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somekindofpoet · 1 year

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La Petite Mort - La Fin

Summary: We get closure

Word Count: 3.7K

Warnings: +18 NSFW, smut, language

A/N: Okay so this is the end of the story line for LPM. I will continue to write one shots and headcanons, though don't freak out! Also, there was a drabble I'll link here that happened between Part V and this one.

LPM Part I LPM Part II LPM Part III LPM Part IV LPM Part V Drabble

The drive to Big Bend was like living in a dream. Between the motel stop and the scenic viewpoint stop, you’re beginning to wonder if Lorraine actually wants to get to where you’re going. You know she’s excited about her newfound freedom, and you are too, but a serious conversation needs to be had.

You glance over at her and watch as she holds her hand out the window, catching the wind and then cutting through it like a surfboard. She looks content, grounded. You figure she should be; she just came in the backseat of your truck less than an hour ago. But you still need to make sure she’s happy. That she’s sure she made the right choice. For now, you choose to live in ignorant bliss, enjoy the drive and start the talk later.

The gas gauge catches your attention, riding low over the E.

“We gotta stop for gas, you seen any signs for a pump station?”

She turns toward you, nodding, “Saw a sign a few miles back. There should be a few stations comin up.”

You smile as she reaches for you, taking your right hand and holding it between hers. She scoots closer to you, tracing her fingers up your forearm, giving you goosebumps. Her head rests against the seat, and you can feel her watching you, can see the small smile on her lips through the corner of your eye.

“You’re gonna have to stop doin that, if you ever want to get out of this truck,” you say, your voice hoarse.

She smirks, “I’m not doin anything, I just want to be close to you is all.”

You lift your arm, inviting her to slide into the middle seat. When she does, you let your arm rest across her shoulders, pulling her in close to you. You kiss the top of her head, your eyes not leaving the road. She hums, lets her head rest on your chest.

It’s so easy to find moments like this with her. Small pockets that exist outside of the world, no influence or judgment. Just you two. But it’s also easy for those moments to shatter when reality comes crashing in, loud and screaming.

The gas station is a small one, a family operation from the looks of it. It has two gas pumps that look like they’ve seen better days and a store tucked under the awning. You pull the truck and the trailer under the sunshade and park it.

“I’ll get us the gas, run inside and grab some snacks, will ya?”

Lorraine nods and slides out of the truck, stretching her arms over her head when her feet hit the ground. Your eyes follow her shirt when it rides up, and you laugh to yourself, shaking your head. You pump the gas and watch her walk into the store, her shorts even more distracting now than they were in the truck.

“Oh buddy, you’ve got it bad,” you say to yourself, turning back to the truck.

When the gas pump clicks, you return the hose and make your way into the station to pay. Lorraine has an armful of snacks, and you gesture with your head to the counter. She drops her loot there as you grab a case of beer and carry it over. The tv on the counter is blaring a church sermon, and the attendant is watching it with obligated interest.

You slide the goods over and clear your throat, “Filled up on pump two.”

The woman behind the counter narrows her eyes, making it clear you are inconveniencing her by asking her to do her job. She slides the snacks and beer over with one hand, taking her time. She tells you your total, and you hand a bill over to her, trying not to take note of her attitude toward you.

As you’re packing the snacks into a brown paper bag, two men walk into the store. They’re rugged cowboy types, and it makes the hair on the back of your neck stand straight up. You’d been around their type your whole life, working ranches and rodeos and everything in between. They can be trouble, or they can be extremely cordial. Unfortunately for you, these two are the trouble type.

They make a show of looking you up and down, letting their eyes take their time as they travel over you. Lorraine comes to your side, and both men raise their eyebrows at her. You flex your jaw, trying to find an easy way out of what you already know is going to be an uneasy interaction.

One of the cowboys whistles around the tobacco in his lip, the other laughs.

“Ladies,” he says, “what’s got you so far out in the country?”

You hand Lorraine the bag of food and hoist the case of beer under your arm.

“Work,” you answer, moving toward the door.

The man on the tv starts yelling about sexual deviance. The cowboy with the dip in his mouth leans in the doorframe, blocking your exit. He takes his hat off his head, smirking at you.

“What kind of work?”

You watch him, aware of the other man making his way down one of the aisles to your right. Lorraine inches closer to your side.

“Ranchin,” you say, keeping it as short as possible.

The man is still blocking the door, so you stop, look up at him. He grins down at you, his teeth yellow with flecks of tobacco stuck in his gums.

“I don’t know of any lady ranchers round here,” he says, his eyes leaving you and moving on to Lorraine. “George, you know of any lady ranchers?”

The man at the back of the store laughs, “No I can’t say I do, Nate.”

Nate tilts his head, “So if you’re not ranchin, what’re you doin?”

“Did you miss the trailer with the horses in it on your way in?” Lorraine mumbles, and you close your eyes, inhaling deeply.

Nate laughs, “Okay, spitfire! What’s your name? You ladies look like you could use some company.”

You try to casually step in front of her, hiding her with your body as much as you can. “We need to get goin, you gentlemen have a nice day.”

You step toward the door, but he doesn’t move. You stare each other down for what feels like an eternity, sizing each other up. He’s tall, but he’s skinny. You could scrap with him if you needed to, but his friend would make it nearly impossible for you to win. Your revolver is in the truck, too far to be much use now. Plus, these two have guns of their own; there’s no doubt about that.

The tv on the counter goes quiet, and a woman’s voice breaks the tension.

“Leave them girls alone, Nate, or your momma will tan your hide.” The gas station clerk finally turns herself away from the tv, glaring daggers at Nate.

He evaluates his choices, and his fear of his mother wins out. He leaves the door frame and pushes past you, grumbling as he goes, “I’s just bein friendly, Marge. No need to threaten anyone.”

As soon as he’s out of the way, you hustle out of the store, making sure Lorraine is on your heels. You jump in the truck, and as soon as she’s in, you’re driving off.

“God, I fucking hate Texas,” you growl, your eyes flicking to the side view mirrors to see if anyone followed.

Lorraine sighs, resting her head against the window, “So let’s go. Let’s get out of here for good.”

“We can’t leave your parent's ranch, Raine. They need us there.”

“They really don’t, plus we could visit.”

“Do we tell them about us?”

She bites at her lip, thinking it over, “I think they already know, truth be told. But we probably should tell them.”

“I suppose we should figure out what we are before we go tellin them about it, though.”

The statement is bait, a question for Lorraine to decide on. You think you’re sly, dropping it out there the way you had, but when you turn your head toward her, Lorraine’s expression is amused.

“Is that you, askin what we are then y/n?”

You shrug, trying to appear nonchalant. You can feel your face heating up, embarrassed that she saw through your veiled question.

“I know it’s probably not the best time to ask. You just left your boyfriend yesterday.”

“I haven’t been in love with RJ for a long time. It just took being with you for me to accept it.”

You nod, gulp. You don’t take your eyes off the road.

“I meant what I said to him, you know.” She reaches out, places her hand on your leg.

“What’s that?” You say, your voice cracking.

“I love you.”

Your breath gets caught in your throat, your heart racing. You can feel your hands want to tremble and squeeze the steering wheel tighter.

“Can you give me one hour to get us where we’re goin, set up camp, and say that to me again so I can respond appropriately?”

She giggles, her thumb sweeping over your leg, “Of course.”

Lorraine keeps her hands to herself, for the most part, for the rest of the drive. You think about the conversation to come, the interaction with the cowboys at the gas station, and everything that happened with RJ. It all brews in your mind, mixing and melding into a feeling of uneasiness in your belly. There’s a strong undercurrent of happiness tied in with it, pulling you back to Lorraine every time you freak out.

The camp is isolated, large enough for your truck, trailer, tents, and horses. The daylight is quickly fading, so after the camp is set up, you let CB and Pearl out to wander the grounds. You drag a stack of hay from the trailer for them, but they both beeline to a patch of green grass at the edge of camp.

You busy yourself with getting a fire going, listening to Lorraine hum as she finishes getting the tent set up. Just being out here with her is enough for you, but a small voice in your head is already screaming for more. An apartment that has two toothbrushes in it. Closets with clothes that are mostly not yours. A life intertwined even more than it already is. You know it’s a lot to ask for.

“You’re thinkin' real hard on somethin,” Lorraine says, standing over you.

You turn up and grin at her, “Just how damn good I am at makin' fire.”

She smiles at you, her expression telling you she doesn’t believe that for a minute. She turns away from you and unrolls a blanket next to the now raging fire, and sits delicately. She pats the spot next to her.

“Let’s talk.”

Your stomach flips. You sit in the spot she’d invited you to, feeling a lot like a dog on a leash.

“Right, okay.”

“So, I know it’s not the best look in the world, breaking up with RJ and running off with you,”

“It’s a look I’m growing pretty fond of,” you joke, smiling at her.

She shakes her head, but you can see the smile she’s fighting, “I just want to make sure we’re clear. Getting out of one relationship to jump into another is-“

“So we’re in a relationship?” You interrupt her.

“Oh, um, are we not?” She twists her fingers, anxiety washing over her.

You scramble to make the situation more clear, taking one of her hands in yours.

“I was hoping so, but I wasn’t sure what you wanted. If you need time, I can give you time.”

She shakes her head, “I’ve had enough time. I love you, y/n. I think I have for longer than I realized.”

You feel giddy, lightheaded when you finally say, “I love you too, Raine. But I can’t promise an easy life. I can’t promise the suburbs or a family. What kind of life would that be?”

She leans over, taking your face in her hands, “It would be a life with you.”

The fire crackles as she kisses you, soft and sweet, her thumbs brushing over your cheekbones. Her lips are slow, deliberate. She lies back, pulling you with her, your hands planted on either side of her body.

Cicadas and crickets chirp in the dark around you, the air cool and still. The oak trees circling your campsite tower over you, rustling in the occasional breeze. Lorraine’s body envelops you, warm, welcoming. You’ve never felt more at home than you do in her arms. You figure you should thank her for it, now and every day in between.

You sit up, pulling your shirt off, and she follows suit. You unbutton your pants, taking your time, each movement intentional. Having sex with her now feels heavier, in a good way. It carries more meaning than it ever has before.

You’re both naked under the stars when you lean back over her, your hands touching as much skin as they can. You kiss her lips, then move to her jaw, down her neck. She can feel the gravity of the moment, her hands gentle and her breathing soft. Your hands run up her ribs, and your mouth works your way down to her chest. You lick her nipple, bite it gently and suck it into your mouth when she gasps.

She pulls you back to her lips, her legs hooking around your waist and anchoring you in place. Your tongue slides across her lips, and you rock into her, your body applying pressure between her legs. She moans through her nose, her tongue running over yours, her hands around your jaw.

You descend to her neck again, silently coaxing her grip around your waist to loosen. She gets the message and drops her legs from your hips, allowing you to kiss down her chest again. You kiss her stomach, avoiding the ticklish spot on her side that will make her laugh. The skin below her belly button is soft and sensitive; you take some time there teasing her. She lifts her hips, her eyes dark as she looks down at you. Her hand winds its way into your hair, and she bites her lip as you kiss her where she wants it most.

She’s not used to you teasing, and for some reason, of all the times to start, you choose now to begin. You lick softly at her clit, not hard enough to be satisfying, just a ghost of pressure. Enough to make her moan and tighten her grip on your hair. You sink lower and tease at her entrance, tasting her on your tongue. She’s better than anything you’ve ever had, ever will have, and you know it. So you savor it, close your eyes and enjoy yourself.

You turn your head to kiss her thigh, and she whines. You look up at her to find her face full of want, almost to the point of tears.

“Please,” she whispers, making your heart race.

You consider toying with her, but you want it as bad as she does at this point. You run your tongue from the inside of her thigh all the way down to her slick folds. Done with teasing her, you wrap your lips around her clit and suck, earning the most delicious noises of approval from her. You alternate licking and sucking until she’s arching into your mouth, the muscles in the stomach rippling and flexing from the exertion. You lick her with a flat tongue while she cums, making it last even longer until she’s shivering and trying to stop you with her legs around your head.

She sighs, and you slowly kiss your way up her body, taking extra time on the ascent. You forgot about the ticklish spot, and you accidentally make her laugh, which in turn makes your heart feel like it’s going to beat out of your chest.

Your fingers are already inside of her when your mouth meets hers, the gasp of pleasure coming from her making your eyes roll back. You fuck her slow, each movement intentional in its goal. Every stroke playing the chords of her body, never out of tune. She doesn’t let you any lower than her throat, wanting to keep pulling you up to kiss you after she moans your name.

She lasts longer than usual, hanging on to every move you make, her hands all over you. She doesn’t want to be done, you can tell, and it makes you smile.

“You have me for as long as you want me,” you tell her, “I love you.”

Like clockwork, she cums on your fingers, dripping onto the blanket and around your wrist. She holds your head to her chest as she gasps for air, her whole body shaking and rolling. You pull back, wanting to watch her ride her orgasm, see the shape her mouth takes when it’s open like this, the color on her cheeks, the sweat on her brow. When she’s done, she pulls you down, squeezing you around your shoulders. When you try to pull away, she squeezes you tighter, shaking her head.

“You said as long as I want,” her voice is low and quiet, her breathing beginning to shallow.

You chuckle into her chest, kiss her skin, resolve to become part of the earth there if she wishes it.

——

Today is the day. The day you tell the Days about your intentions with Lorraine. A day with the Days, for your Day. You can do this.

You look at yourself in the mirror, your apartment bathroom cramped but comfortable with Lorraine’s things making their migration. As if on cue, her hands slide around your waist, her head ducking under your arm.

“Are you freaking out?” She asks you.

“No,” you lie.

She grins, “Lie.”

You nod, “A big one.”

She looks at you in the mirror, a reassuring smile on her face, “You know you’re going to be fine. They love you. Plus, I’m pretty sure they know.”

Your eyes dart around the mirror, looking for anything to distract you, “I know. I know. I can do this.”

“We can do this,” she says, squeezing your waist.

You sweat through your button-up shirt on the drive over. Lorraine is at ease; she doesn’t seem worried in the slightest. You are terrified. Scared Mr. Day will throw you on your ass and tell you to never come back to his ranch again. Horrified at the thought of Mrs. Day looking disappointed, heartbroken because of you.

They're on the couch in the living room when you get there. Lorraine called ahead to let them know you had something important to talk about so they were prepared. Mrs. Day sets a tall glass of sweet tea in front of you as you sit on the loveseat across from them. You clear your throat, and pull on the collar of your shirt. Lorraine sits close to you, closer than she usually would in front of her parents. If they notice, they don't mention it.

You pick up the glass of sweet tea and lift it, nodding your head at Mrs. Day, “Tha-thank you,” you say and gulp from the cup.

You wince; there's a hefty amount of liquor in the tea. She smiles at you and says, “Thought you might need it.”

You frown at her, confused as to why she would think you'd need liquor at noon. You gulp from the glass again. Mr. Day just watches you, his face impassive.

“So, I’ve asked to talk to you both today because….” you clear your throat again, wipe your sweaty hands on your pants, “well, because I have something important to tell you.”

Mrs. Day nods encouragingly, Mr. Day smiles under his mustache, his eyes soft.

“See, the thing is, I…well��I uhm,”

Lorraine rubs your back, nodding at you. The intimacy in front of her parents is lost on you; you’re too far into your panic to notice.

“I’m in love with your daughter. And I would like for her to live with me.” You say, your words tumbling out of your lips.

Mrs. Day covers her mouth with her hands, but it's not horror she's hiding. It's a laugh. Mr. Day stands, extends his hand. You stand and take it.

“We know, kid. We’re happy for you both, sincerely. Just take care of her.” His gruff voice is as soft as its ever been, his eyes sparkling.

Your mouth drops open, and you fall back onto the couch when he releases your hand. You close your mouth, open it to speak, close it again. Take another gulp of the tea. Lorraine giggles at your side.

“I…how? How?” You stammer.

Mrs. Day drops her hand, her smile still stretching her cheeks, “Oh, honey. You know, when you were about nine, you told me you loved Rainey. You were very serious about it. And you had the same look today. I’ve always assumed it would end up this way.”

“Just took our ray of sunshine a bit longer to come around. Forced me to put up with that boy for years.” Mr. Day grumbles.

Mrs. Day smacks his shoulder with the back of his hand as Lorraine yelps out, “Hey!”

You laugh, fully agreeing with him. Lorraine pulls your arm over her shoulder, and it takes you a moment to ease the tension that automatically shoots up your spine in front of her parents. You relax, smile at the Days.

“I do need you to do me one favor though, y/n, if you could.” Mr. Day says, leaning back on the couch, his leg crossed over his knee.

“Whats that sir?”

“Stop havin sex in my barn. It spooks the animals, and if I nearly walk in on you one more time, I may have to shoot you in the ass.”

Lorraine cringes and hides her face in your arm, and you gulp back a laugh. Mrs. Day lets hers rip, and you can feel Lorraine giggle into your side.

“Yes sir, I promise.” You say, your fingers crossed behind your back.

#lpm #lorraine day #jenna ortega x reader #lorraine day x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x y/n

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leanteam43 · 2 months

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Johnnie and reader first date hcs

Museum of Death

(Johnnie Guilbert Headcannons)

summary : how your first date with johnnie would go!!

pronouns : they/them | GN!reader!

warnings : swearing !!

a/n's : not me actually keeping up with requests - 🌿 | loooooooove a graham cracker - 🎸 | ohhhh noooo i need 2 think - 🐇

sooo,

i was watching an old jake video today and heard that he and tara's first date was at the museum of death!!

so imagine johnnie nervously asking jake where to take you

and jakes like "bro idk i took tara to the museum of death"

and johnnie's like "okay perfect"

and jakes like "NONO-"

he has to be picked up by you since he can't drive

which he's super embarrassed about

"sorry-" "no it's okay! looove having a passenger princess!" "what??"

anyway,

so thats how y'all end up in line for tickets

bc it was your job to buy them ahead of time but beauty takes time and also maybe it slipped your mind because you were nervous

but you refused to admit that

"the website was down!" "oh no that sucks :/" 'haha...yeah...it does..." *office camera stare™️*

when you finally get to purchasing your tickets

ofc he attempts making a big show about paying

but he drops his card, then picks it up

then drops it again, then tries laughing it off

you genuinely find it charming though

watching him with the biggest boba eyes as he finally pays

exploring time!!

he's so nervous the entire time

is it the right time to hold your hand?? is it not?? do you even WANT to hold his hand?? IS HIS HAND SWEATY??

little does he know,

you're equally as nervous.

is it the right time to hold his hand?? is it not?? does HE even want to hold your hand?? ARE YOUR HANDS SWEATY??

but you grab onto his arm after a particularly off-putting exhibit and this man

MELLLLTS

CAAAN YOU HEAAR THE CHURCH BELLS RIIIIIIINNGGGG 🎶🎶

he never thought he would like someone just holding onto his arm but he like audibly frowns when you let go

follows you around like a lost puppy until you grab his arm/hand again

complimenting each others outfits multiple times

"i like your necklaces!!" "i like yours!"

etc etc

getting food afterwards and starring at his tattoos

if YOOOUR tatted up too,

then you two definitely compare your favorite and least favorite tattoo

if you areeen't tatted up,

then you trace around them gently and ask how much each one hurt

maybe its bc it's making him blush, maybe it's bc you actually wanna know

thats a secret you'll never tell

stalling to clean up your food bc you both don't want the night to end :C /pos

jokingly telling him "i don't kiss on the first date" and watching him get RED.

maybe you give him a kiss on the cheek goodbye,

(if you wear makeup, maybe your lipstick leaves a kiss mark on his cheek and MAAYBE jake teases him for it)

either way,

let's just say there will DEFFO be a second date

lean team OUT.

#johnnie and jake #johnnie guilbert fluff #johnnie guilbert edit #johnnie guilbert x reader #johnnie guilbert #tara yummy #jake webber #jake webber x you #jake webber fluff #jake webber x reader #jake and johnnie #johnnie guilbert headcannons #johnnie guilbert x y/n #johnnie guilbert /pos #johnnie guilbert x you #johnnie guilbert <3

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catholic-character-tournament · 11 months

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Round 1 - Side B

Propaganda below ⬇️

Matt

Matt's faith in the show is really important and well explored; one of the first scenes of the show is Matt going to confession (or, well, talking to his priest since he's not really confessing at that point). Matt struggles a lot with what he's supposed to do; everyone's telling him to kill the villain and he kinda wants to, but he literally says: "I know my soul is damned if I take his life". He struggles with his faith and goes with his doubts to his priest, and it's beautiful—also when he finally gets a costume for his vigilanteing he chooses to dress as the devil, lol. (His priest tells him that nothing makes people run to Church faster than the feeling of having the devil on their heels.)

a lot of the show is about how he justifies his vigilante actions with his faith, and whether he's doing the right thing in trying to help people or just using it as an outlet for his anger. the literal first scene of the show has him in a confession booth talking to his priest (who is a really interesting character too). this is not the scene I was talking about but it's such an excellent scene with matt talking to his priest: https://youtu.be/XHZ3NbEIDdw

canonically catholic but dresses like a demon to be quirky

honestly i dont wanna type too much but i feel that matt is a great example of someone who battles with his faith because he rarely loses his faith but rather fights with why he was made the way he was and put through what he was. He believes himself to have the devil inside him but believes that God put him there

ok in the comics barring the most current run matt has Mostly been a non-practicing Catholic that very rarely actually does any catholic Activities but ends up falling back into the Mindset and very occasionally dramatically taking confession (ex. in that one issue where he takes confession, basically tells the father that he is uniquely terrible and is thinking about violently murdering someone and when the father says "you can be forgiven" hes like "AUGFH-- NO!!!!!!!!!!" and runs out) when he's gone through some shit. and i love that its so relatable

hello its me cct organizer. i have to come clean, i made this tournament because i need matt to win something. i dont think hell win the sadboy and he lost the ginger tournament and >:( hes my favoritest guy ever. Also @ who said he has religious trauma is wrong and i will fight u about it (nicely) on my main @usaigi

This guy so catholic he spends an ungodly amount of time just chilling in the church. And goes there whenever there is a moral conundrum about killing people being Bad even though it would solve a lot of problems and stop said people from killing other people. This happens every other episode. Matt is the Catholic Guilt Guy. There's actually a lot of catholic stuff in the show as a whole. Just a compilation would be like three whole episodes long.

Hes great hes catholic enough to not outrught murder people but not catholic enough to not fuck before marriage hes a bisexual disaster at all times hes besties with a priest might i add hes great hes my special little guy

his catholicism is a huge piece of his characterisation he was raised by nuns in a catholic orphanage, the first scene we ever see him (as an adult and not a flashback) is him going to confession, he is good friend with his priest and has regular debates with him, etc also in s3 he has a huge crisis of faith after he lost A Lot where he stops believing for a while and it's linked to his identity crisis where he actually wants to kill another person (a hard line he previously chose never to cross) and wants to be only daredevil and not matt murdock, when he is both and needs both to exist also when he was a kid his grandmother used to say "watch out for the murdock boys, they've got the devil in them" and it created a surprising lot of his issues

So he's both catholic in the comics and the show but he's More Catholic in the show. Like, raised in a catholic orphanage by nuns (ONE OF WHICH IS HIS *MOTHER*), second scene in the show has him in a confession box kind. Matt Murdock goes out and gets the shit beaten out of him nightly and also beats the shit out of other people and purposefully leaned into devil iconography as his theme. When his nurse friend says, he takes a lot of punishment without one complaint he says "That part's the Catholicism." It is a Core Aspect of his character (at least in the show). He makes me insane. Also the same chemicals that blinded him created the teenage mutant ninja turtles and everyone should know that.

They went to confession to a priest who they had saved as their costumed counterpart and the guy recognized them by the voice, proving that it's possible and everyone else is just dumb

he takes "i wanna fight god" to new and incredibly violent levels, while also being a sweetheart and a goofball

Actually strictly WILL NOT kill criminals. Goes wayyy out of his way to avoid it. Fights with the Punisher about it. Goes to confession booth after nightly vigilante excursions. Feels so much guilt. "How have you been holding up?" "Like a good Caltholic boy" "that bad huh" - actual conversation with his priest

So Daredevil struggles with his mission as a crime fighter because killing criminals goes against his faith. He makes it a point to not kill criminals, believing that even bad people deserve a second chance. This philosophy puts him at odds against The Punisher, who is a relentless killer. As a Catholic myself, while I love the concept of a morally conflicted superhero, I think the worldbuilding around Daredevil is lacking. If he struggles with violence and killing, why doesn't he pray to warrior saints like Saint Michael, Saint Ignatius of Loyola (a former knight), or Saint Joan of Arc? Why isn't there a community of other Catholics he can turn to for guidance, considering New York City has a sizeable population of Catholics? And why are the churches he goes to always empty? Doesn't he know that the Catholic Church supports the just war theory? I think that would have made his burden more bearable.

He goes to church and confesses to punching people and says "imma do it again can i apologize in advance" and the father dude says "no you're meant to stop now" and Matt says "no" and they do this everyday. I'm not remembering it properly but this is a canon interaction i swear

HELLO HI YES I LOVE HIM AND WILL INFOR DUMP ok so. he is a vigalantty and he got named daredevil and he is an orphan and after the age of 12 was raised in an orphanage at a Catholic church and his therapist is his priest via confession abd. also his mother is a nun he has a whole mental breakdown over god and called Job a pussy because he liked god until he got better and liked god again he said "I'm dearedrvil and not even god can stop that now" and he's so cool

matt is a freakish little babygirl who was raised by nuns and definitely has religious trauma. i hate him so much (affectionately)

he’s literally fucking insane about it i don’t know what to say here. he thinks he’s chosen by god to go on some sort of holy quest to save hell’s kitchen. joan of arc ass.

i already know hes in by default j just wanted to give him a personal shout out i love this angsty catholic dweeb

how practicing he is depends on the run, but in my favorite he is quite literally confessing to a member of the last extant order millitant who happens to be a priest at a church in hells kitchen.

i love him for having the funniest version of a trope i usually hate (person gets into confession booth and asks forgiveness not for what they've done, but for what they're about to do). usually this trope just looks silly to me bc like. the priest would just say "i can't do that" and you would have to either awkwardly explain yourself or just Leave. it's funny when matt does it because fr. lantom is probably like "what are you gonna do???" and matt's like "lol. lmao. 😊 hehehe." anyway we love this angry catholic man who dresses up like the devil to beat people up in hell's kitchen

Harrowhark

I'm pretty sure you've already got plenty of submissions for her so I'll just say she was raised in what is basically a cult (technically a nunnery but let's be real) dedicated to keeping the body of the thing that will kill God behind the rock. One of their prayers is actually "I pray the rock is never rolled away". Harrow is extremely devout as penance for her earlier heretical actions in the tomb as a child (spoiler!) so the Catholic guilt really comes through

imagine being a catholic nun and you meet god, but it turns out he’s a twitch streamer from new zealand who became god because everything got a little bit out of hand. and just before you met him you gave yourself a diy grief-fuelled lobotomy with the help of your best frenemy. imagine how insane you’d be. now multiply that insanity by nine. that’s the fictional love of my life right there.

she meets god. she’s not inspired

she’s number one practitioner of space Catholicism. The locked tomb is chock full of Christian (catholic) imagery themes metaphors etc. just look at her she’s got a bone rosary

They're Catholicism with extra bones. Everyone is a nun. They have what is basically a rosary made from knuckle bones. They technically worship the same God as everyone else, but they're waaaay more focused on The Body in the Tomb (Mary) and we get a moment where we find out that while everyone else prays the equivilent of The Lords Prayer, they're doing the equivilent of Hail Mary. And they paint their faces with skulls.

She thinks leaving dry bread in a drawer is taking care of someone. She's in love with a 10,000 year old corpse (the same one they worship). She spent ALL NIGHT digging with her bare hands to make sure a field had bones every 5 feet so she could fight her girlfriend - I mean, greatest enemy. Spoiler territory: She's been puppeting her parents corpses since she was 8 years old. Instead of grieving her dead girlfriend, she gives herself a lobotomy. She makes soup with bone in it so she can use the bone IN THEIR STOMACH to try and kill them.

The author is/was Catholic and the entire series had heavy Catholic overtones. https://www.tor.com/2020/08/19/gideon-the-ninth-young-pope-and-the-new-pope-are-building-a-queer-catholic-speculative-fiction-canon/ A good breakdown of how it's Catholic

#matt murdock #daredevil #marvel #Harrowhark Nonagesimus #The Locked Tomb #cct polls #tumblr tournament #tumblr bracket #tumblr polls

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finisnihil · 1 month

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Hey guys so a while back I went insane and made a list of things we know about Luocha and the coffin entity that took an hour of scrounging every second of screen time and references to his person

These lists were made as of 2.1.

So what we know about the Coffin Entity TM:

•Is being delivered to the Xianzhou despite the fact nobody on the Xianzhou stores their dead the way this person is stored. Also, Lucoha hasn’t “delivered” it yet he still is carting it around despite being on the Xianzhou. It also seems whoever he’s delivering it to is of the Ten Lords Commission and he's aiming to go to the Xianzhou Xuling with it

•They met only once and it was during some sort of conflict Luocha became involved in

•The coffin is being delivered on somebody else’s behalf, possibly the deceased’s or another third party's

•The coffin entity is not considered a friend, lover, or relative

•Luocha proposed a deal of some kind that he’s still waiting to see the entity uphold

•The entity isn’t quite dead as it is temperamental and jabs Luocha with thorny vines when he upsets it. The coffin also has an emphasis on being silent as though whatever is in it can talk back and chooses not to

•Luocha considers their relationship a business one

•Luocha says he and the entity underestimated each other, particularly when Luocha proposed the deal

•He states he and the entity both wanted to use each other

And now, what we know about Luocha:

•He’s a wandering merchant who is registered with the IPC and the Xianzhou Yuque

•He seems to come from an aristocratic or wealthy background based on his clothes and speech and sword (An Épée which is used in fencing, a sport typically practiced by European royalty and the upper class since the 14th Century as that’s when the oldest fencing records seem to hail from)

•He’s considered an Abomination of the Abundance and he confirms his power stems from Yaoshi

•He has no home according to him

•He can heal both organic and inorganic life forms

•He’s looking into immortality of some kind which is interesting because he also seems to have a negative view of immortality and even notes Mara-struck being used as "sacrifices to the Abundance". He also says yearning for immortality as a short-life species is normal and to avoid doing so would be like killing an Aeon.

•He wants to kill Yaoshi

•He’s working with Jingliu to kill Yaoshi and I think Jingliu is the “other business” he had to attend to

•He isn’t the one who snuck on the Stellaron despite turning himself in for doing so. He says he delivered it without knowing its significance but once again he can can sense Stellarons so that doesn't hold much water.

•He doesn’t know VA (Void Archives)

•He he’s wary of Jing Yuan and tries to avoid to being watched by him

•He “changes his mask” so to speak to fit in different situations which matches the fact he goes by the alias Luocha when on the Xianzhou

•His clothes are that of his home world and he wears them “to remind him of the path he must keep treading”

•On his home planet he was involved with a church/church-based society

•His city was destroyed and he was perhaps the only survivor? Possibly related to the Knight of Purity Palace set?

•Many Xianzhou natives say he works and speaks like an older Xianzhou native

•He has a very similar design as Yaoshi

•Before he arrived on the Xianzhou he had a diviner tell him “not to be concerned with the destination, but to seize [his] chances and travel with the current to reap the greatest harvest”

•Luocha is an alias, not his real name, and he only goes by Luocha on the Xianzhou and his real name is noted to be a "tongue-twister" by himself and Jing Yuan

•He’s always wanted to visit the Herta Space Station

•According to Jing Yuan, he "isn't in any hurry to conduct business" and in Jingliu's quest he says Luocha didn't conduct any trade during his stay and his departure lined up with the calamities taking place

•He doesn't like seeing flowers wither but does later note "maybe it's not so bad after all"

•Jingliu says he's "just like her" in that he has a "hole" in his heart that no matter what he does he cannot fill it and just exhausts himself in the effort to do so

•He sells "uncommon trinkets"

•He considers friendship precious

•He typically doesn't get eye bags from staying up

•He's renting a like AirBNB type residence to stay in instead of the Petrichor Inn where he normally stays. He notes it "helps him forget his identity as a traveling merchant"

•One of his hobbies is observing and experiencing the Xianzhou natives' way of life

•He considers himself not great as opening conversations

•He seems to like wine as he left us some when he departed from the Express

•The flower that is his motif is a white lily which represents rebirth

•Jing Yuan admitted he outsmarted him

•Luocha has a weird motif in his related achievements of dancing (Coffin Dancer and Wardance: Épée Trial)

•He broke into the Shackling Prison but seemingly did nothing. Luocha states that in doing so he found the Luofu didn't have what he was looking for

•Jing Yuan mentions he's infamous for being involved in matters at locations called Eternity Fortress and Shroudveil Starzone which I can't find mention of anywhere, so I don't know these locations

•Dahao tells us that upon being arrested Luocha was charged with identity fraud and smuggling dangerous bio-merchandise among other crimes, which Dahao points out is weird and vague.

•He considers the Clous Knight's devotion to Lan as making them "closed-minded". He says there's other factions other than those of Lan who want Yaoshi dead and that they must "look to the source for the solution" to severing Yaoshi's curse

•He also has an understanding of traditional medicine and will write prescriptions for people

•He likes to do little kind things for people with no expectation of being recognized or praised for it

•He constantly stresses he's a noncombatant and while he can hold his own in small-scale conflicts he seems to rely on more experienced fighters in more serious ones and this is reflected in his sword which an Épée, a kind of heavy fencing sword

•He’s interested in and holds a great deal of respect for Elias Salas which is interesting because Elias Salas is notable for not wanting to extend his lifespan despite being able to and died at 103

I probably missed some stuff but I scrounged all this from lightcones, voice lines, character stories, relic backstories, quests, messages, trailers, etc. If I missed anything let me know! Some of these are obviously more relevant than others but if I missed anything let me know and I'll add it to the list!

I wish I could add the screenshots of where I got everything but posts have picture limits so if anyone's curious where I found certain information feel free to ask and I'll reply with where I found it.

Have a great day, mwah!

#honkai star rail #Luocha #Finis Analyzes #Am I insane for this? Probably #Doc was so tired of me #She will never know peace fr

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lilhub · 1 month

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So. What's up with the duplicate statues in Eden?

If you've played Sky: Children of the Light and gone through The Ascent, you may have noticed these statues:

And you'll know that the Vault has the same exact statues:

Now the question we're asking here is why.

Of course, I have a theory in regards to it that ties into a couple of other theories, but it's gonna be long and probably a little complicated, so buckle up.

TL;DR will be at the bottom of the post for a simpler(and less all over the place) explanation!

Now, I'm going to start at the beginning with something that may seem completely unrelated:

Take a look at the top of this broken building in the Battlefield.

Does it look familiar? It should.

It looks like the vault masks.

That's odd though, isn't it? The Vault Elder is, well, the Vault Elder. They belong in the Vault.

To that I say: what if they weren't always there?

What if that building used to be their temple?

Almost every other Elder has their own building that serves as their temple and little else; why would the Vault Elder be any different? They're certainly just as important as every other Elder, so why would they be singled out?

Some more evidence for the broken building being an Elder's temple?

Look here, in The Seed's spirit memory:

The spirit was a medic that treated and aided soldiers on the battlefield, and this displays them in a Medic's tent. Where? In the broken building.

Other than it being the arguably safest structure aside from the Vault, there's...no real reason for it to be here of all places. They could have had it anywhere else; this is in the thick of the fighting, after all, the entire map is called the Battlefield for a reason. But there's a reason it was here.

Why?

Well, the Elder's temples are sacred. They're holy places, not to be trifled with, even in the midst of a war, they're like churches. And what was guaranteed if you took shelter in a church?

Sanctuary.

Unfortunately, this doesn't guarantee its outside will be particularly safe from conflict, especially toward the end of the war. Survival began to matter more than walls, I suspect, and it's clear from the Lookout Scout's memory sequence that even then, this place was broken down; potentially from Dark Dragons, potentially from the Ancestors. Unfortunately, we currently have no way of knowing for sure.

On the topic of placements and symbolism in the Battlefield map, though: there's also all of this imagery of the King leading up to the Wasteland Elder's temple.

Let me suggest to you the following as an answer to why:

Eden was not always the primary residence of the King.

Before you grab your torches and pitchforks, hear me out. The Eden Castle was not always there, and this is explicitly shown in the Aurora concert during Warrior, but also the fourth quest in Season of Passage:

No castle.

Now, what does this mean for the King? Well, logically they should have them residing in the otherwise safest place in the Kingdom—like, perhaps, a Vault.

Now we're getting somewhere.

Let's go back to the statues.

Many theorize that they're graves, due to the fact that there's one in each temple and when you sit, you're taken to the respective cutscenes that feature the Elders in their limbos. I disagree.

I think they were communication lines. Every Elder will need to contact one another at some point, and other than the Windpaths, there's really no shortcuts through the realms; thus, the statues function as telephones in a home network, if you will. If one person picks up the line while others are having a conversation, they can listen in as well.

Who needs to have a way to contact every single Elder?

The King.

A ruler needs to be able to conveniently contact the others that help them run a kingdom, especially at a moment's notice, and phones don't exactly exist in the Kingdom. Thusly following the path of logic here, wherever the King is, there should be each statue for each corresponding Elder.

Once the castle became the primary residence of the King, now that the Vault Elder was no longer close by, there was a statue added to the arrangement; this also explains why it's just sat in the middle of them instead of up with the rest.

There is one other thing, though.

What's up with the Wasteland Elder?

After all, if the Vault was the primary residence of the King, and the statues support that, then why and how does the Wasteland Elder come to inhabit that building?

I have a few thoughts on that too.

Let's take a look at the Wasteland Elder, for starters.

They look like a soldier. Which is no surprise, really, seeing as they were in charge of what is now the Wasteland, and the war that seems to have primarily taken place there.

I have another thought though.

The King needs a guard, or more accurately, the Prince does. Sure, there is plenty of power when you are the King, but before that they was a Prince, and there are always precautions that should be taken with the future ruler of your Kingdom.

From what little we see of their character, the Wasteland Elder is protective. Defensive. Willing to do anything to safeguard what lay beyond that gate. They had to learn from somewhere. That instinct has to come from somewhere, because they clearly have worked themselves to the point of absolute exhaustion in their efforts to safeguard that gate.

To this, I ask you: what better protection is there for a Prince than a Star?

Of course, once the Prince becomes a King, and Eden is more than adequate as a safe spot for them, this Star needs to be put somewhere else.

And the Wasteland still needs a protector. After all, the Dark Dragons at this point must be becoming a problem, and Darkstone production is likely growing larger and larger by the day; the people need someone to keep them safe and reassure them that all will be okay.

Who better than a Star that already knows everything about protection and defense? Who has the necessary experience? Who has likely had to manage other guards that helped protect the Prince?

TL;DR: Before the fall of the kingdom, while the King was still a Prince, before the Castle was built the Prince resided in the Vault. And before the conflict in the Wasteland, the Vault Elder's temple was the broken building we now see in the Battlefield. This explains both the King imagery leading up to (what is now)the Wasteland Temple(which also doubles as the entrance to the Vault) and the symbol atop the broken building that resembles the Vault masks.

During the period of time before the Prince became the King, the Wasteland Elder was assigned as their protector, explaining their intense need to defend the Vault 'til their last breath. Afterward, once the Prince becomes King, they are reassigned as the Guardian of the Wasteland, charged with overseeing its people and the Darkstone production taking place there.

Because of the fact that the King resided in the Vault and the Eden Castle, there are versions of each Elder's statue in both places due to them potentially being communication lines instead of graves. Or, at least, they used to be communication lines and were turned into graves for the Fallen Stars after the Fall of the Kingdom. This also explains why each statue takes us to that specific Elder's limbo space; they still, technically, function for their intended purpose.

Of course, this is all just one huge theory made up of a bunch of smaller theories and doesn't have the greatest evidence but. Alas! I am prone to overthinking details in the Funny Light Game.

#sky children of the light #sky cotl theory #sky theory #skyblr #is this my brain doing the pepe silva meme? SOLID MAYBE #but alas I cannot help it. I see Odd Things and desperately search for Explanations #of course this very well could be the devs reusing assets for. whatever reason. I have no clue why #but for now it wORKS #sky children of the light theory

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thesherrinfordfacility · 8 months

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i did not break my own heart last night thinking about the missing 1941 scene and have it sat in my brain all of today spinning around like a fucking microwave in order to not make you lot suffer with me. and i somehow feel i may be right about this so buckle up and lets break it down.

so yes, following on from this post, i think that there is going to be a third 1941 scene. twice is a coincidence, three times is a pattern. it's been literally set up like that by even bringing back 1941 into s2 in the first place. but we're missing a crucial detail because it does not - at all, really - explain how they went from evading danger from hell and having a cosy candlelit bottle of red to celebrate, to the bastard 1967 scene. we all know this, this is nothing new.

the symbolism of nightingales is probably going to cast a shadow on this. these two excellent analyses look at the meaning of nightingales in the context of R&J, and the relation that the song has to this point in time, respectively. in summary; it's a song that should be around in 1941 courtesy of vera lynn and others, and the nightingale itself carries the meaning of love being hidden and forbidden by way of it singing under the cover of darkness, before being replaced with reality and soberness - represented by the lark. the Dinner of '41 scene is set in the bookshop at night; this would parallel - that they are safe and concealed, and truths can be shared, but the writing is on the wall that stepping outside would be to shatter the illusion, so to speak. it might be that the song itself gets miracled up onto the record player, or a wireless lying about - whatever. note: i don't think they'll dance though, not given crowley in ep5, "you don't dance"... but then again, if there ISNT a kiss in s3-1941, an aborted dance seems like the next best option... the cowardly one, but i'll take it

this would also track with aziraphale having his epiphany after the church in s1-1941; specifically, in my eyes, that he doesn't necessarily just realise he loves crowley, but that crowley by way of saving his books loves him too. this is only supported by the whole of the s2-1941 scene of trusting in each other as the only way to pull off the trick, the subterfuge. this is then, again, also important in the context of what i think happens in s3-1941.

i do think aziraphale is going to bring the books up again, and what crowley did, because it needs to be addressed. the Nazis/furfur confrontation has scared him, regardless of whether he saved them both, more than he realised. its put things into startling perspective. i think he's going to bring up the books, and actually question crowley a little more as to why he did it. the repeated use of, and subsequent weird reaction crowley has to, the use of the term "friend" in s2-1941 would indicate that this is going to be a focal point in s3-1941. are they just friends? is crowley disappointed that aziraphale is still referring to him as that, after what he did? 'saving' aziraphale in the church, and then saving his books? or is aziraphale just saying 'friends' so hesitantly in both instances because he's not completely sure where crowley stands?

we as the audience know the answer to this, but they obviously do not. if one of the crucial themes of s3 is going to be resolving miscommunication, it makes sense for this scene to be the first, and last, time they communicate properly... at least, until they sort out the issues that culminated in the Final Fifteen.

so let's say they start getting into a very roundabout way of discussing what they mean to each other. there will need to be the sobering, ice-water-over-the-head realisation however, as s2-1941 demonstrated, that they cannot belong to each other, because they manifestly belong to heaven and hell respectively. crowley is still being spied on, and it firmly places aziraphale in their line of sight too. it's going to bring up the holy water discussion; why crowley asked for it - to protect himself, whether by taking out demons or taking out himself, as long as it means he - and most importantly, aziraphale - does not get hurt.

they actively confess that they want to be together, in a way that is more than they are now. aziraphale wants to, but says that they can't, because it's too dangerous. crowley suggests that no one ever has to know, they can hide it (there, in the bookshop, whilst the nightingale is singing), and even if they are found out, they can run. "hell won't just be angry; they'll destroy you..." // "no one ever has to know".

aziraphale doesn't want to have to hide it, doesn't want a halfway measure- is still thinking in black and white. crowley however thinks that something is better than nothing - thinking in the grey. but ultimately, as long as they are still shackled, they cannot do what they want, and it puts the other in danger. "surely the great thing about being a demon is that you can do whatever you want" // "you sound jealous, angel...". instead, aziraphale promises that the day that they are no longer tied to heaven or hell, they can be together; crowley scoffs, thinking that that will never happen, so they will never happen, "you're so clever! how can someone as clever as you be so stupid?!"

the reason they can't right now is because they could be caught. they would have to skulk around, be ashamed, feel guilty - and aziraphale is tired of feeling like that. because only having crowley in secret would hurt more. not being able hold his hand, or dance with him, or kiss him, unless it was in the bookshop. if hell were to find out, crowley would be killed, true, but if heaven were to find out, aziraphale could be cast out. and if crowley survived hell long enough to see aziraphale fall - he'd never forgive himself, and in a way, i don't think he'd ever forgive aziraphale either.

it's tearing them to pieces, but they have to stop whatever is happening between them in its tracks. it's acknowledged, but it's not named. this gives them plausible deniability; if they called it 'love', it would be undeniable. so, aziraphale asks for crowley to go; asks him to leave before they do something they can't come back from. crowley doesn't listen - crowds him, gets in close, and aziraphale is powerless to stop it. doesn't want to stop it. he's selfish by nature, a selfless kind of selfishness, but he wants this with all his being. and then - "this is too fast, crowley, please don't..." // "im sorry, angel. please... please, forgive me". aziraphale never gets to answer, to grant him that, because boom - the actual first kiss.

so. now that i've had to make you read that, i'm going in for the kill. let's look at everything that follows - and look at how the above might recontextualise it.

1967: the offer of the picnic, the Ritz? ie. the literal lyrics of berkeley square? aziraphale has caved in the interest of giving crowley a weapon to use if all else fails, to protect him, but that's as far as he's willing to progress. everything else is still too painful; he's on the brink of tears, promising that one day they'll be able to do what they want, to be open about how they feel, but not yet. they can't. crowley tries to push, "ill give you a lift, anywhere you want to go..." (him offering again to run away? a second chance to leg it?), and aziraphale reminding him that they can't, he can't... don't make him go too fast again, it's not fair. it also sets up perfectly that aziraphale and crowley don't speak for the next 40 or so years (as far as we're aware) until armageddon is threatened.

bandstand: mostly this is still centred around the apocalypse contextually, but i think with the above hypothetical scene in mind (the offer to hide, to run away, to be together), aziraphale is sent back to remembering their mutual confession that they've nonverbally agreed not to bring up, because it's not safe, and it's too painful. they've skirted around it, and returned instead to a tentative kind of friendship at the beginning of s1, but they're still not safe to address why seeing each other again, being so close to each other and not being able to touch is so painful. anyway - aziraphale refuses their side, but the above scene would re-view this as 'our side can't exist yet, you know this! you know why it can't!', and crowley leaves, again after pushing a bit more than aziraphale can stand.

alpha centauri: basically a facsimile of the above; same steps, same dance. but this time, crowley harks back to aziraphale's foolish (?) hope that they will be together, without having to run away, when the day comes that they don't have to answer to heaven or hell. and aziraphale smacks him right back, echoing crowley asking for aziraphale's forgiveness in kissing him, "i forgive you." crowley knows exactly what aziraphale is getting at, there - he's answering crowley's whispered plea to forgive him for pushing, for trying to force him, for acting in desperation. but he's also not answering that - he's skirting around that very thing, forgiving him like a knife would, slicing back at crowley for not only insulting aziraphale on something that is likely a genuine insecurity of his, but also putting him back in his place, for their safeties, because them being together just cannot happen. not yet.

and "please forgive me" in 1941 might seem out of character, but idk if it is; crowley knows that doing what he's about to do will hurt aziraphale, aziraphale has (hypothetically) told him as much, but he needs to do it - and seeks not benevolence or forgiveness as crowley-the-demon, but actually seems aziraphale's forgiveness, as crowley-the-person. the echo would certainly match the tone given here, in multiple ways:

the ritz: i mean, what is there to say? yes, their song is literally playing on the piano, and heralds the shift in their being out from heaven and hell, the day has finally come where they can - again, going by this entirely hypothetical scene that ive concocted - actually be together as they want to. and the nightingale literally singing outside, but as @shoemakerobstetrician beautifully pointed out, god remarks that it's covered up by traffic. so actually, if we again refer back to R&J interpretation of the nightingale, the love is still hidden, still somewhat under wraps, but can only just about be heard over the noise of the streets outside. the prohibition of them being together, of loving each other, is dwindling. and one day, it'll stop singing altogether. that day is coming, it will come, and then they can do what they please. so whilst the ritz scene may well be a mark of them starting the next chapter, it's slow to take hold, there's still hesitancy - which absolutely makes sense when we see that they are still very tentative with each other come the beginning of s2.

s2 general: aziraphale realises their freedom first; he gets excited by the dance, and being able to show his love to crowley, completely and without barriers, in the form of the ball - what he has read to be the best way to do so. he touches crowley more. he shares his bookshop with him, gifts it to crowley as being his as well as aziraphale's, this safe space that is so wholly theirs that crowley has the power to grant entry. the same with the bentley - aziraphale sees it as theirs, and crowley silently agrees, granting aziraphale the same power. crowley is comfortable in the bookshop to remove his glasses, has a place for them. the bookshop becomes tidier, more minimalist, to make crowley more comfortable in it (it is more cluttered in s1, im certain of it). it might just be the grading between s1 and s2, and lack of clutter, but the yellow is more prominent - his literal favourite colour. everything just screams that aziraphale is ready to make good on his promise from s3-1941.

crowley... for once, is the one not quite catching up. not realising the little dates here and there are literally poses them as a couple (although yes, the coffee shop one is to prep crowley for the goob jumpscare), that aziraphale has granted him the power to grant entry. aziraphale literally asking, practically begging, crowley to help him hide goob. the mf colour of the walls. the colour of the bentley. it's not until nina outright asks him if they are together that he realises how careless they've been - but wait, is it careless if they have nothing to be careful of? well, arguably crowley does, hell are still hanging around him like a bad smell... but this is what he wanted! this is what he was pushing aziraphale for! so, does he risk it? he's not sure, but he's certainly realising that aziraphale is ready, if nothing else. and by the time the ladies stage their little intervention, crowley finally realises that the confession he started in 1941 now can be fully aired, can come out into the open.

the Feral Domestic: *fingers at temples* i know i have been fairly vocal about my interpretation of this scene, and frankly - until we get this hypothetical s3-1941 scene, i stand by it - but let's say this speculation about the scene is true, and re-examine the key points in the Final Fifteen that would completely turn on their heads in terms of meaning:

literally, harking back full circle to what aziraphale promised in 1967 as what they would do when they could fully acknowledge their love, and what they did as soon as - on paper - they were free at the end of s1. this is however before he's spoken to by nina and maggie, so maybe this is what crowley was planning in terms of confessing fully to aziraphale, but after their meddling he realised that yes, they need to actually talk about it again. he doesn't understand why they're telling him what they are - because he's existed so long in gestures and gifts and not talking, literally dismissed it now as a viable option, that it doesn't even occur to him to try talking again.

which is why he does something brave, and tries to tell aziraphale instead (say it out loud, make it undeniable, put a name to it, "i love you", something that i think was crowley's actual intention before aziraphale interrupts him) when he comes back to the shop... he's so nervous, because it's vulnerable, and because the last time he did, they ended up hiding for 50-ish years.

next up:

now, im reluctant to think that aziraphale lied in the Feral Domestic, because i do think the key thing at work is his paramount need to do the Right Thing (ie. make a difference in heaven). whilst metatron obviously manipulates him, im not entirely convinced that aziraphale wholly sees through it. i don't think he knew that metatron was up to something, i think the shaking off of this naivety is going to be part of his s3 character development. but this sentence - again, especially in context of the hypothetical s3-1941 scene - must on some level frighten him. especially if you take this meta into account, aziraphale must realise at least that they were never safe, even when they were denying what they were and how they felt, it didn't make a bit of difference. now, metatron could have just been talking about the arrangement, not referring to any romantic elements of any kind, but the threat of it? no wonder he pushes for crowley to join him in heaven; he could keep crowley safe there. they could be together, and heaven - in his eyes - would be able to say a word against it.

then:

the fear sets in; crowley was too late in telling him, acknowledging that they could be together, realising what aziraphale was saying to him without words, and now heaven has come for him. plonked them right back where they were in s2-1941, but perversely mirrored; instead of hell coming for crowley with violence, heaven came for aziraphale with kindness. crowley doesn't have a magic trick he can just do on the fly, perform it perfectly when the need for it is greatest, and has to cling to the hope that aziraphale still sees them as the barrier to them, the reason they can't be together. and in true miscommunication fashion, i think aziraphale does see it, but what metatron said lingers, and in addition to being inside the institution, changing it from the inside out, in order to make a difference... he knows that whilst it's exactly the opposite of what they wanted, he needs to make them safe. better to be inside the tent pissing out, than outside the tent pissing in.

but aziraphale doesn't tell crowley what metatron said, because instead he either deliberately tries to deny the implications of it (cognitive dissonance king behaviour), or he doesn't want to panic crowley and is trying to convey to crowley that he can't speak his concerns, not when the metatron could still be watching, and instead just needs crowley to trust him, take his hand, and join him in heaven where they can be safe. doesn't tell crowley that heaven hasn't captured him in shackles again, but he's willingly held out his wrists because it's the safest thing for him, and them, to do.

so it's one thing to look at what crowley's saying, but aziraphale's reaction? before, i just found it to be out of confusion, him not really understanding what crowley was saying, but tbh i never paid much attention to it (david stole this bit of the scene - not to put down my beloved michael here, but he did). and i know others have remarked here that aziraphale is flitting his eyes to the window and looks scared and stressed, but i don't completely think that its because he's scared that metatron is watching (although, now, i will accept with the rug thing and hypothetical s3-1941 in context it is definitely playing a part), but also because he's just starting to recognise that this is a repeat of the s3-1941 scene, "this sounds familiar, we've been here before... oh, we've definitely been here before... oh shit. i still can't do this, not unless he comes with me. we still can't be together, not in the way crowley wants. the way he's trying again, now, to ask for."

but the issue is: crowley wants to run away together. again. and i totally get why, but once again, going back to 1941: it's exactly the solution that will not work. they cannot run from this. heaven, and hell, will find them. they will come for them. it wasn't an option in 1941, it wasn't an option in 2019, and it isn't an option in 2023. aziraphale begins shaking his head - crowley is confessing, but a) aziraphale doesn't run from things, it isnt in his character, and b) it's just putting them back where they started - something that they have to hide. it defeats the purpose.

and this? yeah, im sure on neither side it was meant the way im about to interpret it, more of an unspoken thing, idk... but if the bookshop is indeed their place of safety, and is where they (as far as crowley sees it) can speak and keep their love, it makes sense that crowley is telling aziraphale he needs to stay. the bookshop can be interpreted so many ways - it represents their relationship, or that crowley means him, himself - but what if we looked at it like crowley is trying now to covet it, because it's protecting them? what if he's saying, "well, if you won't run away with me, we can't be free to have our relationship as we wanted it, not unless we stay here... heaven has come for you, has come for us, and whilst they're here we can't move. so what other option is left remain in this bookshop? to never leave it, and what we have inside it, because there's no other option in which we can be together if you won't run with me."

and what if aziraphale is saying, "no, i have an option, and that's to be together in heaven! they won't be able to do anything, not when im in the position the metatron has offered me, that can be our new bookshop... nothing lasts forever - this bookshop won't last forever, it's compromised, and we can't continue to secret away what we feel inside it, it's time to move forward."

welcome to the line that breaks my heart the most in this whole goddamn scene - and tbh i think is fairly self-explanatory in the hypothetical s3-1941 context. that aziraphale is trying, once again, to tell crowley that he is offering himself, letting them be an 'us', as crowley says shortly after - that before he couldnt do it, and these arent the best of circumstances, but they can finally do it and not have to hide in the bookshop. but crowley reminds him, "hey, i was in your shoes, remember. i wanted us to be together then, and you told me you couldn't, didn't want a halfway measure - well, now i don't either. and this will be a halfway measure, because i don't think us being together in heaven is going to go the way you hope it will. i understand a whole lot better than you do." in any case, it would explain why aziraphale choses this moment to look so devastated. this is what he promised crowley, but now crowley - to his mind, in the things left Unsaid - doesn't want it... him.

and then... back to the nightingales. they're not singing at all, not even under the rumble of traffic, like they were at the Ritz. they're completely absent - day has broken, the things unspoken have now been said, and there's no denying them anymore. from crowley's point of view, there was nothing to stop them this time, but if aziraphale won't run with him, then they have to go separate ways, because there is no other way. aziraphale knows there's the possibility that the only place they could actually be safe is heaven itself, that the bookshop was never as safe as they hoped it had been, but that crowley might actually come to see that. but the fact that crowley is resigned to just... returning to 'reality', to a world that's still turning where they aren't together? despite everything they've just said? "we could've been... us." well, that hurts.

and then... the kiss. now. im still of the mind that the kiss was an Issue. i definitely think it was meant out of love and desperation, and out of possibly being a goodbye. this would echo the hypothetical s3-1941 kiss... but it was hurtful. it was abrupt, and harsh, and not at all romantic (imo). it was possessive, and almost cruel. i do think still it was a last ditch attempt, a temptation, to get aziraphale to change his mind, before crowley leaves the shop and returns to the 'real world'. but it hurts aziraphale in many different ways - but with 1941 put in there, too? crowley is just testing his resolve, trying to push him, come around to giving in. crowley asked him to forgive him the last time he kissed aziraphale, and this time - this time, aziraphale is giving him what he asked for.

#did i just do a whole ass meta based off of a completely hypothetical non-existent hc of the third part of 1941?#yes - yes i did #but the Implications would not leave my brain #make of this what you will if you even got to the end and if you did frankly congratulations #good omens

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ghouljams · 11 months

Note

Speakinggggg about the nun: say she slips up and kisses soap, does he has a meltdown because he thinks he’s responsible for corrupting a woman of the cloth? Or is super devious about it even before he knows she’s not a real sister

I'm telling you right now, Soap has a corruption kink here. He is devious about it, he doesn't know she's a fake nun but he also doesn't really care lol this got long, as Soap and his nun always get:

In order to keep up appearances you and your roommates help out at the church sometimes. It’s not too bad, the reverend is nice. Besides that they’re one of your customers so you don’t feel too pious helping them. Really does wonders for your nerves being in a house of God and feeling like you might burst into flames at any second. It would suck to die in your full nun kit, it’d be a horrible ghost outfit.

Soap has never been one for religion, seems like a crock of shit to be beholden to some man in the sky. What’s God ever done for him? If there was a God he knows a couple people that should’ve been struck down long ago and were currently living very well. This was where Goose said you’d be though, so he was stomaching the church grounds.

“Soap?” One of your sisters catches him, fuck what is her name? “What are you doing here?” Steamin’ hell is it that obvious he isn’t a church man?

“Lookin’ to confess some things, don’t suppose you can help?” He flashes her a smile, watching her lips draw in a thin line.

"We… don't really do that, but you can talk to Moon, she's good at keeping secrets." She says, going back to what she’d been doing.

“And where might she be?”

Johnny finds you doing inventory in the church’s pantry, neatly cataloguing canned goods and recent donations. You hardly look up from your clipboard when he enters, figuring it’s one of your roommates. You turn to ask what they need just as his hand fixes itself to the shelf behind you.

“Johnny? What’re you doing here?” You blink up at him, he seems to be thinking something through. You raise a brow while you wait for his brain to kick into gear.

“I’ve come to confess,” He says finally. You smile, trying not to laugh.

“And they sent you to me,” You shake your head at his short nod, “Alright let’s hear it. Tell me your sins so you may be absolved.” You mean it as a joke, but he steps closer and the air changes. Something small and shivery in the back of your mind takes in how big, and warm, and close he is, how dangerous it is to be in close quarters with this man in particular.

"Forgive me sister for I have sinned," he says, voice low and seductive as he boxes you in, "I've been having impure thoughts." Your eyes dart to his jeans, you snap them back to his face as quick as you can.

"That's… fine, I'm- well I mean not fine in like a catholic sense," you press closer against the shelf as he leans more heavily on his arm, "Are you catholic Johnny?"

"Not even a speck," he says, tipping his head to the side, you mirror the motion swayed by the way his eyes land on your lips.

"That's your first sin I think."

"Won't be my last."

“You’re- this is-” Your brain throws up half cooked protests against having him this close. He hums, waiting for you to say something with a smile.

“Hail Marys,” He says, voice so thick and low that you have to press your legs together under your skirt, “you’re supposed to give me a number.”

“I’m-” Your eyes dart past him to the door.

“You, hen,” His fingers touch your jaw, directing your attention back to him, “just you.”

“I am-” You can feel your breathing, the way your chest rises and falls, you wet your lips with your tongue, “-a pious woman.” Are you reminding him or yourself? His smile seems to grow.

“And I’m a devoted man.”

“To the devil maybe,” Your voice whispers, letting him tip your head back, his lips ghosting over yours.

“Maybe.” He tells you, and kisses you before you can respond.

You’ve been kissed before, you’re not a real nun after all, but not like this. Not this slow and exploratory drag of his lips against yours that makes your eyes flutter closed. Indulgent, your brain purrs, he’s indulging in you in a way only a sinner can. With all the haste of molasses as his nose nudges against yours, coaxes you to open for him as his tongue swipes against your palette. He groans and your stomach drops hot in your core. You drop your clipboard in favor of pressing your hands against his firm stomach, fingers shivering against the hard muscle. Impure thoughts indeed. He pulls back and you blink your eyes open to see him smiling down at you. His thumb swiping at the wetness on your lower lip.

“Isn’t that pretty,” He tells you, you swallow, “Thank you, Hen.”

He leaves you almost as quickly as he found you, and you are absolutely fucked. Bad, very, very, bad for business.

#let's do some kink tags first I think #corruption kink #religion kink #incorrect confessional etiquette #I'm not catholic which is great because Soap and his nun aren't either #we're all flying blind #using a stand in nickname for the nun so lemme know what y'all think #cowboy!Soap #menace of a man he is really just doing the damn thing #soap modern warfare #johnny soap mactavish #soap mctavish #cod x reader #soap x reader #soap x you #john soap mactavish #johnny mactavish

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atinylittlepain · 9 months

Text

I'm On Fire

no outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader

Hungry Hearts masterlist

warnings | 18+ cursing, smut right out of the starting blocks, young joel is a goddamn menace, a little angst as well

wordcount | 8.5K

a/n | thank you all for reading this series, i really loved writing this part and i hope y'all enjoy - as always, drop me a line and tell me what you think. oh also, obviously you should listen to I'm On Fire while reading this. But, if I could offer a non-Bruce song (blasphemy, I know) for your listening-while-reading pleasure, it would be Fruits of My Labor by Lucinda Williams, it is so goddamn Cherry-coded. Okay, that's all, thank you for reading.

(gif by @santigarcia)

......................................

“Hmm.”

“Cher.” His lips against the bare wing of her shoulder blade, his fingers curling around the sheet to pull it down over her ass, his palm stopping on the curve before slipping up and along the slope of her spine, all the way to the nape of her neck.

“Hmm?” His lips right at the shell of her ear, the whole heat of him draped over her prone body. She can already feel his cock smearing pearled pleasure against her low back.

“We gotta get up.” A kiss to the side of her neck, just under her jaw. She still doesn’t move, keeping her nose buried in his pillow and breathing so deeply it’s just him in her lungs. Sweat and salt and him.

“No we don’t.” His nose skates down the center of her spine, the loss of his presence making her shiver under the weak breeze of the box fan in his window, still morning, still cool before the heat starts to creep in.

“It’s Sunday.” He coaxes her legs apart, completely limp in his hands, so he can settle between them, his palms finding her hips and hitching them up in the air ever so slightly.

“Amen.” His laugh washes over her, still wet, still tender from last night, now spread open for him.

“We gotta get to church.” A kiss to where her thigh meets the crease of her ass, one on each side before his palms spread her open even more, her whole body clenching in anticipation.

“I’m not going.” She tries to keep her voice steady when he noses through her swollen cunt, lips finding her clit in a soft suckle, but her words come out a bit breathless anyways, her face still pressed into his pillow.

“No? Not going?” He speaks with his mouth still so close that she can feel the low thrum of it in her pelvis, resisting the urge to buck her hips back to seek out more of that burn.

“Nope.” He does it again, letting his jaw go slack and putting the open heat of his mouth flat over her cunt, tongue dragging heavy and straight through her. She wonders if he can taste himself, still slipping out of her, still a bit sore, so she blindly reaches back, finding the crown of his head and tugging. A low mumble, need it gentle, need it slow, because we weren’t either of those things last night.

“We have to go, Cherry. People will talk.” His palm wide over her ass, he uses his thumb to keep her spread for him, dipping his tongue into her clenching hole, kissing it better. Always aching, always dripping, always so blisteringly ready for him. She starts to hum into his pillow.

“Don’t care.” She cries out when he slips two fingers inside her, too much, tears with how too much it is, though she still rocks back against his hand when he slowly pumps deeper.

“Tough girl doesn’t care, huh?” She’s starting to sweat, spit pooling under her tongue, open mouthed and dripping onto his pillow in a silent whine when he crooks his fingers against that spot, that spot he likes to tease and toy with so much, that spot that would’ve had her leg kicking out behind her if his other hand didn’t have a firm grip around her thigh to keep her on her knees, her hips up high and quivering.

“None of them matter.” He works her until she’s starting to twitch with it, broken little sounds in the back of her throat that turn into a dejected sigh when he pulls away, leaving his hand on the small of her back, the slick coating his fingers cooling and sticking against her skin.

“That right?” Not gone for long, she preens when she feels the thick heat of his cock slip through her aching cunt, her spine stretching out long and languid, a perfect arc that he curls over as he splits her open. It hurts, good hurt, stretching hurt, her eyes scrunching shut, so sensitive still. He shushes her groans, pressing his lips to her temple, coaxing her face to turn and seek out his in a kiss that tastes like herself, her eyes still closed tight.

“Uh-huh.” He doesn’t really pull out, just ruts his hips deeper and deeper against the curve of her ass and it’s so much, so early, all she can do is take it, slack and simmering at the same time.

“Do I matter, Cher?” One hand pressed against her belly, palm splayed out over softness, the other wrapping around her torso, palming the weight of her breast as he hoists her up against his chest, limbless and keening in his grip, her head falling back on his shoulder.

“So much.” He holds her, suspended, strung and taut in his hands as he fucks up into her, his nose dragging along the line of her jaw.

“So much?” It’s all she can do to reach her hand back and grip his ass, that tight clench of muscle as he grinds his hips against hers. His hand that had been clutching her breast drags up to rest over the front of her throat, thumb and forefinger framing her jaw to tilt her head toward him, a silent ask that she obliges, her eyes finally slipping open to look at him.

“The most.” Good morning, what a sight. His hair sticking up all which ways, sleep still heavy and dark around his eyes, his lips parted and shiny with her and the quick pink of his tongue. His fingers pinch at her jaw, opening her up for him to lick into her mouth. He mouths at her like he’s trying to swallow up the high little cries he keeps punching out of her with the way he’s keeping her so full of him, throbbing and dripping down her thighs. And it still hurts, still fucked out, raw and red and reeling, but this is all she wants lately, to have him so deep that she knows she’ll be thinking about him for the rest of the day.

“Just want one, Cher. Then we gotta– fuck– gotta get to church because we-we’re both going to hell at this rate.” That makes her laugh into his mouth, Joel cursing low when her cunt clenches around him, a brutal drag.

“You and me, baby.” She knows exactly what she’s doing by saying that, that little word that seems to make his brain fry. She saves it, rations it, only letting it slip up her throat on spare occasions so he doesn’t get too accustomed to it, so he still reacts like he does now, his eyes scrunching shut, pained pleasure, and his hips snapping against her ass a little harder. His hand slips a little lower from where it was splayed against her stomach, finding her clit in a greedy swirl. And it isn’t long before her spine is stringing so tight that the stick of her skin pulls away from his chest, a sharp gasp of his name before everything turns liquid.

Even as he continues to fuck into her, he’s gentle, so gentle guiding her down in her slump back onto her stomach, holding her hips up with his hands curled around her waist. His warmth starts to spread inside her with a quiet groan, hips close and jolting against her, his face pressed between her shoulder blades before he slackens on top of her entirely. She likes the weight of him, the whole body press down into his mattress, pushed and pulled by his breath battering against hers in their ribs. Always missing it when he presses his palms into the mattress to lift his torso up and off of her, still inside her, starting to soften and spill. He traces a finger from the side of her cheekbone along the curve of her ear, a silent ask that makes her turn her face to the side so he can dip down and find her mouth with his.

“For the record, I don’t wanna go either.” Another kiss, just a quick, smacking thing before he rolls over beside her, flopping down onto his back and dragging his hand through his muss of hair.

“I know.” She props up on her elbow, her cheek in her hand so she can look at him, reaching out because she can, letting her thumb slide gently beneath his lashes because she can, his cheek rounding under her ministrations.

“Ma would throttle me if I didn’t.” He tilts his chin up, lips to the pad of her thumb, and then teeth just to get a laugh out of her.

“I know.” Said on a long sigh as she finally turns over and sits up in bed, Joel’s palm immediately finding her spine, running the length of it, fingers curling over her shoulder at the top before slipping back down.

“And your parents, well.” He doesn’t finish the thought, well coming out long and low on an exhale. She silently thanks him for not finishing the thought, looking at him over her shoulder, small smile before she gets out of bed, his eyes trailing her bare body as she shuffles around the room, the remnants of him already starting to slick down her thighs. His hands are crossed behind his head, young muscles tensing in his arms, suddenly seemingly content to stay splayed in bed while she puts on the dress she had packed last night for church. Her parents think that she’s sleeping over at Lisa-Anne’s house. She’s been sleeping over at Lisa-Anne’s house a lot lately.

“C’mere, Cherry baby.” She ignores him, padding into his bathroom and running her fingers back through her hair a few times, good enough. Joel has turned over onto his side to watch, a low rasp of singing that she has to roll her eyes at.

Cherryyyyyy, cherry baby

Mmm, you look so fine

I’m gonna make you miiiine

“That’s not even how the lyrics go.”

“No?”

“No.” She knows that she’ll break if she actually looks at him, so she keeps her eyes pointedly focused on slipping the kitten heels her mother insisted on getting her for church onto her feet while Joel huffs at her cold shoulder.

“Come teach them to me then, Cherry baby.” She finally breaks, and of course he’s smiling, his dimple deep and endearing and annoying.

“Joel, get up. You’re the one that was so worried about being late to church.” He scoffs, slumping back down into the sheets with all the drama of a swooning maiden. She’s going to have to use a different tactic.

“I’ll do that thing you like so much later if you get dressed right now.” His whole torso shoots back up at that, eyes wide and mouth agape.

“Today?”

“This afternoon, yeah, after we atone for our sins.” He’s already up and stumbling into the bathroom, his bare ass giving her quite the show.

They drive separate, of course, and they’re both still ten minutes late to church.

…

She’s on the phone when she answers the door, her eyes lighting up, big smile even as she keeps talking, tilting her chin to welcome him into the front hallway.

“Well, I don’t have twenty thousand more words for you yet, and since when are we on some insane time crunch anyways?” He can’t help smiling watching her, pacing a little back and forth, a deep pull to her brow as she fires off sharp words down the line.

“Look, I can’t tell you when it’s going to be done, you know I don’t work like that.” She holds up her finger to him, mouthing one minute. He nods, staying right where he is as she pads further into the house, still muttering into her phone. His eyes start to wander, looking into what must be the living room off to his right, awash in full light from the large windows in the front. To his left is a staircase, pictures already hanging along the hall opposite it. Mostly of her and Ellie, one sending a particular pang though his chest. It’s her holding what must have been Ellie as a toddler, all bundled up, her tiny cheek pressed against Cherry’s, rounded with smiles. They’re standing in front of a huge Christmas tree, that one they put up every year in New York, he recognizes. Cherry couldn’t be more than twenty-four, maybe twenty-five in the picture, still so young.

“What’re you doing here?” He whips around to see Ellie coming down the stairs, death glare in fine form this morning as she comes to stand in front of him with her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed.

“I’m gonna be fixing the porch.”

“That better be all you’re fixing, old man.” Absolutely no clue how to respond to that, and luckily he doesn’t need to because Cherry is coming back down the hall, no phone in hand this time.

“Hey, babe, carpool is gonna be here soon, have you had something to eat yet?” He feels like he shouldn’t get to see this, their quiet rush of a morning routine, Cherry already flitting away into what he assumes is the kitchen as Ellie groans that she isn’t hungry this early, Cherry back just as quick with a banana and a just humor me, please when she hands it to the kid. And then the phone rings again and Cherry groans, quick kiss to Ellie’s forehead which she scoffs and squirms out from under as Cherry darts back down the hall to pick up whoever is calling. Ellie meanwhile shoulders on a backpack and opens the front door, but not without turning around to shoot Joel one more look.

“I’m watching you, old man. Even when I’m not, I am.” She points a sharp finger at him, though he has no time to respond to that either, Ellie shouting a quick love you, mom down the hall which is easily answered by Cherry’s love you, babe, have fun before the kid is out the door with a hard slam. Joel already feels exhausted, and he’s only been here for all of five minutes.

He decides that it’s okay to shuffle a little further into the house, following the sound of Cherry’s voice, still rattling off rapid fire to whoever she’s talking to on the phone. He hovers just in the doorway of what he assumes must be her office, sparsely furnished, just a desk with one of those fancy new Apple desktops on it and a slew of pens and notebooks surrounding it. Still a tall stack of boxes in one corner, though there’s already a shelf built and packed with books along the wall.

“No, no, no, we tried to get her to do the cover art for the last one, and it was a complete fucking mess. I don’t– why are we even talking about this? The book is nowhere near finished yet– this is actually ridiculous. You know what the best thing you could do for me right now is? Leave me alone so maybe I can actually get some work done. Okay? Great, thanks so much, bye.” He winces at how hard she shuts her cell phone. But when she turns around to look at him, the scowl on her face melts into more of a resigned grimace.

“Sorry about that.”

“If it’s a bad time, Cher, I can come back another day.” She’s breezing right past him, always at a clipped pace it seems, and all he can think is that he should probably be following behind her and into the kitchen, so he does, albeit a little tentatively, not wanting to disrupt whatever warpath she seems to be on.

“No, it’s a perfect time, I swear, I will throw my phone in the garbage disposal if anyone else calls me.” She has a hand held up, as if she’s trying to remember something and pointing one finger into the air will help, her eyes scrunched shut. Honestly, she looks completely fritzed, taking a few steps toward the refrigerator, then seeming to change her mind and walk back over to him where he’s standing in the doorway.

“Right, the porch, sorry, let me just get my brain out of my editor’s ass and–” He cuts her off with a hand on her bicep, easy, friendly. He can do friendly.

“Cher, really, it’s okay, I have all day.” She finally seems to take a breath that makes it past her throat, that frantic tilt in her eyes already starting to smooth.

“Is Sarah’s team doing the whole bonding thing today too?” He nods, sharing a quick smile with her, and then remembering that no, not friendly to just keep his hand on her bicep and no, there is no non-awkward way to retract his hand, though he does his best.

“So the porch, what am I working with here?” She leads him out to the backdoor and he finds that he’s working with exactly what she described. The planks are all rotten, pock-marked and fraying, a complete hazard. He doesn’t even try to walk on it, it's that bad.

“Well, what do you think?” She says it with the corner of her thumbnail worrying between her teeth, leaning in the doorframe beside him.

“I think you’re gonna need a whole new porch, Cher. Just looking at it, I can tell you right now that none of this is safe to salvage.”

“That sounds expensive.” Not for you, he’d like to say. Not anything for you. But he can’t say that because then she’d never let him do it in the first place.

“Nah, it’s easy stuff. Maybe a few days, but really, not major at all.” Her eyes scan out over the porch, and he can practically see the gears turning in her head.

“How much do you think, altogether?”

“Uh, well–”

“Joel, no.”

“What no?”

“No, I know what you’re doing, and I’m not gonna let you undersell your work just because it’s me.”

“Friends and family discount, Cher.” There is no friends and family discount. His uncle asked them to build a new addition to his house last year and the Miller brothers were happy to charge him full price, just good business.

“I want you to tell me how much it would be if I was just some random person that hired you.” If it gets her to drop it, he’ll indulge it, he’ll just leave out the fact that he’s never going to accept a single dime of it.

“Well there’s the cost of materials and labor to consider. I could probably get this done over three or four days. You’d be looking at anywhere from four to maybe six thousand dollars.” She nods, working her jaw as she squints out at the porch again before finally holding her hand out to him, though it takes him a beat to realize that she’s looking for a shake.

“Alright, sounds like a deal. And I will be paying full price, just so you know. I’ll send the check to Tommy if I have to.” He’s still holding her hand in a ridiculous shake, nodding along even though he’d throttle Tommy if she really did that.

“Whatever you say, Cher. So am I good to go ahead and get to work out there?”

“Yes, yeah, absolutely, it’s all yours to have at it–” She’s cut off by the sound of her phone ringing in the other room, her whole face scrunching up at the sound.

“Sorry, I just– well, you know your way around the house, right?” She’s already shuffling down the hall toward her office.

“Yeah, I think I can manage, don’t worry about it, Cher.” Her phone is still ringing as she leans out of the doorway of her office, smiling at him, all apologetic.

“Thank you, so fucking much. If you need anything I will most likely be in here for the rest of the day.” She slams the door behind her, and he figures that’s where Ellie gets it from.

…

She almost didn’t return to the auto shop, wan and worn out from what being ten minutes late to church got her, a sharp look from her mother when she slid into the pew next to her, the least of hers worries when she got home after the service. Her parents, so hell-bent on everything being prim and perfect and in its right place, and god forbid anything ever be not that. Nothing prim and perfect about it, really.

She parks at the back of the shop, her usual spot, a quick swipe of her knuckles under both of her eyes, sniff, a bit stiff. She can’t believe that after all this time, this stuff still manages to make her cry. She wishes that it didn’t.

He’s finishing up for the day. She always comes around just when he’s punching out, hovering around the front office, usually a little giddy with it. But tonight she only feels a tired anticipation, trying to get herself ready to be okay for him, when really all she wants is to lay down and be very still for a few hours. She can’t do that though, because he’s there, covered in grease with his ball cap hanging out of the backpocket of his coveralls, all smiles when he sees her through the window of the front office looking in on the garage, laughing and getting ribbed by the other men he works with when he sends her a little wave. She waves back, trying to make a smile happen, though she sees that it looks more like a wince in the reflection of the window. But then he’s really there, coming through the front office, keeping his hands to himself when he smacks a quick kiss to her cheek on his way to the sink to wash up, his neck craned to look at her even as he does. And he’s singing again, and she doesn’t know why, but it’s making her throat curl up tight and hot with tears all over.

Cherryyyyy, cherry baby

Cherryyyy, can you come out tonight

She blinks hard to hold back the salt, trying to make another smile happen as he walks over to her, taking her bag from her shoulder into his hand. And she knows he knows that something isn’t quite right, his brows falling, a barely there question that she’s grateful he doesn’t ask, tugging on her hand to lead her up the back stairs to his apartment above the shop.

“Just gonna get a quick shower, but then I’m all yours.” A small kiss to her lips, she just nods, worried that her voice will give her away, so quick to fall apart under his gaze. While he cleans up in the bathroom, she sits down on the edge of his bed, steepling her hands along her temples, her elbows resting on her knees. It’s a small thing of an apartment, one room, a bed in one corner, and what could be called a kitchen in the other, counter and refrigerator and an ancient looking stove. A small table with two chairs tucked into another corner, and a dresser she knows came directly from his childhood bedroom in the other. The simplicity is soothing to the dull throb settling under her skull.

The shower squeaks off and she hates that she takes a deep breath as if to brace herself for his presence again. He’s quiet padding out of the bathroom, she only feels the slight dip of the mattress as he crawls up behind her, the smell of that irish spring soap he uses washing heady and heavy over her mind when he presses a kiss to the top of her shoulder.

“What’s going on, Cher?” It always shocks her, how quiet he can get, usually all brass and brash, and it certainly doesn’t help the whole not crying thing either.

“I know I said– this morning– um, I know I said that I’d– that I would–” Her fists are clenched so tight in her lap that she thinks her fingernails might break skin, trying and failing to get the words out before the flood comes. But Joel is already springing into action, coming to sit next to her on the edge of the bed, nothing but a towel around his hips, collecting both of her hands in his, unfurling them in his.

“Hey, hey, what’s– what is it? What’s wrong?” Just a few, enough for her vision to start to cloud with them, though she can still see the way he ducks his head down to catch her gaze, his brow crumpled and a deep frown pulling at his lips. She takes one of her hands from his to pinch the bridge of her nose, trying to cut off the tears before they can really start falling.

“I think I’m just tired. I’m sorry, Joel. Would it be okay if we, um, if we just–” He squeezes her hand, a relief in its quiet reassurance.

“Why don’t we just lay down, Cher, huh? It’s too hot out for anything else anyways.” She mumbles a warbly okay, but he’s already up and rummaging through his dresser, pulling on a pair of boxers before digging out a shirt for her as well, because she’s still in the stupid dress from this morning, only now realizing how badly she’d like to claw it off right now.

Finally, they settle down around each other on the mattress, only the sparsest of clothing, the sheets kicked off the end so they can stay close even with the humid warmth in the air. And after dozing for an hour or two like that, letting that thick crush of tears dissolve itself with her cheek smushed against his bare chest, she lifts her head up to meet his half-shut eyes.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, Cher.”

“Do you ever think about leaving?” He drags his finger down the line of her nose, then back up and over the arc of her eyebrow, idle and easy.

“You mean– like leaving town?”

“Yeah, getting out of here.”

“Sometimes, a lot less than you do, I bet.”

“Sometimes it seems like it’s all I think about.” Joel lets out a long sigh at her words, his finger continuing a random path along her jaw, over her bottom lip, mismatched mapping.

“I know it is, Cher.”

“Do you think I could do it? Just not come back?”

“I know you could. Go and be a big time writer and all that.”

“You could too, you know.” Joel snorts, and she brings her palm down on his chest, a small don’t.

“Yeah right.”

“You could. There’s auto shops in the big cities too, Joel.”

“I don’t wanna work in an auto shop for the rest of my life, Cher.”

“What do you wanna do?”

“I’m still figuring that out.” She hums, pressing a kiss to his chest, her bare legs shifting in their tangle with his.

“Would you do it with me?” It comes out, bubbles up from her chest before she can stop it. And she only realizes how badly she wants it after she has asked it. How quickly this has turned into the only thing she wants, her mind finally catching up with everything else. How somewhere along the way, nothing serious, just for the summer, became something else entirely.

“Do what?”

“Leave and not come back, with me.”

“Cherry.” Said long and low, like don’t tease, not this, please don’t. It makes her sit up a bit more so she can fully look at him..

“I’m serious, Joel.” Yes, she thinks, she is really, really serious about this. So serious about this it feels like her heart might split at the seams if he tells her anything other than yes. Joel still looks skeptical, unsure, his head tilted and his brow furrowed up at her.

“Like, now?”

“No, at the end of the summer, two weeks from now. Just come with me when I go back to college.”

“And what, Cher? You’re gonna tuck me away in your dorm room or something?” She hates that now is the time he chooses to be such the pragmatist, frustrated heat creeping up her throat as she lets her nails scratch lightly against his chest, as if she might be able to coax something else out from behind his ribs.

“We’ll get an apartment. I’m eligible to work as a TA next year, and you’ll find work too and then– and then I only have two more years left of school and–”

“Are you really serious about this?” He has finally sat up with her, stopping her ramble into the future with his palm cupping her cheek.

“I’m so serious, Joel.”

“We’d be dirt poor.”

“Probably.”

“We’d probably kill each other after a month of living together.”

“It’s possible.”

“Goddamn it, why am I actually considering this?” That makes a laugh burst from her chest, her smile curling against his, her forehead pressed against his.

“Just say that you will, Joel, please.” He takes a kiss from her, then another, then another until there’s no space between them, mouths moving mouths and sighs being swallowed and his hands coaxing her into his lap, holding her as close as he can.

“You really want to do that– with me?” There it is, that smallness, that youngness, his eyes wide and rounded and looking at her and only her. Asking for something, anything from her. She gives him only the truth in return.

“I wouldn’t want to leave with anyone else but you.”

…

It’s impossibly hot out, humid too, and by the time one o’clock rolls around, he’s doing less actual work and more swiping away sweat before it drips into his eyes. Though he’s pleased with the progress he’s made, having already broken down the dilapidated porch, a huge pile of scrap wood all that remains of it, not much more to do now until he gets the materials needed to start building.

“Cher?” He knocks on her office door, still shut, and he reckons it’s been shut since she slammed it earlier that morning. He thinks that he can hear the faint sound of typing, a small curl of guilt in his gut that he’s interrupting, but he knocks again, a little louder, the typing coming to an abrupt stop.

“Hey, how’s it going out there?” She’s wearing glasses, thick, square frames that hang low on her nose, peering at him over the top of them. It stops his mind short for a moment, something new that he tries to quickly tuck away, but she still seems to catch his stuttered moment, her smile turning slanted as she pushes the glasses up and into her hair.

“Readers, can you believe that? I’m not even forty and I need readers. My doctor says it’s because I press my face too close to the screen while I’m writing, so chalk it up to occupational hazard I guess.” That makes him smile with a quick string of memories, her when they were kids, curled over her notebook with her nose pressed right alongside the quick scrawl of her pencil. Maybe not so new then.

“Reckon I’ll need them soon too.”

“Well, I’ll give you a pair of mine when you do, I have about a dozen of them scattered in various places around the house.” She sighs, a glance over her shoulder to her computer, screen still on, mouse still blinking, and he remembers what he actually came to bother her for.

“Just wanted to let you know that the old porch is all broken down. I’ll have one of the guys come by and pick up all the scrap in a day or two. Next step will be you deciding on what kind of wood you want the new one built with.”

“Oh wow, you moved fast, huh?” He palms the back of his neck, just a bit bashful under her wide eyes and small praise. But then he realizes that he just showed her the huge sweat stain under the arm of his t-shirt, quickly dropping his arm back down with a shrug.

“It’s nothing, Cher, that wood was so rotten most of the work was already done for me.”

“Thank you anyways, seriously, I– oh shit, is it really one already?” He realizes that she’s looking over his shoulder at a clock hanging on the wall outside her office, another long sigh deflating her shoulders.

“I can’t believe you’ve been working this whole time, Joel. Jesus, it’s so hot out– here–” She’s already on the move, and he just barely keeps up on her heels and into the kitchen. Whatever this is, this frantic and flighty energy, it’s definitely new. His protests fall on deaf ears as she bangs and barges around the kitchen, filling a glass with ice and water and–

“We don’t have much to eat, and I know you aren’t exactly interested in tofu but–”

“Cher–”

“There’s a new sandwich place that I saw opened down the street? I forget the name but I could–”

“Cher, I–”

“I always have eggs in the fridge, not exactly lunch but–”

“Cherry.” Just enough volume, enough firmness for her to stop in her tracks, still that flustered look on her face, and it confirms what he had suspected.

“Are you– are you nervous about something?” Another long sigh, the tense lift of her brow slackening as she hands him the glass of water, finally slowing down.

“Do you want the truth?” He can’t help the short bark of laughter that comes out at her question, though she seems dead serious, looking up at him from under a rather timid pout.

“I’d prefer it, yeah.”

“It’s gonna sound stupid.”

“Try me, Cher.” She rounds the kitchen counter to stand in front of him. He swears his heart jumps and jolts into his throat when she picks up one of his hands in both of hers, turning over his palm. He doesn’t dare move, not a muscle, watching the way her lashes drop down to her cheeks from the way she keeps her eyes focused on his hand.

“Well, I– oh, you have a splinter in your palm.” He is so completely uninterested in the fact that there’s a splinter in his palm right now, willing her to get back to whatever track she was just on, but she’s already tugging him by his hand through the house and up the stairs and into a bedroom, her bedroom, he thinks, and finally into her bathroom. And there’s no real thought formed in his mind as he watches her rummage in her medicine cabinet for tweezers, just that tightness in his throat and the strange kick in his chest.

“Alright, quick pinch.” Something that a mother would say, his eyes prick with it, and not because of the swift pull of the splinter coming out of his palm. And she’s so close, her chin tucked down to look at his hand, her forehead almost grazing his. And her hand that isn’t daubing disinfectant into his palm is cupped so lightly beneath his own, her thumb stroking along the side of his. A small whisper of that’s better, though he doesn’t let her flit away when she’s finished, turning his hand to lace his fingers with hers. Her eyes stay focused on their hands, but he ducks his head down to finally catch her gaze.

“Now what’s got you so nervous, Cher?” Quiet, something that she taught him how to do first, before Sarah did. How quiet he could be for her, and what a gift it was.

“You.”

“Me?”

“Yes, Joel, you.”

“What did I do?” The small curl of a smile, somewhere in the sway his forehead has pressed against hers so he can feel the ghost of that curve against his own.

“You’re here, in my house.”

“Do you want me to leave?” So light, so barely, her nose brushing along the line of his. His eyes flutter shut with the sigh she lets out.

“No, I very much do not want you to leave.” A fleeting thought, how easy this was two decades ago. How easy it was to reach out for her and now, now it takes every strung snap of his heart pulling and pulsing to close that space. But when he does, the world doesn't stop spinning, there is no orchestral swell. In fact, he can hear a car alarm going off outside. And it isn’t exactly good either, because the moment his lips brush hers, she is just as soon jerking her head away, a quiet curse in the back of her throat. Not exactly the reaction he was looking for.

“Shit, Cher, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have–”

“No, no, that one is on me. I just– could you– could we–” She takes another deep breath, like she’s trying to stop herself from tripping over any more words. He’s happy to fill in the rest for her.

“Try again?”

“Yeah, please.”

This time, he thinks it through a bit more. He brings his hand that isn’t held in hers to the side of her neck, his fingers curling around her nape, something steady to smooth out her fret. Nothing like this, not in years, though he wills himself to remember. A small one to the corner of her mouth, still an out, a chance to decide that no, big mistake, because if this goes any further, he doesn’t know if he could take no without falling to pieces. But she doesn’t pull away this time, her palm coming to splay against his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his t-shirt, the smallest tug to come closer.

The next one is good. The next one is a shared sigh, a yes, please, this. Missed this. Missed the soft puff of her breath against his mouth before pressing his lips to hers. Missed that sound, that broken little thing in the back of her throat when he slips his tongue along her bottom lip. Missed the way her jaw hinges, opening up to him easy. Yes, he thinks, this feels easy. Like they never stopped.

Neither of them speak, silent understanding in the shuffle of their feet, knees bumping into each other as they stumble out of the bathroom and into her bedroom. He should be more careful, he should be less greedy. He should, but. But she’s here, and she’s pressing the perfect length of her body against his, and she keeps kissing him, surprising him when she pulls away only to put her lips in that one patch of his beard that has never grown right, holding her mouth there like yes, she has always been right there.

So he grows greedy with it, his hands almost unsure of where they would like to start first. Her hips, holding the frame of them, feeling that presence before his palms slip up under the hem of her t-shirt, warm skin and the notches of her spine, known and unknown at the same time. And he thinks to himself that it must be a New York thing, this no bra streak she seems to be on, but he’s happy for it, makes it easier for his palms to spread out over the planes of her shoulder blades, the fragile flutter of bone and muscle as she circles her arms around his shoulders. Her fingers slip under the neck of his t-shirt, seeking out skin the same as him, and suddenly that little worry, that little fear creeps in. He could excuse it as insecurity, that would be easiest, so he does.

“Cher, I– I’ve been working all morning and I’m pretty sure I smell and–” The words fizzle out in his throat when her nails scratch along his shoulder blades, holding him in place as she noses along the line of his neck, her lips coming to rest just beneath the hinge of his jaw. Still surprising him, she ducks her head down, pressing her face into his chest, an inhale that feels deeper from the rise and fall of it against where his palms are still splayed on her back.

“Joel, I really don’t give a fuck about that.” No, no retreat, not now, her small nod enough for him to take a little more, to keep going. She wants this too. Wants him too. And maybe, maybe she never stopped. Because she’s moving like him, desperate like him, searching like him, so maybe like him, she never stopped.

Each article of clothing is asked after. Is this okay? Yes, please, yes. Still okay? Yes, still okay, please, yes. Until she’s bare and so is he, and it’s the same, and it’s so very different. His palm settles wide over her stomach, fingers slipping down along the dark scar just over her pelvis, her breath tensing and catching there as he does.

“Ellie was a c-section.” She says it shy, her eyes focused on where her hand is curled around his bicep.

“That right?”

“Hmm, nothing ever easy with that one.” He smiles against her temple, his palm dragging up, settling at the curve of her breast, earning a laugh from her when he squeezes just a little mean. Up even further, to her shoulder, to that tattoo, that blooming branch of a cherry tree.

“When, Cher?”

“Three years ago, and this one–” She pulls his hand down the side of her body, all the way to her thigh where the bundle of chrysanthemums is inked.

“Two years ago.” He likes that it was so recent. The small, childish part of his brain does, at least. That she was still thinking about it, that she wanted to keep thinking about it. Something big and proud pressing against his ribs, just so to make him bold enough to coax her back and down onto her bed.

He keeps his palm on the chrysanthemums, only removing it once he has settled on his stomach between her legs, quickly replaced by the open heat of his mouth, dragging along each dark bloom.

“You’re bigger, Joel.” His first instinct is to turn sheepish under her gaze, nearly ready to tell her that actually, he’s doing Atkins. But then he gets a better look at her expression, the heavy droop of her eyes and the soft, small part of her lips. And she’s looking at him, all at him. He puffs up with that look, coaxing her thighs over his shoulders, only wanting it to ache a little with how wide he has her spread open.

“Can I?”

“Please.” All the nerves he remembers from two decades ago, anxious to do it right, to make it right for her. Though that’s tempered beneath the throbbing want he feels, no room to be bashful when he’s hurting so bad for it. And no room to be precious about it either, dragging the flat of his tongue through her cunt, a groan already crackling in the back of his throat when she says his name like a sigh, long and languoring. He stills remembers her fingers in his hair, and he can’t help the way his eyes flick up to her face, brow pulled down deep and wanting, trying to ask for it without having to as he sucks and laps at her clit. And when he pulls his mouth away enough to spit on her swollen sex, only to chase right after it with his tongue, pressing into her clenching entrance with his jaw dropped and heavy, she finally gives him what he wants, her fingers threading through his hair to cup the back of his head. A light tug, always in charge.

“Like that– so good like that– fuck.” That’s another thing he’s noticed, a new habit she must have picked up along the way, her words a little crasser, a little more swearing mixing with everything else. It both shocks and delights him that her bite got bigger through the years.

His hips have started to jolt into the mattress like a damn teenager, but he can’t help it, not when he’s watching the way the tendons in her neck arch and jump as he slides one finger into her cunt, quickly followed by a second when she preens more, please, more. He rests his cheek on her thigh, a kiss to the crease of her hip as he fucks her open on his fingers, that close curl he remembers her liking making her stomach clench and her back arch.

“Look at me, Cher, please.” It feels more like a need than a want, to have her eyes on him, to make this real, and he’ll beg for it if he has to, but her eyes are already cracking open, still half-shut, the downturned fan of her lashes barely lifting. But she’s looking at him, her lips parting as she watches him press his mouth over her clit, holding steady swirling heat and pressure, chasing down her pleasure for her.

“Baby– I want– I want– I–” He didn’t know he was waiting to hear that, how badly he wanted to hear that, has been wanting to hear that. And now it’s all he wants, that word, from her, over and over and over. He smooths his other palm out over her pelvis, holding her steady even when she tries to curl back into the mattress, away from the insistent press of his fingers and the heat of his mouth.

“Say that again, Cherry. I’ll give you everything you want if you just say that again for me.” Her head is tilted to the side, her ear almost on her shoulder as she looks down at him, her face crumpled somewhere between hurt and want. But it smooths out all at once, and he knows she knows, an I got you in the small smugness of her slanted smile.

“Baby, you’re gonna make me come.”

“Who is, Cher?” His words slur hot and heavy over her clit, and he can feel the muscles in her stomach jump beneath his palm.

“You–” She cuts herself off with a stuttered whine when he lets his fingers stretch and curl inside her, though she continues on a drawn exhale youyouyouyou.

“Close?” He doesn’t need to ask it, he can feel it in the way she’s clenching around his fingers, in the way her slick is smearing against the inside of her thighs, against his scruff.

“Uh-huh.”

“You want it?” Another uh-huh and a jerky nod, her fingers curling tighter in his hair and her heel slipping down his back, digging into muscle as he takes and takes and takes.

“It’s yours, Cher. Take it, it’s all yours.” She does, perfectly, with his name small and nearly soundless in her throat, her whole body curling up tight around him before going limp, slackening slow. Just a weak pull of her fingers in his hair and a mumbled come here, please, come here, to coax him up the length of her body.

His cock rests hard and aching against the crease of her thigh, and he hasn’t wanted something so badly, so entirely, in a very long time. She rests her hand on his chest, letting her nails graze down his front, particular attention paid to his stomach, something that makes him grumble, though she’s smiling as she does it, eyes crinkling up. Smiling like that, here with him like that, all he can do to duck down to make sure that it’s real with his mouth against hers.

And no, he thinks, they’re definitely not doing this in the right order. Probably should have had a healthy, adult conversation. Probably should have done a lot of things differently before ending up like this. But she moves so good for him, and he hopes he can for her too, his hand curling around the back of her knee to hitch it against his hip, opening her up as his cock drags heavy and wanting through her swollen cunt. No words when he presses his hips forward, to the very end of her, just open mouths breathing each other in, and stillness that makes his head spin in the impossible heat of her.

“Cher, I– been a little while for me and I don’t– I’m sorry– I don’t think–” Soothing, her palm brushing back his hair from his face, drawing his eyes to hers and she’s still smiling. Not mirthful or mocking, just presence, just feeling it too, her other palm smoothing circles along his shoulders.

“It’s okay, Joel, just let me feel you. That’s all I want.” He can’t help the sound that skitters up his throat at her words, something broken and small, because she just keeps looking at him, eyes wide and reassuring, still brushing her hand back through his hair, taking care as he falls apart for her. And it’s devastating when he finally moves, a full tilt unraveling as they both let out sharp breaths, her spine curling off the mattress when he thrusts forward again.

They take it slow but strong, each press of his hips driving them further up the mattress until he has to curl his forearm around the crown of her head to keep her from jolting into the headboard. And he was right, it has been a while, and it’s her, and he’s already embarrassingly gone. And it doesn’t help that she’s murmuring in his ear all the while, that it’s okay, just want you, Joel, just want this, just give it to me, I want it.

He comes with his hips bruisingly pressed against hers, with her whispered praises swirling around in his skull, and with his heart beating so hard he thinks his ribs might break with the ache of it.

“You’re perfect, Cher. Nothing like this, ever. Just you.” The words don’t make much sense to him coming out, his mouth pressed over her sternum as he speaks. He just knows he means them, softening slow inside her, half a mind to apologize for thinking with his dick, but judging by the way her ankle is still hooked around his waist, holding him close, he doesn’t think she minds.

And no, he thinks, this doesn’t solve any of their problems. So much that still needs to be said and understood and relearned. So much that needs to be sorry, so sorry. Two decades worth of sorry. But right now, she’s dragging her fingers through his scruff to pull his face to hers and she’s kissing him, and her chest is sticking to his with their sweat.

“Missed you.” He’s not sure if he heard it right, mumbled out against his chin. Such a small sentiment to span all that time.

“Missed you too, Cher.”

...................................................

taglist:

@casa-boiardi @tieronecrush @swiftispunk @beskarandblasters @trulybetty @amanitacowboy @pr0ximamidnight @wannab-urs @jksprincess10 @suzmagine @everything-isfucked @lanabobana @kittenlittle24 @sarap-77 @officerrrfriendly @val-srz @bitchwitch1981 @redwoodsanddaffodils @themothersmercy @romanarose @lost-inhawkins @youcancallmeelle @hollywoodcaligirl @harryleatherfit @fifia-writes @brighttears

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller angst #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #the last of us #joel miller smut #joel miller story #joel miller series #joel miller fic #joel miller au

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bhaalsdeepbat · 3 months

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unhinged Durge & Orin thoughts

i'm just fascinated by Orin. she's the little sister seething with jealousy bc they're fighting over scraps of love from a Father (Bhaal) who will never give either of them what they deserve.

and like. Her entire life is lived in ways that are meant to serve him bc she was raised from birth in the church. She's an artist who focuses her artistic vision on her kills and the way she presents her offerings. It's looked down upon, even though Durge also plays with their corpses, but Durge is also daddy's special little bhaalspawn, and Orin knows it. Always compared to the golden child, never measuring up, until she finally bests her older sibling by savaging their skull.

Durge literally just waltzed one day and told them that Bhaal said it was their turn to lead the church, even though Orin had also been born and raised believing that was HER purpose. The rage when some little street rat comes in and starts shaking up the Church. AND EVERYONE LOVES DURGE. They all hate Orin, but everyone WORSHIPS Durge. Durge, who is imperfect, who wasn't raised living the doctrine the way Orin was, and introduces cannibalism (which Orin does not seem to approve)

so all that suffering being raised in the church doesn't even garner her favor with Bhaal or the other Bhaalists. she's not Durge. she'll never be Durge. she can take Durge out and make it so they have no choice to follow her, and the Bhaalists will out of loyalty to Bhaal, but they still dislike her. They miss their new age worship when she takes over.

Durge just constantly frustrated with their little sister's antics. Orin is too rash, she runs her mouth, and she doesn't appreciate death for what it is, she keeps trying to make pretty little arrangements when she should be focused on perfecting the art of dealing death in droves, numbers...like razing the grove or taking out last light inn. bhaal doesn't care if you play with the corpses if you have enough deaths under your belt to make it count, it seems.

Orin choosing to use the tadpole on Durge rather than just allowing them to die was absolutely out of spite. It traps Durge's essence so they cannot be reunited with their Beloved Father. So, Orin is resentful because Durge seems to just have Bhaal's love and favorism without going through any of the agony of being raised entirely in Bhaal's temple. Then you learn from balthazar that this is literally worse than death for durge, especially while they're being used as a living cadaver.

durge had 0 idea of the resentment, too. saravok says something along the lines of durge being blinded by pride & the love of everyone to the point of never even suspecting orin would have anything else but the same blind devotion.

and then durge and orin begin butting heads, as siblings do, but also added layer of bhaalspawn being fated to slay one another and like. i interpret it as their very essence screaming at them to slaughter their sibling bc the divine essence recognizes itself in that other being. just desperate to slay and release it.

also laughing bc orin was raised a traditional Bhaalist church girlie basically. she's christian girl autumn but make it murder

#bat rambles #bg3 #orin the red #orin #durge #dark urge #the dark urge

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enha-cafe · 1 year

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ENHA Legal Line vs No Nut November

happy november in honor of such i bring you my headcanons on how I believe the legal line would survive this challenge

Heeseung

thought jake was joking when he said they should do no nut november and agreed AS A JOKE

didn’t even jerk off on Halloween because he thought that

he’s going through it

took four days before he started meditating

the current main thing that’s keeping him going?

beat jake, he just needs one win

he doesn’t have to win; he just doesn’t want to be the first one out

one day the meditation just stopped working and he was lying awake at night questioning his own sanity

didn’t get much sleep that night

woke up to a text in the group chat from jake saying he had lost

that was all he needed and more

days lasted 11

honestly its a win in his book

Jay

he also said he’d do it AS A JOKE

doesn’t even know why he went along with this anymore

he’s the main one in the group chat that’s counting the days until December

this is his first time actually participating and now he’s determined to win

he doesn’t have a very high sex drive so he’s doing just fine

whenever he has too much free time and his mind starts to wonder he practices or just works out

invited sunghoon to work out only for him to get taken to an ice rink

never again

jake tried to get him to break once by sending him a porn link

jay then refused to make him dinner that night

jake apologized the next morning

laughs each time one of the guys loses nnn

once sunghoon got out jay realized he won

still went the remaining days for bragging rights

days lasted 30

oh and that porn link from jake was used during destroy dick december

Jake

it was his idea for him and the other guys to do it

quickly realized it was a dumb idea

his libido is just too high

please each time jake sees something remotely lewd he thinks he’s going to bust

feels like a horny church kid all over again

tried and failed to pray the horny away

one night he genuinely can’t fall asleep and he’s just staring at the ceiling of his room

his insomnia gets to him and he decides there’s only one thing that can help him fall asleep

days lasted 10

gets bullied in the group chat for being the first one out but doesn’t care

there’s always next year

Sunghoon

honestly thinks he could win this against the others

is confident he could make the full 30 days

spoiler alert, he does not

culprit #1 of bullying jake in the group chat after he lost

after two weeks it finally hit him that he can’t jerk off

decided to go ice skating more often to help fill the void

even invited jay one time, mainly because he wanted a good laugh

is good at keeping himself in check unless something really gets him going

unfortunately for him, he decided to start having a personal movie marathon of things the other members had recommended to him

and every single one of the recommendations had a steamy scene

after the first one, he was fine but then they just kept coming (lol puns)

days lasted 23

Sunoo

thinks this is beyond stupid

still wants to win though

culprit #2 of bullying jake in the group chat after he lost

honestly, I don’t think his libido is that high, to begin with

this boy is coasting until halfway through the second week

everything has just been stressing him out and the poor kid needs relief

the fact he can’t get off is slowly eating away at him

not to mention the fact that there are already two people out and now he’s thinking what harm would it be

starts rationalizing the pros and cons of being the third to lose

realized being third is still a triumph

days lasted 18

hoon and jay bullied him in the group chat

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dandelion-wings · 2 months

Note

On thing about Mondstadt’s government that bothers me is that everybody boils it down to just the Knights on one side, and the Church on the other. Which, sure, they’re what we know the most about…

But it completely ignores the ‘Community Representative��. Considering their signature is one of three needed to (legally) make use of the Holy Lyre, alongside the Grandmaster and the Seneschal, they must be pretty damn important. So assuming they have equal power to those positions, which are at the head of the Knights and the Church respectively, what actually is that power? Presumably it’s an elected position (the title is that of a ‘representative’, plus I would be severely disappointed if there wasn’t even a hint of democracy in the Nation of Freedom), but is there a structure under it similar to the Knights and Church? Is there a completely separate civilian, secular government that for some reason just barely comes up? If it is elected, how is that handled? If both Grandmaster Varka and the Seneschal are on expedition, does that mean they hold more authority than Acting Grandmaster Jean and whoever is Acting Seneschal (assuming an acting-title’s authority, though still above everything else below the proper-title, is still considered secondary to that of said proper-title)? But if so, why hasn’t it come up? Or is it just some guy elected to act as a more expedient alternative to something like a full referendum?

God, I have an education in history and political science that is just begging for some damn answers!

I mean, I don't have an education in those things and am not real good at working those things out myself, so I don't know that I can provide you too much useful commentary here. XD;; But while I'd love if Mondstadt did have some democracy, I... am pretty convinced that it's a theocracy, actually. The Knights and the Church (which tbh seems to exist under the overall umbrella of the Ordo, given that Jean says in her voiceline about Barbara that "the order also manages the Church") fulfill pretty much all the governmental functions we actually see happening at all, including the whole thing in Jean's quest where Charles expects tax forms from her.

I'll admit I also lean that way because I read into Mondstadt as a whole (its history but also our introduction to it, where Amber initially nabs us for unauthorized entry and then there's a whole early section about gliding regulations) a theme of humans repeatedly being given freedom, and gradually rebuilding restrictions upon themselves. Which I don't think is entirely a bad thing, in that I do think communities generally function better with organization and administration and such, but, like, Mondstadt has gone all the way into tyranny before and could again. Mondstadt building itself an increasingly restrictive theocracy feeds into the theme I like drawing from it, so of course that's the reading I tend towards! But, still, that's where I'm at about it.

(I draw a lot of my read of this national theme from the line, "Mondstadt is the City of Freedom, but unchecked freedom without any kind of rules only invites chaos and anxiety," in Jean's character details, and I haven't seen anyone else talk about it, ever, so it's entirely possible this is actually character brainrot I'm projecting onto the city as a whole. I'm fine with that.)

Presumably there is a further government apparatus, but I tend to believe it's probably under the higher authority of the Ordo. Maybe with checks and balances, maybe not (exactly how I arrange the setup for fic where it's needed is specific to individual fic, because the openness of canon leaves the kind of room that makes it easiest to go with what works for the plot). "Community Representative" on its own is very vague; looking at the line where it actually appears, it's talking about the Holy Lyre in the context of the Ludi Harpastrum, so it could even be a role specific to the yearly organization of that particular festival! That said, it does sound a bit more like it's a regular thing, and given my presumption of theocracy above, I think this:

Or is it just some guy elected to act as a more expedient alternative to something like a full referendum?

honestly is the most likely possibility. It would make sense given Mondstadt's ethos and history--you have a representative of the community to sign off on certain decisions (hopefully elected, as you said, but who knows exactly how it happens), like that one about the Lyre, to show that the people agree. Possibly it's a triangle with the Grand Master at the top and the Seneschal (given the above "manages the Church" line) and Community Representative as equals who have input but not ultimate power on the next level down, possibly they both exist largely to rubberstamp the Grand Master and Seneshal's decisions, possibly it's an area-of-authority divide. Regardless of the exact divisions, Jean does seem to have some fairly unilateral powers in the areas of domestic defense and peacekeeping, but that's... something you do want the head of your military-and-police order to have, generally, so who knows how broad her powers actually are to act without the Seneschal and Representative's approval in other areas. The game is, as always, frustratingly uninformative.

Anyway, tl;dr: my personal reading of Mondstadt tends to render the Community Representative as relatively unimportant, despite the equal billing in that quest, because over and over again in quests and lore and voicelines we don't see anything but "the Ordo handles things," and Mondstadt honestly makes most sense to me as a theocratic city-state. I think they're more likely a representative "voice" in the government than a significant power, and I don't think they represent any significant "third branch" other than possibly, given Mondstadt's history, a symbolic reminder that its people have toppled tyrants before and can do so again.

#asked and answered #knight meta #(i tbh am not great at worldbuilding government stuff which does not help this answer #i am fairly confident about building out internal stuff for the knights specifically #because i am familiar with law-enforcement structure and procedure from the inside and tend to just transfer it #but we get so little lore that full-system speculation is putting together pieces into shapes i don't have the same personal experience for #so sorry if this answer is disappointing anon. it's not my area of experience)#the shape of teyvat

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turbulentscrawl · 6 months

Note

Alright, I'm gonna ask! Could we get a sfw/ nsfw for Gravekeeper, please? He's my fav :>

I feel like I surprisingly have a lot to say about spicy Andrew???? I guess I need to do something about that @w@

Spice is under the cut!

Andrew Kreiss

SFW

-Andrew is a slow burn guy in all manner of relationships, but especially so where romance is involved. He just really can’t fathom someone finding enough positive qualities to warrant dating him. So if you pick this guy, you’re in for a long and bumpy road.

-He needs more reassurance than most. Even if you’ve chosen him now, he’s acutely aware that people can change their minds and leave at the drop of a hat, so he gets gruff and snappy if you spend too much time alone with or seem too happy in the company of someone else. If you don’t soothe the concerns early enough, he’ll start to pull away and avoid you.

-He doesn’t mind teasing as much as it seems. Andrew has a tendency to scoff or click his tongue or curse whenever someone pokes fun at him, but these are just gut-reactions he’s always leaned on and they don’t necessarily mean he’s upset. It’s when he goes quiet that you know he’s about to blow. He’s used to taking insults and defending himself, but there’s always an initial pause where Andrew processes through shock, to hurt, and then to anger.

-His embarrassed face is perfect. When Andrew blushes, his whole face and neck turn, ears included. And knowing he’s embarrassed makes him even more embarrassed, which just makes the whole ordeal last even longer. He tries to hide the redness behind his hair, but it doesn’t help much.

-If you’re shorter than him (which isn’t difficult to be) he enjoys resting his head on top of yours.

-If you’re a love-biter, expect him to reciprocate…even though he doesn’t understand it. It’s just a thing, he guesses?

NS/FW

-He has absolutely zero experience with sex. He’s never even really touched himself before—anytime he so much as thought about it, he was overcome with disgust. Everyone always said he was disgusting, that they couldn’t stand to look at him, and he’d seen what the church would do to “sinners.” He really couldn’t stand the thought of making his lot even worse.

-He’s a switch. Kind of? Andrew doesn’t really know what a switch is, and honestly doesn’t really care. Whatever role he fills just depends on the mood. His libido is also on the low side from years of being ignored, but just in the sense that he won’t initiate much. He’s usually fine to go anytime you want to as long as he gets some foreplay.

-Surprisingly very blunt once he’s been intimate with you once or twice. His potty mouth lends itself nicely to certain kinds of dirty talk since he’s not concerned about saying things other people usually have some shame over. Lines like “Oh, you want to fuck, is that it?” and “I need to finish this first, go wait in my room. And you’d better be patient.” are not uncommon from Andrew.

-He’s antsy about trying new things. He doesn’t like not knowing what to expect, and he’s always going to have to fight those earlier insecurities whenever the routine is changed. So any time you want to try something new, it’s best to have an in-depth sit down beforehand so he can be mentally prepared. You will also have to introduce things one at a time. Laying out all your desires and kinks at once will read to Andrew as expectations rather than options and cause him to pull away.

-He would NOT be comfortable with anything that hurts you and leaves evidence behind. Things like spanking and hair pulling would be fine with time, but there cannot be any blood or significant bruising, otherwise he starts to panic because only a monster does that to their lover, right? He would also hate being tied up. Now, if you want to be tied up….

-You’d really have to push to get him to admit it out loud, but he’s weak for being worshiped. Lust is a thick fog that even his insecurities can’t pierce, so amidst the throes of passion is really the best time to lay all your compliments on him. He’ll be aware enough to hear them, take them in, but not to try and rebuff them. After sessions involving a lot of compliments, he’ll be very quiet and blushy as he processes all the nice things you said.

#idv x reader #identity v x reader #identity v #turbulentscrawl #spicy content #andrew kreiss x reader #idv gravekeeper

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bambi-kinos · 2 months

Text

McLennon male/female AU

So way back in June 2022, I was talking with some friends including @dovetailjoints about this Paul McCartney manip where his face was converted to a woman's:

I promptly lost my mind on account of being a huge d*ke so I started spinning up a McLennon m/f AU about it. I still think about it a lot but I also don't know if I'll ever write it or not. Looking at @erinarigby's beautiful rendering of John and Paula reminded me of it, so I am publishing these notes for the pleasure of the reading audience.

I might still return to it at some point but I am currently waist deep in my longfic and have different projects lined up after that.

John and Paula are at the fete together but Paula is being crowned the Rose Queen or whatever it was that was happening in the background. Her best friend is Dot and her closest guy friend is Ivan and she's too busy basking in the attention of winning a competition to give a single fuck about John Lennon. She already knows her worth so who gives a fuck about that guy? They do NOT have a fateful meeting at the church hall.

(The secret is that she quietly follows him on the bus and has his route memorized. Light stalking of the teenage girl kind and I bet Dot has been helping but they treat it as a big joke.)

Ivan and Len both know Paula from school before they went to gender segregated academies or whatever. Paula actually finishes her education here because her dad wants her to do it and I bet she would have been a daddy's girl through and through. Mike is still her little brother and she vacillates between doting on him and bullying him. (Older sisters can be really mean to their younger brothers, I've noticed.)

Ivan still sings her praises to John but John does not take this in the slightest bit seriously. He and the rest are convinced Paula is Ivan's secret girlfriend (it's actually platonic between them, George is the one who carries a torch for Paula) and that Ivan wants her around so that he doesn't feel lonely at Quarry Men practice.

Things finally come to a head when Paula helps Ivan carry his tea chest bass to a QM band practice. The mythical J. Paula McCartney! (She won't tell anyone what the J stands for because it's embarrassing.) Paula's face definitely catches some unwanted attention so she deliberately plays up being Ivan's girlfriend to escape it. I imagine she's pretty cold about this kind of thing and probably much more ruthless than AMAB Paul because she has to play for keeps to be taken seriously.

Then she notices John playing with banjo chords. She says something. This goes very, very poorly.

John could take direction from an AMAB Paul who showed off his skills but Paula just rocks up and makes fun of him to his face. "She doesn't even play! Ivan, muzzle your bitch and get her out of here." Doesn't help that John is immensely taken with her but he doesn't like this at all.

Years of slapslap (no kiss) ensue, Paula eventually does make her skills known to John in someway but he's able to put her down for being a girl and therefore not a threat. I have no idea how they would both develop musically but I imagine that any attempts at a collaboration between them would go immensely poorly at this stage. John would not be able to put aside the sexism and Paula would needle him mercilessly.

Eventually though they come to a sort of détente which means that their two social spheres get some measure of peace after some 2 odd years of them screaming at each other during house parties. Everyone else can tell they want to fuck each other's brains out but they both frequently declare their public loathing of each other. For some reason John makes it his business to know what the guitar girl from Allerton is doing with her time and who she is spending it with. As she gets older this might even become a more reasonable proposition as Liverpool is still a rough neighborhood and she insists on walking home by herself after dark. Eventually she and Ivan stage a public break up so that John realizes its "over" (lol) between them and stops bothering poor Ivan about it.

George is more territorial about Paula which is cute coming from a pipsqueak that John easily has 30 pounds over. Unfortunately Paula does not see George that way.

At some point Paula becomes a bit of a woman about town and starts seriously dating men. John muscles his way into this, for some god forsaken reason, and makes a nuisance of himself running off Paula's dates. More screaming matches ensue but John seems incredibly agitated about something that Paula doesn't understand.

At some point in the détente John makes it into art college. Paula makes sure to mock him to his face for being an academic failure and reminds him that he'll never graduate because he doesn't have the guts. To this end John does in fact buckle down out of pure spite. I don't know if he would actually finish but I think he'd actually develop as a painter and a sketch artist just to show her up. I don't think John Lennon of all people could bear a beautiful woman mocking him for his inadequacy.

John might go on two dates with Cynthia but I think she would be a little unsettled at how he manages to insert Paula McCartney into every single conversation, but not in a jealous way. Cynthia tracks down Paula at some public gathering and asks her if she's being bothered by John. A trio of Dot, Paula, and Cynthia forms. SLEEPOVERS etc. John settles down because Paula isn't actively dating anyone here, she has her galpals and they are extremely epic friends.

Something happens that triggers Paula and John running off on their own. I'm imagining John stealing a college teacher's keys and they drive out to get some lunch somewhere. It's an unexpectedly good gesture from John Lennon who Paula usually dismisses as a cad.

I think at some point during this conversation John would admit that he knows Paula is a good guitar player -- its just that he can't really own up to it in public. A unique moment of vulnerability from him and she responds in kind. She tells him she thinks he's the best singer she's ever heard. For the first time things are not shitty between them. John probably ruins this by honking her breasts.

Paula graduates secondary and has to decide what the fuck to do now. It is 1960, they're going to go to Hamburg eventually but not yet. John has managed to establish something with Stu and I think Paula sent George John's way because he needed support that he refused to accept from her because she's female. She's been a loner for all her life, it's not a big wrench now.

George has had a front row seat to John's Paula obsession for years now and he's both intrigued and weirded out and wants to date Paula himself.

I'm imagining some scenario where John finally goes…why not try it. What's stopping him. So he finds her at an outdoor market and he actually tries to be smooth. He catches her eye on the other side of the road and nicks a wildflower bouquet. He trips comically and almost goes down but then appears three stalls later. Paula is laughing, yes yes she thinks it's funny. He waits at the end of the strip and gives her the bouquet and they spend some quiet time together. Nothing sexual, John is just ready to try something he's never attempted before: treating a woman like a person.

Paula reciprocates and buys him something to eat probably. He really is very handsome and very intelligent. She likes him better without the quiff and says so. He succeeds in making her laugh. His hair is so red and he's still the beautiful boy she saw on the bus.

They're watching the sun set over the Mersey when she says "I was accepted to [university.] I'm leaving at the end of the week. I'm studying music."

John goes quiet but doesn't really react except to congratulate her. He knows she will do well.

He goes home and it goes poorly.

Cyn and Dot throw a big good bye party for Paula to celebrate her leaving home. Their pearl is escaping into the big wide world. Paula is deeply unhappy. Something is missing. She gets very very drunk. George shows up and tells her that John and Stu have secured a gig in Hamburg. They'll be leaving at the end of the week too. For some reason John was really, really intent on leaving all of a sudden. Paula definitely locks herself in her childhood bathroom and cries her eyes out.

John notably does not put in an appearance at the party even though Stu and his hot friend Pete Shotton definitely do along with George. Everyone knows that John and Paula have a thing so where the hell is he? Even if they don't like each other they've still been a big part of each other's lives -- John has an arrest record because he punched out the guy who spiked Paula's drink a few months ago and she screamed bloody murder in the police station until they let him go. What gives?

John still does not put in an appearance. Someone sees a creeper by the front door but he slides away before anyone can see him.

Around 4am Paula finally drags herself upstairs upset and wasted and not sure why she's unhappy. She hears the rocks clatter against her window and by the time she pokes her head out John is risking death by climbing up the drainpipe. She almost screams but helps him inside instead.

John is a MESSY PERSON and he promptly goes to pieces in her arms. What am I supposed to do without you, he sobs. Aren't you going to miss me? Aren't you going to think about me? Don't I matter to you at all?

They have another small argument but its not very serious and its clearly flirting at this point. They're both pretty bombed so they just end up stripping and holding each other.

Jim finds them the next morning. It goes poorly.

Paula decides she's going to Hamburg with John. He told her they need a fifth person and he gave her the eyes. She knows what he wants and she knows what she wants and she isn't wasting money on some stupid school. She doesn't want to be a music teacher anyway.

Jim informs her she is not going to Germany in the company of four randy boys much less with the town ne'er do well John Lennon. Paula bides her time and packs a bag and her guitar. She escapes out the window the morning that they're set to leave for Hamburg and shows up at the last second. John hugs her tightly and doesn't let go for several hours. She just blew her uni placement to be with him.

Hamburg happens. It goes poorly but also very well. John suddenly gets a lot more sensitive to their accommodations. If it was all blokes he wouldn't care but now that they're out of the cradle of Liverpool he's suddenly sharply aware of how many people are watching them, and watching Paula, and how vulnerable she actually is. Paula adjusts to the German catcalls and otherwise refuses to appear ruffled. Honestly don't know how to render this particular section except that John would get an early education on how a woman and a bandmate can be treated. This isn't Cynthia being pawed at by a German sailor, this is his bandmate Paula having to dance away from blokes trying to climb up the stage to get to her. "Alarmed" doesn't quite cover it.

For Paula its an education. She's never performed live in front of an audience before; this version of Paul never performed with the QM. Gelling with the band out of no where is a hell of a challenge but Hamburg still makes them. She surprises John by engaging in the loogie races and by being intrigued by the sex workers around town. I think that she and John still wouldn't be having sex at this point because John is still absorbing all the new experiences and it's easier to keep her on a shelf where he can admire her tits without actually trying to fuck her. In John's mind he's keeping the upper hand by not ruining Paula by having sex with her. In his mind he's protecting her from something; he doesn't feel worthy of her and if they get physical he's scared of making her "dirty."

Paula still has ways of unsettling him though. Imagining John's face if she shows him the underbust corset she bought without a shirt to go under it. He's only seen her nipples in the dark before so seeing her dressed up like one of the street girls makes him pretty feral and that's on top of the prellies.

Paula only performs dressed this way once which results in some mass chaos at whatever club they're performing at that night, kek.

Honestly Hamburg is still intensely deranged and Lennon and McCartney's fixations one each other becomes even more pronounced once they start writing songs together. I can't imagine how their music would change once they have access to Paula's vocal range. Probably something more Nightwish-esque as I think Paula being a woman would make John more tolerant or intrigued with operatic styles just because he wants to hear her belt it.

George still gets deported for being underage but I think John and Paula end up staying in Hamburg together because Paula doesn't light a condom on fire this time. She's too busy putting it on John. I like to think they spent Christmas in Germany performing and boning.

They finally make it home after New Year's. Paula is half dead and John is barely a person because he's full up on amphetamines and sex. Mimi won't let John into the house because he had the nerve to take off with a scarlet woman to Germany without asking permission which means…

Jim does not officially let John into the house so Paula sneaks him in through her window. The band recuperates through out January and John gets used to sleeping next to his lady. It's a quiet hibernation period that they think back on fondly later.

At this point Paula is somewhat disgraced for running off with John Lennon and once again John gets to see this up close and personal which is discomfiting for him since its his actions that are visiting these consequences back on Paula's head. He didn't quite understand how intense the judgment was before he saw it aimed her way. It forces him to grow up a little.

But he still takes her to Paris. Common expectation is that they're running away to get married. Neither of them want to get married yet but they're also doing the Lennon-McCartney dance with each other where they become screamingly jealous of anyone who looks at their partner.

Things progress to 1963. They meet Brian, shit happens idk. Beatlesmania kicks off. I have this idea that maybe Paula crossdresses as a man. She is beautiful but she still has a strong jaw and her breasts are small enough to bind without much effort. She is also still the tallest member of the Beatles and she easily has a full inch over John in height (which regularly leads to the best erections of John's entire life.) Being an Amazon has its advantages and this one means she can present herself as a man to secure a unified front with the other Beatles.

I am unable to render how Beatlemania would change if Paula was the single girl in the Fab Four but I can imagine how it would change their look -- 3 beautiful matching boys and the sole female. Lots of color play in my mind going on and of course there's the quiet understanding that Lennon and McCartney belong to each other.

Paula "accidentally" gets exposed as a woman when John loosens her undergarments as a prank and her breasts pop out during a performance. (I don't think anyone would see her nipples, it just be immediate cleavage and a button pops off her jacket.) I am unable to render how this would go, I can't imagine anything except a huge uproar that would send the Beatles into the stratosphere. This would become a moment that gets debated for decades, whether it was a prank from John or if John and Paula came up with it together.

Paula has incentive to do something like this: Brian won't let John and Paula get married because it would disrupt the Beatles image.

1965 - the big one, I think. Paula can be a woman in public now which results in the photoshoot that breaks the world. Referred to only as "the Beatles wedding." It's just too good to pass up.

Paula gets to model a few hundred different wedding gowns (most of these are separate from the boys just because there's so many and she looks good in everything) with various accoutrements anc accessories. There is a portion where the boys will be dressed up as grooms and they'll be getting special sessions with her each.

John is a complete and utter bastard leading up to and throughout the days of this shoot and its commonly conjectured in Beatles fandom circles for decades afterwards that he was seething with jealousy and humiliation -- he should have married her years ago so that this kind of spectacle couldn't come to pass, and he knows it, but he can't change it now and he's furious that she's dressing up as a bride when she's not even really his. And on top of it George and Ringo are getting to see her before he does and they won't tell him what she looks like.

"I hate you and I will never forgive you for as long as I live," is what George tells John when he asks how it went, what she wore, what it was like. John is hurt and confused.

"You're a lucky man John Lennon. Don't squander it," is what Ritchie tells John when he asks about it. "Make sure to brush your teeth and whatnot though."

John is nervous as hell even though its just some stupid photo shoot and they've done thousands of those already. Brian won't let him drink to calm down so John now has to face Paula in her wedding gown while completely sober.

There's a modern trend of "photos of grooms seeing their brides in their dresses for the first time" and I think all 3 of the boys would get these with Paula. It might even be enough to power several magazines, idk. Collectors items and whatnot. The McHarrison issue, the McStarr issue, the McLennon issue…

Photogs definitely capture the moments leading up to the reveal and then the seeing, the shock, the surprise, the awe. George started laughing and flung himself at her and danced her around, Ritchie did that presses-his-fist-to-his-face thing men do sometimes when they're overcome, yes, Paula is an absolute joy. She made sure to insist on having all different dresses per day because she didn't want repeats. Her boys deserve something brand new every time.

John though. Oh, John. Very nervous, trying not to be, clearly hating the camera, he doesn't turn when he's supposed to and he only reacts when she touches his shoulder and calls his name. Honestly I can see them leaning into a beauty and the beast angle with these two.

If there was any doubt before there isn't now. It's love. Everything else fades away and it's just John and Paula being themselves, except they were always in love, weren't they.

The world promptly goes completely insane upon the release of the Beatles wedding photographs. They got what they asked for and then some. Honestly John and Paula probably have one iconic photo spread of just the two of them that day and in that timeline, that portrait blots out pretty much anything else of cultural significance from 1965-1968. The world turns on but the wedding portraits from that day is what ends up being the most iconic part of Beatlemania.

after that IDK, I'm not really capable of thinking past that. I just like the idea of the wedding photoshoot and how John and Paula came from those humble beginnings. I think they'd definitely have children together but I don't know if they could manage a stable family unit or if they'd be able to save the band from the break up. But there wouldn't be any faffing around about "the Lennon and McCartney rivalry" or "they always hated each other." The wedding shoot was too real.

Notably, John and Paula did attend the premier of A Hard Day's Night with Paula in a white dress and John in a black tux. Symbolism.

I think by the time the Get Back sessions happen John and Paula have an almost three year old and Paula is heavily pregnant with their second or third child. Instead of the deadline being Ringo's acting job they're trying to get one last project in because the second baby is due in February.

I think with Paula's height (she would still be taller than John after all and this time she's wearing high heels to make the point) and her androgyny they would also get some mileage out of early boundary pushing by dressing her up in the boys clothes, so the Shea uniforms would definitely make an appearance unchanged except Paula's tits are out to here and John spends a lot of the stadium concert unbuttoning her jacket every time she buttons it back up.

Just occurred to me that Help! would be a much more straight Dr. No parody especially with Paula as the built in Bond girl. AHDN would be more similar as a documentary with surreal comedy elements but Help! would definitely be more ridiculous and Johnny gets his girl in the end haha

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These are all my notes from last year. Thought you guys would appreciate. As I was writing this out last year, I remember being caught between two impulses: the "John and Paul would be a pregnant teenagers couple" idea (which I see many other based users have agreed with!) and then the "Beatlemania but if Paul was a woman" idea. In the end I went with the Beatlemania Paula because that's more interesting as a story especially with Paula having to exploit her androgyny for success. That being said I think Paula would absolutely be the Domme to John's sub, there's no way a Beatlemania Paula doesn't have John's balls in a cage and John liked being controlled by a strong woman. He's not allowed to finish until she tells him that he can.

I remember thinking that they would have their first child in 1965, with the idea being that Paula is pregnant during the Beatles Wedding Photoshoot, which would take place sometime in the winter so that the fashion designers could sell their wares with Paula advertising them. IMO Paula would make John wear condoms for years but once Ed Sullivan happens John makes a disturbingly sincere plea to trash them and Paula assents. Two months later she's pregnant after John's been climaxing inside her multiple times a day <3 But honestly, she's rewarding him for being so fucking brave all the time, he's unironically earned it.

I also think that a female Paula is still has full on baby rabies and by late 1964 she's desperate to get pregnant by John so they can finally start their family. There's an element of rebellion too because she'd be furious with Brian for not letting her and John get married and retaliates by having out of wedlock children.

#mclennon #my writing #talktalktalk #thank you for the art #the beatles #fanfiction

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catholic-character-tournament · 10 months

Text

Quarter Finals - Catholic Character Tournament

Propaganda below ⬇️

Matt

canonically catholic but dresses like a demon to be quirky

They went to confession to a priest who they had saved as their costumed counterpart and the guy recognized them by the voice, proving that it's possible and everyone else is just dumb

he takes "i wanna fight god" to new and incredibly violent levels, while also being a sweetheart and a goofball

matt is a freakish little babygirl who was raised by nuns and definitely has religious trauma. i hate him so much (affectionately)

he’s literally fucking insane about it i don’t know what to say here. he thinks he’s chosen by god to go on some sort of holy quest to save hell’s kitchen. joan of arc ass.

i already know hes in by default j just wanted to give him a personal shout out i love this angsty catholic dweeb

how practicing he is depends on the run, but in my favorite he is quite literally confessing to a member of the last extant order millitant who happens to be a priest at a church in hells kitchen.

I'm sure Harrow is lovely and I respect the space lesbians but listen to me. Listen.

Matt Murdock is the Catholic character of all time, and if you make him lose, I am blowing up this website and everyone in it.

He is Catholic. His mother is a nun. He grew up in a catholic orphanage. Half the episodes in the show include him going to confession. When he needs therapy, he talks to his priest. He dresses up as a devil partly because of the Catholicism.

One time he got godly powers on loan from Heimdall (see below), and he did a lot of good with it, and then the second it was over he just... well. Also see below!

This man's every coping mechanism is Catholicism.

Please vote for Matt in the @catholic-character-tournament because he's the best and most realistic representation of what it means to be Catholic. Someone who's been punched and bet and crushed by life but still gets up every day to try. No, he's not a nun like his competition but he's not less devoted because of that. Not everyone is called to service. In the day he works at a defense lawyer to help people. Not for the money but to help people not get screwed over by the law. And at night, he dons a mask and beats up assholes when the law fails them. Is he perfect? No, that's the point. Matt is a broken man who is just trying his best to do well and live like Jesus.

He fully embodies the Catholic doctrine of faith and good works. He has faith in what he's doing even if others challenge him. He believes in forgiveness and repenting even when going up against "the devil."

"The people you murder deserve another chance." ... "No, Frank. To try again, Frank. To try. And if you don't get that, there's something broken in you you can't fix, and you really are a nutjob." "You think God made you a one-man firing squad. But you're wrong. There is goodness in people, even in you. And you're gonna have to kill me, 'cause I'm never gonna stop coming for you, until I take you down."

Daredevil Season 2 Episode 3

He (tries) to love his enemy. He believes in Elektra and Frank and maybe Dex and their ability to change. To be good. And when he can't, Matt refuses to compromise on his morals. While not quite "turning his cheek" he never scoops to their level. Because they don't get to destroy who he is.

Daredevil Season 3 Episode 13

All he does is for the love he has to his neighbors, his community. He loves New York. Not for self-fulfilling needs or for the money or for the fame. He does it because he believes in justice. Because the law was created by humans and is inherently sinful.

"But his competition met God and was disappointed and blah blah"

Daredevil is more grounded (at least the show, maybe less the comics). So now, Matt doesn't met God. But he sure gets mad at him. All of season 3 he angry at God for all the trauma he expired.

"You see, that was me, Sister. I suffered willingly. I gave my, uh... sweat and blood and skin without complaint. Because I too believed I was God's soldier. ( chuckles ) Well, not anymore. I am what I do in the dark now. I bleed only for myself. ( scoffs )" ... "You might hate God right now, but the feeling is not mutual." "No, I don't hate him. I've just seen his true face, is all."

Season 3 episode 1

As a Catholic I don't really want to fight God in a parking lot. Well I do but not in the same way that I've understood (primarily Jewish people but probably other Abrahamic religions) want to fight God in a Denny's parking lot. I want to yell and scream and cry at God and for the feeling to not be mutual. For Him to never stop loving me. As long as I have faith, He will reach out his hand.

Homura

she is a catholic lesbian whose girlfriend became god. she has been through so much.

shes such a lesbian for amdoke

Catholic guilt literally turned her into a demon

she literally watches everyone she knows die over and over and over again just so she can save madoka, the one girl who showed kindness towards her. when madoka ends up basically becoming god in order to stop the cycle of death and violence, homura RIPS AWAY THE HUMAN PART OF HER SOUL so that she can create a world where she and Madoka and their friends can live happily, effectively becoming the devil to madoka’s god

She has so much religious symbolism when it comes to her relationship to Madoka. Madoka is God and Homura becomes Lucifer so that she can save Madoka and give her happiness. She literally rips God from heaven and rewrites reality though. The way she sees her self and shapes reality is through the lense of Catholicism.

most fucked up little catholic girl. we love that for her.

Okay homuras entire fuckin arc is stemmed from the fact she is Catholic. Look at her trying to save Madoka over and over again and suffering for it because she thinks if she suffers enough and works hard enough Madoka will stay. Normal people do not go into time loops willingly. Catholics will.

#tumblr tournament #tumblr bracket #tumblr polls #polls #cct polls #marvel #matt murdock #daredevil #daredevil born again #mcu #charlie cox #r6 #homura akemi #demon homura #pmmm #puella magi madoka magica #madoka magica

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vidavalor · 4 days

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have u ever seen the "his name has Ra in it. Ra is the Egyptian god of sun. Sun has three letters. A triangle has three peaks. Illuminati is a triangle. That means that he's illuminati" videos?

cuz ur like that but cooler and more educative

The last line of your message means you can have chocolate pie. 💕*sets you up with a plate* I was getting a little nervous there for a second lol. I think that any book or show that causes its audience to engage so much is a great one and if someone is enjoying making connections like the ones you described, then it's their life to enjoy. I'm not going to yuck on anyone's yum but I have seen some theories that I honestly had difficulty following so I get whatcha sayin' and I appreciate the compliment.

If I said this next sentence with any other context but with regards to Good Omens, you'd all try to have me committed lol but here it is: I'm following language-related directions from The Voice of God. Literally. I have it in the works to do a post on that alone because the show is actually teaching the audience Crowley & Aziraphale's vocabulary and it's provided some keys at times as to where in the show you can find lessons in it. In S2, there's also a meta scene about it, which is the "Professor Rossignol" scene. Some brief thoughts on that and, since you were nice enough to drop me a note, also on Ra and The Illuminati while we're at it, just for kicks.

It's no good to make it evident to your audience that your main characters are speaking a secret language that they've made up if the audience can't be taught to speak it because then the meaning of what's being said is lost, right? And it is very obvious that Crowley & Aziraphale have their own vocabulary. There are a lot of examples of it but one scene, in particular, that stands out to me is 1967 because it is literally impossible to make heads or tails of what they're fully discussing unless you try to figure out what Aziraphale means by "dangerous." He tells Crowley that he's heard about Crowley's plan to rob a church for holy water and then says to him this, word-for-word:

"I can't have you risking your life. Not even for something dangerous."

What does that mean, right? If you didn't already get a sense that their words don't add up on the surface sometimes, you get smacked in the face with it in that scene. Aziraphale's phrasing puts "dangerous"-- a word with a scary, negative connotation-- in the position of a positive, cherished thing that Crowley would see worth risking his life for and the end result is that "dangerous" must mean something to them besides the surface definition of the word. [What it does is something someone else has asked me for so post on that to come.] Right there, though? You have hidden vocabulary. One of the most important scenes in the show and it makes no sense without an awareness of it. This is all long before Crowley's standing there saying "no nightingales" in 2.06.

There are other scenes where something doesn't add up without an awareness of hidden language being spoken. Why does Crowley melt into a puddle of burning goo at Aziraphale saying "We will win, you know" about Heaven winning Armageddon in 1.01? Because, as other scenes and The Voice of God's narration teach, when they're speaking of Heaven or Hell with pluralized pronouns, they're really talking about the two of them together beneath the surface. That's why Crowley's face melts into a lovesick gaze and hint of a smile when Aziraphale says "we will win"-- because Aziraphale is saying that he and Crowley will win.

In S2, Aziraphale says he learned French "the hard way" with "Professor Rossignol" in 1760. Aziraphale already speaks French. He and Crowley, as Crowley points out in the scene, speak every language of the world. It's a nod towards how you can speak a language but a secret language like theirs is one that can be built out of words that sound familiar but are put together in a way that you need to understand in order to comprehend what is being said.

In the course of the scene, Aziraphale speaks French to Crowley and what he says is a riff on "la plume de ma tante"-- a French phrase that refers to the kinds of sentences that you are taught when you learn a new language that you would never actually say in real life. This scene is actually nodding to the "la plume de ma tante"s of Ineffable Husbands Speak and where you can find them in the series.

The reason why those sentences exist the way they do when you are learning a new language is to teach as much vocabulary as possible alongside teaching people how to conjugate verbs, etc.. This is why you are never taught practical sentences like "Excuse me, where is the restroom?" or "Yes, I would like to buy that bread, please." but are, instead, taught sentences like "Is it true that you can buy white onions at the library on Tuesdays?" lol. It's because when you are a child and you learn the native language or languages spoken by the people around you, you absorb thousands of words just by living in that world but when you are a teenager or an adult learning a new language, you start almost from scratch. You need to learn as much vocabulary as possible as soon as possible, in order to become fluent. Aziraphale says he learned some "la plume de ma tante"-like sentences (in a language he already speaks but in which he wanted to play better) from a professor whose name eagle-eyed fans already translated as meaning "nightingale" in French, right?

Nightingales (the birds) and also nightingales (the skeleton keys). The Rossignol family created The Great Cipher that encrypted communications for the French government for centuries-- they literally built a secret language. If you want to learn Ineffable Husbands Speak, the show is saying, you need to follow the nightingales. So, who taught us about "nightingale" being a word related to Crowley & Aziraphale? God. Whose sentences, at times, smack of "la plume de ma tante"-like vocabulary lessons? God. What better character to teach us what we need to know than the literal Voice of God, right? God is our Professor Rossignol.

God's 1.01 line of "The Russian cultural attache's black bread is particularly sought after by the more discerning duck" is the most la plume de ma tante sentence in Good Omens lol and the four sentences-- of which that is one-- that God says to re-introduce us to Crowley & Aziraphale in the St. James' Park scene, when picked apart using language elements things suggested by God's opening monologue at the start of the series, contain almost every element of the vocabulary, with other scenes reinforcing and adding to it throughout.

Further suggesting this is the way to go is that if you apply the same instructions to the top part of Demon's Guide to Angelic Beings Who Walk the Earth (the bit above Aziraphale's entry), you'll find the guidelines repeated-- and notes to us that include everything you would need to unlock the hidden language in the entries for Aziraphale and Baraqiel (Crowley) beneath them. I'm not just randomly deciding this is what stuff means, is mah point lol. I'm taking lessons from Frances McDormand.

As for Ra and The Illuminati, well... to date, I've seen Ra come up as one of the many, many words in Demon's Guide to Angelic Beings, which are hidden-in-plain-sight coded love letters. Aziraphale uses it in relation to Crowley. Ra is the ancient Egyptian god of the sun and was depicted as a figure that was half-bird, half-man. That alone would probably be amusing to Crowley & Aziraphale. Aziraphale referring to Crowley as the god of the sun is just romantic. The sun is a star and Crowley made them; the Earth and all life and their life on it would die without the vital warmth of the sun. There is no food and no peace and no life without it. Calling his very old serpent partner the god of the sun sure sounds like Aziraphale saying that he can't live without him.

As for the masons and Gabriel... I took it as a joke about conspiracy, actually, not something suggesting one. The bartender at the pub assumes that Gabriel and Beez are masons-- meaning Freemasons-- because he thinks that there is a local chapter that meets nearby. The bartender has made assumptions about Gabriel and Beez that add up to "not from around here" and assumes they're there for a mason meeting. Gabriel is well-dressed and clueless in a rich sort of way to the bartender-- he doesn't know what a jukebox is and he's in an expensive-looking suit. He also has an American accent so the bartender figures he's probably not a local. Gabriel doesn't dissuade the bartender from thinking that he and Beez are Freemasons because Gabriel has no idea what that is-- because the bartender said "masons" and, honestly, that actually is pretty close to what Gabriel is by his own definition.

A mason works to make things out of stone and the original meaning of the word was specifically related to those making stone walls. Gabriel was in Eden at the start-- the ultimate in stone walls built-- and he also just took Beez to see a statue of himself carved out of stone. Walls are really all Gabriel's ever overseen being built or ever reinforced or ever known before Beez. He's not the most poetic of beings but he can see an analogy there where he is the imprisoned imprisoner of those in Heaven and he just doesn't dispute it because not like he's about to tell the bartender that he's actually The Supreme Archangel of Heaven and Commander of the Heavenly Host 😄 so, letting the guy assume that he works in stone seems like a good solution, as it's actually barely a lie.

The irony is that, etymologically-speaking, the bartender is actually more correct: Gabriel, in the pub that night with Beez, isn't a mason. He's a free mason. Because he's with Beez and the two of them together are carving a path out of their prison walls. Gabriel has actually joined "The Illuminati"-- because he's been illuminated... he's been enlightened. Dude's going to be Grand Master Wizard of The Illuminati or whatever it's called in S3 and bring a whole lot more with him, Beez, Crowley & Aziraphale along the way. He consumes beverages now. There's nothing holding him back. 😂

Anyway, thanks for indulging my ramblings and have a great night. 💕

#ineffable husbands #aziracrow #good omens #good omens meta #good omens 2 #crowley #aziraphale #good omens s2 #good omens theory

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