Tumgik
#progressive preachers
Note
Do you know any good preachers of a more progressive/accepting persuasion who post their sermons/homilies online? The folks I used to listen to I very strongly disagree with on many things now *shrugs*
Sorry for the delay in answering!
I have an old masterpost of progressive church services & sermons, I imagine some of the links are broken now but that's a starting place!
I imagine others have great recs for you — followers?
16 notes · View notes
sorryflorrie · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media
WIP of my first flash! It is inspired by Ethel Cain♡
Recently i got into Preacher's Daughter and i now understand why everyone loves it so much, she is such a fucking talented and beautiful artist
im so excites to finalise this flash and come up with more designs, i think i need to lean into some more of those 'country' elements that can fit in with the fish lure, tree hide, hunting aesthetic
22 notes · View notes
daughterofcainnnn · 3 months
Text
planning to work at the fair this summer to gather up money incase hayden visits my area for a tour in the future >w<
26 notes · View notes
sebsxphia · 8 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
willoughby rhett abbott.
thank you my beloved jenna (@sunblchdfly) for encouraging this idea forever and ever and ever! <3
34 notes · View notes
eric-the-bmo · 3 months
Text
I have.,,, finally cleaned off a small section of my dresser,,, //flops
Tumblr media
3 notes · View notes
tvvoheadedlamb · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
• i’m not your godiva. i’m not the one to pull you out. • // work in progress
23 notes · View notes
terrainofheartfelt · 2 years
Text
oops I did it again.
by it I mean print out a physical copy of a draft to mark up and proof
6 notes · View notes
foxxsong · 8 months
Text
.
#i miss going to shul a lot but I'm. conflicted.#my medical stuff that was preventing a lot of it has been improving to the point where i think i technically could again#but the only synagogue that's easily accessible for me is... i dunno. i love the community there#i really do. but they don't have a Rabbi or even offer Judaism 101 classes so i can't progress in conversion like i desperately want#and on top of it they always - at least when I've gone - have some sort of pastor or preacher present who is encouraged to participate#disregarding my distaste with them having Christian leaders present but no Rabbi because i know they're hurting financially#(the previous one retired RIGHT before i was able to start attending. i even got to meet his last conversion student on my first trip. ouch)#i have such severe Christian trauma that the last time i went and the preacher started talking about the bible i nearly had a full blown#panic attack that would've sent me running out of the room if i wasn't trapped in place by how mortified i would've been by doing that#so while i applaud their outreach program stuff and do agree with its necessity because of the size and area they're in#i just. don't feel safe going. but i can't get to the other nearest ones without having to make multiple people drive me.#and it's so close to the High Holy Days that i don't want to scare anyone or be a bother. and i can't get over the feeling that#I'd be abandoning the first community that welcomed me despite them pointing me in this direction since they know they can't help me convert#because i don't know if I'd be able to bring myself to go back even if i wanted to#but at the same time... i can't as easily get to the others. so what would i be meant to do after finishing my conversion?#assuming i even COULD because of the distance.#sigh...#no one said it was gonna be easy but of all the possible hurdles did it really have to be these?#(i wonder sometimes how much their struggle to get more than a handful of people to show up regularly#might also have to do with the fact that I'm not sure how many Jews want to listen to Christian interpretations of the Torah on Shabbos...)
0 notes
thenyanguardparty · 3 months
Text
USAmerican ex-protestant who thinks catholics are all fun loving progressives because their evangelical preacher told them that but as a bad thing
2K notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
the Preacher Belos caravan is complete ! :D You can see my process in my previous post here : https://www.tumblr.com/a-magpie-in-gravesfield/718764602918371328/progress-3?source=share
Tumblr media
650 notes · View notes
blackbird5154 · 2 months
Text
The famous "birds and bees" speech is an complex and witty lead-in to the song "Monstrance Clock". In any variation, it leads to the celebration of orgasm, which is the hidden content of the song. I've always marveled at how cleverly Papa weaves the web of his reflection, managing to covertly lay out in 9 minutes not only the banal "let's fuck" message but also a whole range of ideas that are very likely his personal beliefs. If you remember this speech well in its various versions, you can pick them out:
Censorship is hypocritical and useless: children will learn all the taboo topics anyway, or they already have.
Societies that censor sexual pleasure are backward and imbecilic. Enjoying sex is a good thing, and should not be restricted.
The conservative stratum thinks rock music and worship of evil (black mass) are the same thing. Just look at these narrow-minded people!
All forms of love are equal (support of gays and lesbians); encouragement of healthy equal relationships.
In fact, these are tenets of liberal ethics. What appears to be chatter actually contains ideological messages. Papa is not just an ambassador of female orgasms and a sex doll on stage. He is a preacher of liberal values: progressive social ideas, respect for individuals and their diversity, freedom of speech and self-expression. He opposes outdated medieval prejudices and narrow-minded conservatives. I think we can say that he is a man with strong convictions and an equally strong intention to promote them to the masses. I'll give more examples of that next time.
And he also said in plain text that he gets turned on by inexperienced partners 👀 fic-writers, you know what to do.
[part 3] ... [part 5]
127 notes · View notes
athingofvikings · 9 months
Text
For all that I'm completely willing and supportive in letting people identify however they choose, there are some contexts where you can't self-ID completely freely. The types that inspired this? Religion, ethnicity, and politics.
Religion and ethnicity are fairly straightforward; in my context, I've seen so, so many people who think that they can "declare [themselves] to be Jewish" and are flabbergasted and in denial that it's not that simple. This also goes for any closed tribal group or identity, so I think that doesn't need much explanation.
But politics, I hear you ask? How can self-ID be a problem there?
Well, let me paint you a picture.
A number of years back, before Drump's election, I was active on the BoingBoing BBS, and there was an individual who went by Max_Blanke. Max claimed to be a political moderate, insisting on it again and again and again...
But every position he took was on the political right, very often the far-right. Police shooting a black man with his hands up? "Wait for the investigation, we don't have all of the information." Black Lives Matter protestors marching? They're nothing but potential rioters and an active threat to law and order. Muslim women being harassed and assaulted? False flag operation. Trump supporters being socially ostracized? They're clearly one step away from being rounded up and put into reeducation camps. Police officer with a Nazi tattoo on his arm? Oh, that's not exactly a Nazi eagle, it's different in a few tiny details. Republicans engaging in voter suppression? Don't we all know that the real threat is voter inflation and voter fraud?
And so forth.
It got to the point that it was pretty damn obvious that he was either A) a closeted fascist in denial, or B) a troll.
But he claimed, loudly and repeatedly, that he was a moderate, and that we were just bullying him, and so long as he kept his bigotry quiet and deniable, he was able to keep from being censured by the mods.
And this is a pattern I see again and again and again. Max was just one example (admittedly one that I took a lot of pleasure in ripping to pieces, calling out his fallacies and double standards, and showing his patterns of behavior to the rest of the forum, which is why he comes easily to mind); you will have people who claim to be socialists... but who regurgitate every right-wing culture war talking point. You will find people who claim to be progressive... but the actions and rules they want implemented would make society into a totalitarian surveillance state. You will find people who claim that they are leftists... and the behavioral standards they espouse could have come from Baptist preachers. And so forth.
Of course, there's the question of "Why is this important?"
Because end goals matter. This is not a matter of "my tribe wins"; these ideas will affect real people if and when they get implemented.
333 notes · View notes
ostrichmonkey-games · 6 months
Text
And we have a winner!
Tumblr media
So let's talk about the TECHNOCCULSTIST, how it fits into Stampede Wasteland, and the anatomy of a class in general.
TECHNOCCULTIST
mage-priests of the Wastes. sorcerers who bargain with tech-devils. preachers who spread the impact words of the Crash Saints. +LVL when rolling with TECH: when you're dealing with logic, construction, crafting, ritual, tech-devils, magic
Technoccultists are the spellcasters of Stampede Wasteland. They're the only class who can actually cast spells due to both their connections to the Crash Saints and the tech-devils. If you have levels in Technoccultist, you get to add your level to any roll that has you dealing with anything that falls within the purview of the class.
Aesthetics
Countless charms worn across your body
Tattoos of Crash scripture scrawled on your skin
Incense emitting, heavy cloak
The mark of a tech-devil upon your brow
ABILITIES
Here's where we start to get into the meat of a class: its abilities. Currently, there's no limit to how many times you can use a class ability, though some do come with built in narrative restrictions. The Gunslinger for example has to consume a bullet (really just the gunpowder inside it) to use an ability and the Wildwander needs to have their symbiotic beast with them to access some of their abilities. The Technoccultist is a little special in that it has only two kinds of "abilities": Learn a Spell or Pledge yourself to a Crash Saint.
Learn a Spell: This ability can be taken multiple times. Each time it is taken, roll + Spells known. On a success, you are corrupted by the tech-devil you are consorting with. Gain the mark of this tech-devil in a visible location upon your body. Tradition teaches caution when consorting with the tech-devils. Proper rituals and offerings to your Saintly patron will protect you. 
Technoccultists are really the only people in the Wastes who can learn spells, and for good reason. The only things out there that can grant the power to cast spells are the tech-devils: ancient, pre-Crash AI that have been changed by the Warp. They're dangerous, powerful, and capricious. Some orders of technoccultists have half-shackled tech-devils enshrined within their monasteries. But far more common are tech-devils that wander the Wastes or inhabit ancient Crash Sites, waiting to tempt the unawares with powerful bargains. Or at least that's what the orders teach. Spells are, within the fiction, complicated. Like psychic brainworms, pieces of sacred digital code, ancient executables transmuted into something else by the psychofield of the planet. No one's entirely sure, and most folk don't ever want to find out. The full mechanics of spells are still in-progress, but they're gonna be wild. Powerful and dangerous. Though technoccultists don't have a ton of abilities compared to some of the other classes, the spells they can learn more then make up for that.
Pledge yourself to a Crash Saint: Each time this is taken, choose a new saint. Gain one minor relic or icon of the Saint. When you wield the relic or icon, roll+LVL when dealing with anything that falls within their domains.
Technoccultists are also the only class that have this level of flexibility in their "skills", effectively making them the "skill monkeys" of Stampede Wasteland. It is not easy to get bonuses to dice rolls in this game (you can lower the difficulty in other ways though)! But if you ever wanted to round out some "skills", then you can pick up some new patron Saints. How does this work in the fiction? The different orders all have slightly different theories, but the best working one is that the Crash Saints left "impressions" of themselves within the Warp, and when a technoccultist wields an icon or relic of that Saint, they can wrap those impressions of the Saint around them, effectively tapping into the powers of that Saint. Allegedly. Outside of the orders there's plenty of other ideas.
There are many Crash Saints, here are but a few.
Tumblr media
PREREQ: Make a sacrificial offering at a notable Crash Saint holy site.
The last mechanic that each class has is their prerequisite. The prereq is something that only becomes applicable as you start gaining levels outside of character creation and want to invest some of those levels in new classes you have no levels in yet. All prereq's are entirely narrative and can form the basis for future adventures.
And that's the TECHNOCCULTIST! Of the four classes, it has a fairly unique structure, but honestly, each of the classes has their own special quirks.
If you want to know more about Stampede Wasteland, you can check out the other posts in the tag, and follow along as I continue development! It's getting decently close to being text complete, so hopefully we'll see a release in the next couple of months.
150 notes · View notes
larkingame · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media
hello folks! I hope that January has treated you all well and that the beginning of 2024 has been kind to you so far. welcome to the second public update for larkin's monthly development of 2024! 
Personally, January seemed to fly by for me, and while it did provide a lot of time for work, it also posed some challenges and taught me a few things. The first of which, is the fact that the new Larkin is a //big// undertaking, bigger than I think even I realized when I first set out on this journey. While turning Larkin into an RPG, with dice rolls, stat checks and the like is a decision that I'm still very happy with and proud of my progress on--it's going slower than I'd necessarily like. To illustrate this to you, the prologue of Larkin currently sits at about 55k words, while the original twine prologue was at just about 21k words in it's complete scope. The big difference there being, in those original 21k words I managed to get the plot moving and the Preacher and Wyatt on their way to Nevada, but in the time that I've been working on the RPG version of Larkin, I've only just about gotten finished with the first major encounter. It's slow going, and I'm working really hard to ramp up the production speed--adjusting my schedule to wake up at 5:00 am to work for a few hours before work and school, and then coming home and working on larkin until about 1:30 am (as much I hate this fact, I //do// in fact need //some// sleep.) Even with all of my free time dedicated to work on Larkin or catching those few precious hours of sleep, I'm still not entirely happy with the speed at which I'm working on it--and I'm still experimenting to try and figure out what works best that helps me produce quality work with a quick turn-around. 
That being said, one of my new systems I've implemented to try and alleviate my production stress is that I've started dropping two updates to the game every week. The first update comes on Thursdays and is called what I've dubbed a 'Bulk' Update, it essentially builds on the choices/routes that have already been presented to the player, giving you room to explore your environment/develop your character compared to the Sunday 'Streamline' Update, that furthers along the plot of the story. Later tonight I'll be posting an update roadmap for the month of February on Patreon. 
Other brief updates about the progress of the game. For one, I've been working with two artists—one who is producing some art that'll be used as future patreon physical rewards and another who's putting together portraits of all the game's main characters that I am. Sickeningly excited about, considering that this artist is my current favorite working artist of all time. In total there's going to be sixteen character portraits that you'll be able to unlock throughout the course of the game, with slight variations depending on our relationship with that character. Other than that, me and my assistant Phillip are in the process of really trying to build a bigger social media presence for Larkin, so we'll be launching twitter/threads/bluesky/instagram and editing the tiktok pages for Larkin, that I'll drop in a card later tonight as well. I’ve also introduced another patreon tier of $1 for those of you who are wanting more consistent updates on the game development on Patreon!
STATS: 
PROLOGUE WORDCOUNT: 55, 750 words
ROUTE TRACKER: 1.5/11
PROLOGUE WORDCOUNT GOAL: 150k
57 notes · View notes
micamicster · 6 days
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Everyone is a monster to someone. Since you are so convinced I am yours, I will be it. / Progress cannot begin and suffering will not end until someone has the courage to go out into the woods and drown the damn cat.
Nebraska by Bruce Springsteen / Black Sails (2014-2017)
[image id: a series of 19 images from Black Sails, with the lyrics of Darkness on the Edge of Town by Bruce Springsteen superimposed on them.
"Well, everybody's got a secret, son," over Anne looking at Max's naked form through a door at the brothel.
[image id: a series of 12 images from black sails with lyrics from Bruce Springsteen's Nebraska superimposed over them in red.
"From the town of Lincoln, Nebraska," over a crowd of people at the docks in Nassau.
"with a sawed-off .410 on my lap" over Flint's hand holding a smoking gun.
"Through the badlands of Wyoming." over dark blue water.
"I killed everything in my path," over Flint shooting a gun. He is aiming straight out of the screen and his face is obscured by sparks.
"I can't say that I'm sorry for the things that we done," over Flint's face in profile in the scene where he says to Miranda (not pictured) that this ends when he grants England his forgiveness.
"At least for a little while me and her we had us some fun," over Silver's face during his descent into the darkness conversation with Flint.
"They declared me unfit to live," over Flint and Vane on trial in Charleston. They are viewed from behind sitting side by side.
"said: into that great void," over ghost Miranda screaming.
"my soul'd be hurled," over the preacher practicing his sermon in the cornfield.
"They wanted to know why I did what I done," over Flint and Silver's sword-fighting practice. Flint is holding a sword out to Silver by its hilt.
"Well, sir," over Silver's and Flint in the jungle on Skeleton island. Silver's face is in focus in the foreground and Flint is visible blurred over his shoulder. Silver's face is partially cut-off by the edge of the frame.
"I guess there's just a meanness in this world," over Max talking to Grandma Guthrie (not pictured) about needing to drown the damn cat.
48 notes · View notes
ofthecaravel · 30 days
Text
Tumblr media
Heaven In Time
Chapter 1
Chapter 2: Am I A Con Man Or A Brother?
Danny Wagner x Sam Kiszka
Summary: A year or so after meeting, Sam and Danny are on the road again and hope to get through Sam's home state of Alabama with no trouble. Easy enough, right?
Tags: Religious trauma, hella guilt tripping/mentions of religious upbringing, Fighting, sauciness but no outright smut, healthy ass relationship
Words: 5.6k
A/N: Welcome back! Sorry! Let me know what you think. Chap 3 is in progress 👀 Also this is kinda random but would any of y'all be interested in a playlist for this fic? Do people still do that?
~~
“You gonna be good while I go in?”
“Ye of little faith.”
“You, mister, of chatting mouth and wayfaring legs.”
“Since when do you complain about my legs? You didn’t seem to mind ‘em when they were over your sh-”
“Hey now, hey now, okay. What did I just say about behaving yourself? Jesus Christ.”
Sam laughed brashly as he hopped up on the hood of the truck and made a show of crossing his legs with an angelic smile. Danny, standing over Sam with a firm grasp on his chin, rolled his eyes with the beginnings of a smile spreading over his tan face. It had turned out that Danny’s initial baseless accusations of Sam’s rebellious attitude had proven to be mostly accurate, with the only difference being that Sam’s tendency to wander around fell more on the side of striking up friendships with random strangers and impeding their errands schedule rather than picking fights with vagrants and ending up in the back of sketchy white vans. Over the last year they’d spent on the road, Sam’s increasing confidence and grasp on individuality had given him a smart mouth and big opinions. Gone were the days of the meek, awkward preacher’s son with a guilty conscience that sat on his chest like a rock. Now he stood tall with a proud demeanor and, more often than not, in cut off denim shorts with a cigarette hanging from his bitten lips. 
Sam settled on the hood in that same fashion then, pulling a cigarette from the pack bulging in the front pocket of his tiny shorts and sticking it in his mouth, pleadingly pushing it out towards Danny with a calculated batting of his lashes to get the point across. Danny rolled his eyes again but quickly pulled a lighter from his pocket and lit it up, secretly very pleased to be the one to dote on Sam. Despite Sam’s drastic change in personality making him a far cry from the dusty hitchhiker Danny had picked up back in Texas, Danny’s affection only grew as the months passed them by. It was weird for him to look back on how this trip had begun: alone and directionless, setting off from his family farm in Florida with no one at his side. Sometimes when they were driving, Danny found it hard to recall a time without Sam’s passenger side chatter. How did he get as far as Texas without it? Silence was distressing to him now. Still, he found great fun in requesting it of Sam.
“Just stay here and be quiet,” Danny requested with faux exasperation. “I’m only gonna be in there for a few minutes for snacks and paying for gas and the bathroom. I don’t want to come out to you preaching to your huddled masses like that time in Santa Ana.”
“I know,” Sam whined. “How many times do I have to tell you those guys came up to me?”
“Watch your tone,” Danny whispered as he leaned in, his grasp returning to Sam’s jaw. “What you should know is that I want to get us through Alabama as fast as possible, okay? For you, Sammy, remember that.”
“Yeah,” Sam grumbled, removing the cigarette from his lips with a guilty frown. “I do know. Sorry, daddy.”
Sam batted his lashes again and watched Danny’s face flicker at his words. It was a cheap trick, but it certainly didn’t hurt to slip in Danny’s favorite nickname every once in a while to win his favor in a matter of seconds. 
“It’s okay,” Danny instantly assured him, melting like he always did at the title Sam had appointed him. It only ever trickled into their daytime conversations when Sam was being truly appreciative. He gave Sam a quick kiss before letting him go and taking a step towards the gas station itself. 
“5 minutes max, I promise.”
“Go already,” Sam grinned, waving with a royal flourish as Danny tossed him a wink and went through the chiming doors of the gas station, leaving Sam to take a drag from his cigarette and watch its smoke unfurl into the clear sky above. It was a still, sweltering summer day, the kind of familiar weather that kept Sam aware of their presence in his home state. There was no way to get to their destination of Danny’s Floridian hometown without going through Alabama, which Sam kept swearing up and down would be no issue to him, despite the both of them knowing that Sam would no doubt have at least one instance of grief. So far he was having no problems, and as he absently bounced his shoe and closed his eyes against the comforting sun, Sam started to actually feel optimistic.
After a minute, Sam became aware of the creeping feeling that he was being watched. With his eyes closed it felt unfounded, but when gut instinct and a rolling chill over his otherwise sweaty skin told him to peek and assess his surroundings, he realized that he had good reason for it. 
Outside the gas station standing on the ledge of sidewalk facing the last pump was a young man dressed in a short sleeved, cream colored button down staring directly at Sam. His features were blurry because of the distance and because Sam only had one eye open to assess him, but Sam could see that he had his dark, shoulder length hair pulled into a neat, low ponytail and that he grasped a stack of pamphlets in his hands. This tidy, modest appearance hit a little too close to home for Sam and he scowled remembering when something similar used to be his daily attire. Danny had joked about Sam’s preaching, but he and his brothers really did used to stand on sidewalk corners like the guy in front of him now, waving their hands and crying out with adolescent passion. His scowl deepened and he closed his eyes.
Great, Sam thought in annoyance, pursing his lips against his cigarette. Rookie mistake to actually make eye contact with the guy. Now he’s gonna be over here any minute now asking me about my relationship with God. That’s gotta be the last thing I wanna think about right now. No, thank you.
Another few minutes passed and the creeping unease remained in the pit of Sam’s stomach and kept his ears perked uncomfortably. With an irritated sigh, he opened his eyes again and saw that, sure enough, the sidewalk preacher was still staring him down. He had even moved up a couple pumps, now only a few feet away from Sam. Doing his best not to look at the guy, Sam groaned and slid off the hood of the car, flicking his cigarette onto the pavement and crushing it under the rubber sole of his Converse. The man took this as an opportunity to hastily approach. Sam couldn’t help but give a theatrical sigh at the sight, leaning his head back to stare at the sky for another moment as a last ditch effort to ground himself before the inevitable nonsense. 
He must have seen me and Danny, Sam concluded mentally. And now he’s here to save my soul from our sinful ways. Whoopee.
“Listen, man, I don’t want any trouble,” Sam started, already frustrated. “I know the spiel, okay? God didn’t work for me, it’s nothing personal.”
“Sammy?”
Sam’s head immediately jerked forward to properly face the man in front of him. In an instant, he was drowned in cold and felt his knees threaten to buckle. He struggled not to disassociate, breathing urgently through his nose as his lips shut and refused to part. 
How could he have stared right into this face and not seen who it was in an instant? There was no else whose voice would crack with such specific inflection over his nickname; a nickname never given freely, mind you. 
The round brown eyes constantly shadowed from worry and late night prayer. The combed dark hair and disciplined posture. 
It was Jake, his brother, a thousand times over.
“Sammy,” Jake repeated. He sounded worn down and nearly pleading, seemingly just as baffled as Sam about seeing his brother before him.
Sam couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. His thoughts were thick with shame and gave no more room for that last little spark of hope that he could make it through Alabama unscathed. All he could do was gawk at Jake, who gawked right back at him with what he knew was a near identical expression to his own. He had always felt he existed as some warped mirror of Jake, and here he was, pressed up against the glass yet again when he thought he’d shattered it long ago.
“What are you doing here?” Sam whispered. With their hometown miles out from the provincial rest stop they were at, Sam was becoming increasingly convinced that Jake’s presence was a mirage brought on by the heat.
“What are you doing here?” Jake countered. His eyes were wild and darted over Sam head to toe. A hand came up to grasp his forehead, a nervous tic that Sam remembered (of course) and found oddly comforting to see after all this time.
“Gas,” Sam answered dumbly. It was true, but obviously not the answer Jake was looking for. Sam felt close to tears in a manner of seconds when hurt flashed over Jake’s face, clearly from Sam’s cold brevity and…well, everything.  
“So, you have a car now?”
“I-”
“Come on, babe, what’d I say? No mingling!”
Sam had hardly registered the crisp bell of the gas station doors cheerily bursting open, revealing Danny with an armful of beers and wrapped sandwiches. He wore a bright smile as he usually did when he was with Sam, and Sam watched helplessly as it fell at the sight of Sam’s face painted with frozen desperation. Never taking his eyes off of Sam, Danny set his treasures down on his seat through the truck’s open window and was at Sam’s side in a second, a protective hand already up to shove Jake back if need be. 
“Can I help you, man?” Danny asked curtly, glaring down at Jake with his dark eyebrows furrowed menacingly.
“Who is this guy?” Jake asked Sam in an amused tone, as if he truly couldn’t believe that Sam would go anywhere near Danny. When Jake had known him, it would have been a fair assumption for him to make, but now there was nothing further from the truth.
“Who are you?” Danny shot right back, adjusting to stand partly in front of Sam. His shield and sword all rolled into one. Sam felt grateful for his protection but knew it was unnecessary. 
“Danny, this is, uh, my brother,” Sam introduced nervously, putting a hand on his bare arm and giving it a calming squeeze. “Jake, this is Danny.”
Jake held out a polite hand for Danny to shake, which he obliged with a mistrustful squint of his hazel eyes. In Sam’s stories about his childhood, Jake had never really been the enemy in any of them, save for silly childhood disputes. But his compliance never made him a hero either, and Sam knew that Danny was recalling all he could remember of Sam’s brothers from the rude way he pulled his hand back from the handshake. Jake didn’t appear to care at all, turning his gaze on Sam once more with a weak laugh.
“Have you been here this whole time?” Jake asked. “We read your note, of course, but forgive me for beginning to think the worst had happened when there was absolutely no trace of you anywhere. Mom started reading the news all the way up in Montgomery just in case there was mention of you.”
“No, uh, I’ve been traveling,” Sam explained, incapable of making eye contact. “Mostly stuck to the Southern states, but, yeah. We’re actually not staying, we’re headed to Danny's place in Florida right now.”
“Wow,” Jake remarked blankly, nodding thoughtfully. “Okay. We, huh?”
“Danny was kind enough to pick me up in Texas,” Sam clarified, nodding towards Danny. “We’ve stuck together since then.”
“Somebody had to keep him safe,” Danny said in a clipped voice, looking Jake up and down with an accusatory glare. Jake continued to not acknowledge Danny’s obvious distaste for him and pressed onwards. He gave another nod that turned into a disbelieving shake of the head.
“How in the world did you get to Texas with no ride? I have about a million questions, Sammy, forgive me for my impatience. I mean, for starters, you look…”
Jake gestured vaguely to Sam’s bare bones outfit composed of a maroon band tee more suited to Danny’s frame than his (which made sense, considering it was Danny’s), meaning it fell so low it almost entirely covered Sam’s very short shorts. It was a standard outfit for him now, but the last time Jake had seen Sam, he’d been dressed in something nearly identical to the outfit Jake wore, complete with the long tweed pants in the blistering heat. Sam’s hair, kept long to compliment his newfound appreciation for his androgynous features and to serve as something extra for Danny to pull when they were caught up in motel bedroom devotions, was pulled into low frizzy pigtails that Jake no doubt found bizarre.
 For the first time in a long time, Sam began to feel self conscious.
“Different?” Sam asked, putting a hand on his hip. “Is that cool with you?”
“I…of course, it’s just…definitely different,” Jake agreed, a hint of venom finally tinting his words. “I hoped maybe you’d gone off to, you know, spread the good word, but I can tell from your outf-”
“You wouldn’t have thought that if you’d actually read my note like you said you did. You know why I left, Jake.”
“Were things really so terrible?” Jake prodded, his condescending tone now entirely betraying his bright attitude. “So horribly bad that you just had to leave behind your entire family who has done nothing but love you, just by the way, and an entire church that you had responsibility in? I can’t think of a single person in Shady Grove that doesn’t pray for you each and every day. I can tell you didn’t have faith in us, Sam, but we had faith in you. Still do.”
“I wasn’t happy,” Sam hissed, tears finally stinging his eyes as he stepped forward and got in his brother’s face, still clinging to Danny’s arm as he waited for his chance to intervene. “Nobody listened to me! Or, yeah, maybe I didn’t speak up enough, but even if I did, you all would’ve just heard what you wanted to hear.”
“Come to dinner, Sammy,” Jake begged, putting a hand on Sam’s shoulder with a firm grip. “Come to my place. I won’t even tell Mom and Dad, but you’ve got to see Josh, at least. He talks about you in every single sermon, he-”
“You’re not listening,” Sam groaned defeatedly, flushing hot with frustration and humiliation. He felt Danny’s anxious eyes on him while his brother’s thick skull and saccharine words regressed Sam into a childlike tantrum. Jake shook his head as if it weren’t true, as if Sam was behaving completely out of line. That was something Sam really did hate about his brother sometimes; he could make him feel so stupid for nothing at all.
“Why can’t you ever admit that there are things about home that don’t work?” Sam raged on. “Just ‘cause they work for you doesn’t mean they work for me. I had to go, Jake. I, I have to go.”
“Let’s go,” Danny urged, his voice uncharacteristically cool and tense. “Ready when you are.”
“I’m ready,” Sam snarled, glaring at Jake one more time before turning on his heel and stomping to the side door. Jake followed with a frustrated huff through his nose, grabbing Sam’s wrist and yanking him so hard he stumbled.
“I love you, Sam,” Jake said firmly, passion flashing in his amber eyes. “That’s why I’m tough on you, okay? Mom and Dad love you. Josh loves you. Come home.” 
“No,” Sam barked, pulling his wrist away. “Get off, Jake, I’m fucking leaving.”
Jake stood and watched Sam climb into the passenger side and slam the door, pointedly staring through the windshield and ignoring his fuming brother as Danny hurriedly tossed the food and drink from his seat into the back. Jake smacked his palm against the door and won Sam’s attention again, who now saw that Jake’s furious expression had begun to devolve into tears.
“So, that’s it? That’s all you got to say?” Jake cried. “So high and mighty you can’t even say you love us anymore?”
“Of course I love you, stupid!” Sam yelled, grabbing an empty plastic water bottle out of the cup holder and smacking it on Jake’s head. “I just can’t love you here!”
Jake grabbed the water bottle out of Sam’s hand and tossed it right back at him, ducking when Sam fully threw it through the window. Jake crouched out of Sam’s reach as he pulled a pen out of his pocket and scribbled something urgently on one of his many disheveled pamphlets. Despite Sam’s flurry of smacking hands, Jake managed to shove it through the window and onto Sam’s lap. 
“That’s the address and that’s what time I’ll have dinner on the table,” Jake explained, his teary eyes flashing as he pointed at the pamphlet with vigor. “There will be two places set for you and your, your Danny, and I really hope to see you both!”
“I really hope you like disappointment!” Sam hollered, heart hammering like a jackrabbit as he and Jake launched into a new round of arguing.  
Unable to stand back and watch anymore, Danny rolled up Sam’s window for him and finally began to pull out of the gas station. Jake yelled something as they sped out of the lot, and Sam let out a frustrated scream in response. He was unable to look back at his brother, instead electing to fold at the waist and let out another muffled scream against his bare legs. 
Danny, frazzled from the sibling explosion that had just set off in front of his eyes, was honestly unsure on what the hell to do. He settled for a soothing hand on Sam’s back, rubbing calming circles and asking Sam to breathe and settle down in the most serene voice he could manage. Sam listened and managed to subdue his roaring need to shriek out his frustrations, but he stayed crumpled over with his head between his thighs. As always, Sam’s complete and utter silence was a million times worse to Danny, and he debated whether or not to ask him something just to get both their minds on a new track.
“So, you wanna go to that dinner, or…?”
Yeah, Danny regretted that the second it left his mouth. 
Sam’s silence persisted and Danny swallowed nervously, trying to appreciate the sparse scenery that surrounded the highway so that his brain had something else to do. 
-
5 entire minutes passed without Sam saying anything, which was probably the longest he had ever gone in the year Danny had traveled with him. He was never this quiet, not even in his sleep. But frankly, Danny couldn’t blame him. Danny’s heart broke for Sam, and he bit back regretful tears thinking of how he should’ve just stepped between them and pulled Sam into the truck before Jake got a chance to say anything at all. After another excruciating minute, he figured there wasn’t much use in spiraling, so Danny decided to pull over on the side of the empty road and turn off the truck.
“What can I do to help you, Sam?” Danny asked in a hushed voice, his hand returning to Sam’s back and tilting his head to try and catch a glimpse of Sam’s face.
Sam thought for a second, sniffling wetly before finally turning from the valley of his legs to miserably look up at Danny. Danny’s heart sank at the sight of his lashes heavy with tears and his nose and cheeks painted poppy red. 
“I don’t know,” Sam muttered, throat scratchy from exertion. “Take me out behind the barn and shoot me.”
“Sam,” Danny sighed at his dramatics, reaching over Sam’s head to click open the glove box and pull out a clean handkerchief. He presented it to Sam, who made no move to grab it, so he rested it on top of his head with a little smile. 
“Thanks,” Sam mumbled, still unmoving and sniffing pathetically. His gaze was blank and defeated and his face was still dotted with tears, which Danny lovingly swept away with a curled knuckle. 
“That was a lot,” Danny commented steadily, still trying to pry a productive conversation out of the ever stubborn Sam. “Definitely wouldn’t have picked that station if I had known your people would be anywhere near it.”
“He really shouldn’t have been,” Sam complained. “Shady Grove is, like, 10 miles out closer to the coast. But it’s not completely unheard of for him to go to the most random fucking places for his sidewalk preaching. Divine timing, I guess. Great.”
“I’m so sorry, baby,” Danny whispered, mirroring Sam’s posture as best he could to try and meet Sam’s eye. When he did, Sam’s bottom lip quivered and he clasped a hand over his face, letting out an exasperated groan that filled the entire cabin of the truck.
“I’m so sorry,” Sam apologized, his voice shaking with frustration. “You shouldn’t have had to see me like that. Fuck, he just makes me so crazy, it’s like I don’t even know what happens.”
“Don’t apologize,” Danny insisted, running his fingers along the soft hair at Sam’s temples to try and ground him. “He came at you pretty hard. I know he’s your brother and everything, but if you gave me the go ahead, I would’ve knocked him upside the head with the way he was talking to you.”
“I wish you had,” Sam grumbled. There was a sore pang when he said it, and Sam found himself falling quiet and staring into space again. “But, like…”
Danny had spent enough time with Sam to feel confident in his ability to read his mind, and from the mournful, longing glaze over Sam’s eyes, he made an educated guess as to where Sam’s head was at.
“But, like…you still kinda want to go to dinner tonight?” Danny asked, attempting to finish Sam’s sentence. 
Sam let out another theatrical groan and answered by gently banging his forehead against the pamphlet on his lap, which doubled as a nod in the affirmative. Despite the anxiety that the prospect of a dinner with Sam’s brothers stirred in Danny’s chest, he was happy to do whatever it took to get Sam through the night without trying to throw himself out of the truck. 
“Yeah, okay, we’ll do that,” Danny assured him, brushing his fingers against Sam’s flushed cheek. “And the second you say we need to go, we’ll go. Does that sound good?”
“Mmhm,” Sam hummed against the paper.
Danny watched Sam’s dejected body language for another minute before taking action again. With a quick jerk of the reclining lever, he laid his seat back and scooted until he was sitting in the backseat. After landing with a bounce on the leather, Danny shifted the beers and sandwiches once again while Sam sat up and gave him a quizzical look.
“What?” Sam asked simply, a confused smile very slowly seeping into his expression as Danny settled in the middle of the backseat and opened up his arms.
“Someone needs a hug,” Danny determined, beckoning Sam into his lap with a cheeky grin.
“You are so goddamn corny,” Sam whined. Despite his rolling eyes, he quickly scrambled out of his seat and clumsily landed in Danny’s embrace. Danny’s arms wrapped around him in an instant and Sam unraveled completely at the comfort, throwing his arms around Danny’s neck as he sank into his broad chest and nuzzled against Danny’s freckled shoulder. Danny held him tight and pressed kisses to the crown of Sam’s head as he felt the erratic cadence of Sam’s heart beating against his own begin to even out into a stable thrum.
“Feeling a little better?” Danny asked tentatively. Sam replied with a muffled hum against his skin and Danny laughed, smoothing the loose hairs that had escaped Sam’s pigtails and were waving wildly in the humidity. Sam pressed a kiss to his shoulder and Danny let out a happy hum of his own. Danny gave one of Sam’s pigtails a gentle tug to tilt his head back and met him halfway, closing his eyes with a smile that he pressed against Sam’s already puckered lips. While they got caught up in a lazy kiss, Danny carefully worked to slide the elastics from Sam’s hair and combed through his impressive tresses with his long fingers. Sam sighed into Danny’s mouth at the relaxing sensation, cupping Danny’s face and slipping his tongue into the equation while Danny indulged in a smug smile.
“I feel better,” Sam finally admitted, giggling when Danny mapped a trail of kisses from his jaw down his neck. “Much better, actually.”
“Yeah? You feel as good as you did last night?” Danny purred against his neck, grinning and bearing his teeth against his skin when Sam scoffed. Danny had found that this was another surefire way to keep Sam’s mind out of a dark place; tease the hell out of him. 
“Danny!” Sam squealed, batting his shoulders and squirming in his lap. “Shut up!”
“Oh, I’m sorry, who was the one talking about legs over shoulders no less than an hour ago?”
“I-”
“It was definitely you.”
“Hearsay!” Sam laughed. “Tell it to my lawyer.” 
When Danny lifted his head from his throat to smile at him, he could see the rosy glow had already returned to Sam’s face. Danny’s heart fluttered at the thought that he could be the person to do that to someone, much less someone as wholly deserving of joy as Sam.
“You wanna hear something funny?” Sam chuckled while Danny leaned back against the leather seat, one hand on Sam’s waist and the other still fussing with his hair.
“Hm?”
“We didn’t even get gas.”
Danny froze and blinked blankly. 
“...Fuck, you’re right!”
Sam’s raucous laugh filled the truck as Danny shifted and looked out the back window, staring longingly at the pump somewhere in the distance behind them despite it being entirely out of his sight.
“Damn. There goes my 15 bucks,” Danny grumbled. 
“You only put 15 bucks on the pump? Cheap bitch.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, do you have anything you’d like to contribute to the gas fund? Or would you like to keep dipping your sticky little fingers into it and spending it on cigarettes and cotton candy?”
“Absolutely,” Sam smiled triumphantly. “I mean, worse comes to worse, we can always stop in some seedy little town and get me a job working the pole. We’d have gas money for a year.”
“Fuck no,” Danny blurted. Sam cackled again when Danny bulged his eyes at the idea, his grip subconsciously tightening on his waist. “No, no, absolutely not.”
“Jealous?” Sam flirted, tapping the tip of Danny’s nose and winking. He rolled his hips as if he were straddling a stripper pole and Danny let out a suffocated groan at the sensation. Not allowing himself to dive into the salacious imagery Sam had conjured, Danny used his leverage on Sam’s hips to hold him still. 
“No, Sam, I’m super into the idea of you being half naked on stage in front of a bunch of podunk perverts,” Danny replied sarcastically, swatting his ass. “Of course I’m jealous, you little shit.”
“Well, you don’t have to be, ‘cause I’d never,” Sam cooed, clearly still delighted by Danny’s knee jerk reaction. “You know damn well I’m all yours.”
“Yeah, you are,” Danny hummed, chasing another kiss and mumbling against Sam’s lips. “And you know damn well you’re safe as long as you’re with me, right?”
“Since the day we met,” Sam confirmed, heart fluttering and racing as he recalled the first time he’d seen Danny. This was something he did almost every night to soothe himself to sleep, a practice that had replaced the psalm recitations he’d done for years after he steadily found them less and less effective at calming him. He’d picture Danny, nothing short of drop dead gorgeous in a ratty flannel and his combed out curls pulled into a ponytail, with his head tilted to the side as he regarded Sam and his pathetic little suitcase. Frozen in place, Sam’s thumb had stayed pointing up in the air for a beat too long as he assessed the amusing contrast of the gorgeous stranger in such a beat up hunk of junk. In the same way that something had urged Danny to drive through the thoroughfare in the first place, something had given Sam complete assurance that if he got into the truck with this total stranger, it would be the start of his life as opposed to the end. 
Despite the fact that they were far from being on speaking terms, Sam couldn’t help but thank God for it.
“Good,” Danny smiled. “Remember, the second you want out tonight, we’re outta there. You call the shots.”
“Don’t I always?”
Danny raised an eyebrow at Sam and Sam smiled with faux innocence, tucking a strand of hair behind Danny’s ear while Danny sighed fondly. Without the other knowing, both of them felt a sudden urge to tell the other one something. Something that had been on both of their minds for a long time. While it didn’t really need to be confirmed when the time they spent together spoke volumes about how they felt, it still had yet to be said. But Danny was worried Sam was a little too vulnerable at the moment to process the impact it might have, and Sam was worried Danny wouldn’t say it back, so they let the next few minutes pass with quiet chatting and kissing instead. Not that they could complain about that.
“What time is it?” Danny eventually asked, answering his own question by looking over Sam’s shoulder at the radio’s clock. “4:30ish? How long do you reckon it’ll take to get to Jake’s?”
“Only like 20 minutes if we backtrack and take some shortcuts,” Sam explained. “I’ll be our fearless navigator, of course.”
“That’ll be a first,” Danny muttered, which earned him a light slap on the arm. “Well, shit, what should we do for an hour? Anything fun to do in glorious Baldwin county, Mr. Navigator?”
Sam stared off into space for a moment, seemingly deep in thought as his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pushed out into a focused pout. However, when Sam’s eyes eventually fell on the space between their bodies and his eyebrow arched suggestively, Danny realized that he had fallen for an act. 
“Unbelievable,” Danny groaned as Sam smiled flirtatiously and pawed at his belt. “I thought maybe you knew some roadside attractions nearby we could go to. I should’ve known better.”
“I mean, we’re already back here,” Sam purred, sliding a hand up the front of Danny’s muscle tee. “And no one’s driven by since we pulled over.”
“Unbelievable,” Danny repeated, shaking his head slightly but obliging entirely when Sam’s lips found his and his hands made quick work of pulling off Danny’s shirt. 
This reckless nerve and seeming insatiability was one of many side effects of Sam’s newfound confidence. Ever since that inciting night at the motel where Sam had stayed under Danny until the sun came up and writhed nonstop from nothing more than kisses and hands on his hips, he had become hopelessly addicted to Danny’s touch. It was fully Danny’s fault for indulging him as often as he did, but he really had tried to take it as slow as he possibly could. Danny knew that Sam had no prior experience and very little knowledge of the body when it came to the pleasure it could provide, and he had wanted to give him a low stakes, enjoyable education.
However, this had become increasingly more difficult when he found Sam crawling into his lap time and time again with professedly innocent questions, all of which were whispered into his ear with hot breath that sent chills down his spine. Sam had insisted on hands-on demonstrations and begged so sweetly, which made it nearly impossible for Danny to continue the patient pace he had planned for him. This eventually cultivated in a “celebration” their first night in Los Angeles where Danny had caved entirely and awarded Sam his sacrament. He’d crossed the line between the divine and the Earth, called Sam his little lamb, and awoke the next morning with Sam’s head on his chest and his virginity (however conceptual that may be) locked up safe in the parts of his mind reserved for the most sacred sentiments. Deep down, Danny knew he’d be trying in vain for the rest of his days trying to replicate the ecstasy of truly feeling Sam for the first time. Fingernails dug so deep in his biceps he’d emerged with a single crescent moon scar, Sam’s hips bucking to accommodate Danny’s stuttering push into him, a pounding fist on the wall from outraged neighbors being drowned out from the rattle of the bedposts…that was a high Danny was going to chase to no avail. But he was more than happy to try. 
Plus, how could he ever say no to Sam? Maybe someday he’d regret letting Sam get whatever he wanted, but from the way Sam looked unbuttoning his jeans with his rosy bottom lip tucked triumphantly between his teeth, Danny was pretty sure regret was the last thing he was feeling. 
They were in for a hell of a night, so why not get as close to heaven before then? 
~~
Taglist: @holdingup-fallingsky @milojames16 @spark-my-nature
30 notes · View notes