#hope my parents are proud of me. all those years of teaching me christianity and all that came out of it is good omens speculation
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thinking about the second coming and the jesus/judas parallels...
you're the nice one. here's your friend. best friend even. and you love him even as you worry you're doomed. and now they're here to take you away. he comes up to you. he kisses you. its a kiss that condemns you but nevertheless you forgive him. you give up everything for humanity. and you do it all with a smile! you turn the other cheek!
you're the evil one. you have to do the dirty work so heaven doesn't have blood on its hands. maybe one day humanity will be grateful to you for what you gave them but for now it's a thankless job. you never wanted any of this but here's your part in the great plan. here's your friend. best friend even. you kiss him. they take him away and you are alone.
#good omens#good omens meta#my writing#to clarify i dont think anything crowley did was a betrayal#but i do think aziraphale took it as such#its like. i offered you eternity and safety and happiness. i thought itd be enough. arent i enough? must you betray me with a kiss?#hope my parents are proud of me. all those years of teaching me christianity and all that came out of it is good omens speculation
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skin on skin
PAIRING ➩ jake x reader
GENRE ➩ religious corruption au, church boy jake au, evil reader
WARNINGS ➩ heavy criticism of religion in an extreme exaggerated manner, manipulation, multiple smut scenes, the mc is straight up mean and evil and says mean things all the time lol. parental and spousal abuse… think that’s it maybe lol it’s an intense read
WC ➩ 20.4k (😵💫)
AUTHORS NOTE ➩ the spacing is a bit weird because apparently this exceeded the length amount in tumblr… i don’t care about your think pieces on religion or the way it’s discussed in this so please don’t try to educate me on the actual ways of christianity! it’s a story! that being said this is in no way making a mockery of jake and his religion. this is my favorite story ive ever done and i had a good time writing it which is rare lately so i really hope you enjoy it and if you make it to the end let me know what you think! hope you like it as much as i do
It wasn’t like you came out of the womb with horns and a little forked tail.
The nurses didn’t scream in terror and your mother didn’t faint at the sight of you, it wasn’t some grand discovery that anybody could see or anybody could plan for.
You made it through your formative years relatively normal, or at least as normal as you could be considering who your father was. But it wasn’t until middle school when you realized how different kids would treat you because of this.
Those were your favorite years you could remember. The half decade before anybody cared, or knew enough to care, what it meant for you to be who you were. Then you were old enough to have consciousness and design your own set of morals, something all the parents in your town dreaded.
Your town was barely that, more so a few neighborhoods sprawled across barren lands with more fields and trees than concrete and signs of the modern world that had seemingly developed everywhere, except for where you’d been born.
Sometimes you wondered if you’d been cursed to stay here forever. It seemed like everybody who was born here, died here, but unlike you they all seemed pretty content with this fact. Proud even, the elders stating the amount of years and generations they’d own their rusty old homes like it didn’t create a nasty pit in your stomach.
Time was frozen and the world had moved on, leaving all 2,000 of you behind to die and birth and die again until eventually the last generation killed themselves off in an act of sympathy, a mercy slaughter.
It was probably immoral to be thinking about your entire town dying whilst in church. But you didn’t think much about the implication of having sinful thoughts anywhere, regardless of how many crosses were currently burning stares into your back.
More than 70% of your life was spent inside these four walls, on this exact weathered seat on this same old pew.
See, when turned 12 years old and the kids at school made you aware of the fact your dad was the lead preacher at the only church in town, you figured this made you some sort of royalty.
Not once did you feel the overwhelming holy presence of god that everybody else seemed to be experiencing everyday after school and work when you all settled in together to listen to your fathers teachings.
You’d sit with a scowl on your face, turning around in the front row pew reserved for the preachers family and you’d observe the people around you. You knew everybody in your town, some more than others, but you always thought people looked different when they prayed.
The nice man who worked at the grocery store looked far more guilty and weathered with his eyes closed and the angry woman two blocks away who yelled at the kids riding their bikes too close to her sprinklers, looked peaceful like she was talking to an old friend.
Your mother would hiss under her breath in an attempt to catch your attention, sending soft pinches to your thighs until you’d begrudgingly turn back in your seat and plop down in your puffy dress, tuning out the sound of your fathers loud voice.
Looking back on it now, your mother seemed to notice the dark parts of you brewing before you even did. The two of you never saw eye to eye and despite the fact you were her only child, much to her dismay considering they tried for years after your birth to have another but to no avail, she never treated you with any sort of motherly warmth or kindness.
She’d glare at you from across the dinner table while her and your father conjoined hands and thanked the lord for the meal that your mother had cooked. You’d started to sit on your hands at dinner when you were 7 years old and what once was a cute misbehaving habit quickly became the warning sign of your future endeavors.
Still, part of being the preachers family was playing an act. So you’d all get up early in the mornings and wordlessly move around the house like the backstage of a play, dressing the part and giving bright smiles to each family that walked through the doorway on Sunday morning.
Your mother would stand behind you with a long stretched out smile, hands on your thin shoulders as she dug her nails down every time she felt you tense up at a greeting.
Then you were 16 and for the first time in your life, you heard her voice the thing you’d always assumed she believed. You stood in the hallway in your nightgown, standing stiff as a board to avoid the creaking wood of your old house, peering around a dimly lit corner to hear your parents conversation more clearly.
“She hasn’t done anything wrong Mary.” Your fathers rough low voice was flowing in your direction, sounding tired and agitated. You could vaguely hear the sounds of his rough hands rubbing over his unshaven scruff in frustration.
“She will.” Your mother sounded panicked and alert, desperate for him to understand her case. “I can’t explain it but she has this darkness in her, I’ve felt it ever since I was pregnant.”
Your breath caught in your throat as they spoke, understanding now they were referring to you. You were only slightly surprised, no grand feelings of fear or betrayal arising.
That nights conversation had ended with your mother in a fit of tears and your father uttering words of reassurance in an attempt to calm her down as you used the sounds of her loud sobs to sneak back to your room, getting under the covers and blowing out the candles by the time your father was opening your door to insure you were in bed.
He’d stood there for a few minutes, the door cracked with his hand on the knob. Do this day you wondered what he was waiting for. Maybe he was expecting you to talk in your sleep or he was trying to get some sense of the evil your mother was spewing about, but eventually you heard his tired sigh and the door shutting.
It’d been three years now since that conversation and you still hadn’t fully understood the evil your mother was referring to. You didn’t believe in god, that much had been clear to you from a very early age but you didn’t believe in the devil either.
You didn’t feel things maybe you should be feeling, sadness when an elder passed away unexpectedly or happiness when a new baby was born into the community. You didn’t feel pain when your mother shot you looks of disgust and you only felt slight jolts of satisfaction when she leapt in fear every time you entered a quiet room.
The seed of evil that was apparently inside of you never bloomed, no matter how much you waited for its arrival.
Until the day the Sim’s arrived to town.
It was extremely rare for somebody to move out of your hometown, and you’d been instructed to never speak about the families that left, to let yourself forget their names and faces. Forget any interaction you’d had with them now that they were gone.
But you’d never once contemplated the fact that it was possible to move here willingly. It hadn’t occurred to you that somebody would choose this place to live and that they’d be allowed to stay peacefully, and especially not given a grand welcome.
So you felt yourself uncharacteristically thrown off guard as you found yourself at church on a Saturday, typically your only day you weren’t required to be here. You’d spend these days down by the creek or riding around the abandoned section of town on your bike, trying to find something interesting to see.
As you stood near the stage, where your fathers podium was perfectly centered and polished, greeting the usual faces with a forced smile, your eyes landed on the most interesting sight you’d ever seen.
The Sim’s were a direct mirror of your family as they stood in front of you. Only three of them, a tall man giving your father a sturdy handshake and laughing like old friends and a small meek woman who was holding your mothers hand in both of hers, a thankful smile on her face.
Placed directly in front of you was a boy, seemingly your age, shifting back and forth on his feet as he waited for you to initiate any form of greeting.
There was people your age in town, your graduating class held 25 kids and over half of them were girls, daughters that were considered blessings for their special ability to continue on your towns population. You’d met boys, few handsome but handsome none the less but nobody who looked like the one standing in front of you.
He was taller than you, peering down at you from behind thin framed glasses and about double your width. You imagined you were hidden behind his shoulders to the view of the people stood in line behind him, waiting to greet your family.
His skin was tanned, something that you imagined wouldn’t last long considering you weren’t sure your town was blessed by the sun at all, almost constantly grey and dreary looking even in the peak of summer.
You took your time observing the boy, not feeling any sense of urgency at the knowledge people were watching and waiting, not even at the fact your mother was stood directly next to you and you could feel her stare on the side of your face. Her loss of attention seemed to make the boys mother nervous and she placed her hands on his shoulders.
“And this is our son, Jake.” She was chirping out and you almost wanted to laugh at how desperate she seemed to impress your family. The boy, Jake, was looking at you still for a second before his eyes shot to your mother and he gave her a nervous smile. “He’s shy at first but he’s a very good boy.”
His eyes flicked back over to yours as she spoke and your mouth quirked up in a small smile, finally sticking out your hand in offering to him.
You felt a strange feeling build up inside you, splattering against your ribs and painting your insides with something deep and powerful. As you held his hand in yours, your eyes caught onto your mothers and you could see the fear crossing over her expression at her own realization.
“Hi Jake.”
And the seed bloomed.
——
It wasn’t more than 30 seconds after your father finished his last word, the remains of it still echoing throughout the room underneath the chorus of ‘amen’s, that your mother was gripping your arm and dragging you back into his office space.
She closed the door swiftly and you yanked your arm out of her grip with a scowl, staring at her for an explanation about her sudden behavior despite having a slight inkling of what she was about to say to you.
“You can’t.” She spoke vaguely, an angry desperation in her voice like you were a feral dog with a hungry look in its eye.
“What are you talking about?” You lowered your agitation, doing your best impression of a confused and fearful daughter. She scoffed at your expression and held a hand to her mouth like she was genuinely amazed at your audacity.
“You leave that boy alone Y/N, or so help me God.” She was shaking her head at you and you felt a surge of annoyance at her tone, her voice shaky and weak.
You thought she was slightly pathetic. She’d spent her entire life treating you like the devil, implying your evil and avoiding you at all cost but the second you finally start to understand her concern and she’s immediately turned to pleading and bargaining. There was no fun in this for you.
Soft knocks against the door caught her attention and she looked over your shoulder, trying to ignore the fact you were still staring at her and not bothering to turn and face whoever had entered.
“Go home and get dinner started.” Your fathers voice was entering the room now in a hushed whisper, like somebody was still outside behind him. “We are going to have a welcome meal with the new residents.”
Your mothers eyes shot back in your direction at his words, like she was begging you to remember her previous warning and you offered her a small smirk before turning to face your father with a toothy grin, expression changing now.
“Of course father, whatever you need.”
——
You’d ignored your mothers glare the entire time you worked on dinner together, setting the table casually and changing into a less formal dress that gained a thumbs up of approval from your father.
When the Sim’s arrived, you greeted them similarly to how you did at church except your mother made sure to shake Jake’s hand for a prolonged amount of time so you couldn’t, only breaking apart when your father cleared his throat and ushered you all towards the polished dining room.
He took his seat at the head of the table and you briefly wondered what type of man Jake’s father was. He was larger than your dad, much larger and you noticed a hint of irritation in his face when he took a seat on the side. You imagined he sat similarly to your father at his own house and didn’t find great pleasure in the new arrangement.
There was three seats on each side and your mother had rushed to take a middle seat next to you, attempting to block anybody else from being seated beside you.
However your father cleared his throat subtly and sent the both of you a small glare, confused at the fact she hadn’t adorned her usual seat next to him. You were sure he realized it would be strange for her to sit a seat away from him, making them look distant or troubled.
She sent you a small angry look but shifted over a space so she was now sat in her usual place, leaning an empty chair between the two of you.
An empty chair that was soon taken by Jake, his mother sending him an encouraging smile and giving him a slight nudge in your direction. You remembered what she said about him being shy, not hiding the fact she was trying to create a friendship between the two of you.
His mothers face angered you more than your own. She was small and weak looking, constantly smiling with wide eyes like she was waiting to drop into a conversation at any time to force a connection, yet she rarely did throughout dinner. For the most part she stayed silent, nodding along obediently every time her husband spoke.
So you kept your attention on the boy for the most part, figuring the adults were too busy kissing eachothers ass’s to care about what the two silent teenagers were doing at the end of the table.
You knew he could feel the way you were watching him, sending you small glances out of the side of his eye and shifting uncomfortably in his seat every time he realized you were still looking.
He really was handsome you were deciding. You’d never really paid attention to boys before, understanding the difference between being attractive and not but it didn’t have any affect on you. You liked the slope of his nose and the way his throat bobbed with every nervous gulp he took.
Your father was seemingly noticing your mutual disinterest in the conversation, you watching Jake and him watching his empty plate. “Y/N honey, why don’t you take Jake to your room and show him some of your notes on our latest teachings.”
Both of your heads turned towards him as he said this, your eyes lighting up with excitement and Jake’s widening slightly.
“Oh..” His mother was starting and you resisted the urge to glare in her direction. “Jake isn’t… he’s never..”
Jake’s father sent her a sharp look and she snapped her mouth shut immediately, looking away from him. Your excitement only doubled as you realized she wasn’t comfortable leaving her son alone with a girl, leading you to believe he never had been before.
“Of course father.” You smiled at him softly, standing and flattening out your dress in a prudish manner. Jake glanced in your direction as you stood, clumsily rising out of his own chair as you headed up the stairs and down the hall to your room.
He followed wordlessly behind, still not speaking even when you stood in the doorway and let him awkwardly squeeze past you so he was stood stiffly in the center of your room. You closed the door behind you and he froze, eyes widening again.
“What are you doing?” His voice was high with worry and you realized it was your first time hearing him speak.
“What are you talking about?” You played dumb as you observed him, walking backwards until your legs hit your bed and you could sit carefully. He stayed standing as he watched you with confusion and worry.
“Mother says not to close doors.” He was shaking his head and it looked like he wanted to go and open it himself. He didn’t move however and you leaned back to rest on your hand, cocking your head in his direction.
“Do you always do what mommy says?” You questioned.
His eyebrows furrowed slightly at your condescending tone. You’d seemed nice enough at church and dinner, not speaking much but polite to your parents whenever you did. He was suddenly worried he had angered you.
“I guess she did say you were a good boy.” You quoted what his mother had said when she introduced him, voice carrying a faint mocking tone as you spoke.
He didn’t say anything after you said that, just standing there looking at you like you were some form of animal he’d never seen before. And maybe he hadn’t you were beginning to think, his speech was structured and tight like he was reciting lines and you were curious if he’d ever had a conversation with somebody his own age.
Your hand reached over to pat the bed next to you, raising an eyebrow at him and urging him to sit.
He watched you with that same look for a few seconds before looking back at the door like he was contemplating how fast he’d have to bolt out of it before you could sink your claws into him. He seemed to decide it wasn’t worth it, crossing the room and sitting down as far away from you as he could possibly get.
“Where’d you come from?” You didn’t plan to say that but the curiosity was driving you crazy, not quite understanding how he could be so sheltered.
“A village not far from here.” He was eventually answering with a soft shrug. He was sat perfectly straight on your bed, posture making him look even taller than he already was considering you were still leaned back on your palm.
You should’ve figured he was from a village, suddenly understanding why his mother was practically a house wife from the 1800’s and his dad looked relatively similar to a lumberjack.
“No girls at your village?” You were watching the side of his face as you questioned him, growing slightly agitated that he wasn’t looking at you. “Jake.”
He turned his face towards you when you addressed him, eyes widening like he was worried you were going to scold him from the sound of your stern call.
“I asked you a question.” When he didn’t immediately answer you assumed he hadn’t heard you, repeating yourself. “Was there no girls where you’re from?”
He was shaking his head swiftly, looking at his hands and then back towards you. “None like..”
“None like me?” You interrupted him as he started to trail off and your lips quirked into a smile. “So no pretty girls then.”
He frowned as you hummed and nodded your head like you’d made sense of what he was trying to say. He didn’t look like even he understood what the things you were saying meant and you almost pitied him as you slowly unlocked the full extent of his naivety.
“You’ve probably never even held hands with a girl right?” You kept your tone sweet despite your intentions.
He looked like he only slightly relaxed at your change of tone, glancing at you as he shook his head as a way to answer your question. He didn’t understand why you wanted to know this.
You were sitting back up straight, off your hands, and leaning sideways to get closer to him. He watched you with panicked eyes as you reached down near his lap and took his hand in yours, similarly to how you shook it at the church but the tension in the room was a direct opposite.
He made a strange noise when you touched him, a semi squeak at the suddenness of your contact and you smiled at him, scooting closer so you weren’t awkwardly stretching your arm in his direction.
“How does it feel?” You murmured, fighting the urge to lean against him and whisper in his ear. You didn’t want to scare him off just yet.
“I don’t think I should be in here.” He was shaking his head as he spoke and staring down at your conjoined hands or maybe the floor past them. They were resting in his lap, the back of your hand on his right thigh.
You frowned softly although he wasn’t looking at you, trying to keep up with your act. He seemed to be more pliant earlier when he thought he had upset you. “Jake.”
He glanced at you as you said his name, just like he had before, and his gaze looked guilty when he noticed the frown on your face. You squeezed his hand to try to bring his attention back to the fact you were touching him but he shook his head again.
“I really need to go Y/N.” He was still trying to sound polite despite his obvious discomfort and you almost smiled at the innocence of that.
“You don’t want me to touch you?” You let a small whine sink into your tone, really trying to drive home the idea that he was upsetting you and you felt him squeeze your hand absentmindedly.
He didn’t reply after you said that and the room fell into a strange silence. Then he was sending a heavy glance in your direction and your mouth parted in realization, understanding his inner monologue by the thick amount of guilt in his expression.
“You do want me to touch you.” You let your smile show now, not finding any reason to hide it now that he clearly took your bait. He squeezed his eyes shut as you said this and shook his head again, his hair messy now and falling into his face.
“What’s wrong Jake?” You were almost cooing at him, your hand sliding out of his and up his wrist, in result the back of your hand going further up his thigh. You kneaded at his wrist bone and he grunted at the almost painful sensation. “It’s just skin.”
He looked at you with a frustrated expression, holding eye contact for a few seconds much to your surprise. You were almost worried he was going to cry. You didn’t mind it personally, if anything you were thinking about how pretty he’d look with watery eyes and a red nose, but you imagined it would cause some level of concern with the parents.
So you released your grip on his wrist, taking your hand back and placing it on your own lap. You were still sitting far too close to him but he visibly relaxed at the lack of touch, however slightly confused why you had backed off.
Almost like the world had been paused for the entirety of your conversation and now played again, a soft knock on your door caused you to leap away from him and grab the bible your father insisted was kept on your nightstand at all times.
You were relieved to see his face when the door opened, knowing your mother would have most likely immediately sniff out what you’d been doing. Or at least attempting to do.
Your father looked between the two of you and the large space, nodding in approval when you flashed him a smile and opened to a random page in the book. He didn’t seem to notice how tense Jake was or the fact your door had been closed in the first place.
“Your parents are leaving Jake. You can stay a bit longer if you two are having fun.” Your father was saying in a welcoming voice but Jake was hopping off your bed before he even had a chance to finish.
“No, sir. Thank you but I really should get home and finish unpacking.” He was stumbling over his words and awkwardly shifting in place, waiting for your dad to move out of the doorway so he could make his escape.
Your dad shot you a confused look over Jake’s shoulder and you gave him a small shrug, fighting the urge to smile.
——
Guilt was eating Jake alive the entire ride home. He wasn’t quite sure what he had necessarily done wrong, what level of sin he had just committed, but his mother kept shooting him disappointed looks in the mirror.
“Will you stop looking at the boy like that.” His fathers gruff voice was mumbling from the drivers seat and his mom snapped her eyes back to the front window obediently. “It’ll be good for him to make a friend.”
“What type of girl leads a boy to her bedroom?” He was surprised his mother had spoken again, especially in the harsh tone she was using. She must’ve been angry enough at you and your behavior to forget the fear she held for Jake’s father.
He felt a bit strange as she said that. You were definitely weird and had made Jake feel something he’d never experienced, and he positively wanted to leave your room as quick as possible but he didn’t think you deserved such a mean comment.
He continued to feel strange for the rest of the night.
Jake laid in bed, hours past his usual bed time, and replayed your interaction in his head. Every time he got to the part where you grabbed his wrist in your tight hold, he squeezed his eyes shut and asked god to forgive him.
He could feel his stomach light up when he thought about your hand on his pants and he wanted to dig his nails into the skin as a self punishment for the thoughts brewing in his head, thoughts he had never had before and didn’t understand.
Rolling over in his bed, stomach to the mattress, he stuffed his face into his pillow and cried softly until he eventually fell asleep.
——
You felt giddy in the church pew the next morning after seeing Jake walk in with his parents. You immediately knew your plan had worked judging by his puffy face and swollen eyes. He’d clearly gotten no sleep and you could take a strong guess at the reason why.
A sick part of you was ecstatic at the fact you had something to do, something that actually managed to catch your interest.
If all it took to keep Jake up all night was you touching his hand, than you were preparing for more fun than you originally thought.
The morning had gone routinely as you remained in your seat for the entire sermon, not spinning around to try to catch a look at the boy despite the urge constantly in the back of your mind. You didn’t focus for a second but you did a solid job pretending until you heard a hushed voice behind you excusing themself.
You snuck a glance back to see Jake passing through his pew with muttered apologies and thanks to the people he was passing, smiling softly at them.
You watched him exit the pew and make his way down the main aisle, no doubt heading towards the bathroom hall since it was the only other part of the building outside of your fathers head office. You let him disappear from your sight and counted to 30 before abruptly standing and following his path before your mother could grab your hand in denial.
By the time you made it to the hall, Jake was exiting the bathroom with damp hands and a few wet strands of hair like he had splashed his face in an attempt to wake up.
His eyes widened when he saw you approaching and he glanced behind him like he was considering disappearing back into the bathroom so you couldn’t say anything to him. You smiled at this but didn’t move closer to him, leaning against the wall.
“What are you doing?” He watched you with careful eyes, not quite sure what you wanted.
You shrugged and furrowed your eyebrows. “What are you doing? You look tired, did you not get any sleep?”
He didn’t say anything as he looked at you, eyes heavy and guilty again like he was afraid you could read his mind. Unlucky for him, you didn’t have to read his mind to know what was happening in it.
“Were you thinking about me?” You pushed forward on his suspicions when he didn’t respond to you, tilting your head as you looked at him.
He didn’t respond again, letting out a small tired exhale before leaning against the wall opposite of you. The hallway was tensioned despite not being close enough to touch even if you stretched your arm out.
“I was thinking about you.” You suddenly confessed in an attempt to catch his interest or potentially get him to lower his walls enough for a solid conversation. It seemed to work considering his head was snapping up and he was looking at you with wide questioning eyes. “Is thinking a sin?”
He watched you for a few seconds, slightly embarrassed that you had somehow realized what his inner dilemma lead back to.
“Yes.” He answered matter of factly and you let out a small laugh.
You observed the way his lips awkwardly quirked up, like he was pleased he made you laugh despite being dead serious in his answer. His smile pulled at his cheeks for a second and you liked the way he nervously wiped his sweaty hands on his pants.
“What… what were you thinking about?” He squeezed the words out like they were painful after a silence fell between the two of you. You felt a bud of satisfaction at the fact he’d been curious enough to ask.
“Touching you.” You shrugged like it was a casual thing to say, watching his shoulders tense and his mouth part slightly in shock and disapproval.
“My hand?” You were a bit surprised that he asked a follow up question, voice dropping into a scared whisper like he was worried somebody was eavesdropping, maybe he was worried god could hear him.
You were watching him for a few uncomfortable beats, liking the way his cheeks turned red and he kept looking away from your gaze anxiously. Then you were shaking your head to answer his question, taking a step closer to his side of the hall.
His breath hitched as you kept taking small strides in his direction, taking your time with a loose smile on your face like you were out for a casual walk. You stopped next to him, turning and pressing your back against the wall he was leaned on so your shoulders were pressing together.
You wondered if he was planning to hold his breath the entire time you were touching him this time around, his face reddening even though your skin was separated by multiple pieces of thick fabric.
“Would you let me touch you again?” You leaned over slightly so you were closer to his ear, your chin hovering over his shoulder.
“You can’t.” He was immediately denying your request, stiff and agitated sounding. His voice was tight as he spoke like he was having to force the words out. “Please don’t do this.”
“Because you’re a good boy right?” You were even closer now, your lips touching the shell of his ear and he was shuddering against you, a frustrated whine in his throat.
He sent a sharp glare in your direction, at least as sharp as his features could get. You thought he looked cute when he was mad at you, eyes brows furrowed and his glasses sliding to the tip of his nose. Despite the way he was looking at you, he made no attempt to push you away or step apart himself.
“I want you to come to my house after church.” You whispered to him and he didn’t say anything, for once not shaking his head and just looking at you as you spoke your cruel demands. “I’ll tell my dad to talk to your parents about helping you catch up on his teachings.”
He looked amazed at your audacity, to not only lie to your parents but to lie about the lord and the Bible made his stomach turn in disgust.
Still, he almost couldn’t help but to lean his shoulder closer to yours and watch you with wide eyes and a parted mouth. He felt almost transfixed by you and your newness, the unique energy you gave off that made his head spin. He nodded his head slowly and watched you smile.
——
You’d waited for your mother to leave the house, a very rare occurrence for her outside of her weekly bingo nights at the recreational center in town, before you poked your head into your fathers office to request he calls the Sim’s.
You felt strangely jittery as you waited for them to send Jake over. Surprisingly, the Sim’s hadn’t moved into a house that far from you and you imagined he could probably ride a bike to your house in less than twenty minutes if the weather ever allowed it, rainy days an almost constant feature around this time of year.
It was only around half an hour before you heard knocks on the front door, followed by the low tone of your fathers voice and eventually the creaking of the steps as somebody made their way up to your bedroom.
Jake seemed thrown off when he saw you, dressed in far more casual clothes than he’d seen you in so far. He also looked momentarily relieved at the fact your door was wide open and you didn’t make any move to shut it as he crossed into the threshold of your room.
“Hi.” He politely addressed you with a slight bow and wave, avoiding looking at you fully where you sat on the bed. You gave him an incredulous look and sighed before patting the spot next to you.
He looked like he was dreading this but expecting it, only taking a few seconds of hesitation before he was shuffling over and sitting slowly down on your soft bed. You immediately scooted closer to him and grabbed his hand in yours.
His reaction wasn’t as intense as last time although he did immediately stiffen and his eyes snapped wide open, but he didn’t let out a small shriek at the feeling of your touch like he did yesterday.
“Are you going to let me touch you today?” You kept your voice low and he was suddenly very aware of the fact your door was completely open and your father was just a few feet away downstairs.
He slowly looked over at you, peering up from behind his long eyelashes and you wanted to grab his face with your nails. He looked like a puppy who had just done something naughty, big eyes unmoving from nerves as they darted around your face so he could avoid holding your strong gaze.
“This isn’t right.” He whispered back, eyes pleading as they finally locked onto yours. You almost felt sorry for him as he spoke, obviously so desperate to set you back on the right path in life. “Mother said I shouldn’t lay a hand on anybody, not even myself.”
You almost smiled as he said this, pleased at the new information he was unknowingly providing you with.
“It’s just skin.” You were reminding him again, slowly leaning against him so your chest was pressed against the side of his arm. His breath hitched at this and he glanced down at your upper body for a second. “You’ve never touched yourself?”
He shook his head immediately, face annoyed like he was offended you’d even suggest he would do such a thing. You liked that even though he was uncomfortable and denying his thoughts towards you, he still wasn’t seemingly capable of pushing you away. He’d still shown up to your house.
“I touch myself.” You were leaning forward more so you could talk into his ear again. A soft whimper left his throat when your lips grazed his skin again but he didn’t say anything, like he was waiting for you to continue. “On this bed, I touch myself every night.”
It was a slight exaggeration. You hadn’t really felt a strong need to touch yourself ever, never having a subject of attraction that left you longing enough that you’d roll around in bed late at night thinking about it, squeezing your thighs together in frustration.
But you were transfixed by the way he immediately tensed again, glancing back behind you towards where your pillows were and then immediately shooting forward and falling to the cross hanging on the wall in front of you both.
“It’s just skin.” You repeated to him again and he sucked in a shaky breath as you said it, bringing his guilty pained eyes back to you. You almost cooed at him, clicking your tongue and holding his chin softly. He leaned into the touch like he wasn’t meaning to and you wondered how touch starved he must be.
Your hand that wasn’t holding his face fell down to his lap, laying flat and still on his thigh as you let him process what you were doing.
He stiffened again and let out a low troubled groan, shaking his head again at himself. You wondered what he was thinking right now, if he was convinced he was heading straight for hell because of his thoughts alone so maybe it didn’t matter if he let you touch him. Or maybe he was seconds away from bolting downstairs and telling your father about what you’d been attempting to do.
“This isn’t right.” He was whispering and still trying to shake his head the best he could with your grip on his face. His repetition was starting to bug you, suddenly feeling impatient as he still hadn’t taken the bait fully.
“But it feels so good.” You purred into his ear, turning his head back to look at the cross and scooting closer so you were pressed tightly against his side. The sensation of this mixed with your hand on his leg was overwhelming and he felt slightly suffocated. “I want to show you Jake, let me show you how good it feels.”
He didn’t say anything for a few seconds and you considered letting him go, wanting to have him completely might mean waiting some time so you didn’t scare him off.
Then he was surprising you and looking back in your direction, your hand falling to his collarbones instead so he could decide what to do with his head. He gave you a soft nod, looking like he immediately regretted it when you wasted no time, pushing your hand forward onto the center of his pants.
He immediately lurched forward with a loud groan at the feeling of your hand on him and you shushed him softly, using the hand on his face to bring him back up to a sitting position and pet his face lovingly.
“You have to be quiet Jake.” You whispered in his ear and nodded towards your open door. He looked at you with a desperate glance, like he was pleading for you to close it despite his upset at that yesterday. You shook your head softly. “Can you be a good boy Jake?”
You started to slowly knead your hand against him, wanting to smile at the fact he was already hard before you had touched him. Light teasing and your soft hand on his thigh already had him bothered.
He was making small noises and you kept his face turned in your direction with your hold back on his jaw. You were sitting up straighter than him so he was a bit below you, having to look up through his eyelashes as he surprisingly held eye contact with you.
“Doesn’t it feel good?” You murmured excitedly, eyes wild and eager. He didn’t reply verbally, another small whine slipping from his throat and you pressed down hard on his cock through his pants. “I asked a question.”
Now he was nodding desperately, hands reaching out to grip your wrist in an attempt to lessen the pressure you were applying to him. “Good- feels good.”
His voice was strained and raspy like it was crawling its way out of his throat and you smiled with sick satisfaction, leaning forward so you were closer to his face. Your nose pressed against his and you thought about kissing him for just a few seconds, eventually deciding against it.
Jake was writhing on the bed now, desperately moving into your hand with small groans and whines, his hips lifting off the blanket in an attempt to chase your touch every time you removed it. He didn’t even seem to realize he was doing it, a dazed expression on his face.
He seemed out of it until your hand was leaving his face and sliding down his sweater covered chest. He didn’t seem to realize you were doing it until your hand was pressing on his stomach slightly, fidgeting with the singular button on his jeans and tugging on the zipper impatiently.
“No, no.” He was whining, grabbing your wrist to stop you from snaking your hand down his pants, touching him without any layers between. “You can’t do that.”
“Why?” You asked incredulously, leaning forward so you were hovering over him slightly. He leaned back on his hand a bit to avoid bumping into your face and you were a few inches from laying on top of him. “I promise it’ll feel so good Jake.”
The usage of his name made him wince, realizing he liked it far too much when you said it. He’d never really considered his name before, completely indifferent to it until he heard the way it rolled off your snake like tongue.
“You aren’t supposed to do that.” He practically spat the words at you but his tone lacked any anger instead sounding fearful and pained. “You can’t touch me there, you just can’t.”
You felt slightly sorry for him as he hiccuped, his voice breaking around the words as you watched tears collect in his pretty eyelashes. His eyes kept darting to the cross on the wall with a guilty expression.
You took your hands off of his lap, listening to his sigh of longing at the loss of contact. You weren’t quite sure what to do in this situation despite seeing it coming, eventually opting for sitting up further on the bed and pulling him into your neck, wrapping your arms around his shaking body in a hug.
He leaned into it and hesitantly wrapped himself around you, tucking his face into your warm neck and letting out a few sobs, tugging you forward slightly by your lower back.
You let him cry for a while, hushing him softly every few minutes just in case, although you were in a less compromising position now, you still didn’t think your father would be thrilled to find you half in the lap of a sniffling boy who was still hard against you.
“Jake.” You were eventually murmuring into his hair once his hiccups subsided slightly, he nuzzled into your neck further at the sound of your soft tone. “What if I didn’t use my hands?”
He picked his head up at this and furrowed his eyebrows at you, his eyes puffy and red with wet streaks still going down his face.
“I don’t understand.” He looked more puppy like than normal as he said this in a soft breathy voice, voice hoarse from crying and his lip almost jutting out into a confused frown.
“Can I show you?” You kept your voice soft as you spoke to him and he immediately nodded his head. He clearly had found some sort of comfort in your embrace, a connection being made enough for him to fall into this state of vulnerability, willingly to accept what you were wanting to give him now.
You felt a sick rush of adrenaline at his lowered walls, the sudden dumb eagerness in his eyes as he seemed to seek out any sign of contact from you.
You imagined it was a flood of emotions, a confusion and tiring feeling to suddenly be presented with a situation that went against everything your life had been carefully crafted around. Not to mention how addicting it must feel to suddenly learn what was on the other side and how good it felt, having unbothered access to it as the two of you sat huddled on your bed.
Kissing his cheek softly, you slowly slid off the bed onto the floor, suddenly thankful you had a thick rug on your bed side. He watched you in confusion, looking like he wanted to grab you and help you up before you shot him a stern look.
Your hands were back on his jeans now that you were fully situated and he looked like he wanted to object for just a second before lifting his hips off the bed so you could pull them down to pool around his ankles.
You took just a second to admire him, his pretty tanned skin overwhelming you a bit in its sheer amount. His legs were surprisingly thick, muscular like an athlete and you briefly remembered you didn’t know much about him at all.
That didn’t bother you at all, if anything it made you want him more when you looked up at him to see his nervous eyes staring down at you in concern. He looked humiliated and you imagined it had something to do with the fact he was still extremely hard, even after crying for so long.
If he was more stable in his emotions, less flighty, you would’ve made fun of him. You would’ve called him names and made him cry all over again and then taken his innocence without a second thought.
Instead you carried on the kindness act, leaning forward and pressing a kiss against his length through his underwear.
He immediately hissed and shot forward, not realizing what you were planning to do and not understanding why you were doing this. He started to stammer out in confusion and you shushed him again, sending a sharp glare towards the open door in warning.
“What are you doing?” He sounded absolutely blown away now, even more than he did earlier and it settled in your mind that he clearly had absolute no sexual knowledge, including blowjobs. “That’s dirty, you can’t do that.”
“Why not?” You were mock frowning up at him. “Did mommy say so?”
He knew you were making fun of him but he still nodded in response, not liking the sudden return of your mean tone. He forgot all about it when you were leaning forward again, this time touching your lips to him longer and sucking softly through the fabric.
“Mommy’s not here.” You were breathing out when you pulled away from him again, much to his dismay considering he immediately lifted his hips back in your direction. “And doesn’t it feel nice?”
He was nodding his head dumbly in agreement, feeling dizzy from the foreign emotions. He still didn’t understand what you were doing but it felt too good to keep questioning, forgetting momentarily about sin and how much punishment was going to come his way after this.
You were sliding your hands up his thighs slowly, stopping at the waistband of his boxers and glancing up at him for any sign of refusal. You didn’t care much for his discomfort but you weren’t going to force him to do anything, despite how much fun you were having with him.
He didn’t make any move to stop you, not even seeming to notice or understand what you were planning to do until you pulled on the elastic swiftly.
Then he was shooting back up from where he’d been leaning back, shaking his head again and covering himself with his hands. You smiled at him from your place on the floor and he looked at you like you were crazy.
You were getting slightly frustrated despite your pleased expression, wanting him to quickly understand what you were planning on doing. You gripped his wrist tightly and pulled them away from his lap
“What are you doing?” He was whispering in a panicked tone, his hands hovering above your head like he was debating pulling you away from him. He let out a yelp when you leaned forward and took the head of his cock into your mouth, watching him with hooded eyes. “T-that’s dirty, stop it.”
You wanted to laugh at his wording choices, sounding like he was a worried mother scolding their child for playing in mud.
“It’s dirty?” You frowned at him when you pulled back for a moment, his wide eyes falling on your wet lips. They squeezed shut just for a moment when you were licking up his full length slowly, humming at the taste of him and his weight on your tongue. “I should probably stop then right?”
He let out a panicked cry and ran a hand over his face in frustration. He wanted you to stop or at least he knew he should want you to stop. His mother had been right and you were not a nice girl, not the type of girl he should be around and he felt his stomach turn at the knowledge he was committing a very large sin by finding pleasure in your lust.
But the pleasure was prominent and overwhelming him to the point he couldn’t think straight.
He understood what sex was and his father had taught him about boyish lust, the kind that wakes you up from your sleep needing to change into a new pair of pajamas but he’d been warned from an early age to simply ignore the occurring urge.
He could still hear his mothers shrieks and cries when she caught him with a pillow between his legs in high school, could feel the welts on the back of his hands from the ruler his father had punished him with. Jake sometimes wondered if other people experienced this urge, this call to sin, as much as he did or if he was rotten inside.
But for the first time in his entire life, Jake couldn’t find it in himself to think about the consequences to falling victim to it. Not when you were touching him in ways not even his dreams could think to imagine.
When he didn’t answer you’d taken him back in your mouth, slightly impressed by how thick he was. He bucked forward his hips instinctively, pushing himself deeper into your mouth and you pinched his thigh roughly in warning.
You heard him cry out in a sob, his hands gripping the blankets so hard they were turning white and shaking at an almost alarming rate.
“Please.” He was begging and you weren’t sure he even knew what for, his voice coming out desperate and needy. “Please i-it feels really weird.”
You hummed around his cock in understanding, your hand petting his thigh and pushing his shirt up on his stomach so you could feel more of him. He didn’t even seem to register you touching him, the sounds of his soft cries and pleads distracting you slightly.
You tapped his hip bone a few times and he seemed to somehow understand the message, pushing his cock deeper into your mouth at a slower pace this time. You let him do what he wanted despite the urge to take control of the situation, knowing there wasn’t any chance he was lasting more than 30 seconds anyways.
He was slightly surprising you already, truthfully you’d expected him to cum before you even got his boxers off his thighs.
You imagined his inner monologue was causing him some issue as you listened to him cry softly from pleasure, little overwhelmed gasps and hiccups as one of his hands grabbed onto the one you were running across his stomach and squeezed it tightly.
“You need to just let it go baby.” You were whispering to him as you pulled off for a second when his hips started to twitch awkwardly, overwhelmed and not understanding what the feeling building up deep in his gut was. “Don’t worry about making a mess.”
The second you took him back in your lips he was following your instructions with a loud moan, completely forgetting you were meant to keep quiet as he came inside your warm mouth.
You winced slightly at the unexpectedness of it, leaning backwards on your knees as you waited for his hips to stop jerking forward.
He was shaking his head at you, eyes teary and his face red as he squinted his eyes in confusion. “What w-was -“
“You came.” You said matter of factly, standing up with a groan from your uncomfortable kneeling position and sitting next to him on the bed again. He leaned sideways into you, much to your surprise, and you resisted the urge to push him off you.
“Was I supposed to?” He whispered in embarrassment and pushed his face into your neck again. You were slightly uncomfortable at his clinginess but you let him do it, knowing he must be feeling a lot.
“Yes Jake. Maybe not all over my face though.” You were trying to joke with him to lighten the atmosphere but you sighed as you heard him let out a little cry into your neck, clearly upset and humiliated.
He was mumbling against your skin, repeated mantras that you couldn’t quite understood through his sobs but had a good guess in what they contained. You imagined reality was coming back to him now and he was processing what he’d just done without the hazy cloud of need cursing his judgement.
“Jake, you need to stop crying.” You were sighing and bringing your hand up to his hair, petting it softly to try to calm him down.
“Did I do a bad thing?” He pulled off your neck to look you in the eyes, his wide and desperate like he was fishing for any bit of reassurance that what you’d just done was okay, that he hadn’t just committed a sin so unholy. You could tell by his expression he was asking just to hear it reaffirmed, for you to tell him again it was just skin.
“My poor baby.” You were cooing at him, lips jutted out in a pout as your hands came up to hold his face, cupping it softly and wiping his teary cheeks with your thumbs. “Of course you did a bad thing.”
He froze completely in your hold and you felt a laugh bubble into your throat, holding it down with all your might so you could get the full extent of his reaction. He sat up slightly, attempting to pull out of your hands before realizing you were holding his face too tight. He gave you a confused and hurt look.
“What?” He was stammering out and his face was curling back into another sob.
“How could you let me do that?” You were tsking at him as you spoke, eyebrows furrowed like he had genuinely offended you. He watched you as panic settled into his eyes at the sound of you kissing your teeth and shaking your head softly. “We were supposed to be studying.”
“B-but.” He was shaking his head and holding onto your wrist, eyes filling with tears. “But you said that..”
He trailed off and you watched him with a raised eyebrow, waiting for him to pass the blame off onto you. Of course he didn’t, his expression hardening although you knew he hadn’t quite realized your motive. He was too innocent to believe you’d deceive him, too stupid to understand every action you did was a carefully crafted lie.
“Maybe it’s time you go Jakey.” You were nodding as you spoke, petting his hair and pushing it back out of his eyes.
He didn’t say anything else, his expression dazed out as he came out of such a vulnerable compliant headspace with a jolt. You watched him in silence as he gathered himself enough to get dressed awkwardly and walk out of your room, loose and tilting like he had just woken up.
You waited for him to be completely out of sight, the sound of the front door closing, before falling back on your bed with a big smile.
——
You’d fallen asleep soon after that without much thought on the situation, feeling only a deep satisfaction at the progress you’d made with Jake and a slight tinge of excitement for the next time you got to see him.
By the time you’d woken up, your mother was already in your room and standing staring down at you. You barely reacted to her presence although you were slightly unnerved and curious just how long she’d been watching you sleep.
“Can I help you?” Your voice was groggy as you sat up and pushed your bedridden hair out of your face.
Any other mother might have found your tired movements cute, maybe they’d give you an endeared smile and reminisce on when you were a baby waking up from naps.
However you were born with a very specific type of mother, maybe one of her kind. She was watching you with a nasty scowl, a knowing look in her eye as she did a slow pan around your room. “Your father said the boy was here yesterday.”
You hummed in agreement, tilting your head softly to try and get a further reaction from her.
“His mother called and said he won’t be at church this morning.” She spat the words at you, accusatory and nasty. “He’s sick.”
You could tell by the way she said that she knew it was a lie, wether Jake was the one telling it or his mother. At first you were slightly shocked he’d lie about being sick but you figured he might just be feeling so, driven by the extreme emotions he’d been feeling.
“What a shame. He seemed more than fine yesterday.” You put in a pity filled voice, shaking your head as you let the innuendo sink in for her, watching the way her face curled with disgust.
“Almost ready?” You father was suddenly in your doorway, observing the scene with a raised eyebrow as he buttoned the cuff of his sleeve.
“Father, would it be okay if I stopped by the Sim’s before heading to service? I’d like to bring Jake some soup for his cold.” Your voice was dripping with sweetness and you vaguely saw your mothers jaw tick with irritation.
“I can do it.” She was rushing to say.
Your father shook his head immediately and held a hand up to silence the both of you from speaking again. He finished buttoning his sleeve and cleared his throat before speaking. “You agreed to meet with the Lee’s today Mary. I think it’d be a good idea for Y/N to go, since they’re friends.”
You smiled appreciatively at him and he gave you a small nod before leaving the room. You glanced at your mother to see her stony expression but surprisingly she didn’t say anything, simply shaking her head in disapproval and following behind him.
It was strange to not leave for church with them, to stand in the window with the curtain pulled back as you smiled and waved watching the car drive off.
You dropped the grin the second they turned the street corner and hurried out the door to get on your bike and head over to the Sim’s house.
You hadn’t been there before despite your father pointing it out on your way home yesterday but it looked pretty much the exact same as the other houses in the neighborhood. It was large and eerie, the rainy atmosphere not helping it.
The door was opening before you could even dismount your bike let alone knock and you saw Jake’s mom standing in the archway with a small frown.
“What are you doing here?” Her tone was harsh and for a second you wondered if he had told her about what happened, confessed his sins in a fit of guilt.
You were so thrown off that you didn’t immediately respond, suddenly aware of the fact you didn’t bring any sort of soup or medicine like you had originally planned, too eager to get out the door to remember your cover story.
Lucky for you, Jake’s father was coming into sight now and a small grunt from him sent the rude woman cowering away.
You observed this with a curious expression and tried not to frown. Maybe Jake wasn’t as innocent and pure as he seemed considering he apparently had some familial issues, obvious in the way his mother showed a fearful obedience to the large man in front of you.
“You here for my boy?” His voice was low and gruff and it was a bit remarkable how different Jake was than his father.
You opted for a small nod, only slightly playing a part considering he actually did a good job at intimidating you. He let out a hum of approval and stepped aside so you could enter the house, not asking anymore questions.
“It’s good you two get along.” You were taking in the main living space as you entered, his voice picking up a conversational tone that sounded slightly unnatural. “I was beginning to think he’d never talk to someone his own age, let alone a girl.”
He had a typical mannish tone, one you’d heard in movies or from the gross men who sat outside the town bar in a drunken haze as they catcalled and talked at a volume far too loud for your small town. It lacked the usual religious hold you were more used to, he almost sounded pleased at the idea of his son being with a girl.
You glanced at him and held his stare. You wondered for a second if he was testing you now, waiting for you to reveal any sinful intentions you had so he could run back to your father and earn some brownie points for catching your sickness in the act.
He raised an eyebrow at you as you cocked your head, willing him to talk further and continue in his attempt at baiting you.
“Upstairs on the right.” He eventually said, your stare unrelenting. You unfroze your stony expression and gave him a small smile, knowing you probably looked crazy with how fast your face changed.
You were walking away from him before he could say anything else or before Jake’s mother could return, skipping a step at a time in your haste to get upstairs.
Without knocking, you pushed open his door and barged in.
He was sat up in bed, lower half under the covers, and he let out a small shriek of surprise at your sudden intrusion, furthered by a quick inhale when he realized who it was that had just walked in.
“W-what are you doing here?” He was rushing out as he watched you close the door behind you and sit down on the end of his bed.
“I came to check on you.” You said it like it was obvious, a soft shrug of your shoulders. “Since you’re sick.”
His mouth parted in confusion for a second before he seemingly remembered he was meant to be ill, looking awkward and guilty at the reminder he had lied.
You didn’t address his obvious reaction, telling you what you already assumed, and instead climbed up further on his bed. He made a strange noise when you got closer to him, pulling back the blankets and getting underneath them with him. You briefly caught sight of his plaid pajama pants before you covered the both of you up.
“M-my parents.” He was shaking his head and anxiously looking at the door like he was waiting for his mom to walk in any second. You watched his distress, wondering if he was possibly hoping for that to happen, before you heard the sound of the front door slamming.
A look of fear passed over his face at the realization his parents had just left him alone with you. You were a bit surprised yourself but you kept your face neutral, watching him to drink up his reaction.
“I came all this way and you can’t even say thank you.” You tsked and relaxed against his pillows with an annoyed expression. “Especially after what you did yesterday.”
He looked upset at the reminder and he was sitting up more now, the blanket pulling forward around his thighs and he practically kneeled and titled forward in your direction. He wasn’t touching you but his hands were clasped together as he practically did a full bow on his bed.
“I’m so sorry.” He started to say the words but his voice broke around them and he rocked slightly back and forth. You almost laughed at the fact he was already about to cry and it’d only been about five minutes alone with you. “Thank you for coming.”
You imagined he’d been doing a lot of crying since you saw him last, staying up all night running your words on loop in his mind. The sincerity in your voice when you told him he committed a disgusting sin.
“Get back under the covers.” You spoke in a calm voice and he picked his head up to look at you in confusion, face red and eyes teary. He looked surprised you weren’t scolding him, having seemingly forgotten you were the one who practically forced him to let you touch him.
He stayed frozen like that for a few seconds before snapping back to reality and nodding appreciatively, getting back under the blankets and pulling them up again so you were covered. He seemed to only now realize you were laying back against the pillows and he mirrored you, laying on his side so he could face you.
“I won’t tell anybody what you did.” You whispered to him now that his attention was fully on you. Your hand came up to hold his face and he tensed for a second at the contact. “Or maybe I will… I haven’t decided.”
He shook his head hastily, scooting closer to your body and grabbing ahold of your hand that was on his face, wrapping both of his around your wrist and squeezing it softly in desperation.
“Y-you can’t.” He urged and you felt his hands shaking around yours. “I mean you can b-but I’m really so sorry and my dad, he’d kill me.”
You shushed him as he started to ramble, petting his cheek and frowning deeply at what he had said. You figured Jake’s dad hurt his mother but you hadn’t considered it extending to his child as well. A strange surge of anger ran through you despite your own twisted intentions.
Scooting down a bit more so you were completely laid down, you put a hand on his back and pulled him towards you until he got the hint and curled into your side with a soft cry. He was stuffing his face back into your neck like he did yesterday and you rubbed his back softly.
You vaguely acknowledged the fact he was completely pressed against your side now, almost laying half on top of you in his emotional state.
“I won’t tell.” You whispered, his soft and messy hair tickling your face as you spoke. In his desperation for comfort he seemed to forget about not touching you, his arm coming up to wrap around your stomach, tugging you closer in a rush of thankfulness and your eyebrows raised in surprise. “But only if you answer my questions.”
He nodded immediately and picked his head up off your neck so he could look at you more clearly. He looked particularly cute like this you decided, his hair unstyled and still sticking up from where he’d slept on it and his soft pajamas that were rubbing against your legs.
“Did you touch yourself last night.” You held his chin as you spoke so he was looking up at you, his head almost resting against your chest as he peered with big wet eyes.
He was shaking his head as much as he could and furrowing his eyebrows like he did the last time you asked him. “I don’t- I wouldn’t. I don’t know how even.”
This fascinated you slightly. You figured he didn’t understand masturbating or its purpose outside of it being sinful but the fact he’d never once curiously touched himself was interesting. You wondered how many nights he laid in bed crying with confusion at the dull ache between his legs.
“Did you like being in my mouth?” Your voice dropped lower for the second question and an automatic whine slipped out from his lips, his face immediately flushing with embarrassment as he seemed to replay the memory.
He was nodding hesitantly much to your annoyance, you wanted to hear him say it but you figured you could take it easy on him today.
Maybe easy wasn’t the best way to describe your current plan for him considering the way you were suddenly pressing your thigh in between his legs, smiling at him when he groaned loudly and tightened his grip on you.
Your side burned slightly from the force in which he curled his hands up at the sudden contact.
“You’re hard.” You said matter of factly, telling the truth and not just teasing him. He was solid against your thigh now and you heard him whimper when you shifted slightly so his tight grip on you was more comfortable. “I barely said anything and you’re hard.”
He shook his head in disagreement but his hips twitched forward, rubbing his erection against you and making a low drawn out sound at the feeling.
“Did I say you could do that?” Your tone was harsh again and he immediately froze, groaning softly and tucking his head forward onto your chest. You let your hand go back to this hair, petting him for a second before gripping it tightly and tugging his head back up to look at you.
He winced at the pain, face contorted as he tried to scoot away from you. However he still didn’t remove his arm from around your stomach so he wasn’t able to go far, his hand still kneading against your side like he didn’t realize he was even moving it.
“Ask me.” You instructed him, still holding his hair in a tight fist. “Clear words, no crying bullshit.”
He looked momentarily taken back by you swearing and being so harsh but then he had a look of guilt like he was remembering the other day and he was attempting to nod in head in agreement.
“Please I want… I want you to touch me.” He settled on, not sure how to word what he needed. You smiled softly at him for his attempt but you weren’t convinced, deciding on helping him ask you properly.
“Tell me you’re disgusting.” You whispered, leaning your face forward so your nose was touching his again, like it did momentarily yesterday. “Say you want to hump my leg like a dog.”
He looked confused and overwhelmed at your words, shaking his head in refusal until you moved your leg again. It rubbed against him and you almost laughed at the fact he was almost harder now even after your tone changed. His hips chased the feeling and you tugged his hair again in warning, listening to his soft groan of frustration.
“I want..” He hiccuped softly and shook his head, trying to force the strange words from his mouth. “I want to hump your leg please please.”
You let go of his hair and his head fell back down onto your chest. He hadn’t completely fulfilled your request but it was good enough for now.
“Alright baby.” You didn’t need to say anything else for him to understand, immediately pulling you closer again and rocking against your side.
You listened to his soft little whines as he humped against you desperately, moving in messy motions as he tried to chase after the feeling he recognized from yesterday.
The feeling of his hand gripping your side was making your head spin a bit much to your irritation and you gripped it tightly, moving it off your waist. He seemed to misunderstand and instead placed it directly over your belly button where your sweater had ridden up, pushing down softly as he rubbed the soft skin of your stomach.
You let out a small groan and this seemed to ignite something in him because he let out a little cry and nuzzled further into you as he dragged his clothed cock over your hip harder.
“Tell me it feels good.” You instructed him and you felt more annoyance at the fact your voice came out breathy, not liking the effect he was having on you.
“S-so good.” He immediately responded and you felt his leg wrap around yours, trying to get closer to you despite it being impossible. “Going to die it’s good, it’s good.”
You laughed softly at his dramatic wording and pet his hair again, trying to get his attention. He slowed down the grinding of his hips to look at you and you nearly cooed at his hooded wet eyes, trying to focus on your face but struggling.
You were originally planning on teasing him some more, attempting to get him to repeat the words you wanted to hear earlier, but at the sight of his pretty overwhelmed face you couldn’t help yourself from leaning in and kissing him softly.
He yelped at the feeling, tensing up for a few seconds before closing his eyes and trying to kiss you back, failing miserably.
You laughed against his lips and you could feel him frowning, face getting red with embarrassment as he uncomfortably shifted against you.
“Come here.” You tapped his back softly and nudged him so he was fully on top of you, squishing you under him but making it so you could reach his mouth better. “Rub your cock on me while we kiss.”
He whined softly, nodding his head despite the flush on his face and you waited while he slowly experimented with the new position, practically in missionary now. When he started to move his hips again, his hard cock was now rubbing directly against your core and he faltered at the feeling, nearly collapsing on top of you.
You smiled at his reaction. You had full doubt that he knew what sex was or the fact he was basically imitating it but you imagine he could get the gist that what you were doing was wrong.
You leaned your head forward to kiss him again, easier now that he was on top of you and seemingly more eager to get it right this time. He was still sloppy, not really understanding how to move his mouth or when but you took over, moving your lips against his slowly.
He seemed to get the hang of it eventually and you could feel his thrust getting more desperate as the kiss got deeper and faster.
Your tongue was in his mouth before he even realized and he made a small startled sound, hips stopping against yours at the new feeling. He was letting out high pitched whines and moans as you licked into his mouth, him drooling slightly and desperately trying to keep your tongue where it was.
You could feel him sucking on it, twisting his head to try to get it deeper in his mouth and he instinctively gave a particularly hard thrust, causing you to moan into him.
This seemed to startle him, pulling back off your face with a wet chin and hooded eyes, looking down at you in amazement.
He did it again experimentally and you could feel the hard print of his cock directly against you, your back arching as your hand came up to grip his hair and stop him from doing it again. You were reminding yourself this wasn’t about your pleasure, you wanted to ruin him and nothing else.
But you couldn’t deny your attraction to him, almost the perfect boy for you if there was to ever be one.
It didn’t help he happened to have an impressive size on him, although you doubted he even realized he was bigger than usual or would know what to do if given that information.
You wrapped a leg around his side and he sucked in a breath, having better access now. He kept rolling his hips sloppily into you and moaning loudly, forgetting who he was or where he was currently at.
“What would mommy think if she saw you like this?” You took it upon yourself to remind him, whispering into his mouth with a pant and almost laughing at the way he immediately tensed and stopped humping against you. “If she walked it to see her son so desperate to sin.”
He was shaking his head and lifting it slightly to be able to look at you better, eyes welling up with tears as he glanced back over his shoulder at the closed door. You hadn’t been there long and you imagined church still had a few hours before it’d be over and they’d be heading back but he seemed to forget all this at the mention of his parents.
“I’m not.” His hair was messy in his face, bangs slightly damp from sweating and his previous tears. “I don’t want to sin, I don’t want to be bad. Please.”
You hummed softly at him, lips forming a mocking pout as you looked at him with gentle eyes. You stroked his cheek and he closed his eyes, leaning against your hand like a puppy.
“My poor baby.” You cooed and kissed him again briefly, he immediately chased after it when you pulled away and you tapped your finger on his cheek to stop him. “You have no idea what I’m going to do to you.”
He seemed confused at what you meant but too drunk on the feeling of your touch and lips, chasing after them again in a messy kiss that was mostly just him trying to get his tongue back against yours.
You indulged him and let him lick into it, letting out soft desperate moans and you were suddenly realizing how much you were aching for him despite managing to keep a cool demeanor on the outside.
You shifted your leg that was wrapped around his middle and he seemed to remember that he was currently on top of you and he went back to writhing against your body, his hard on rubbing against you an almost painful amount now that you were granting him more access with the switched position.
He wasn’t able to hold himself up, curling up on your chest while he moved his lower body with sobs of pain and need.
“God, I thought it’d take longer to break you.” You were trying to make fun of him but your voice broke in a moan at the feeling of him pushing himself against your sensitive clit. “You’re so fucking nasty, look at yourself.”
He was shaking his head and crying fully now, chasing after a high he didn’t even understand and you were almost feeling dizzy from the pace he was going.
“I’m good.” He was blabbering out and looking at you again, trying to lean forward for a kiss but letting out a sharp cry midway and falling back down with his head on your chest.
“You’re a good boy Jake.” You cooed at him, nodding even though he couldn’t see you and he felt sick at the constant changing of your tones. “My good boy right?”
He was suddenly sitting up again, pulling himself against you so he could look at you directly in the eye, if he could see through his tears. He was nodding his head in earnest and you felt your lip quirk up in a smile.
“I’m yours. I want to be yours.” He was rushing out, hands leaving your stomach to balance on either side of you. His tone was pleading and you wondered if he even knew what he was asking for or if he was just repeating what you’d said dumbly.
You kissed him softly and he let out a shaky breath of relief against your lips. However he started to frown when you were suddenly pushing him off of you and patting the empty space on the bed right beside where you were laying. He looked confused and hurt but he didn’t ask any questions, simply rolling over and waiting to see what you were attempting to do.
You watched him for a few seconds, taking in the change of appearance in such a short amount of time.
He was laid back fully on the bed, eyes hooded and cloudy. His mouth was parted slightly as he panted, his chest rising and falling at a fast speed as his arm reached up to try and push his messy hair out of his face. You liked the way he looked like this, especially the way his shirt was ridden up on his stomach, a sliver of skin showing.
He started making small impatient whines and groans so you took mercy on him, flipping yourself over slightly so you could situate yourself on his lap.
You sucked in a breath the second you did, quickly shutting your lips tight after so he didn’t catch sight of the display of pleasure. He was hard underneath and pressed tightly against your core as you sat on him.
“Oh my god.” He was crying out and his hands jutted forward like he was going to grab your sides, stopping midway and flailing around as he didn’t know what he was meant to do with them.
“Touch me.” You spat at him, reaching down to grab his wrist and put his hands on your ass as you leaned forward so you were in a similar position to his a few minutes ago, laying on top of him.
He froze as he touched you and you almost scolded him for acting so prudish with touching you like he wasn’t just trying to fuck you through his cute little pajamas. However you figured it was harder for him to deliberately do something versus acting purely on the overwhelming lust he was feeling.
You gripped his jaw harshly in your hand, your nails digging into his skin slightly as you used your thumb to pull his mouth open and hummed with satisfaction.
“Say you want me inside you.” You whispered, leaning down to talk into his open mouth. You watched his eyes widen in confusion but you rubbed your hips against him as motivation and he immediately complied.
“Want you inside me.” He moaned out, big fat tears sliding down his face. “Y/N please I need it please.”
He didn’t even know what he was asking for but he was overwhelmed and sinking back down into that fuzzy headspace, willing to do anything to get pleasure from you.
You kept his mouth open after he was done speaking and he opened it wider for you, although not understanding where you were heading with this action. He watched with wide confused eyes as you leaned over him and slowly spit into his open mouth.
He cried out, hips bucking up instinctively at the sensation of your spit on his tongue so directly and you almost fell forward from the roughness in which he fucked himself up into you. You smacked his cheek lightly and he snapped his mouth shut with another moan, eyes shut in euphoria.
You hummed at him in approval, leaning back down to kiss him again and lick into his mouth, letting him turn his head sideways in an attempt to get your tongue as deep as possible. You wondered if he was purposely imitating the blowjob you’d given him or if he was just that desperate to be consumed.
“I’m going to take you to hell with me.” You whispered, pulling out of the kiss and petting his hair softly. He shook his head and let out a small sob, this time not from pleasure.
“Do you want to cum?” You didn’t address his denial or tease him further for now, knowing now you had him completely hooked. He was addicted to you and the feelings you gave him and no mean words would be able to keep him away from you.
He seemed hesitant in his nod, now once again thinking about the sins he was committing and the fact he was skipping church to touch a girl inappropriately. But he did eventually nod his head, eyes still watering.
“Then fuck me baby.” You rolled back over as you spoke, flopping onto your back and rubbing his chest through his shirt, slightly surprised by the thick build he had. He was immediately on top of you again and you almost laughed at his haste.
You didn’t mean it literally and you didn’t fear him taking it as such considering he didn’t even know what it meant, he just knew you were cursing and being dirty.
You wondered if he even knew what you had inside your pants, scrapping that idea for another time instead so you didn’t get yourself too worked up thinking about how much it would ruin him to feel you.
He didn’t last long once he was back on top of you, only a few seconds passed before he was letting out a loud cry and hiccuping, his hips jutting against you a few more times in aftershock before he was collapsing on top of you.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He was sobbing into your neck and you wrapped your arms around his back, rubbing it slowly with an eye roll. “I’m sorry, God please forgive me.”
——
Jake had fallen asleep on top of you shortly after that, exhausted from everything you’d been putting him through both mentally and physically.
You let him lay there on top of you surprisingly despite how uncomfortable it was and how much you kept readying yourself to shove him off of you and leave him without any comfort, you simply couldn’t.
You weren’t quite sure why, it wasn’t like being mean to him was going to ruin your plan and make him not want to talk to you anymore. He was trapped now with you.
Yet you found yourself staying and not only staying but watching him as he slept. He looked younger like this, despite always being very puppy like and boyish you couldn’t deny that Jake was a man and he could be an intimidating one if it wasn’t for his personality. His eyelashes were long and fluttering like he was having a vigorous dream and his back would rise and fall with every deep inhale he took.
By the time he woke up you’d been laying there for probably an hour or two staring at him or looking around his room with curiosity, you felt him shifting against you and almost pretended you were asleep before deciding against it.
He froze his movements when he realized where he was exactly, or at least who it was underneath him. Then he was rolling off of you onto his back with a groan and you were suddenly feeling very cold without his weight and body warmth.
“Did my parents come home?” His voice was low and groggy from sleep and crying and you turned your head to look at him now that you were laying side by side.
“Are you kidding? Like your mother isn’t going to run in here the first second the car parks and hose you down.”
He laughed softly at your words, almost a scoff and your lip quirked up in a smile at his casual reaction, knowing his guard must be down since he was still so tired.
“She wouldn’t do that.” He eventually whispered and you could feel his shoulder pressing against yours. “At least the hose part.”
“Is she as bad as mine?” You weren’t sure what prompted you to ask him something so personal or why you were even making conversation with him in the first place but you were suddenly curious.
“Not sure.” He was looking at you, you could feel it on the side of your head. “My dad is though.”
You hummed as a response, already figuring that from the times you’d interacted with him and the way Jake talked about him earlier. You felt a sudden wave of discomfort at your current situation and fidgeted in your spot on the bed.
“Are you going to leave?” His voice was a whisper still and he wasn’t looking at you anymore from what you could tell. He sounded slightly upset like the thought of you leaving wasn’t pleasant.
“You wanted me to earlier.” You scoffed softly but it was humorless, for some reason feeling offended at the reminder despite knowingly doing everything in your power to make him uncomfortable for your own satisfaction.
He didn’t say anything for a while and you listened to him breathing softly, wondering if he caught on to the hint of insecurity you were accidentally showcasing.
“Well… I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.” He eventually said and you barely heard him considering how low his voice had gotten.
“See you tomorrow Jake.”
——
Tuesday’s were another day that your schedule was slightly shifted after church service. You had always been instructed to some form of community service on that day of the week, wether is be picking up trash or teaching a small class to the elders and children.
You didn’t mind this despite your distaste for religion. You got some sick satisfaction from watching religious people interact, like babies excitedly chatting about fairy tails and wishing for a big grand gesture to fix their own shitty lives.
Plus it got you out of your house and kept you slightly on the good side of your mother typically although you doubt with your recent actions you’d ever be on that side of the fence again.
So it was particularly annoying when you were tasked to clean the church basement, an area usually unseen by anybody in the town including yourself.
It was a mess of overfilled shelves and baskets stacked to the brim with old holiday decorations or donations from past families that were never put to use.
You’d been hesitant to agree, having to try ten times harder than usual to apply your usual fake smile towards your father when you graciously nodded and accepted the task. Luckily a handful of other volunteers had also followed you down the creaky stairs, one of them being Jake.
Not on his own volition considering the way his eyes bulged out of his head when his father roughly nudged him as you stood at the center of the stage requesting helping hands. He hesitantly held his in the air and avoided making eye contact with you as you smiled happily.
The same smile you held now as you stood side by side with him, taking things off the shelves and throwing them into a trash pile. He looked more anxious than usual, like he was genuinely worried you’d try to do something to him while people were watching.
“Miss Y/N?” One of the older women who had volunteered was approaching the two of you, holding a small basket of, what looked like, old arts and crafts. “I found this and was wondering if you thought your father might want to hang them up in the youth study room?”
“I think that’s a wonderful idea ma’am.” You were smiling widely at her, eyes soft and full of light. “You should bring them up to him.”
She was smiling appreciatively at you before turning and heading back up the stairs, missing the way your smile immediately dropped back into a blank expression.
Jake however, didn’t miss it and you heard him scoff from next to you as he observed the interaction. You glanced at him with a raised eyebrow and he shrugged.
“Don’t you get tired of doing that all the time?” He questioned and you faltered slightly. You hadn’t ever really considered it as something you were doing necessarily so his statement threw you off.
“I don’t know… I do it with everybody. I just do it.” You shrugged and awkwardly looked away from him, feeling confronted.
“You don’t do it with me.” He suddenly declared and you were reminded that you didn’t actually know Jake or his personality that well, completely caught off guard by his bluntness.
“Maybe because I knew you were just as bad as me.” You dropped your voice into a small whisper, leaning closer to him slightly as he glanced around to see which volunteers were over in your side of the basement.
He picked up an old toy and tossed it off in the distance, shaking his head in denial. “That’s not true at all.”
“Why isn’t it?” You cocked your head at him and stopped rummaging through the shelf, more interested in what he was saying. You turned your body so you were facing him and could lean against the wood.
“I believe in this.” He looked around the room as if to emphasize what he was referring to. “I love god.”
“Do you? Or have you just been told to?” You were already sure of the answer but you were curious what he would say about that, if he’s ever sat and thought that over or if his faith was really that unwavering.
“I never questioned it before.” He confirmed with a stern voice, sending you a sharp look so you would understand he was serious. “Not once in my life until we moved here. Not once until..”
He trailed off but the implication was heavy and he looked away with a bright flush on his face. He was obviously referring to you and you felt a small spark of satisfaction at the fact he was implying you were the first thing to ever make him doubt, implying that he was doubting at all.
He scowled slightly when he noticed the bright smile that was on your face, one you didn’t even realize you had.
“I’m serious Y/N. If anyone ever found out I…” He didn’t finish his sentence again but you could get the gist of what he was implying, your smile dropping into a frown.
“You think I don’t know that? The stakes are way higher on my side of things incase you forgot.” Your tone was harsher now but you were taking a step closer to him, not bothering to check if anybody was watching. “But you’re mine right? Like you said?”
He didn’t say anything for a minute, turning to face you and taking a big gulp when he realized you were practically close enough to kiss now. You waited for him to say something against your claim, to tell you he had been lust drunk or he didn’t mean it.
Instead he slowly nodded, eyes shooting down awkwardly to your feet. His shy expression was one you were more familiar seeing him with and your smile returned.
“Can you come over today?” You whispered and he looked back at you with a shocked expression, clearly not expecting you to say that. “I have something to show you.”
He was nodding again, not trusting himself to speak without stuttering and you grinned, turning back to the shelf and continuing with your sorting.
——
By the time church was over and Jake got to your house, you were already sat outside on the porch in a big sweater and a scarf wrapped around your neck.
“Are we not.. going in?” He was standing at the end of your driveway, putting his bikes kickstand down and watching you with a confused expression.
“I said I had to show you something didn’t I?” He watched you as you stood from the cement slab, grabbing your own bike from off the side of your house and walking it down towards him with a half smile.
He didn’t say anything as you both got on your bikes, following behind you as you rode off the curb and down the street.
The ride was long and cold, the sky grey as you passed by old houses and empty shops that’d been abandoned as the owners aged. Jake found the town sad a bit but he was curious what you were leading him too and slightly excited that you wanted to spend time with him in a different way than normal.
Eventually you were crossing the threshold of the city limit, a big sign with chipping paint that was welcoming you in or wishing you safe travels out.
After that it wasn’t long before you were slowing to a stop, surrounded by trees and a large field. Jake watched you get off your bike with a raised eyebrow, waiting until you looked back at him with a beckoning hand.
“It’s this way.” You urged and he hopped off, pushing the bikes alongside each other until you were on the other side of the muddy field, approaching a large river. The sound of it was loud as it rushed but not loud enough to block out the noise of the highway across from it, just off in the distance.
Jake watched it as you unpacked your backpack that he didn’t even realize you’d been wearing until now, unfolding a thick blanket and laying it down on the wet grass.
“They can’t build houses over here because the river always overflows.” You started to explain, pulling out a thermos and something wrapped in paper towel as you talked. “The water levels higher than usual because all the rain we get.”
“Sometimes I wonder if they even know we are over here.” You continued with a scoff, sitting criss cross on the blanket now and looking over at Jake who was dropping his bike.
He sat down too, carefully keeping his wet and muddy shoes off of the fabric.
“Do you come here a lot?” He was muttering what felt like his first words of the day, looking around the area and seeing virtually no signs of civilization other than the highway. He wondered for a second if you had even been able to hear him over the sound of it.
“I guess. There isn’t much else to do if you haven’t noticed by now.” You were shrugging as you spoke, you stuck one of your legs out so it nudged against his.
“I’ve been pretty occupied since I’ve gotten here so I guess I didn’t.” His words made you laugh although he was being serious, only having gone from home to church to your room.
He didn’t say anything as you laughed and he still didn’t when you were suddenly moving out of your sitting position, crawling towards him on all fours until you could press yourself against him.
Every part of you was touching as you sat side by side, both facing the rushing river and trying to not focus on how cold it was outside, the sky slowly darkening now since it was around dinner time. That reminded you that you had packed sandwiches and you were leaning forward slightly to reach them, handing him one and watching him unwrap the paper towel in confusion.
His cheeks turned red when he saw what it was, glancing at you and nodding softly in appreciation before taking a bite.
“Why are we here?” He was breaking the silence the two of you had fallen into as you ate and passed the warm thermos back and forth, watching the highway and the building traffic.
“I don’t know.” You felt strangely vulnerable at this question, not really knowing yourself why you’d taken him to such a private place. “Don’t think too deeply about it.”
Your sudden change of tone made him frown and tense against you, a harshness seeping into your words as you reminded him what type of relationship you had going here.
To further prove your point that this wasn’t anything being sin and attraction, you were quickly turning your upper body so you could face him before leaning forward and pressing into a kiss. He froze completely for a few seconds, brain short circuiting at the sudden contact.
Then he was closing his eyes slowly and kissing you back, a low him of appreciation slipping through your lips and vibrating against his.
You turned your body more so you could climb over his legs, straddling him and making a small noise of surprise when his hands were immediately on your lower back, tugging you in tighter against him.
The two of you kissed like that for a while, you sitting comfortably in his lap and feeling him grow hard underneath you embarrassingly quick. He felt strong and sturdy under you but he was letting out little whines and whimpers and he kept trying to pull you in closer, almost like he was trying to merge the two of you together.
Then you were sitting up on your knees and tugging your long skirt up so it was bunched around your hips, mouth parting slightly at the feeling of the cold air nipping at your bare skin. He watched you with confusion, eyes darting around your legs so fast he felt dizzy.
You sat back down on his hard on, now only separated by his jeans and your underwear and he let out a low moan, shooting forward and ducking his head forward into your neck.
“Y/N.” He whined out and you shushed him, petting his hair and rocking your hips slowly against him, liking the way his mouth parted against your skin as he took deep shuddering breaths.
“I want you to feel me.” You were whispering into his hair and he picked his up in alarm, shaking his head and glancing down at your exposed lap.
“I- I don’t know how.” He was rushing out and you laughed softly, reaching down to grab his wrist off the blanket and pick his hand up.
You placed it against your stomach like it was the other day when he was pressing on it absentmindedly, letting him feel the smooth skin above your underwear line for a while before pushing his hand down slightly past the elastic and listening to his gasp.
You were still rocking against him but slower now, letting him feel you for the first time at his own pace and trying not to overwhelm him.
His hand was shaking fast, from the cold and nerves. You imagined he could feel his own hand pressing against his cock as he kept moving it down, trapping it between the both of you. You dipped down again when he hesitatingly stopped moving it once he was fully in your underwear and he let out a cry at the feeling of your wetness against his skin.
“W-what?” He was crying out in concern, eyes shooting up to look at yours. “Are you okay? Are you bleeding?”
“I’m wet.” You explained to him with a breathy voice despite the fact you knew he didn’t understand what that would mean or if it was good or bad. “Means I feel good, you make me feel good.”
That seemed to alarm him more than the idea of you bleeding, his hand instinctively twitching and pressing against you. You leaned down to kiss him again and he reciprocated, forgetting his hand was on you for a few seconds before you were lowering your hips again.
He wasn’t doing anything but just the feeling of his large hands cupping you was making you feel dizzy, rocking against him again despite the strange noise he let out.
“Touch me baby c’mon.” He looked up at you at the sound of your urging, eyes big and wet. He looked nervous but he hesitatingly moved his fingers, curling slightly and pressing against your clit. You let out a cry and he immediately froze, mistaking it for pain. “No Jake, it’s okay do it again.”
He didn’t look sure but he followed your instructions anyways, curling his hand up and being amazed by the way you threw your head back in a small cry.
The two of you seemed to forget about your surroundings, about the rushing lake or the freezing air that was only making the cold grass more bitter to sit in. You almost forgot who you were or the fact you were only a few minutes outside of town, practically riding Jake in a field visible to anyone who cared.
“You’re so pretty.” You remarked and he frowned at your gentle word causing you to lean forward and kiss him softly. “I want to keep you forever.”
You were too lust drunk to think about the heavy implication of your words or the fact saying them went against everything you’d previously been attempting. The whole reason you’d even started touching him today was to distract him from the fact you’d taken him to a place personal to you, to make him forget your act of kindness.
“You can keep me.” He was stuttering out in a high voice, not really sure if you meant what you were saying considering how confusing he found you, how strange this whole situation was.
Jake had accepted at some point that his life was changing now and for some reason, god had put you in his path. At first he figured you were some type of test of faith, if he could just ignore you and your evil nature then he’d be able to prove he was a good man, a holy man. But he began to wonder eventually if you were truly as terrible as he originally thought, as his mother kept remarking every time his father wasn’t in the room.
You made him cry and you occasionally would say terrible things to him. And it was no doubt you had a habit of sinning and making him sin, even when he didn’t want to.
But he thought you were kind at other times and he could tell by the way you zoned out in church during service and were nice to the young residents or helpful to the old, that you didn’t have no emotion. Maybe you were right, although you had a twisted way of teaching him about it.
You were leaning down to kiss him again and he was taking his hand out of your underwear, wiping it on his pants briefly before cupping your face in both his palms and keeping you there.
“Did I ruin you?” You were muttering against his panting mouth with a small smile, hands petting his hair affectionately.
“Almost.” He answered with a slight laugh, kissing you again.
——
By the time you and Jake had left the field, giggling together while you stuffed the wet blanket back into your backpack and jumped over mud puddles, the sun was set and gone.
You followed the streetlights home, walking the bikes side by side the entire time so the 20 minute ride turned into an hour walk.
You went a few streets without talking for a while, listening to the sounds of your tires rolling over gravel or the music nature provided from the surrounding woods just off in the distance. By the time you were crossing back into city limits and setting your sights on the abandoned buildings on the outskirts of town, your curiosity was weighing on you.
“Why did you move here anyways?” You were mumbling on accident so you weren’t sure he had heard you until he cleared his throat.
“A council member caught dad hitting mom.” He said it casually and you wondered if he was used to it or it was a practiced tone. “I guess they thought it’d look bad to punish him there so they sent us away.”
“Does he hit you too?” You weren’t sure why you asked that considering you were already pretty positive of the answer.
“Yeah sometimes.” He shrugged and tried not to fidget at the feeling of you watching him, kicking at a loose rock in the gravel road. “I think he’s mad I’m not very manly.”
“I think you’re manly.” You were frowning and furrowing your eyebrows, only deepening when you heard him let out a disbelieving scoff. “I’m serious.”
And you were. Despite Jake’s outwardly timid personality and the way he basically turned into a nervous obedient puppy everytime you got your hands on him, he was clearly a man. Both in his broad athletic build and in his day to day actions and personality. He was blunt and honest, telling you what he felt even if he thought it might anger you.
“Yeah, whatever.” He was whispering, still not trusting what you were saying and you froze in your tracks, stood directly under a streetlight. He slowed to a stop when he realized you were walking anymore and looked back at you in confusion.
“You wouldn’t have picked on me if I was manly.” He was explaining once he caught sight of your frustrated expression. “You probably wouldn’t have even noticed me.”
“You think I’m picking on you?” You ignored his second statement for now, eyes darkening at the implication of the first.
You weren’t sure why it struck a nerve within you considering he wasn’t half wrong. You had originally sought him out as a victim for you, an experiment or a game. Maybe even a way to further upset your mother, but you didn’t think he thought you were picking on him entirely.
“I don’t know what to think.” He was shaking his head and his eyes looked sad. He started to push his bike again and you rushed to catch up with him. “This is just confusing.”
“Well I’m not.” You kept your voice firm in an attempt to assure him and he didn’t say anything else, sparing you a long glance before looking back forward so he didn’t accidentally hit a pothole.
The two of you didn’t talk anymore after that, walking in a comfortable silence as you slowly got to a more familiar area for him and he realized you were slowly approaching his neighborhood. You must be planning on dropping him off before making you own way home he decided.
Those plans were quickly halted when you turned the corner of his street and saw your own parents car in his driveway, right next to the Sim’s. You both froze in place and stared in front of you in horror.
“Maybe it’s a coincidence.” He whispered and you jumped at the sudden sound of his voice, the words shaking slightly. “We can tell them we got caught up studying at the park.”
“If they’re here they already know.” You immediately stated in a flat voice, having a sick gut feeling as you looked at the two cars. The lights were on in Jake’s living room and you could vaguely make out multiple shadows walking around inside. “I don’t understand.”
“Maybe your dad heard something the other day.” He was rushing out in a hush, looking at you and your uncharacteristically frozen figure. He’d never seen you scared before and it made his skin crawl. “Or that lady in the basement.”
“No that’s not possible, I was-“ Your words faltered and you sucked in a panicked breath, trying to recall the two incidents he was talking about. You had been so caught up in your giddiness to talk to him that you hadn’t paid attention to your surroundings this morning at all, saying damning idiotic things to him in the church of all places.
His hand was coming up and brushing against your arm that was covered in goosebumps. “Go home. I’ll think of a cover for you, I’ll handle it.”
You looked at him with big eyes, suddenly overwhelmed by his presence and the fact he was willingly to lie for you so easily, willing to sin to both his parents and yours so you could be spared from punishment.
“I can’t leave you with them.” You were shaking your head in earnest and he deflated, understanding immediately there was no way of talking you out of it.
You both stood there for a few more beats, staring at each other under the street light and you briefly wondered if you’d see him again after this. You weren’t sure what your parents knew or if they were just following a strong hunch but you knew it didn’t matter. The second they suspected anything, atleast the men, you wouldn’t be allowed to see Jake anymore.
Eventually he took the first step, setting his bike down at the corner of the street and nudging for you to follow suit although you gave him a confused glance.
Following closely behind him, you tried to match his slow casual pace approaching the door and almost felt like you were going to throw up on the porch when he pushed it open without knocking, deciding to not give them any warning you were approaching.
The sight was just as dreadful as you imagined it would be, your parents sat on the Sim’s old couch while his were standing at attention and listening to whatever it was your father had been saying before your arrival.
All heads turned in your direction when you entered, half looking surprised you were together and the others showing no reaction. Your mother was immediately leaping up from the couch and approaching you with a scowl.
You felt her hand hitting your cheek before you even processed she was crossing the room, your head shooting sideways as your own palms came up to grasp your face in shock. Despite your differences, your mother had never directly struck you.
“You’re a disgrace.” She spat, literally, in your direction and you vaguely saw Jake flinch in your direction like he wanted to grab you. “No more games little girl, they finally see what I have all these years.”
One glance in your fathers direction told you she was telling the truth. He’d never been a good father but he wasn’t cruel, choosing religion over warmth and parenting. So upon seeing his cold stare you automatically knew things were too far gone.
“And you.” She was turning to sneer in Jake’s direction now and you were slightly surprised to see him square back his shoulders, jaw clenching. “How can you be so stupid?”
“Mary, please advise yourself on how you speak to my son.” Jake’s mother was piling up from the couch “I thought we agreed that your daughter is the one at fault here.”
“What?” Jake was spitting out and your eyes widened, wanting to tell him to shut up and let it run its course. “It was as much me as it was her.”
“No it wasn’t.” You were shaking your head at lightning speed, taking a step forward but rocking back again when your mother shot a glare in your direction. “It was all me.”
Jake was glaring at you but you knew he held no anger, only frustration that you were attempting to take the punishment for this. He was crazy to think you wouldn’t considering it was all your doing in the first place.
“It doesn’t matter.” Your fathers cool and calm voice was ringing out and everybody turned to look at him. “Tomorrow morning Y/N will be sent to a correctional school. I should’ve listened to your mother when she begged me to send you years ago.”
Your eyes were watering as you looked at him with pure betrayal. Despite your hatred for your town, for your longing to leave and never return you felt an overwhelming sense of panic at the thought of being sent away. You looked over at Jake to find him already watching you with the same panic in his eyes.
Then he was turning back towards your father with a shake of his head and a stony expression. “I won’t let you do that.”
Jake’s father scoffed, making his first noise of the night and you glanced over at his large frame. He was watching Jake with disgust and amusement but you saw a faint hint of a challenge in his eyes.
“And what will you do son?” He was approaching Jake with a sneer, looking down at him. Jake raised his chin to meet his stare, his hands shaking against his sides. “You can’t even protect your own mother.”
It was said in a whisper so only Jake could hear it but you were standing close enough to faintly catch it, mouth parting in shock at his blunt admission before opening further when Jake was suddenly moving faster than you could even pinpoint when he had started.
Jake was on his father before he even had a chance to prepare for it and you could hear the shrieks of the women, your own fathers grunts as he jumped off the couch to try and control the situation. You were standing on the side, hands out and trying to grip a hold of Jake’s jacket to tug him back when he glanced back at your hurriedly while his dad was disoriented.
“Go.” He mouthed the word at you and you felt your heart shatter slightly, shaking your head in denial before he gave you a firm nod and a soft smile.
You could do nothing but watch in horror as his dad took advantage of him being distracted, slamming Jake onto the ground, nearly blocking the front door. You took your chance to run before somebody realized you were going to and stopped you, sparing Jake one last look before heading out the door.
You aggressively wiped your tears as you ran down the street, sobbing as you could still hear the screams and grunts of pain from Jake coming from the door you’d left open. Your cheek was stinging still but you powered through it, letting the cold numb you as you hopped on your bike you’d abandoned under the light and started peddling so hard your thighs burned.
The wind was howling as you sped past your own neighborhood and the church, the empty buildings a blur through your teary eyes and you fell off your bike once you finally approached the field you’d been in earlier that day, landing in the mud with a cry.
You left your bike near the entrance, wobbling closer to the river with harsh sobs ripping through you, your knees and skirt dripping in mud.
For a moment you wondered if this was it. If you’d been wrong your entire life about religion and sin and this was god letting you know he was here and he was furious with you for the evil you let harvest.
If taking Jake and hurting him was all because you had done bad things and harmed the people around you. You let out a scream of frustration and looked up at the dark grey, wanting to tell him you didn’t care if he was watching and it wasn’t fair.
Instead you let yourself fall against the wet grass, curling into a ball and hugging your knees to your chest as you listened to the rushing river and the honks of traffic. You briefly remembered you were still wearing your backpack and it contained a blanket you could cover up with but you had no energy left to reach back to get it.
You weren’t sure how long you laid there crying, the sky getting darker and darker as you sat and waited.
You weren’t positive what you were even waiting for. Maybe for your parents to come searching for you so they could drag you away to some far away place or maybe the more hopeful part of you was waiting for Jake to come, to tell you he was okay.
The thought of him made you cry harder when you remembered the sounds he was making as you ran out and how furious his father looked about being struck. A man with an ego was dangerous especially when it got wounded.
Waves of guilt were rushing over you for dragging Jake into your twisted fantasies, for wanting to keep him even after you’d gotten what you wanted. For liking him despite not knowing you were capable of that until he arrived. You wished the river would fill up and swallow you inside it.
Over all the combined sounds you barely registered a few being added.
You didn’t hear the sound of the bike tires approaching, or the splashing of the mud puddles underneath hurried feet. You didn’t hear his worried pants or the desperate call of your name in the distance.
It wasn’t until he was there did you feel him, it wasn’t until he was reaching down to grab your arm.
Not until it was skin on skin.
#enhypen#enhypen drabbles#enhypen fanfiction#jake enhypen#heeseung#heeseung drabbles#heeseung x reader#heeseung smut#jake x reader#sunghoon enhypen#jake drabbles#jake au#jake smut#jake fluff#jake fanfic#jake sim#enhypen smut
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Aug 7 2023 - 12:31pm
Warning: All people places and things resembling any real people places or things are merely coincidence and are not to be taken as such.
Man I am not doing anything I thought I was supposed to be doing by now. There are good reasons for all of it but to be honest I never thought in a million years I would be here and not there.
When I was younger adults and media and others in my life showed me what my life was supposed to be like. They told me what I was supposed to do where I was supposed to go and how I was supposed to do it. It was laid out in front of me easily. A cookie cutter path.
When I was a little girl my parents put baby dolls and Barbies in my hands. And as they had hoped I liked them.
My favorite was a babydoll I named Sarah. She was very realistic having little nipples, a butt, and a vagina. I appreciated the realisticness of the doll even to this day. The boy version of that doll brand had a penis. I really enjoyed how faithful they were to the anatomy.
I brought this little doll around with me everywhere and acted like her mother. I changed her clothing and diaper. I fed her food and even pretended to breast feed her until my father told me to stop. I am pretty sure it made him uncomfortable. I loved this baby of mine. I was told I would be an awesome mother some day and I was happy and proud of myself. Identifying that I was going to be a mother some day.
In school I was told to get good grades and I could be whatever I wanted. I was very excited because I wanted to be a dancer or an artist or an actor maybe even an author. My parents told me no I need to do something practical. I needed to do something that would bring in money. They told me I needed a stable job that gave me a good income. So I changed my mind and I wanted to be a scientist or a doctor or maybe even a professor.
Unfortunately I had a learning disability in reading writing and math. Did we find out what it was? No but they decided to say that I was lazy and didn't want to learn the material and if it wasn't me it was my teachers teaching me wrong. Now I am positive I was undiagnosed with Autism with PDA or pathological demand avoidance and ADHD-I attention deficit hyperactive disorder-inattentive type.
I ended up getting C averages in school the whole while hearing my teachers and parents getting after me for being smart but being too lazy to actually do my school work. I excelled at my art and music classes though, but those aren't the classes that matter when you're trying to get into college to get a degree so I can have a sustainable job.
When it came to going to college I had decided in high school I wanted to go. I didn't but my sister was in college and my mom was going too. My father told me every day he regretted not going. And the idea was shoved down my throat. So obviously that's what I was supposed to do.
I didn't have good enough grades to go to any ol' school but I was a very talented artist for my age. My friend talked about how he was going to college to be a video game designer so I decided to do the same at a very nice art school in my state. I got in but not even a week in I knew it wasn't for me and I dropped out.
I need to mention as well that I was raised a Christian. I was the perfect Christian too. I went to church every Sunday going to Sunday school and even going on Wednesdays. I went with my best friend at the time. I was dedicated to the board for a long time. And I knew I was going to be a Christian for the rest of my life.
None of this stuff happened. Because deep down I didn't want it.
I didn't want to be a mother. I felt neglected and wanted to be treated like my baby doll. I wanted the attention I gave her all the time. I wanted to cooing that I did to her. I wanted my parents to hug me and hold me and bring me everywhere with them. I didn't actually like kids. I definitely didn't like the kids I went to school with. They were loud and sticky and annoying. And even to this day I don't want children. I just wanted someone to get the love and affection I was missing out on.
As for school half way through second or third grade I gave up on having good grades. I had bad teachers that gave me bad grades whether or not I should have been getting good ones. I was stuffed into a learning program so they didn't need to bother with me. Also in Second or third grade I'd been raped by the school principal multiple times and I had never told anyone and in fact blocked it out of my memories actively telling myself it was all a bad dream.
As for college I never really wanted to go I was pressured into going. But I didn't know what that was at the time. I thought that was what I was supposed to do. I was excited at first. But being in the classes was overwhelming and being around new people and teachers. I was a whole state away from my family and I had gotten a new boyfriend who would not stop messaging me.
I dropped out because I was too overwhelmed. I didn't get over my need for special accommodations but the college didn't know that. I had just nearly been approved for not having to be in special education my senior year of highschool.
After dropping out of college I lived with my boyfriend. He turned out to be abusive. I stayed with him for five years. All the while I continued to draw and write. I wasn't allowed to work or do anything for myself for the whole five years I was with him. I did attempt to publish three books I'd written. I succeeded but the publishing houses I used basically scammed me and then closed before I could get any money from them. Making me feel like a failure.
After I left him I moved into my grandmother's house she had left my mom after she died and lived with my mom and brother.
I ended up dating another guy about mine months later. He was also abusive. But with him I was actually able to get a job. I worked at a store for almost three years while I was dating him. In the that time I had a mental breakdown and tried to kill myself. I stayed a week in the hospital and came home.
Then Covid struck and I lost my job. I was still with my boyfriend and didn't realize how abusive he was because of how badly I'd been abused by the previous guy. He asked me to move in with him and his family and I said yes because by that time my abusive sister and her son moved in with me my mom and my brother. After I moved in with him I was abused by not just him anymore but by his father as well. So six months later I moved back in with my family.
Living here with my family again I began to realize what was going on with him and I broke up with him last year.
I also left Christianity and became a Pagan witch and I haven't been happier with a decision.
My life has been nothing but chaos and nothing like the cookie cutter life I thought I was going to get. And for a long time I was upset about that. But not anymore.
I have learned to accept and love myself more than I have ever been my whole life by others. I may have a lot of mental and physical problems right now stopping me from being able to live my life the way I want but it won't be that way for long. I will get better and I will leave this place one day and I will be able to enjoy my life away from my family and under my own control.
Don't get me wrong I appreciate the life I am living right now. I am at peace with my life. I am thankful for where I am and where I was. I am shocked though at how different my life has been versus how I thought my life was supposed to be.
And I know no matter how hard or difficult my life may look I will always get through it. I am a strong and amazing person.
Regards
TNL Barth
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Show Faith Through Actions, Not Just Words
Today's inspiration comes from:
Best Seat in the House
by Jack Nicklaus II & Don Yaeger
“’Preach the gospel at all times. Use words if necessary.” It’s reported that Saint Francis of Assisi said those words when asked by others how a person should express his faith. And while most who know me wouldn’t expect me to pull out a supposedly eight-hundred-year-old quote from a Catholic friar, when I heard the words, I thought immediately of Dad. He is the living example of those words.
Clearly my father always had faith in himself, but the faith he would tell you was more important to his success was his faith in God. It wasn’t a discussion he had with reporters; it has always been his — and our family’s — take on faith to keep this portion of our lives rather private. Within our house, believing in our Creator was a central part of our life and success, and I’m sure no one who has spent time with Dad would question his faith. The lesson that both my parents taught us as their children mirrors exactly the way I’ve shared the discussion regarding faith with my children.
As I was writing this, the importance of faith and how it was taught led to a great discussion with both of my parents. “Believing in Christ was just a way of life,” Mom said.
Then Dad summed it up. “I thought it was important to teach you about God the same way I taught you golf,” he said rather matter-of-factly. “Go through and make sure you understand the importance and the fundamentals, then let each of you come to decisions based on what you saw, not what you might think was being forced. If the decision becomes truly yours, the impact will be far greater. My father and mother taught faith to me, basically, the same way.”
Mom and Dad passed that faith on to us, one of the greatest gifts they ever gave us. And as a Christ-follower today, I know the way Mom and Dad set the example worked for me.
As often as she could, Mom made sure she and the five kids attended our Methodist church and Sunday school and learned about God and Jesus. She said she made it a point for us to sit in the front row so none of us would be tempted to nod off or misbehave.
We didn’t attend church every Sunday because as a family we traveled to Dad’s golf tournaments many weekends. Dad got to go to church far less frequently than we did. He worked on Sunday. (At least he hoped every week to be working on Sunday!) But Dad made the point that a church attendance roster was no way to define our relationship with God. Of the five children I probably traveled more with Dad than the others. I first caddied for Dad when I was fourteen years old and was on his golf bag many weekends as a teenager and beyond, missing many Sundays at home.
PGA Tour players compete in twenty to thirty tournaments annually — Dad played in 586 PGA Tour events during his forty-three-year career. He traveled nationally and internationally, making pew appearances nearly impossible. On the tour, several players have, for many years, made it a point to gather for a group Bible study on Sunday mornings. Dad didn’t attend those gatherings, choosing to make his private time of worship his own. He read and prayed. But he did it alone.
Dad thought of the golf course as his place to witness.
When he was out there, the crowds were watching. In his mind it wouldn’t have mattered what he did on Sunday mornings if on Sunday afternoons he cursed and acted in ways that would have dishonored his Lord. Similarly, it wouldn’t matter how many times you pointed toward Heaven after a great putt if you disrespected your wife and family through your actions or words. Many people can put on a good show in public. But your core, who you truly are, is defined by what happens when nobody is watching.
I have tried to instill my parents’ commitment to faith in my kids through many of the same ways. I believed the way they watched a Christian life lived would help set an example, and I am proud of the direction each of them has chosen.
One of the most important teachings in the Bible is the admonition that each of us must love our neighbor.
I know there’s a chapter ahead in this book on my parents’ work for charitable organizations, but as I think about how my father and mother lived their faith, I think about many of the little ways they showed love to neighbors.
Dad would often encourage us, as children, to find little ways to help people. The greatest lesson in what he was teaching, though, was the importance of showing empathy for others, of not being judgmental of circumstances we might not understand.
You never know what other people are going through in their lives. Even a small interaction when passing someone on a sidewalk can entirely change a person’s day. Being respectful, appreciative, kind, caring, and listening to and learning from your friends, family, and strangers is very important. As big as our world is, it truly is small.
And in those moments, you may be opening a heart.”’
Excerpted with permission from Best Seat in the House by Jack Nicklaus II and Don Yaeger, copyright Jack Nicklaus II and Don Yaeger.
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hi
I was also raised 7th day Adventist and I’m a closeted lesbian. I don’t hate my religion..because I personally didn’t have a bad experience with it in my childhood, but it clashes a lot with my beliefs and well parts of my identity. I’m feeling a bit helpless because this religion has been a big part of my life, a lot of strong women I look up to in my life are sda, and my local sda community is very wholesome. And by now you can sense my reluctance in letting it go. I’ve been coping by thinking I should find a gay-friendly sda church once I move out.. if I ever get married. What’s your journey been like? 🪴
Hey! I don't meet a lot of sda online, it's interesting to hear a different perspective. I'm gonna go into everything, bc my experiences with sda really shaped me, and yeah, it's been a wild, not so fun ride.
Basically I was baptized catholic as an infant, but my family isn't practicing catholic. My mom is very religious, and wanted me to have a good education... In Brazil, we have very poor public education in primary and secondary school, and the best schools are the private ones... Which are also religious schools. So I wound up studying in a sda school from kindergarten to highschool graduation.
So from a young age (4 yo) I was raised on my school's religious beliefs. I was really involved, and my childhood best friend was also sda, she lived a couple floors down from me and we'd hang out often, and her family would bring me to church on Saturdays (there was a sda church across the street from the apartments we lived in). I was the staple Christian child, I prayed every night and every morning, apart from all the prayer at school ofc. At 8yo they did a talk at school about the importance of baptism, and I asked my parents to allow me to be baptized as sda. My mom surprisingly didn't want me to be baptized again, not so young, but my dad said I should do what I wanted, so I was baptized again at the school's church. Literally the school had an auditorium for our weekly religion-related classes, which we called "chapel", and was basically like going to church – but mandatory, as it was during school time. This specific school also had a church built on the side, so yeah.
During my early childhood through preteen years I had no issues with the school's teachings and sda ideology. It was all I had ever known, my family encouraged religion and we'd also sometimes (rarely) go to catholic church. I honestly didn't even realize people could not believe in god until I was 12/13.
I had never really heard much about being gay, or being anti gay during primary school - I may have forgotten having ever heard it from teachers. I only heard about homophobia from peers, and so I knew that being gay was a bad, evil, gross thing.
When I was around 11/12 we moved to a smaller town, and I started at a smaller Adventist school. I was the only one in my small newly found friend group who was baptized, and moving was very traumatic for me, so I started becoming less active in church. I became severely depressed because of the move and other stuff at home, and turned to the internet for a distraction.
I first heard about atheism from a youtuber, and he was known for his controversial takes (he's pretty nasty, it's only gotten worse with time but anyway). I guess a mixture of depression, becoming a teen, having my rebellious phase, I started researching into it.
My religion teacher (we had "religion" classes, but they should really have been called "7th Day Adventism classes") was much harsher than the one I had at my first school. This was around the time that Twilight was a big deal, and I read those books sooo many times for comfort, I got into Harry Potter etc. Not long after I moved to this school, we had a religion class about how Harry Potter was inspired by the devil. My books were often confiscated during class, even if I had already finished my assignments and was reading quietly, even if they were just on my desk. Being super depressed and introverted, with very few friends, books were my refuge. Having the teachers look down on them and literally say they were devilish and evil really started to shift my view of the religion. I knew these were good books, I loved them. So how could they be evil?
I have a very strong memory of praying and praying once and begging Jesus and god to help me, to give me a sign, because I was terrified of losing my religion, of losing god. All I had learned my whole life was that god is good, god is love etc. How come god wasn't helping me, my family, through some of the worst times? How come I was alone?
At around 12/13 my cousin came out to me as bi, and soon after another cousin came out as gay. I barely fully understood what that meant, and the internet was again where I researched about it. I realized I liked girls at the time, but I never understood you could even be married to a woman, as a woman. Even though I knew I liked and was attracted to girls, I never let myself think too much on it. The school was pretty obvious about how marriage is between a man and a woman, our "sex talk" was a class with our religion teacher. Bio talk was split, the boys left the room so we could learn about female anatomy and stuff, and then the boys had the room, etc. Our religious teacher was very adamant about how one shouldn't have sex before marriage, and marriage was between a man and a woman so...
Honestly the basework they laid was to erase homosexuality. I didn't even grasp that I could be anything but attracted to girls, I didn't realize I could do anything about it.
And then in highschool, I guess bc we were old enough, they finally started being outspoken about their hatred of gay people. There would be snide comments from the Portuguese/Lit teacher, a disgusting talk from the History teacher about how gay men's sexual activity leads to anal incontinence, the Religion teacher saying it was wrong, comparing it to criminality, the school's vice principal giving us a lecture and making sure to hammer in the worst thing anyone could turn out to be was homosexual.
At this point I thought I was okay with my same sex attraction, I thought these things weren't getting under my skin. But then I learned about being trans, and I came to the conclusion that since I was into girls, I couldn't be a woman. I identified as trans from around 15-19. That was internalized misogyny and homophobia, that was me actually letting all the snide little comments settle deep in me, and shape who I was.
Anyway, at around 14 I was done. School was teaching us that bastard kids aren't blessed by god (me and my siblings are all "bastards" as my parents were never married). They told us couples who lived together and we're never married were not blessed by god, and implied they were bound to have issues for their sin.
I was a teenager living in a broken home, my father was emotionally abusive to me and my mother, and honestly at the end of the day I had to choose if I wanted to believe in a god who was supposedly love itself, yet didn't protect me and my young siblings and my mom... Or not believe in god at all.
Leaving the church and coming to terms with not believing in god was one of the toughest times in my life. My depression was in the gutter, I was self harming, I was struggling. I remember thinking of my cousins, whom I was very close with growing up, and knowing they were good people, so how could god not love then? I remember thinking of myself, of all I had done for the church, for god, and wondering how could god not accept me.
For me, the church was poison. I only saw hypocrisy, I saw people who judged each other, who cared more about their own concepts of right and wrong than being mindful of others. I saw my teachers who preached being kind, but ridiculed and laughed at other religions and those who believed them. When I was questioning religion, I always had sooo many questions for my religion teacher and so often she just told me that some questions were too big for us to understand, that only god could fully comprehend himself.
I'm proud to have come out the other side, but I won't lie. The community that church represents does seem so lovely and welcoming. I wanted to be a part of something, and church offered that.
But at the end of the day, there's no space for me, a lesbian, in there. They don't believe gay marriage is okay, they don't condone our "lifestyle". They think this is a choice we're making, and a bad one at that.
The childhood friend I mentioned earlier, who I used to go to church with, actually came out as a lesbian a couple years ago as well. Her sda family is giving her a really hard time. She's left the church, last I heard.
Honestly, my advice would be to find other community. Find community with other lesbians, people who can accept you unconditionally, who can offer you support without small print. That's what I'm trying to do.
I personally am against christianity for a lot of other reasons besides my very negative experiences. Maybe that's not you, and in that case I guess finding a church that is LGB friendly can be the answer. I couldn't judge anyone for choosing to stay, because like I said I really understand how nice it can feel, how it's like you belong in this community, how it can feel like the church is family.
But I really suggest deep soulsearching, because in my experience all they ever did for me was suck all my energy, all my devotion, and spit me out when I was never going to be the heterosexual good girl they expected me to be.
Sorry for the super long answer, I hope this helps some? If you wanna talk more in private you can hit me up through DMs, I'm very willing to listen and talk about it.
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Jesus Household Headcanons
A/N: I know that in Heaven Hears, I mentioned that Jeremiah’s wife died giving birth, but I really wanted a happy and alive Jesus family in this one.
If I’ve said anything offensive or incorrect, I apologise and would appreciate it if you could correct me so I can change it.
I’m trying out a new format, hope you enjoy! Xx
Jeremiah was the stereotypical Church boy who somehow managed to become best friends with the Peaky Blinders and the Shelby family. When he finished school, Rose got Arthur Sr to give him a job as a bookkeeper
He met his wife, Angela, at Church when he was twenty-ish, He was a flustered mess, bless him, stuttering and faffing with his shirt sleeve. Angela, however, is all confidence and smirks (where else did Isaiah get it from?) as she asked him to go to the pictures with her
The rest is pretty much history. They were the cutest couple in Small Heath, giving each other pet names and picking up flowers for their dates
When they got married, Rose Shelby asked whether he’d got her up the duff, resulting in a whole lot of Good Christian Boy jokes that the entire Shelby clan tease him about- even Pol!
Angela found it funny when the Shelbys came over to eat, cause they could never stand the spices and her and Jeremiah would have to bite their lips to suppress their giggles as she asked if Tommy wanted another glass of water
Isaiah was a miracle baby. Because of a previous illness, they didn’t think Angela could get pregnant. Suffice to say, there was a massive celebration at the Garrison when the doctors confirmed it, and Jeremiah just could not stop smiling
He was born on Christmas Day 1905, and Angela thought it was appropriate that his middle name was Nicholas (Jeremiah didn’t really care what they called him, as long as his baby boy was safe in his arms)
The Shelby brothers take the absolute piss out of him for that and always make fun of the Church boy with Jesus’ name born on Jesus’ birthday. They didn’t stop as Isaiah got older, either, always nicknaming him ‘Emmanuel’ and ‘Christ child’, and John being the little shit he is would also hum like an organ tune under his breath whenever Angela rolled little Isaiah into Watery Lane in his little stroller
Despite the jokes, they all loved Isaiah (especially teenager John, who kept on saying he was going to be the best big brother to little Siah) and Polly always invited Angela around, letting Michael play with the baby, both of them saying how their boys were going to be best friends when they grow up
Since Jeremiah is Jamaican and Angela is a light-skinned black woman who doesn’t know her roots, they raise Isaiah with a blend of their two different cultures, teaching him to be proud of his heritage and his skin colour (he took after his mum in that area too)
Isaiah was a huge mamma’s boy when he was younger, but when Jeremiah came home from war, he never left his side
Finn and Isaiah grew up playing together, since their families were close, and the age difference never seemed to bother them until Isaiah became a teenager and started hanging out more with kids his age, and Michael when he came back
When Jeremiah went to war, he was inconsolable, spending most of the time with Finn, who was equally as distressed for his brothers and uncle. They went to the Cut to cry where no one could see, but then they always went back to Angela, who would hug them both and tell them that it wasn’t unmanly to cry, and then make them some food to get them to smile
Two months after they went to war, Angela found out she was pregnant (there was a huge baby boom that year...I think you can figure out why)
Jeremiah cried when he found out. He was so upset that he wouldn’t be there when the baby was born, or see the baby grow up in those first few years
John was there to console him, as he understood with four kids waiting at home for him, especially the newborn Katie
“We might miss those firsts, mate, and it will be fuckin’ awful when we go back and there’s our child who’s grown so much without us...but, the thing is, we’re fighting for them, Miah. We’re fighting so they can live and so we can go back an be a part of their lives.”
Delilah Rose Jesus was born on Easter Day 1915
As expected, the boys in the trenches took the piss out of him for that too
“Two miracle babies born on holy days! Y’know what boys, I might just start going to Church if God’s as good as that!”
“Freddie, if you ever willingly walked into a Church, you’d set on fire sooner than you could do the sign of the cross!”
Isaiah would always write to his dad about how he was taking care of his little sister, writing things like “Mum let me hold Lilah today when we went to the betting shop and she said I did a really good job, supporting her head and keeping her safe, even if she weighs as much as a sack of potatoes” and, he proudly read this out to the Shelby brothers: “Finn wanted to hold Lilah today but I wouldn’t let him. He had a right paddy but I reminded him about the Nativity incident and that my baby sister wasn’t plastic and would do more than melt if he dropped her in the candles!”
When they got home, Jeremiah immediately quit his job at the betting shop (he worked the books like his son would eventually take up) to become a preacher. This meant he could stay at home and look after Delilah and Isaiah when Angela went to teach at the local school, and he’d even bring the four year old along when he walked down Small Heath, teaching her the Bible as he recited phrases for everyone to hear
Being black in the 1920s wasn't easy, but with the Shelby protection, the family were always safe. When Isaiah got older, he started working the books in the betting shop and earned himself a cap to keep him and his family safe- it didn’t matter what colour your skin was, no one messed with a Blinder
Although Isaiah did enjoy a lot of the perks of being a Blinder (drinking, girls, parties, snow), his parents were both very proud of him and never tried to tell him he was wrong or sinning (although Jeremiah was always very worried about his son, staying up until he heard him come home)
Alongside his work at the betting shop, Isaiah also helped his dad out at the Church as a youth worker for the kids. Delilah was a part of the group, so he started it out to keep an eye on her, but ended up really enjoying teaching these little kids about the Bible and, since the group had a lot of ethnic minorities in it, he loved being a role model for them and teaching them that God loves them and their skin colour, just as his mum and dad taught him
Delilah looks a lot like her dad with darker skin and her hair always up in braids since it gets in her face too much otherwise. She was a bit wild, always running about with John’s kids and having fun outdoors, and she loves Charlie’s Yard. She wants to be a mechanic when she’s older, so she always gets Charlie or Arthur to show her how things work
Angela gets Delilah to fix broken clocks and the like, sitting at the table as she watched her daughter take them apart and put them back together
As Isaiah got a better position in the Peaky Blinders and more money, he started to bring back little treats for his family. He bought his dad the rosary that he always wears after Jeremiah’s old one was broken in war. He likes to buy his mum flowers and little pretty things that caught his eye. For Delilah, he got her soft toys and mechanical things for her to wind up and play about with
The Jesus family were happy. There was a lot of danger in their life, with the discrimination in Birmingham and the razor blades in their son’s cap, but they had each other, and that was all that mattered.
#Peaky Blinders#peaky blinders fanfiction#peaky blinders fanfic#peaky blinders headcanon#peaky blinders headcanons#jeremiah jesus#jeremiah jesus headcanons#Isaiah jesus#isaiah jesus headcanon#Isaiah jesus headcanons#peaky blinders oc#polly gray#Michael gray#arthur shelby#tommy shelby#john shelby
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Unreal Love Story “Henry Cavill” chapters 1-3
Sequel To My Story “Tom Hiddleston”
Summery
“ Tom Dear ! She is gone!” His mother says when her son barges thru her front door. Diana Hands a sobbing Charlie to His Stunned father Leading them into the house to a computer sitting @ her kitchen table with a flash drive in it. Just as Tom is about to say something . His Mom hush's them both and starts the video. I start with calming Charlie through the computer. “ Hello Little one . I'm am sorry I have to leave you so. But You are a strong young man . Sometimes even stronger than your father at times. Just know that I love you dear one and will always be your special friend . Now dry those tears and Go see Nanna . So Your dad and I can talk.” I said to Charlie thru the computer. Tom Knew after that our relationship was over maybe had been over for a while.
Chapter 1
Numbness,& NASCAR
I couldn't Stay in London. It hurt too much all I saw was pain. I couldn't go home yet still felt like I failed myself some how so home wouldn't work. So I numbed myself out in Cali. I did what I swore I wouldn't. I went full Party Girl. Between the parties ,clubs, Bars I was wasted most of the time. But I knew that being In Love Like this before then Losing love has it's down side . Tom and I had been it for 3 years. But towards the end I was more His son's nanny than his girlfriend . Most of his friends warned me this was one sided . He never got over Sophia Di Marino ,Charlie's Mom. The split was Mutual. I'm Not mad to be truthful. Annoyed really that I let it go on this long ..
So California I went , to numb the hurt. I don't give a rat's ass what they say about better to have Loved crap ! It still hurt's dammit! So Party Shannon I became. I still wrote my stories without impairment. By day I was the mildly hungover writer coffee in hand . Luca was still Daydreaming so I was still writing. But @ night Let's just say in the great words of Bill & Ted .” Party on Dudes” So I did. Shaking my ass Beer in hand in a club in south beach ! Rockin' out to Pink. I am vaguely aware I am Jamming with a rather large Englishmen Go Figure ! He has a familiar tone I can't place ,frankly all I see is curls ,beard & muscle , Cause I'm too drunk and don't care but he was hot and can grind Like no other. But even though I was no lady ,he was a gentleman And at the end of the night I was in my Hotel room clothes and dignity intact.
Woke the next morning with another hangover that I never use to get when I was younger. They still Suck! UGH! I'm about to start typing when I get a feed from TMZ. “TWH PROPOSES TO SDM!” I switch on my TV and sure enough The rock on her finger is massive and Charlie Looks so Happy . The numbness lifts along with the pain . I can see the sun again so I finally pack my stuff .
But not for England . I head home. I decide I need time with my son . So Arkansas, Hot Springs that is. Although when I get there I find out my son is in Florida . In Daytona Beach. At the Racetrack! My nephew Christian and his wife Kiki took Lucas to a NASCAR race and Somehow Lucas Landed a job as head mechanic for Carlos Contreras's race team. Shocked as I was, I get on a flight to Florida it is a good shocked but WOW. I got a Hotel room and then went to the track . Took me a little convincing to get in . Security walked me to the Pit where I found my baby boy covered in grease. Under a car . When Lucas jumped up and hugged me they left us alone . test moment's in a parent's life is seeing your child seceded at something he loves. This was Lucas's dream !Like writing is for me. It was his turn. Lucas Introduced me to Carlos with sparkles in his eyes . Carlos seemed to Like what My Son does. Even tells me that Because of my Boy, Carlos has won 8 races. How more proud can I get I am in tears. While I was here I went to a few races and Lucas and I raided the theme parks. Then one night Lucas had a grown up moment and told me I had to go back to the U.K.. He said I write my best stuff there and I need to make peace with Myself. How did my Autistic Son get so smart. Then he tells me. He is a big Guy now and He didn't need his Mom to hover.
Chapter 2
Something New
So once I'm back in London. I dust off My flat that Luke made sure I got despite me moving in with Tom. Besides writing, a few friend's gave me the intro to the London night life and I found a outlet to unwind . But I didn't drown myself like in Cali. But I still maintained my Party Mama status. Also I am exercising regularly, to compensate for the Night life . But I found that I have way's now that I am Back to make exercising fun. I do the Gym of course. But I also like rollerskating in Hyde or St. James park, when it's sunny. I found a Ice Skating rink that is 7 day's a week. And there is a indoor pool at the Gym I go to. .
But I realized some things while I was home in the states. I can't ever forget where I came from . So I pay it forward to 4 special organizations for charity and I never write them off my taxes . I went back to church I actually found a Nazarene church in the U.K. Honestly Church is what keeps me semi sober in the clubs on Friday and Saturday. No hangovers in Gods house .So I have been busy. By maintaining the order of my life like I did way before when My soul purpose was being a MOM. God, Family Friends career is a new addition but not that high on the list.
I found a way to keep myself going .My heart has even healed to a point and I am actually making good friends with “ The Hiddleston “ I can't even comprehend The fact that Sophia took Tom's name . I didn't think her agent's would let her do that. Any how I Am officially Aunty Shannon to Charlie and he even still talks to Lucas and they talk cars regularly according to Tom. As for right now though I'm actually doing more than writing I am at The Harold Pinter theater in London as a Producer and assistant to Kenneth Branaugh the director of a play Based on one of my fan fiction stories . It's a Vampire Love story with a family twist. No Not Twilight no blood sucking fairies here. But what has me excited is the cast . Tom is in it along a whole bunch of my fave idol's Including Henry Cavill as the male lead. . OK! I fibbed Kenny doesn't need me the whole time so I am writing when I am not teaching Charlie Who is acting for the first time. Tom is One Proud Papa! I will tell you what. And Charlie Looks like he is having a wonderful time despite playing a Girl demon!
also I do have a little Mystery of my own I am trying to solve. Every morning when I get to work. Yes I'm getting paid for this production. I go to my seat and drink my coffee but I find a different colored long stem lily in the seat . I asked Tom. If Charlie was doing it and I even ask Ken. None said It was them. Both even offered to investigate with me . Saying they have a little experience because they played P.I.'s
I was actually flattered I had an admirer. I just hope I won't regret taking the Lily more seriously. Anyway The play is gearing up for opening night I called Lucas's aide Reed to Se if He will be able to be in London for my Play . Which If it does well it will head to the States and go on Broadway. Now tell me if that ain't totally awesome. I.K.R. We as far as my Book's are concerned Luca start's Middle School. So Social interaction and puberty mixes in with his amazing world which should make for a wild ride for our readers. My honorary nephew is even reading them which make's my heart sing Oh! So I don't leave it out my lily was Aquamarine and silk today not real but it had a pink bow and it sparkled . He-he! Who ever this is knows I like things that sparkle. It makes me giddy.
Opening Night!!!!
My Lucas is here . Looking Just Like he did Prom Night When he took my god daughter to the prom. My boy is So handsome. Lucas has been working out so My lucas is Tall and Jacked thanks to His Buddy Phillip Hull. We get to ride in a Limo It will be Lucas's first time in one. Me! I'm In all Red Long red hair with a touch of gray at the temple and proud of it. A Long Jessica rabbit dress that sparkles in the light. Red flat's I ain't that crazy . It's gonna be a long night and I am in my 50's Heels are not in the program. I had red cloves and a red silk Shaw. I felt amazing and all my boy could say is Wow mama Look Pretty! LOL! I am also excited not only for the play but according to the Little note I got with My Red Rose that was sitting in my seat on the last day of practice. I get to meet my admirer tonight too
So Lucas and I are off Lucas is Like a school boy Looking around and he is also a little nervous. I can tell he Keeps Playing with his collar and tie. I made sure Luke had a pair of ear buds and his fave music in a MP3. And sunglasses to help with Lucas's experience. Plus so he doesn't have to deal with the red carpet stuff Reed is here so Lucas will be with me only for a few pictures then Reed will take him inside while I deal with the popularity this sold out play has caused . New York here we come!!!!!!
Lucas went inside as planned. And Luke is by my side in his place as my escort. Luke felt I shouldn't be alone. Because of the split and Tom's marriage. Even though Tom and I are cool talking about and he is even here with Taylor so I'm cool. I was having lot's of fun taking little interview's and pictures and such. Luke always said I was surprisingly easy going in the lime light and it shows tonight. `Sophia , Ken and I had some fun with the photo people and Kissed Each side of Tom's cheeks while he was trying to pic up Kenneth, then we Bent down to Kiss Ken's cheeks when Tom dropped him on his butt ,our booties where purposely in the air. Let's Just say we made Kenny's night! I was all in good fun Tom told me that Charlie was inside with new Hot wheels car's to show Lucas cause they are NASCAR ones.
Finishing up the pictures and fixing to go inside I was about to give up hope on there being an admirer. When I went to take one last. Picture, Henry Cavill came to Join me in the picture and whispered in my ear to Look down, as he grabbed my waist for the picture . I did. And their was a pink Lily and a white rose in his hand tied in a pink bow. Let's Just say that pic had my mouth hanging open and Henry laughing as we went in to the theater. Let the new dance begin.
Lois Lane never Got Superman this way Ha!
Chapter 3
Don't jump! One moment @ a Time.
As far as the play went it was as major success. I couldn't pay attention at all . I was staring at Henry the whole time In awe of all of this.As far as I was concerned it was like I had never tasted this before . I won't lie, it scares the shit out of me . I was a ball of nerves the whole play . It was Thomas all over again. @ least that was what I thought. Until Henry asked if I would sign a book for is Nephews Daughter who has Down syndrome. I was politely surprised . He then introduced himself to my Son. Which Lucas can recognize any actor who has ever played a Superhero or villain . Henry was one of our faves. He asked if we wanted to grab a bite to eat . Lucas always could eat. Even in his 30's endless Belly! Can you see 3 adult's in fancy dress in Mc. Donald's. I Loved it Because Henry took the liberty to date Lucas first. To me that Mc. Donald's was 5 stars. The Limo dropped 2 very full and sleepy men at My son's Hotel. I was sparkling in happiness. We pulled up in front of my flat but Henry wouldn't let me out yet. I think he wants to talk . So naturally I listened.
fore I could even say anything He Quieted me and held my hand . Baby Blues connected. Then he spoke. “ Shannon I know what you went through with Hiddleston. I grilled him after meeting you . Actually I'm kinda surprised he didn't rat me out. Story for another time. Now that you understand my intent. I want time. Time to know you. Also before you get nervous, will it help If I got permission from Lucas to date you and Charlie Hiddleston second's the permission. I'm normally a prideful Man But Shannon something inside Tell's me I am supposed to started something new with You. I want get to know you Date you proper. If anything let's see where it goes. Even if we don't connect more personally . We can at least catch a grind to a tune and groove like buddies”.
My breath hitch because I just realize that dude I was grinding with in California at that club. The English Dude. That was Henry!!!!! He notices my blush and Shakes his head showing me the bracelet. I smack his shoulder Laughing my Blush off. Then I told him I am willing to try and if all else fails Partying in New York won't get boring . Then he kissed my Palm and let me out . I gave him my # and told him to give me a call when he was ready to try. The Limo waited till I was Inside. But instead of Leaving The door opened and Henry came running up to me . Grabbed my waist, pulled me close and Kissed me. We exploded!!!!
Hand in Hand at JFK airport Henry and I go straight to the Hotel . No Not for that . We came early so Henry could as he says Court me proper. LOL! There is nothing I'd rather do the then run all over NYC for the first time with Henry. I have jumped in fully no comparing to any other love . This is true Eros and I'm going with the flow. That was our agreement for each other the next morning after the Play. To Just Love & enjoy till the fluffy lady quits singing.
I exploded because of SuperMan!
{None of this story is real the pic are from Googles images !!!!!!!!!!!!}
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8, talk to me about all your historical crusades meta. You know which fic. ❤️
Hi Friend! This is a FUN question! (Anyone who’s wondering, this is from A Man Like That, my origin fic for Nicky and Joe).
Okay. Did any real people or events inspire any part of it?
The short answer is YES. It was inspired by the First Crusade— particularly the Siege of Jerusalem in 1099– but it also involves in-depth research into the Clunaic Order of monks that split off of the Benedictine Order; the legend(???) of Genoa being sacked in the late 900s by raiders from Northern Africa; the burning of the port of Mahdia by Genoese and Pisano armies in 1087; the Zirid Dynasty and the razing of Kairouan by the Fatimid Caliphate; the Abbasid Caliphate; Al Nizamiyya University in Baghdad; piracy and trade by both Genoa and Northern Africa via the Mediterranean Sea; the arrival of the relics of John the Baptist in Genoa in 1098; AND last but not least, the Hospitaller Knights and Blessed Gerard (Gerard Thom).
*John Mulaney voice* now we don’t have time to unpack ALL that!
He’s right, so I’m gonna walk through my concepts for Nicky and Joe, touching on as many of these points as I can while I go, trying not to spoil anything for later chapters.
NICKY: First things first, I don’t think Nicky is a Knight. I don’t even think that he’s technically a Crusader— I know a lot of people in the fandom don’t love the idea of Nicky having been a priest, but when you look at what a VAGUE description priest is, it gives you so much wonderful wiggle room. A priest could be a monk or a secular priest, and there are lots of different kinds of monks and church-sancationed splits into different worlds. In Nickys time, of course, there were way less, but there’s still options. This is where Clunaic monks come into the picture. Clunaic monks wanted to go even harder than their Benedictine predecessors. Nicky, in my story was raised by the Abbot at San Fruttuoso Abbey (for reasons we shall see)— this gives him a lonely, unorthodox upbringing, and no real family. He is desperate for connection and seeks that from God, but just can’t. That, plus the history of the raid that essentially leveled Genoa in the 900s, and the coastal location of the abbey, and it’s the perfect breeding ground for some low key fanaticism.
This brings into play the relics of John the Baptist, the hospitaller knights (who did not exist in a named capacity yet), and Gerard. The relics of St John put a fire under Nico’s ass to do something. He mentions wanting to leave the order and go abroad to help Christians through service instead of prayer in a quiet moment with the Abbot, who seems... too ready to get rid of him (he’s not a great monk, but he tries so hard). He sends him to Jerusalem with a note to his colleague from Amalfi, Gerard. At the Hospital of the Order of St. John. This was the dawn of the age of Military Orders of Catholic priests and laymen in the Holy Land— you know the Knights Templar? And how there’s no way that Nicky could be one? Well, the Hospitaller Knights were their predecessors, not “defending” pilgrims on the route to Jerusalem, but operating a hospital exclusively for those pilgrims in the city itself. The hospital that Gerard founded in Jerusalem/the idea of these knight/priests started around 1070ish. The hospitaller knights were cemented in the Siege of Jerusalem, and that’s what inspired me to have Nicky join them. Just weeks before the siege. This is all a bit over simplified, but I’m only explaining it as it pertains to Nicky and the story here. Gerard comes in for Nicky in a literal sense in this story, as a real character. He’s the first guiding hand and somewhat gentle presence in his life. He’s also the first person to ever hand Nicky a sword.
JOE: Joe is still a little more nebulous as far as the details are concerned (we don’t get his POV until the fourth chapter, so I’m taking my time with his research), but his backstory follows a wonderful post by (I think) @hottopicmonk discussing whether he was from Mahdia or Tunis. It’s a great post— I can’t find it right now, but I’ll try to link it later— that talks about the Zirid Dynasty, the Fatimid Caliphate, and the inter-regional merchant spies 👀. That was INSPIRING as HELL, and I started doing my own research from there. Joe’s backstory and actions throughout my story take him all over the Levant, Middle East, and Northern Africa, even long before his death and the Siege. He’s a traveler from a wealthy family, shaped by his parents stories of Kairouan (where his father was raised, and was forced to flee), and the Zirid (Sunni) relationship with the Fatimid caliphate (Shia). This is why he is a spy for local zirid leaders, and in a bit of a pickle at the start of the story. This is also why Joe’s old university is in Baghdad— putting him in the domain of the Abbasid caliphate, which was also Sunni. Joe’s experiences at university definitely shape him, but it’s a trip home to Tunis (in, you guessed it, 1087) that he witnesses the aftermath of the sacking of Mahdia and the burning of the port.
Both Joe and Nicky, while super different, have both led their own brand of a sheltered life. Nicky in a more extreme sense, but Joe too. Joe wouldn’t have seen violence on such a scale before that— I think his parents, with their trauma from Kairouan, would have shielded him and his siblings as much as their money and power would allow. After Mahdia, and the loss of a key family member there, I think joe asks his father to teach him to use the scimitar. This is a big moment for joe, and also gives him more than ten years of experience with a weapon when he and Nicky meet.
ONE MORE THING: there are bits and pieces of the story— things that are inconsequential/harmless— that I just waive historical accuracy for the sake of the story. Those will be indicated in the authors note when they happen. This story is the compilation of over a month of research and outlining. I am very proud. Thank you for asking, friend!
Okay! I think that’s about it. I hope that actually answered the question haha it’s not ALL my crusades meta, but i don’t want to spoil the story 😬👍🏻
#the old guard#fanfiction#joe x nicky#yusuf al kaysani#nicolo di genova#yusuf x nicolò#tog meta#oh god i made a meta post#if you want my bibliography#ill have to write one first#haha all my tabs are still open like an idiot
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Coming Out
I don’t really know where to pour my heart out other then Tumblr. Considering this site has the most random stuff i think it’s the right place to get this off my chest. It’s gonna be a long post so i will be pouring my heart out under the ‘keep reading’ line. Basically it boils down to the fact that I just came out as Non-Binary to the people i work with. Which leaves me in a whirlpool of emotions. I’ve already bawled my eyes out and i might do it again. Because i’m scared as hell, relieved as all hell and i feel like i can fucking breathe for the first time since forever. Everything is just overwhelming right now. But i need to get this off my chest. And i have literally no where else to post this. Just a heads up, i will be talking about my own experience, which brushes the subject of depression, anxiety and suicide. So if you’re sensitive to these subjects, i completely understand if you decide not to read.
Onto my story:
First up, I’m Non-Binary. (He/Him Pronouns) And it may be a strange opening line but you have to understand that i haven’t been able to say this out loud, with pride, for years. I have been going through a really rough childhood and up until highschool i thought that it was because there was something wrong with me. As highschool progressed, things didn’t get any better, except for the fact that i started to understand something wasn’t necessarily wrong with me. I was just different then other people. And at the end of highschool i finally figured out what was what. But i couldn’t do anything with that knowledge. Depression, Anxiety, bullying and other things kept a lid on it.
I thought it was best to suffer in silence because i was so scared that everything was going to get so much worse if i came out as a Non-binary person. On top of that, I’m a Pansexual. It’s a logical but not a great combo as these are two things that are very ‘new’ and ‘recently introduced’ to society. I know these things were existing before we could even give it a name. (And my heart hurts thinking of all those people in the past who struggled with this their whole lives unable to give it a name or come to terms with it)
I was struggling with multiple things, trying to keep my head above the water. Which backfired completely as i got depressed, my first ever girlfriend backstabbed me, which made me feel like an even more sore loser, i struggled with self esteem, my gender, my sexuality, my body, my personality. Basically everything a teenager would be going through except... It was really bad. So bad i wanted to end it all. I did try to push myself to commit suicide, but in the end i couldn’t go through with it. I thought it was too selfish to leave my parents and sisters behind without answers. And though at least i didn’t feel guilty for leaving them behind, i felt miserable with my life.
Fast forward to college, I was struggling. Walking around like a zombie. My education suffered, i suffered. My depression got worse. I had to quit and i spend half a year at home, in bed. Refusing to get up for anything other then food or the bathroom or maybe a shower if i felt like it. At this point i would hurt myself to distract me from the pain on the inside. If i felt pain on the outside, i wouldn’t pay attention to the fact that i felt like i couldn’t breathe, every day.
My parents eventually forced me to do some volunteer work. (no people involved, i had to go to a farm where special care was given to the disabled and feed the animals in the petting zoo there.) The animals made me feel more at ease and the fresh air did me some good. I was getting a bit better. I stopped hurting myself because the volunteer job distracted me enough. But i still felt like i couldn’t breathe. Until my parents suggested i go see a Psychiatrist. Help was help, or so i thought, so i agreed. But (and don’t get me wrong, i love my parents and respect their beliefs) the psychiatrist was from a Christian organization and he didn’t get me at.all. According to him i was suffering from a personality disorder and identity disorder. Which i KNEW wasn’t true.
Naturally i quit therapy because the man wouldn’t listen to me. Now i’m a Christian too, and i know we aren’t all the same. But i didn’t want to risk it, so i went looking for a more open minded psychiatrist . One who was perhaps an atheist or hanging on some other religion. I didn’t care as long as he was open minded. (I didn’t feel comfortable with female psychiatrists at the time, but if i had i would have considered going to one) So i found a psychiatrist that i had a good feeling with and things started to get better. He helped me get through my trauma (I was sexually assaulted when i was eleven. Because of my low self esteem I couldn’t say ‘no’. I was too shy and timid to stick up for myself and this fucker knew and abused it.) He helped me gain more confidence. He helped me build up more self esteem and accept my sexuality. But Gender was still an issue.
Eventually we were at a stalemate. I felt like i had to figure the rest out for myself. He too said he gave me the tools i needed, but it was up to me to build my life.
fast forward to my second attempt at collage. I struggled through a relationship that didn’t work. and ended things with my date in the start of the second year. It was a 3 year education program that eventually took me 5 and a half years to complete. But i did it. And i got my degree and boy i was proud. But then... I had to start working and put myself in the professional field. This was 3 years ago. Thinking back on the hell i went through to get where i was, i didn’t want to risk people misunderstanding me or turning me down because i was different. I kept my gender and sexuality trapped tightly in my private life.
But you may have guessed it: It still made me feel miserable. I was lying to myself. And every time someone addressed me with female pronouns it was like someone was banging a hammer on a piano. I tried to ignore it but people started noticing i was very closed off and quiet and basically not a very happy person. I went from my first job to another employer somewhere else because i needed more hours. (there was never anything wrong with my first job, they just thought i was really shy. but i couldn’t get more hours so i moved on.) Hoping that it would be better there. Same story, same results. They noticed something was wrong. When i tried carefully to open up about what was bothering me, i got fired. That was at the start of this year. I tried hard to find a new job, the first job interview i had i felt like it had to be now or never. So i thought ‘fuck it all’ and i told them about my gender and that i preferred male pronouns even though i looked feminine. Guess what. They decided not to hire me. Big surprise. So the next time, i didn’t say a thing.
Then i was about to get hired and then lockdown happened. And they laid me off. I was starting to feel depressed again. And helpless. Hopeless. I thought back on my first employer, and what a good time i had there despite my struggles and me being so quiet. So i was like: Why the hell not? And i tried again to get a job with the same employer. They had a place for me, not at the location i worked at before, but at a different one. Five days a week. I felt like i just witnessed a miracle when they decided to hire me. But i didn’t tell them anything about my gender or struggles, i just told them i have trouble opening up but i’m really trying. And they are patient with me and help me wherever they can. It’s also a Christian organization, but they are much more open minded then you’d expect religious people to be. (To be fair not everyone employed there is actually religious)
Two months go by and i’m having a good time. The job is perfect, my co workers are really nice. I’m having a great time. But there is still that nagging feeling every time a kid calls me Teacher. (I’m Dutch. We don’t have a word like Teacher. With us it’s divided into Female teachers ‘Juffen’ And Male teachers ‘Meesters’) So they naturally call me the female equivalent of teacher. And i absolutely hate it. Again i hear that hammer banging on the piano and i feel like i can’t breathe. Then i learn that one of my co-workers is a Lesbian and in a relationship and everyone is acting so normal about it. And she has been working there for 6 years now. It broke something in me. I just didn’t want to lie to myself and others anymore. But because of everything that happened i was so scared to come out as Non-Binary.
So a few weeks ago i was finally so fed up with everything and the constant feeling that my chest was constricted and a knot being in my throat every time a kid called me teacher. So finally, there were some kids joking about boys and girls and what would make someone a boy or a girl. (kids are so sweet and innocent at the age of 5 they don’t know any better) So some of the girls were giggling and started calling me the male equivalent of teacher. I nearly cried. I never felt so happy in my life. But then one of my co-workers tried to correct them and i just blurted out: “Please don’t correct them. It’s fine. They can call me that.”
She was surprised. And i thought: ‘What did i do now?’ But on second thought, it didn’t give me the chance to run away again or hide or keep struggling in silence. Because later she asked me what i meant with it and i told her my story. Of how my gender and how i was addressed effected me. I told her everything and i was shaking. I was scared, i was on the edge of crying, because i remembered all the times that me coming out as a person, with my Non-binary gender had caused me more harm then good.
She was very calm about it. I could tell she was trying her best to understand even if she was left a bit confused, and we talked about solutions. She then suggested that if it would make me really happy, then starting immediately, we would teach these kids to address me with my name instead of as a teacher. (I work in after care for kids who’s parents have to work, so we pick them up from school and look after them until dinner time when their parents pick them up. We aren’t teachers anyway.)
I never really thought about that. And i agreed on the solution. So then we started to teach these kids to address me with my name. Another co worker i often work with heard this being brought into practice, which also kind of left me to explain to her why this was now a thing and why it needed to continue to be a thing. So i told my story to her. Again i was scared as hell, shaking and near crying. But she also responded calmly and told me she thought i was brave and that she would try to help me teach these kids to address me by my name.
I work with one other co worker on a regular basis. I haven’t told her the why yet but i asked her to help me teach the kids to address me with my name. (those kids are 6-7 years old and are a little easier when teaching something new) She agreed even if she didn’t know why. I will tell her soon. Probably next week. But i’m still nervous and my emotions are all over the place.
I also told my ehmm superior? Is that the word? I don’t know but she works at the office on our location to organize everything for everyone and make sure we have a list of which kids are coming on which days and stuff like that. I ended up telling half of my story to her too. She was interested but busy with a lot of other things too, which made it even scarier to tell her. (I always get more scared if i can’t really figure out how a person is going to respond or if the response is too vague for me to be able to tell if it was bad or good). But she was very calm about it too. So i want to see if i can sit down with her sometime and tell her my whole story to see if she can understand it a little better, and how we’re going to implement this in my work. Who needs to know, who can know and how we will solve the pronouns thing. (Although she seemed happy with the solution of calling me by my name. She seemed to support it)
So as you can guess, after the last two weeks my emotions and feelings have been all over the place. I don’t sleep well some nights because all of this is going on and it’s so recent and fresh that i’m still worried. but... I can breathe.. For the first time since forever i can breathe. I’m happy. I’m not lying to myself. I don’t have to hide. And even if they don’t fully understand it, i’m finally being fully supported.
(I love my parents as i’ve said before. But because of their beliefs they can’t fully support me. They will always love me. But to them i will never be anything else than their daughter and their little girl. And though it hurts my heart more then they realize, they refuse to use male pronouns for me. But they love me and they will never ever turn me away. I will always be welcome in their home. They will always love me as their child. They will never cut me off or disown me or turn away from me. So they support me. Just not 100% in the way i wished they would.)
(My sisters are more open. Though my older sister has some trouble, she tries to use he/him even though she told me honestly that she doesn’t think she can ever see me as her little brother. So i told her ‘Don’t. Because i’m Non-Binary. Just see me as your little person.’ She laughed and said: Alright.
My little sister is the easiest. She doesn’t mind calling me Bro. She even said she always wanted a brother so she calls me dude and bro and uses he/him and i love her for it.)
But now at my work of all places (next to my few friends who use he/him as well) i have people who support me fully and try to help me be who i am without me having to feel ashamed for it or repressing it because i think being myself will cause me more harm then good. I can be myself. I can finally just let go. I have cried so hard already and i’m almost crying again typing this all out. Good god i know it’s a long story but... I’m just so overwhelmed. I needed to get this all out there one way or another. Just because i’m so overwhelmed that i need an outlet. So Tumblr. Here you go. This is my coming out story and i’m gonna go off and bawl my eyes out in a corner again because... I am overwhelmed.
#Noobtiedoo#coming out story#coming out#gender stuff#wordvomit#anxiety#depression#happiness#emotions all over the place#i feel so overwhelmed#real life struggles#non-binary
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Why it's important for Peru's youth to have a Skam remake
Disclaimer: This is an informal essay. I'm not basing any of this on scientific studies, but in my own and other's personal experiences and general knowledge as Peruvian teenagers.
Being a Peruvian teenager is hard, as in every other country in the world. There's few to no representation of the LGBT+ Community, and the Feminism is so criticized and forced on screen that true attempts to make it work are drowned by TV companies who just want to achieve a social agenda that will get them more viewers. We have grown up in a society where, thought it's true that working women are everywhere, a lot of them still think that their children have to ask the father for permission. The political crisis is bigger than ever, with a now non-existent Congress because it was mostly conformed by the opposition political party and didn't want to approve a law that would assure gender approach and sexual education on public and private schools (and that's only the peak of the iceberg). Religion has a great deal to do with that: it's influence is so big here that people can’t get proper education on important matters, such as sexuality, gender equality, civilism and social science.
However, youth is rising. When the Congress tried to approve a law that meant superior institutes students would work for free for almost three years, the march that prevented it was huge and unstoppable. When the most shameful judicial scandal of our history was unveiled, we young people were on the streets, demanding a reorganization of the National Court. Marches and protests are an essential and constantly present event on our daily lives now, even if not all of us participate in them. Chile and Bolivia - not to mention Venezuela - have bigger and and more notorious issues, but that doesn’t make our country invisible. You will never hear a single Peruvian saying that they’re proud of their country because of its Government. We all talk about our delicious food (‘Best culinary destiny of the world!’) and our breathtaking touristic places (Peru: the world’s catalog!’). We always complain about politics and society, thought. Peru is a racist, misogynist, homophobic country who says is inclusive and loves its culture, but has so much centralization that most people don’t know and don’t care about what’s happening outside the capital, Lima. We scream that we’re one of the most biodiverse countries on earth, but not that we're also the least ranked country in Latin America regarding education. In fewer words, were hypocrites.
Now imagine you’ve grown up in this environment: nationalism and occidentalization is everywhere, you say you’re proud of your country because that’s what your family taught you, and, suddenly, you’re thrown into reality. Peru is beautiful, but so wasted that you notice it’s all an act. Mining and external private investments represent the highest economic income, but that money is not well used and the contamination is killing children of blood and lungs diseases. Education in public primary and secondary schools is a joke. There’s a lot of good public colleges, but they’re so inside politics that corruption has rotten their roots and young people do whatever they can to attend private colleges instead. We all wish to get out of this hellhole of a country, and our parents want us to - it's the least we can do, because Peru has no remedy. We're a third world, underdeveloped country, and that's never going to change because people is ignorant and do nothing to invest themselves into politics or society issues. It's sad, and frustrating, so you just want to finish studying, get a job and then fly out of here.
Daily life is another matter. Middle class is the biggest population here, with poverty close at 20 percent or something like that. That means some of us can afford food and some vanities, but not in excess. Supermarkets exist, but markets more common, often visited by middle-low class house wifes who only go to Metro and Plaza Vea - famous supermarkets chains here - when they want to show off or have additional income. Teenagers are so surrounded by American culture and European expectations that save money to shop on the mall and drink Starbucks. Believe me when I say those things are expensive here, because they are. We all want the most cliché stuff you can imagine: Adidas clothes, Converse shoes, Ariana Grande songs and Corona beers. I know that's a lot of generalization, but that's our perception of American and European culture: you're advanced, sophisticated and beautiful. Indigenous people leave their customs and traditions because they wish to be accepted by us, wanna-be's. We teach them to speak Spanish and then English, to dress 'properly' with t-shirts and pants, to not paint their faces and vanish their accent as much as possible. Teenagers are the firsts to fall for all that bullshit, because we think it will make us fit into society seamlessly.
Now, don't get me wrong. We have also learned to respect, but all the unconscious racists and homophobic comments are said too many times as joke to state that we've changed. As I mentioned before, education does anything for this, and a lot of families are very closed-minded. We're raised to believe in heteronormativity and white supremacy as if they were natural laws. Many of us are short, dark-skinned and dark-eyed, so every time we see a tall, blond and blue-eyed person we are awed and have this desire to be like them - they are more accepted, you know, cooler. Our indigenous heritage is something shameful, so that's why we say we're 'half-bloods': yes, we descend from the Incas, but also from Spanish conquerors, so it's all fine. Teenagers dance to reggaeton and pop, but almost none of them to huayno or saya, typical and amazing Peruvian dances. We value our culture, but distance ourselves from it. This new and modern generation is meant to be global, so we don't have to pay attention to them. We drink and smoke, we party and talk about Netflix shows. See? We're like you!
I don't know if my goal of making every person who reads this understand Peruvian context was accomplished. Nowadays, all TV is filled with the same Mexican Telenovelas copies, long, dramatic and unrealistic series that exaggerate society, and trash reality shows that are meant to give us pointless and cheap entertainment. All our pop culture (like going to a minimarket called Tambo and going home on microbuses) is forgotten, avoided, because they'll show the neglected streets, dirty sidewalks and all the other stuff that would put in evidence that we're not as pretty or exotic as the rest of the world thinks. A gay couple who dares to walk and kiss in public is told to leave that place. Sexual assault is diminished and not punished. Islam is almost non-existent and very judged. We need Skam because young people need the representation that awesome show would give us. They could talk about politics because we're also starting to, about feminism because the young women here are not ashamed of it anymore (for the most part), about the LGBT+ Community because homophobic marches and and gender discrimination are allowed and normalized, about other religions besides christianity because the church has to stop it's influence on the Government. My hope for Skam here comes from the wish of a country who is inclusive, multi-colored and respectful of it's multiculturalism. The need of something that shows us as we truly are, flawed but with the possibility of change, is bigger than ever.
#skam#skam italy#skam france#skam españa#skam germany#druck#skam belgium#wtfock#skam nl#skam austin#skam peru#peru
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good morning, today is a better day.
i feel like all my work in the morning for the past 2 days have really helped achieved this feeing of me tal safety. To explain
3 days ago i learned that Gabbi had cut me off. It was hard to find out, i went ahead and slept it off, it meant nothing to me at night. I woke up and the information sunk into my heart. I was at my worst that morning, but i forced nyself to do good to myself. I remember not wanting to move, but i put my clothes in the laundry, showered, meditated, had a good bfast too with black bean noodle and some egg. It was good. Then i had work later with Darren and Dhan. It sucks because i love working with Darren and Dhan but i wasn't in no mood to communicate or talk to anybody. It makes me sad. I went home and facetimed Nicole and she had told me the true meanings as to why Gabbi had cut me off, which included why kiana had cut me off as well.
i went home and showered, got into bed and listened to music the whole time. I didn't want to talk to my parents, i didn't want to do anything bro. I waited for my parents to sleep just so i can eat by myself. I remember crying to Nicole about this moment because i felt like there was no hope for me. I remember late at night i hopelessly texted Kev so that we can talk it out. I needed to talk it out with somebody. Somebody who'd have my back. The insecurity within me had a feeling he wouldn't like what he heard or even lose another friend with him. It turned out well though.
The next day, I did the same stuff. I woke up, showered, did my laundry, made bfast, and even picked up an earlier shift. I usually work 4-9, but on this day i worked 1-9 so i was there longer. It turned out to be good for me. As i mentioned, i had to meet up with kev to talk about it. It was really good for my mental. I feel like i'm really learning how to grow and surround myself with good things nowadays. I guess i've experienced so much people leaving my life and the presence of their absence affecting me had taught me something 😂🤝😂. It's crazy, anyways, Yeah he was able to give me the guidance i needed. He told me that what i did isn't as severe as to what people are doing concurrently. Men are doing much worse than what i've done. He also said something very nice to me near the end, where i was dropping him off at his place. I was playing a logic song, a song off his new album No Pressure, but the song was in the background really so i wasn't paying attention. Kev placed my attention to the song and he said to me that he doesn't want me to be in the fear of being "cancelled" or crossing paths with somebody that doesn't like me because "that's not freedom."
damn.
That's not freedom. The song was "Amen", one of his favorite song off No Pressure. What he said there was something i carried through the whole day. I went to work after i dropped him off and i was thinking about that endlessly. I went to work and Kevin & Will were working. I realized that i like working with Kevin because he actually likes to talk and conversate. He's not as bad as people talk about him. It's merely the opposite, he surprises me. At the beginning he was hard on me when making drinks because, i was learning yenno? But now, when i do something "lazy" i'm surprised that he does the same. He made 3 drinks in a a blender lol. I've gotten condemned for doing such so i don't do it anymore. Anyways, talking and working the first half of the shift was nice. I was happy to talk to him. Kathy and Solo came in later. Solo is always dope, it's hard to talk to him doe because he's quiet as fuck and i like my music loud lol. Then Kathy was where it was at tho. I'll just say what she told me rather than how the conversations went. She told me she used to study film. She wanted to be in Film Production(i think) and went into Film Criticism on accident bc she wasn't looking close enough as to what she was studying or what classes were part of the curriculum. She told me as well that she's married, and that her and her husband used to own a restaurant, an american chinese place like Panda Express. 3 years ago she used to work at a boba shop, a local one in Orange County. I noticed that she refrains from telling me the names of the places she works, maybe those were years she didn't want to remember. It's understandable. 2018 and 2019 are years I do my best not to remember. Typing those years out actually made me reminisce and wow yeah i understand her, suggesting that her bringing up the names were the case as to why she wouldn't wanna talk about them.
Anyways, later in the shift around 6-7 it got busy and i started getting real mentally negative. It was insane to me, i started just drifting off while making drinks and i remember secretly slamming my hand down on bar. It just sounded like normal noise considering things are slammed all the time anyways, so nobody noticed anyways. Later, something crazy happened. I saw a girl come up and she had very familiar eyes. This is where my ability to recognize people astonishes me because I saw this girl's eyes and i recognized her as Noah Abel Cruz's girlfriend. Then i look whose next to him and it was Noah lmao. I had the quickest intuition to discount them, then i pulled out... i didn't tell Kathy to discount them... I wish i did. It was like my authentic self remember 2014, then my older self remember 2017-2018 😂 lmao stupid. I wish i coulda saved them some money in the name of growth. Although, what i did had shown that I was affected by his and my decisions from the past. I didn't appreciate what he's done or said to me in the past. Although, i still made their drinks... i think...? I remember yes, i did make their drinks. This moment i really am not proud of lmao so, it was pretty ass haha. I made their drinks and i remember being done for awhile, and Solo was busy AND KATHY WAS BUSY SO I MIGHT'VE HAD TO BRING THEIR DRINKSS TO THEM. But naw, I was able to hear Kathy's next order i think so i just remember beginning it and then solo came and brought the drinks. What happens later with the Noah story is crazy. from 7:10-7:50 i was going relatively crazy. I was thinking and repeating that moment forever. "shoulda discounted them" "shoulda shown him that i've grown" "should brought their drinks to them" idk. Earlier in the shift i texted Melissa if she could roll my weed because, yesterday with Dhan and Darren, Dhan gave me weed...? LOL Like, i have no form of smoking it but yeah. He just gave it to me, and Melissa agreed to roll my weed. Then i get a snap from Christian that they're both hanging out at the time i text her. I told him that, if they want free boba, come bc we close at 8, and they got excited. They came around 7:50 and were so playful?
They were happy to see me... It was nice to felt needed, or at least produce excitement for somebody. It was nice. I remember somewhat scrambling because solo was making drinks and I wanted to make their drinks and yeah. I made their drinks, said goodbye, etc. Then we closed, nothing much this night, just showered and laud in bed, ate later and watched Japan Sinks (which i don't like lmao, i won't be finishing this series lol). Anyways, yeah. I forgot to mention, the Noah thing. So we closed, i got into my car and called Kevin bc he called me while we were closing. He told me that Noah called him, and told him exactly what i was telling him. Like, "man i felt weird" stuff like that. He was saying that we'll probably reconnect at a listening party in the future at Kevin's. I think i have to organize my feelings with Noah first. Thinking about it now, i'd still feel weird. We'll work on it. I'll work on it. Anyways, yeah. crazy.
Christian, Melissa, Noah, Coworker Kevin, Vrother Kevin, Dhan, Darren, Nicole, all these people enjoy my presence. Even my parents enjoy my presence too. i have to remember this.
today, i will get up, use the restroom, i want to brush my teeth bc i didnt brush last night. I'll come back, make my bed, meditate, then shower, then fold my laundry, Kevin is coming around 12:30 so i'm assuming that we'll probabky eat when he comes. We'll be watching Do The Right Thing and Once Upon A Time In The West, an oldie double feature. It'll be good. Later in the day, i'm going to melissa's so she can roll my weed. I appreciate her. I appreciate kev. Today will be good and i'll further beaing good to myself. Tired of being tired of being tired.
Kiana, Gabbi, Justin, Preet, Bianca, etc. I want you all to know that i'm choosing to grow. I feel like i have potential to achieve greatness in this life. I want to do better for my seed so that my sons or daughters know consent and know how to "read the room" and not make people uncomfortable. I want to teach them and educate them. My nephews and nieces as well. For the future, if i become a teacher, i do want to teach my students as well. I want to become a person of change. I will change, i'll show you all. You can decide to be present for that, if not then...
I wish the best for all of you. I remember a life where i cared for all of you. Thank you for being apart of my journey. I have 0 defenses in my case if i get cancelled, i admit to what i've done. Although, i'm not going to allow that to restrict me from growing and being a better person. If you ask me, why wouldn't cancel culture WANT me to grow and be better? Idk. If i lose more friends to this, I won't be surprised but, yenno what i'll do?
Wake up in the morning, shower, meditate, do my laundry, and eat breakfast. I'm done being a shit-person to others, but it begins with myself. I have to love myself.
Today is day 3 not getting cancelled. I have a dentist appointment sunday. Next week is Julius's bday. Gabbi's too but i won't be celebrating it lol. Then Passdown retreat, then the week after school starts. Then blam. Life keeps going. I will grow.
Thank you Paolo for taking the time to just type this whole thing out... this was also a step towards loving myself. Alright, i have to shit. See yall in my next post. Love you all. Swag.
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03/07/2019 DAB Tranbscript
Numbers 8:1-9:23, Mark 13:14-37, Psalms 50:1-23, Proverbs 10:29-30
Today is the 7th day of March, welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I’m Brian it's great to be here with you today like it is every day no matter what part of the week it is. But it's the end of another of our weeks together and they just…they just keep going by and then just keep going by until we complete our journey. So, it's is wonderful to be here around this Global Campfire bringing to a conclusion another of the weeks that we get to share together, and we’ll take the next step forward in the Scriptures. And we’ve been reading from the English Standard Version this week. And today numbers chapters 8 and 9.
Prayer:
Father, we thank You for another week in Your word and we just keep marking the weeks and You just keep taking us deeper and we take to heart the words of the gospel of Mark today, “stay awake.” This seems to be the theme screaming out of the Gospels, “have eyes to see, stay away.” And we confess the slumber…the slumber of our lives, the way that we get so focused on whatever it is that's happening to make us uncomfortable. If we could just open our eyes, if we could just wake up and see the vastness of Your goodness and the eternal nature, the never ending-ness of it all and that we are in the middle of it, but that our vision is so narrowly focused that we can see, that we are just under the haze of life. We’re slumbering. Awaken us God that we might see You at work in this world in and among us, through us and all around us. We ask this in the name of Jesus. Amen.
Announcements:
dailyaudiobible.com is the website, its home base, its where you find out what’s going on around here. So, certainly stay tuned and stay connected in any way that you can.
Check out the Daily Audio Bible Shop. It is stocked with resources that are for this journey, including our…our journal, including all of the writing…like the journaling stuff. Yeah, if you've come this far in the Scriptures and don't have a journal you might…you might want to grab one somewhere. Every time that the Lord speaks something to you that's meaningful for your life it's such a helpful thing to just kind of document that, to write that down so that you don't forget so that you can go back and be reminded. So, that…those…those resources are available in the Shop.
If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, you can do that at dailyaudiobible.com. There's a link on the homepage and I thank you with all of my heart profoundly for your partnership. If you’re using the Daily Audio Bible app, you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or if, you prefer, the mailing address is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.
And, as always, if you have a prayer request or encouragement, you can hit the Hotline button in the app, the little red button at the top or you can just dial 877-942-4253.
And that's it for today. I'm Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.
Community Prayer and Praise:
Hi beautiful family this is Susan Schultz I’ve been a listener since 2012 but I don’t call in much but I have been the airport liaison for the More conference for seven years and I love you all so much and I pray for you all the time, especially the pilgrims and I love all my More ladies. Hi, I love you. Hope to see you all soon. But I just wanted to call to rejoice with Harold. I have learned through More conference and I even have a jacket that says it, “I can do hard things.” I started running at the ripe old age of 57 two…two summers ago and I have made it my goal to run a half marathon by my 60th birthday which is six 6/6/60. Hey Nora Lee, my other six 6/6/60 DABber. I know that what God has taught me through running is that I can do hard things and when I did my very first...the longest run I’ve ever done since my training started, I was listening to the DAB. It was an 11-mile run and I made it the whole way, but in the middle, I was rejoicing because Harold called in and said that he was saved, and I…I just couldn’t believe it. I mean it’s…we’ve been praying for him since January and I was so excited because my training started in January and he was training and I just…he’s been on my heart ever since. And, so, I just thank you all and love you all. And, so, thank you Jesus…
[singing starts] Have Your way Lord. Have Your way. Have Your way Lord. Have Your way. Have Your way Lord. Have your way. Have your way. Have your way. Someone needs you Lord now today. Someone needs you Lord now today. Someone needs you Lord now today. Have your way. Have your way. Someone’s crying Lord have your way. Someone’s crying Lord have your way. Someone’s crying Lord have your way. Have your way. Have your way [singing stops]. I’d like to ask for prayer for the family and friends of Caleb Mekins a 31-year-old minister who passed away in Ethiopia. This is Blessings Flow in Pennsylvania.
Hello Daily Audio Bible community this is Abiding in His Love from New York. It’s February 29th. This is my first-time calling in. I’ve been listening to the Daily Audio Bible on and off. Today I’m calling in…I actually struggle with calling in. I’ve been trying to call in but every time I put it off and I just want to reach out to the community to pray for myself as a parent for spiritual guidance in helping my daughter. She’s 12 years old and lately she’s been going through some tough times and struggle with self-defeating thoughts. Most days…her days are mostly overshadowed by just feeling oppressed. I know that’s not typical, that’s not of God and the Bible say that He came that we may have life and have it more abundantly. And I’m praying that over my daughter, that whatever spirit of oppression, depression or sadness or self-defeating thoughts, that those will be gone in the name of Jesus and for other parents who are struggling with adolescent children that may be going through the same thing, I pray dear God that we will use our weapon of praying to destroy whatever plans the devil has to destroy our children. So, I ask you guys to keep us in your prayer, to uplift us. My daughter is Kay. I thank you. God bless you.
Proud witness right here in this place
it’s the light of God’s love all over my face
all those who see me they ask me what’s up
it’s the presence of God that’s filling my cup
love overflowing in rivers and streams
causing reflections visions and dreams
dreams of the future reflections of the past
visions and fulfillment of all that I’ve asked
it could be a gesture a word or touch
something so small can accomplish so much
because it comes from you Father up in heaven above
filling me with mercy wisdom and love
helping me to be a blessing today
to all those my Father whom you’ve sent my way
someone who’s hurting someone in need
yet all are desiring to somehow be freed
so help us keep patient and do things your way
help me dear Lord to have the right words to say
someone’s confused about what they heard
longing for the truth that comes only from your word
there’s a powerful witness right here in this place
it’s the light of your love all over my face
[email protected]. Like to give a shout out to Brian, Jill, Max, China, China, Ezekiel and Christian, you know, the whole Hardin family. Thank you so much for this wonderful podcast for God’s Holy Spirit to flow. Keep it flowing y’all. And it was so nice hearing Jill’s voice again. I haven’t heard you in a long time. Sounds good.
Hello DAB listeners my name is Janice and I’m in Illinois. I’m here to report that I’m not just a DABber nor double DABber. I am a triple DABber. Because of a difficult trial I am going through right now I have many sleepless nights. So, instead of laying in my bed worrying and stewing over my troubles I listen to DABC and DAB for Kids and I let God’s words wash over me. I’ve been listening to Brian since the end of the first year of broadcasting DAB. China I was listening the year that you went to India with your dad. As a second-grade teacher in a Christian school I would use those DAB for Kids in my classroom. You were 11 years old. This year they are replaying that first year of DAB for kids. DABber’s, what a blessing it is to hear China and her dad teaching the Bible together. Then I listen to China, the grown-up. Oh my, what an incredible wisdom God has granted you China. So, I am a triple DABber and God’s word is carrying me through this, the most difficult time I’ve ever gone through. Thank, you China for obeying the Lord’s calling on your life. Thank you, Brian and Jill for bringing your children up at the feet of Jesus.
Hi this is Asia from Chicago it’s March 1st and I just heard Tony the Narrator or Tony the Narrator if you say it like him. Hey man. I’m so glad that you called in such a vulnerable spot. I just was really moved and heartbroken to hear you speaking and crying about your ex-wife and her boyfriend and it’s just so…I just can’t…I just…I can’t even fathom how hard marriage, loss, and divorce and marriage breakup could be. I…just this week had just a guy that he and I were talking and then we had a conversation and decided that we were gonna just be friends and it was so hard for me it was really sad. And I just can’t even imagine, I mean a hundredfold the anguish that you must be enduring right now, and I just want you to know that it’s okay to lament, it’s okay to grieve. It’s so hard. It’s not what we want. It’s never what we want, right? And we can do everything we can to distract ourselves. But I’m so proud of you for being brave and strong, for calling it like it is instead of, you know, putting a fake, a pseudo-silver lining over it. “Oh, it’s going to be fine, I’m good, Jesus is good.” Like those are all true things and it is good but brother, kudos to you for being strong and admitting when you are weak. And I’m here for you and I’m praying for you and I love you. This is Asia from Chicago.
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Christian Question and Answer: Why Did God Incarnate to Work in the Age of Grace?
By Xiang Wang
Many brothers and sisters in the Lord all feel confused: In the Age of Law, Jehovah God did His work and led the Israelites in Spirit, so why must God become flesh to work and save man in the Age of Grace? Couldn’t He do that work in a spiritual body?
On this question, I’ll share a bit of my understanding. As a matter of fact, every stage of God’s work is done based on the needs of corrupt mankind and also according to the steps of God’s plan of managing mankind. In the Age of Law, because mankind was minimally corrupted, what they needed was not God’s work of redemption. They only needed God to promulgate laws and commandments so that they could be aware of their sins and know how to worship God and how to live on earth. At that time, as long as mankind obeyed the laws and commandments, they could receive God’s care, protection, blessings, and grace. Therefore, in the Age of Law, God didn’t need to incarnate Himself to do His work.
At the end of the Age of Law, however, since mankind had become more and more corrupt, they couldn’t uphold the law anymore. After sinning, they had no adequate sacrifices to offer and so they made inferior offerings to Jehovah God. Everyone was facing the danger of being put to death according to the law. Thus, in order to save mankind from being condemned by the law, God personally became flesh and was crucified for mankind to redeem them from the clutches of Satan, so that man would no longer be executed by the law because of sinning.
So why didn’t God perform the redemption work in the Spirit? It is because God is Spirit, formless and amorphous, so if He doesn’t become flesh, He can’t be nailed to the cross and can’t be mankind’s sin offering. Just as Jehovah God said to Moses: “You can not see my face: for there shall no man see me, and live” (Exodus 33:20). The corrupt mankind can’t come into direct contact with God’s Spirit. If man were to come into contact with God’s Spirit, they would be smitten by God. If so, how could God redeem mankind? Moreover, since man can’t see God’s Spirit, he can only use his brain to imagine what kind of God God is, what disposition He has, and what His essence is. However, such understanding is not practical or precise. Besides, if God’s Spirit worked on man, giving man enlightenment, illumination, moving, and guidance, this would give man a sense of the mysterious and the unimaginable. So it wouldn’t be easy for man who has a mind and has been deeply corrupted by Satan to accurately understand God’s will, so man would feel a sense of estrangement from God. In this way, it would be impossible for God’s redemption work to be effective.
But the work of God in the flesh is different. God incarnate can practically interact with men, live among them, take part in their lives, and support, provide for, and teach them at any time. He can use the language of men to clearly tell mankind His demands, His will, His disposition, and all that He has and is. In this way, without having to cast about and search, men can clearly understand God’s will and know God’s work, so that they have a clear goal and direction and the accurate path of practice for believing in God. For example, we can understand from the Lord Jesus’ words what kind of people can enter into the kingdom of heaven, and that we should forgive others seventy times seven times, love our neighbor as ourselves, and be tolerant and patient to others, etc. From the utterances and work of the incarnate God, we can practically feel God’s love and compassion for mankind. God in the flesh has sympathy for mankind’s weakness and gives sinners chances to repent. As long as man sincerely repents and confesses before God, he can gain God’s pardon and forgiveness without having to give offerings. In this way, man no longer needs to be worried about being put to death according to the law when he sins and has no offering, and can break free from the bondage and shackles of the law. The work of God in the flesh can also reveal which believers have real faith and which believers are hypocritical, and let man know what type of person God likes and what type of person disgusts Him. For instance: The Pharisees were the leaders in the synagogues, and they read the Bible well, strictly followed the regulations of the law, purposely engaged in long prayers, and wrote scriptures on tassels of their garments. The Jewish people all thought they were the people who piously served God and thus imitated and followed them. However, the Lord Jesus revealed the essence and truth of the Pharisees’ hypocrisy, and repeatedly condemned and cursed them, saying “woe to you,” which has given believers in God discernment. All of this is brought by God incarnate, and the work of the Spirit simply cannot achieve this effect.
As God’s word says: “The work that is of greatest value to corrupt man is that which provides accurate words, clear goals to pursue, and which can be seen and touched. Only realistic work and timely guidance are suited to man’s tastes, and only real work can save man from his corrupt and depraved disposition. This can only be achieved by the incarnate God; only the incarnate God can save man from his formerly corrupt and depraved disposition.”
It is now the last days. We humans have been deeply corrupted by Satan and all follow the evil trends of society. Relationships between people are built on the foundation of money and benefits. People have already lost all conscience and reason, and those who have believed in the Lord for many years are no exception. All their actions are according to their own will. They attack and belittle each other for their own fame, fortune, and status. They are arrogant and have no reverence for God, living in the state of committing sins and confessing them. Their sins are more serious than those of the people who lived in the Age of Law and they are more evil and corrupt. Just as the Bible says: “For men shall be lovers of their own selves, covetous, boasters, proud, blasphemers, disobedient to parents, unthankful, unholy, Without natural affection, truce breakers, false accusers, incontinent, fierce, despisers of those that are good, Traitors, heady, high minded, lovers of pleasures more than lovers of God” (2 Timothy 3:2-4). If in the last days, God worked in Spirit to bring the age to an end, then none of us corrupt humans could be saved and we would only be smitten by God and perish. This wasn’t God’s original intention when He made man. His management plan is to save man and bring those who are purified into a new heaven and a new earth. For this reason, God must become flesh again in the last days to work and save mankind, which contains His good intentions for mankind’s salvation.
The Bible says: “I have yet many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now. However, when he, the Spirit of truth, is come, he will guide you into all truth: for he shall not speak of himself; but whatever he shall hear, that shall he speak: and he will show you things to come” (John 16:12-13). “For as the lightning, that lightens out of the one part under heaven, shines to the other part under heaven; so shall also the Son of man be in his day” (Luke 17:24). “He that has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches” (Revelation 2:29). “My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me” (John 10:27).
From these prophecies, we can clearly see that when God comes back in the last days, He will come secretly as the Son of man to express the truth and do His work. When it comes to the Son of man, it refers to the incarnate God who is born from a human and has both normal humanity and complete divinity. The Lord Jesus also prophesied that when He returns in the last days, we corrupt mankind will resist and reject Him because we don’t love the truth and don’t know God. Just as the Lord Jesus said: “But first must he suffer many things, and be rejected of this generation” (Luke 17:25). However, for those who love the truth and long for God’s appearance, when they hear the news of the Lord’s return, they will be able to seek and investigate with a God-revering heart. It’s like Peter, John, and other disciples: When the Lord Jesus became flesh to work, they could humbly seek and pay attention to listening to the Lord’s voice. In the end, they followed the Lord and received His salvation. It is hoped that all of us can be someone like Peter and John who humbly seeks, puts aside their own conceptions, and accepts the truth, so that we can recognize God’s voice from His words, follow His footsteps, and receive His salvation of the last days.
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The Death Penalty and the Myth of Closure
Many argue that the death penalty can help survivors move on with their lives. However, this counselor writes that true healing can happen only when we learn to "walk with the pain."
The death penalty has been with us for millennia. If you take the time to read the Old Testament, you will find that the death penalty was widely accepted. We find in the words of Exodus the justification invoked to this day to defend the use of executions: “You shall give life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burn for burn, wound for wound, stripe for stripe” (21:23–25).
This is known as Mosaic law and is an integral part of our legal system. And yet Jesus came to challenge it: “You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say to you, offer no resistance to one who is evil. When someone strikes you on [your] right cheek, turn the other one to him as well” (Mt 5:38–39).
What a truly radical notion! In the Old Testament, one sees that violence was a way of life, and execution was a primary tool for meting out justice. But Jesus sweeps that all away.
As with many things Jesus said, excuses have been made and qualifiers added: Love your enemy . . . except when he is a murderer. Then you are justified to kill him, a conclusion that sounds very much like Mosaic law.
Desire for Vengeance Is Real
On the other hand, even if we accept Jesus’ teaching, turning the other cheek is not that simple. I can’t simply say, “Well, Patterson, you claim to be a Christian, so you must love your enemy and oppose the death penalty.” I also understand the desire for vengeance.
Some years ago when I was an Army psychologist, I was tasked with evaluating a man arrested for beating his 3-month-old stepdaughter within an inch of her life on Christmas Eve. It had already been determined that the child suffered irreversible brain damage. As I was interviewing the man, I received a call from the pediatric ICU informing me she had also been blinded. I hung up and told this man that news. He shrugged his shoulders and said, “Oh, well.”
In that moment, I wanted to jump across my desk, grab him by the throat, and beat him within an inch of his life! As I think about him almost 40 years later, I have the same feeling. I am not proud of that, but it also helps me to be sensitive to the feelings of survivors when it comes to discussions of the death penalty. It reminds me to be sensitive to survivors’ need for justice and, possibly, vengeance.
Many justifications for executions set aside the language of Mosaic law and focus on possible benefits for the surviving family. One doesn’t so much hear the word vengeance in such discussions, but one does hear the word closure. A common justification for the death penalty is that it provides closure for the family.
When Boston Marathon bomber Dzhokhar Tsarnaev was sentenced to death, the mayor of Boston expressed the hope that “this verdict provides a small amount of closure.” Similarly, when the decision was made to allow survivors of the Oklahoma City bombing to witness the execution of Timothy McVeigh, Attorney General John Ashcroft stated that he hoped the execution would help survivors “meet their need to close this chapter in their lives.”
Whether executions provide closure depends on what we mean by that word. For most of us, closure implies a completion or conclusion. When a corporation announces store closures, that means those stores are no longer operational. So, in discussing the process of grief and trauma, closure would seem to imply a conclusion—the suggestion that there is an end point to grieving.
This expectation of closure is sometimes supported within a person’s social network. At this time, I am counseling several parents of children who committed suicide. All have commented on encountering, either directly or indirectly, the message “Aren’t you over it by now?”
Think for a moment of the people in your life you have lost. Are you no longer grieving? If I think of loved ones who are gone, I become aware that I may be grieving those losses for the rest of my days. My grief may not be as intense as it was at the time of the loss. But reminders of someone’s absence in my life help me see that grief goes on, that there is no closure in the sense of conclusion to my grief. There’s no point at which I dust myself off and say, “OK, I’m done missing that person.”
The Myth of Closure
In her book Closure: The Rush to End Grief and What It Costs Us, Professor Nancy Berns makes the compelling argument that the concept of closure has emerged within a political context to justify the death penalty and as a “made-up concept: a frame used to explain how we respond to loss.” It has become such a common word in discussions about grief that people assume it exists and is within their reach. In fact, its prevalence reflects the hope we all have that we can heal from the devastation of tragedy and trauma.
For some, closure means the conclusion to a very public process of crime, arrest, trial, and multiple appeals. Anecdotal evidence suggests that indeed the execution provides that sense of closure. But the word closure also implies healing and completion. Evidence suggests that not only does the death penalty not facilitate healing but, in fact, may interfere with it.
In his 2007 study of families of murder victims, Scott Velum found that only 2.5 percent indicated a strong sense of closure resulted from the execution of the murderer. A study published in the Marquette Law Review compared survivors’ reactions in Minnesota and Texas. Killers in Minnesota were sentenced to life imprisonment, an outcome that was experienced as satisfying by survivors. Texas survivors were less satisfied by death penalty verdicts, in large part because of the prolonged appeals process.
As Bill and Denise Richards, parents of a 9-year-old boy killed in the Boston Marathon bombings, wrote in the Boston Globe, asking that the government not seek the death penalty, “The continued pursuit of that punishment could bring years of appeals and prolong the most painful day of our lives.”
Jody Madeira worked with and studied survivors of the Oklahoma City bombings. In her book Killing McVeigh: The Death Penalty and the Myth of Closure, she noted that Timothy McVeigh’s execution did not provide the kind of closure some survivors may have hoped for. As one survivor noted, “There won’t be closure till I am dead.”
The Path to Healing
Are survivors then simply left in anguish, or is some form of healing possible? Perhaps rather than talking about closure, we should be talking about healing.
Sociologist Loren Toussaint suggests that healing is possible through the process of forgiveness. Madeira agrees that forgiveness can help but argues that it is not the only path to healing. This is a delicate topic that must be approached carefully and without judgment. Forgiveness can indeed help survivors heal, but it isn’t that simple. Forgiveness is a process, one that can last a lifetime.
First, let’s be clear on what forgiveness isn’t. Forgiveness does not mean condoning—a distinction relevant to people dealing with someone on death row. Forgiveness does not minimize what was done. The bombings in Boston will never be acceptable. The 9/11 attacks can never be dismissed in terms of the personal trauma. The murder of a loved one will never be OK. After all, the God of my understanding is indeed a God of mercy, but also a God of justice.
Then there is the common phrase forgive and forget. Not only is that often not possible, but in some cases it’s not a good idea. If someone has assaulted me, I may need to forgive that person, but it may not be a good idea for me to invite him or her over for dinner. That person may have no remorse and might assault me again.
The first step in forgiving is making the decision to forgive. The important thing to realize in making this decision is that the person who will benefit most from forgiving is the forgiver. Forgiving frees the forgiver from all the negative venom of hatred and resentment. Essentially, to forgive is to reclaim power from the forgiven. Professor Madeira quotes Oklahoma City bombing survivor Bud Welch as saying about forgiving Timothy McVeigh: “I was the one that got relief from all this pain . . . and it wasn’t about McVeigh.”
Sometimes we confuse forgiveness with reconnecting with someone in a loving way. That reconnecting is a decision that I may make after I have forgiven. I also have the option of not having the offender in my life. In other words, to forgive doesn’t necessarily mean to reconcile with someone.
To forgive means I also have to face all my rage and anger, all my thoughts of vengeance. We can’t sidestep the emotions. I have sat with some people who experienced tragedy or trauma and afterwards stated, rather flatly, “I’ve forgiven that person,” without any acknowledgment of the pain inflicted by that person. This to me is an intellectual exercise, not an experience of true forgiveness.
Learning to Walk with the Pain
In exploring alternatives to the prevalent concept of closure, we also need to broaden our understanding of grief. The concept of closure may have its roots in Elisabeth Kübler-Ross’ famous five stages of dying. That theory has been broadened to include grief. The fifth stage is acceptance. Like closure, this notion has many meanings.
What does it mean to accept the death of a loved one? Again, some kind of finality is suggested, a sort of conclusion to the grieving. I have sat with persons who judged themselves because they did not feel they were finished grieving. Others had well-meaning friends and relatives suggest they should be “over it by now” or that they hadn’t “accepted” the death because they were still grieving.
Over the years I have dealt with many people who came to see me because someone else was concerned about them or, more often, because they themselves questioned whether they were grieving correctly.
I recall one beautiful woman who came to see me after the death of her husband of 50-plus years. She was concerned whether she was grieving correctly. She stated that well-meaning friends had given her a stack of books on grieving. Not wanting to disappoint anyone, she read them all. When I asked what she thought after all that reading, she told me: “I’m completely confused. They contradict one another.”
So what did I do? I gave her a book to read! Only it wasn’t an edition of Grieving for Dummies. It was C.S. Lewis’ A Grief Observed, his journal written the first year after the death of his beloved wife, Joy. The book has no easy answers, and, at its conclusion, it is clear that Lewis will continue to grieve. There is no nice, clean ending. No closure. Only Lewis trying to learn to walk with the pain.
In dealing with losses in my own life, what works for me is to view grieving as a process of learning to walk with the pain. This suggests that, because of a particular loss, my life is changed forever. I am challenged to find a way to move forward living my life as well as possible while at the same time carrying the loss. This is especially true for those who’ve lost a loved one through some criminal act, be it murder or terrorism.
To learn to walk with the pain has several facets. One is to make the decision not to let the trauma define the loved one’s life. It is to affirm that I will not be known as the parent of that girl or boy who was murdered. Rather, I will be known as the parent of a child who touched lives in a beautiful way before leaving life much too soon.
Another facet of walking with the pain is to facilitate the loved one’s legacy. Such legacies may take the form of charitable donations or even the establishment of a charity. Others might establish a scholarship fund. Some get tattoos or plant trees. Such actions don’t make pain go away, but they create a legacy that has some meaning.
For me, acceptance means acknowledging that life is now different, and that I will be walking with this pain until I meet my loved one again in a better place. That may be the only real closure.
By Richard B. Patterson, PhD
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For God or Country? Violet Evergarden and Divided Allegiance
You may not have realized that Veterans Day last year was an especially significant one, marking the 100th anniversary of the WWI armistice. I usually don’t think much of the day, honestly—I thank my father for his service, post a grateful message on Facebook, and then the day pass, but perhaps because of commemoration last year, I thought a little more on it, and especially about the patriotism I feel towards my country. Those feelings aren’t as pronounced in me as they once were, whether because of the state of divide currently in the nation or—and I think this more likely in my case—I don’t constantly pull in patriotic ideas as I once did. I grew up as a military brat and frequented army bases, so love for my country was in the very fabric of my youth. But when I moved away from parents and military installations, I saw my patriotic furor start to slow. I still identify as a proud American, but I’m certainly not as fiercely loyal to my nation as I once was. I don’t think that’s altogether a bad thing, but it is a little confusing.
In the Netflix series, Violet Evergarden, the title character walks a similar line. Modified and trained to be a loyal soldier, once the war (styled after WWI) ends, Violet learns to adapt to civilian life. It’s not an easy adjustment—as for many soldiers, the subtleties, customs, and casualness of civilian life are lost on her. However, one challenge she doesn’t have to deal with is in shedding her national identity—it was given up long ago when she decided to fully move over from one allegiance to another, from that of a combatant for her country to identifying instead as Gilbert’s “dog,” the personal weapon to Major Gilbert Bougainvillea. Love for country, if there ever was any (and also depending on how you would define the concept, which the series goes into in great detail), has been replaced by love for a person, and not just love—loyalty, dedication, and allegiance.
As a Christian, my allegiance is to God first, but there was a time where I was confused…where does allegiance to one’s nation fit into my identity? Like a dual citizenship, could I show allegiance to both God and country? Was I making my country an idol? That discomforted me, because I didn’t want to think that all I grew up valuing had to be dismissed on account my faith. I wasn’t ready to let that go.
But that thought offered some insight into my shortcomings as a child of God, into my inability to worship him alone. I find it compelling how easy it was for Violet to make such a decision. Certainly, her life before Gilbert was terrible and so maybe it wasn’t as hard for her to let that go…but then again, maybe it was difficult. Raised in a servile manner, brainwashed to be a dog of the military, it couldn’t have been easy to untrain Violet’s mind. But the Violet we see throughout the series has shifted her dedication entirely.
Gilbert treats Violet with kindness. He tends her wounds and teaches her, giving her value as a human when before, she was only a weapon. He even gives her a name, one that demonstrates that only is she beautiful as a flower, but she is beautiful to him. He’s given her meaning and entrusted her with his love—having received these wonderful gifts, Violet would betray her country for him in a heartbeat if he asked her to.
I wonder…would I do the same for my love?
Thankfully, I’m not being asked to do so, and, as I matured, I understood the idea that my allegiance to God trumps all other allegiances, meaning I could still be loyal to my country, still treasure it, but not above all, not above God. My ultimate allegiance is to Christ, he who gives me a name, who treats my wounds, who sacrificed himself that I might live. My hope is that I’ll cherish those gifts, that I would treasure Christ as he has treasured me. And in doing so, if push comes to shove and I have to choose between two masters—which increasingly becomes a possibility in this fragmented country—that I’ll be able to demonstrate that like Violet, my own allegiance is ultimately undivided and I really only have one master, and one love, after all.
Featured art by Nagu (artist allows reprints)
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i told ya’ll i would end up doing this lmao. anyways, once again i’m xan ( she/they ) and this is my non-rushed intro for my disaster son christian! a proper intro of myself is that i’m busy this semester and i hate it so much but you gotta put in the work to get that degree amirite? i’m pretty much a giant ball of stress at the moment, but i know it’ll all work out, but anyways, you guys came for a proper background on christian, so i hope you guys like this version a little better! and it might be long i’m sorry i’m nutty.
christian dempsey avecedo was born to a young and unprepared couple in anchorage, alaska. by the time of his birth, his mom and dad ended their relationship. his father left almost immediately following the breakup, so his mom raised him as a single mother. due to not having a father present at the time of christian’s birth, he ended up receiving his mother’s last name.
i switched the ethnicities of dylan’s parents irl so in this case christian’s mom is of spanish descent instead of his father, which is why his last name is avecedo.
christian’s mom knew that she didn’t want to raise him in anchorage, so she ultimately packed him up along with their minimal possessions when he was eighteen months old; they ended up moving to winsted, ct. his mom attended community college since that was all she could afford being 20 and a single mom, but she also worked two jobs while attending school.
while they had family that lived in connecticut, christian’s mom didn’t want to rely on her family constantly when it came to his care. as a toddler, there were often times where christian would go to class with his mom.
as he got to school age, christian developed an interest in both math and science. as a baby/toddler, his mom noticed that he didn’t like toys that did a lot of singing, but instead the toys that made him think. when he started school, he excelled in those portions of learning, often winning science fairs and participating in school organizations like math club, decathlon, and things of the like.
while he was in elementary school, his mom finally graduated and became a registered nurse. she was able to purchase a modest farmhouse for the two of them and she continues to reside him winsted to this day.
fast forward to high school and christian is pretty the epitome of the best student. he excelled in all of his academics, but of course he did very well in math and science. when it came to choosing colleges, christian had his mind set on MIT, but he still worried about the money even though there are grants and scholarships out there. however, he just knew that it would be a lot of loans he’d have to take out.
christian applied to yale out of the encouragement of his mom; she was always super proud of him in everything he did, so he applied without thinking he’d end up with a full academic scholarship to the school. he ultimately graduated high school as valedictorian with a 4.36 GPA, a 2360 on his SAT based on the old scoring, and a boat load of AP and honors courses.
anyways, now at yale, christian is a double major in mechanical engineering and mathematics with aspirations of getting his masters in aerospace engineering. he’s a graduating senior this year, so he’s in his final stretch of his undergrad and his fifth year since he has double majors.
christian has always had an interest in space and robotics, but his dream job would be working at NASA. he specifically would like to be an aerospace engineer specializing in heat transfer or an electronics engineer w/ telecommunications.
his schedule is pretty jam-packed between honor council, his fraternity ( sigma omega epsilon ) and the lacrosse team. i need to send this change the main because i thought he was gonna be a doctor, but he proved me wrong!
he’s also a TA for a numerical methods class, so that class doubles as his job and fulfilling a major requirement so he’s pretty damn busy since he usually spends his time between the honor council meeting, fraternity meetings, lacrosse practice, and grading papers. he’ll sometimes teach the numerical methods classes on the days the professor is absent, so he’s freaking busy.
christian’s personality is pretty chilled out, even though he’s a major asshole. he’s the type to half listen, to let things go in one ear and out of the ear, and to overall be pretty nonchalant with conversation. he’s that way with everyone he knows ( except for his momma! ), so it’s never an element of him hating you unless he just hates you. if you come across him at parties, he’s the guy who just casually drinks and spends his time mixing and mingling. he doesn’t really go to parties to get drunk, but to relax and unwind.
if he’s really angry, though, i would suggest steering clear. if he’s turning red and his hands are balling into fists, he’s real pissed and it’s the one trait he gets from his dad.
i stopped labeling/announcing my charas’ sexuality a while ago because i felt like i was limiting myself with plots and such, but christian is pansexual as hell so he’s pretty open to everything! he’s the kind of guy who makes lasting relationships based on personalities.
as for plots, i’m open to brainstorm or go based on chemistry, whichever is the most comfortable for you! some specific plots i would love to have are best friends, ex best friends, rivals, academic rivals, enemies, frenemies, flirtationship, ex gf/bf, on and off, toxic fwbs, ex fwbs, current fwbs, hookup, ex hookup, former friends, strictly hookups, squad/clique, good/bad influence, first loves, confidant, and literally anything else!
i’m very sorry for pretty much reposting the same intro, but the last one seemed so rushed to me and like i didn’t give actual detail so here’s me trying again! like i said, i’ll be on for plotting and the like once i’m finished with my homework, so i’ll see you guys then!
#yale:intro#this version is so much better#i'm sorry i'm highkey a perfectionist#i queued this @ 2am that's who i am :(
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