So Stunning - Blog Posts

le spy...............

Here to share one of my favourite clips of XtraOrdinarY

yeah i think im gonna block you forever now

— Sun Bleached Flies .ᐟ

CHARACTERS: PASTOR’S DAUGHTER!TASHI x FEM!READER WORD COUNT: 2.4k CW: religious guilt, LOTS of internalized homophobia, general angst 

a/n: okay this isn’t 100% accurate to christianity and such… i tried though… i tried so hard… please don’t hate me… i hope you enjoy! <3 (and i'm apologizing now) link to main post!

— Tashi shouldn’t be feeling this. 

She knows she shouldn’t. She’s the Pastor’s daughter. This is wrong. Blasphemous. Sacrilegious. 

The way she feels when she looks at you sitting beside her in the front pew, when she sees you standing with your family at Sunday service, and she feels the need to grasp onto the cross hanging around her neck, like a lifeline in stormy waters, to remind herself that what she feels for you isn’t right. 

You’ve always been a little different than the rest of your family and the church, and it doesn’t go unnoticed. Not outwardly different, no, you dress and maintain yourself the same, but there’s just something about your behaviour that stands out in an inexplicable way. 

Tashi watches you from her spot next to her father, you laughing with your family, looking around the church when the conversation is about something dull and uninteresting. When your eyes lock on hers, and your face lights up with a small wave, she realizes she’s been caught staring, and her brain short circuits. She can feel the blood rushing to her cheeks, the way her whole body goes warm, and her hand grabs her necklace with such a force it almost tugs it clean off her neck. 

Only after you chuckle at her reaction does she give a small wave back, her smile forced and tight-lipped as she looks away and stares at one of the various icons of Jesus surrounding the church, begging him to plead with his father for forgiveness. 

When she looks back to where you were standing, you’re already gone.

She lays awake that night, head angled back into her pillow so she can stare at the cross hanging high on the wall above her headboard, her mind racing with the thoughts about you that she wishes she could block out. 

The way you look when you’re sitting on the pew, or kneeling during service when she sneaks glances beside her while her head is bowed and resting on her hands, or walking up to the front for communion. The way your skin looks so soft, and your eyes sparkle, and your body moves. The way you’d look–

No. 

Bad Tashi. 

God loves her, but not enough to save her. Not if she keeps thinking like this. 

So she shuts her eyes, rolling onto her side and curling into herself, almost in fetal position, as though she can find some way to be reborn, reborn without these thoughts fueled by Satan, reborn as a normal girl. Reborn as a normal girl who does as she’s supposed to, as a normal girl who likes boys.

When she does fall asleep, it’s restless, plagued by the thoughts of her abnormality, of her wants, her desires. 

But the sun rises and sets, days passing. Each night just as restless and guilt-filled as the next. 

She thinks that if she doesn’t acknowledge it, if she doesn’t speak it, if she just keeps pushing it down, it won’t be true. It can’t be. 

So Tashi tries to keep her thoughts in check, staying with her father as though he is God Himself, able to grant her forgiveness for Him. She reminds herself of her faith, praying first thing in the morning and just before bed, hand always wrapped around that cross pendant as she toys with it on the chain, begging its holiness to seep into her. 

But the cycle begins again when she gets to church next Sunday, sitting in her pew in the front row as usual while Father Duncan is elsewhere in the church, preparing for service. 

As she hears people begin to trickle in, Tashi looks behind her, and there you are. 

She looks up to the crucifix behind the altar, and has half a mind to kneel and start praying. 

But you take your seat beside her, as usual, as Tashi works on composing herself. 

“Hi, Tashi.” You smile as Tashi looks up at you, and her heart squeezes. 

“Hi.” she croaks. 

“Would you wanna hang out sometime this week? I have a few tickets to see that new movie that just came out.” 

Tashi can’t think straight. You want to hang out with her? Is she dreaming? No, not a dream, a nightmare. Maybe if she hits her head against the pew she’ll remember that this is all fake and not real and wake up from this nightmare, and all will be okay. She won’t have to hide from her father or the Father. 

“Tashi?” You snap her out of her thoughts, and she’s never been so embarrassed. She can hear her blood rushing in her ears, her hands clammy and body hot. 

“Uh, yeah—I, um. I might not be able to go to the movie, but we can, um, we can definitely hang out.” 

You nod as service starts, and whisper to her. 

“We can talk after service.” 

She nods in return, swallowing hard as you both stand for the procession. 

The service starts, and it feels like torture. Every time you kneel for prayer, she glances over at you, her mind wandering, imagining, going places it shouldn’t. When communion starts, Tashi almost doesn’t go up. She feels too guilty, like her father will be able see through her, into her secrets and the deepest, darkest parts of her mind.

Service finally finishes and Tashi looks over at you again. 

“Are you free tomorrow?” she manages to get out. 

“Yeah.” You beam. 

“How about a walk and a picnic?” 

“Sounds perfect. Ten? The old trails behind the church?”

“Eleven?”

“Eleven it is. See you there, Tashi.” 

“See you.” She smiles back, waving as her father calls her over. 

You wave back, and she feels both like she’s flying, weightless and giddy, and like she’s being dragged down to the depths of hell. Like if even indulging in this ‘friendly’ outing will make her the biggest sinner her father has ever met. 

She watches you leave again, just like every week before, but this time with a small smile on her face. When she leaves with her own family, she immediately starts planning the picnic, baking and cooking and packing. Tashi doesn’t know why, but she feels the need to make everything perfect. Just for you. Tomorrow is going to be a big day. 

She even thinks about telling you her sins. 

That night, she sleeps a little easier. Still restless, but she’s hopeful there’s a chance you’ll be able to knock some sense into her. 

Until she starts having nightmares of you again. You, kissing her, with those soft, soft lips, the ones she’s stared at countless times. You, with your hands on her, that delicate touch you save for only the most fragile things used on her, like she’s something beautiful that could shatter. Her, on her knees in front of you, worshiping you like you’re taking His place. Like you’re actually her God. Like you’re actually her Jesus. Or the roles reversed, with you on your knees in front of her, staring up at her like she’s your God. 

And sleep becomes restless once more. 

When she wakes up, curled in on herself once more, Tashi’s cheeks are crusty with dried up tears. She doesn’t know when she started crying during the nightmares, but she quickly becomes conscious of the fact she broke one of the Ten Commandments in her nightmares, and they quickly start back up again as she slides off her bed and kneels against the side of it in prayer. 

Today she’ll tell you. She’ll tell you, and you’ll tell her how wrong it is. Shame her into normality. Shame her into conforming. 

Tashi gets ready for the day, mentally too. She’ll need to be strong to have the conversation. 

She meets you by the old trails behind the church, picnic basket in hand. 

“Hi, Tashi!” Your voice is excited, like you’ve been waiting all night for this, and she can’t help but smile in return. 

“Hi.” 

“Morning was good?” 

She can’t exactly tell you about her nightmares, about the fact she went against the rules so clearly set in place for a good Christian, so she lies. “Yeah. great.” 

The walk to the clearing is peaceful. You and Tashi speak about your lives, your plans, what you’re here for, your faith. She almost brings up what she wants to tell you on the way there, but decides against it. It’ll be better if you’re both sitting down. 

When you reach the clearing, you help Tashi set up the picnic, salivating at the food she prepared. 

“These look incredible, Tashi…” 

“Yeah?” Her heart swells, she’s always loved compliments from you. 

“Yeah.” 

You two sit, eating and laughing, falling into easy conversation. If there’s silence, it’s comfortable, as you look around the clearing at the surrounding flora and fauna, Tashi just staring at your face, trying to figure out when to ruin what you two have got going on. 

She decides to do it when you’re both about to pack up, standing up, picnic basket in her hands.  

“Hey, uh—”

“Yeah, Tashi?” 

Tashi’s throat is dry. Her voice is small. Shaky. Unsure. Her eyes gloss over, not quite tearing up yet, but she knows she’s nearing that point. 

You notice immediately. Of course you do. You’re different. You’ve always been so good at reading people. 

“Tashi, oh my god—are you okay?” 

“I, um. Oh, yeah—yeah, of course. I, just—I have to confess something to you.” 

“What is it, Tashi? You can tell me anything.”

Anything but this. At least in Tashi’s head. 

“I—um—oh, god. How, how am I supposed to say this? God, I’m going to Hell—” Tashi’s near hyperventilating by this point, the tears finally welling up. 

“Hey—hey, hey, hey, Tashi, look at me.” you speak softly, grabbing her shoulders gently, as her head shoots up to meet yours. “Breathe with me. In… out… in… out…”

She follows your instructions, breathing with you. Slightly calming down as she stares into your eyes, looking at the way they soften around the edges as you look at her, the way your lips curve into that small smile as her breathing returns to somewhat normal. 

“What’s up?” 

“I—I’m such a bad person. I have these thoughts. These awful, awfully depraved, sinful thoughts. I have these nightmares where God isn’t my God anymore. But someone else. I—I’m going to go to Hell.” Tashi repeats the last part quietly, like she’s trying to prepare herself for it.

She pauses. Takes a deep breath, composing herself as the tears roll down her cheeks. 

“I have, I have these thoughts about, about—”

You’re silent, giving her the chance to speak. To get it off her chest. 

To make it real, to acknowledge it, to stop pushing it down, by speaking it into the world. 

She doesn’t know how she manages to get the next words out, but she spits them in your face like she thinks they’re venom. She wants them to be. 

“I have them about you.” She tacks your name on at the end, trying to make it fatal, for both of you. 

She waits for you to yell at her. For your face to twist into disgust and tell her she’s plagued by Satan, agree that she’s going to Hell. To push her away, and run back to the church to wash your hands with the holiest water, just to get any trace of her off you. 

But none of that happens. 

Your face softens, eyes welling with your own tears, as you pull her into the softest, yet tightest hug ever, like she’s a delicate flower you’re afraid will wilt if you’re too rough with her. 

Tashi doesn’t know what to do. She’s conflicted. She thought you would hate her, why are you being so kind to her? This isn’t right. 

She drops the basket, letting the leftovers, the laughter, the happiness, the joy between you two spill onto the ground, and pushes you away, her face twisted into something nasty. 

“Why don’t you hate me? This is wrong!” 

Your face twists into one of sadness, no, not sadness. Pity? And she hates it. She hates the way it sends a pang through her heart. She hates that you pity her. 

“Tashi, it’s not wrong. Just because you like a girl doesn’t make you a bad person.” 

“No, it does! This is wrong, it’s a sin! And you’re just as bad as me for accepting me.” she spits out. 

“You know what, Tashi, maybe I am. Maybe I’m even worse because I’m just like you and I accept you. Because I like girls too.” 

She freezes at that, the tears flowing down her cheeks. 

“You—you do?” 

“Yeah, Tashi. I do.” 

It suddenly makes sense, and she stares at the ground to process it all. 

Why you’re different from the others. 

Why she’s been drawn to you from the beginning. 

You’re both the same. 

But you’re not. Because Tashi isn’t like you. Not really. 

She grabs the cross around her neck, and looks back up at you. 

“I’m not actually this way. I’m normal. You’re just corrupting me. You’re here from Satan to corrupt me, to bring me to Hell with you. And it won’t work. It won’t. I won’t let it.” 

She can see your face crack, can see you try to hold back tears. 

It shatters her heart. 

So she delivers one final blow. 

“This was a mistake. I’m not going to Hell with you.”

Tears start flowing as you watch her walk away, walk along that trail you took together. You kick the picnic basket, sending it flying somewhere, and sink to the ground, sobbing into your hands. 

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. 

Tashi gets back to the church, sobbing, and locks herself in the confessional to grieve you, and confess to God. Tashi knows it’s nothing unless she talks to her father, but she hopes this is enough anyway. She can never tell Father Duncan what she feels. Never. 

If it’s meant to be, then it will be. 

And Tashi Duncan doesn’t think it is, so it won’t. She’d rather let the guilt eat her from the inside out. For the rest of her life. 

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