#I always took that as a story about God's relationship with Christians

[vampirepuppygirl]

You know, I grew up catholic and never experienced catholic guilt, and it still kind of confuses me

When I went to mass, the readings and the gospel were always just life lessons or stories to make you think, and what it wanted you to think about was usually humility and piety and loyalty and faith and stuff like that

Faith formation was mostly about learning the history of the church and important stories that you should remember, plus prayer memorization

I don't ever actually remember a time where they were specifically like "you must feel guilty about this" or "everyone by default deserves to go to hell and you must constantly prostrate before god to be deemed worthy"

It was "everyone sins and everyone drifts away from god and that's okay because he will never abandon you"

It was "Jesus died for your sins. To liberate you from them so you're no longer beholden to the old way, so you're no longer beholden to original sin, so you can have a clean slate without ceaseless penance"

The sin forgiveness cycle that Catholics kind of get pulled into was always described to me as a liberating cycle. It gives you the freedom to sin and the freedom to make mistakes as you bumble through the blind chaos of life without worrying about perfection or damnation

Even when I went to confession it wasn't just a blanket "don't do it again" it was "think about why that is a sin and let that experience teach you something."

If I know anything about catholics it's that they love rules and they love the pursuit of knowledge, I once had a very long conversation with a priest about why a certain rule was a rule and why a certain sin was a sin and it was a lot more complicated than just "god said so," even if I can't remember the specifics anymore

I don't know, maybe it was my specific diocese or I've just been around a lot of liberal priests or something, but I even had someone tell me basically word for word "As long as you follow the ten commandments and use the seven virtues as a framework to guide you, you're set. Use confession to scrub away the sins you can't avoid and that's it. Nobody is without sin so just do your best and that's all anyone can ask of you."

Primarily, what growing up catholic taught me was just the importance of love

Love your family, love your neighbor, love a stranger, love the Earth, love nature, and fundamentally love yourself. And forgive yourself. And be patient with yourself. Because I was taught that everyone sins and that's okay.

And that's okay.

I was taught that seeking absolution and forgiveness is meant to steer you in the right direction, yes for the ultimate goal of heaven, which was defined to me as Oneness with God. And hell was defined to me not as a multi-tiered demon filled demiplane of fire and brimstone and ice, but simply the state of separation from god.

But it wasn't just about salvation it was also about making the Earth we live in now a better place and they are rules specifically to facilitate good communication and good relationships with other people and yourself, and obviously God (but whatever.) It was always basically let God absolve you of your guilt but don't force yourself to feel guilty if you make a mistake.

I don't really consider myself catholic anymore, mostly because of other people, catholics and protestants who use their religion as a tool to spread hateful rhetoric and become their own personal left hand of God, instead of using their religion to spread love and patience and understanding and forgiveness and tolerance and all of the things that they actually fucking preach. Why y'all throwing stones huh? Y'all ain't without sin. Literally nobody is. That's the point.

But I like what I was taught. I use what I was taught a lot. Technically even if I don't consider myself catholic I still am. I have been confirmed, I could waltz right into a catholic church confess my sins and my doubts and have a long conversation with a priest and boom blank slate once more. There would be penance hoops I would have to jump through but that's literally what happens with every confession, so still

But that's always what confused me about Catholic guilt like

What were you taught?

[barefoot-joker]

Destined for Heaven, Stolen by the Devil~ Yandere!Lucifer X Reader

Hey, guys and welcome to another Lucifer story. I'm sorry I write for him a lot. I just find to him be a very relatable character and I love him so much! Anyway, this fic deals with heavy Christianity themes, so I did my best to research. If something is wrong, please tell me and I'll do my best to fix it. I was very inspired by the song 'The Plagues' from "The Prince of Egypt". As always, I hope you enjoy and have a great day/night!

Words: 2899

Warnings: Heavy Christianity Themes/Beliefs, Swearing, Christianity Mocking, Slight Possessive Tendencies, Reader's Aunt likes crystals, Reader Dies, Kidnapping?

I sighed as my mother pulled a light blue cardigan over my shoulders. She dusted off my dress and fixed my hair so that I looked presentable. Today was Sunday so that meant we had to go to church. I wasn’t too fond of going and I would have rather been playing in the backyard as a twelve year old does. However, my mom made it her duty to take me and make me a good Christian girl. “Why do we have to go, mom? It’s soooo boring!”

I stuck out my tongue at her. She gently pushed it back in. “You know I want our family to have a good relationship with the Lord. It’s our Christian duty. Besides, going to church is in your blood. After all-”

“Yeah, yeah. God told you that I was destined to be a wife for Adam. How can you believe that? It came to you in a dream.”

“Y/n M/n L/n! You do not question God’s ways! You know better! Now come on, we don’t want to be late.”

Dragging me by the hand, she ushered me into the family Cadillac and sped off. I sighed heavily. There were so many things I’d rather be doing than go to church. I could be with my friends, heck I could be at my cool Aunt’s house. “Hey, mom?”

“Yes, dear?”

“When are we going to visit Aunt Hailey? When she called you said we’d be seeing her soon.”

“I only said that to get her off my back. You know how I feel about her.”

I grunted and crossed my arms. Aunt Hailey was seen as the black sheep in the family all because she was wealthy. A lot of our relatives (my mother included) thought she sold her soul to the Devil in order to be immensely rich and refused to interact with her. I, however, thought she was so cool. When she used to come over she’d regale to me hundreds of stories about her travels around the world. She even showed me her cool crystal collection when we went over to her house a few times. “Now don’t be like that. It’s not ladylike.”

I grunted again and slid down in the tan leather seat. A few minutes later the car was parked in the church parking lot and I was being dragged inside. Sometimes I wish I had siblings so I wasn’t the only one to feel mom’s wrath. She seated us near the front and handed me the heavy white Bible from the pew. I robotically turned to the page with the Lord’s prayer and stood when Pastor Bob entered. We began reciting the Lord’s prayer and sang a hymn before we sat. I didn’t pay much attention as our Priest told us his sermon for the day but I didn’t dare to look around the room. I had to look the part after all. Fidgety, I played with my ring finger. Glancing down, I took in the birthmark that oddly looked like an apple. I remember it showing up after I stayed at Aunt Hailey’s house one day. I never told my mother about it though. I was often reminded of the tale of Eve and the apple and I don’t know what she would do if ever saw the fruit insignia. After the sermon and another hymn, it was time for communion. We all stood in line and when it was my turn I took the small Ritz cracker and ate it. I coughed lightly and then took a sip from the golden chalice. My mom and I returned to our seats and when everyone was done, we recited the Lord’s prayer one final time. Thank goodness it was over. 

As we walked out, I was forced to shake hands with our elderly Pastor. “How is my favorite little disciple doing today?”

I cringed at that. Ever since my mother told the church of her insane dream I was treated like some goddess. “Good.”

“That’s great to hear. I look forward to our weekly blessing.”

“Of course, Pastor Bob,” my mom butted in, “we wouldn’t miss it.”

He smiled and bid us both ado. We walked back to the car and drove home. As we passed by houses in our neighborhood, I looked longingly at the kids playing. Besides church, Sunday was dedicated to my education of becoming a housewife so when I did die and go to Heaven I was prepared. Parking the car, we went inside. I slipped off my Mary Janes and put them by the door. The rest of the day was spent cleaning, doing embroidery work and cooking. Just as I was getting ready for bed, the phone rang. I went into the kitchen and picked up the landline. “Hello?”

“Is my dear Y/n there?”

“This is her.”

“It’s your Aunt Hailey.”

“Auntie! Hi! How are you?”

She chuckled. “I am good, my darling. And you? Surviving another day in that stuffy house?”

I giggled at her commentary. “I’ve been okay. What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering when you can come over. I was talking with a friend the other day and he would like to meet you properly. I believe he saw you at my house when you were five.”

“I’d love to come over! Let me ask mom real quick.”

I walked into the living room and pressed the phone to my chest. “Hey, mom. Aunt Hailey’s on the phone. She wants to know when I can come over.”

She looked up from her book and glared at the phone. “You know my answer.”

“Come on, mom! It’ll just be for a day!”

“I don’t know.”

“Please! I promise when I get back I’ll focus on my wifely duties! Please!”

I gave her puppy dog eyes and slightly whimpered. She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Alright. You can go tomorrow, but I expect you to stay true to your promise. You know how God would feel if you went back on your word.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!”

I lifted the phone up to my ear and quickly ran into the kitchen. “She said I can come tomorrow.”

“Wonderful! I’ll see you then, my dear.”

“Bye, Auntie!”

“Goodbye for now, darling.”

I ended the call and put the phone back on the receiver. I returned to the living room where mom and I did our nightly prayer. When we finished, she gave my forehead a kiss and sent me to bed. 

The next morning I dressed in a plaid dress shirt, brown capri pants and black oxfords. I bounced in the passenger seat giddily as my mother parked the car in my Aunt’s gravel driveway. “Now remember to behave. I don’t need any calls about your disobedience.”

“I’ll be good, I will.”

“That’s my girl. And you have your cross necklace?”

“Yes, mom. Can I go now?”

She kissed my forehead and I got out of the car. “Be safe! Call me if something happens and I’ll be back around dinner to pick you up!”

“Okay mom, bye!”

I waved and she drove off. I turned towards my relative’s mansion and walked up the stone steps. I grabbed the handle from the golden lion’s head and gave three loud knocks on the large oak door. The door opened to reveal Timothy, my Hailey’s middle aged butler. “Ah Miss Y/n, we were expecting you. Please come in.”

He stood to the side and allowed me inside. Closing the door, he led me across the marble floor to one of the drawing rooms near the back. I could hear muffled voices talking as we entered, Timothy clearing his throat. “Your niece is here, madam.”

“Thank you, Timothy. That will be all.”

He bowed and exited the room. My Auntie smiled and gestured for me to come over. I ran to her and gave her a big hug. Her navy silk and lace dress clung to me. “It’s so good to see you, darling! I’ve missed you so!”

“I’ve missed you too!”

I pulled away and she motioned to the gold and floral print armchair next to her. I sat and looked at her guest on the chaise lounge. He seemed quite the esteemed gentleman. He had slicked back blonde hair, pale skin and red eyes. I found them quite odd but didn’t judge. Mother said it was bad to judge based upon appearances. He wore a white suit with a red dress shirt, a black tie with black flower detailing, black leather gloves and shiny black dress shoes. He was on the shorter side as well. “Y/n, I’d like you to meet my friend Luci. He’s the one to thank for my wealth.”

The man stood and bowed to me. He took my hand and kissed my apple birthmark. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, my little apple. Your Aunt has told me so much about you.”

“It’s good to meet you too, sir.”

“So polite. Your mother is raising you right.”

“Except for the amount of gospel she puts in my poor baby’s head. I swear all because of her fucking dream, she’s gone total Bible thumper.”

Luci titled his head to the side. “Oh you’ll have to tell me over tea. Speaking of which, I think Timothy has finished setting up the garden for us.”

“Splendid!”

We all stood and the blonde offered me his arm. I gladly took it and we walked outside to Hailey’s marble floored porch. A metal table sat in the middle overlooking her large flower garden, a lacy white tablecloth set on top. Luci pulled out my chair and after I sat, pushed it in. He sat next to me and began pouring tea for all of us. Today Timothy had picked out the clear glass kettle so we could see the yellow liquid inside and the pastel teacups. I thanked Auntie’s friend when he poured into my cup and marveled at the small pink flower floating. “I see we’re having chrysanthemum tea. You know it’s your Auntie’s favorite.”

I giggled and picked up my cup. Blowing a little, I took a sip and smiled at the sweet taste. “So you were talking about Y/n’s mother?”

“Ah yes. She’s always been a Christian woman, believing in the power above. Then one night she had a dream, a vision she calls it, that Y/n is to be the third wife of the first man Adam. Ever since then she’s been obsessively devoted and is dragging my poor niece with her.”

“I see.”

Luci seemed to become stiff at the mention of Heaven and God. Perhaps it was a touchy subject?

“So God came to her and said this, hm?”

“Sure as shit supposedly.”

The three of us sipped our tea in silence. “So has school been going, my dear?”

“Good, Auntie. We learned how to do cursive in English the other day so now I can write my name all fancy!”

“That’s great, darling. Anything else?”

“I’ve been feeling kind of left out lately.”

Both adults turned to me in curiosity. “How so?”

“Well none of the other kids my age are really learning wifely duties, at least not as much as me. When I want to go outside and play mom forces me to do my skills.”

“Wifely duties? Pray do tell,” Luci cocked an eyebrow.

“I learned how to clean the house from top to bottom, cook all three meals, sew, embroider, and do laundry. Basically anything my mom deems necessary to please this angelic husband of mine.”

“I can assure you it will come in handy. Especially with how much of pigish brute he is.”

“How do you know?”

“I just got that impression when I’ve read his passages in the Bible, sweetie.”

“Oh.”

“If you had a real man I can be sure you wouldn’t need those skills, darling,” Auntie piped up, sipping her tea.

“A real man? Like who?”

“Like Luci for example!”

I turned to the blonde and he smiled. His eyes glinted with what looked like adoration. He gently grabbed my hand and held it, his hands quite warm through his gloves. He brought it to his lips and kissed the back of my hand. “It’s true. If you were my wife you wouldn’t want for nothing. Every day would be spent in marital bliss.”

“Sounds gross!”

He chuckled and kissed my hand again. “When you’re older you’ll come to love it.”

‘If you say so.”

“I know so.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent listening to Luci’s tales from his travels while drinking our tea. They were quite intriguing and full of adventure. The people he met, the places he went were all so fascinating. It soon became dinner time and true to her word my mom sat in the driveway. Luci walked me to the door and gave a little bow. “It was a pleasure to chat with you, Y/n. I have a feeling we will see each other more in the future.”

“I hope so. You’re so cool, Luci!”

He smirked and patted my head. “Farewell, little lady.”

“Goodbye, Luci!”

I gave him a quick hug before running to the car.

Sure enough as I grew up I ran into the short blonde more often than not. From trips to the grocery store to when I was allowed at Aunt Hailey’s house, we would bump into each other. We’d always exchange a few words and always those red eyes sparkled bright around me. 

That was eleven years ago. Now I lay in a hospital bed, feeling like I was on the brink of death. A few years after meeting Luci I had gotten terribly ill. I was feverish, pale and felt nauseous. My mother was worried and took me to the clinic. I was just diagnosed with the flu. I took my medicine and stayed in bed as best as possible but the final straw was when I fainted in the backyard while gardening. Since then, I had been in and out of hospital with different doctors viewing me like prize cattle. I was poked, prodded and dug at only to be told no one had a clue as to why I was sick. It was like it had just fallen upon me. My mother became even more obsessive in her Christian ways. I was blessed every weekend and prayed upon every day to try and heal my mysterious illness. I was forced to drink holy water at every opportunity and had to wear my cross necklace with two rosaries. 

Currently, I was coughing so hard I felt like I dislocated my lungs. My mother sat next to me holding my hand, a rosary wrapping around us. As I continued to cough she pushed some hair out of my face. “You’re going to be alright, honey. Just stay strong.”

After my coughing fit, I laid back and tried to catch my breath. “I feel like I’m dying.”

Her hand tightened around mine and I could feel her body shake with sobs. “Maybe this is God’s way of letting us know Adam needs you. As much as I’d hate to see my baby go, you’d finally fulfill your purpose.”

“Mom, please. Not now.”

“I’m sorry.”

A knock at the door made us both look over. There in the entryway stood Luci, his white hat with the dark red band hanging tightly in his hands. “Come in.”

He stepped forward and gave a small smile. “Hey, how are you feeling?”

“Like shit.”

“Y/n! Language!”

“Sorry.”

He chuckled and came to my side, putting a hand on my shoulder. “May I have a moment alone, please?”

My mom looked at me and I gave a curt nod. She sighed and stood. “I’ll go get something to eat. I’ll be back later, honey.”

She gave my forehead a kiss and walked out, shutting the door behind her. Luci took her place in the chair next to my bed. “What can I do for you, handsome?”

“I wanted to come see you. Hailey told me how you were faring and I knew I needed to come immediately.”

“I appreciate that. Especially since I feel like this may be the last time you see me.”

“Nonsense. We will always find each other, even in death.”

He brought his hand up and caressed my cheek. I smiled and then began coughing. I turned away and hacked into my arm, only turning back when I was done. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

His hand wrapped around mine and squoze tightly. “You know, I could end your suffering right now.”

“Yeah right.”

“I’m not lying to you, my dear. One small kiss and you’d go peacefully.”

“Luci-”

“And then we can be together forever. Adam, not even Heaven will keep you from me.”

“What are you talking about?” “Just kiss me.”

What could go wrong? I was already suffering so much.

“...Alright.”

He leaned forward and connected our lips. He tasted sweet like caramel apples and I just melted. My soul felt like it was being sucked out of my body and when he pulled away I couldn’t breathe. “You’re mine, little apple. Forever and always.”

He caressed my hand and my eyes closed.

The beeping of the heart monitor slowed and then faded to silence all together.

[lovetaroandtaemin]

Kinktober 2024

Day 26: Corruption

Mark Lee x Reader Word Count: 2,905 THIS FIC IS NSFW, MINORS DNI!!! Warnings: Religious themes, church boy!Mark x pastor's daughter!reader, kind of soft dom!reader, mentions of masturbation, loss of virginity, mentions of alcohol (reader and Mark are SOBER when they have sex!), semi-public sex (they're technically in public but no one is around to see), sex in the bed of a pickup truck. If you think I missed a warning, let me know! A/N: If you want to be tagged for the last few Kinktober fics, feel free to send an ask, send a dm, or leave a comment! I'm honestly starting to get a little bit bummed that Kinktober is almost over. This has been such a fun ride, and it always makes me so happy to see y'all interact with my stories. I also wanted to say that certain plot elements as well as Reader's personality/family life are heavily inspired by the song "Baptist Parking Lot" by Mary Heather Hickman. If you're a country music fan, I highly recommend checking it out!

Taglist: @unlikelysublimekryptonite

Fic is under the cut.

When Mark Lee approached you and asked you if you wanted to go on a date with him, you knew that your parents were behind it. They had been a lot pushier than usual when it came to your relationships lately, considering you were in your mid-twenties and not even dating. Plus, your mother and father were good friends with Mr. and Mrs. Lee, and had been since you were a kid, so in their mind Mark was the best possible choice when it came to men that they could set you up with.

You had never been close with Mark, but your parents and his were determined to change that. Mark was the kind of good Christian man that they felt was perfect for the daughter of a minister. He was kind, he was intelligent, and he loved God. Any time the church held an event he was one of the first to volunteer to help. He knew the Bible better than anyone you knew with the exception of your father. He was also an assistant youth pastor that was passionate about teaching people about the love of God. He even volunteered at an animal shelter, for fuck’s sake.

You, on the other hand, were far less innocent than you let your parents believe. You drank, smoked, went to the club, and hooked up with people you barely knew. Your behavior was far from what was expected of you, but that was probably why you acted the way you did. Growing up as sheltered as you did was suffocating, and now that you were an adult you wanted to do everything that your parents would have killed you for when you were younger. That didn’t mean they had to know, though. What would the congregation say if they knew the pastor’s own daughter acted like the exact opposite of what God expected from women?

You were snapped out of your thoughts by Mark’s voice saying, “Hello? Earth to (Y/N)?”

“Sorry, what was that?”

“Do you want to go get dinner with me this Saturday after I get done at the shelter?”

“That sounds great, Mark. What time do you get done?”

“I get done around 5, and I’ll need time to get ready. How does 6:15 sound?”

“Perfect. I’ll see you then.”

“See you then, (Y/N).”

When you said yes to a date, Mark was ecstatic. Sure, he had been encouraged to ask you out by your parents, but he had liked you for a long time. You were intelligent, you were funny, and you always spoke your mind. It was sinful, and he knew it, but he honestly thought that you were sexy too. The thoughts never lingered, more passing interest when you wore clothes that showed off your body, but they were there, nonetheless.

Saturday came, and you almost backed out of your date with Mark. The main reason you didn’t was the fact that you knew you’d never hear the end of it if you did. Truthfully, though, you would have preferred going to the club with your friends or getting drunk in the back of your current hookup’s truck. You had an image to maintain, however, so you went.

Contrary to what you were expecting, you had a lot of fun with Mark. He took you to a sort-of fancy restaurant out of town, and you talked about your lives and interests while you ate. You found that the two of you had more in common than you initially thought, like a love for older music and weird movies that no one else has ever heard of. He even made you swear not to tell anyone that he wanted to try going out to a club. In a lapse of judgement, you said, “I could take you out to my favorite one, if you want.”

The moment the words left your mouth, you regretted them. The regret turned to excitement, however, when Mark said “Ok. Do you wanna do that after we’re done here?”

“Are you sure? I mean, I wouldn’t want to keep you.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I think it’d be fun to try something new.”

His innocent excitement killed you. When he asked you if you thought that they would have Coca-Cola at the bar, you wondered if he could get any cuter. As the two of you finished your meal, you asked again if he was sure about going to the club. He said yes, and you told him you would give him directions when you got in the car.

When Mark walked you to his car, he held your hand. It was a small gesture, but you found yourself getting flustered. He opened the car door for you, and your heart did a somersault. It almost made you wonder why you bothered with hooking up with random guys when somebody that you knew could be good to you was there the entire time.

The drive to the club was silent with the exception of you giving Mark directions. You both wanted to start a conversation, but for some reason you couldn’t find where you wanted to start. It was frustrating to be at a loss for words, but you couldn’t complain. Especially when Mark looked as good as he did in the driver’s seat. You almost felt wrong saying it about someone so sweet, but he looked hot when he focused on driving. As you pulled up to the club, you wondered if you would ever get a chance to show him how sexy you were starting to think he was. You knew that he was a good Christian, so you probably wouldn’t get a chance any time soon, but you wondered if you could move that timeline up a bit.

Your time at the club was uneventful. Mark refused to drink alcohol, was shy about dancing with you, and cast judgmental looks at everyone that left with a different person than they’d arrived with. You tried to gently encourage him to lighten up and let loose a little bit, but in the end he just asked to go back home.

He drove you back to your apartment, and you thanked him for the date. He insisted on walking you to your door, but you wouldn’t have turned him down anyway. When the two of you got to your door, he shyly asked if he could kiss you. You agreed, and he hesitantly brought his lips to yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck and gently tangled your hands in his hair, and he loosened up ever so slightly. At least, it seemed like he did from the small moan that left his mouth.

He abruptly pulled away and apologized, and you gave him a reassuring smile and told him that it was ok. He left quickly and hoped that you didn’t notice the grin on his face or the boner beginning to form in his pants. Of course, you did, and you wondered if your goal of getting Mark to loosen up was closer than you thought.

The next day, your parents asked you how the date with Mark went. You told them that it went well, and to your surprise, you weren’t lying. You had fun with Mark, and you wanted to see him again. Sure, part of the reason you wanted to see him again was to see if you could teach him how to actually have fun, but your parents didn’t need to know that. They were thrilled that you seemed interested in who they believed was the right kind of man for you.

Over the next few weeks, you went out for dinner with Mark every weekend. Not much changed, but you did flirt with him much more openly than you initially wanted to as you started to develop genuine feelings for him. He became a blushy mess every time you told him how pretty his eyes were, or how well the clothes he was wearing fit him.

Mark refused to admit it, but he was finding it increasingly difficult to keep a level head when you flirted with him or kissed him. He didn’t want to sin, but he did occasionally find himself wanting to do more than kiss you or compliment the dresses you wore for your dates that drove him insane. You were usually dressed a very specific way when he saw you at church, but the way you dressed when you were out of your parents’ view was decidedly different. Not that he was complaining, of course. He thought that you looked sexy. Little did he know, that was exactly what you were going for.

The first time your attempt to get Mark to let loose was successful was after a few months of dating. The two of you were at his apartment after an afternoon spent volunteering, and he kissed you. You were determined to not push him today, and you kept to that. Mark, however, had other plans. The way he kissed you felt different than usual. Typically, his kisses were soft, almost like he was afraid of going too far. This time, those concerns seemed to go out the window as he held you close.

To say that you were desperate was an understatement. You hadn’t had sex with anyone else since you started dating Mark, and you were starting to get frustrated. You had tried getting off by yourself, but it just wasn’t the same as fucking another person. It was getting more and more difficult to not think about Mark on top of you as you kissed him.

Mark was just as desperate as you were, if not more. He had never had sex before. Partially because of the stupid purity promise he made in church as a teenager, and partially because he had never met anyone that he was comfortable being so intimate with. That was, until you came along. It felt like you were ruining him, in a way. Before you started dating, he would have never considered having someone sit on his lap while making out. Now, that was exactly what the two of you were doing.

Time passed, and you had to leave. It was important for you to get enough sleep in order to not look like a complete wreck at church on Sunday. As you left, though, Mark asked you if you would be willing to try something new next time. You asked him what it was, and he said, “I want you to take my virginity.” You were shocked, but you agreed. The two of you decided to discuss exactly when at a later date, and you went back to your apartment.

Church went by the next morning without any major news or events, except for one thing. Mark was uncharacteristically awkward and shy around you. Since you had started dating, he had made a point to sit next to you, sometimes holding your hand during your father’s sermons. Today, however, he sat on the opposite side of the sanctuary from you, not even looking you in the eye when you greeted him upon arriving. You decided to ask him about his behavior after service.

When you finally found Mark, you asked him if he wanted to come back to your apartment. He reluctantly agreed, and you left. He followed in his truck, and when he entered your apartment, you asked him why he was so distant at church.

He sighed before answering, “I’m sorry about what I asked of you last night. It was too far, and I understand if you want to break things off or slow things down.”

“Baby, it’s ok. Any reaction that you saw last night was surprise. As long as it’s something you really want, I don’t mind at all. As long as you don’t mind the fact that I’m not a virgin.”

“I don’t mind at all. I love you. Thank you for being so patient with me.”

“I love you, too.”

The two of you spent the afternoon discussing when you would take Mark’s virginity. Your previous sexual encounters had never been planned in advance, but you wanted Mark to feel more at ease about his first time. In the end, the two of you decided to drive to an abandoned parking lot a few towns over, so no one would know what the two of you were skipping Bible study on Wednesday to do. You even came up with a lie about being invited by a friend to visit another church that you could tell your parents to explain your absence.

The idea of skipping church to lose his virginity should have disgusted Mark, but in actuality, it thrilled him. Maybe you had been a worse influence than he thought. He didn’t really care about that, though. All he knew was that he loved and trusted you, and he wanted to show you just how much he loved and trusted you.

When the day finally came, the two of you were filled with excitement. You went about most of your day as usual, but after you got done work, you drove to the abandoned parking lot that you’d told Mark about. He did the same, and the two of you settled into the bed of his truck. Bless him, he’d even covered it with blankets and pillows to make you more comfortable.

When Mark kissed you, you couldn’t help but tangle your hands in his hair. He groaned at the sensation, and it made you want him. To be fair, you always wanted him, but in the moment, he was all you could think about. If the way he kissed you was any indication, he needed you just as badly.

After a few minutes, you pulled away and started kissing Mark’s neck. He moaned again, and you only got more desperate for him. It wasn’t long before you couldn’t take it anymore, so you lifted your head and asked Mark if he still wanted to go further. He seemed nervous, but his excitement as he said yes made you feel better about the situation. He shyly explained that he didn’t really know what he was doing, and you promised to help him the entire time.

You started by unbuttoning his jeans and pulling his boxers down. Then you lifted your dress and removed your own underwear. After that, you settled into a comfortable position and instructed him to climb on top of you. He did exactly as he was told, and you helped him guide his cock into your pussy for the first time.

The moan that fell from Mark’s lips as he felt you for the first time was heavenly. You desperately wanted to hear more, but you still told him to wait before he moved so both of you could adjust. Again, he did exactly as you asked. It was honestly kind of adorable how eager he was to please you.

Once you were ready, you gently instructed Mark to move. He started to slowly thrust in and out trying to avoid overwhelming himself right away. He loved you, and he wanted to make this last. You couldn’t help but want the same, slightly overwhelmed already by the amount of love and care he was showing you. It may have been frustrating to wait so long to have sex with Mark, but the wait was worth it. This was infinitely better than the cheap hookups you’d had before.

After a few minutes, Mark started to thrust slightly faster. When he saw the way your tits bounced, it was difficult for him to control himself. Still, he kept a steady pace as he fucked into you. Sex with you was the most pleasure that he’d ever felt. Sure, he had jerked off a handful of times, though he was embarrassed to admit to that, but his hand could never compare to you.

It didn’t take long for Mark to feel an orgasm approaching, though he tried as hard as he could to last. He slowed down slightly once he felt it, but that did the opposite of what he wanted. Rather than putting off his orgasm, it only brought him closer to the brink. He hurriedly warned you that he was close and asked you what to do now. You said, “Cum inside me, baby. It’s ok.”

As soon as the words left your mouth, Mark stilled inside you, moaning your name as he rode out his orgasm. Feeling Mark’s release triggered your own, and before you knew it you were clenching around his cock as you cried out in pleasure. He was still after you both came down from your highs, reveling in the closeness of the moment. The position had gotten uncomfortable, however, so you gently asked him to move.

Mark did as he was told, finding a sort-of clean towel in the back of his truck to wipe you and himself off with. You put your clothes back on and helped him to do the same. Then the two of you just held each other, saying nothing but knowing that this wouldn’t be the last time the two of you had sex in his truck when you were supposed to be in church. As he held you close, you couldn’t help but feel proud of the fact that you had helped Mark Lee loosen up and learn to have some fun.

Thank you for reading! If you'd like to see what else I've written so far and the rest of what's planned, you can find my Kinktober masterlist here. If you'd like to read one of my non-Kinktober works, you can find my general masterlist here. If you'd like to see what I'm going to be working on once Kinktober is over, you can find my upcoming works here. If none of that interests you, or there's something specific you'd like to see, send a request via asks or dms!

Thank you again for reading, happy spooky season!

[goldennymphh]

“I love you.” “Do you?”

Mother Miranda x F! Reader

Both characters are over 18.

I may make a second part to this.

Words : 1k

depictions of mental and physical abuse. These two are NOT good for each other. I am not romanticizing this relationship. Please understand that.

Grief of a child loss will be depicted.

If you go through something similar with anything in the story. Please do not wait and seek help. It’s better to speak up, than to not.

National Domestic Violence Hotline :

800 - 799 -7233

They used to love each other, before all of it happened. Before the disease slowly crept into the blonde woman’s heart. Now every day was like eggshells. It was even worse than when they had to hide their relationship. You had been with her since the beginning, since before even Eva. You were that child’s godmother, and the perfect secret lover of Miranda.

Then Eva’s death came with the plague. You had not been infected but Miranda had, not with the sickness but with another disease. Her heart growing cold and thinking of some of the worst things. You tried to calm her from her brash ways of grief. You tried to hold her and whisper sweet words but she’d fight against you most times. Thrashing in your arms as she cried and cursed this world for taking her sweet Eva. Until then she’d finally calm down and rest against you. She was a mess.

Until one day, Miranda took a walk. You were out with your respective family when she did so. And by the time you got back to her home that she shared with her husband. He had informed you that she was out walking alongside the river. With that your body seemed to back up before turning on your hill and running. As fast as you could for the grieved woman. When you found her, she was curled up in some black goo. Your hands moving to uncover the woman from its grasp. It seemed to want to fight against you and engulf her whole but you refused. Eventually Miraanda was managed to pull out. You had barely taken a time to look up and see the thing right in front of you.

With the medical experience from your family lineage. You seemed to make sure she was.. okay. And before long she awoke. But she was spouting all this nonsense on how it would save them. How it could bring Eva back. None of it made sense and you tried to calm her down to speak normally but she was pulling herself to her feet much to your dismay. But she soon pulled you along.

After that day, many things changed in such a short time. Miranda’s husband seemingly went missing. He was a sweet guy but a bit dense. Miranda seemed tense and even more upset after his disappearance. You’d often find her muttering things on how ‘it didn’t work’ and she’d ‘have to try with another.’

Then with that led a new religion. As you watched from the sidelines, your lover collected a cult like religion. To the black god, it always struck you weird for a village who was always so into Christianity even to the point of kicking people out. Now they followed something that seemed heretical.

Any worried you’d bring up, Miranda would always quiet you with either over speaking you or more physically means. It felt odd but never able to tell her no, you let it. But beyond that, she was attentive when she could be. The relationship you two held was still a focus of hers. Most nights as you laid together, you’d find her feeling your stomach. As if mapping it out.

The soft question of, ‘what are you doing.’ Would be brushed off into the dead of night. Her hand moving back up to hold yours. This brought up a chain reaction of many other odd situations.

She didn’t care for you to be around other people unless she deemed them ‘safe.’ Which was rarely anything. One time you had spoke to a local botanist about some help with flowers, and when she saw you it was clear she was upset. She was quick to trying to make you explain it to her once you two got behind the comfort of the home you now shared. Yet no matter how many times you’d say nothing came out of it, she refused.

She’d slowly pull you away from your family, and before long they also started to come up missing. With the exception of those who had young kids. But your mother and father were said to have walked into the forest and never returned. Many gossiped about this but just claimed that maybe the wolves got their dinner that night.

She’d sit there and comfort your cries once you had learned of your families demise a few years later. She comfort you and run her fingers through you hair as if she had not done any wrong. As if she did not know of the bodies in her basement. Yet you did not need to know of that. After all you were one of the more important things of life.

But as time passed on, things just got worse. Being secluded in such a way as she kept you to herself. Possessive and cold is how you could once describe the woman you used to love. Yet it was hard to leave her, she was still Miranda. The woman who used to sneak around everyone's back with you when you two were younger. Knowing if you two got found out, things would be bad for each other. Yet now here you were, laid in the home that once used to be so warm. Your body resting against the bed as she walked in, clearly upset. Unsure if you should move and help her get unready from the day, or if she would snap at you.

Hesitating for a moment before you pulled the cover off. Body slipping out of bed to make your way over to her to help with those weird robes she always wore. But as you went to offer your help, your hands were suddenly grasped tightly as your eyes looked up into her cold gaze. She then shoved you off of her, your body stumbling back a bit hitting the corner of a nearby dresser. She turned away with a scoff, ignoring the way you winced at the pain in your side - a bruise most likely growing on your skin. Why should she care anyways? Useless.

[ethereal-multiplicity]

⟡ The Connection Between Demons and "Ghost Hunts" - A Guide to the Demonic ⟡

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(Post header found on pinterest)

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Who here likes watching ghost investigation videos?

I know I do, but I have a huge grudge against youtubers who think they know everything just because they are intuitive. I have repeatedly heard the term "Demon" being used when something negative comes into contact with them, or even freak out when actual demonic entities reach out to help them.... thinking that clearly a demon must want them dead.

This is the problem, they are fear mongering to new people within the spiritual community, obviously its unintentional, but it's a severe issue that no one feels like correcting for the beginner spiritualists.

So I am going to correct it, because if I hear one more thing about demons being evil come from the mouth of a "psychic" or "spiritualist" I'm going to fucking lose it. How can you claim you are spiritual when those words are on your tongue like poison.

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Christianity stole pagan and indigenous gods and spirits to fear monger. They used the names of the entities people held dear to force them into a cage of doubt, used the names of their mythology to make it seem more familiar when converting them, making them think their gods were evil and wrong by using their names in the holy text.

That is why the witch trials happened, that is why colonizers took land, that is why indigenous people were at war for decades, and they are still fighting for their freedom today. Because Christians used their God, used Jesus' name to back any differing beliefs into a corner.

Don't believe me? Here is some translations and historical context Look them up, these aren't fake.

Lucifer = Baldr - Norse God, Phosphorus - Roman God, Venus and Saturn - Greek and Roman Planet Personifications

Satan = "To Oppose" or "Adversary"

Hell = Hel - Norse Goddess, Hades - Greek God

Beelzebub = Baal - Canaanite God

Even their precious Jesus isn't their god, they took his name from Judaism and butchered his story.

Demons have always been known to help guide humans to the truth, to save them from the control of God.

Lucifer guided Eve to the apple from the tree of forbidden truths, trying to save her from being Adam's cattle.

That is why Lilith became a demon, she wanted to be equal with Adam, she refused to lay below him, she ran and God punished her by forcing her to give birth to thousands of demons. She became the demonic liberator, all because she wanted to be properly loved and cared for as a human being, instead of being treated like she was a dog Adam could tame.

⊱ ☆ ⊰

If you research the demons of the Goetia, such as the 7 Lords, Buer, King Paimon, Barbatos, etc. They are all known as the keeper of truths, the teacher of knowledge.

Buer is the teacher of Moral Philosophy, Keeper of Hidden Knowledge, Teacher of Herbal Remedies, he could cure any illness, and he gifted witches with their familiars and protectors.

King Paimon is the Keeper of Hidden Knowledge and Truth, Keeper of Treasure, and Teacher of Academics/Science, Guider to life forces (Such as water)

Barbatos Guides people to Hidden Treasure, He helps heal any kind of relationship, He can understand the language of all animals, and He can see into the past and future.

All 7 Lords of Hell, Lucifer, Satan, Asmodeus, etc. all rule over one key thing. Freedom.

Lucifer and Satan liberate people from horrible and traumatic situations.

Asmodeus and Mammon allow people the freedom for earthly pleasures.

Beelzebub allows people the freedom to eat whatever they want without judgement. Such as pork and shellfish.

Belphegor allows people to rest and sleep as much as they need, not to force themselves or overwork their power.

Leviathan allows people to feel jealous, to feel angry, to make themselves so worked up that they change their life and get rid of what isn't serving them. He is the ruler of manifestation itself.

Do any of these entities sound evil? No! Of course not!

There is no actual historical context of any demon harming humans, in fact the only harm the bible says they do is teach them the forbidden truths.

Demons are liberators! They are saviors! They are the healer of religious trauma! There is a reason people with religious trauma tend to gravitate towards Satanism or Paganism. Demons are healers! Just look at Buer and Barbatos, they heal and protect humans and animals and expect nothing in return.

⊱ ☆ ⊰

But you may be asking, where does this all tie into the ghost hunters on youtube?

Well, the reason I have written this is to point out that demons aren't harmful, to provide proof to the beginner spiritualists that their is no reason to be afraid.

When the hunters say they've came into contact with a violent demon, its called a poltergeist!

Poltergeists are born of human negativity, they are entities born to cause harm and havoc. They are born from all the sadness, anger, trauma, and grief of this world. That is why when you go to these haunted locations with a fucked up history, there is going to be violent entities.

These spirits are hurting, hauntings happen for a reason. Spirits who are actually happy and content don't get stuck in our world. Their collective emotions and thoughts birth Poltergeists, and Poltergeists are made to act upon the violence that they were created with. They are made to seek vengeance on those who they view as a threat.

Has your mood ever got ruined, and then everything else that day went to absolute shit? That is kinda how poltergeists work, they are born from the pain of both the dead and the living, and when there is enough trauma, they come to "life". Poltergeists and the emotions that caused them, deserve to heal, not to be demonized.

I don't give a rats ass if that entity hurt you, trying to hurt it back or expelling it from your home/space is going to anger it, because you are oppressing an already traumatized being. But thats for another post.

My last point of proof is my lived experience, I was raised Christian, but every time I stepped foot in a church I had violent intrusive thoughts and feelings, to the point I constantly felt nauseous in church due to the overstimulating energy.

Once I found Paganism and Witchcraft, all of that went away. Around my gods, I am free, I feel loved, I feel their healing.

When I am sick? I feel their guidance and support allowing me to properly rest. When I am depressed? I feel their nurturing energy. When I am crying? I feel hands gently on the side of my face, my head, or my shoulders.

When I communicate with them? They tell me its time to heal from my trauma. When I ask them about the christian god? They tell me Christians have got it wrong, and God/Jesus is actually so kind and does not support anything Christianity has done in his name.

My point is, STOP TELLING THOUSANDS OF VIEWERS ONLINE THAT DEMONS WANT TO HURT YOU AND SPREAD ILLNESS THAT IS FEAR MONGERING

You cannot under any circumstances say your intuitive, psychic, or spiritual, and then refuse to understand the history of intuition, divination, and religion. You are not a healer, you are not a communicator, you are an oppressor.

This post isn't made to convince people demons are harmless.... but it is made to convince people to stop spreading their hate everywhere just because they don't understand something.

[kiwwia-wiwwia]

God Must Hate Me

A call to your mother goes horribly wrong. Luckily, Matt is there to help you pick up some of your broken pieces.

Listened to God Must Hate Me by Catie Turner and decided to project into my writing!

Matt murdock x reader, hurt/comfort, bisexual!reader Word count: 1.8k Warnings: swearing, religious trauma lol, self-loathing, implied CSA EDIT: I know Catholicism is a part of Christianity!!! This is just based on my parents and how they talked about other denominations :)

Your shoulders shook as you slid down the wall, silent sobs wracking your body. One hand was clutching your phone, the other clapped over your mouth, desperate to contain any noise that might slip out. Sinner, your mother had called you. Hedonist. Sodomite. Her words looped over and over in your mind, drowning out all other thoughts. 

You wouldn’t have called in the first place had it not been for your sister. She texted you the night before saying that she was back home caring for your elderly father who had caught the flu. She said that your mother wouldn’t stop talking about you, complaining that you never called, that she didn’t know anything about your life. You spent that night tossing and turning, contemplating whether it was worth getting back in contact with her. Your relationship with your mother had always been strained, considering the abuse you endured in your childhood, but you didn’t hate her. You couldn’t. You felt a sense of guilt in pushing her away, as if you were abandoning a debt you owed.

What pushed you over the edge was a text from your father this morning. 

Hi pumpkin. I miss your smile. I’m a little under the weather, and I’d love a visit from my girl. Hope all is well. Love, Dad.

Despite everything your mother had put both of you through, you and your father were always close. You had talked to Matt, sharing your dilemma. On one hand, you didn’t really want to speak to your mother. On the other hand, your father was getting old, and you didn’t know how many more visits you had with him. He had always been delicate, getting sick easily and hurting himself by accident. He was also the only person besides your sister who truly understood you until Matt, and you missed him.

“Give them a call,” Matt suggested. He looked so beautiful, his hair catching the sunlight from the window and his body draped over the armchair. His hand lazily grasped a mug, steam drifting up from the warm coffee. “If the call goes well, go over and visit. I’ll come with you, if you want.”

You chewed on your lip anxiously. “And… if it doesn’t go well?” Your fingers picked idly at the rug below you. You were seated on the floor, resting your head against his leg as you sipped your tea. This was your unofficial weekend tradition, the two of you seated in this position while you talked about… well, whatever you needed to talk about. Anything that didn’t get brought up during the week, a dream one of you had, a funny story you had from work. Mornings like this were sacred, the peace and domesticity somehow washing away any other worries. In these moments, nothing else existed except you and Matt, your own little corner of heaven.

He ran his hand through your hair, slowly and deliberately raking his fingers over your scalp until you sighed in contentment. “Then I’ll be here for that, too,” he hummed.

Now, you found yourself wishing you had never said anything in the first place. All you wanted was to talk to your parents, check up on them, maybe even test the waters of a possible visit. Instead, you were berated for your lifestyle, called a whore and a sinner and told you were destined for hell. 

“And how’s your love life? Have you finally found a nice man or are you still in your lesbian phase?” You bristled at the comment, knowing your mother never took your sexuality seriously. Your coming out had been a disaster and had resulted in you staying with a friend for two months because your mother couldn’t stand the sight of you. “I’m bisexual, mom, that’s not a phase. But… yeah, I met someone,” you admitted. Your mother scoffed on the other end of the line, which you pointedly chose to ignore. “His name is Matthew, he’s a lawyer here in Hell’s Kitchen.”

“Such an awful name for a city. Why do they call it that, anyways? It couldn’t have been heaven’s kitchen?” You kept quiet, doing your best to push off the inevitable argument as your mother plowed on. “It’s good that you’ve come to your senses and met a boy. Where does he work? Is he Christian? Does he want kids?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to keep the irritation out of your voice. “He runs his own firm, Nelson and Murdock, he’s actually over there right now to grab some paperwork. I don’t know if he wants kids, we haven’t really thought about it. I only just moved in with him, and no, he’s not Christian. He’s Catholic, goes to mass every week.” There was a long silence before your mother finally spoke again.

“You… you moved in? As in… you live together?” Her tone was as if you had just told her that you shoved someone off of a building. “Yeah, I was staying over so much that we figured it wasn’t worth spending money on an apartment I don’t live in.” You arched a brow at her sharp intake of breath. “Mom? You okay?”

“Honey,” she said, her words dripping with venom. “Are you having sex with this man? Before marriage?” You couldn’t help the choked laugh that escaped your throat. “Mom, it’s not the 1800’s anymore. People have sex and move in with each other, it isn’t a crazy concept. My sex life isn’t really any of your business, though.” She made a sound of indignation, her voice an octave higher than when she last spoke. “That is no way to talk to your mother! I can’t believe you would be such a sinner, after everything I worked so hard to teach you. This behavior is disgusting, you know that? Only whores engage in such hedonistic acts.”

You stiffened at her words, years of religious teachings and long hours spent in churches creeping into your mind. Memories of wooden switches and Sunday School songs wrapped their tendrils around your throat, threatening to choke you until you had to plead with God for mercy. You took a gulp of air, trying desperately to keep your voice steady as tears pricked your eyes. “Mom, I’m not going to let you make me feel bad for the way I live my life, especially regarding something as small as who I’m spending my nights with. I just called to see how you and dad are doing, but if you don’t want to talk to me, that’s fine. I have other things to do anyway.” Her voice pierced through your phone’s speaker before you could hang up, your name spat from her lips like it was something profane. “All I ever did was try to raise a nice Christian girl, and this is what I get in return? A slut that sleeps with women and men before she’s even married? A sodomite? And he’s Catholic! You know catholicism isn’t biblical, how many times have I told you to stay away from non-Christians?” Tears were streaming down your face at this point, recollection of the confession of your treatment at the hands of the local pastor resulting in beatings. For some reason, you could only form a response to the last part of her rant. “After all of that, catholicism doesn’t seem as bad,” you said dryly.

“If we weren’t on the phone I’d smack you across the face for that. Don’t bother calling again. I’m not interested in hearing the lifestyle of a hellbound heathen.” The call ended with a dull beep, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You distantly registered the sound of the door opening, footsteps coming down the hallway and making their way to where you were outside of the bedroom. Matt knelt in front of you, his unseeing eyes wide with concern. Your name fell from his lips as he cupped your face in his hand, lightly tracing his thumb along your cheek. “What happened? Was it your mom?” All you could do was nod as another sob escaped you. Desperate for some kind of comfort, you reached out your arms in a silent request. He complied without hesitation, drawing you into his chest and letting out a sad hum as you gripped his shirt, clinging to any semblance of stability.

“What do you need, love?” he asked softly, his fingers gently running up and down your spine. “Do you want to talk about it?” You instinctively shook your head and then paused, reconsidering. “I don’t… I don’t know why she still affects me the way she does,” you croaked. “It’s like every time we talk, I’m a scared little kid again.” Your voice dropped to a whisper, shame making your words thick. “She called me a whore, Matt. Called me a heathen for moving in with you, said I was going to hell. There was more, some sexuality stuff and Catholic-shaming you, but that was the main point.”

Matt went rigid, his fingers abruptly stopping their soothing motions on your back. When he spoke, his voice was dangerously low. “She’s wrong, love. You know those are just lies, right?” You shrugged helplessly, keeping your eyes trained on the ground as you shifted your position, opening up the space between the two of you. “I’m not religious. Not anymore, not after everything I went through in the church.” You sighed tiredly, scrubbing your hand down your face. “But being raised the way I was… it sticks, y’know? That belief system is a part of who I am, whether I want it to be or not, and I can’t help but think… what if she’s right? I mean, I’m not exactly a saint. Usually I’m pretty good at rationalizing all this stuff, but man, God must hate me. I’m such a bad person, Matt.”

He physically flinched at that. “Don’t ever call yourself that,” he seethed. You jerked your head up to look at him, his anger taking you by surprise. His words were sharp, his tone dripping barely-concealed anger. “You are not a bad person for living your life.” You made a noise of protest but he quickly cut you off. “I don’t know what they drilled into your head to make you hate yourself so much, but none of it is true. You’re the most wonderful, kind, selfless person I’ve ever met, and God help anyone who makes you think anything different.” He pressed a kiss into your forehead and you managed a small smile. “I love you. So much,” he breathed.

“I love you too. Thanks for trying to undo my religious trauma even though you have enough of it for all of Hell’s Kitchen. Sorry for crying on your shirt.” He chuckled at that, helping you to your feet. “Nothing to apologize for, love. Now, let’s go to the store. We need to buy some eggs.”

You arched a brow. “We have eggs in the fridge. What are you up to, Murdock?” He smiled, a mischievous glint in his eye. “We have a house to egg, of course. Don’t tell me you’re above petty revenge?” 

You laughed, the tension in your body draining. God, you loved this man. “Of course not. I’m a good heathen, after all.”

[scotianostra]

On November 24th 1572, John Knox, the leading light of the Scottish Reformation, died.

Say what you like about the man, but he is an integral part of our story, the exact place and date of his birth is not known with certainty, but it is generally accepted to be Giffordgate, near Haddington, East Lothian in either 1513 or 1514. Knox’s father, a farmer is said to have been amongst those slain at Flodden, around the time of his birth, but really we have no way of knowing this, born of a humble family, records of which are scant, another source tells us that his family stood in feudal relationship for The Earls of Bothwell and one of his forebears was killed at The Battle of Sauchieburn, where James III was killed.

The name “John Knox” is first recorded among the records of the University of Glasgow, where Knox enrolled in 1522. There, he is stated to have studied under John Major, one of the greatest scholars of his time. Major was at Glasgow in 1522 and at St. Andrews in 1531. How long John Knox remained at college is uncertain. He was ordained to the priesthood at some date prior to 1540, when his status as a priest is first mentioned.

By 1547, Knox was preaching at St. Andrews. When the French attacked a Scottish castle to quell a Protestant uprising there, Knox was captured and then spent nineteen months as a slave in France. After his release, Knox returned to Scotland and began his attacks upon the Catholic Mass, writing his tract A Vindication That the Mass Is Idolatry. His work in Scotland was put on hold, however, when the Catholic Mary Tudor ascended to the English throne. Her coronation and reign as “Bloody Mary” drove Knox from England, sending him to Europe where he travelled to Geneva and met John Calvin, who further instructed him in Reformed theology. Knox eventually left Geneva to pastor the English refugee church in Frankfurt, Germany.

Knox returned to Scotland in 1555, only to be driven out by persecution the next year. Returning to Geneva, Knox accepted a call to pastor the English church there. During this time, Knox offered his best-known contribution to the Reformation. Until Knox, and for some time afterward, the Reformers believed that a Christian must always live in submission to secular authorities. From Romans 13, they reasoned the King (or Queen) was established by God and, therefore, must be obeyed. Even wicked monarchs were to be obeyed, insofar as their commands didn’t violate Scripture. For Knox, this unquestioning obedience was unacceptable.

His experience and witness to persecution along with his view of idolatry led Knox to disagree with the prevailing view of subjugation to the throne. Focusing upon the Old Testament, Knox came to a different conclusion. Central to Knox’s position were the prophets and their insistence upon purifying the nation of Israel from idolatry. For Knox, the implications were obvious: just as Christians could not obey wicked laws, they should not submit to wicked rulers. In his mind the Catholic Mass was idolatry, and, therefore, the Catholic was an idolater. Any Catholic monarch—such as Queen Mary I—was, therefore, an idolatrous and wicked ruler. Christians should not submit to such rulers but oppose them.

Returning to Scotland in 1559, Knox led the Reforming party of Scotland. He continued to promote reformation and raised troops to assist in that goal. Over the last thirteen years of his life, Knox passionately fought for reform in Scotland and opposed the Catholic Church and Catholic rulers. Despite Knox’s hard work, his goal was not realized until after his death in 1572.

The statue in the pic is at New College Edinburgh that I took a couple of weeks ago. Knox's grave is now under a car park in Parliament Square Edinburgh.

[mushiver]

How can you be Bi/Trans and Christian?

Good question! Also a personal one, so it's hard to tell without a story. If you stick around to read, I appreciate it. I'm gonna be vulnerable on this dinky little tumblr page

I was raised a Christian and always believed. I'd say it "clicked" the most when I was 13, and that's when I committed. I've lost faith at times, but for the most part, it's always been the foundation of my life. I think about God before I make decisions, I rely on Him when I'm anxious, and I thank Him for everything. I'm very much summarizing it, but I have a good relationship with God. The more seeds I have planted in my faith, the better my life is, and the more loving I am to others

I heard about gay people when I was eight, and my first thought was "why didn't I think of that?" Like... of course people of the same gender can have romantic feelings. There's tons of variations in nature and humanity, and that made sense to me. I also thought it was ultra rare, so for the next several years, when I saw gay couples or lgbtq things online, I was looking from a distance, like I related so hard because of my isolating gender experience, but I thought no way it could be me out of millions. I was weirdly focused on the odds.

Similarly, when I found out about trans people at 12, I was like "of COURSE they exist" and I was blown away that people could transition. I related hard, even if I thought it would never be a possibility for me.

First, finding out I was bi. Even though I was blatantly attracted to guys and girls, I swept it under the rug with things like "but anyone would-" "but I wouldn't date-" "it's just admiration" until I was 14. I had a real crush then, and I fell super hard for one of my friends I met at church (he's now out as trans, but either way, we were the same gender at the time and are now), and that's when it hit me that it wasn't some fluke or me "wanting to be a part of the community" (even though the reason I did in the first place was because I felt ostracized because of the way I felt about gender)

I was down bad for this guy, and it was hard to tell what he thought of me because he was affectionate with everyone. But I thought I had a sliver of a chance, so I had a freakout and questioned my sexuality.

Throughout the years, I've heard Christians be homophobic, and I've heard people say it's a sin, but I never understood it. I never felt it in my heart. I didn't know gay people, but I wasn't kept out of that sphere, so I knew they had real, loving relationships, and it wasn't all about a party drugs and sex lifestyle. Can gay people live that way? Yes. Is it the majority? Not even close. Unhealthy behavior is what churches usually cling to, and they condemn the whole community by it. Similarly, people point at churches like Westbro and condemn all Christians. I'm sure you've all seen the vitriol back and forth, and queer Christians are in the line of fire on both sides. Community and support is beyond helpful because of that

Again, my faith comes first. I couldn't accept being bi if God couldn't, so I did a lot of research. On the anti-lgbtq side, I heard the Bible verses. They seemed to condemn it, but never spoke about love between two people. I'll come back to this. Mostly, the anti side used their own arguments, like "look at these people, they get aids" and "your identity should only be in christ."

The pro-lgbtq side took a deep dive into scripture. I was used to hearing "it's on the page, the Bible is clear" when TONS of scripture cannot be taken at face value. That's why theologians study the true meaning AND its use in modern, post resurrection life. It's hermeneutics. And the fact is, the word "homosexual" was added in the Bible in the 40s, before our modern understanding of it. References to homosexuality were references to the "lover-beloved" relationships between slaves and slaveholders, or teacher and student. "Effeminates" were catamites. Homosexuality wasn't a concept in the first century, but pederasty was, and the Bible condemns it. There's a long, rich history of the 6 verses about homosexuality, and it's too short for a tumblr post, but there's the Reformation Project to check out, CenterPeace, Torn by Justin Lee, God and the Gay Christian by Matthew Vines, and Walking the Bridgeless Canyon by Kathy Baldock.

Not only is there a lot of evidence (made in faith by people who want to determine God's will), there's tons of queer Christians living happily. It's not a double life. It's not holding onto sin. It's not holding onto a toxic religion. If you hate being lgbtq, something inseparable from yourself, then you're going to hate yourself. So many lgbtq Christians live in shame because they think it's their only choice. Conversion therapy doesn't work. Straight people can be straight and have their identity rooted in christ, but gay people are told they can't do that

Because I prayed about it for so long and did the research, I believed that being bi and Christian were not at odds. If you're a Christian, you probably know the feeling of being spiritually guided. I came out to a few people, including my parents, and they didn't accept it, but they tolerated it and didn't forbid me from dating if I got the chance (I didn't lol. Still have never dated and I'm 19). But even though I struggled with shame from their judgement, I was grateful they didn't ostracize me

Gonna fast track this because it's getting long, but being trans was the back-of-my-mind thing I ignored. I ALWAYS felt it somewhere. Since I was three, I sometimes imagined growing up a man. Any chance to prove I was manly, I did. I also hid it out of fear, so I was often hyperfeminine in appearance while masculine in behavior. It's all subjective, I know, but the point is that being masculine grounded me. That's what made me feel like myself. But I also wanted to be seen. It's frustrating when you're so uncomfortable in your body and being feminized, and you can't even look the way you want to because your family is the cops you don't want to make suspicious and the church is prison. It shouldn't BE the prison. It wasn't always that way. It's still a haven for lots of queer people, but I didn't want to be condemned for something that I couldn't change and didn't cause. I felt like there was a boy brain inside me, but it was my job and duty to play a girl

Once again, at 14, it came into question. It was my most social year (being homeschooled) so dysphoria was the worst it had been. I wanted to be seen as a guy. It took months of questioning and debating, but I cut my hair. Everyone was surprisingly cool with it, so over the years, I phased out my clothes and accepted my masculinity.

Every once in a while, I'd privately question my gender, think about my name, and pray like my life was in danger (from the anxiety) but I ultimately stopped when a family member got suspicious. This went on repeat for a year. Before I tuned 16, I was absolutely sure. I couldn't keep doubting it, and I needed to come out so I wasn't dealing with it alone. But again, some Christians are so hostile towards trans people, and I went down a rabbit hole that pulled on my anxiety and despair. It wasn't wrong in my heart, I wasn't furthering myself from God spiritually, but shame took over my own convictions. I spent the next year in deep denial and punished myself every time I thought about being trans. I grew out my hair, bought new clothes, and forced myself to wear makeup. I almost lost my life, and my arms and legs were covered in scars

That was the furthest I'd been from my faith. I carried my own cross with a "I'm doing this for you" mentality when it was never something God asked me to do. In a way, it was cowardly. I listened to the world, my shame, and my parents, and threw away what I knew to be the truth because standing for it made me too anxious. I did that for a long time, and I lost some months of my life. I can't physically remember them. It was a traumatic experience, so they're blocked out

When I couldn't take it anymore, I prayed after my silence and said "guide me." I took it slow, and stopped denying and pushing away thoughts about my future and my identity. I grounded myself and came back to my faith and started researching deeper into theology.

When I was sure of myself, I came out to my parents at 17. At the time, they took it as well as they could. They didn't shun me, and they started using the name I chose. It's been hard throughout the years, and they're not on good terms with it still, but I trust God to take it where it needs to go. I deal with a lot of grief with my parents, but I can't cower and hide what I believe in anymore. It effects more than just me

Now I've done years of praying, theological research, writing a 45,000 word essay, meeting queer Christians, reading the whole Bible, and having a relationship with God, and I'm at peace with myself. It took my whole life to get there, but I fight the shame that's placed on me with my faith. I rely on God. It's important that I distinguish myself as both a Christian and queer because there's still millions of people who are scared and suicidal because they've been told they have to get rid of it to love Him. When they can't get rid of it, they assume they're not enough, so they either lose faith or hate themselves

It's just a little detail in my bio, but that's how I'm both. I want queer Christians, or anyone really, to see me and know that I am this way, and my life is still whole. That's the long story short. If you're reading this and you're also a queer Christian, you're not alone and there's tons of people of faith fighting for us :)

I don't know anything about anon, but hopefully this answered your question

[victusinveritas]

Piece below break by Nigel Warburton.

I rejected Christianity at the age of 14, upsetting my grandmother by refusing to get confirmed in the Catholic faith of my upbringing. Partly it was intellectual issues: why would a loving and all-powerful God create a world with so much suffering? Partly it was ethical issues. It was a time when I was questioning my sexuality, and it seemed to me wrong not to allow a gay person to flourish through a loving relationship with a partner they are attracted to. But, most of all, Christianity just seemed very unspiritual. I got very little out of boring church services, and it seemed to be all about pleasing the old guy in the sky so you get to heaven. Science and philosophy seemed a more rational way to make sense of life, which ultimately led me to become a philosophy professor.

Despite rejecting religion, I always had a spiritual sense, a sense of a greater reality at the core of things, what William James called ‘The More’. But I would connect to ‘The More’ in my own way, through meditation and engagement with nature. In other words, I was a signed-up member of the ‘spiritual but not religious’ grouping.

And thus I remained for a couple of decades. I was happy in this club. There was no ‘God-shaped hole’ in my life. But, more recently, a few things have changed. The first was intellectual. Most of my fellow philosophers are persuaded either by the arguments for the very traditional idea of God, or by the case for Richard Dawkins-style atheism. I’ve come to think that both sides of this debate have something right.

n terms of the case for atheism, I remain as convinced as ever that the suffering we find in the universe is powerful evidence against the existence of a loving and all-powerful God. But I’ve also come to think there are powerful considerations in support of something Godish. One is the fine-tuning of physics for life, the surprising discovery of recent decades that certain numbers in physics are, against incredible odds, just right for the emergence of life. The second is psycho-physical harmony, the improbable alignment between consciousness and behaviour that is presupposed in any evolutionary story of the character of our conscious experience. All this was laid out in my recent book Why? The Purpose of the Universe (2023).

I now think the evidence points towards a hypothesis that John Stuart Mill took seriously: a good God of limited abilities. This hypothesis is able to account both for the imperfections of our universe – in terms of God’s limited abilities – and for the things about our universe that are improbably good, such as fine-tuning and psycho-physical harmony. God would have liked to make intelligent life in an instant, or by breathing into the dust as we see depicted in Genesis. But the only way God was able to create life was by bringing into existence a universe with the right physics that would eventually evolve intelligent life. God made the best universe they could.

The second change was discovering the great diversity of forms of Christianity. Wide reading and conversations with various Christian thinkers have given me a deeper sense of the mystical traditions of Christianity, as well as its radical roots. I haven’t changed my mind on the form of Christianity I rejected in my youth. However, I now think there are forms of Christianity that fit quite well with the limited God I now believe in.

The universe is in some sense inside God, and perhaps God is inside the universe

The final change was coming to see the value of a spiritual community. Being ‘spiritual but not religious’ can be a bit lonely and hard to sustain. Religion involves rituals and practices that bind people together across space and time, marking the seasons and the big moments of life – birth, marriage, coming of age, death – forming a bridge between society and the Divine. I feel happier and closer to the Divine when I can connect to it in relation to others.

The idea of God I received as a child was of something completely separate from the universe. However, there are versions of the God hypothesis that don’t see things in such binary terms. There are pantheists, who think that ‘God’ and ‘the universe’ are simply different words for the same thing. This seems like just atheism repackaged. But there are also pan-en-theists, who don’t quite identify God and the universe, but nor do they think they’re entirely separate. Panentheists believe there is an intimate connection between God and the universe; the two overlap. The universe is in some sense inside God, and perhaps God is inside the universe.

These ideas of the Divine resonate with me spiritually, in a way that the purely supernatural idea of God does not. There is a fit with the conviction of many mystics, as well as the English Romantic poets, that the Divine is present in all things. William Wordsworth spoke in the poem Tintern Abbey (1798) of ‘Something far more deeply interfused.’

Moreover, there is a close fit with the philosophical theory I have spent much of my career defending, namely panpsychism: the view that consciousness goes all the way to the fundamental building blocks of reality. For panpsychists, the particles or fields that make up our universe have their own very rudimentary form of conscious experience, and the highly complex consciousness of the human or animal brain is built up from these more basic forms of consciousness. Panentheism is more at home in a panpsychist picture of reality, as it’s easier to make sense of the Divine pervading the universe if the universe is filled with consciousness than it is if the universe is a cold, unfeeling mechanism.

Panentheism may also help us to make sense of the idea of a God that is subject to limitations. If God had to create the universe inside themselves, then it could be that the timeless and unchangeable nature of God imposed certain limitations on what could be created. Perhaps the deep simplicity and unity of God’s nature ensured that creation had to begin with a very simple starting point – the Big Bang – and could only progress to complexity over time.

I my book Why? I defended such views of our origins over both traditional atheism and traditional Western religions. What’s happened since then is that I’ve come to see that panentheism fits quite well with certain interpretations of Christianity.

Many people assume the essence of Christianity is as follows. We are all sinners and so we deserve to burn in hell for eternity. Fortunately, Jesus took the punishment we deserve and, as a result, if we accept Jesus’ sacrifice on our behalf, we’ll go to heaven to live with God when we die. Everyone who doesn’t accept Jesus’ sacrifice will burn in hell forever.

In fact, this is only one interpretation of Christianity, associated with the Protestant Reformation, although a similar view was defended by Anselm of Canterbury in the 11th century. It’s also, in my opinion, one of the most implausible theological doctrines in any of the modern global religions. I don’t think anybody deserves to burn in hell for eternity. And, even if we did, it wouldn’t achieve anything to punish an innocent man in our place. The word ‘Jesus’ is for many deeply associated with this picture, and so, in discussing an alternative, I’m going to borrow a trick from the author Francis Spufford and use the Hebrew version of Jesus instead: Yeshua.

Christianity is a little bit like quantum mechanics. In terms of the mathematics, quantum mechanics is our most successful scientific theory. The problem is nobody knows what on earth is going on in reality to make those equations work in predicting what we will observe. There are many different interpretations with no consensus on which is the correct one. Likewise, with Christianity, all Christians agree that Yeshua had some central role in the purpose of the universe. But there is no officially agreed view on the mechanics of that.

The views that are more plausible to my mind revolve around love and unity rather than sin and punishment. According to the participatory theory popular in the Eastern Orthodox Church, the Yeshua stuff was all about God becoming more similar to us so that we can become more similar to God. God wants us to share more deeply in their form of existence. But there’s a problem: the timeless, transcendent aspect of God is radically different from, say, a naturally evolved human being. Without God becoming more similar to their creation, the difference between God and creation is just too great for the two to share a common form of existence. The philosopher Robin Collins suggests this is analogous to the fact that ‘a tree branch cannot be grafted into a horse, only another tree; the horse is too alien for it.’ It is only once God, through Yeshua, shares in temporal, physical existence that the gap is bridged between God and creation, creating the potential for human beings and indeed the whole of creation to share more deeply in God’s form of existence.

-If Yeshua rose as a physical body, then surely he could have revealed himself to millions-

This view still doesn’t make sense to me if we’re assuming that God is all-powerful. If God can do anything, then they could have created us to share in their form of existence from the beginning, rather than subjecting us to millions of painful years of evolution. But if God is not all-powerful, then maybe they are on their way to creating a perfect universe but are only able to do this in two stages. In the first stage, they create an OK universe, one with the right kind of physics to eventually evolve intelligent life. Next, when creation has evolved enough, God begins to bring the universe to perfection by becoming more intimately involved in it, sharing in its nature that it can share in their nature. Perhaps this is a process that is still continuing – and maybe needs a bit of help from us – but which took a radical and decisive step forward in the events surrounding Yeshua.

Learning about this form of Christianity removed some of my big objections to Christianity. But the resurrection was still a big stumbling block. If Yeshua rose as a physical body that could be seen and touched, then surely he could have revealed himself to millions, making the existence of God and the truth of Christianity an indisputable historical fact.

These worries were countered only recently when I read the biblical scholar Dale Allison’s book The Resurrection of Jesus (2021), which presents a powerful defence of a slightly unorthodox view of the resurrection.

For Allison, the resurrection appearances consisted of visions, rather than literally seeing and touching a body. In other words, the resurrection appearances of the first Christians were more like the resurrection appearances of Paul on the road to Damascus. We might imagine that, soon after the crucifixion, the followers of Yeshua started being thrown to the ground and overwhelmed by intense visions: first Mary Magdalene, then Peter, later the 11 remaining disciples, 500 people at once, James the brother of Jesus, and many others, much later including Paul. Despite not involving a body that could be physically seen and touched, such novel and intense visions, occurring both to groups and individuals, could be enough to render it undeniable that reality had fundamentally altered in some radically new way.

Crucially, Allison is not denying that the resurrection was physical. He thinks that historical evidence supports the tomb of Yeshua having been found empty. But he denies the familiar narrative we find in Luke’s Gospel according to which Yeshua rose from the tomb as a body that could be seen and touched, hung around for a period of time, and then floated up to heaven – an event known as the ascension. Rather, Allison believes the first Christians identified the resurrection and the ascension.

In Paul’s letters in the Bible, he describes resurrection bodies as continuous with but radically different from ordinary bodies, as a plant is continuous with but radically different from a seed. For Allison, the tomb was empty not because Yeshua had stood up and wandered off, but because he had been transformed into a radically new form of physicality, perhaps a kind of formless energy. If we move a little beyond what Allison claims and adopt panentheism – on which the universe is part of God – then for this formless energy to be absorbed into God involves this formless energy filling the universe. In other words, Yeshua brought God closer to us not by being punished for our sin but by filling the entire universe with God’s love.

Do we have any reason to take any of this seriously? Traditional Christian apologists argue that the resurrection is the only explanation for the strange events that followed the crucifixion. We have good historical evidence that many people, including one violent opponent of the Christian movement, had experiences that persuaded them that Yeshua was in some sense alive again. They must have been incredibly powerful experiences because they motivated them to vigorously defend this conviction at great cost to themselves, including the cost of their lives in some cases.

I agree with traditional Christian apologists that there aren’t any very satisfying non-Christian explanations of the historical origins of Christianity. On the other hand, I agree with the view popularised by Carl Sagan that extraordinary events require extraordinary evidence, and I don’t think we have extraordinary evidence for the resurrection. It’s perfectly rational for an atheist to hold that Christianity was sparked by some kind of rare mass hallucination, preferring that explanation on the basis that, while improbable, mass hallucination is less improbable than a resurrection.

However, what counts as extraordinary depends on your worldview. I have tried to show how a certain form of Christianity fits quite well with a panentheist view on which God is not all-powerful, a view I believe to be well supported by current evidence. Relative to that worldview, Christianity – at least the form I have outlined – is not extraordinary; it’s one possible hypothesis as to what the purpose of the universe might be. By accepting that hypothesis, we get a more satisfying explanation of the origins of Christianity than anything available to a non-Christian (although note that the explanation I support, outlined in the previous section, is somewhat different from that of the traditional Christian). In other words, while the evidence for Christianity is not sufficient to persuade an atheist, it may be sufficient to persuade someone whose worldview is consonant with the truth of Christianity.

-Pragmatic considerations can play a role when the evidence doesn’t conclusively settle matters-

I hasten to add, these matters are inherently uncertain. I’ve come to think there’s a reasonable chance that a certain form of Christianity is true; but there’s also a reasonable chance it’s false. My intellectual hero William James argued that, in situations of uncertainty, when the truth is of monumental importance, in can be rational to choose to believe. He gives the analogy of being stuck in the mountains with the only way of escaping being to leap across an enormous chasm between two precipices. Intellectually speaking, it is uncertain whether or not you can make it. But if you choose to believe you will make it, you raise the chances that you will succeed.

The analogy is not perfect, as nobody is suggesting that a religion is more likely to be true if we believe it. But James’s example shows how pragmatic considerations can play a role when the evidence doesn’t conclusively settle matters. To take a contemporary analogy, it’s highly uncertain whether human beings will deal with the climate crisis. But it can be rational to believe we will, if that belief can provide meaning and motivation.

Faith is not about certainty. It is fundamentally a decision to trust your spiritual experiences, and to trust a certain framework for interpreting and acting upon those experiences. Hindus interpret their spiritual experiences as awareness of Ultimate Reality at the core of one’s being, and respond by meditating to realise their identity with Ultimate Reality. Christians interpret their spiritual experiences as awareness of a loving creator, and pray to deepen their relationship with God. These decisions to trust certain experiences influence how you see the world, how you respond to other people, and how you engage with nature. For a person of faith, each moment of daily life is permeated with meaning and significance.

This openness to uncertainty allows for pluralism. If faith requires certainty, then people of faith must be certain that their religion is right, and hence certain that other religions are wrong. But for trust to be rational, it’s only required that we’re not putting our trust in something wildly improbable. If there’s a 30 per cent chance that my loved one will make it, then it’s rational to have faith that they’ll pull through. But if the doctors tell me the chances of survival are sadly less than 1 per cent, then my loved one and I should enjoy our last moments and prepare to say goodbye.

This doesn’t mean faith gets a free pass. If Dawkins is right, there’s less than a 1 per cent chance that God exists, in which case it’s irrational to trust in the tenets of a theistic religion. However, if Dawkins is wrong, it might turn out that more than one religion is probable enough to have faith in. I have come to think that Christianity, in a certain form, is a credible possibility. But I have no problem with the idea that other religions may also be probable enough for it to be rational to have faith in them. If it is highly uncertain which religion is true, it may be rational to bring in pragmatic considerations, such as which religion you feel culturally comfortable in, to select a faith to follow.

Finally, I want to bring in one crucial element I haven’t mentioned so far: the extraordinary teaching of Yeshua. His focus on the poor and the weak, his talk of loving your enemies and turning the other cheek, his attacks on those who overvalue tradition or social status, were light years ahead of their time, and have played a crucial role in shaping the modern ethical ideals that we still struggle to live up to. This in itself proves nothing. But, for me, it’s a vital element in the mix, giving credibility to the possibility that the events depicted in the New Testament describe some profound moment in the evolution of reality.

Life is short and much is uncertain. We all have to take our leap of faith, whether that’s for secular humanism, one of the religions, or simply a vague conviction that there is some greater reality. In deciding, it’s important to reflect on what’s likely to be true but also what’s likely to bring happiness and fulfilment. For my own part, I have found a faith that is certain to bring me happiness, and which is, in my judgment, probable enough to be worth taking a bet on.

[lover-of-mine]

You don't have to answer this question at all if it's too personal . I won't feel bad. I'm just trying to get an idea of what to expect. I'm agnostic and wasn't raised in any religion. I don't even know really anyone who practices Catholicism. The only thing I can interpret from my friends who are Christian is its definitely, harsher??? Values ingrained in them. I was wondering if you were raised religious and had to battle being queer vs any pre conceived notions you held or your family may have. I swear you said something once about Nuns crossing themselves when they passed you for having colored hair? Sorry if I'm wrong on that. I just feel like if they are doing this they are really doing it and what a story of deconstructing yourself might look like.

Okay, this is a complicated question. I was raised religious and for all intents and purposes, I still am, but while I am christian, I was never catholic. I was raised with spiritism as a belief and they are a lot more open to stuff than different churches. The experience I had with catholic people telling me stuff like being queer is wrong was in school, because my city is very catholic and because we had a religious study class that was mandatory and the teacher was very Sunday school type vibes even though it wasn't supposed to be a catholic leaning class, but at that point I was old enough to push back, so I was constantly fighting my teacher. I'm not out to my family because while my parents never had a problem with queer people, my dad has made some comments about bisexual people that make me scared even tho they weren't fully bigoted, it's just boomer talk, being ignorant, and, honestly, I think he knows and he's waiting for me to say something because there was a situation with one of my cousins a few years back that got me really heated because her side of the family is very religious, and she's some shade of queer and people kept using religion against her, and my dad suddenly started talking about acceptance and stuff like that while supporting how frustrated I was with my uncle, but honestly, at this point I'm kinda settled into only coming out to them if there's a girl I want them to meet. I did go to university in a very religious city and I had to deal with multiple people commenting on my appearance, specifically colorful hair, the nun thing did happen, I had blue hair and I was wearing a shirt that had a cross made of skulls, they didn't like that, but I've had people tell I'm not getting into heaven and my sin was pink hair. I can't really help with this particular aspect because my struggle with being bi was never about someone telling me that loving women is wrong, it was always I do like men, so I just thought people felt that way about everybody. I fully kissed another girl and didn't accept I was bi until like, 3 years later lol. I will say that catholicism as a whole is very engrained into latino culture, and I did experience that adjacently, the whole being gay is a sin thing, but since in my house I didn't have that, I pushed back, I pushed back enough that my whole school believed I was a lesbian by the time I hit highschool (I grew up in a small town, everyone knows everyone)

Now, applying the whole thing to Eddie, I think with the way that Eddie talks about religious pressure defining some steps he took with his life, deconstructing his relationship with religion and the concept of God would be important for him to fully accept himself if that's where they're going. Mostly because I think he needs to confront the way he views the works and when you grow up religious, it does affect the way you look at things even if you don't believe that religion anymore. But I don't think I can give anything more insightful given the way I don't know how it feels like to experience catholicism the way Eddie does. I do believe that Eddie finding himself does mean Eddie accepting he is some shade of queer, and since they touched on the whole catholic guilt last season, that's a good way to force him to accept that there's nothing wrong with him, but it's more about the way I watched people go through similar stuff, not any personal experience.

[kimyoonmiauthor]

Sections of the Terfs and "Gender Critical"

'cause the rule is "Know your enemy" and as soon as you make them into one amalgam, you've lost.

So I've been paying attention and they come in these categories...

The Religious Right

There is no such thing as gender.

But women have to be the most oppressed.

Gender and sex are the same thing.

The Religious Right

Usually they are Christians, I haven't really met any of any other religions.

They usually come with the Bible and Bible thumping.

While they are Bible thumping, the people they are most likely to quote, since people have narrowed them to not use Jewish texts... since Jews are not Anti-Trans by an large and people have soundly defeated them about Genesis and what Genesis was truly about--they are likely to quote Peter or Paul, Paul more likely than Peter.

I bothered to read the whole thing for context. And often the people that claim to have read the Bible, don't remember it. I, unfortunately, do and often pull the context from the quotes they pull from.

Paul was the OG incel, at least to me. He had all these opinions about women, but never had any relationships with women. He also was the least liked by his peers according to religious scholars and because of this went off the sulk (these are not my words, BTW, this comes from the mouth of Christian theologians from the Real Face of Jesus documentary, etc). He also never really quoted Jesus in any of his texts. He referred to various speeches in his letters of conversion, but he never really quoted or retold Jesus' stories in any of his work, rather this is more like what he thought Jesus' work meant.

Peter, the said-to-be-first Pope is less likely because the majority of the non-Catholics don't like him as the first Pope. They tend to see him as a sign of corruption of the church, etc. He also tends not to quote Jesus, but if you want the person who made the whole freaking list of long rules in Leviticus into the 10, this is Peter. Peter is also anti-women in many ways and also talks about things like submission—which is useful for a non-Trad Christian type. For the Trad Christian type, they are usually too far gone.

The next likely person they'll pull is Matthew. Matthew, for context did often quote Jesus, but if you read his text in full (for one, he reads like a Jew, at least to me, as a Jew...) He wrote in Hebrew, BTW, which the majority of the people don't read. The majority of the texts are about acceptance of the other. The whole of the ideas is to not limit who can join the Church. And, in fact, he refers to different genders that were outcast at the time, quoting and talking about Jesus accepting those genders. And in Judaism, there are 6 or 8, depending on if you go Torah or Talmud.

Poor Luke... I suppose they don't want to deal with him. The top three are always those three.

Jesus specifically said that all "Eunuchs" (which is a poor translation of the Hebrew, BTW, because it doesn't translate well) were welcome in his Church, though he recognized there were 2 sexes as defined in Genesis. This is probably better defined as men that voluntarily have their organs removed were considered unclean by the Jewish religion at the time. Later texts revised this. (So men who got castrated or vasectomies) And also under this was "men who are impotent" who were allowed in.

They are not considered genders now, because of mainly Thomas Aquinas, who worshiped Aristotle. And if you notice, Aristotle and the Greek Scholars that Thomas Acquinas took from were not Jesus.

Meaning Jesus, the real OG recognized all genders and said they were welcome, while a non-Jesus Christian who worshiped Pagans did not.

Thomas Aquinas also gave the world ideas of women being inferior in Christianity, and the ideas of ensoulment, which are not in the Bible, but taken from Greeks. Greeks who are not Christians, and people should really examine if they want to worship pagans as Christians.

In addition, God wears a Dress on the Sistine chapel several times over. He did not care.

Pink, was only a feminine color after about the 1950's, though it's a bit more complex than that.

But even so, it doesn't matter.

The reason they hate it is because they think it's Bible Tradition, when it's not Also in Matthew is the story of the Good Samaritan which is about a Sumerian traveler who helps a Jew regardless of religion.

They want justification for their feelings of disgust and because they engage so much, they think that the other side is "invading." But the rule is often their quoting is out of context and they didn't read the whole thing, which is the worst game of telephone I've ever seen.

Usually when you say then read me the books of Matthew and direct quotes from Jesus, they lose steam. Because often they haven't read the Bible, and only quoted from what they were given, and fail to see their arguments are really from pagan-lover Thomas Aquinas who was neck deep into agricultural thought at the time and needed to justify the subjugation of women, thus pounding on the idea of only two sexes and genders with women as inferior was useful to him.

Often, too, they are reliant on the English translation, rather than being able to pick up the words, which is why one can defeat their arguments about Genesis easily since Genesis is about the invention of language as gendered, as much as it is about the invention of the world. Thus a Jew can defeat a Christian because often a Christian doesn't know enough about Hebrew of Judaism to understand the full context from which Genesis was birthed. (Maybe intentional; pun). So they don't know the rib is a penis bone aka Baculum, for example. The man and woman part if you understand the Hebrew context is talking about the invention of gendered LANGUAGE and why the language has gender to it. But English lacks for the most part these genders, so the separation doesn't work this way.

Then they lean on Noah, 2 by 2, and then you have lizards that are mostly female and reproduce by Parthenogenesis. The Lesbian lizard, The almost all female Mourning Gecko, for example. There are males, but they are mostly infertile.

There are Christian websites that argue that Jews just don't know their own lore well enough, but most of those also refuse to cite the Hebrew words because if you look up the Hebrew words, the Jews and Hebrews flat out say there are more than 2 genders and then the Christian argument is sunk.

By here, they either rage block while you're having fun knowing the Bible more than them, or they start trying to empty preach at you because they got nothing else. The second you can acall them on because they got nothing and they can't accept what God really said, thus are they Christian or trying to use their religion for hate, which BTW, Paul, ironically had words for. But it also ignores the whole of Matthew's ideas that all should be accepted in their natural state. BTW, if they are conservative--there are always conservative white male politicians you can find who get into grooming scandals or are pro-child marriage recently and statics you can utilize from RAINN.

2. There is no such thing as Gender

This camp believes usually these things:

Sociology is useless because they don't agree with Sociology.

That biology proves their point. (though it doesn't)

Therefore gender doesn't exist. There is no male, not female, no woman no man.

What they want is hardcore proof of the existence of gender itself. Though going a few rounds teasing them they are sounding very agender, which is trans is entertaining. I won't lie, it's not helpful in the long run.

There are science articles about the make up of the brain to show that gender does exist and gets programmed in over time.

BTW, hormones can change a person's sexual orientation, but not their gender. More testosterone makes men more likely to be same-sex attracted.

Yes, the most masculine men are gay, yo. Haha. People will flip outtttt.

While they are claiming they don't like sociology, Sociology also designs the internet, road and most of civilization itself as researchers apply it to make roads better the internet more usable in UX models, etc.

Usually the people who claim to this argument are white men, and they have a poor ability to read the articles in question. So they will try to back behind not having any proof on their side at all by saying well they just don't believe in gender.

This is easily defeated by picking up on socialization cues and they will quit because they won't want to admit anything that might feminize them.

If you ask, did you play dolls and dress up wear pink frilly dresses, because your parents didn't care... you never were called "gay" as an insult as a child... this is about when they will quit because all of those things come from culture. And saying that gender is not socially constructed and doesn't give feedback to you on your behaviors is a path that fragile white man doesn't want to go down.

If they are in defense of Rowling, well, that's even better. Because Rowling is definitely not in this camp.

She's in the next camp.

3. But Women are the most oppressed.

So this camp believes there are men and there are women, and they ARE socialized differently. By and large this is mostly white women. They do not want the religious arguments because they think the Catholic Church are oppressors.

Often they argue things like Trans people are a threat to their well being because Trans people are lying about their gender.

But they also are often coming off the back of a trauma with get this... cis men (usually white). That's the case with Rowling also. She's deflecting her trauma with her ex-husband and father onto trans women because subconsciously they are easier to attack than cis men, because to her, trans women aren't women, but men as a threat.

And it's fair of me to talk about because look, I've gone through r***, and abuse that I probably shouldn't share because it'll trigger someone, but I don't think that her habit of displacing her anger and grief on minority groups is that healthy. She did it with adoption too (which I posted about already).

The core of this is the victim mentality which gets you a TON of attention, which feels *good* after a lot of abuse, but the thing I have to say having gone through it so many freaking times is that high doesn't last long when you're not looking at self-care and perpetuating hate, so you need a new supply of what might feel like schadenfreude, but it isn't.

They think they are being embraced for their traumas with cis men, but they aren't. And I'm here to say they need to reach for survivor because victimhood isn't a good mental space to be and launching yourself into hate campaigns against minorities won't help heal the hurt and pain when you can't take power from your true oppressors. Hate is isolating which is often why on the path of survivorship there is forgiveness asked for.

So, the argument here is to ask them why they won't go after white cis men who oppressed them in the first place and the core of the patriarchy which they are too afraid to fight.

4. Gender and Sex are the same thing.

Usually white again, but I've seen other races mixed in.

So the argument usually says that women are all female and then all men are male (and excuse this language) intersex [people--though this word isn't usually included either.] are mutants only worthy of scorn. (Even if they cover the same population as the population of Mexico as of 2024 in the entirety of the human pop proportionally. Though when facing this fact, they usually hesitate to say that Mexicans don't count in the world pop because they'd get marked for racism.)

This says it's a binary model. If you go test it it usually goes this pathway--you test mourning gecko, they say but that's in REPTILES and REPTILES don't count. Only mammals do.

Which is about time you counter with the Lions that turned masculine.

And the general weirdness of cats in this area.

And then they narrow it to humans.

So the argument goes the gender is the same across the board.

Around here, There is Thai, Native American/Indigenous American, Bugis of Indonesia, and historical articles. And Japanese men use questions which in English are gendered for women. If gender and sex are the same they should be the same internationally, but they aren't so the argument is racist.

Often they try to argue that this gender ideology thing is "new" which is why I usually pull Eleanor Rykener around this time and point out that they were ordered to dress female all their life.

The very gay James I. And also the whole of Shakespeare while we're at it.

Showing changing gender norms over time will often cinch it. Because do thy think wearing silk stockings, a dress, lace, etc is "appropriate" for a man?

Then they usually back into the "Well I don't think children should be groomed and have sex reassignment surgery."

And then there are PLENTY of articles disproving this to be the case and pointing out what puberty blockers are for and the process to get them.

Usually around here, you either get blocked or they try to call in reinforcements.... in which case you should argue that you want to know their opinions, not anyone else's. And then they fold.

The truth is they want to hate someone they think is weak. But if they find a strong opponent it won't be fun for them anymore which is why they usually slink off or try to hit that report button, etc.

BTW, avoid using the word "cis" and use "cys" on Twitter (deadname Twitter hard).

The thing with Terfs which isn't true about the trans community, is if they disagree or see someone taking an argument different from theirs, they abandon them.

The thing about the trans community, is though two people might not agree on what trans-ness is for them, and what it means to them, or how to describe the thing, there isn't abandonment, because there is no thrill or schadenfreude. There is more thrill in sharing stories of being trans itself and sharing the identity. Someone identifies with he/they. I'm not offended at someone who is open pronouns. Someone is a trans woman. I'm not offended as an NB.

But terfs and anti-trans, yo—they jump ship and scold their own fast. It's sharks out there. I've seen it in real time when you win an argument they will turn on that person and try to eat them alive.

[girldragongizzard]

Chapter 10: The weird of Chapman

By now there is a lot of speculation as to why dragons are now a visibly extant phenomenon on Earth.

We’re all so different that experts are insisting that we can’t be called a species. But there are a lot of people doing it anyway. All of us once appeared to be human, though. All of various ages, including some infants, who are now whelps or hatchlings or yearlings or whatever we’re called at that age. And a 94 year old shed his human guise and appears to be every bit as young and spry as me, by all draconic appearances. And certainly not every one of us has turned out to be trans. It’s about the same rate as with humans. At least amongst the dragons who could be interviewed.

There’ve even been some prominent politicians around the world who turned out to be dragons, including in the U.S. And a lot more people in lower levels of government in all sorts of places.

People of all walks of life, all economic statuses, and all ethnicities. All known neurotypes. Though, it seems we were all neurodivergent in some way before the mass metamorphosis. Closeted and uncloseted therians and otherkin. Alterhumans, as a lot of people want to say, though that term never sat right to me.

We’re clearly not human, in the case of dragons.

But not every dragon alterhuman/therian/otherkin went through the metamorphosis. And that whole online community is jealous.

I do feel for them. It’s not fair at all.

But all this does leave us with a bunch of clues, and people of all types are speculating.

One of the wildest theories, coming from way out of left field, with no mythological basis that either Chapman or I can discern, but that I nonetheless really like, is that dragons have always been on Earth and were one of the creatures that developed a symbiotic relationship with humans. But something made it necessary for us to hide. And somehow we did. And the suggestion that’s unsupported is that it took the act of some forgotten god to do it.

Some of the speculators are linking it to the rise of Christianity and the myths of dragon slayers that were spread around that time, especially as Western colonialism grew. But I don’t know. I feel like that has holes in it.

But, anyway, the idea is that dragons were being hunted by someone or something, maybe during that time, maybe way, way earlier, when there were a lot fewer humans. And the hunters were also endangering the villages of people who had a relationship with the dragons.

And someone prayed to the right god, and that god did a thing, and made it so that we dragons receded into myth, into imagination, literally. Meaning that we continued to live in the collective unconscious of humanity as a whole.

But now that that god has become forgotten, their power faded, and we’ve re-emerged.

This doesn’t explain why we manifested in the bodies of specific humans, including infants, but other people are running with that and coming up with all sorts of explanations for that. They’re all so wild, more so than this forgotten god thing itself, that I’m not going to entertain them myself.

What’s happened has happened, and there’s no denying it. Whether it has an explanation or not.

But I do really love the idea that we’re supposed to have a symbiotic relationship with humans. It fits with my own emotions and instincts. And it fits with some of the oldest stories I’ve read, and some of the myths from places that weren’t so colonized by the West.

But our existence is also driving a lot of other people right up the wall.

If other therians, who feel left behind, are wailing about it on Tumblr, Discord, and Tik Tok, some of the temples and churches of the world are boiling with the fury and desperate prayers of people who are confused about why their beliefs aren’t manifesting in reality. Why aren’t their gods fulfilling their promises? Or whatever.

I mean, other religious people are not just delighted by us dragons, but celebrating us. Maybe a lot of them. And there are some dragons who are being outright worshiped, and it’s only been five and a half days, going by my experience.

But there are definitely people damning us with every fiber of their souls.

And, furthermore, now there’s serious discussion that the next presidential debate, actually the first debate of this election cycle because one of the candidates has been canceling them, is only going to be about dragons. And the candidate of the openly fascist party, who has been canceling the debates, has vowed to attend this one.

And that’s the thing that makes this all feel like too much, and we all fall silent again.

But it’s during this lunchtime discussion that I get the impression that Chapman is hiding something. Sie was reacting smugly about things that didn’t warrant that reaction. And I want to ask. But before I can type out any sort of question, they have to leave to get back to work on time.

“What was that about?” I ask the others.

“What was what about?” Jill asks. She’d joined us when Chapman had become most animated.

“Chapman smug,” I reply.

“Sie didn’t seem smug to me?”

Nathan shakes his head.

Rhoda furrows her brows and purses her lips.

“I didn’t see it,” Kim responds.

I bob my head, and then say, “Maybe me.”

“No, I know what you mean,” Rhoda says. “But I don’t think it’s up to us to speculate. Chapman will tell us if sie has anything useful when sie’s ready.”

I bow my head. That’s fair. Taking all hir words at face value, sie was in accord with the rest of us. Maybe sie’s been researching something that supports our take on the world, but just isn’t academically sure of it yet. Or, maybe sie was just feeling euphoria from hypesharing and getting information from the rest of us, and that’s how sie was expressing it.

Still an absolute delight to be around, and I immediately miss hir presence.

Hir reticence to talk about what sie is feeling does remind me of our encounter in the lobby of our therapist.

Wow, it’s only been two days since then?

I really need to relax about Chapman. This is just silly.

If I were to describe how they were dressed today, though, it would be rockabilly pinball literal wizard. I’ll just let you imagine what that outfit entailed.

I look at Rhoda and she raises her eyebrows at me.

Jill slaps her thigh and asks, “So! What’s the plan?”

Nathan leans forward on the table and says, “Well, we give Meg’s property management company my address for shipping all of her stuff to someplace safe, and tell them to pack everything, even the garbage. We’ll sort it, eventually. It’s her hoard, after all. But I imagine she can’t exactly visit my space without a challenge from my local dragon.” He looks at me.

I bow my head.

“Then we all go in on a big giant keyboard for her, so she can use my old computer for blogging, because the world needs to read what it’s like to be in her sh – er – footprints,” he elaborates. Then he gestures at me and says, “And she sleeps on the roof of this building until someone objects, I imagine.”

I jerk my head up and then cat smile long and slow.

“It’s not exactly the legal solution, but it’s probably the most ethical one,” Nathan says. “But in the long term, we’re really just going to have to see how it all shakes out.”

I bob my head once.

“I agree,” Rhoda says.

I say, hitting talk every few words, “Went to cave. Whitman there. We fight. I win. I flee. 50 to 100 dragons in county. Too many. I move I fight. I stay I fight. I stay I fight at home. For home.”

Both Jill and Kim sigh.

Jill says, “That makes sense I guess.”

And Kimberly, who’s just joined us asks, “Who’s Whitman?”

Rhoda points up at my apartment through the awning, “The one that did that.”

“Oh, right! I remember now. Why are they called Whitman?”

“Yawp,” I say.

“Oh, that’s funny!”

—

Am I ever going to learn how to talk with my own voice again?

Human children take a couple of years to work that out with what they’ve got, and they’ve got the instincts to do it.

I’m on my sixth day of having a syrinx instead of a larynx, and I’m not reading any stories about any talking dragons yet.

There are approximately six million of us in the world. And we’re pretty disruptive and famous. If one of us could talk, it’d be all over the news.

I might imitate words and string them together intelligibly. Some day. But maybe not by the time I’m done telling this part of my story.

—

After hir work is done, Chapman comes back to the coffee shop to find me sitting at my outdoor table alone, watching the construction workers using a crane and a cherry picker to haul jacks up to my apartment to shore up the wall. And they’re doing this while other workers are hauling in scaffolding, and getting it ready to set up to do the real work later.

My seagulls are not agreeing with me, and I must look miserable, because Chapman asks how I’m doing.

“Indigestion,” I say.

This excites hir, and sie taps the table with hir finger.

“You need to eat rocks,” sie says.

Oh my God. It’s in my frickin’ blog url, girldragongizzard, and I hadn’t thought of it yet.

I look at hir, tilting my head slightly, and sie looks at me back with tight lips. We bob our heads lightly at the same time.

Sie taps the table again.

“Rock. Yes,” I say.

“Smooth rocks, probably,” Chapman says. “To be safe. Maybe from the sea shore or a river bed.”

“How big?” I ask.

Chapman shrugs and says, “I’m not a biologist.”

I’m going to have to go with my gut, it seems. And my gut is really unhappy right now.

“Is there shoreline in your territory?” Chapman asks.

I think about it. There’s Bayside Park, but I don’t think it has a shore with rocks I could swallow in it. So I turn my head to the side.

Chapman taps their chin for a bit, and then snaps hir fingers, “The library. I think there’s a drainage bed or sculpture installation there with some river rocks. They’d object to you taking some, but two or three of them shouldn’t really hurt their landscaping. Is that in your territory?”

It’s only a few blocks away, but it’s closer to another dragon than it is to me, so technically it isn’t. But I wager I could visit there quickly and quietly without much of a problem.

“Nevermind, I’ll get them,” sie says. “I think you should start conservative and try three rocks about this big each.” Sie makes a circle with hir index finger and thumb. “That’ll be easy for me to carry, and I don’t think they’ll hurt you.”

I incline my head in agreement, and then bob it.

“Yes,” I say.

“I’ll be right back,” sie says.

And almost immediately after sie’s gone, I hear Loreena and Poink squabbling with each other to the East of me. And that’s in the middle of a residential area, if I’m visualizing it right. 

That’s not going to go over well with the humans.

But I do nothing. I just sit and listen to them work it out while I wait for Chapman to come back.

And then I hear sirens headed that way, and still do nothing.

It’s not in my territory. I can’t be moved. But I do wonder how that’s going to turn out now. Who’s going to be hurt the most.

I momentarily feel the urge to make my challenge cry, but I swallow it and it goes away.

Drawing attention to myself is not protecting myself right now, and I’m able to convince my body of that.

It reminds me of making some progress on managing my C-PTSD by consciously choosing which trigger reaction to roll with.

It occurs to me that I’ve been avoiding the news myself, and getting it all through Chapman and Rhoda. And I would expect that there’ve been some dragon related deaths by now, with the way the world is, but I’m not hearing about them. Either dragons killing people, each other, or getting killed by people.

Sure, it’s only been six days, but with the way my last two days have gone, I find it hard to imagine that tragedy hasn’t struck somewhere in the world. Especially with some high profile people turning out to be dragons.

Are my friends filtering the news for me, or are things going better than I can imagine?

It takes a while for Chapman to return, and in that time the sirens have stopped, at which point Loreena and Poink got even louder and more desperate sounding. And then there are a series of pops from the same direction. And then more sirens and a bunch of challenge cries from the surrounding dragons. Neither Loreena nor Poink fall silent, even after the repeated pops.

It sounds like a complete disaster.

And Chapman looks scared and concerned when sie returns around the corner of the front of the shop, rocks in one hand, shoulders hunched.

“Here. You should swallow these, maybe one by one, and then rest while they do their work,” sie says, placing the rocks on the table. “I don’t know what it should feel like, or if you should do anything to make them go to the right place. But I bet they’ll help.”

I go ahead and pick them up with my mouth, one by one, and swallow them. I feel like I’m taking medicine.

“What is going on over there?” Chapman looks back Eastward. “It sounds like they’re killing each other. All of them. Those were gunshots.”

“Yes,” I say.

Sie looks back at me and asks, “Was that Loreena and Poink that started it?”

I freeze. I don’t move. I don’t answer. I just look at Chapman until sie says something else.

I hadn’t told them the names of my neighbors yet, and I don’t think Rhoda nor Nathan relayed that information.

I don’t know what to think. I’m not exactly scared or wary. But I am definitely confused. I feel like I’ve slid into another reality. More so than when I woke up as a dragon.

That maybe sounds dramatic, but my reactions have all been dramatic lately. And some of my senses heightened, or simply present when I didn’t have them before. And I feel like I just sensed something shift, right before Chapman said that.

Sie tilts hir head like I usually do, like a curious pug.

I look down at my tablet long enough to type, “What are you?” And then I look back up at hir.

Sie frowns, “What do you mean?”

“What are you?” I repeat.

“I don’t think I like that question,” sie says, scooting hir chair back.

I take a deep breath in through my nose, and then let it out the same way, and decide to try a different question. I maybe could have worded it better, but I’m frustrated by my AAC, honestly.

“What can you do?” I ask.

“A lot of things,” sie says, and gets up. “But I think I’m going to go eat dinner right now. You should digest things, I think. I’ll be back tomorrow.” Sie turns and walks to the corner to wait for the light, even though there’s no traffic at the moment. Then sie turns back toward me and adds, “I think I maybe made a mistake. But I need to think about it. I’ll fill you in later. This is me being weird. Not you.”

I realize I still don’t know if Chapman is hir first name, last name, or only name.

The construction workers wrap up what they’re doing and leave the site about fifteen minutes later, heading home or out to have their own dinners and relax and go to bed. And other union protected behaviors.

I don’t need dinner.

I’ve got two seagulls, three rocks, a handful of thoughts, and a maelstrom of emotions.

Eventually, the war happening two neighborhoods over calms down. But I don’t think the full consequences of it have been felt yet.

[barbietoiles]

Big ramble about baghera and christians performance and also dance technicalities because i need you to appreciate them RIGHT NOW

Bagheras expressions her expressions oh my god shes so good do you know how HARD it is to be expressive like that??? its like dancing twice!! Every instructor ever will tell you expressions are 50% of the performance shes nailing it!!!!! Christians face is unchanged and hes a professional dancer which is valid but also i find it a little funny. Focus 100

The way baghera and christian trust each other! Pair dancing is a two way street always and constantly - even if the "picked up" party seems to be putting in less effort than the "one who picks up" party, that is FAR from the truth. You have to essentially make both your body masses one, knowing where to put your limbs and how far to push your weight to find both your balance. Another detail, from experience - it can be really scary to have your partner touch parts of you that are necessary to be touched for the technicalities. It took me 30 long and painful minutes doing one move over and over to let my partner hold my waist in the proper spot to pick me up. + The spacial and body awareness (of your own and also your parthers body) you need to have to not accidentally hurt your partner is. Insane. They are doing so well, they mustve trained insanely hard!!

Bagheras balance is way better this performance because of the flat shoes and im so glad about it!! the first outfit was stunning, but the heels made her steps seem unsure. Again gotta say expressions are 50% of the performance - if youre not a nerd like me you wouldnt even notice because the rest of her face and body acting are IMMACULATE

Baghera has solid body acting as well. Her forms arent as well defined and movements a little slouchy at times but, again, you wouldnt fucking know because shes so smooth with it. (also if anyone knows, please let me know if baghera has done dancing in the past! even like a school club or something, i am insane about dancers ok <3)

Christian! His forms! Immaculate! I want to use him to point out key points that make an excellent dancer: a) he is light on his feet, almost looks like hes floating. b) pointing his toes for grace points. c) Active heels (lifted off the ground) for better body control and also grace points. d) Swan arms. Ballet arms. Rounded elbows. Whatever you wanna call em. e) Body control. Every muscle is active every move calculated and backed up by experience. Hot Hot Hot

Using your eyes is important (looking in directions lol), it helps railroad the audiences attention to key elements, set the mood and tell a story. Very needed tool in pair dancing to convince the audience of the dancers relationship (in the story of the performance) (also requires a lot of trust and comfort with your partner because you need to hold prolonged eye contact with them). Also diverts audiences attention from you potentially making mistakes with other parts of your body lol. They do it well <3

MASSIVE kudos to the choreography!!! It was very fun, and you could read a story from it!! Loved the bits of visualising the lyrics!!

[onethousandwords]

My Testimony

I have a tendency to write too much, so I'll do my best to try and give, I dunno, the cliff notes version of this. My journey of faith has been a long one with many hills and valleys (and plateaus), so let's get started.

As a child, my grandma took me to church. But the Gospel message didn't really sink in. My grandma also used to say things (even though I was well-behaved and literally feared her) like if I didn't respect her, I would go to hell. I loved my grandma, but our relationship was complicated. She has passed.

Due to trauma (particularly involving my biological dad) and way too much confidence in my intelligence, I became an atheist from the ages of 13-20.

At 20, I became very lonely, depressed, and felt worthless and meaningless and started researching various religions in an attempt to offset that feeling. I felt kind of pushed out of atheist communities online. No religion really sat right with me. I briefly considered Buddhism because it was compatible with atheism, but even some of the things I'd read about Buddhism didn't really suit my atheistic sensibilities. But I continued to spiral into a dark place.

Eventually, I thought to myself that maybe I hadn't really given the religion of my youth, Christianity, a chance. Maybe a God could exist. But it's a very hard jump from atheism to Christianity. I needed a sign of God's existence. Not a big sign. I said I'd believe God existed if I was given even just a small, circumstantial sign. Not one that would probably convince other atheists but would convince me. I received that sign on Monday after praying once on Saturday and Sunday. Feel free to ask me more about that sign if you wish. It really impressed me; though, it might not impress you.

But even though I believed in God, I didn't really believe in the Bible, and I still wasn't very familiar with the Gospel message.

Long story short, at some point when I was twenty-five, I was sitting in a Christian counselor's office crying because I'd felt an immense amount of guilt and shame for so long, and she guided me through a visualization exercise. I went to my "happy place" - an autumn wood with a path running through the middle of it, and blackberry brambles on the sides. She told me to meet Jesus there and asked me to ask him for forgiveness and what He would say to me.

And in my head, in my happy place, I heard Him. "You're forgiven of all your sins, both the real ones and the imagined ones. I love you, and I will always love you - even when the last star in the sky dies out and beyond that."

And for the first time in my life, I felt a release. I felt the guilt and shame diminish. It didn't fix everything right away, but it set me on the path to healing. I'm still healing.

I hope if you're reading this, you know that Jesus loves you, too. He's waiting for you with open arms, ready to forgive you of every wrong. We all have something we need to be forgiven for. Lies, inaction, bad thoughts, hurting someone's feelings, all of that and more - He'll forgive it all. You just need to go to Him.

[anime-kia]

Lust and Temptation

I know I said that I was on my writing hiatus, but a wave of inspiration hit me. I was in my room jamming to some Kirk Franklin when the idea came to me. Yes you can turn up to gospel, don't @ me. 

This is going to be a religious fanfic (with a bit of blasphemy), if you're not Christian and/or don't believe in God you can still read this story, BUT! Do not leave any comments that would be disrespectful to my beliefs. If you do leave anything disrespectful: Delete and mute :) You are not obligated to read this story, it's your choice. 

And also I'm gonna dive a little more further, beyond what is openly taught. The worldly doctrine as it is called because I'm sure Erik would be that type of guy.

~ Post Black Panther ~

Warnings: Smut (takes a while for it to happen btw), Angst (a bit), A tad of deep stuff (religion wise)

Relationship: Erik x Christian Reader

Sunday morning, you dreaded it as a child, but now it was a lot more tolerable. It was the same thing every week; wake up at ten, use the bathroom, shower, brush your teeth, eat breakfast, get dressed into your Sunday best and head out to church to catch the twelve o'clock service. 

As a child your routine was fairly the same, except you had to wake up much earlier and attend all three services. Why? Because you're the pastors daughter. The only thing you genuinely enjoyed about church was the singing. You always had the ability to sing, but you were too young to join the choir. You loved the Lord with all your heart too, but you hated sitting down for hours listening to your father preach. He had a nice voice, but you could only listen to the same thing for so long. 

The memories of your mother scolding you for fidgeting too much or asking to leave early made a smile grace your face as you drove down the relatively and empty highway. 

It was warm out, and knowing that, the A/C would be blasting so you decided to wear a long sleeve cream coloured blouse that was tucked inside of a long black body con maxi skirt (appropriate enough for church) and black stilettos. You paired the outfit with gold accessories and light makeup.

One of the perks of being the pastors daughter included getting close parking, and you always took your spot on the right side of your father's white Lexus RX. Locking your car door, you made your way to the front doors being held by two young boys that you teach after the singing is completed. 

"Good afternoon, Miss (Y/N)." They both said in unison. 

"Good afternoon boys, how was your vacation?" They were away for two weeks, you remember how happy they were when they told you they'd be traveling out of the country for the first time.

"So fun!" The shorter one missing his two front teeth, Anthony, enthused.

"Yeah, we got to swim in the ocean!" Jacob matched his brother's excitement. 

"Oh really? That's so cool!" 

You allowed them to chat your ears off about their vacation to the Bahamas while they continued to hold the doors. Anthony was about to tell you about the shark he saw until your mother spotted you. 

"Hey, baby. How are you?" The familiar scent of Estée Lauder whiffed through your nose as she pulled you into a hug. 

"Hi Mom, I'm good." You waved to the boys as you walked with her towards the nave, "How's dad?" You greeted the church brothers and sisters who were setting up the equipment and rehearsing before the service started.

"The same, of course." She rolled her eyes and you chuckled.

"There's my star! Come here." Your father came down the stage and gave you a bear hug. 

"Hey, Dad." Your voice was muffled into his shoulder. You took the handkerchief out of his breast pocket and wiped his shiny forehead. "You're sweating." You said and placed it back into the pocket.

"It's a great service. Speaking of which, why did you stop coming to all three? We could really use your voice for all of em. Sister Eva is great, but you know how to get the crowd going."

You thanked him, and avoided answering the question truthfully. 

"(Y/n), let's get you set up." One of the technicians pulled you to the stage and gave you your usual equipment for singing. 

There were about ten minutes before the service was going to start so you quickly rehersed with the band and before you knew it people started filling into the space. Familiar members of the church gathered in, sliding into the seats and making room for others. You spotted a few of your church friends and gave them a little wave.

They would often tease you for being a good girl. The pastor's daughter usually got a bad rep. Them being the ones to do it all; sex, drugs, smoking, tattoos, etc. But you never found the need to do any of that. The only "rebellious" thing you've done was get your nose pierced. Your dad hated it (and he still does), but your mother was a lot more lenient. 

"Good afternoon everyone." You greeted the congregation with a smile, and they replied with a drowsy response. "I said good afternoon, everyone!" You had more enthusiasm in your voice this time, and they also did. "Much better. Now has God been good to you?"

"Yes!"

"And has he provided for you? Loved you unconditionally?"

"Yes!"

"He is great, ain't He?"

"Amen!" Cheers and applauds sounded the room.

"Yes, amen. Now I wanted to start off with an upbeat song. Let's get everyone up on your feet and clap your hands like this."

The congregation stood to their feet and followed your pace of claps. The band started playing their version of Kirk Franklin's, Looking For You. You allowed them to play the intro and then you and the choir joined in.

I've been down so long

I've been hurt for so long

There were times I thought I'd never see the break of day

It was hard for me to see your plan for me

And I tried to believe surely it won't last always

You enjoyed seeing everyone getting in tune with their souls through the music, parents were dancing with babies and children on their hips, little kids were jumping up and down. This was the best song to get everyone moving and ready to celebrate their love for the Lord. It almost caught you off guard when you noticed someone was still seated, it was hard to see him clearly because he was in the far back, but you knew that this was his first time coming to this church. He had a very distinct look, dreads, and a large frame. You thought maybe he was just one of those people who stopped by to hear a few words then leave, but he was dressed in his Sunday best, just like everyone else. He also looked like he had full intentions to stay.

You continued to sing your heart out, hyping the crowd up with reminders of why God is so good, and them replying amen. You danced and let the music flow through your body. Yup, this was the best thing about church.

Your voice was warm and welcoming, your energy was refreshing, your beauty was tranquilizing to him and he wanted to get to know you. He had the right intentions coming into the building, but seeing you lit a spark in him that he tried to suppress. 

The song came to an end, and he hadn't realized. The thunders of applauds and praises pulled him out of his trance, and he soon joined in. 

"Amen. You know what my favourite part about church is? The singing, not only because God blessed me with this voice, but because it touches my soul. Psalms 95:1 says 'Come, let us sing for joy to the LORD; let us shout aloud to the Rock of our salvation'." 

"Amen!"

"Glory be to God, and we lift our hands to you. We sing our praises to you! Every praise, is to you oh Lord." That was the cue for the band to get into the next song, Every Praise. You once again set the tempo for the sways and the congregation followed. 

Every praise is to our God

Every word of worship with one accord

Every praise every praise is to our God

Sing hallelujah to our God

Glory hallelujah is due our God

Every praise every praise is to our God

He decided to sit still, but tapped his feet to the beat of the song, his hands folded in his lap. He was so enamoured by you, that he hadn't noticed when a little girl rested her hands onto his knee. He looked down at the brown skinned baby, no older than two he assumed. She had two little puffs secured with bow clips, and a pink and white dress with matching shoes. She pushed herself off of his knee and smiled at him, her little hand waving to him. He smiled at her until she was pulled away.

"Sorry about that." A younger looking lady said, "My baby likes to meet everyone." She was a beautiful lady with dark skin, coily tresses fixed into a puff and pearly white teeth. 

"No problem." He simply replied with the same smile he gave the little girl. 

When she returned to her spot, which was only a seat away from him, he noticed that she wasn't with a man. He predicted that she was a young single mother, and he could tell she was somewhat stressed out. His training gave him the ability to read people with ease, and his past self had a knack for "fixing" stressed out women. He was so close to getting out of his seat and reverting back to his old ways, but that was why he was here in the first place so he decided to stay seated and listen to your voice.

"I have another verse for y'all. Ephesians 5:19, 'Speaking to one another with psalms, hymns, and songs from the Spirit. Sing and make music from your heart to the Lord'." You recited. "I have one more song before I let my father take over. This one always gets me emotional." The band once again started up with a softer melody. "Everyone just lift your hearts and voices as you sing with me."

The graceful rhythm of Healer flowed through the room and everyone calmed down, getting in tune with themselves and their saviour, you included.

You hold my every moment 

You calm my raging seas 

You walk with me through fireand heal all my disease 

You closed your eyes while singing, swaying to the beat. The choir handled majority of the song while you let it resonate in your heart. You could feel tears welling into your eyes.

Nothing is impossible for You

Nothing is impossible

Nothing is impossible for You

You hold my world in Your hands

He could feel the depth in your voice, the emotion wrapped around him, he was almost driven to tears. He had never seen anything so beautiful, so dedicated, so pure and loving. Your voice was more than enough proof for him. He was a sinner and he knew he would corrupt you, but you were like a lure, pulling him in.

"Amen!" Your voice called out, as the song came to a close. He was surprised that your voice sounded so normal, not a crack present. Had you not said anything, anyone would've been convinced that you were crying, but your voice had masked that very well. "Thank you everyone, thank you." Applauds filled the room, he was surprised to find himself clapping as well. You walked off the stage, your father giving you another hug just before you got to your seat.

"Amen indeed," He began. "My daughter everyone!" He clapped and the congregation joined in again. You smiled as your mother kissed your temple, stating how beautiful you sounded. It always felt good, not the applauds and recognition from everyone, but being able to use your talent to praise God and to be able to allow people to do the same whether they could sing or not.

Today's lesson was about forgiveness and acceptance. 

"Now I want y'all to think. And think real good." Your father eyed the crowd, "Are y'all holding a grudge against someone?"

Some folks shook their heads, others remained silent. He was one of them who remained silent.

"Why? Maybe they've wronged you, hurt you, lied on you, stole from you. But you know what, you know who doesn't hold a grudge... The Father. In fact, He loves you all so much that He sent His only son to die on the cross for all of our sins. Imagine that." 

He listened carefully to the pastors words, taking in everything like a sponge. You on the other hand had this speech given to you a thousand times, you could probably teach this lesson if you wanted to. Holding grudges was not natural to you, so you never did. You always forgave and forgot, no matter the circumstance. 

Usually you were sent off to teach the younger kids their own lesson, but another one of the members allowed you to take this Sunday off and took your place instead.

The lesson continued for an hour and church had finally started coming to it's end.

"I would like to close this off with a prayer before you all leave. Anyone who needs a special prayer is more than welcome to stay behind. Please join your hands together as we say this prayer."

He was hesitant to hold hands with any stranger, but an old lady (with a surprisingly strong grip) to his left and the single mother to his right held his hands and already had their heads bowed. He followed suit and listened to the prayer that the pastor had recited.

"I pray you all have a blessed week, and we'll see you again next Sunday."

You were required to stay behind, not that you minded, but you were apart of the church crew. Leaving so soon would seem inappropriate. 

A few people made their way down to the front to receive an extra prayer, he was going to leave, but he saw you standing off to the side waiting for anyone to come by. 

Of course he wasn't nervous to greet you, women were so easy when it came to him.

"Bye, Sister Mary. See you next Sunday." You waved to the older lady as she made her way out, smiling at him as he made his way over to you. 

He stood in front of you, towering over you.

"Hello." You greeted him. This was the same man you saw seated when you first opened the service. 

"Hey." He replied with a smirk.

"What's your name, stranger?"

"Erik."

"I'm (y/n), nice to meet you. I don't think I've ever seen you in this church before."

"Nah, I'm new. It's actually my first day here."

"Oh lovely, so I guess you're going to be joining us from now on?"

He was very hesitant to reply and you had already figured out he was one of the lost as our father would describe them. People trying to find God again after hardship. He did look quite rough on the edges, handsome though.

"That's alright, but I do hope you consider. Now what type of blessings are you in need of today?"

"I'm looking for peace." His voice was very gentle as he explained.

You held your hands out to Erik, "Aren't we all." You smiled at him as he placed his calloused hands into yours. This alone told you he's been through more than you could ever imagine. You began to pray for him, asking God to bring peace and security to his heart. 

Like your singing, there was so much passion and sincerity in every word you spoke. He found it strange that someone he'd never met before could actually lend out their time to wish him all the best through the form of prayer. It was odd, the feeling in his heart was warm. Not something he was use to.

"Erik?" He was staring so deeply at you, it was like he was in a trance. "Erik?" You called again. 

He hadn't realized when you stopped praying, "Oh shi- I mean shoot. Sorry." He let go of your hands as he apologized.

You gave him a sympathetic smile, "It's all good."

He was at a loss for words, all he could say was, "Thanks for this."

"Of course, I'm here every Sunday. I hope to see you again."

"Yeah."

Next Sunday rolled around and you were a lot more excited this time. You really hoped that Erik would be there. On the highway you exceeded the speed limit just a little bit to get to church faster. You parked your car and got into the church, this time no one was holding the door as you were a lot earlier. 

Everything followed suit as usual, you sing, your father preaches and closing prayer. You had spotted Erik while singing, this time he was standing up and clapping. It was a good start, he'd get to singing eventually.

This week he had asked you to pray for healing and restoration in his heart. Before leaving, you gave him a hug and you were quite surprised when your palm touched his back. You felt ridges, lot's of them. You wanted to ask him about them, but it would probably be rude. Maybe he had a skin condition.

The following Sunday was also the same, but this time he had asked you to pray for guidance. You knew he was lost, and you were more than happy to help. You didn't know, however, about the burden he was carrying, nor did you try to pry into that. After the prayer he thanked you.

Suddenly your mother and father came over to greet you both.

"Hey Mom, Dad. This is Erik."

"Lovely to meet you, Erik." Your mother shook his hand.

"Welcome to the church. You must be new." Your father also shook his hand.

"Yeah, it's his third time here." He nodded as you spoke for him.

"Glad to have a new member." He patted Erik on the shoulder. "(Y/n), are you coming over for dinner tonight?"

"Yes, I just gotta grab something at my place and I'll see you there."

"Alright, we're heading out now. Drive safe. Once again, nice to meet you Erik." Your parents waved to you both as they left the church.

You sighed, "I hate closing up this place, it's so eerie in the dark."

"For real?"

"Yup."

"The Lord's house?"

"Yes, Erik."

"How God suppose to give you bad vibes?"

"He doesn't, it's just my mind running rampant... Plus, this church is really old."

"Aight, I can stay and protect you just in case." He joked.

You rolled your eyes and agreed anyway. "I gotta do the basement first."

So he followed you down to where the bathrooms and meeting rooms were located.

"I guess I could give you a little t-" You turned around, but he wasn't there. "Erik?!" You called out. "Erik, come on this ain't funny." The light shut off and you were alone in the dark. You screamed when you felt a hand land on your shoulder. You slapped the hand away and the lights came back on revealing a laughing Erik. "So. Not. Funny."

"I'm sorry." He continued to laugh.

Two months had passed and this Sunday followed the same, but when closing prayer rolled around Erik had prayed for a date.

"What do you mean a date?" You giggled at his request. "I'm gonna need you to be more specific." 

"Exactly that, a date. With you."

You were taken aback by his statement, but then smiled. "What will this date consist of?"

"Anything you want."

One thing you learned about Erik with knowing so little about him was his bold and cocky demeanour.

"Alright... Hmm..." You thought of how you would play along with his request. "Oh Lord, I pray that Erik takes me somewhere nice, with good food and good music. I also pray that this may not turn out to be a bad experience, in your holy name, amen." 

He loved to see your laugh, "So that's a yes?"

"Yes."

Your parents had left early again and you were subject to Erik's pranks and duty of closing up. After locking the church, he walked you to your car as you entered your number into his phone.

"So I'll pick you up on Friday at six?" 

"Yeah, see you then Erik." He locked your door for you and strode off to his car as you drove away. 

Erik was really hoping that he wouldn't screw anything up. You could be his redemption and he truly felt it. Sure he'd only known you for such a short time, but something about your presence felt so promising to him. 

It was five p.m. and you just got out of the shower when you had called Erik.

"Ya know, you still haven't told me where you're taking me." 

"Don't worry about it, ma."

"But I don't know what to wear."

"Just dress good."

You frowned at the general answer, "That could mean anything. I have good pyjamas, good gym clothes, good church clothes."

You could hear him sigh on the other line, "We're going on a date. Wear something sexy then."

You blushed at his comment, "Wha- Fine."

"Just don't take forever, aight."

"Okay, Erik see you soon."

"Later, princess."

Before you could ask him about his pet name for you, the line went dead.

Your black Persian cat, Minnie, hopped onto your bed and meowed at you. Her name was quite ironic because her fur gave her a large appearance. 

"What's up, Minnie? You hungry?" 

She rolled onto her back and meowed again. 

"Alright, lemme just finish getting ready then I got you, okay." You rubbed her stomach, (luckily she doesn't mind that) and went into your closet looking for the perfect outfit.

Something sexy...

You never thought about dressing "sexy". You didn't have bad style, but you never wore anything to attract attention. Your outfits were mainly business casual or business dressy when you were out. At home, you settled for something comfy.

But remembered your sister taking you shopping when she set you up for all those blind dates. None of the men you met were intriguing in the slightest. They all had their quirks and nicks that were huge turn offs. You weren't stuck up, but you could not see yourself spending the next fifty years with them. Erik though, had something enticing about him. He made you curious.

You decided to go for blind date outfit number two. A high-low dress with a white polyester satin top and royal blue mesh bottoms, silver accessories, light makeup and white stilettos. You slipped into the dress, zipping it up and adjusted the bottom. 

You thought about what food you were going to order as you filled up Minnie's food bowl with wet food, salmon to be exact, her favourite. If he was one of those cheap men, he'd take you to McDonalds. You were told to be grateful in any case, so you would order a combo. But maybe you were lucky enough to be going on a date with someone who has a decent bank account. Maybe he'd take you to a restaurant where you could order pasta or a fancy fish. Maybe a hibachi grill! Those were always a ton of fun to go to. 

Though Erik and you have known each other for two months strictly because of church, you didn't know anything about him. Once again, he never failed to remind you of how mysterious he was. He could be a killer for all you know.

You stroked Minnie's back as she quickly ate her dinner. 

"Maybe I could order the same thing Mom and Dad made me the last time I was over there." They had made grilled steak and potatoes, it was delicious. Your mother was actually a queen on the grill, and your father tagged in with the perfect seasonings. You always ate good with them. While you daydreamed about consuming their cooking, your father's words replayed through your head. 

"I dunno, I feel like I've seen him before. Like he just seems so familiar."

"How so?"

"I'm not sure, the name... Also, when I touched his shoulder I felt these bumps, it reminded me of something, but I'm not so sure."

"Maybe it's a coincidence." 

"Maybe..."

The raps against your door brought you out of your thoughts and you went over to go open it. There Erik stood in a black semi casual suit and black Louis Vuitton loafers.

"Hey, Princess."

"Hey, Erik." You gave him a hug getting a whiff of a cologne that was very subtle, but you already knew it was very expensive. You recall smelling it in a high end store at the mall.

"You smell good." He said. What he was smelling was your body mist from Victoria's Secret, you got it on sale for five dollars.

"Thanks, I should be saying the same to you."

"You look sexy too."

"Ah thanks." You stopped yourself knowing where he was going.

"What, you ain't gonna say the same to me?"

"I mean, I guess you look alright." You teased.

He kissed his teeth and shook his head and you laughed. 

"Bye, Minnie. I'll be back later." You locked the door and latched arms with Erik as he guided you down the steps to his car. "Oh my gosh, this is your ride?" You exclaimed, charmed by the shiny black Corvette.  

"One of." He plainly stated, opening the passengers side for you.

"One of?!"

"Hop in." He ignored your question for clarification. You got in and he locked the door, making his way around to the driver's side. He wasted no time taking off into the night. The sky was shaded with a warm orange colour as the sun began to sink below the Oakland skyline. His music was a lot lower than you had originally expected.

You could faintly hear the tune and lyrics, it was a Biggie Smalls song that you've heard throughout high school. You hummed to the beat of the song until it completely stopped.

"Hey, it was low enough." You frowned at Erik. 

"Why don't you sing for me instead?" His focus was still on the road.

"Well, I usually like to have a beat playing."

"You don't do A Capella?" 

"Only when I'm at home."

"So you ain't tryna sing a lil something for me?" He turned to look at now that he was at a stop light.

"Only if I can get a beat."

"I don't beat box."

You rolled your eyes, "I wasn't asking you to do it. Do you have an aux cord?"

He laughed, "Aux cord?" 

"What's so funny about that?" You narrowed your eyes at him. 

"Just connect it to my bluetooth."

"Oh alright, Mr. Fancy." You held your hands up in a surrender. 

After setting it up, which was surprisingly really fast compared to your car, you chose to play another one of your favourite Kirk Franklin songs, I Smile. 

Today's a new day, but there is no sunshine

Nothing but clouds, and it's dark in my heart

And it feels like a cold night

Today's a new day, but where are my blue skies

Where is the love and the joy that you promised me?

Not even a minute through the song and this man had turned the radio off.

"Erik!" 

"You singing that gospel shit, it ain't even Sunday."

"I'm not a Sunday Christian, I practice it every day of my life."

He laughed, and began driving as the light changed to green. "You're the first."

"What do you mean?" 

"You know, I always thought this religious thing was bullshit."

"Excuse m-"

"Hold on, let me explain." He held his hand up, "You even admitted it just now. Y'all go to church every Sunday, belting your hearts out and praising God. But as soon as it's over, people go back to their sinful ways. Whether it be cheating, lying, stealing, ya get what I'm saying?"

It's true, it has definitely crossed your mind on multiple occasions, and that's why you said what you said. "I do."

"What's the point if you're just gonna go back to being a sinful person?"

"I guess it just gives them some type of security." You didn't exactly know how to answer his question, and you've asked your father the same thing many times, but even he could not come up with the perfect explanation. 

"Anyway, what else you got on your phone?" 

"Mainly just gospel, it really gets me through the day."

"You was just humming to Biggie. I'm sure you got something other than gospel, let me see." He held his palm out for you to place your phone in it. 

"You're driving, focus on the road."

"The light's gonna change, let me see it." He slowed to a stop.

"Fine." You placed the phone into his hands and scanned for songs other than gospel. His sudden laughter made you stare at him, "What's so funny?"

"Clean, clean, clean. All these songs got the little clean icon." He handed you your phone, "Aight, I'm firing you from DJ duty."

"Wooowwww." You rolled your eyes and folded your arms across your chest.

"I got you." He lifted his phone and scrolled through his list, you alerted him when the light turned green and he set his phone back down in the cup holder. "You got this one on ya phone."

T-Pain's, Bartender filled the car and you were a little surprised. You really thought he was gonna chose a song that was loaded with cursing and sexual innuendos. But you didn't have songs like that on your phone. Honestly, you lived for the early 2000s throwback songs and you felt your voice complimented T-Pain's as you sang along.

Erik handled the verses as you sand the pre-hook and the hook. The bass in his car was amazing, you felt as if you were at a live concert seated in front of the speakers. You continued to listen to his early 2000s playlist until he decided to change it up to more recent songs. 

"Please don't play those new artists."

"Artists? They ain't artists, they fuckin' trash. Disgraceful to even call themselves rappers." He scoffed.

"I'm glad you agree, but do you have to swear?"

"Fuck yeah." He set his phone back down and a song you were unfamiliar with filled the car, "Neighbor, Juicy J and Travis Scott." He told you. You knew Travis, his songs were pretty good.

You were bopping to the music, ignoring the little "Shut the fuck up" at the beginning. Erik was vibing to the song as well, bopping his head and doing little dances with his hands. You were enjoying the song until the chorus came. He was looking at you the whole time with a smirk.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck

Your mouth was ajar, watching him recite every single word. He bursted out laughing at your shocked expression. 

"Damn shorty, it ain't that serious." He turned the volume down, "You telling me you've never cussed?"

"No, never."

Your expressions changed, his mouth was now ajar this time. "Never?"

"Never."

"Say, sofa."

You stared at him suspiciously. "Sofa."

"Now say, king."

"King."

"Say it together real fast."

"Sofa k- Really?" You glared at him.

"I tried. Anyway, we're here." He hopped out and came around to the other side to get you.

"This place is beautiful, oh my gosh. I thought you needed to make reservations some months ahead to get in." You gawked at the super high ceiling with crystal chandeliers, the marble walls and floors, and the large gold fountain placed right in the centre. "How'd you do it?"

He simply shrugged.

"You're taking this very lightly. I mean, this is a lot for a first date."

"You don't like it?"

"No, no. I love it, it's just, a lot to take in and you're acting like this is normal."

"It is." He shrugged again.

"What?" You stared at him incredulously. 

A waiter arrived at the table, placing a basket of bread and fancy cheese platter on the table.

"Good evening, can I start you both off with some drinks?" 

"Lemme get your best bottle of Rosé. The whole thing."  

Erik hadn't even looked at the menu and you were searching through it quickly. The waiter had already gone off and you didn't have a chance state that you only wanted a glass of water.

"I don't drink." You told Erik.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't care to."

"You never had a little sip?"

"Nope, never. Just like swearing. Never done it, never will."

"Say sofa-"

"Be quiet." You cut him off and he chuckled.

"Ya know, Jesus turned water into wine. John 2:1-11. The bible ain't against drinking."

"So?"

"So, he wasn't afraid to have fun. We talking about God's son. That man had serious responsibility, but he still did that. You need to loosen up, girl. I ain't asking you to get drunk."

You sighed, and the waiter had returned with a bottle of the Rosé. He poured you a glass and asked if you both needed some time to order, but Erik had already placed his order and yours. 

"Wha- I don't even know what you just ordered." 

"You'll like it, I promise."

Goes to show how often he comes here, maybe with other women too.

"So this is the part where you tell me about yourself." You began.

"Well shit, what do you wanna know?"

"Well first of all, what in the world do you do?"

"I work for a Wakandan outreach centre in Oakland. Helping our people do better with the fucked up system."

"Oh that's pretty cool, it pays well?"

"Well if you're trying to ask how I can afford everything I got, I also work beside the King of Wakanda. His advisor to be exact. So I get my money like that."

You stared at him puzzled, "Huh?" 

He smirked, "I guess you can say I'm royalty. That dude I called King, he's my cousin."

You almost choked on the bread that you just took a bite out of, "WHAT?"

The white people turned around to look at the source of the sound, their noses scrunched up at your vulgar outburst as Erik laughed.

"You know Erik, lying lips are an abomination to the Lord. Proverbs 12:22." 

"Who said I was lying?"

The waiter had come back with two steaming plates that were covered by a cloche. As he raised the silver metal covering, steam smoked out from the sides revealing two plates of alligot and garlic roasted chicken sliced into perfect pieces with truffles and caviar. You've heard of alligot once on a YouTube video, but you hadn't planned on trying it.

You both thanked him as he left you two to finish off your meal.

"So, what do you do?" He used the knife to cut the chicken breast into a smaller piece before putting it into his mouth.

"Well, I'm a full time social worker at a high school and part time singer and youth teacher on Sunday's. But you already knew that." You said while scooping the cheesy potato onto your fork.

"Maybe you could come talk to some of the kids at the centre. Teach em a bit."

"I could, but I'd have to find somewhere in my schedule to fit it."

"We're always open and willing to get more people on our team. Just let me know."

"For sure." 

You both ate in relative silence, only because you were still staring at the rose coloured drink resting to the right side of your plate. Erik had already finished half of his glass. You told him, maybe you'd opt out because surely he can't drink and drive home, but he assured you his alcohol tolerance was very high. It was a little insipid how high it was a matter of fact.

"It won't kill you, just think of it as pink lemonade."

You narrowed your eyes as you brought the glass to your lips, allowing the liquid to enter your mouth.

"Swallow it."

And you did. It actually wasn't as bad as you expected it to be. 

"See, how was that?"

"Not bad." You actually really enjoyed the taste.

The rest of your night consisted of questions and answers, jokes, serious debates on religion, politics and what the hell was going on within the black community, internally and externally. You had downed three glasses of the Rosé without noticing. 

"So, would you date a white girl?" You asked him.

He didn't even spare a second to think, "Nah."

"Why not? Don't black men love them?"

"I mean, they aight. But I need someone who I can really connect with. Mentally, spiritually, emotionally and physically. No white girl can truly understand the struggle, I need me a lady to not only sympathize when I'm crying for one of my brothers murdered unjustly, but to feel exactly what I'm feeling."

"I say that too. Relating is super important in a relationship. There's no way I can be silent just because you don't want to hear about the things we deal with. I use to be friends with this white girl, back in 2016 when police brutality was at a high. She did not have a single care when I was speaking about it, she would find excuses for the police... She really tried to justify their actions. I was appalled."

Erik shook his head, "Damn. But that's to be expected. If it ain't affecting them, why should they give a fuck?" He rhetorically asked.

"I would then ask God, why. Why us? Why black people? Why do we carry the burden and the struggle."

Erik leaned in, intrigued by your question. "Did you find the answer?"

"It's all in the bible. A lot of people miss it, a lot. My father included and it's so sad."

Erik had already asked God the same question. He knew the answer.

"It's all right there, the verses, the scriptures. Everything. You should check out Romans 10:19."

Erik had already started siting the verse, "I will make you envious by those who are not a nation; I will make you angry by a nation that has no understanding." He shook his head, "When you know your true identity, you become unstoppable."

You stared at him in shock, "You know?"

"We're a lot alike, (y/n). Trust me, I've asked that question countless times." His grip on the neck of the glass was tight, "Not necessarily as a whole, but 'why me?' Why do I have to be the stereotype, why do I have to be the black parentless, foster-care kid, why couldn't I grow up like a normal child. Two parents, maybe some siblings. Hell, a dog too."

"What do you mean?"

"I lost both my parents at a young age, barely knew my mom. My dad was murdered by his own people..." You tried to look into his eyes, but they seemed so distant as he continued to explain the story.

"I'm so sorry, Erik."

"Nah, it's all good now. My life was shit, but like you sang back at church, that Kirk Franklin song."

"Looking for you?"

"Yeah, the beginning part."

"I'm glad my singing got to you." You smiled at him. You're not sure when it happened, but your hand had found his and your thumb rubbed over his knuckles. He lifted your hand up and pressed it against his lips.

"How you get drunk off of Rosé?" He shook his head with a judgemental look on his face.

"I'm not." You weren't totally drunk, just a bit.

The drive to his place was rather quick, you were already making it into his gated home. It was a little hard to make out what the place looked like in the dark, it was almost as if he made it incognito. Not a single light was on. As he unlocked the high tech door, a wave of cold air slapped your bare arms making you shiver. 

"Why does it feel like Antartica in here?" 

"It's just how I like it." He closed the door and put the lock back on.

"No way." You held your arms as you shivered, but he placed his very hot blazer over your shoulders. Okay, so now you understood why he kept his place so cold. The man generated heat like an oven. You were instantly warmed up.

"Lights on, main floor." He spoke to no one in particular, or so you thought until a robotic female voice recited his command and lights began turning on. 

"Whoa, is this one of those smart homes?"

"Kinda. It just got vibranium and Wakandan technology."

"Seriously?" 

"I did tell you the King is my cousin." He began walking into another room.

"Hold up!" You caught up to him. 

You were now in his kitchen that connected to his living room. His style was very modern and sleek. It was so clean that not a single spot of dust was visible to the naked eye. He had many African artworks and artifacts around the room and a gigantic map of the world with little red pushpins located in different spots. 

"Hey Erik?"

"Hmm?" He was taking a shot of something with a golden brown colour.

"What's up with this map?"

He swallowed the liquid and made his way over to you. "It's for every place I been."

"Cuz you were in the military right?"

"Yup."

Then the thought came to your head, "Hey, Erik?"

"Wassup?"

"Have you ever um..." Don't ask questions you don't want the answer to, "Actually, never mind."

"Aight." 

You sat down on his large sectional sofa and released your curls from your hair tie. It felt just as good as taking off your bra, but of course you couldn't do that at the moment. Then another thought came to you, but Erik had already seated himself beside you with a bottle of Hennessy in his hands, placing it down on the glass table. 

"More alcohol?" You've heard about Hennessy before, but you knew nothing about it.

"Yeah." He simply stated and turned on the TV.

"Can I get some?"

He looked at you funny, "Of what? That?" He pointed to the bottle.

"Yes."

"So you a drinker now?"

"It won't kill me." You restated what he said.

"Aight, look for a movie." He got up from the couch and went back into his kitchen to get you a glass.

You scrolled through the vast selection, you weren't sure what to watch. Anything but horror, you didn't want to invite anymore demons into the world. He came back before you could find anything.

"Just pick one." He said while filling your glass.

"There's too many to choose from. Why don't you do it?"

"Cuz, you're the guest and you won't like what I pick."

"How do you know what I like and don't like?"

"I got a pretty good understanding, ma. Now choose one."

You sighed and settled for one that looked decent, appropriate too.  You took a sip of the drink, your face scowling at the taste. "Oh my- You like this?"

"Mhm." He responded while taking a few more shots. You sucked it up and drank the rest, you didn't want to waste his booze anyway. 

By the thirty minute mark of the movie, your head found its way onto Erik's lap. The drink had sucker punched you, but you tried play it off. Erik was still unfazed, barely watching the movie. His attention was mainly on his phone.

A new sensation sparked your lower half, something you've briefly felt before, but suppressed it knowing exactly what it was. This time though, it came in all at once with a full force. It was an itch that needed to go away.  

You've heard about alcohol being an aphrodisiac before... Uh oh.

You compressed your thighs together relieving it for a few seconds, but it felt as though it intensified and Erik noticed you shifting. 

"You good?" He asked. His voice was so soft and enticing, calling you forward. You raised your head out of his lap and straddled him. "Whoa..."

"Erik..." Your voice came out very relaxed.

"Aye, you go-"

Your lips found their way onto his, stunning both of you in the process. You were kissing him so deeply without the intent of letting go. It was a sloppy kiss, truthfully, as you've never kissed another man before.

You had him on his back as you began undressing yourself down to only your matching pair of bra and panties.

"Baby girl, whatchu doing?"

"I'm tired of being the good girl, Erik. It's so boring." You whined to him.

Erik felt his dick twitch at the lust in your voice and eyes, he could feel his old self coming back quickly. He should've known better than to be drinking, but it was a rough week. 

You leaned in and met him with another kiss, this time he was the dominant one. You helped him out of his button up, your hands now coming in contact with the bumps that you felt back at church. Had you not been so wasted, you would've reacted, but that was the last thing on your mind. 

He was out of his pants before you knew it, and you were on your back. He kissed down your neck, making sure to leave love bites on you. He trailed all the way to your stomach, right down to the band of your blue lace panties. His fingers slid under the band yanking them further down till they were off completely. 

"Damn, ma." He ran his finger up and down your wet folds before inserting it.

"Uhh." You moaned at the intrusion. 

His tongue soon found it's way onto your clit as well. You moaned and thrashed as he continued to assault your womanhood. He made sure to hold you down as he ate you out. He was an expert, despite this being your first time, you could tell he was really skilled. He lifted your leg over his shoulder and stuck another finger into you. You hands found their way into his dreads and you gripped tightly, he hissed at your action.

"Ohhhh." You moaned aloud.

"You like this, mama?" 

"Nngh, yes!" 

The feeling in your core intensified until you could no longer hold it and you released without warning, a plethora of moans falling from your lips.

"Damn baby, you ain't warn me."

"Mmh, I'm sorry."

"Nah," He sat up. "Sorry ain't gonna cut it." 

He pulled off his boxers and climbed over top of your shaking frame. He took the tip of the penis and rubbed it along the outside of you, coating it in your wetness. You shivered at his touch.

He had one hand by your ear and the other on his member, guiding it into you. The stretch was unbelievable, your hands gripped his arms tightly. 

"Fuck, this pussy so tight." 

"Oh, unnghh."

"That's it, just a little more." He continued to slide into you, and you tried your best to ignore any pain you were feeling, but that was almost impossible. His gold chain that you hadn't noticed before dangled over your head, it had a ring attached to it.

He thrusted into you, not checking if you were alright. All you could feel was pain and little spurts of pleasure here and there.

"Mmh, oh. I-it's too much!" You groaned.

"I know you can take it, come on girl." 

He was definitely curing your itch, but that same feeling was welling into your core once again. You placed your hand on the lower half of his abdomen and begged for him not to go any deeper.

"Mhh-mmh. That's it, that's it." You continuously chanted as he continued thrusting. 

He pulled out and had you go on all fours, you were a shaking mess. He dived right back into you pumping at a steady pace. 

You cried out his name. "Erik, ohhhh fffff-" It was so overstimulating that you almost cursed. 

"Was that a bad word?" He spanked your ass.

"Ah! Noooo." You sighed.

"Come on, say it. I dare you."

"Mmh-mmh." You shook your head slightly.

He picked up the pace and your moans turned into screams as he brushed your cervix. Your toes curled tightly.

"Ahhhh, s-slow d-down unnghhh!" You could swear you were seeing stars as he hammered you into the sofa. 

"Ahhh shit." He sped up even faster. Your high was at it's peak now.

"Fuck!" You screamed out, not even realizing it, but a string of curse words followed. You couldn't stop yourself as you released onto his cock with a scream.

He pulled out and released onto your back as you collapse, blanked out without a care in the world.

The next morning, you felt something warm and wet on your shoulder.

"Minnie, stop. That tickles." You pushed the culprit away, but your hand retracted as soon as you felt human skin and kinky hair. You shot up and stared down at him. Regret instantly clouded your heart, and nausea filled your stomach. 

It wasn't a sinful dream... You had lost your virginity so a man you had barely known. Something you promised to keep to yourself until marriage.

"Get away from me." You pushed him away as tears streamed down your face. You scooted back so far and almost fell off of his king sized bed in the process.

"(Y/n), it's just me." 

"N-no, oh my gosh. Please tell me I was dreaming?" You held your head in your palms. You knew it was real, seeing that you were wearing one of his shirts, your curls were a hot mess, and you woke up in his bed. Not to mention the ache in between your legs.

"You good, ma?" 

"No, Erik! I'm not 'good'! I'm terrible." 

"Did I go too hard?" He asked without shame.

"That's not the issue, Erik! We had sex, right?"

"Yeah, it was great."

You sighed, collapsing your head into your lap. "I'm a sinner. I can't- I-"

"What's that suppose to mean?"

Your tears rolled off your cheeks landing onto the bed sheets, "You took my virginity, Erik."

"Oh shit..."

"I was saving it. Sex before marriage... Why would I do that? Ugh!"

" We were both drunk. It's not that serious, (y/n)." 

"Of course it is!" You snapped at him. "We barely even know each other... This is my first time seeing you outside of church."

He was silent as he watched your tears of regret fall.

"I gave in to one of the cardinal sins... God must be so disgusted with me." You sighed, "Hebrews 13:4, Marriage should be honored by all, and the marriage bed kept pure, for God will judge the adulterer and all the sexually immoral."

"Hold up, you talking about lust, right?" He finally spoke up.

"Yeah." You answered with a sniffle. 

"Ain't you the one who told me about forgiveness. Redemption. All that shit." 

You looked at him a little puzzled.

"You really think you a bad person for fucking?" He took off his shirt, "You know what these bumps are? They each represent a kill."

Your eyes widened as your hand covered your mouth.

"Thou shalt not kill, one of the Ten Commandments. I disobeyed that one, each scar on my body reminding me. You know what's the sad thing about it, I don't regret any of them. I did what I had to do, that's the path I chose." He scoffed, "You worried about sex, I got blood on my hands, baby. Shit, I don't even know if I can be saved."

You had to register a lot, it was all so overwhelming. You had given in to temptation and had sex with a man you only knew so much about, not to mention he's a killer... But then it hit you.

"W-wait... Don't tell me that you're K-Killmoger..."

"Surprise." He said unenthusiastically, his eyes had glossed over at some point, but you missed it. 

It felt as if the weight of the world came crashing down on your shoulders. You weren't sure if you should run away, leave or stay. 

Surprisingly, you found yourself cradling his head in your lap. You both remained silent and let the moment register.

"John 1:9, If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness." He said while your fingers ran against his scalp.

You decided not to sing this Sunday, as it would feel hypocritical to be teaching these people what it means to be a good Christian through songs. Throughout the service, you hadn't seen Erik. He was kind enough to drop you back at your place the night before, but he took off in a hurry.

"(Y/n), you're not praying for anyone today?" Your father asked as he waved a few sisters goodbye.

"Actually, I needed a prayer for myself. And also with Erik in mind."

"Sure, what about?"

"Forgiveness of sin and restoration."

The look he gave you was quizzical, "Alright."

As your father prayed, Erik watched from a distance. He could feel your father's words in his heart without actually hearing anything. He knew that he was no good for you. You were just a church girl doing the right thing, while he was still trying to figure it out.

He was your temptation and you were his.

Okay, so this has been my longest one-shot with 9000+. I hope you enjoyed!

(Start/Finish: November 7-8, 2018)

[divine-knight-hand]

Rant below the cut!

I just saw a video on TikTok where a woman was claiming that maladaptive daydreaming was a sin, and can I just say, how dare you?

Personal attack and hurt feelings aside, how dare you take it upon yourself to condemn a group that you couldn’t possibly relate to?

She argued that, not only was maladaptive daydreaming a form of idolatry, but choosing not to do anything about it and accepting defeat was a personal affront to God.

As a Christian, yes, I agree, maladaptive daydreaming sucks. It can be controlling, and it can put a strain on my relationship with my God, but have you considered that some a lot of us don’t have a choice?

Maladaptive daydreaming is a mental disorder. Yeah, I said it. It took a long time for me to accept that myself, but it is. And, guess what? I did try to quit. I tried to quit and it worked! I managed to quit cold turkey and stopped maladaptive daydreaming for a whole week. And then, I fell into a depression. I cried myself to sleep every night and begged God, “Please, take this away. I don’t believe I can fight this alone. I need you.”

And His response pretty much equated to, “If you want to leave this behind, you need to fight it on your own.” I’m only human, so of course I failed and it dragged me right back under.

Did I pick the choice He would have wanted me to? Of course not! Is it possible that maladaptive daydreaming could be considered a sin? Sure, I’ll even entertain that idea. But, it is NEVER okay to look down your nose at someone who is clearly having a tougher time than you.

Just as you shouldn’t take it upon yourself to condemn someone with an addiction, you shouldn’t take it upon yourself to condemn someone with a mental disorder. But, that’s the thing with you “Christians”, it’s always “love thy neighbor” until they have different beliefs, ideas, or lives than you. That ideology is fake as fuck, and it’s what made me skeptical of the religion in the first place.

If God sends me to Hell for maladaptive daydreaming, then that would prove that He never loved me at all. But, that’s not what I know to be the truth.

The God I believe in does not hold exceptions. He’s merciful, and He loves all, regardless of their paths of life, and hurts for the decisions we make that end up harming ourselves. He’s not going to condemn any maladaptive daydreamers for struggling in the uphill battle, or even giving up. He’ll hurt for us, yeah, but not send us to Hell.

And, to my fellow maladaptive daydreamers who might have had any “Christians” in their own lives try to guilt trip them out of maladaptive daydreaming, your life is yours alone to judge (and change, if you so choose). Take each day at your own pace, and if you choose to fight it, good on you. But, if not, you won’t face eternal damnation for succumbing to something you’re struggling to face.

And, since the woman in her video chose to use a bible verse in her video, I’d like to contribute one of my own: “The one without sin among you should be the first to throw a stone at her.”‭ -John‬ ‭8‬:‭7‬ ‭CSB‬‬

Remember that story? Yeah, let’s not analyze the flaws of others under a microscope before we dare to take a look at our own.

Rant over!