.5k

author's note: Hello! This is very simple since I'm trying to get better at writing smut for gender neutral readers :) There's not enough content and while I improve at writing the whole sex scene I shall bring you this! (I'm open to suggestions or constructive criticism.) As always, I hope you're having a good week!

The starry night is chosen to be Leon’s witness in the middle of his stolen slumber.

It’s a common occurrence, part of himself longs for the pain-filled activity since it serves as a reminder of his own life. Night terrors scare him more than his anxiety. The first one clings to his soul and threatens him with an inability to wake up. Helpless to his own mind, he prefers to be fully awake.

However, his brain isn’t his friend. Even when awake and aware of his surroundings, his mind would recreate scenarios he has lived before. Blood dripping and sticking to his combat boots, the smell of the iron-ish liquid filling his nostrils painfully making its home in Leon’s head, messing up with his perception of the world and himself.

Somewhere in that messed up path, he had found you.

He didn’t intend to, it wasn’t in his plans to. He had locked his heart and thrown the key somewhere in the sea of his failures.

A feeling of regret brimmed in Leon’s soul. How could his name be attached to yours if the sole mention of Leon Scott Kennedy brought memories of hell on Earth? A former rookie cop, ready to risk his life on duty turned into the government's best weapon. He’s made peace with that, ever since his mission in San Francisco his life has gotten significantly better.

But that doesn’t mean it has stopped hurting.

He once heard Jesus presented his left cheek to be slapped. In the past, he’d have imagined the mere thought of being that naive was ridiculous.

“You have heard that it was said, 'Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.' But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also.”

Now, that passage has been planted in his heart like a thorn that wouldn't go away no matter how much he pinched the skin. But rather than being a bothersome feeling, it shaped him into the man he is now.

He would never be Jesus, he knows that much. Ever since he was a kid, his connection to religion was always dangling between trust and distrust; faith and doubt. Fear crossed his juvenile and innocent expression whenever he came across a statue of the people’s lord and savior.

God bad, Jesus good. People good and bad. The Old Testament was the backbone for Leon’s hatred towards God. If this supernatural being ‘loved’ his people, why would he punish them?

Sins are ambiguous. Killing is bad. But if he had killed creatures that were no longer humans, is he a sinner without redemption?

He’s still coming around that last statement. Were they really no longer humans?

That’s why he prefers the New Testament. A fresh start, a new life being born. Jesus wouldn’t judge him for the man that he was and is.

And just like him, he turned his left cheek in a mission in San Francisco years ago, when he ended Maria’s life. Bitter and revengeful for killing her father, the woman made it her mission to murder Leon. But ultimately (and ironically) she ceased to exist in Leon’s arms.

‘Revenge’ was met with a ‘Now you can be with your dad again.’ Merciful, he had granted her a last moment of peace.

The soundless night heightens Leon’s senses. As he tries to brush off his worries, some footsteps break the unnerving silence that Leon is in. His ears focus on the soft pace that he easily identifies as yours.

Recognition turned into monotone and monotone into mundane. And don’t get him wrong, God he loves feeling he has finally found his home.

Leon’s arms are resting on the balcony railway, blue eyes focused on the starry night.

“You should be sleeping.” He flatly says without turning to face you. Not out of apathy but guilt. Not being next to you has woken you up.

“Can’t sleep without my husband.”

Sensing you approaching, he opts to tease, trying to divert your attention somewhere else. “Wouldn’t be my dear spouse if you weren’t clingy.”

“I’m not clingy.” But you wouldn’t allow Leon’s usual antics. You know them by heart, lighthearted jokes instead of facing reality. “I’m just worried,”

“You worry too much.”

“But I’m always right.”

A sigh.

Teeth biting the inside of his cheek.

“It’s hard to sleep sometimes.” The phrase is not directed at you, but a response to his own thoughts. For him, safe and sound sleep is a blessing he’s not lucky enough to receive.

“I know.” And then again, your reply isn’t about yourself. A feeble smile appears on your face out of empathy and partial understanding. Standing next to him, your elbows rest on the balcony railway, the chill air sending goosebumps through your skin. “Did you dream about something?”

Leon’s eyebrows knit in concentration as he mull over her question. When he tries recalling his past moment of slumber he is met with the usual gruesome scenario and the same gut-wrenching screams.

“Same old tale.” He exhales. In the past he would have had a glass of whiskey in his hand, tilting the content to one side as he gazed over the starry sky. But he made a promise, and as much as his past comes back to haunt him, he’d keep it.

“Is that it?”

“Yes.”

“Why I don't believe you?”

He brings a calloused hand to his mouth as he registers your words. Under the moonlight, his expression gives away his exhausted state, a hint of darkness around his eyes, a permanent faint frown.

“You don’t want to know.”

“Yet here I am asking.” It’s not until now that you notice Leon’s shirtless torso. Most of his scars are turning a light white color while his bruises are changing their hues. His body is not the same from a few years ago. His abdomen no longer shows off his chiseled abs but a slightly round and soft belly.

“Feels like I’m walking in circles.” He finally answers with his eyes closed. His restless mind can’t give him a break. Unable to completely live in peace, he finds himself pondering about his own humanity.

“The past is always clearer at night.” With an expression akin to resignation, he looks at you. “And the past tells me I’m a monster.”

The faint sound of the clock could be heard even when they were both gazing into the sky and letting their thoughts be consumed by the chill night. It reaches the dreaded ‘Devil’s hour,’ 3 AM.

“You aren’t a monster.” And it is the truth. While Leon is a complex man, it is not a difficult task to unravel and search through the layers he has covered himself in. His heart beats for the nation and therefore its citizens.

“If I’m not a monster then what am I?” He replies, his face growing somber. “If what I’ve done isn’t destruction what is it?”

“Salvation.”

It is far from salvation. It’s selfish to even think that way.

Sadly, Leon was the designated pawn to complete the job nobody wants to do.

Sadly, Leon is no more than a victim in the web of despair and destruction.

“Salvation.” He scoffs, a sharp ironic demonstration that your words weren’t the best. “I used to fight while the innocents kept falling at my feet.”

A glimpse of a past self appears in front of you. Chaos and loathing unfurls.

It’s been years since you last saw the man who used to drown himself in the deadly burning liquid. However, the alcohol no longer filled the empty spaces in his body and soul.

Truthfully speaking, nobody can fix or heal anyone. But you gladly took the role of being Leon’s partner in life. Not only romantically speaking. Silently, you made a home in Leon’s heart and he was too comfortable with you to ask you to leave him.

“You didn’t do it in the first place.” You place a comforting hand on his shoulder. “The government did.”

“But I was just another bullet in a gun.” He replies softly, his gaze drifting forward. Even after all of these years, he couldn’t completely shake off the guilt that kept haunting him. “Another man with his finger on the trigger… I was just a man with a gun.”

“And you’re also a man with a heart.” You respond immediately, not giving him a chance to continue his venom-filled words toward himself.

“If you were the demon you think you are, these late-night thoughts wouldn’t be haunting you as they do. You wouldn’t be mourning every soul even after all these years.” Your words bring a sense of comfort amidst the internal battle that is occurring inside him. The weight of his burden has always been more bearable with you.

“You think I’m that much of a saint?” A faint smile tug at Leon’s lip. A troubled expression on his face tells you he is still not believing your words. Or perhaps, he feels like he shouldn’t believe you.

“I don’t think you’re a saint. Humans are much more than black or white, good or bad. We are gray.”

Your statement is true. Humans are far from being one-dimensional beings. The balance has always been there and he knows it. When he was a child and religion was still an important part of his life, he remembers when Jesus protected Mary Magdalene.

‘He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.’

Leon had stained his hands with blood and gore, but he had also saved countless lives when the odds were against him.

“God… I’m pathetic, aren’t I?” He laughs, finally bringing you closer to him with his arm around your waist.

“No, you’re just human.” You reply, admiring the view your balcony provides, you think about the endless possibilities in life. If you hadn't met Leon, where would you be? And if Leon hadn't met you? How his life would look right now?

Universe works in mysterious ways, if you hadn't been in the right place at the right time, you wouldn't have your soulmate next to you.

A comfortable silence sets in as Leon finally relaxes and gives his mind a break. There were days and nights in which his brain was weak, but that doesn’t mean he hasn't gotten better.

“I would do laundry and taxes with you in every timeline.” You break the silence with a quote from a movie both of you had watched and Leon being the moviegoer he is, you know he’ll recognize it.

“That's not how the line goes, you silly.”

Bingo.

“Then enlighten me, Mr. I know every movie by heart.”

“It is ‘in another life, I would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you.’” He states matter-of-factly which gains a laugh from you. But in a way, you’re used to his antics and almost nerdy personality only you get to see.

But your words mixed with the ones from the movie hold a glimmer of truth. Even in a timeline in which he wasn’t an agent and just a regular citizen, you’d have fallen for him. Because his past doesn’t make him the man he is now.

In another life, you’d love him over and over again.

“But I’d do all those things in this life and even in the afterlife.”

His eyes fall on you, the glimmer in them now being obvious. Just a few words from his love would pull him out from his depressive nights.

“You never cease to amaze me.”

“I’m just amazing like that.” You wrap your arms around Leon's neck while his hands rested on your middle section. “Now hug me because I’m fucking freezing.”

“Let’s go inside, shall we?” Laughing, he pulls you closer in a tight embrace. “I’d hate for you to catch a cold. Besides… I need my cuddling partner every night.”

As both of you move out of the balcony and away from the cold wind of the night. Leon’s hands move painfully obvious to your rear. After his late thoughts, he only wants to feel you close to him.

“I don’t think you want to cuddle.” You remark the obvious. Leon just chuckles, nodding.

“Aside from being the perfect partner you’re also a mind reader?”

You step in your bedroom. Place that has been witness to Leon’s most vulnerable moments, from the times in which he'd come back from a mission to the ones in which both of you would get lost in each other's bodies.

His sanctuary, your heaven.

You smile at him as you motion him to sit down on the bed. Both of your eyes are locked in a gaze that says what you are feeling, love. No matter how hard his or your days could be, both of you could always come back to a partner that takes care of them. No matter the situation.

As he takes a seat on the edge of the bed, you lean closer and press a kiss to his forehead, to his nose, to his cheek, and lastly to his lips. This last one lingers more than the others, sweet and slow, like how you want to treat him tonight.

“I love you.” You whisper as you pull back from the kiss, your thumb grazing over his stubbled jaw.

“Love you more.” He responds with the same tenderness you have brought him. After saying his words, his hands traveled to where your hips were, attempting to pull you closer.

“Nuh-uh. Tonight’s about you, sir.” You have your mind set that this night is going to be all about the perfect husband you have in front of you.

With that, your lips once again found their home but this time it was on Leon’s neck.

With your lips giving some attention to Leon’s sensitive skin, you treat him like he was fragile porcelain.

After a few moments, you slowly lower yourself until you're between his thighs. Another reminder of how much his body has changed, his thighs were fuller and bit less toned than before.

He has seen you like this before, on your knees and with the sweetest of looks but dear God it gets better every day.

You press your cheek against Leon’s inner thigh, your hand rubbing the flesh that is still covered with his sweatpants. He was no longer an active agent therefore he had gained some weight which you completely love. He blames the alcohol he used to drink so much and the lack of high-impact exercise. But you always reassure him that you love him nonetheless.

Your hand creeps to his clothed crotch, you gently trace along the bulge that has already formed. Leon’s breath is starting to get heavier but nothing too scandalous, for now.

“I haven’t even touched properly and you’re already this hard.” You are trying to be gentle, but there’s something about having control over him even when you’re on your knees that just prompts you to tease him a hit.

“Might as well cum in the spot, don’t you think? Bet you’re already imagining me pulling down your boxers and stroking your cock.” The face Leon was making could send you straight to heaven.

“You’re the devil…” Leon tries, he tries to gather himself by making a joke. But his high-pitched speech comes out pathetic. A rebuttal? More like a whine.

“What? My handsome husband can’t handle the spice? I expected better.” The praise seems to hit a spot somewhere in his body because the way his hips just bucked and sought the friction of your hand was contradictory to his previous words.

“Please…” And after that whimper, you no longer want to tease the man. Especially tonight in which he deserves the best.

“Ok, ok. I gotcha…” You murmur, wasting no more time and pulling his sweatpants down. A wet spot is already formed in his gray boxers. Then again, more teasing words flood your mind but you brush them off.

With a gentle kiss on his inner thigh, your fingers hook around the fabric and slide it down. His dick springs forward, and as always, it makes your mouth water. It’s the same image as always, slightly curved lenght with veins you had memorized by now and a reddish tip that tells you how bothered and pent-up he’s been.

Marriage has always been depicted as a boring and monotonous lifestyle, in which you get bored of your spouse after a couple of years. In a sense, you understand where they come from. However, Leon and you always made sure to keep things interesting, and as corny as it sounds, both of you try to make the other fall in love again.

You press a kiss on his tip, holding back a laugh as you know how sensitive he must be. The slightest touch has him gripping the bedsheets.

“You’re teasing.” He says as his lips form a pout. His calloused hands flatten on top of your hair

“Am I?” You give his shaft a few kitten licks, not breaking eye contact while doing so.

Finally, your shenanigans are followed by your lips wrapping around his tip, sucking the area. That gains a whimper out of Leon, the ones you’re so used to.

When you first met the stoic agent, you wouldn’t have thought that he’d be so vocal in bed. Even when he was supposed to be on top, he’d let the most beautiful moans against your ears. asking for permission to continue, asking for permission to fill you up.

For a moment, your lips continue sucking off his tip. Your saliva coating the area and sloppily making out with the head of his dick. Your fingers wrap around the base of it, almost overwhelming Leon with the amount of attention he is receiving.

“Ah — Fuck…” His eyes roll back as you finally take him whole. The previous ministrations long forgotten as your mouth and part of your throat surround his sensitive cock.

You bob your head, slowly at first, controlling your breath as Leon involuntarily thrusts his hips making his tip hit the back of your throat. You place your hand on Leon’s thigh, to motion him to stand still.

“Shit — sorry, sorry…” His voice gets slightly higher, now his previous words turn into pleas or straight-up moans. Drool pools at the corner of your mouth as your tongue runs on the underside of his cock.

“Too good for me…” He’s reduced to just babbles and whines, his knuckles turn white as keeps on gripping the bedsheets, an awful attempt to drown more moans. As you continuously bob your head, Leon could feel his high coming.

Unconsciously and given his dazed out state, he brings his leg to your shoulder. You were completely focused on him and this simple action made your concentration break a bit. He’s putty in your hands, his brain no longer functioning whenever you are in control.

You’d edge him, you’d definitely tease him for that. But now, you just continue sucking him off with the inner side of his thigh brushing against your cheek.

“I’m gonna — Fuck…” It’s not a warning, but a comment, a needy announcement. As much as he denies it, there’s not a better image than seeing you covered with his cum, or watching you swallow it whole. It made him feel a sense of pride, knowing that his spouse is the one making him come undone.

And as your tongue runs along a vein, he couldn’t contain it any longer. With a high pitched whine and throwing his head back, he spills down your throat.

The warm liquid fills your mouth and some of it drips from the corner of your lips.

You stay still for a moment, collecting every last drop of Leon’s cum. When you feel Leon’s hand on your shoulder —the one that doesn’t have his leg on it— you know he was asking you for a break.

Pulling out with a pop, you gently move his leg for him to rest.

For a few seconds, you just massage your jaw as Leon tries to recover. Heavy breaths fill the dark room, allowing you to relax once again.

“You good?” You ask as you are sitting down on the floor.

“Yeah — Just… give me a second.” He laughs, closing his eyes. A loving smile forms on his face.

You laugh too, getting up from the floor, you admire the scene Leon provides you: All of his body exposed to you, his sweatpants and boxers pooling at his ankles, and his fucked out expression.

Heaven.

After a minute or so, Leon composes himself.

“I’ll make sure to wake up every night if this is the treatment I get.”

“Next time I will just tie you up to the bed.”

“Oh? I like the sound of that.”

Laughing, you slap his naked chest as he pulls you closer. Nights like this are a reminder of his humanity and his right to love and to be loved. The past can never be changed or forgotten, but he can learn from it.

💬shadesoflsk: Comments, reblogs and likes are very much appreciated.

author's note 2: I just had to mention eeaao! It's one of my favorite movies and I know Leon would love it. Sorry if it was too sappy of me but then again... I'm always like that.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy smut #resident evil #resident evil x reader

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katakaluptastrophy · 2 months

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"I’ve already pretty much revealed that Alecto begins with the descent of Christ into Hades." - Tamsyn Muir

That's right...it's time for more Bible study for fans of weird queer necromancers!

It's currently Holy Week, the week where Western liturgical Christians reenact the events of Jesus' death and resurrection in real time. And today, it's Holy Saturday. So Jesus died on the cross on Good Friday. He rises from the dead on Easter Sunday. But what happened in between? His body lay in the tomb...but his spirit was otherwise preoccupied. Because on Holy Saturday, Jesus went to Hell.

But why would Jesus go to Hell? Because the resurrection was not just about saving the people who came after it - it was a bit more...wibbly wobbly, timey wimey.

To be a bit more specific, he didn't visit Hell Hell. The place Jesus visited isn't Hell in the sense of eternal punishment of the damned, but Hades or Sheol or the Underworld or Limbo - a place for those who were mostly good but lived before Jesus' resurrection had made salvation possible. So before his resurrection, Jesus went to make that salvation retroactive. Particularly, according to tradition, to major figures from the Old Testament, including Adam and Eve.

So Nona the Ninth ended with Harrow walking off into the River in search of theological truth. And Alecto the Ninth apparently begins with Harrow in Hell:

Alecto the Ninth, ACT ONE HARROW IN HELL CHAPTER 1 At a point in the slit she was carving through life, Harrowhark Nonagesimus woke to find herself lost in a dark wound. She had been walking when it had all gone black– any path ahead or behind was blotted out; now she was here. - Tamsyn Muir reading at TorCon

This is riffing heavily on the beginning of Dante's Inferno:

"In the middle of the journey of our life I came to myself within a dark wood where the straight way was lost." - Dante Alighieri, Inferno

But lots of people go to Hell. What's so special about Harrow going there? Because the traditional name in English for Jesus' chthonic salvation adventures on Holy Saturday is "the Harrowing of Hell." "Harrow" comes from an Old English word meaning to attack or despoil - a very martial way of expressing the idea of Jesus as the victor over sin and death.

Harrow ended NTN realising that she cannot trust John's account of metaphysics. That she needs to discover the reality for herself. The faith of the Nine Houses and John's own styling as god rests on the foundation of the Resurrection - John is the "ransomer of death, scourge of death, vindicator of death", his power is understood to be absolute: "Let the whole of everywhere entrust themselves to him. Let those across the river pledge beyond the tomb to the adept divine."

And yet even that prayer - "let those across the river..." - introduces doubt. Magnus jumps in to silence Abigail when she expresses her heretical belief in the River beyond, and Harrow herself scoffs that "it has been thousands of years since anybody bothered to believe in the River beyond." Abigail believes that John knows nothing about what exists beyond the River. And what about Hell? In HTN, Ulysses the First is described as "languishing in Hell" after his run-in with a Resurrection Beast. John himself describes the stoma as "the mouth to Hell", "a portal to a place I cannot touch - somewhere I don't fully comprehend, where my power and my authority are utterly meaningless."

In the Book of Revelation - the Bible's account of the end of the world - Jesus holds "the keys of death and Hell". John may have resurrected the dead, but he does not comprehend what is beyond it. Both the destination of the good, the River beyond to which the souls of little Isaac and Jean should have traveled lightly after their short and brutal lives, and the Hell that lies beneath the stoma are outside of his power. He is a few keys short of the full divine bunch. He can manipulate death, but he is not really its master.

And so Harrow walks off into the River to look for something or someone she can call god. Harrow, who shares a name with the defeat of death across time and space. Harrow, who is of the unbroken line of Anastasia. Anastasia was kind to Alecto, who like Eve is the mother of all and like Adam walked on the empty earth with god.

In Orthodox icons, the Harrowing of Hell is depicted with Jesus triumphant, leading Adam and Eve by the hand from their tombs. The traditional term for this image is an anastasis, the Greek term for resurrection. Adam and Eve, whose sin broke the intended shape of reality, are restored to wholeness with god.

How will Harrow answer her questions about god? What really is beyond the stoma and what would it mean to conquer it? What does it look like, metaphysically, to restore the world of The Locked Tomb to wholeness, and what will it cost?

#the locked tomb #tlt meta #harrowhark nonagesimus #john gaius #alecto the first #anastasia the first

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aswaki · 1 month

Note

Does matt like giving oral?

seok matthew x reader. blurb. explicit (minors dni). contains: afab bodied!reader, oral (reader receiving), body worshipping

matthew is not a pious man but he swore his faith gets reaffirmed whenever he goes down on you.

his lips parted in reverence as he kissed your body all over, especially your thighs and what was in between them. a silent prayer to let him get a taste of heaven. granting him access meant you received one of the most loyal devotees ever; rivaling what jesus had with his apostles. maybe it was innate— he was named matthew, afterall.

he started slow but you still couldn’t stifle the sounds that took flight out of your mouth. he heard the choirs of angels sing from your pleasurable moans as his tongue leisurely dragged itself on your slit.

matthew was undemanding at lapping up your arousal. he was honoured to be in this position so he swore wouldn’t do anything to make you feel anything less than holy.

ah, what a tongue he had. it was unbelievably thick and hot; every stroke had you throbbing for something more.

he pulled away abruptly deciding to kiss the lips you had below. the air in your lungs was gone. it was replaced with fiery lust that made you feel so sinful.

if this was not ‘right’, then why does it feel good? surely, this was holy. (you were a deity to him so you could call the shots.)

gone was the soft tenderness as matthew ate you like a starved man receiving food from his god. his veiny hand squeezed your trembling plush thigh; a reminder to himself of who he was with it during this surreal moment.

he wanted to hear your divine noises once more. he nuzzled his face to your cunt, spearing his tongue deeper than what he had done before. he prodded your velvety insides while his nose rubbed against your clit. wave after wave of pleasures ran through your body. it felt you were ascending to a sacred plane that was created only for the both of you.

matthew was ravenous after tasting you. he didn't want to be deprived of you even for a single second. he brought you something that was earthly and raw that no god should ever experience. you liked it, though— how his lips suckled on your clit, how his tongue lapped your folds and thrusted in your hole.

he ate you out like he wanted you to strip your soul bare.

don’t ask matthew silly questions because, of course, he liked giving oral. it was a way he could show you unadulterated adoration.

he thought of it as part of worship. matthew wanted to give you everything that he can— he’d offer to give you whatever you desired, even burn in hell if you asked him to.

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beatrice-otter · 11 months

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Time Travel killing Jesus and the religion of empire

There's a post about time travel going around tumblr, and somebody tagged that they would kill Mary before the birth of Jesus, so that Christianity wouldn't exist. Problem is, while that might indeed kill Christianity, it would probably just mean that Constantine would slot Mithraism into his Imperial domination schemes instead. In the late 200s AD there were two mostly-underground monotheistic mystery cults rapidly gaining adherents in the Roman Empire. There were a lot of similarities between the two, at least superficially. For example, there was a lot of emphasis on communal ritual meals. One was Christianity. The other was Mithraism. Constantine was intrigued by both. We know he was involved in Mithraism in his youth. But what Constantine really liked the idea of using religion to unify the Roman Empire. By the 300s, the Roman Empire was beginning to fragment, with regular civil wars. Constantine came to power in one of those civil wars. He thought that if everyone worshiped the same god (instead of different gods worshiped in different places, with the Roman pantheon and emperors as a thin veneer of unity), it would help keep the whole ramshackle edifice together. (Spoiler alert: it did not.) So he picked one of the two monotheistic religions that was rapidly gaining in popularity, and encouraged people to convert to it, heaping power and wealth on (some of) them. And that's how Christianity became an imperial religion. Christianity changed rapidly in response to that. Major parts of the religion were changed or dropped entirely. For example, until Constantine, the vast majority of Christians were strict pacifists. In most communities, soldiers were required to leave the army and find a new trade before they could be baptized. Obviously, this was unacceptable if Christianity was going to become the religion of the Roman Empire. In a straight-up choice between pacifism and Imperial power, the Christian church as a whole dropped the pacifism like a hot potato. 100 years after Constantine you have St. Augustine laying out the "Just War" theory where war is fine as long as you have a good reason for it. That's a complete 180 from everything the early Christians believed. There are many other examples of things that got dropped or changed in Christianity to make it more palatable to Imperial might. There are a lot of toxic things in Christianity as we know it. But the thing is ... many of them come from this process of adapting their beliefs and practices to fit what Constantine (and later Emperors, and the entire power structure of the Empire) wanted Christianity to be. Namely, something tame that affirmed and enforced the existing Imperial power structure. And Christianity has been a partner and tool of the power structures of the dominant culture ever since. This is one of the reasons there's so much difference between Jesus' teachings and Christian teachings, in so many cases. In a straight-up choice between faithfulness and power ... a majority of Christians in the last two thousand years have most often chosen power. But here's the thing. If Christianity didn't exist, that doesn't mean none of this would have happened. It just means that Constantine would probably have chosen Mithraism instead. Do you think the Mithraists would have been any less willing to take the power and wealth on offer to them, in exchange for becoming a lackey of empire? Do you think Christianity was uniquely corruptible? I don't.

comments Comment? https://ift.tt/uspfvE9

#dreamwidth #original post #Christianity #history #ancient history #roman empire

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krummholz-go · 5 months

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Doubt is the Essence of Faith - Questions, Prayer, and Crowley’s Relationship to the Divine

In the novel A Prayer for Owen Meany we meet a flawed pastor named Lewis Merrill who is suffering a crisis of faith. He believes that God has turned away from him due to his sinful thoughts and actions and that he is not worthy of forgiveness. As he silently wrestles with his personal demons, he preaches the most optimistic version of his belief to his congregation: doubt is the essence of faith, and not faith’s opposite.

In Good Omens, we see a similar theme play out throughout the series. While many angels and demons blindly order others or follow orders on the perceived will of the Almighty, it is those who question and who are open to questions who are ultimately closest to God. Let’s delve into the relationship between doubt and the divine, and particularly how Crowley fits into it.

God’s Presence in Good Omens

What do our characters know about God in Good Omens? For a world replete with angels, demons, heaven, hell, Satan, miracles, and nuns, there is comparatively little representation of God as experienced by the characters. (I am not counting the 4th-wall breaking narration from God in Season 1 since that is an audience-only view.) The characters of Good Omens see and hear very little from God, and the status quo is that God is distant, unreachable, unknowable - ineffible. As Crowley says, “There is just God, moving in mysterious ways and not talking to any of us.”

We only know of two instances where the characters hear from God: God speaks to Aziraphale when he leaves the Garden of Eden, and God speaks to Job at the end of his trials. The Metatron claims to be a conduit to God and to speak with Their voice: “To speak to me is to speak to God. I am the voice of the Almighty.” But the Metatron is not necessarily a reliable narrator, and even Aziraphale questions his claim by categorizing him more as a spokesperson. From an audience perspective, the more we see of the Metatron and his manipulative ways, especially when he is underscored by sinister music, the more it seems like he really speaks for himself.

Are You There, God? It's Me, Crowley

If God isn’t generally speaking to our characters, the reverse is also true. Communication is a two-way street and the characters in Good Omens rarely reach out to God. Prayer is conspicuously absent. Angels do not pray, nor do humans who come face-to-face with immortal supernatural beings. The Them, Anathema, Newt, Shadwell, Madame Tracy, the shopkeepers, Maggie, and Nina - not one of them engages in prayer when confronted with a glimpse into a world beyond their mortal sphere or even when facing Armageddon. We do not even see the Satanic nuns, a full on religious order, engaging in prayer to their dark lord and master.

While Aziraphale does not precisely engage in prayer, he does at least try to talk to God in Season 1 when he takes his concerns about Armageddon “all the way to the top.” The whole thing feels rather technical, however - more like a celestial phone call than a cry from his soul to the Almighty. When Aziraphale connects to heaven the exchange feels bureaucratic, beginning with him lodging a complaint about the conduct of Michael and the other angels. He is unable to reach God directly and at the end of the conversation, the Metatron “leaves the line open,” again more like a phone call than a prayer.

There are, however, three characters we see who engage in more traditional prayer. Job is the first character (chronologically speaking) we see speaking to God. Job is “literally God’s favorite human,” so it is unsurprising that he would commune directly. In his case it is unclear if he is actively engaging in prayer or simply receiving messages from God, but given that God starts off by saying “Job, if you have questions for me, I have questions for you,” it seems likely that Job is actively praying.

Jesus is the second character who prays. We briefly see him praying as he is nailed to the cross, entreating the heavens, “Father, please, you have to forgive them.” Again, this is unsurprising - Jesus is the son of God, has a direct relationship with Them, and is traditionally depicted as praying for the forgiveness of humanity while on the cross.

The third character who engages in prayer is… Crowley. In Season 1, Crowley turns his eyes heavenward and directly implores God not to destroy humanity: “Great Plan? God, you listening? Show me a Great Plan. Okay, I know you’re testing them, you said you were going to be testing them. You shouldn’t test them to destruction. Not to the end of the world.”

Crowley’s prayer is noteworthy when compared to what we see from Job and Jesus. For starters, it is significantly more substantial. By Crowley’s generally reticent standards it’s almost a monologue. It is also significant because instead of simply beseeching God, Crowley first questions God, then makes a demand, then suggests an alternative to what he believes God’s plan to be. Out of everyone we see speaking to God, Crowley has the most interaction and is also the one who approaches Them most like an equal.

In a second small example of prayer, Crowley says a quick “oh, God” under his breath in the confession scene after Aziraphale makes his heartbreakingly naive statement: “If I’m in charge, I can make a difference.” Here Crowley is subconsciously reaching out to God in his deepest moment of need, readying himself to try to salvage the future he sees going off the rails. He is the only main character we ever see directly reach out to God in distress.

Dangerous Questions

The characters within Good Omens share a common conviction that God is not to be challenged or questioned. In Season 1, Aziraphale is repeatedly told not to challenge God’s will via the Great Plan - after all, the war is to be won, not to be avoided. In Season 2 at the creation of the universe we see Aziraphale cautioning Crowley not to ask questions or make suggestions because it could get him into trouble. The baseline assumption is that doubting or questioning God can remove you from Their grace. Even Crowley believes that he was cast away from God because he asked too many questions. “That’s just how it started for me,” he tells Aziraphale in Job’s cellar as Aziraphale begins to question his blind loyalty to a God that would kill children. “See you in hell!”

It is also made clear that the angels and demons in charge of heaven and hell are not personally a fan of questions. In Season 2 we see the Metatron brooking no challenges from the archangels and sneering at Crowley’s history of “always asking damn fool questions.” In hell, Shax’s response to Eric’s repeated challenges and questions at the kick-off before the bookshop attack is to destroy him. Both heaven and hell are in the business of control - they give orders and expect obedience. Asking or answering questions only undermines their position of authority and control. But fallen angels, angels, and even the Metatron are not God and do not necessarily share God’s perspective.

Divine Questions

All evidence we have indicates that God actually loves questions. They sound delighted that Job has questions for Them, and They are definitely in the business of asking questions of the mortals They speak to. In fact, almost every statement we hear God make is in the form of a question. When They speak to Aziraphale, They say:

“Where is the flaming sword I gave you, Aziraphale, to guard the gate of Eden?”

And Their conversation with Job is almost entirely made up of questions:

“Do you know how I created the Earth? Where were you when I laid the foundations of the Earth, Job? Were you there when all the morning stars sang together and all the Angels shouted for joy? Do you know the rules of the Heavens? Did you set the constellations in the sky? Can you send lightening bolts and get them to report back to you? Did you give wings to peacocks, Job, or teach the ostrich to run?”

And interestingly enough, God is not the only divine entity to communicate through questions. When Satan appears at the end of Season 1, his dialogue is also almost entirely made up of questions:

“Where is my son? You? You’re my rebellious son? Come here. What? What did you say?

(As a fascinating side note, when asked a question about God in Good Omens on Tumblr, Neil Gaiman responded entirely with questions: “Does God know everything in this universe? Does God act on what God sees? Does God tolerate the behavior of her creatures?”)

In each of these examples we see that far from God being averse to questions, the act of questioning is integral to the divine. It is part of the process that God engages in when trying to make a connection. Job, as God’s favorite, is tacitly given permission to ask questions. Blind obedience is apparently not what is demanded - some measure of doubt, of questioning, is required to arrive at a sincere faith and relationship with God.

Crowley’s Relationship to the Divine

So how does Crowley fit into this? Crowley is a questioner at heart. From the beginning we see him asking hard questions. Standing on the wall of the Garden of Eden he immediately doubts the foundational actions he and Aziraphale have taken: “It’d be funny if we both got it wrong, eh? If I did the good thing and you did the bad one?” At Noah’s ark he peppers Aziraphale with questions about God’s intent, at the crucifixion he wonders what Jesus did to get everyone so upset, in King Arthur’s time he questions the value of what he and Aziraphale are doing as they cancel each other out, and on and on. Throughout this questioning he has little patience with the idea that the answers are unknowable. “Are you going to say ‘ineffable?’” he asks Aziraphale, witheringly, as he watches the Ark be loaded.

When it comes to his relationship with God, it’s clear that Crowley has many unresolved issues, particularly around the trauma of his fall and his separation from God's love. As many other people smarter than me have pointed out, his entire approach to plant care is simply a replay of his own trauma: identifying a flaw in a plant, expressing his personal disappointment in his role as houseplant God, holding it up as an example to its friends, destroying it/casting it out of its home, and threatening the remaining plants with the same fate if they don’t grow better. The bookshop fire is also experienced by him as a replay of his fall - the loss of someone he loves deeply, the fire itself, and even a physical fall when he is shot by a jet of water - that leads him to immediately get drunk and remember what it felt like to do a “million light-year freestyle dive into a pool of burning sulfur.” Crowley relives his trauma over and over.

As a result of this unresolved trauma, Crowley can have difficulty acknowledging the reality of his fall and his status as a demon. Sometimes he downplays the fall itself (“I didn’t really fall, I just, you know, sauntered vaguely downwards”) as well as his responsibility for it (“I just hung around the wrong people;” “All I ever did was ask questions”). From our first introduction to him he does not behave as other demons do, responding to a ritualistic demonic greeting of “All hail Satan” with an unenthusiastic, “Uh, hi, guys.” He deliberately distances himself from hell by describing himself as “going along with hell as far as he can.” And perhaps most significantly he sets himself apart from other demons with his love for the earth, its creatures, its people, and all the lovely, clever things they invent.

Just as Crowley has never fully embraced and integrated his transformation into a demon, he has also never fully abandoned his subconscious associations as a former angel. When we first meet him as an angel in heaven at the start of Season 2, we learn that he is architecting the universe by creating nebulas, stars, and proto-planets and see the pride and love he holds for his creations. When things get tough on Earth and Armageddon approaches, his immediate thought is to return to the vast reaches of space to see Alpha Centauri or one of the nebulae he helped build, the last place where he felt a part of creation rather than of destruction. Similarly, when Aziraphale forces Crowley into action at the airbase in Season 1, Crowley’s primal instinct is to stop time and transport himself, Aziraphale, and Adam to a place that looks remarkably like the featureless white of heaven. In a callback to his previous life as an angel, he then uses the crank from the Bentley to restart time the same way he used a crank to start the engine of the star factory (perhaps even the same crank). He is even still sensitive to blasphemy, chiding Aziraphale for saying “oh my God!” and is clearly awed by and envious of the sight of Job speaking with God. “Just to be able to ask the question,” he says, wistfully.

All of these interactions indicate that Crowley is not at peace with his current station, continuing to straddle a space in between angel and demon while wrestling with his past trauma. While there are times that Crowley leans hard into being a demon, he has many unresolved issues and doubts regarding his past life as an angel, the reality and meaning of his fall, and exactly what kind of demon he is now.

The Divinity of Doubt

So where does all this lead us as we enter Season 3? Crowley’s willingness to engage in direct prayer shows he is still subconsciously close to God. More than that, his propensity to constantly ask questions mirrors God’s behavior even more than God’s special favorites, Job and Jesus. Rather than being distanced from God by a tendency to ask questions, the available evidence points to questioning as being integral to a divine connection.

If anyone is to make a direct connection with God in Season 3, I predict it will be Crowley. His doubting, questioning nature is likely to be critical to the healing of his past trauma and the completion of his character arc. I would not be surprised to see Crowley get the opportunity “just to be able to ask the question” of God even if no direct answers are forthcoming. If doubt is the essence of faith, Crowley is well situated to to recover his - whatever that looks like for him - through the course of the final season.

#good omens #crowley #good omens 2 #good omens meta #gomens #essay #long reads #good omens season 2 #good omens s2

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themultifandomgal · 6 months

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Isaiah Jesus- We’re Getting Married

When I told my brothers that Isaiah and I were getting married, they were not happy. I am the youngest Shelby, as Arthur puts it 'our baby sister'. Thankfully though my brothers came around and now here I stand smoothing down my dress as Esme places my vail in my hair

"You look beautiful YN" Lizzie gushes

"Thank you, but so do you both" I look at Esme and Lizzie through the mirror in front of me

"Ready?"

"Yeah" I smile turning around to Lizzie

"I'll go let Arthur know" she says leaving the room. A few minutes later Arthur knocks the door with his hand over his eyes

"We're all decent you can come in" I tell him. He takes his hand away and I can already see the tears in his eyes "don't cry because you'll make me cry"

"I'm sorry. It's just... my baby sister is getting married"

"Ok no smudging the makeup" Esme says stopping both me and Arthur from crying

"I think Isaiah is waiting" Lizzie places her hands on her hips

"Your right. Come on" Arthur holds his arm out for me to take.

As I wait for the doors to open to reveal Isaiah I start fidgeting

"Don't be nervous"

"I'm not. I'm excited. I love him Arthur"

"I know you do" finally the doors open and in walk Lizzie and Tom, then Esme and John. Then in walk my bridesmaids and finally Arthur walks me to Isaiah who's stood at the end of the aisle looks so freaking good. I notice he's got a tear running down his smiling face which cause me to cry a little. Arthur gives Isaiah my hand then kisses my cheek before taking his seat next to the rest of my family

"Welcome" the priest starts "today we are here to witness the marriage and bond between YN and Isaiah. Are you prepared, as you follow the path of marriage, to love and honor each other for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do"

"I do" we both respond

"Before we start. Is there anyone here who has reason that these two should not marry?" Thankfully neither Isaiah or I have to be nervous about anyone standing up "since it is your intention to enter the covenant of Holy Matrimony, join your right hands, and declare your consent before God and his Church" Isaiah and I hold hands

"I, take you , to be my wife. I promise to be faithful to you, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love you and to honor you all the days of my life" Isaiah says looking into my eyes. I repeat what he says

"May the Lord in his kindness strengthen the consent you have declared before the Church and graciously bring to fulfillment his blessings within you. What God has joined, let no one put asunder. May the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, the God of Jacob, the God who joined together our first parents in paradise, strength and bless in Christ the consent you have declared before the Church, so that what God joins together, no one may put asunder. receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the father, and the son, and the Holy Spirit. Who has the rings?" The priest asks. Charlie steps forward with both of our rings. Isaiah then takes my left hand

"Receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the father, and the son, and the Holy Spirit" he then places the ring on my finger. I repeat

"Now let us humbly invoke God's blessing upon this bride and groom, that in his kindness he may favor with his help those on whom he has bestowed the Sacrament of Matrimony. In the sight of God and these witnesses, I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may now kiss" the room is filled with applause while Isaiah and I share a kiss.

It's now the after party at the Garrison and I've changed into something a little more comfortable so I can dance in. Isaiah and I had our first dance then Arthur clears his throat

"Can I have everyone's attention" I take Isaias hand in mine "I'd like to raise a toast to my sister and now brother in-law. Now when you first starting courting I wasn't happy" this makes us all laugh "in all seriousness though, I saw the way YN looked at you and the way you looked at her. It's a love that can't be ignored. I can't wait to see where life takes you both, but no babies yet I'm still not recovered from this wedding" again this makes everyone laugh "to YN and Isaiah"

"To YN and Isaiah" everyone shouts before we all take a sip of the champagne. I turn to my now husband and look up at him

"I love you"

"I love you too" he leans down and kisses my lips.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders reader #tommy shelby #arthur shelby #john shelby #isaiah jesus x y/n #isaiah jesus x oc #isaiah jesus x reader #isiah jesus x reader #isaiah jesus imagine #isaiah jesus #sister shelby #shelby sister

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destinysbounty · 9 months

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Tonight on "Boring Worldbuilding Theories Only I Care About":

So characters are often seen saying things like "gee" and " jeez", which doesnt really make sense at a surface level bc both of those terms have Christian roots, being short for "jesus." Similarly, words like "gosh" and "golly" are a euphemism for "god", and exist as an alternative to "saying the lord's name in vain" - a concept that originated from the Bible and is to my knowledge exclusively Christian/Christian-adjacent.

The problem is, Christianity doesnt exist in Ninjago (outside of that one time Kai went on an acid trip and invented Christmas with the power of hallucination). So that means jeez/gee and gosh/golly had to have entered their lexicon in a different way.

"Gosh" is perhaps the easiest to explain. It probably has a similar linguistic function in Ninjago as it does in our world - after all, it doesnt seem too outlandish to conclude that there are religious rhetorics in-universe that discourage the speaking of godly names. Of course Ninjago does seem to be a predominantly secular society now - relying on religion for tradition and culture, but the actual observance of faith seems largely restricted to monks and select demographics - so it's likely that the practice of godly euphemisms may have over time disseminated from religious praxis into broader cultural colloquialism.

Although that does certainly raise the question about cultural variation in the characters who swear by the FSM's name like Wu and I think Pixal once, whereas characters like Ed and Jay use godly euphemisms - gosh, golly, etc. Were these religious sects more prominent in some regions than others? Ed and Jay, who use the euphemisms, both hail from the Sea of Sand - was this desert once within the territory of one of these euphemistic groups? And did these groups all follow the same faith but as part of different sects, or were they different religions altogether? Much to think about.

But as for gee and jeez...well, what if they're shortened versions of "wojira"? We know she was the prevailing deity back before the FSM showed up and defeated her, and is still worshipped in places like the Island of the Keepers. Perhaps, when her acknowledgement was more ubiquitous, her name was similarly used as a form of exclamation - but over time, due to cultural and linguistic evolution, the exclamation became shortened to things like "jeez" and "gee".

...yeah, i warned you this was gonna be boring. Dont come crying to me if you fell asleep halfway through.

#me: i should make a youtube channel discussing all my theories!#also me: comes up with the blandest headcanons known to man #ninjago #destiny post

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daisychainsandbowties · 9 months

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what is it about that season one shoulder pat you love so much??

i have a bit of a fascination with what i call character thesis moments. they’re… these sort of pivotal, revealing scenes or even just (as in this case) a gesture that makes me fall head-over-heels for a character. and also understand them.

with ava, it was the beach run scene. for lilith, the grey hoodie scene where she asks ava “can you forgive me?” for mary it was the first scene, cradling shannon’s head and shutting her eyes and the love in every inch of every gesture. (that’s the first sign i think that warrior nun is a story about love, and survival, and in not surviving but loving anyway).

now, i’ll admit that i adored beatrice from “i thought she’d be a handful” and “faith is my business” but frankly… neither of those scenes show us who she is. i think the closest we get to HER is at the bus stop, where you watch her choose her friends over her duty, choose love over sacrifice (for the first, but not the last time).

and then… god, that shoulder slap. i can’t explain how it made me feel.

up until that point, beatrice is such a whirlwind of a character. she’s lethal, she faces down a gun with frightening disregard for her own life. she drops a tear onto shannon’s cheek as she gasps out a very rehearsed goodbye. she catches ava when she slips out of that wall, she cries over an old journal and in all that time she’s fighting so hard to remain unseen.

and then, in one gesture, she reveals who she is. if you look closely, you see how fiercely beatrice fights to hold herself, but especially her hands, in check. they are either weapons or they’re things she lets out with the greatest care. they are caring but also tentative, like moths desperately trying not to touch the flame.

if you look carefully you also see that beatrice can’t help but touch ava. she tries and tries, but then they’re in the vatican and she’s suddenly this young, smiling creature trading puns, rushing through a cloud of dust to pry ava from the wreckage of her faith, from the arms of an angel. i just think, when i saw that shoulder slap i realised how much there was to beatrice.

she’s this… ball of contradictions. she’s a nun, she came up with Cruella de Jesus. she’s faithful, she’s queer, she’s resigned to the death of everyone she loves. she’s a weapon, and yet… you look at her doing that slightly goofy shoulder slap and it betrays a sense of ‘i want to touch you and i don’t know what to do about it.’ and in that you realise that she’s everything you thought and she’s also… mischievous? slightly boyish? a fool who is already more than half in love.

i remember feeling so fond of her, so suddenly, because out of the clear blue you realise that she’s drawn to this, to this girl who told her not to hate what she is, not to hate what she craves which is touch… a certain something she doesn’t dare to name, but still she reaches out and THAT is beatrice to me.

she’s a pair of empty hands, a bottle of lightning, and for all her confidence, for all that she is undeniably so cool and calm under pressure, so absolutely lethal; she’s also young, and she doesn’t know what to do about what she feels. it terrifies her, fascinates her, makes her hands move almost of their own accord.

there is ava, who is the point around which she is supposed to rally. halobearer, holy, doomed. that little pat in the shoulder… when i take it from ava’s perspective i’m in awe, because they don’t quite understand each other yet. it’s a candleflame to the incandescence of their kiss but it’s the first time bea reaches out not to catch her, or capture her, or carry her, but simply to touch.

it’s a very blunt and beautiful reassurance and that’s what they are to each other; they’re comfort, safety, acceptance. and that throwaway moment to me is the thesis of bea’s character arc. it’s the choosing to touch, to reach out, to hold onto what she loves.

and for ava it’s sacred too. how many times in her life do you imagine she’s been touched the way beatrice touches her? the way she balances ava’s jaw in her hands when she falls from the wall, smiling at her like she’s a miracle. beatrice who is the voice in the dark and the cold, who tears down a wall to reach her because she promised and she kept it. touch is everything to ava, and i think there’s just something so special about that moment; beatrice just saying, wordlessly, ‘you’re good, you’re here, i’ve got your back.’ it’s not condescending it’s a gesture that i think demonstrates to ava that she’s not alone anymore, and it kindles the hope that she never will be again.

#warrior nun #avatrice #sister beatrice #ava silva #it’s just! special and silly and important to me i’m sorry i know this is mostly incoherent #anon

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madneedshelp · 1 year

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Always Choose You - Eddie Roundtree x Female Reader

Summary: You and Eddie were never meant to be more than a fling. So, why did you both keep coming back?

Includes: implied sex, alcohol and drug use, adult language

Note: The bolded names followed by a colon represent interview dialogue like from in the book.

The first time you met Eddie was at some gig he played with The Six. It was before Look At Us Now had blown up and they’d flown to stardom. No, you met him back in the days of small clubs on the Strip.

The band had just finished playing, you’d had a few drinks (and therefore some liquid courage in your blood), and you went for it. As soon as the cute bassist headed to the bar himself, you sauntered over.

“You were great up there. I’ve always wanted to play music like that.” You smiled and slid into the seat next to him.

He returned your grin and took a sip of his drink. “Ah thanks, we’ve been at it for a while now. I’m Eddie, by the way.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Eddie. I’m Y/N. Have you all been in town long, I can’t say I’ve seen you play before.”

He shook his head. “We’re from Pittsburgh. Kind of took a leap of faith coming down here, but I think we’re all happy we did it.”

You noticed as he glanced quickly over at the side of the bar. The singer of his band was talking with a beautiful brunette, but you could tell he was more focused on the girl than his friend. He looked back to you after almost a split second though, and you were almost convinced you made it up.

“Well, cheers to your success, I’m glad it’s working out for you guys.” You chuckled and clinked your glass with his.

You and Eddie flirted a bit more, drank a bit more, and at the end of the night he climbed into a taxi with you. Your roommate was out for the weekend, so you had an empty apartment and a hot guy at the ready. A nice one night stand could be just what you needed.

————————

It never occurred to you that you’d see him again. Hell, you’d practically forgotten him after all that time had passed. Not that the two of you didn’t have a great night together, you were just both a little drunk and it was just once, so it never really crossed your mind.

But then here you were, at a party for your roommate’s friend. She hadn’t told you much detail about the party, just that her friend Camila was hosting a housewarming party of sorts and she wanted you to come along as her guest. It gave you an excuse to get dressed up and it sounded fun, so you agreed without much thought.

Your roommate, Sarah, introduced you to Camila and her husband Billy when you first arrived. Something seemed vaguely familiar about them, but you figured it was just because Billy’s band was famous and there was buzz about them everywhere. Still, you felt like maybe there was something else about them. As Camila and Sarah got caught up in conversation, you politely excused yourself to go grab a drink.

The house was full of people and you felt slightly like you were in a maze. Luckily, you wove your way to the bar area and were able to acquire a beer.

You decided the next stop should be the patio out back. It was getting a little stuffy and some fresh air sounded perfect. You were on your way to the back door when someone stumbled into you from behind.

“Oh shit, my bad.” The man said immediately.

You turned and gave him a small smile. “It’s all good, no worries.”

“Jesus Warren, I leave you alone for like five minutes and you’re already stumbling around aimlessly,” a familiar voice chuckled as another man strolled up beside him.

Holy fuck. As you glanced over at his friend, you realized you knew this guy. This was that bar guy from God knows how long ago.

It looked like said guy was having the same realization, or at least some kind of epiphany. His eyes narrowed slightly as he turned to really look at you.

“I think I know you from somewhere.” He muttered.

Eddie: Okay, I know it sounds bad, but I promise I didn’t forget about her. It had been a long time. Besides, apparently she couldn’t even remember my name, so we were both a little drunk that night.

Warren: I was high as shit, and I could definitely tell he didn’t recognize her. It’s funny to think about that now, God I can’t even imagine.

His friend-Warren- elbowed him with a laugh. “You can’t pick up chicks with that cheesy ass line, brother. No one is gonna fall for that shit.”

You kind of wished you had some of whatever this guy was on because he was clearly high as a kite and having a grand old time.

“Oh, I don’t know.” You let out a quiet, nervous laugh. You weren’t about to explain that you two had fucked and never spoken again once like a year or so ago.

“No, we have met before…” He trailed off in thought, but then his eyebrows shot up as it clicked. “Did you hang around the Sunset Strip by any chance?”

You downed what was left of your drink and nodded. “Yeah, I used to. I think you’ve put that together, though. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to grab another of these.” You held up the empty bottle and spun on your heel.

Thankfully, the house had several exits, so you were able to grab your beer and slip out back unnoticed. Well, at least you thought you were.

“Hey, can I talk to you?”

Bar guy came up beside you and gestured to the empty seat beside you. You felt like shit for this, but you couldn’t remember his name. Fred, maybe? God, you didn’t sleep around that much, you should be able to keep track of this.

“Sure,” You shrugged. You do remember him being a nice guy, so you weren’t opposed to hearing him out.

He hesitantly sat down. “Listen, I feel like I should apologize. I’m sorry it took me a minute to recognize you, and…well, I’m sorry I kind of disappeared from your place right after we…” His voice started trailing off when you started chuckling. “What’s funny?”

You felt your face flush and you waved a hand. “No, no, it’s not you, I promise. You really don’t have to apologize for anything, that’s why I was laughing. We slept together after I met you at a bar, I didn’t exactly expect us to grow old together.”

He was chuckling now too. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I just didn’t want you to think I was an ass or something. Can we start over?”

“Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.” You smiled and held out your hand for him to shake.

“Eddie, and likewise.”

Eddie! So you were kind of close earlier. Truth be told though, this was one of the weirdest encounters with a hookup that you’d ever had. Normally, you wouldn’t dream of interacting with someone afterwards, but something about this guy was different. You kind of liked talking to him, and you remember feeling like that the first time you met him too.

————————

You woke up in a room that was definitely not yours, which caused a little bolt of panic to shoot through you. It only took a second for it to all come flooding, thankfully.

Somehow, you had decided it was a good idea to go home with Eddie last night. Again. That definitely was not in your plan. You weren’t in the habit of dragging out one night stands, but it looks like you had a repeat. You two wound up hanging out for most of the party last night, and you were talking, then you were kissing, and now you were here. But God, was he a good repeat. To be honest, when you snuck a glance down at his sleeping face beside you, all you could think about was that he was kind of beautiful.

A knocking came from the door and it nearly startled you out of bed.

“Eddie! We gotta leave for the studio, man! Billy wants us there in an hour!”

You looked down and realized you were bare ass naked, and immediately lunged for your clothes. You weren’t sure if Eddie’s roommate would just barge in, but you were not about to be caught naked if he did. Immediate relief flooded through you as you pulled on your dress and heard footsteps as the guy walked away from the door, but you were mostly amazed by the fact that none of this had actually woken Eddie.

This was actually kind of worse. Now you had to make a choice. Did you leave unnoticed or did you wake him up and face the morning after conversation. You really didn’t want to talk. You hooked up once and then again, it was a weird string of events that you couldn’t hash out right now. Unfortunately, he showed no signs of waking up and you’d feel really bad if he was late to his band thing.

With a sigh you stepped over to the bed and shook his shoulder gently. Then you shook it a little less gently. This man could sleep through a fucking tornado.

Finally, he sat up and rubbed his face. “Hmm? Oh, mornin’...”

You quickly wiped off the tiny smile that threatened to overtake your face. Thinking he looked cute, all sleepy in the morning, was not a road you needed to go down. “Hey, your friend just knocked and said Billy wants you at the studio in an hour. You seemed pretty out of it, so I just wanted to let you know before I left.”

He muttered something about “he’s such an asshole” under his breath before looking back up at you. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, no problem,” You nodded as nonchalantly as possible. “Well, I’m going to head out now. Um, thanks…for last night.”

The second the words left your mouth, you knew how stupid it all sounded. You used to be pretty smooth, but apparently that was temporary. You had to get out of there before you made it worse. You grabbed your purse and strode hurriedly for the door, but before you were outside, Eddie shouted.

“Hey, wait!”

You looked back over your shoulder at him as he pulled on a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and started over to you. “Yeah?”

“Listen, um, I had fun last night. And I like you.” He combed a hand through his wild hair.

He looked like he wanted to keep going, but you cut him off first. “I’m not really looking for a relationship.” You blurted the words before you could think, and they left a curiously bitter taste in your mouth.

He looked mildly surprised at the outburst, but then shook his head. “I’m not either, actually. Honestly, I’m kind of getting over someone else right now. Stop me if I’m out of line here, but I was wondering if you might want to do this again sometime. All I’m saying is I had fun, and if you had fun too, then could I get your number? I promise I’m not proposing we grow old together here.”

You chuckled at his reference to your conversation last night. You had to agree with him. Last night was good, and the thought of seeing him again was something you didn’t hate.

Y/N: I can’t believe I’m actually admitting to this, but yes he became my, oh what is it people say now? My sneaky link? Friends with benefits? Whatever, the point is we kept seeing each other. Just having fun. We were in our 20s and carefree, you know?

————————

You and Eddie kept things casual for a long time. He grew to be one of your closest friends during that time. Yes, it was mainly about the sex for the two of you, but you actually got to know each other well.

Eddie knew things about you that not even your roommate Sarah did. One night he opened up to you about Camila, about how he’d been in love with her for years and that was why he wasn’t looking for something serious. He seemed really vulnerable about it, and you decided to tell him about your cheating ex and why you didn’t want to date either. The two of you formed an odd sort of bond over that, over loving people that had chosen someone else.

Eddie: If I’m being honest, I was lying when I told her about Camila. I told her I was still in love with her, but I hadn’t been for a while. I was just too afraid to admit that maybe I moved on.

Y/N: I was done with it just being a fling at that point. Sure, I was still hurt by what happened, but I think Eddie helped heal that untrusting part of me. I felt ready for a relationship, but I didn’t know where he stood on the matter. I didn’t fess up because it almost felt better to have him in that way, than to not have him in my life anymore.

Karen: They were so obviously in love with each other, I’ll never know how they couldn’t see it in each other. The rest of us definitely could.

Graham: Y/N and Eddie? Yeah, I think the rest of us knew about them before they knew themselves. It was annoying as hell to live with them, I mean especially sharing a wall with Eddie. Warren and I took bets on how long it would take them to actually figure out their shit, and that son of a bitch beat me.

You and Eddie were lovers for almost a year.

Everything changed on a night that seemed so typical. Eddie had showed up at your place, absolutely livid.

“He cut my fucking part from the song! He’s such a fucking asshole!” Eddie slammed the door behind him and flung his coat over the back of the kitchen chair.

You put your book down and hopped up from the couch. “Again? Shit, Eddie, I hate that he keeps doing that to you.” The moment you placed a calming hand to his chest and leaned against his shoulder, you felt him relax beneath your touch.

He sighed and wrapped his arms around you. “I’m sorry I keep showing up here like this. I just get so pissed at him, and it’s like the only place I can think of to go is here.”

“Yeah?” You laughed softly.

He was quiet for a moment. “Yeah,” he said with such finality that you could feel a shift in the room.

The way he was looking at you…like you were something special. Like you were something valuable.

“And why is that, Ed? Why here?” You whispered.

In answer, he leaned down and kissed you. You too had kissed obviously, but this one felt like it meant something different. “Y/N, I’m so fucking in love with you that it’s all I can think about. Even when I’m not thinking about you, I still am. I was so mad at Billy and had to get out of there, and somehow I drove here without even thinking about it. So, yeah, I’m in love with you. I know that wasn’t in the agreement, but I can’t keep going and not tell you this once.”

You could tell he was going to keep rambling, so you decided to muster up the courage and do what you were dying to do. “Eddie!” He stopped and looked at you, visibly anxious. “Eddie, I love you too. I have for so long, and screw the agreement. I want to be with you.”

Eddie’s face lit up and he kissed you again. And again. And then he stopped to why the tears off your cheeks, which you assured him were happy tears.

“God, I should’ve told you sooner.” You chuckled and leaned your head against his chest.

He wrapped his arms around you and kissed the top of your head. “Warren would definitely call you a chicken right now, but I wouldn’t stoop that low.”

Even though he couldn’t see it, you rolled your eyes. “You know, I feel like you kind of did by mentioning it, but I’ll let it slide. Besides, I still thought you had feelings for Camila. I didn’t really think it would ever be me.”

Eddie pulled away slightly so he could look you in the eye. “You know I would always choose you, right? You’re it for me, baby. If you’ll have me, anyways.”

“Always, Eddie, always.”

Y/N Roundtree: We got married like six months after that.

Eddie: I would’ve married her that night, to be honest.

#eddie roundtree #eddie roundtree x reader #djats #daisy jones fanfic #daisy jones and the six #eddie roundtree fanfiction #daisy jones fanfiction #warren rojas #graham dunne #camila dunne #billy dunne #daisy jones #taylor jenkins reid

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bumblesimagines · 18 days

Note

i made breakfast.

let me just grab my things and i'll get out of here.

Love Quinn

i made breakfast.

let me just grab my things and i'll get out of here.

Pronouns: They/Them/Theirs, GN!Reader

The scent of pancakes drifting through the air filled your nose and reminded your stomach that you'd skipped dinner the night before, a gnawing feeling immediately blossoming in your stomach as your hazy, sleep-riddled mind began envisioning breakfast. Your mouth watered and you sighed, forcing your heavy eyes to open. You must've left a window open-

You blinked and blinked again and blinked one last time for good measure. You stared at the large, wall-length windows that gave a view of a neighborhood straight out of a magazine, a view you certainly never got when you looked out your shabby bedroom window and out onto the bustling, noisy streets of LA. You scrambled up, feeling the soft velvety sheets press against your palms as you took in the bedroom bigger than your apartment.

"Jesus..." You whispered, running your hand over the covers that definitely were worth more than your rent. Everything about the bed felt cozy. The size of it, the soft mattress your body sunk into, the cool pillows that kept coaxing you into slumber, the warm covers. You'd be half tempted to go back to sleep if it weren't for the worry that replaced the hunger in your stomach. Who owned the bed to begin with? Certainly not any of your friends or exes, unless one of them secretly had a fuckton of money they kept hidden away for unknown reasons.

The sleepy fog lifted from your brain, clearing away sluggish thoughts and any remaining exhaustion lingering in your body.

With a groan, you lowered the phone from your ear and pressed the bright red button, shaking your head as you made your way back to your friends. "No luck," You sighed, shoving the phone in your back pocket and picking up the dripping beer bottle. A chorus of sighs and quiet mutters followed, your friends exchanging looks and eye rolls. "Delilah's probably standing in front of a board full of pictures and little notes right now with her phone on Do Not Disturb."

"Or," Tessa began with a giggle, half her body leaning into her girlfriend's side. "She's totally getting railed by that cop. What was his name? Devin?"

"David." George corrected her with a snicker, earning a glare from you. He raised his hands in mock surrender, more snickers escaping him. "What? We all know he's been trying to get with her since you two broke up. At least he had the decency to wait, (Y/N)."

Swallowing down the beer, you shook your head. "I don't want to hear about Delilah or David or her ditching us for whatever reason. She always does this." You sighed, pressing your lips against the rim of the bottle and dropping your eyes onto the bar. A shimmer of disappointment swam with the bitterness, almost morphing into regret before Tessa leaned over, her vanilla-scented perfume invading your nostrils.

"Well," She purred. "There's a pretty brunette at the end of the bar whose been eyeing you since you walked in here. She's real pretty. I bet a little chat, some drinks here and there, and you'll forget all about Delilah by the end of the night, hm? Why don't you give it a shot?" You turned your head and sure enough, right at the end of the bar sat a vaguely familiar brunette with her eyes locked on you.

Oh, God, the pretty brunette. You squeezed your eyes shut and wracked your name for a name. Hope? Faith? Verity? Something along those lines, one of those names hippies or real rich people gave their nightmare children. You remembered her eyes, vibrant and an almost grayish blue that sparkled brightly with pure glee under the dim bar lighting. Her hair was brown, dark at the roots but lightened toward the end, her let-down strands framing her face just right. She'd been so eager to talk to you, to even listen. The second you sat beside her on that barstool, her attention never left you for more than a second. Damn. A pretty good score, if you had to be honest.

"Hey, you're awake! Good morning." A sweet voice greeted you, and there she was, standing in the doorway. She smiled widely, the bracelet wrapped around her wrist jingling with each step she took into the room. Even it looked expensive.

"Morning," You cleared your throat and eyed your neatly folded clothes on the chair by the vanity mirror. Better save your ego then take a sugar-coated blow. "Let me just grab my things and I'll get out of here." You told her, getting up from the far too comfortable bed and making a beeline for your clothes. You grabbed your shirt, and then a hand enveloped yours.

"It's alright, (Y/N). No worries, I promise." She smiled, her fingers curling around yours. "Please, use the bathroom if you need to. I put a spare toothbrush in there for you. You could take one of the robes and shower if you feel like it. I made breakfast for us. I wasn't sure what you'd like so I made pancakes with scrambled eggs and bacon."

"Oh, uhm..." You could certainly get used to her lifestyle. "That's... kind of you."

"Of course." She placed her other hand on your shoulder and leaned in, pressing her lips against your cheek. "I don't know if you remember but I'm Love. Love Quinn."

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