P R E A C H E R

❝ i lost my wife and daughter, but i never lost hope. with christ in our heart, we will never lose hope, never lose the ones we lost. with god, we are FREE. ( ind. original character. written by devin. trigger heavy. )

Send me ₩ for my muse to sit in your muse's lap

[beedork]

contcs:

also if you’re cool with pre-established relationships/dynamics where we skip all the awkwardness of starting to roleplay with someone new and jump straight to plotting a little and tagging each other in stuff hmu

[astronautly]

[christhauntedsouth]

by Scott MacInnis

[seeyoucomin-blog1]

Send one for a kiss from my muse.

👄 a kiss on the lips

⚪️ a kiss on the cheek

🔷 a kiss on the eyelid

⬛️ a kiss on the hand

▫️ a kiss on the forehead

♦️ a kiss on the ear

🔘 a kiss on a bruise/wound/etc.

〰 a kiss on the chest

🔃 a kiss on the leg

🔶 a kiss on the neck

🔻 a kiss on the nose

[seeyoucomin-blog1]

sinkingsong !

Her laughter bounces against the marble walls; it echoes, it swells, it turns into something UNHOLY. She’s way past DRUNK — she’s almost sober again, if not for that subtle lack of inhibitions that makes her believe this is a smart IDEA. After all, she’s been looking for herself everywhere; at the bottom of a bottle, in the depths of the ocean, on the trafficked highway at night, with the headlights off. What HARM could a church do? Morgan buries her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket, shrugging. “This ain’t a POLICE station, as far as I can see”. One eyebrow raised, she’s questioning her presence there just as much as his. “You don’t look like a COP, either”.

          there’s a hint of a smile on his face, despite the strangers state. he should turn her away, hand her to someone more competent but there’s something about her. she’s not EMPTY, she’s not hollow like this town, like this church. there’s something about her, yet he can’t quite put his finger on it. ❝ your sins. ❞ he clarifies with a chuckle, throwing his rag down on the pew and putting his hands in his pockets. ❝ i’m no cop, just your every day PREACHER. ❞

[seeyoucomin-blog1]

          the smell of alcohol, something he’d recognize anywhere. hell, the whole TOWN reeks of it yet he doesn’t know if it’s all in his mind of everyone chooses to ignore it. either way, he can smell it on the ginger in front of him and it takes his all not to recoil from it. instead, he fiddles with the white collar that feels like it STINGS more and more each day, but he ignores that too, instead giving his attention to the girl standing in the middle of the empty church, unsure of what she WANTS. instead of seeming confrontational, he goes back to cleaning the church pews.

                    ❝ come to confess? ❞

@sinkingsong !!

[seeyoucomin-blog1]

guiiiltyman !

            theres no particular reason for everett to be here — on this bench, in this TOWN, but he cannot leave. he has never been able to leave. as he watches the other, he’s itching for another cigarette. his fingers twitch, so he brings his hand up, bites at his nails in a ( disgusting, UNCONTROLLABLE ) habit. his leg bounces, and that smirk of his slowly comes to an end. his lips are set in a firm line, although his head cocks to the side in mild curiosity. 

          ❝ you really think i’m a sinner, preacher ? the last time i confessed, huh ? hm — when i was about sixteen. my mama dragged me by the ear to the li’l ol’ church down the road. ain’t been to church since. had no reason to go. ❞

          ❝ i think everybody’s a sinner. quite frankly, we all got the ability to sin which, in turn, makes us exactly that. SINNERS. ❞ his answer comes easily, even if the other’s smirk is gone. it feels like everything is gone, a silence settles in the background that just isn’t right. ❝ i don’t see no mamas around here, so whatcha doin’ here now? ❞

          an honest question out of the preacher because he’s genuinely curious. other then the regulars that fill up a few of his pews every week, remy isn’t used to strangers anymore. he welcomes them, of course, but no one NEW ever shows up at the church -- those who come will come and those who stay away stay away.

[seeyoucomin-blog1]

guiiiltyman replied to your post:@ everyone following me: thank u so much…. now i...

i love u so much

i love u too !!

[seeyoucomin-blog1]

@ everyone following me: thank u so much.... now i HAVE to finish his bio today

[seeyoucomin-blog1]

guiiiltyman !

           oh, if only that infamous smirk of his would disappear. everett takes another drag of that cigarette, looking the other up && down slowly, carefully. he tilts his head back, blows the smoke towards the ( always ) gray sky before stubbing the cigarette out on the bottom of his boot. he flicks it somewhere across the yard, watches it disappear into the uncut grass, before giving the preacher his full attention. his own red-rimmed eyes blink a few times, adjusting, before he rests his chin in his hand.

                   ❝ well, whatever it is, it must be givin’ ya some TROUBLE. what, got some sins y’haven’t confessed, preacher ? anythin’ that makes you wanna repent ? ❞

          uneasiness. that’s the feeling the preacher can feel spread through his limbs, through his MIND but it has nothing to do with the sinner in front of him. maybe it’s the cigarette smoke, maybe it’s because it’s ALLOWED to leave. what a silly thing to allow smoke to do. his attention dips back to the other, his permanent frown in tow as he sits down to take a good look at the smoker. he looks like every other damn kid in this town, like every other person who stumbles into his church every sunday, except he DOESN’T. 

                    ❝ trouble? ain’t givin’ me no trouble. my hands are free of sins unlike yours. when’s the last time YOU confessed, huh? ❞

[cultvessel]

Louisiana Gothic

Crawfish shells rot on your picnic table out back. They’ve turned a light pink color and flies buzz around everywhere. When you look again, they’re gone. The buzzing and the stench remain. They will never leave.

Your dog has eaten a frog and foams at the mouth. “Another poisonous one.” your father remarks, washing out your dog’s mouth as your mother calls the pet clinic. This happens daily. You wonder if your dog is really still alive.

It is hot in church on Sunday, and you question why you went. You are not a religious person. You try to ask one of your friends later, but cannot. Everyone here goes to church. To stay home is blasphemy. To stay home from church is a death sentence.

You plant radishes in the spring. Rain washes them away. Rain always washes your radishes away. You always plant radishes in the spring. Everyone does.

“Don’t pick those magnolia flowers.” your neighbor warns as you walk your bike down the driveway. “They’re bad luck.” One lands on him as you look up at him. You don’t bother to look for him tomorrow and stay alert for more. No one wants to be chosen by the magnolias.

Vines grow over everything. Your newest neighbor, from somewhere in New York, has only just found this out. His newly built home is covered in vines. His cat, which slept outside for too long, is also covered in vines. You get up from your swing on the front porch and go inside before they can reach you, too.

[casctiel]

[seeyoucomin-blog1]

guiiiltyman !

          he sits in complete silence, legs crossed with an elbow on his knee. he lets a cigarette burn away between his fingers; he’s watching the smoke, utterly mesmerized by the way it dissipates in the air. it’s beautiful, if you sit && think about it. but he takes a drag, lets that silver smoke fill his lungs && taint them before he releases it into the air. it’s not so beautiful now. a brow raises when he hears someone speak, but he doesn’t find himself registering it at first. he glances in the male’s direction, a playful smirk on his lips.

                   ❝ you talkin’ crazy or just mumblin’ daily prayer to yourself ? ❞

— @seeyoucomin ( starter call. )

          he’s tired. he can’t remember the last time he slept ( has he slept at all? ) but he doesn’t dwell on it. the cool morning air stings his cheeks and it’s enough to keep him awake ( just another hour, just another hour ), to keep him MOVING. he barely pays attention to the other, letting himself get lost in thought instead. there’s something peaceful about being alone with your thoughts, something CONCRETE in the abstract of it all. or maybe that’s just the preacher in him talking. or the lack of sleep.

                    ❝ neither. guess i was just thinkin’ out loud. ❞

[seeyoucomin-blog1]

siiinnerman replied to your post:TAG DUMP.

gay

shit u right i gotta go

[seeyoucomin-blog1]

TAG DUMP.

[seeyoucomin-blog1]

test

test