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joannasteez · 2 months

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crying, laughing, loving, lying - australian merlot

pairing: roman reigns x angel (black oc) warning: no warnings. first date fluff. this is an alternate universe work of fiction, so no wrestling will be mentioned. authors note: this will hopefully, be followed by other pieces that show the progression of angel and romans relationship. get ready for hallmark movie realness. music inspo: crying, laughing, loving, lying by labi siffre word count: 3100

some restaurants are made for first dates. for habitual blind daters too skittish to reach beyond that hectic first circle of hell limbo called first base. the 'will it now? won't it finally?', of it all. this ceaseless punishment of lovelessness. and angel thinks that it's all more shitty than bullshit anyways. love is simply an accompaniment and not the whole damn tune. a cappella's are more fascinating anyways. love is more of an accessory. something like bracelets or anklets. a thing to put on that dresses up life a little more prettily. but there is a trouble to it. the labor of coordination far less rewarding than it's worth. and what of the fruitlessness? the defilement and scarcity that rottens the garden. a few ruined by many and now she's at her tenth blind date since the new year, already familiar with the taste of fucking bile.

"you need someone".

but she doesn't. because need implies the failure of survival without it and if after every date her stomach churns—with a fear that she refuses to acknowledge—then that wasn't something she wanted anyways. definitely not something she needed.

but here, amongst white table cloth, she waits. 7:39 pm. slightly too early to be upset because he, whoever he is, isn't late yet. but she wishes very openly that he will be. it'd just be a strike against him. something that eases the guilt of ghosting him when he inevitably asks for another date. and please don't mistake the self assuredness for a too big ego, she just knows these things. it's based all on common occurrence. they bring roses because "all women love roses", dragging their feet in eased and so damn smiley despite being five, ten or even fifteen minutes late and it absolutely grinds her fucking gears. cleanliness is next to godliness but fuck it punctuality is too. he will come with a rose and he will be late and he will ramble about himself and he will stare at her cleavage and then imply that him paying the bill grants access to spreading her open and then the inevitable lump of bile.

it was a song she'd heard and a dance done a thousand times and her head hurt from the thundering bass and her feet from trying to keep pace with such terrible rhythm.

angel wants to leave. wants to finally grant herself the relief of no guilt by stepping away before the burden of ridding her tongue of the bile.

but she can't, because he's here now. sitting down with no rose.

what the hell?

and he is beautiful. a huge mountain of a man. herculean with a directness to his eyes that makes it appear as though he is staring through her skin and into deeper, more vulnerable parts. heat scorching fast over nerves and bones till she grows warm and its concerning. because angel has gone on first dates with beautiful men before. sat with them, spoken to and at them, laughed with and at them, dined with them, but for some gut churning reason, this, feels different. the temperature of the atmosphere is warm. the life in his eyes, inviting.

and for the love of God he doesn't have a rose and it makes angel laugh. small and to herself.

he sits. confused and amused in that awkward way. where the idea of a joke itself makes you laugh, not privy to hooks, punchlines, sinkers and the like.

and for the first time in a myriad of failed dates, angel is taken by his voice. a dark symphony. pitch low and smooth. strong and double bass like.

"can i get in on the joke?"

she wants to shrivel into and like a ball. because it wasn't necessarily funny. it was more so the absurdity of the situation. of course after much complaining and internal deliberation she would be sent someone that would stick her foot in her mouth. at least in regards to the romantic gesture of giving roses.

her throat clears. "sorry, it's just...it's kinda weird. it's nothing".

he squints and it feels like a hole is tearing through her skin. peeling away till its settling warm into veins.

"if you leave me in suspense i'm gonna make you feel like shit about it".

"is that a threat?"

"more like a spoiler".

and now the laugh is bright and clear. nothing hidden and inward about it. and he loves the sound. wouldn't mind if he could hear it a few more times tonight. her sarcasm more laden in her words than the surprise of them.

"because you've never practiced that before".

"in a mirror once or twice, but i got you all giggly so tell me whats funny".

angel sighs. "you didn't bring a rose and for whatever reason, men show up to first dates with roses", waving her fingers away to express the un-seriousness of her amusement. "it's just a thing".

"like... the bachelor".

"yeah", snorting. "sure, like the bachelor".

his fingers, long and thick and just downright massive, rub into his beard. mulling over her words with a bout of sincerity that she doesn't think she's seen in a while. like some actual consideration, and not a half-assed pulling together of thoughts into words to make conversation for the sake of filling in the silence.

"never really approached it like that. it seems more like a burden than anything y'know?", his eyes slipping over the bottle of wine you ordered before he showed, before its doing the same to your face. "flowers do the dying thing and then what? just something else to throw away. feels odd".

"i mean, theres ways to preserve them". because of fucking course she would say this, after making a fuss about always getting flowers. but it was just that weird thing, trying to see the upside in a situation. to heal the downtrodden idealism of it all. "but i agree with you".

"sounds like you want a rose".

"i don't. i just-...". she sighs. flustered. "can we start over".

and he smiles. at her awkwardness and her eyes and the crinkle in her brows as she gathers herself.

"of course".

eyeing the bottle of wine again, his hand reaches out to you.

"roman".

and it fits. encapsulates his everything. name and the air of him reminiscent of old statues built with marble and brow sweating patience. an easy demeanor inherited from stoic warriors of old. fine silk looking hair and a jaw she's sure she can cut against if not for the thickness of his beard.

she takes his hand and shakes. thumb over his veins and wrapped up in the strength of his palm.

"angel".

"are you?"

they both smile. teasing eyes and a playful air.

"sometimes".

he hums short. the song of it uprooted from his chest. hand slipping away from hers but the impression of it leaves a stain on her skin. where his fingers squeezed in the midst of a mere cordial shaking. and his eyes are not shy. taking hers to hold steady and uncompromising. and never has a man held her gaze so well, not since-

"you been here before?"

and it is only the shame of so many dates in such a short amount of time that leaves her tongue dry and her thoughts partial to lying. "uhh", her eyes sweeping over the menu. "no. i haven't".

"any allergies?"

"used to be pescatarian a while back but i stopped. why?"

"i don't want you to surprise me with a closed airways cause i recced you something with peanut oil".

"you've been here before?"

"a few times".

"on dates". more like a statement than a question.

he's busy looking over the menu, like he's seeing it for the first time. "dates, work stuff, a night out. it's a cool spot. convenient". he takes the wine bottle, opening it to pour. humming in delight as he nose takes to smell. "you've been here before though".

"what?"

angels heart sinking way down till it's falling steady out of her chest cavity and into her stomach. taking something similar to a rolling tumble as it goes and it feels devastatingly awful. being caught in a lie has never been a smooth easy ordeal and the urge to get up and leave runs rife under her skin. prickling in a manner that taunts her till her cheeks grow hot white. she wants to hide and suffer in the silence of her own shame. and he's a complete asshole about it, because he lets her simmer into a scorched heat, struck and wordless as a grin plays through his lips. picking up the wine bottle once more. his fingers wrapping about it easy and familiar.

"when i said your last name for the reservation, the waiter called you by your first. which means she knows you, because you've been here a few times". his lips smiling. much more amused than worked up by your little white lie. sipping the wine to taste again. "that and the wine. first-timers spend too much on wine. the merlot here is decent enough".

a forced chuckle toughens up. angel sooting the bridge of her nose with a thumb. un-fucking-believable. "this is fucking embarrassing".

"it's good wine though. cheap as shit but it's pretty good".

"look", she starts. a deep sigh before she makes the effort to meet him. his brown eyes soft still. void of scrutiny. amusement waning but still nothing of judgement. and the niceties unnerved angel. most men didn't take too kind to lies in such a formally romantic setting. it made for awfully fierce energy that led to a frigidness she hated to maneuver. not that she was a habitual liar, but still, it worried her. "i didn't mean to lie... well... i did but-"

"it's alright. i get it. i used to be the same way".

"a liar?"

"embarrassed".

and she knew exactly what he meant without him having to say it. because this probably wasn't his first date of the new year either. the wait staff were probably familiar with him too. his familiarity with the taste of the restaurants stock of merlot making perfect sense. he'd probably, once upon a time, given his fair share of roses. the what do you do for work spiel and the sometimes awkward dance of wanting more after the first date and wrongly reading what he thought were obvious suggestions that a woman wanted him physically. and sometimes thats all they wanted, or at least that's what angel thinks, because some of her dates just wanted sex. no strings or some strings and then it got tangled and messy. always too damn messy. but he was over the shame of cycling through to find "the one". angel had yet to get there.

she clears her throat. thumbs twiddling together. apologetic as she looks to him. "i'm sorry anyways".

roman's silence is heavy. his eyes slipping over her face. noting the details that exist in their guilt. but still even in this, angel is a beautiful woman. thick lashes and slightly hooded eyes. cheeks high and plump. her lips full and surely kissable. especially when she takes them between her teeth in what he's sure to be her nerves overworking themselves with all his staring and his wordlessness. his smile warm and easy again, turning back to the menu. he's had enough of making her feel like shit anyways, for it dampened the mood far too much and he rather you smile again and for as long as they date lasts.

"forgiven and forgotten. the real litmus test is how you take your steak".

"who said i wanted steak".

"one, you owe me for lying".

she gasps. lips pulling up and her knee knocking softly into his. "you said forgiven and forgotten".

"and two", he continues, chuckling. "you said you were pescatarian, meaning you gave it up cause you realized that grass ain't green".

"why are you reading me so well right now, this is crazy".

"wouldn't be good at what i do if i couldn't".

her mouth purses over the wine glass to sip at the sweetness of the merlot, waiting for him to continue. and when he doesn't she finds herself more interested in hearing a man talk than she ever has in all her time of dating.

"which is?"

"i teach and coach".

"okay", her eyes play and rolling. "don't leave me in suspense. be more specific".

and here the fierceness of his features round out to a softness. but surely it cant be those few sips of wine, suddenly freeing up the tight collection of his resolve. the slightest dusting of pink at his cheeks and his mouth smiling smaller. humility bracing him harshly just before her. it was more obvious to her now, he hates talking about himself.

"sports history and college football", barely meeting her eyes. the menu suddenly becoming so very important to him. his throat clearing as his palm reaches to rub up against the thick hair of his beard. " 'm not a head coach or anything, just for the defensive line but its...", and finally he looks to her again. "it's cool".

"don't say just like that. it down plays your passion. i like passion".

the sincerity melting a warmth into him. the air feeling less suffocating for the both of them now as they share a smile.

and the dinner goes smoother than angel had expected. the food cooked immaculately and the wine warming her belly. his passionate talks soothing to her ears and his jokes funnier. the knock of his long legs turning into less of an accident and more of a playful teasing. and by the end of their steaks they're both closer than they started, leaning in to hear more of each others voices. his freckles an endearing scatter against his cheeks. the slick lick of his lips as he talks catching her eyes and by the end of her wine glass she comes to the arresting realization that he's doing it on purpose. slowly but surely ingratiating himself through small touches and that hostage holding stare.

angel, afraid now, feels a disappointment weighing in her. the ending of it all , this little world of quickly built intimacy, nearing quicker than she realized. both of them perusing through the dessert menu. more than slowly to stretch the time.

"you a dessert guy?"

he sets down the menu. her voice bringing him in again. "fuck yeah i'm a dessert guy. they make a bomb ass bread pudding here. best i've had".

and maybe her eyes are suggestive. and maybe they sharpen to pierce through him a little more fiercely and maybe her knee knocks into his when her lips part to speak. but angel does well about pleading the fifth, even with herself.

her eyes looking up through her lashes as she flits them from the menu to him. and she can track the trailing of his gaze straight to her plump lips. "you've never had mine".

"is that an invitation to taste test?"

a shiver breaks over her skin. an undulating warmth at her cheeks. she pushes her menu to the side.

"y'know pastry emporium? the shop on 4th and everling?"

roman's brows jump in an instant, before they pull together. the sudden realization exciting his nerves.

"thats yours?"

"half of it. i co-own".

"i'm stoppin' by there all the time and i've never seen you".

and the tiny world they live in has just become slightly smaller. their existences dancing on the edges of one another for who knows how long before this faithful night of teasing smiles and blood sweetening sips of australian wine.

"i don't mesh too well with the front of house stuff". her knee taking a soft slow lean into his. and maybe the styling and placement of the tables and chairs are purposeful. for moments like these. "but i can make an exception".

"you better". his lips spreading wide and his smile bright. nothing bashful left in his expression as its overtaken by the prospect of seeing you again. "cause you owe me a taste test".

and for once there is no threat of bile to stain her throat, or even the cringing anticipation thereof. and when they're both finally, hesitantly ready for the bill, he takes the responsibility without words. fitting his card into the leather book. appreciation swimming to settle gently in her belly along with the sweet merlot. he tips well too, and his fingers catch soft against her palm, leading her out of the restaurant and into the balmy night spring air. the urge to stick to him creeping in her skin. but the same seems to exist for him because he stands just before her, eyes circling the city, searching and thinking, before they find her face. a small smile on her lips as she looks to him expectantly. his touch grows firmer, as if he's just come to the end of a pending decision. fully taking her hand as he begins to step.

"walk with me". but theres no inflection that implies a question. more of a statement that softly wills her into following.

his hand as warm as his smile and gentle even in its size. he strolls easy too, to help her keep up with the wide steps he takes.

but even beyond the easy going tenderness of him, angel has never felt such a stillness in her nerves before. the city she's seen a thousand times suddenly appearing brighter and less overwhelming. the usual droning no longer a harsh symphony. the pitch and pace less grating. and maybe it's silly, because he's, despite his teasings and his suggestive eyes and interesting conversation, still a stranger. still a man with a world of a life she knows so little about. filled with hopes and dreams and secrets. but that feeling nags still. nestles deep under her skin as it attempts to force out the hesitancies.

roman leads her to the front of a flower shop and her eyes play at rolling.

she tries to pull him away from the entrance. "we spoke about this".

"we did".

his smiling melting her resolve to mush. so bright and unapologetic in how it spreads. he takes her hand tightly, pulling her into the shop.

he orders one rose exactly. giving it to her after he's paid for it.

"why?", she asks. trying to fight the rising heat in her cheeks.

"because i think deep down, you want it. you just don't want it to feel like an obligation. and this right here is all off the cuff. im sure of that”.

and angel's belly flutters. that cliche appearance of butterfly's.

tagging: @333creolelady @harmshake @theninthwonder @gomussy @spritelucozade @venusesworld @thesamoanqueen @empressdede (if i forgot anyone who wants a tag for roman centered fics, my apologies! just remind me for next time)

#roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fic #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns x black oc #fluff #first dates #au #hallmark movie realness #something something romance #eventual smut #eventual angst #joannasteez

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quitealotofsodapop · 5 months

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Stone Egg theories + Luzhen

All are asks are connected to this post made about: what if Stone Monkeys could naturally reproduce asexually via converting their body into a new Stone Egg?

All images have transcripts btw.

1: Possibly. Wukong has a *lot* of immortalities. But accidentally creating a Stone Egg asexually takes a lot out of him physically and spirtually. His soul gets a permanent hit to it. The whole point of the Stone Egg is for either a monkey with a large familial group to produce an heir without a mate, or the last of a troop to fling a piece of hope into the future. Most don't survive, but some do. It helps to have a lot of magically talented friends/family around to stabilize your body once the egg-creating process has begun so you can heal. Though I bet most single monkeys prefered adoption if at all necessary - accidentally giving the Stone Monkey kind a hyper-active parental instinct towards non-related infants of similar species.

He probably gets cravings for a lot of rocks, metal and bones in the process.

2 & 3: (@soniclozdplove) Guanyin realised that she gotta put her stone monkey on birth control if they were gonna keep him underground. Her brain jumped to "He's made of rock right? rock spirits eat metal... right?? Crap, it's the only thing down here." and cue molten copper and iron pellets for dinner. The question is; was it even that painful for Wukong? Man takes out his organs a bunch of times and bathes in hot oil in Jttw without complaint. Odds are in the moment it felt like the worlds worse heartburn/spicy food burn since he really is made of earth materials. XD

He probably felt super grateful once he realized why Guanyin was feeding him molten metal. He didn't want kids in that circumstance either!

4: A furiously confused pregnant Wukong! He immediately starts yelling at Gold Star for answers, and has to be talked down from trottling the Buddha himself for this. Tripitaka is panicking, he's never been around a pregnant person before!

Wukong doesn't even need the circlet in this verse. Guanyin just gives him false labor contractions and he's behaving immediately. He probably has to lug the egg in his body around for some extra time, maybe even until the Journey is over depending on how funny the Buddha or Bixia Yuanjun (goddess of childbirth) is feeling.

Macaque sees Wukong pregnant this way and is confused, dismayed, and yelling "Who's the father!?" at every Pilgrim. It takes him a while to understand that the Stone Egg happened cus of SWK being essentially slow-cooked underground for 500 years. Even if Macaque plays nice with the Pilgrims afterwards, he's still glaring at anyone who comes near Wukong and "their" egg.

Wukong endears himself to many people simply because he's with child. Probably gets an extra godly nickname (something like "Meihou-Wangmu" a pun on his Handsome Monkey King title + Queen/King Mother) refering to him as a fertility figure - women seeking luck with having/not having children approach Wukong asking for his blessing, and odds are it works because of who his creator is. XD

But he also attracts unique threats that the pilgrims have to personally destroy to protect him - Krasues and Manananggals anyone?

The second the Journey is over, Wukong kneels over and with an literal earth-shattering scream out *pops!* a little Stone Egg. All happy and cracking open minutes later. His and Macaque's first born isn't told the details of their creation for a long time.

5 & 6: Gold Star gives Shadowpeach the Stone Monkey version of The Talk and warns them never to get buried alive unless they're 100% sure about it. Macaque and Wukong are terrifed into not having kids until Guanyin let sit slip that the "regular way" should work too.

In "The Monkey King and the Infant" au; Gold Star was a little more than shocked to hear about MK/Xiaotian's creation XD

Macaque is sadly unlikely to ever carry a "clone egg" to term or survive the full process. His body is a lot smaller/weaker than Wukong's and he was deprived of a lot of nutrients as a newborn (stuck on the moon = very few vitamins). So if he ever got triggered into parthenogenesis, his body would likely just refuse to create an egg. No gas in the tank.

Baby Luzhen is born from SWK, and he immediately takes out the roof/part of the Jade Palace with eye lazers. Giggling, he fails to notice the looks of horror on his family's faces.

Pigsy shoudl be just used to this nonsense by now. In the TMKATI Au; MK was a rogue comet Harbringer baby, the twins were freebies from Diyu, Yuebei was the reincarnation of one of their greatest enemies, the twin boys are likely reincarnated lunar node deities, and ofc now Luzhen decides to spawn in like a chicken egg.

I love the idea of Tang hearing all these gory details like;

Tang: "This is like finding a living dinosaur egg or a thylacine! Imagine if any of your children married a regular monkey demon- it could completely bring back your species!"

Wukong + all Three Realms shudder at the thought - Wukong mostly because he aint never doing that again. Gold Star of Venus and Lao Tzu hum, intrigued at the thought.

Tang starts crying when he realises that single-parent Stone Monkeys would likely be born orphans. It's so sad! :'(

6: Nah, Luzhen pops out all newborn baby. You see, being born fully-developed from a Stone Egg is a huge rarity; only occurring when the whole troop has died out and the egg is left on its own for thousands of years. If a Stone Monkey parent is "awoken" early enough (like within say 500-600 years) in the Egg's development and tended to quickly, their bodies stabilize into a long, but far less dangerous form of pregnancy. Its a safeguard for in case the pregnant survivor of an extinct group is found by a new troop, the parent survives and can live to possibly reproduce with the new unrelated group (higher chance of viable mates).

The only sacrifice being that the babies in these "soft-boiled" Stone Eggs are a lot weaker, premature even. The eggs themselves having a much higher chance of being empty or just absorbing straight back into the parent. Many who survived the process just sighed, it was the law of nature - why risk a possible baby for the parent when survival is preferred?

Luzhen is able to be born simply because Wukong has such a solid support system and healthcare available to him.

Ty for all these asks! I guess I should make a special "Stone Egg talk" tag for these ideas!

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defectivevillain · 1 year

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backbiter

pairing: luke castellan x reader

reader’s pronouns: unspecified

cw: injury, fainting. this one is very angsty, folks. mwahhahhahaah

You’ve always known that there’s a darker side to Luke Castellan. You first met him a few years ago, as a demigod of undetermined parentage. The two of you quickly bonded over your dislike of, well, your godly parents. It would take nearly six months for your godly parent to make themselves known and, when they did, you couldn’t summon the energy to be grateful.

Since then, Luke and you do practically everything together. You eat meals, play camp games, and train with each other. Where one of you goes, the other is soon to follow. Everyone at camp has long accepted that fact.

Even though you and Luke are so close, you sense a lingering darkness within him. You’ve always indulged his somewhat antagonistic, borderline cruel personality. However, recently, his jaded remarks have increased in frequency. You begin to find that you can’t go through a day without Luke commenting about the gods and their selfishness.

“Are you okay?” You finally manage to ask Luke one day, as the two of you sit in a secluded meadow. You’re both sitting on an unusually large rock. The plants near your feet bend in the wind. The sun beats down on your skin, but it’s a welcome feeling. You chance a glance to your side.

“Yeah,” Luke responds, biting his lip. His gaze is honed in on some point in the distance. His expression almost seems vacant. You wonder if he’s thinking about something else.

“You sure?” You can’t help but ask. Luke usually doesn't sugarcoat his thoughts or opinions. He doesn’t lie to you. At least, you don’t think so. “You’ve seemed a little off lately.”

“Can I be honest with you?” Luke finally meets your gaze. You nod at the question, feeling both relieved and anxious at the prospect. He wasn’t telling you the truth, at first. “I’m leaving Camp Half-Blood soon.”

“Why?” You choke out after a few seconds. There’s an ugly premonition settling in your mind. The trees around the wooded meadow almost seem to cave in on you. You feel remarkably out of place, all of a sudden.

“I don’t think there’s much left for me here,” Luke continues, clenching his fists. Your eyebrows furrow as you notice the reddish white marks resulting from his tight grip. “I want to do something with my life. I want to make something of myself. I don’t want to be known as the son of Hermes- especially when he’s been such a shitty father.”

You swallow hard. It seems he’s already decided. A question is weighing heavily on your mind. You’re not sure if you want to know the answer to it, however. “When are you leaving?” You manage to choke out.

“Tomorrow.” Your heart stalls in your chest. Luke, your best friend, your partner, is leaving tomorrow. He’s leaving tomorrow. When you look over to him, there’s an expectant look in his eyes. It makes your stomach turn with uneasiness.

“Luke, I...” You can’t find it in yourself to utter the words. I can’t. I can’t come with you. You shake your head silently. The back of your throat starts to burn.

“I was worried this would happen,” Luke shakes his head, his voice cracking a little. Your chest feels incredibly tight. Your breaths feel more labored, less easy and free. You don’t want to think about it- the camp without Luke in it. “I wanted you to come with me, but I wasn’t sure if you’d want to.”

Luke reaches out and grips your waist. You blink at him in thinly veiled confusion. You feel as if you’re at the mercy of the conversation. You... don’t entirely know what’s happening. His hands sneak up your sides and his fingers clench your shirt collar. Before you can quite recognize what’s happening, his lips meet yours. Almost as soon as the kiss begins, it ends. Luke pulls away before you can even begin to process the situation.

“I’m sorry,” Luke remarks, his voice cutting through the confused haze lingering in your mind. You take in his clasped hands, the complex expression on his face. There’s something wrong here. You’re not sure why, but you have a dreadful feeling that something bad is going to happen.

“For what?” For kissing me? For leaving? Your thoughts are running rampant. You lean back a bit further and look up at the sky, trying to calm yourself down. Your companion doesn’t reply for a few moments. “Luke?” He doesn’t respond, but his gaze flickers to the ground near your feet. You look down, dread coiling in your chest when you see a large, venomous scorpion.

“Oh, fuck-” You try to scramble back further on the rock, but the scorpion is persistent. By the time you grab your sword, it’s already sunken its pincers into your ankle. Its stinger moves quick as lightning and you can’t suppress the pained hiss that crawls out of your throat as it stings you. You fall down to the ground, your vision swirling around you. Your skin is prickling in immense pain, and you weakly look up to the sky. A blurry silhouette moves to stand over you, and you only realize it’s Luke after a few moments. His lips are quirked into a twisted, malicious smirk- one that looks incredibly wrong.

“It’s okay,” Luke whispers, crouching down and gripping your jaw. Your lip is trembling, you realize. The sunlight above suddenly seems to burn holes into your vision. You close your eyes and try not to think about what just happened. Your teeth are chattering and you feel as if your skin is licked with flames.

Shadows creep along the edges of your sight. You take a shuddering breath and try to keep your eyes open, but the pain in your ankle is taking your energy. Luke’s hand cradles your face, his thumb wiping away the tears you didn’t realize you had shed. Your vision is quickly fading, and the last thing you see before succumbing to the darkness is the torn expression on Luke’s face.

#defectivevillain #Luke castellan #Luke castellan x reader #Luke castellan x male reader #x gn reader #gn reader #male reader #pjo x reader #pjo x male reader #whump #angst

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doberbutts · 9 months

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Hey there! Before I begin, I totally understand if you aren't comfortable with answering questions about this. Feel free to delete this ask.

Would you mind describing the treatment of animals you saw when you were in Mennonite communities? I've heard Amish and Mennonite communities treat them more like tools than living creatures.....

Yes, Mennonites and Amish largely treat their animals as tools and a means to an end rather than like living creatures deserving of their own respect. Understand that this is very much hard-coded into the religion and culture itself, so it is a difficult mindset to combat. Even Mennonite-adjacent communities often treat their animals in a similar manner, even if they say that they don't like that type of ownership, because of the same.

In the Christian Bible, there are a lot of verses about man having dominion over the earth and nature existing to do two things: worship God and serve Man. And Anabaptists in general believe that the best way to worship God is through hard manual physical labor and rejecting any and all paths that make this labor easy. It's why the Amish don't do electricity, for a rather extreme example, but it's also why many of these communities seem addicted to the ideals of "work" and "discipline" being the way to a Godly life.

So... if animals exist to serve Man and worship God, and the best way to worship God is through hard manual labor and rigid discipline (read: punishment) for anyone who steps out of line, it follows suit that the animals are not treated particularly kindly.

Don't get me wrong. These communities are also filled with horrific human rights violations. From child labor to forced marriage and impregnation to abandonment of the elderly and disabled to rampant domestic and sexual abuse to denial of education and medicine... this is not just an animal problem. I know I'm running an animal blog, but it's really important that if I talk about the way they treat their animals, I also have to talk about the way they treat the women, the children, the elderly, the disabled, and anyone who dares think outside of their strict rules. The care for the animals is just a symptom of the same problem.

It is my experience that the Amish are worse about it than the Mennonites, but they are also sort of cut from the same cloth so various communities of either can really vary widely. Animals are expendable. They serve their purpose and then they die and the owners get a new one. Dogs, cats, horses, livestock, doesn't matter. Most of these animals are not pets and, even if they are, they are not pets in the same way that my dogs are pets. If they get sick, letting them die or killing them outright is usually the path taken instead of medicine. If medicine is used, it's what can be purchased from a trip to the local farm store, not actual doctors and prescriptions.

Unfortunately, pretty much every attempt to fix this problem has been met with "it's my religion" and thus it continues to be an issue. Again, I have to stress, this is a religious problem, there are very specific verses they are using to justify this. It also does not help that their religion teaches that "the world" (anyone outside of their local church community) will try to lead them astray by telling them their religion and religious practices are morally wrong, and so pretty much any "hey maybe don't work the horses on the plow until they literally fall over dead" or "hey maybe breeding hundreds of dogs per year with no vet care or oversight is not the nicest way to do this" is met with "THE DEVIL is trying to tell me THE WAY I SERVE GOD is WRONG, clearly this is an attack directly on my soul" and not like. "Maybe you are right and I should be nicer to my animals and not work them to death and provide vet care when they're sick and injured"

This is why I call both Amish and Mennonites cultists. You have to have experienced the religion and culture firsthand to understand how this all hooks together. It's not so simple as just improving the law because these communities believe they are not bound by the law in the first place.

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sebsxphia · 1 year

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troublemaker reader being fucked dumb on preacher!rhett’s lap in his car. hips jerking, drool slipping from your lips, mind completely empty. and of course rhett loves seeing you like this and taunts you 😵‍💫

(no, i have not gotten over him yet)

￫ a/n: this doesn’t fit into the ‘ptolemaea’ universe, but it’s going on the masterlist for it none the less! thank you @fidelias and @sarahsmi13s your minds are far too powerful! <3

preacher rhett is drawn to you for a multitude of reasons. he’s in awe of you and how you can be so breathtakingly bashful without caring what others think. after having to create a holy image of himself to prove he’s worthy enough to become a preacher, he admires you for it.

but on the other hand, rhett knows you’re sin and you stopped going to church from an early age.

rhett wants what he can’t have and he can’t help himself. he tells himself its his godly duty to show you the way of the lord and teach you a lesson for being a gloating troublemaker.

for you, his position in the church doesn’t bother you. what fucks with your head most is how badly he wants to corrupt you.

“i thought you’re a man of god?” you gasp as you rise and fall on rhett’s lap, feeling his cock slide in and out of you.

“i am, and it’s my duty to show you the hand of god ‘nd guide you to deliverance.” rhett’s lips are wet and warm on your neck as he holds your hips tighter.

“duty of god, what a loa- oh, fuck!”

rhett chuckles on your neck when your words escape you with a sinful moan as he angles his hips deeper inside of you. you feel his laugh vibrate through your flesh and you bury your face into his own neck, biting down on his soft flesh. you can taste his salty sweat and plain aftershave. nothing too fancy for a man of god.

the window of his truck has steamed up completely and all that can be heard is your needy whines and rhett’s solid grunts as he jerks his hips up and into you. he can feel your body go limp against him as he fucks you deeper into that headspace that gives him full control.

rhett keeps a steady hand on your hip and brings his other hand to hold your jaw and force you to look at him. when he pulls you away from his neck, there’s a line of drool attached to your lips and your eyes are glossy and fluttering shut with each thrust rhett gives you.

“y’ made a nasty mark on my shoulder, little harlot.” rhett’s pet name causes you to moan wantonly and your jaw would’ve gone completely slack if rhett wasn’t holding it. there’s more drool slipping from your lips and pooling on rhett’s calloused hand.

he smirks at you with a smile from the devil. “look at you,” rhett pinches your cheeks tighter and laughs between labored breaths from the movement of his hips.

“nothing to say? oh, sweet angel. i guess i’ve really fucked you dumb now, hm?”

#💌you’ve got mail #rhett abbott #preacher!rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott x y/n #rhett abbott drabble #rhett abbott smut #rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott imagine #lewis pullman #outer range

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yeslordmyking · 2 years

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May, 9 (Evening) Devotion

“Come, my beloved, let us go forth into the field ... let us see if the vine flourish.”

Song of Solomon 7:11,12

The church was about to engage in earnest labour, and desired her Lord’s company in it. She does not say, “I will go,” but “let us go.” It is blessed working when Jesus is at our side! It is the business of God’s people to be trimmers of God’s vines. Like our first parents, we are put into the garden of the Lord for usefulness; let us therefore go forth into the field. Observe that the church, when she is in her right mind, in all her many labours desires to enjoy communion with Christ. Some imagine that they cannot serve Christ actively, and yet have fellowship with him: they are mistaken. Doubtless it is very easy to fritter away our inward life in outward exercises, and come to complain with the spouse, “They made me keeper of the vineyards; but mine own vineyard have I not kept;” but there is no reason why this should be the case except our own folly and neglect. Certain is it that a professor may do nothing, and yet grow quite as lifeless in spiritual things as those who are most busy. Mary was not praised for sitting still; but for her sitting at Jesus’ feet. Even so, Christians are not to be praised for neglecting duties under the pretence of having secret fellowship with Jesus: it is not sitting, but sitting at Jesus’ feet which is commendable. Do not think that activity is in itself an evil: it is a great blessing, and a means of grace to us. Paul called it a grace given to him to be allowed to preach; and every form of Christian service may become a personal blessing to those engaged in it. Those who have most fellowship with Christ are not recluses or hermits, who have much time to spare, but indefatigable labourers who are toiling for Jesus, and who, in their toil, have him side by side with them, so that they are workers together with God. Let us remember then, in anything we have to do for Jesus, that we can do it, and should do it in close communion with him.

Daily Bible and Devotional for Women - http://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=daily.bible.for.woman

#God #Jesus #christianity #faith #work for God #God's work #labor for the Lord #do not be idle #godly service #at the feet of Jesus #God is with you #serve God #serve others #fellowship with God #bear fruit for God #devotional #bible verse

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neonblessing · 8 months

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⚠️ SPOILER ALERT! ⚠️ Click here to read Neon Blessing from the beginning!

LAYER 22 - THE DILUVIAN DISTRICT

EST. POPULATION: 100M HUMANS, 12 GODS

POINTS OF INTEREST: CHURCH OF MANIFOLD SORROWS, THE SACROLITH, A DISUSED DRAINAGE PIPE

Maggie’s house wasn’t the nicest place Shiv had ever crashed. That honor went to the hotel room the Floodkin had broken into for the night of her eighteenth birthday. Maggie’s wasn’t her favorite, either–that hideout was long gone, torn down and turned into a casino years ago. That said, she’d definitely slept in worse places: Mags didn’t expect anything from her besides chipping in on rent where she could; and the house was soundproofed, an essential in the Diluvian District.

Shiv stepped outside and slipped in a pair of cheap earplugs to drown out the roar of water. They deadened the sound but couldn't outright eliminate it. Distant waterfalls thundered at a trillion gallons a minute, kicking up the famous Diluvian Mists that could be felt anywhere in the district. The water cascaded down from the layers above and went coursing through a thousand canals and rivers on its way further down and deeper into the city. In the late morning glow of the street lamps, brilliant rainbows played about the skyscrapers. The ceiling of the layer was invisible under a blanket of fog.

Thankfully, most of the filtration happened on Diluvian 20, so the water here was clear and more or less safe to drink. The fountains were fed by the channels, and people huddled around them, holding cups out to the metal mouths of the godly statuary.

The streets of Diluvian 22 were full of people no matter the time of day. A train swept by overhead on suspended tracks, while cars careened through the narrow, twisting streets, and on every sidewalk and bridge and platform people of all sorts went about their business. An ear-splittingly loud torrentpunk song filled the morning air, courtesy of some band of street performers a block or two over.

Everything in the Diluvian was loud: the music, the people, and the fashion choices. It was always easy to tell when someone was new to the district: they tended to speak too quietly to be heard above the waterfalls, and wore shapeless and utilitarian raincoats. The dark fabric of formal suits and ties stood out against the riot of color, islands of corporate pretension amidst a sea of high-vis vests and neon street clothes.

Maggie’s house was located along Grief St., a little closer to the Church than Shiv would have liked. She was always careful to give it a wide berth, staying at least three blocks away from its stony facade where possible. By Shiv’s reckoning, there were twelve gods who called Diluvian 22 home, and Aluel was the worst of them.

The Church of Manifold Sorrows policed much of the district, from way down in layer 24 and up to 19, but the 22nd layer was where their goddess had built her cathedral. Aluel and her Sorrows (or Crybabies, as the Diluvian public called them) didn’t have that much weight to throw around, and mostly busied themselves protecting VIPs, confiscating firearms, and breaking up rowdy parties. Every few weeks they killed someone.

Nine of Diluvian 22’s gods were inconsequential: homeless, powerless, without domain or altar, too weak even to be conscripted as labor or as batteries. Even the Diluvian's mightiest were frequently ignored in prayers, with people choosing to throw their lots in with more influential gods.

As for the two remaining major gods, Ebrelurge’s name was cursed more often than it was praised, and no one of repute would be caught dead consorting with Ornarch. Shiv had gotten Ornarch’s black wings tattooed onto her shoulder blades when she was fourteen years old, and she figured she owed the old man a house call.

As she passed by a corner cafe wafting the smell of fresh-baked bread out into the foggy air, her stomach growled in appreciation. She hadn’t had anything to eat since yesterday’s lunch.

First Page – Previous Page – Next Page

#2 #neon blessing #shiv

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agvarina · 20 days

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What if kung lao being kidnapped triggered early labor, and raiden or fujin had to use there godly powers to heal and stop the labor?

#mortal kombat #kung lao #liulao #raiden #mk fujin

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beguines · 1 year

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Tabitha Arnold, "Workshop of the World"

"Workshop of the World" is a diptych set of rugs created at a 2021 residency for installation at the historic Glen Foerd estate. Inspired by Rodin’s Gates of Hell, one rug refers to the interior spaces of Glen Foerd, while the other depicts Northeast Philadelphia and the setting of the former Vici Kid leather factory. They hang as gates for visitors to pass through, with small cutouts that mimic the doors of the Polish Catholic church in Bridesburg.

Most of the figures in the rugs are laborers. Referencing Eastern Orthodox icons such as the "Last Judgment," the working-class characters bear halos and struggle upwards on a moral climb toward heaven. They dutifully act out a Protestant fetishization of labor that equates work ethic with redemption and godliness—but only for those whose class condition requires them to work in the first place.

#tabitha arnold #labor #textiles

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spurgie-cousin · 11 months

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ok my mom understandably had to go to bed (very late here in her time zone, and it's even an hour later in the one I'm used to) but I'm a mental masochist so I will trudge on until I can't physically watch Shiny Happy People anymore (and I'm just going to edit my comments instead of reblog bc so far there's really not a lot most of us aren't aware of):

- firstly, I knew Deanna was raised Christian but I didn't know she was raised VERY conservative Christian. Per Deanna, this is the reason Amy was allowed so much freedom; she didn't want to limit her as a female in any of the ways she was

- going off of that, I can see how that foundation would open Jim Bob up to a religion that is so insanely misogynistic

- I know it's a thing all of us who've been around a while have known, but it's all but explicitly said that the Duggar kids had any steal of rebellious beat out of them. By Michelle, regardless of what she sounds like.

- I can't help but wonder if this is the reason Michelle sticks so closely to this faith, even after all that's happened. Even as her own children have expressed how abusive their upbringing was. Leaving the ideology means admitting you were an abuser and not an educator.

- Jill felt like she lied in the Megyn Kelly interview. She didn't want to do it and said she wouldn't have without her parents urging, and she felt obligated to protect her family. She didn't want to do this interview, but didn't trust anyone else to tell the truth which, given her upbringing, I totally get.

- the interviews with other ex-IBLP kids are just as fascinating to listen to as Jill's (if not more bc a lot of them WANT to be there). Tia Levings in particular is so incredibly brave and wonderful, please follow her your preferred platform ❤️

- Mike Huckabee is an accomplice to abuse and ped*philia at best

- I know Derick can be insufferable but I promise he's worth listening to in this doc, at least so far (I'm halfway through episode 3). And he's a very serious Jill advocate, which I feel like all the Duggar girls need so badly.

- Jill didn't want anyone at her birth because SHE DIDN'T WANT TOO GO THROUGH WHAT ANNA WENT THROUGH. She agreed to a diary cam at most.

- For that work they did during their babies birth, the Dillards requested not a full paycheck, but a small health insurance renumeration fee from TLC, who asked them to do this work. TLC informed then that they had already paid all sums to Jim Bob.

- Jill has never received any amount of payment from TLC for all the time and work she had given them. Neither had Derick.

- this is probably a NO DUH for us around here, but here is a short list of IBLP/ATI approved lives of training, especially for minors who are doing work for free for other members of the organization (i believe the Bates kids are included in some of the pictures accompanyingthis part):

1. CoNSTrUCTioN!!!

2. Cosmetology (women only of course)

3. Ministry

4. Business?

5. Healthcare consultant

6. ALERT counselor

Secular college courses so not apply to accreditation in these fields

- other ex-IBLP members confirm that children were trained in construction trades and child labor was used gratuitously in the organization, for anything from repairs, to setting up conferences, to building actual buildings. And it was all, of course, free.

- ALERT confirmed as a purposeful paramilitary organization

- am ex-IBLP woman who was sent to ALERT states that they took tampons away from her, as they were a form of purity violation (she says they said she had purposefully taken her own virginity by using them).

- a woman raised in IBLP recounts a story at a conference in Oklahoma City where her roommate almost slit her throat with a knife over being a 'glutton'. Essentially, a teenage girl almost killed herself over not being thin enough to be 'godly'.

- David Green, the CEO of Hobby Lobby, is STILL IBLP's biggest donor. Don't fucking shop there!!!!

- a purposefully sanitized version of Bill Gothard's teachings have been and might still be used in elementary schools, prisons, police and military units as a way of indoctrinating those in attendance to be more open to absolute authority.

- All of the kids besides Jill & Derick might've very well signed a very lengthy contract that extends at least a decade. The Dillards didn't, and have received extreme yet Christian-flavored threats over it???

- The Dillards were using a food bank even after they asked Jim Bob for the most basic payment for their services to the show

- Jill, Derick, and others all agree tha Journey To The Heart was a vetting mechanism for Gothard's abuse victims

#the duggar family #shiny happy people #iblp #institute of basic life principles #tia levings

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flatbstanley · 3 months

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Friday, 12:42 pm—Old Salt House, San Myshuno

Claire: Thank you so much for treating me to lunch, Justin! I just hope that no one sees us and thinks you're leading me to the near occasion of sin.

Justin: They won't. This is just a business lunch, and it's always right for the gentleman to treat the lady.

Claire: That's so sweet of you. There aren't many gentlemen around these days.

Claire: I really loved being on your podcast and getting to meet your daughter. Do you think she'd be interested in coming on my channel?

Justin: I'm sure she would. And she's also hoping to start her own channel for Catholic girls. Young girls, that is -- nothing that would compete with your target audience.

Claire (giggling): Well, I'm hardly an old lady! But that's wonderful to hear. The way our world is going, we can always use more godly role models. You must be so proud of her -- and of all your children!

Justin: Gia is a wonderful young lady, for sure. I'm sure she'll grow up to be strong in the Faith like you. I just hope that the rest of her siblings turn out okay. It's sad to say, but my wife hasn't been very good about teaching them correctly. My oldest son wants to quit altar serving because he says it gets in the way of soccer. And Gia's younger sister Zelie -- she's very musical, but instead of proper liturgical music, she wants to learn the guitar! Can you believe that?

Claire: Oh no! But with such a great dad and such a great older sister, I'm sure they'll turn out okay.

[Justin's phone buzzing repeatedly]

Claire: Do you need to take that?

Justin: It's nothing important. Anyway, we should go over a few topics for future collaborations...

Transcript of Taylor's texts:

I need you to pick up Ambrose and Zelie today

Kelly's in labor and I can't leave her until Alan gets here

Did you see my message?

Justin?

Hello?

JUSTIN THIS IS AN EMERGENCY!

#fundie sims #ts4 gameplay #character: justin santoro #character: claire newton

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beardedmrbean · 3 months

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Okay am I the only Gen z who got the messages of hunger games and Percy Jackson?

The pjo books pointed out how the Titan Kronos exploited the shitty system the main 12 Olympians created and the much needed reformation the Greco-Roman pantheon needed in their treatments of lesser gods and demigods

The hunger games pointed out how BOTH sides exploit people like Katniss and was as bloodthirsty the capitol leaders.

Y’all remember how district 13 hides bombs in packages which lead to the death of innocent CHILDREN including Katniss sister prim right

Oh and the revolutionaries were planning on doing another hunger games with capitol kids as revenge.

Almost like revolutionaries are as shitty as the oppressors?

*cough* Killmonger *cough*

I mean PJO and Hunger Games gave as much nuance as they could while being published under Disney Hyperion and Scholastic .

But y’all didn’t get the memos

Oh right right my family issues so that why I got it.

Also another thing, the majority of enemies Percy Jackson and other demigods are monsters and gods going like “Your godly parent did something terrible to me so I’m going to take it out on you!”

Just like how for some goddamn reason, a poor white trailer boy is responsible for the evil shit the pilgrims did

But the Benin and Muslim people are A okay despite being the direct descendants of the Dahomey and

*check wiki*

Hmm, the Kashmir genocide, 9/11, the on going rampant killing of Nigerian Christian children by Muslim extremists

Obviously not all of them, but a lot of Gen z doing understand they have the mentality of VILLAINS rather than good people

Oh and my generation saying Osama Bin Laden was right. As a military brat and if I was heard someone say that in public

I will make the hunchback of Norte dome look like Prince Charming after the face rearranging I would do to those wokies

I never read any of those and only saw the first movies of the series's so I can't comment much on that.

Just like how for some goddamn reason, a poor white trailer boy is responsible for the evil shit the pilgrims did But the Benin and Muslim people are A okay despite being the direct descendants of the Dahomey and *check wiki* Hmm, the Kashmir genocide, 9/11, the on going rampant killing of Nigerian Christian children by Muslim extremists Obviously not all of them, but a lot of Gen z doing understand they have the mentality of VILLAINS rather than good people

With the not all of them, yes you're 100% right it's a oddity we get people online making 30 tweet threads about how black Americans are not a monolith but individuals each one being the sum of their own lived experiences which are different from each others.

And then Simone Biles smashes through the record books again (girl is unreal, just wow) and all of a sudden it's melanin power and all that jazz firing right back up. Or god forbid Tim Scott says something

the root: we don't do the HN shame

Also the root: but......

Not so bad as Atlanta Black Star can be but still. ______________

the people cheering on the various Islamic groups confuse the shit out of me, if they think white Europeans were harsh with them they should look up slavery in the middle east.

there were some bright spots yes, but mostly it was slave labor till you could labor no more and then you get left to die

Last place to make slavery illegal was Mauritania in 1982, it was lip service though since having slaves wasn't actually criminalized till 2007.

Still "bonded" servants there too, fancy name for slave/indentured servant for those that may not know that one.

#zoomer huey anon

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quitealotofsodapop · 4 months

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Nezha in the Century Egg au;

Almost forgot our perfect lotus boy!

In the Century Stone egg au; Wukong entrusts Nezha with waking him up/taking a peak at the cave every so often, but he doesn't let him in on *why* Wukong is "meditating" for 500 years. Wukong fears Nezha pulling a DBK-level move and he can't risk it .

Nezha agrees, but obviously he's pulling double duty as is with guarding the Map to the Samadhi Fire, so he sometimes forgets what he was meant to do. He sometimes runs into Princess Iron Fan when he visits Flower Fruit Mountain, and depite being former comrades, he feels no hate towards her. Nezha understands that Wukong is one of the few connections that PIF has left in the Mortal Plane, and thinks it's perfectly reasonable for her to be on standby until the monkey wakes up from his deep sleep.

Then one day, as Nezha is *actually* meditating; he's flipping through some requests/prayers to him when he gets a very unusual prayer from FFM;

Ao Yi, hands clasped and crying: "Nezha, Patron God of Children - please ensure my little Mei is found safe and well!"

Nezha: "What the- dragons don't pray to me..."

And they don't. After the incident with Ao Bing, dragons as a whole would rather due than be caught praying to the Lotus Prince. Even to request the safety of their children.

Feeling very sus, Nezha flies down to ask the dragon parents whats up - especially since PIF told him that very few souls are able to even reach the Monkey King's island without permission.

The two dragons are completely distressed, explaining that they were relaxing on a camping trip and that their toddler-aged pup had wandered off into the jungle after what looked to be a supernatural flame.

Nezha manages to brush off the weirdness of his "clients" being dragons enough to zero in on where the little pup had run off too- and she's in Brother Wukong's cave!

Nezha zips towards Water Curtain Cave with the dragon couple at his heels. He bursts through the waterfall only to see the dirty dragon pup digging around in the soil with.... Wukong's Pilgrim brothers?

And whats that statue of a monkey doing here??

PIF: "Oh, Nezha. Glad you're here. Hold him for me please.* PIF: *hands Nezha toddler Red Son* Nezha: "EH!?" The Monkey *statue*: *starts cracking like an egg* Nezha: "?!?!?"

Its a very odd family reunion.

The lotus prince has to be filled in on some details once Wukong wakes up, and he will have things to say about Wukong burying himself for 500 years to have a baby. And he's seconds away from throttling the monkey when he hears that the process is potientially lethal no matter the immortality.

He accidentally sorta joins the Noodle Shop gang's found family? Mostly cus Tang mentioned that the Lotus Prince died as a child, and the rest got super protective of him.

The real confusion for the Lotus Prince comes about when he's called to act as baliff at the trial of Sun Wukong vs the Heavenly and Infernal Court!? What?! How did this happen- "Oh hi Macaque."

Nezha is trusted as a high-ranking officer to keep the Six Eared Macaque detained for the trial. Nezha wonders why Macaque is pretending to be held by the ropes/handcuffs.

Nezha delivers a pretty solid testimony/character witness for Wukong, as I do believe he defended Wukong while in the presence of a Boddisattva in Jttw, and he pretty much considers the monkey a brother figure.

Nezha is one of the gods to glance over at Wukong when the Monkey King started shifting uncomfortably in his seat. His godly powers told him *something* was happening, but being a mental teenager, Nezha couldn't think what.

Then the Monkey King goes into labor in the middle of the Heavenly Court while pleading for the soul of his mate.

Nezha naturally freaks the frick out.

#lmk nezha #century stone egg au #stone egg talk #sun wukong #pregnancy tw #lmk aus #lmk pif #lmk princess iron fan #lmk mei #childbirth tw

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