#Ill go to my closet and pray

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Applying to an apartment with little income and terrible credit score, in hopes that they'll be desperate enough to take me

[husberttee]

The prospect of leaving for a year abroad in a little over a week with my mental state being the way it is these days is actually terrifying

[cxrdycxps]

God’s Favorite/Devil’s Choice • Ellie Williams

☢️ religious trauma • child abuse (emotional and physical • mental illness • physical illness • emotional trauma • death ☢️

Main Masterlist • Ellie Williams Masterlist

“Momma?” You asked quietly, watching out the window at the back yard. The winter had hit Jackson hard which left the entirety of the town covered in snow and frost. It looked like someone had forgotten to draw in the details of real life.

“Yes, Baby?” Your mother hummed from her spot in the living room, feet up on the coffee table and book in her hand.

You looked down at the water your hands were in and the dishes you had just washed from dinner. You weren’t sure if you should ask but the question was eating you up inside. “Was all that really true?”

“All what, Baby?” Your mother asked. You released the water from the sink and clambered down from the chair you stood on carefully. You returned the chair to the dining table and moved slowly towards the living room, half hiding in the doorway.

“Am I really going to hell?” You asked her softly and she chuckled, patting the space beside her on the sofa. You joined her, climbing up on the cushion beside her.

“I wish you weren’t.” She sighed, pulling you onto her lap and holding you close. She rocked you slightly as you sniffled. “I’ve been trying to save your soul since birth but some people, well they’re just damned.”

You cried into her chest and she rocked you quietly, shushing you. Her hand ran up and down your back slowly and you had almost drifted to sleep when she tapped your leg. “You can’t sleep yet.”

You blinked at her sleepily before nodding, climbing down off her lap and stumbling towards the little cupboard under the stairs. You were five now. You had to say your prayers for an hour every night before bed.

The door to the closet closed behind you and plunged you into darkness. You didn’t like this part. You were afraid of the dark but your mother told you that you had to pray in here. You had to try and save your soul from hell.

///

“Well this just fucking sucks, doesn’t it?” You winced when Ellie dropped herself at your table, her arms crossed. She looked around and then looked back to you. “Why do you sit on your own? Are you the town freak, am I committing social suicide on my first day of school?”

You didn’t want to tell her. In fact you would die for just one friend that your mother hadn’t run away with her Bible rhetoric but you knew this wouldn’t last long. She was rough, always swearing and she seemed to be more world weary than you. Your mother didn’t like you to know a lot about what went outside the walls of Jackson because it opened your mind to sin.

“You kind of are.” You told her quietly. She looked around again at the other tables before shrugging and picking up her sandwich. “Dina is pretty cool. You could sit with her.”

“I’ve never been cool. I was a loser back in my old school and I met my best friend that way. Don’t want to break my lucky streak now.” She spoke with food in her mouth and grinned at you. You winced but couldn’t help the little laugh you gave her. It would be nice to have a friend for a little while again.

“Have you ever heard of Savage Starlight?” Ellie asked and you shook your head. This launched her into a massive spiel on what had to be the greatest comic book ever made and she informed you about all the characters and story lines she had gotten to read.

“‘Course I don’t know how it ends which is fucking annoying but I suppose that’s my little taste to understand how surviving the outbreak was hard. What about you?” Ellie asked and you blinked at her before shrugging. “Got any hobbies?”

“Not really. I got a lot of chores to do after school. I don’t really get time.” You explained and Ellie scrunched her face up. “It’s just me and Momma. I gotta help her out cause she’s not able to get around that easy.”

“Oh. Was she hurt?” Ellie asked softly and you smiled at her thoughtfulness but shook your head. “What then?”

“She’s getting old, she says. So I have to help. That’s my job as a daughter, you know?” You explained and she seemed to be pondering the thought before shrugging.

“I mean I’m an orphan, so not really. Joel doesn’t make me do chores because he’s boring and likes doing them. Says it reminds him of before.” Ellie explained and you nodded. It made sense.

“Were you always an orphan?” You asked and she nodded, sipping at her water. “My pa died before I was born too.”

“Nice. I don’t actually know if my dad died but I’ve been in an orphanage since basically my birth. Joel is kind of like my dad except not, you know?” Ellie asked and you shook your head. You hadn’t really ever had a dad around so you couldn’t really relate.

“Not really but I’m glad you have someone.” You told her and she smiled brightly at you.

“I think now I have two someone’s.” You shared her smile a little reluctantly. Ellie was nice, you knew that made it hurt more when they didn’t want to be friends anymore.

///

“That girl, with the swearing? Is she in your class?” Your mother asked. You were stood at the sink, staring out at the back yard. Summer had come and the flowers you had planted in the spring were all in bloom. You were rather proud of them.

“Ellie?” You asked for clarification but you knew it could only be her. She had been at the Tipsy Bison with Joel for dinner and she had been swearing up a storm. “The new girl?”

“Yes, the new girl. Don’t be daft on purpose, it doesn’t suit you.” You ducked your head focusing on the warm water your hands were in. “Is she in your class?”

“There’s only one class, Momma.” You sighed and heard the sofa creak as your mother stood from her seat. You counted the foot steps it took for her to get to you.

“That sort of cheek is the reason you’ll never get past the gates of heaven.” Your mother snapped and you winced in preparation when she took a handful of your hair and pulled you towards the cupboard under the stairs. “I don’t know why I even try with you anymore. Get in there.”

The closet had gotten cramped with age but still you were supposed to fit in and pray for at least an hour when your mother got like this. She didn’t pray with you but she did expect you to pray out loud without any pauses or noises of shuffling around.

Your eyes would adjust in a few minutes and you would have to find a cramped position in which you could be comfortable because any sign of stiffness or soreness would be seen as a regret for having prayed and earn you another hour.

“I can’t hear you.” Your voice raised in level and you counted the prayers out on your fingers hoping you didn’t miss one. She wouldn’t tell you until after and you’d have to start all over again. Tears of frustration pricked at your water line and you did your best to keep your voice steady.

You hadn’t been cheeky. You were just answering her question. She was so convinced of your damned soul that she took any chance to try absolve your sins immediately after you had committed them. You weren’t sure why you weren’t able to go a day without sinning but you knew deep down your mother was right. You were awful and you would go to hell because you had been lying to her.

You and Ellie had been friends for weeks now and she had understood when you told her that your mother didn’t like you having friends. She never approached you outside of school when you were with your mother and it had turned into one of the longest friendships you’d ever had without her to get in the way.

So you prayed a little harder for your lies and begged god not to remove the first good thing that had happened to you in years.

///

“Joel is teaching me to play guitar.” Ellie told you quietly. You were supposed to be filling out your math worksheets together but both you and Ellie were very good at math and had finished them in the first five minutes. “He wanted to be a singer when he was younger.”

“Is he any good?” You asked, laughing at the idea of big Joel Miller singing the gospel music your mother played for you when she was in a good mood.

“I think so. He’s good at country at least. I don’t know about all those old pop songs that he sings while he’s washing dishes. He just looks and sounds stupid then.” Ellie told you with a grin and you laughed again.

“He seems really fun. Me and Momma don’t have fun like that.” You told her, hand reaching up to sooth your scalp that had been burning. Four times this week she’d dragged you by your hair to pray.

“I wish you could come over to our house. Joel could make dinner and you could see the garage. I basically live on my own.” Her chest puffed out and you were in awe. You’d like to live on your own you think.

“I wish I could too. I could see all your comics and posters.” You sighed wistfully and she bumped her shoulder against yours.

“I’ll just bring them all in one by one for you to see.” She promised and you smiled brightly at her, swallowing against the almost sick feeling you got in your stomach when Ellie was nice to you.

“I know you’re gonna say this is sappy but you’re my best friend, you know that?” You asked her and she laughed.

“I’m your only friend, Angel.” That nickname seemed like it was gonna stick. Ellie had chosen it when she asked why you always paused before eating your lunch. When you had explained that you were praying she had tagged you with the nickname despite your protests that you were far from an angel.

“You’re still the best.” You promised her and she laughed, resting her head on your shoulder for a minute before straightening up again. Ellie didn’t like saying sappy stuff so she chose to touch you in some way instead, it was how she showed she liked someone. “Yeah, I know. You love me too.”

She laughed and pushed you away but you noticed her cheeks turning pink and you knew you had hit the nail on the head. You were her best friend too. You’d never had that before.

///

“Momma?” You climbed the stairs slowly, surprised to not find your mother in the living room when you got home from school. There was no reply to your call and you found the bathroom door wide open along with your mothers bedroom door.

But yours was shut tightly.

You weren’t sure why your heart was pounding as you stepped closer to the door, your hand reaching for the door knob. You took a deep breath and turned it, pushing the door open.

Your room was destroyed, everything pulled out of place, all of your books open and tattered on the ground. Your dresser drawers were overturned on the ground with your clothes spilled everywhere. “Momma?”

She was sitting on the edge of your bed, just waiting and watching your reaction. You looked around again and then back to her for explanation. “Are you okay?”

Your stomach was sinking and your lungs were constricting. She knew something she shouldn’t know and you only had one secret when it came to your mother. There was only one you couldn’t share. Ellie Williams.

“You’ve been very careful.” Your mother noted casually. Like she wasn’t in the middle of your upturned room, like she hadn’t made this mess. “Not even a trace of her.”

Of course there wasn’t. She had wanted you to bring home some of her comics but you had denied her. All the little notes she had written you were tucked away in your workbook in class. You knew better than to think you had that level of privacy at home. “Trace of who, Momma?”

“Ellie Williams.” Her tone was cold and you stayed in the doorway, not daring to get any closer to her when she was like this. It was a long way down the stairs to the cupboard if she got your hair now.

“I don’t know what you mean, Momma.” Your voice shook and she laughed at you. You didn’t know how your mother made such an expression of joy manage to be the exact opposite, cold and unfeeling.

“If I didn’t know better then I’d believe you.” She said and you swallowed, looking around again like you had been careless enough to forget something. “But when Joel Miller approached me to ask could you have a sleepover, promised it wouldn’t interrupt your chores. I had to pretend to know that you’d been talking to his girl.”

You felt faint. Your hand reached out for the door frame to steady yourself when your knees buckled. You had been so careful but not careful enough.

Your mother lifted her hands and settled a long black belt over her lap, smoothing the leather of it with her index fingers. It was your belt and you suddenly had to fight the urge to vomit.

“I always knew your soul was damned.” She sighed like the weight of the world rested on her shoulders. “But I never could’ve guessed to what extent. You’ve broken two commandments.”

“Momma, I didn’t.” You spoke quickly, fear pulsing adrenaline around your body. “I didn’t lie to you. I promise. I never told you that we talked because we sit beside each other in class. We aren’t friends, Momma. She just doesn’t understand that I have other priorities, Momma.”

The words burned you to speak them. It felt a greater sin to forsake Ellie’s friendship than to lie to your mother and when the tears pricked your eyes you knew it to be true. “I’m sorry, Momma.”

“You’ve just lied to me again, haven’t you?” She asked and you nodded slowly. There wasn’t a god on this world or the next that would have you deny Ellie.

“She’s nice to me, Momma. She doesn’t treat me mean the way everyone else does.” You explained through your tears. “I just wanted one friend. Just one.”

“You have one friend. The only friend you need. Jesus Christ who died for your sins.” Your mother stood and walked towards you.

“It’s not a sin to love Ellie, Momma. She’s my best friend.” Your mother froze in place, her eyes narrowed at you. You realized your mistake a second too late. “Not like that, Momma. We’re just friends.”

“Praying ain’t enough for you, child.” She handed over the belt and you stared at it in confusion. You had expected her to hit you with it. Maybe you were too harsh on your mother. “Go on, ten lashes.”

“You want me to-”

“Over your back. You’ll have to take your top of but self flagellation will work better than prayer. Don’t go easy either, if it don’t hurt it ain’t working.” She urged and you stared at her, bile crawling up your throat. “Come on now.”

“Momma, I didn’t do anything wrong.” You sobbed but she didn’t move, watching you with those cold eyes. “Momma.”

“Ten. I’ll count.”

///

“Dude, where the hell were you?” Ellie exclaimed when you took your seat next to her almost four days later. She wrapped an arm around your shoulders and you fought the hiss of pain, leaning into the comfort of her embrace.

You had suffered for this sin, you might as well commit it now.

“Got sick.” You explained and she let you go, looking you over. You knew how you looked. Your eyes were puffy and you were walking with a stiffness that came from being on your knees praying for almost three days straight.

“Damn, you look like hell.” She whispered and you couldn’t help the laugh. Hell was only the half of it. You had been through it all and back again in the last four days and you had made a decision.

You were choosing Ellie. No matter the pain or the punishment, you weren’t going to lose Ellie. You’d rather face an eternity of Hell in the afterlife than choose a moment without her in this one.

“I missed you.” You told her quietly and let your head rest on her shoulder. It pulled at your back but the comfort outweighed the pain you were feeling and so you didn’t move. “I missed you a lot.”

“I missed you too.” Ellie promised quietly, her head resting against yours. “And don’t be mad but Joel totally put his foot in it the other day. He asked you mom why you couldn’t sleep over. He didn’t know it was a secret.”

“Oh.” You tried to keep your voice steady. “She never said anything. Probably thought he had the wrong person.”

“Thats a relief. I didn’t want you to get in trouble over me.” Ellie sighed and the pair of you sat up when class began. Ellie kept her leg firmly against yours though and you were grateful for the comfort it offered.

When lunch came about Mrs Collins called your name and held you back while everyone else went to get food. You made you way up to her desk and she gave you a gentle smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” You promised her. Your mother had told everyone that you had been sick. You weren’t sure why it wasn’t a sin when she lied.

“Your mother told me you got a pretty nasty case of food poisoning?” Mrs Collins asked and you nodded, wondering was this another sin to pray for. “She also made a strange request.”

Your heart dropped and you looked back over your shoulder to where Ellie was waiting for you in the doorway, her back to you both. “Please don’t.”

“You want to tell me why she wouldn’t want you sitting by Ellie?” Mrs Collins asked and you shook your head, tears in your eyes. “If Ellie is hurting you or being mean to you then you can tell me.”

“No. She’s my best friend. Please don’t. I’m not allowed see her outside of school.” You explained in a rush, knowing you shouldn’t be sharing this much.

“Okay. It’s okay.” Mrs Collins insisted and you wiped at your face to dry the tears you didn’t mean to shed. “You and Ellie can stay beside each other. I’ll tell your mother I separated you both.”

///

“Only two weeks left.” You and Ellie were sixteen now, sitting with your backs against the school house. Well, Ellie was sitting back, you were a little more mindful of how the rough stone might hurt.

“What are we going to do then?” Ellie still didn’t understand the extent of your reasoning for why your mother couldn’t see you both being friends. She thought that you were old enough now to just make your own decisions.

“Well we could work together right? Your mom can’t stop that. You have to work in Jackson.” That much was true but you knew Ellie wanted to patrol just like Joel did. She had the urge to always be trying to save the world and you knew your mother wouldn’t allow it.

“You want to patrol. I’ll probably end up a waitress or in the greenhouses.” You sighed and ran a hand over your face. Ellie laughed a little and reached for your hand, tangling your fingers together and you paused, staring at them.

Ellie was turning steadily red but she didn’t let go, she tightened her grip and tugged so you’d turn to look at her. “I do want to patrol. But I want to spend time with you more. I can clean dishes or something if needs be.”

You stared at Ellie, your head tilted slightly as you studied her. She didn’t hide from you but she was blushing fully this time. You stared a second longer.

Oh.

Oh.

“Ellie.” You sighed before laughing. She attempted to free her hand but you held on tighter. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“How?” She exclaimed and it seemed like she had been holding this in for a long time with how it burst out of her. “I know you’re like super religious and most religious people hate gay people and we’re best friends and I don’t want to lose you.”

“Ellie.” You laughed again before reaching out and clasping her face in your hands. You didn’t give her a second, pulling her in and kissing her firmly. “I would walk into hell gladly knowing that I’ve held heaven in my hands.*”

“Oh you’re so fucking gay.” Ellie laughed and kissed you again, her fingers tangling in your hair. Those words should’ve terrified you but you had come to terms with it years ago while you willingly took lashings for punishment. You knew you’d take any form of torture to get to this point.

“I can’t tell anyone. Not yet. My momma will find out but Ellie, I’ve got a plan.” You promised and she smiled, her hand moving from your hair to cup your cheek.

“I haven’t told Joel yet. It’s okay.” She promised, her forehead pressing to yours.

///

You’d had a plan. It had been a good plan. Your best plan yet. Your plan did not factor Ellie and her teeth into account. The small mark she had made, definitely an accident, had given you away. Your mother had always been more than suspicious of Ellie and it seemed that even though a small bruise could be from any number of things it only made sense that it was her when paired with swollen lips and a light in your eyes.

“No.” She held the belt out to you and for the first time you refused it, shaking your head and crossing your arms. Fire burned in your mothers eyes and her jaw clenched.

“You have sins you need to repent for. You’ll burn in hell.” She cautioned and you felt the tears finally fall from your eyes, your bravery slipping away.

“Momma I love her. I’ve been in love with her since before I knew what it was.” You sobbed and she looked even angrier if possible. “How can this be wrong?”

“No child of mine will embarrass me like this before God himself.” Your mother insisted and you lifted your hands in desperation. “I won’t stand for it.”

“What more can you do?” You asked her quietly, desperately. Your love for Ellie wasn’t a flaw and it couldn’t be a sin. You didn’t want to be fixed or cured or healed. Something that felt this pure couldn’t be anything other than a blessing.

“I told you. I won’t have it.” Your mother insisted and you stared at her, unable to understand her threat. “The Lord says suicide is a sin but surely he’d understand I just couldn’t be tainted by your sin.”

“Momma, don’t do that.” You couldn’t help your tears. “It’s not bad. It’s not!”

“It is and you know it. You wouldn’t have hidden it if you weren’t ashamed of your sin.” She told you and you choked back on your sobs. “You knew that you’d never be without sin but to go and do this. I knew since you were born that you were filled with sin but I didn’t think it was cause you were one of them!”

“Momma! You know I can’t change it. I can’t. I love her.” You were choking on the tears and she only shook her head. “You can’t do that, Momma. You can’t.”

“You want me to stay alive then you stop seeing her.”

///

“Hey Angel, you okay?” Ellie asked and you blinked at her before shaking your head.

“I can’t do this. I thought I could but I can’t.” Your back was raw from the amount of repenting you had required the evening before.

“Can’t do what?” Ellie asked, unsure.

“This. Us. I thought I could reconcile it but it’s not something I can allow myself to do.” You told her, tears already flowing down your cheeks.

“What? Allow yourself to what?” Ellie asked. “Be fucking happy?”

“I won’t be happy if I move out of my Momma’s. I’ll never forgive myself for leaving her there.” You told Ellie honestly. “I’m sorry I didn’t realise this before.”

“You can’t be serious.” Ellie stared at you, her face guarded like you were going to laugh and tell her it was a sick joke. “You are serious.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You wanted her to understand but she was too heroic. She would try help if she thought this wasn’t your decision.

“Yeah. So am I for not taking your fucking word for it the first day I met you. I should’ve sat with someone else.”

///

“Saw your girl started patrol today.” You looked up from the soapy water in the sink to where your mother was standing by the back door. You blinked at her, coming out of the daze you had been in. “That ain’t no job for a woman.”

She had been horrible the last few weeks. Telling you all about Ellie’s coming and goings when you refused to leave the house for anything other than work. Washing dishes down at the Bison. Everyone had to do their part, you hated doing yours.

It wasn’t a bad job per se. You could zone out and let muscle memory take over as you scrubbed the plates clean. No one talked to you much on account of your mother and it got you out of the house for a few hours every evening.

The problem was Ellie came to the diner every night with Dina and Jesse. She didn’t linger and you doubted that she even knew you were in the back. But you always found a second to pause when you heard her voice, as familiar to you as your own heartbeat.

“You never had anything to say when any other women go on patrol. Maria’s been doing it since the walls went up.” Your head jerked back with her grip on your hair and her hand pressed to the spot between your shoulder blades causing you to hiss.

“I didn’t ask for your sass.” She warned and you blinked back tears from the pain. “I think you oughta get to praying.”

“I got work, Momma.” You told her and she gripped your hair tighter. Her hand dug into your back, nails pressing deep.

“Better go get the belt then if you’re in such a hurry.” Your mother spat and released your hair. “Every time you talk like that I get reminded that you’re a child of the devil.”

You had a hard time believing that having the devil for a mother would be any different than the Momma you had.

///

It was years before you saw the signs. You had turned twenty one under your mothers watchful glare. She threatened harm on herself if you so much as came home late from work. You wondered why you cared so much that she remained unharmed when you hadn’t been able to lie on your back for years.

It all became clear one night when you followed the noise of her downstairs. She was standing in the kitchen, looking around in confusion. “Baby, what’re you doing up so late?”

She hadn’t called you Baby in years. Not since before you had met Ellie. She claimed that no baby of hers could be full of sin. “Just checking you’re okay, Momma.”

“I’m fine. Just a little lost.” She told you, an airy laugh on her lips. “I can’t find the bathroom.”

She was standing in a puddle.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Dealing with her was both harder and easier after your discovery. Maria let you stay home and care for her when you went to her and explained what was happening. There wasn’t exactly a nursing home you could send her to.

She began to pass through phases, a different version of your mother every time you talked to her. Sometimes you had your Momma back, a sweet woman who told you how pretty you’d grown to be. Sometimes you had your mother, the one who remembered Ellie.

Then one morning, the month you were turning twenty two, you had no mother. She had fallen asleep in her rocking chair and that was where you found her.

You sat with her for a long time. Just staring at her and wondered when it had gotten to the point that you stopped caring about her. Her death didn’t seem to have done anything besides giving you a sense of freedom you had only ever felt once before with Ellie’s lips on yours and her hands in your hair.

You found it within yourself to change her and wash her. She wouldn’t have wanted anyone else to do it. You laid her out in her own bed and then made your way down to the clinic to get a doctor to finally free you from her.

///

You had elected not to have a funeral service for your mother. You hadn’t even attended her burial yourself. No one had liked your mother, not even you. Maria had tried to sympathize with you but you hadn’t let her. She was the only one who tried.

You found yourself moving out of her house and into a small one bedroom cottage Maria had offered up. You returned to the Bison to wash dishes. You lived a boring life without prayers or belts or a constant ache on your scalp from having your hair pulled out by the root.

You could read books and leave the dishes overnight and play music that didn’t mention Jesus. Your back healed up but would forever be scarred but you knew without a doubt that your pain was at an end.

It had ended alongside her heartbeat and you knew for sure it was a bad thing to think but you no longer punished yourself for bad thoughts.

You no longer punished yourself.

///

A knock on the door gave you a pause and you looked up from your book to the living room window but you couldn’t see your front porch from the angle you were sat at. Just the pouring rain that had washed into Jackson a couple of days ago.

You pushed yourself up and answered the door, expecting Maria who came to check up on you monthly to make sure you hadn’t succumbed to madness while being so isolated.

It wasn’t Maria. It was Ellie.

She was soaked, rain water running down her hair and face into her clothes. You couldn’t say anything and chose instead to just stare at her as she left a puddle on your porch.

“Your mom died?” She asked and you marveled in how you had gone from speaking to her every day for almost four years to have gone longer without her words aimed at you.

“She did.” You answered slowly after a few minutes of just the rain for background noise. You continued to stare at her.

“I’m sorry.” You blinked, falling out of your trance at the condolences she offered. You folded your arms across your chest.

“What do you want Ellie?” You didn’t mean to sound harsh but you didn’t want her apologies. You wanted her to leave so you could get on with your quiet life.

“I want to know if she was the reason.” Ellie stopped pretending the second you did, grim determination on her face.

“We were kids, Ellie.” You sighed and she wiped the water off her face and clenched her jaw. “You can’t be still thinking about it.”

“Still thinking about it?” She exclaimed. “I ain’t stopped thinking about you. I’ve spent the last six years wondering if your mom wasn’t around would we be together.”

“Ellie.” You sighed heavily, stepping back from the doorway. She looked panicked for a second and you opened the door wider. “Come in before you catch your death.”

///

You got Ellie clothes to change into and a towel to dry herself off. When she returned to your living room she was wrapped in your clothes, toweling her hair dry. You had lit the small fire in your living room and now you were standing by the window, watching the rain.

“I didn’t know she had died.” Ellie spoke quietly and you looked up at her, releasing a sigh. You took a seat on your sofa, inviting Ellie to sit next to you. “Maria mentioned it in passing while we were at dinner. I came straight over here.”

“She had dementia or Alzheimer’s. One of those. It was bound to happen.” You explained to her and she nodded slowly.

“I know you really loved her.” Ellie sighed and you turned your head to look at her.

“I didn’t. Not really. I had a really tough life with her.” You explained to Ellie and she nodded like she had always known that. She didn’t get to nod like that. She didn’t know the half of it. “I think she had her sickness my whole life. She was batshit insane.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Ellie asked and you shrugged. You weren’t sure why you hadn’t been able to tell anyone. Mostly, you reasoned, you hadn’t known she was sick. How could you tell Ellie that you thought you were the problem? That you were so full of sin even your own mother couldn’t love you?

“It was my problem to deal with.” You told her honestly. “What are you really doing here?”

“To see if your okey. To see if there’s a chance we got it wrong at sixteen.” Ellie turned to face you, drawing her knees up to her chest. You couldn’t look at her.

“We?” You asked, picking at your nail beds and ignoring how close she was, how your body lit up in response.

“Yeah. We. You for calling it all off and me for letting you walk away.” You turned to look at her, incredulous. “I shouldn’t have given up.”

“That’s exactly what you should’ve done. Anything else would’ve made it so much worse.” You told her, pinching the bridge of your nose to ward off the headache you could feel coming.

“I could’ve helped!” Ellie insisted. “I could’ve given you the support you needed.”

“You couldn’t have made me straight!” You yelled, standing up from the sofa. You paced back to the window, staring out at the rain. “I needed to not be like this. You couldn’t have fixed that. She hated me.”

“She was your mother.” Ellie argued and you scoffed, fighting the urge to turn and look at her. “She had to have loved you.”

“She told me she’d kill herself if I went back to you.” You turned then, wanting to see the look in her eyes. The look of disgust because you gave in, you let her control you. But Ellie didn’t look disgusted, she looked horrified. “I came home one evening with swollen lips and this tiny mark on my jaw and she knew what we’d been doing. She told me that if I kept talking about loving you that she’d kill herself to not be stained by my sin.”

“She was sick. She didn’t know what she was-” your hand went to the hem of your T-shirt, pulling it up so that she could see your back. The criss cross of scars that overlapped. Years of torture and abuse. All of it culminating in this. “Angel.”

Ellie breathed that old nickname and you dropped your shirt but she caught it, having moved closer without your knowing. Her fingers ghosted over your skin and her breath came out shaky.

“When did this start?” Ellie asked and you laughed bitterly. “This isn’t a fucking joke. When did it start?”

“The day Joel asked for a sleepover. I told you she couldn’t know. I guess you just didn’t understand why.” She let your shirt drop and you turned around to find yourself face to face with her. “She told me that I was damned at five years of age. She used to make me pray in the dark for hours at a time. When I was twelve she made me hurt myself to repent for the sin of loving you. I never could. I repented for not being sorry instead.”

“I could’ve helped. I could’ve gotten you out.” Ellie sighed, her hand coming up to your cheek. You leaned into her and closed your eyes against the emotions that were welling up. “I could’ve fucking killed her for you.”

“I would’ve taken you up on that. Isn’t the awful?” You asked her but she shook her head, wrapping her arms around you. “I was so relieved when she died.”

“Guess I don’t have to feel bad for feeling the same way. I always knew it was her. Cause this, what’s going on with us, we might’ve been kids but I know what I felt, Angel. This was the real deal.” Ellie whispered against your neck and then you let it happen. You let the tears fall. You held her tightly and you sobbed for everything you could’ve had for the last six years.

///

You were sitting on the sofa, curled up against Ellie’s chest. Her hands softly stroked your hair and you were struck silent by the parallel of your mother doing the exact opposite, hurting you so violently.

“So you gonna cut me loose or keep me this time?” Ellie asked quietly. You looked up at her and without speaking cupped her cheek in your hand and pulled her down to your level. You pressed a sweet kiss to her lips and she smiled. “Not afraid of Hell any more?”

“If loving you leads me to hell then I’ll sit at the table with all the others who gave up the idea of an eternity of heaven for a short time with the true meaning of paradise.”

*Lyra Wren on tiktok

[olderthannetfic]

Im neither a proshipper nor an anti at this current stage in life, but at one point i was an anti i guess? And I hate it say it, but looking back, I understand why. I don't think I actually gave a fuck about Harmful Fanfic or whatever, it was just a substitute for therapy that i couldn't get at the time (because "literally neurodivergent and a minor" or whatever, but like...actually literally neurodivergent and a minor LOL).

As weird as it sounds like, no one cared about my ACTUAL PAIN, and that made me feel EVEN MORE PAIN, so i took it out on ppl who shipped "abuse", or whatever.

It's so stupid now, as an adult who is mentally better than I was then, but as ridiculous as it was, seeing someone ship an "abusive" ship or a "queer erasing ship" (like a canonically gay character with someone of the other binary gender)...it felt eerily similar to the actual abuse I was facing and the stress that everyone was putting on me to find a boyfriend or ask why my (closeted lesbian) self didn't like any boys.

But it was so much easier to keyboard warrior about how people who ship Bad things are Bad people, than it was to fix any problems in my actual life because...well, the actual problems in my life COULDN'T be fixed. That isn't a learned helplessness thing, there was genuinely nothing I could've done. So pissing off Shippers was, like, a vessel for that, and it *felt* like I was getting to lash out at the same people who were ACTUALLY hurting me, even though that obviously is not the case. Funny thing is, it wasn't actual fandom discourse that made me switch sides, it was getting to learn more about youth liberation movements and stuff, because it was then that I recognized the actual structures that were making me hurt.

I think one silver lining is it's made me more compassionate an adult. While I don't have any defense for the antis who do actual horrendous stuff like doxxing or sending death/rape threats, etc, I do have a lot of defense for the ones who were like me and would just make posts talking about how Wrong it is to ship certain things. I know that not all antis are in the same place that I was once was, and some are just genuinely immature brats, but it's like. . . I get it, you know?

The cycle of abuse/bullying is weird and it's not often a 1:1 "I had an abusive parent so now i'll be an abusive parent", sometimes it's the chronically online stuff like I did. It's also why I'm careful-careful to not engage and to just block or, even try to have a mature discussion if I can, and if the person I'm talking to is just "a little bit annoying" rather than "actual bully doing/sending illegal stuff". A lot of them just want to be heard, I think, and it really makes me sad that this is the way they choose to be heard...but also i get it, because i was that.

--

Yup. We often discuss anti tendencies in this framework.

People want control over their environment when they have none. They want the world to make sense and for there to be simple rules they can follow to Never Mess Up. This is a very common reaction to trauma and also typical of brains that like order and neat boxes and a world full of justice and logic.

The trouble is that a critical mass of "I'm just pointing this out" type posts does tend to make all the other teens with an issue around moral scrupulosity implode. (And let's be real, plenty of the antis themselves are secretly into dark content and are trying to pray the gay kink away.)

I have some sympathy, but I'm still going to tell people they're sealioning when they are and tell them they're flat out wrong about how fantasies work, not sugar coat it because they're probably a delicate teen. There's no need to be excessively mean or treat people as irredeemable, but I also don't like how we talk endlessly about compassion for teen antis and not for teens targeted by antis. It's similar to how there are all those complaints like "Hey, I work hard to manage my mental illness, but all the support seems to go to people who are letting their issues rampage..."

[dirtwormpile]

advice for baby helpol

i wont really consider myself a 'baby helpol' since im much confident in my worship and have learnt, but ofc, im still learning. heres my advice to anyone who is starting out.

⁜ keep a journal with hymns, poems, and information on the gods. make it look pretty if thats what you want.

⁜ pick up on baking! its fun and they make great food offerings.

⁜ please dont use information from modern retellings (or worse.. 'feminist' retellings from booktok.) unless you have done your research and you know its factual.

⁜ wanna learn about the gods? are the books from that time too overwhelming? no fear, overly sarcastic productions is here (but keep in mind, you have to be over 14 and they have a non-religious, academic approach.)

⁜ get candles! they can be white, or have no scent, so as long as you have good intention.

⁜ no gemstones? go on a walk and collect rocks. rocks are means of honoring the gods.

⁜ broke and have no tarot cards? print them out, draw them

⁜ if you want to make tiny altars (for travelling or because youre in the closet), use matchstick boxes, tin boxes, etc! put a symbol of your deity and a prayer, and some matchsticks.

⁜ practice the pillars of hellenism.

⁜ honor the gods on their days, this can be like writing a poem for them, or drawing them, or making an offering.

⁜ you can worship more than one god, even if you dont work with them. youre a hermes devotee but youre praying to athena for that math exam? go for it! youre a phanes devotee but youre worshipping thanatos? go buckaroo

⁜ your worship doesnt have to be 'aesthetic'. make sure its clean and tidy. the gods care about your devotion, not how pretty it is. also PLEASE WASH YOUR HANDS HOLY SHIT i realized this MUCH later so please save yourselves 🙏

ill add more if i remember any, gods bless you!

[hydra00110110]

What Was Left

Hey ya'll, this is my first Donna Beneviento fanfiction. Originally it was going to be hella spicy but it suddenly spun a 180. To be truthful, I had a difficult time writing this. I hope that you will feel what I felt and find beauty within the sorrow.

Word count: 590

". . .perished from a hand outstretched for a mother's love."

Out of the four lords who watched over the village, Donna Beneviento was not the tallest nor the strongest lord. And although silent and observant, she was regarded as the most feared lord of the village. Shrouded in black, she struck fear in the heart of every villager, old and young. It was a unanimous assumption that Lord Beneviento was an insane recluse who would turn unfortunate souls into lifeless dolls. Because of this fearfulness, nobody dared to venture to the Beneviento estate. What the villagers did not know was that the ominous, silent, specter was a misunderstood woman, whose voicelessness befell her from a life marred with sorrow. When Donna was a mere child, her older sister, Claudia, succumbed to an illness at only nine years of age. Donna’s parents withheld the circumstances of Claudia’s death from Donna. However, they did not withhold their grief from her. Often times, her parents lashed out at her, distraught with how Donna was not like Claudia. Donna was not a lively and cheerful girl like Claudia. Instead, Donna was often soft-spoken and timid. When outside, Donna would often seek company in the shadows of the trees instead of children her age like her sister did. These reflections only made Donna’s parents miss their other daughter that much more. They looked at her in disgust and withheld affection. All of this took a toll on the poor girl, and it ultimately broke her when she found her parents floating at the bottom of the waterfall. The only thing that provided Donna comfort was her doll, Angie. For years, Donna played with Angie in her closet—only emerging when absolutely necessary. She eventually found a father figure in the old gardener who tended to the yard. Every day, he would join her tea parties and have lovely conversations with Angie. When she became a young adult, Donna was adopted by an enigmatic, priestess-like woman whose name was simply “Mother Miranda.” Donna was overjoyed to belong to her new mother. Eager to please, Donna did anything and everything for her, even surrendering her own body to be implanted with a parasite called the cadou. The mother’s diabolical experiment left the right side of Donna’s face covered in a tendril-infested, tumorous scar. Donna was deemed as a “failure,” which left the young woman’s heart shattered and her disfigured face shrouded behind a veil. Desperate to regain her mother’s acceptance and affection, Donna obeyed every order that was given to her, even if it was against her will. Even after taking the life of the only person to attend her tea parties, Donna never regained her mother’s love. Throughout the years of isolation and the lord’s “family” meetings, Donna slowly pieced together the shards of her heart which revealed how a little girl was never loved nor found—only manipulated and lost. For the rest of her days, the heartbroken lord locked herself away within the lifelessness of her decaying mansion; oftentimes in her workshop crafting dolls steeped in grief; her only sister was gone. Her parents forever abandoned her in a moment of biased grief. Her fatherly tea party goer perished from a hand outstretched for a mother’s love. Donna could no longer find it within herself to pray for love. What was left now was a cry for mercy. Unable to bear the agonizing desolation, she begged to the Black Gods every day until ultimately, they heard her prayers. Donna would finally receive her broken prayer when he walked to her doorstep; a man named Ethan Winters.

@doodl3b3ans

[murfpersonalblog]

IWTV Musings - LDPDL & Nosferatu 2024

We all know & love AMC!IWTV's canon that the Unholy Family saw Nosferatu in 1922, and busted a gut rotflol over Hollywood's vampire.

But if Louis saw Nosferatu 2024, in the wake of Lestat in NOLA, and esp. Armand in Paris/SanFran/Dubai & Claudia's death, I reckon he'd be triggered on several levels. Ofc, one doesn't need to see Nos24 thru Louis' eyes/POV to recognize all the themes about the predatory nature of vampiric seduction, let alone the devastating ways vampires affect/abuse/take advantage/wreak havoc on human vulnerabilities like religious mania depression, mental illness, and suicidal ideation. But let's go for it!

The Closeted (Isolation, Repression, & Mental Illness)

In IWTV, Louis was a closeted gay man who had to grow up always hiding who he really was, for fear of punishment by his uber-Catholic family as well as society at large. Homosexuality was not only considered a mental illness, subject to extreme forms "treatment" including solitary confinement in a sanatorium (mental asylum--the same place his mentally ill brother Paul had already been sent that made him "worse than before"); but also a crime punishable by incarceration or even death.

I've long said that "Rashid"/Armand's treatment of Louis esp. in Dubai was more like a nurse than a servant--the kind of nurse that hates their job (being "stuck on suicide watch") & whose bedside manner effing SUCKS, having no patience for the mentally ill & no capacity to properly take care of them; just making things worse.

In Nosferatu, Ellen was always "touched" as a child, having the 2nd sight that allowed her to always know ahead of time what her Xmas gifts were, and know the date her mom would die. Her mean father thought she was a freak and had her closeted away & isolated from society, the family embarrassment. Even after she got married, Thomas' BFF Friedrich barely tolerated Ellen, and when her seizures started he had her tied & doped & corseted up--all the worst ways of caring for her that likely did more harm than good. Ellen even called him out on it, knowing Friedrich tied her up cuz he hated having to deal with her in the first place "I tire of discussing her; can we please talk about something else; the entire household centers around her fairy whims!," and got sick of her being in his house anymore.

Book & Hearth's video analysis of Ellen's mental illness in Nosferatu says this:

So, Louis/Ellen are both people stigmatized by Victorian society for things that were never their fault (homosexuality, mental illness, etc), either socially closeted/isolated (Louis) or spatially closeted/isolated (Ellen).

(Lestat kept whining in 1x3 & 2x7 about how the worst thing a vampire can feel is loneliness--as if that's not awful for humans to feel, too. 🙄 Esp. since vamps are immortal, they've got all the time in the world for someone to eventually show up & fall in love with them; unlike humans, who grow old & decrepit & die in no time flat.)

We see the extreme lengths Louis & Ellen would go to, to alleviate their loneliness & desperation for companionship, and their desire to feel seen & close to someone--even if that someone was the Devil himself: a vampire.

"Come to me" - Loustat & Orllen

Both IWTV & Nosferatu use Come to Me. It's a motif as old as Dracula itself, so it's par for the course, really.

"Come to me, Arthur. Leave these others and come to me. My arms are hungry for you. Come, and we can rest together. Come, my husband, come!" --Lucy Westenra, Dracula

But both shows play around with it in interesting ways.

In IWTV, Lestat repeatedly chants C2M/Viens a moi to lure Louis to him. In 1x1 Louis actually runs away, fleeing to the church & prayed to God to help/kill him; only for the Devil/Lestat to show up & "give you death" by making him a vampire. But in 1x6, Lestat uses the song "Come to Me" to "get a rise out of" Louis, who swims the Mississippi to take his estranged husband back. But during the Trial, Lestat lied on Lou and accused him of saying C2M to "accost" Les instead--the human seducing the vampire. Meanwhile, Lou still has Les's master recording of C2M in 2022, which he plays for Daniel in Dubai--again proving that Les was lying on Lou & weaponized C2M against him.

Nosferatu24 plays the human-calling/seducing-the-vampire straight, where Ellen literally summoned Orlock. Lonely, she'd prayed to God for a companion, "a spirit of comfort," but accidentally roused the Nosferatu from his sleep as she kept repeating "Come to me."

Ellen accidentally called Orlock, and Lestat hunted Louis down--but both characters are still guilt-ridden by their open-armed acceptance of their vampire lovers, once they eventually realize that the person they thought would be their comfort/safety had only taken advantage of their loneliness, desperation & ignorance about their situation and the type of creature these vamps really were.

Louis' relationship with Armand doesn't 1:1 fit, since they never use C2M per se, but Armand DOES approach Louis similarly to Les, as the charismatic vampire who stalked Lou before finally confronting him, luring him & Claudia into the Theatre to recruit/convert them to his crazy AF coven/cult; and then using a series of lies, manipulations & brainwashes to take advantage of Louis' trauma post-Banishment to keep Lou as his (un)willing companion for 77yrs after killing his daughters.

The Death of 2 Daughters

Orlock's murder of Friedrich's 2 daughters is a chilling scene. The Nosferatu puts a spell on Friedrich while he's sleeping, his hand casting a spectral shadow over Friedrich's face to keep him pinned in his bed and trapped in his nightmares. Meanwhile, his 2 daughters & wife are screaming for him to help them, but Friedrich can't move or wake up, impotently clutching the gun in his hand as his wife & kids are slaughtered bu Orlock, just down the hall from him.

Orlock has both the little girls in his clutches, and throws them down like sacks of potatoes once he's done draining them, as their mother Anna helplessly watches, screaming, before he kills her, too.

This is painfully similar to how Armand instructed the coven to fog the minds of Claudia, Madz & Louis whenever they tried defending themselves, on top of their ankles being slashed so they couldn't move, escape, or fight back--esp. not once Lou was dragged away kicking & screaming to be buried alive, ensuring that he'd be helpless to do anything to save his 2 daughters from being murdered. The last thing he ever heard Claudia say was her screaming his name.

(Since this is 2024, Louis wouldn't yet be privy to the details Lestat reveals in S3 (2026). But if Lestat's also watching Nos24, he knows even more about Claudia's final moments than Lou does--that feeling of helplessness is only amplified by the fact that she's HIS literal Blood Child--he'd've felt her die the same way Louis felt Madz die. Drained after using his Mind Gift to save Louis with Banishment, Lestat's too weak to save Claudia as she burns. The last thing Claudia ever saw was her father just standing there, uselessly watching Armand & the coven burn her to death.)

Sexual Inhibitions, Awakenings, Stigmas, Salvation

Louis is often mocked/derided in the fandom as a d**kmatized Pick Me who only thinks with his loins to stay with toxic AF Lestat's "considerable considerables;" after years of closeted sexual repression.

"Do you remember the best you ever had? So imagine that flowing inside your veins again. Now multiply it by miles, to the rings of Saturn and back...." "He had a way about him, those first years, Lestat. Preternaturally charming, occasionally thoughtful. He was my murderer, my mentor, my lover, and my maker--all of those things at once. He had taken what he called un petit coup, the Little Drink. Not enough to kill me, but just enough to keep him fit. It takes an enormous amount of restraint for us, the Little Drink. For a human, experiencing it for the first time, it was…unsettling. And not for the physical toll on my body, which was significant, but for the feelings of intimacy it awoke within me."

Lestat's seduction of Louis was a sexual revelation/awakening, but it also spooked TF outta Louis. He fled Lestat's house in a gay panic, "vowing never to return." I also discussed how Lestat's C2M in 1x1 was dubcon/noncon, and mirrored Lestat in Paul's head, making both him AND Louis feel unclean.

She sank on her knees on the floor in an agony of abasement. Pulling her beautiful hair over her face, as the leper of old his mantle, she wailed out. “Unclean! Unclean! Even the Almighty shuns my polluted flesh! I must bear this mark of shame upon my forehead until the Judgement Day.” -- Mina Harker, Dracula

(Lou was bored to dangit death with Armand in SanFran (the gay mecca where he'd been enjoying his 2nd wind/try at a gay sexual awakening), mocking Armand for having been forced into ascetic celibacy by the Children of Satan, who made him forget he had a working peen (Lou was obvs mad that Armand wasn't using said peen with Lou--the Bed Death Truthers were right all along, LOL).)

Meanwhile, Ellen was outright called a "sinner" by her father when he found her lying naked after a (Orlock-induced) fit/orgasm.

Orlock stayed with Ellen for years, an incubus visiting her in her dreams & having sex with her (the best she'd ever had, as she later throws in Thomas' face, "you could never please me like he could"); but also throwing her into fits/seizures--"at first it was sweet...and then it turned to torture!"

In the end, LDPDL & Ellen use their sexual prowess to distract their vampire husbands long enough for their Murder Plots to be accomplished--a la Mina Harker in Dracula.

Louis is literally instructed by Claudia to seduce Lestat, keeping him distracted with sex while Claudia plans how to poison & kill him. Louis is afraid to fall back into the "well with no bottom" and "lose myself in him," and Claudia promises to be his salvation--pulling him out in time to strike the killing blow to Lestat.

Ellen is another femme fatale who welcomes Orlock into their marriage bed, where she forcefully holds him close as he notices the sun rising; keeping him distracted with sex long enough for the sunlight to cook him to death as she hemorrhages under him. Her suicide is her salvation/martyrdom, as she frees herself (and the whole town) from Orlock's clutches.

(Again, Armand doesn't have as neat of a 1:1 fit, since Louis doesn't distract him with sex to defeat him. But Louis still plays up his seemingly helpless submission to get Armand to allow the interview to continue, as if Daniel isn't threat, and as if Louis doesn't suspect Armand of foul play--at least not until the end of 2x5 ofc. But Armand constantly wrests control back, and by the end of the interview in 2x8 he ALMOST wins. Louis doesn't defeat Armand or save himself at all here--DANIEL defeats Armand & saves Louis instead, showing the leagues of difference between the threat Armand posed vs Lestat. )

[carmyberzattosjournal]

Therapy Files 2: Splinters in the Water (Therapist)

Summary: Carmen Berzatto is the most interesting patient this psychologist has met in the city. (669 Words)

Warnings: I am not a psychologist; this is not medical advice. Swearing, mention of suicide, mention of alcoholism, mention of mental and emotional abuse, religious references. Feat. Darling (aka fem reader, though the reader could also be the psychologist).

Notes: Thank you for reading and sharing! This is a work in the Therapy Files Series and will be tagged with #cb therapy files.

Sideblog for commentary and social stuff: @m-z-shoroi

Day 1

It’s too late to be doing this right now, but here we go.

I’ve had a few cases that have stuck out so far—Chicago needs about ten million more therapists yesterday, this city is drowning under crippling mental illness—but Mr. Berzatto might be the most interesting.

He’s a disaster. A wreck of biblical proportions. He’s the broken slats of Noah’s Ark on Mount Ararat. Splinters in the water as it recedes. It’s like he’s held together by duct tape, super glue, and two prayers, this poor young man. Needs about a thousand more. I might add him to the list of patients to pray for, and I only just met him.

He looked like he was going to pass out when I called his name in the waiting room. He had a woman with him; she was holding his hand and rubbing his back. She seems sweet. He looked to her for reassurance, not unlike a small child. I feel like I recognize her, but that’s a problem for later. He was hunched up in his patchwork jacket, almost like he was trying to take up the least amount of space he could, and it wasn’t until he handed me the clipboard of his intake paperwork that I noticed his tattoos. He’s got some novels on his skin. Could be safe topics to unpack if needed. Lipstick print on the left hand, matched the shade his partner was wearing. He kept looking at it every time he locked up during the appointment. Also something safe to ask about.

PHQ-9 is 21. GAD-7 is 18. Suicide risk low; girlfriend is a protective factor. Referral to psychiatry sent.

Full clinical assessment in clinical notes; I keep getting off track with these entries.

Obvious severe anxiety, sure, but he’s softspoken, almost like he’s choking on his words as they come out. I’ll admit, he looked like he would be a difficult one. I know the type, I’ve had several. Significant other or parents or best friends force them to come to therapy hoping it’ll fix the damaged relationship they have, but because they don’t want to be there, the exercise becomes a fruitless endeavor. He’s not one of those. He admitted he needs help, but he’s not sure where to start. Admitted that the idea of therapy was unappealing to him, but that something had to change, and this would be a change. It’s unique. He’s highly logical and goal-oriented but also lacks organization and emotional development. Wavers between extremely attentive and absent. Alcoholic mother, absent father, addict brother who was a suicide victim, high-stress job, mental and emotional abuse. But warm. Vulnerable in his nature. A child forced to be an adult too soon, but more comfortable in that adulthood, even if he lacks the legs for it. Odd.

This kid’s got a lot of skeletons in his closet.

He has the bluest eyes I have ever seen in my life. I don't know if they're real or contacts. I'm tempted to say real because, with the state he is in, I doubt he'd want to put in bright blue contacts, but I'll have to gather more information—could be part of the masking. His hair is a mess, too. It's somehow dry and greasy at the same time, curly, wavy, kinky, some random ramen noodle shapes by his temples because he drags his fingers through it repeatedly. Seems to be a nervous tic. Couldn't hold still. He was uninterested in any of the fidgets I had available.

Prominent stammer. Wouldn't hold eye contact when speaking but held it when listening. Self-soothing face touching. Jerky movements. Mask-like flat expression. Looked tired. Looked like his soul was tired, the kind of tired I’d expect in a middle-aged mother of 4 teenage children, not someone in their mid-20s. Heightened sensitivity to sound and light. Anxious about sitting with his back to the door. It took him too long to answer basic questions—overthinking? Anxiety? Guarded? Why not all 3?

Likely all 3.

Trauma referral sent.

Appointments once a week scheduled for the next 3 months.

So, why the fuck can’t I sleep?

[clusterlgbt]

Sending my love and support to neurodivergent/disabled Muslims this Ramadan.

Muslims who can’t fast for health reasons. Your health always comes first. If you need to eat due to medication, diabetes, ED recovery, or any other reason, it’s good that you’re doing that. There’s so much more to Ramadan than just fasting.

Muslims who struggle with remembering salah or reciting Quran. Disabled Muslims who can’t perform the movements of salah the way that other Muslims do. Nonverbal Muslims who can’t pray or recite with mouth words at all.

Muslims who are immunocompromised and can’t go to things like taraweeh or iftar or praying in the masjid. I know that it’s isolating, I hope you’re able to still enjoy Ramadan and find community. Please keep yourself safe this month and always.

Muslimahs who can’t wear hijab due to sensory issues.

Muslims with sleep disorders who struggle to wake up for Fajr.

Muslims who struggle with addiction to alcohol, drugs, substances in general. Your addiction is not your fault and having addictions is not haram.

Muslims who are told that mental illness isn’t real, whose issues are swept aside.

I also want to give a special shout-out to queer Muslims. Muslims who are not able to present as the gender that they are. Muslims who don’t know which side of the mosque to go to. Muslims being pressured to find straight relationships, who have to hide their real relationships or the fact that they don’t want a relationship at all. Muslims who are out and proud, Muslims who are closeted. It goes the other way too. Muslims who face Islamophobia within the Queer community. Allah SWT made you just the way you’re supposed to be, you are not haram.

Shoutout to reverts as well, especially reverts who don’t have a Muslim community. Maybe no one around you even knows you’re Muslim at all. Maybe you’re eating and fasting and praying alone all month, but that won’t be forever. You’ll find your community.

Remember: “With hardship comes ease.” It’s okay if Ramadan is not an easy time for you, things will get better. Allah SWT tests those that He loves the most. You are not alone this month, you are never alone.

[flowerandblood]

Sweet kiss, sweet blood (4)

[ dark vampire! • Aemond x female ]

[ warnings: sexual tension, profanation, fluff ]

[description: A centuries-old vampire lives in Victorian England, bored and discouraged. His old friend sends him a letter, inviting him to his new country house. Aemond arrives there to rest. Next to the property, there is a small chapel, visited by the faithful. It turns out that at night, a young lady prays in it. Sexual tension, profanation, murder, blood drinking.]

I owe the idea for this wonderful series to: @qyburnsghost

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

_____

When she entered her house everyone was already there. They came by carriage on the main passable road. She took off his soaked coat and hung it on the hanger. She thought she must remember to give it back to him along with the umbrella.

She tried not to think about the touch of his hand on her face. About how he probably almost kissed her. About what he had told her.

She was snapped out of her thoughts by her mother, running out into the corridor, pale and terrified. Her mother was very easy to scare or upset. She felt like that was what her life was all about. Worrying about others and herself.

"Child, why did you go on foot in this rain? Come, you need to change immediately. Mathilda!” She called a girl who was their servant.

She entered her bedroom listening to her mother's complaints about her thoughtlessness and the likely illness she would cause herself in the near future.

"You've upset your father very much." She said under her breath as she pulled out her home dress, thinner and more comfortable, less ornate, from her closet.

She sat down in front of her dressing table mirror, pulling the pins out of her wet hair, completely unresponsive to this remark.

"Not to mention how you embarrassed us in front of Mr. Smith, Ser Criston and his friend." She said coldly, and she pursed her lips at the thought of the fair-haired man keeping her awake at night.

Ever since she'd come across him in the chapel she hadn't been able to stop thinking about him. He scared her in a way. He seemed mysterious and hostile, but there was something about him that endeared her. His irony and sarcasm made her look at her life from a slightly different perspective. He surprised her with his words.

Her heart trembled at the thought of sharing a secret with him. She blushed slightly at the memory of herself kissing his cold hand. She had no idea what possessed her then. She just wanted to touch his skin. She wondered if he felt the same way too, and that was why he couldn't help but touch her again.

Her father didn't speak to her for the rest of the day, pretending she wasn't there. Whenever she did something he didn't like he reacted the same way. He acted as if she were air until she came back humbly, begging his forgiveness, acknowledging him as her father and superior. But for that she wasn't going to apologize.

When the pastor came to propose to her she was terrified and devastated. She immediately declined, saying she wasn't ready to get married.

Her father corrected her, saying that any bride her age was ready to get married and that her family would welcome him as a foster son. At that moment she lost what little respect she felt for her father. Her mother, as usual, did not come to her defense.

From then on, she escaped to the chapel every day to pray in silence and talk to God about her plan. She asked him in her mind what he thought about running away, about marrying someone else, about postponing the wedding, and many other things that crossed her mind.

She wanted him to help her understand what to do. Why, if God's providence had clearly intended her to marry Mr. Smith, had she felt so bad about it.

She prayed to God for humility, wisdom, patience, and all the qualities she thought she lacked. Or at least that's what her father thought. She wanted him to be proud of her.

She was torn apart. She knew that if her grandfather were alive he would have given her some wise advice. But her grandfather was gone, and no one in her family wanted to hear about the fact that the wedding might not take place.

"He's a great young man. Handsome, God-fearing, well-read, with values. What more do you want? Greed and intemperance are grave sins, child." He had said it once, and she had the feeling that she would burn with embarrassment at his words. She felt ungrateful.

That night Ser Aemond came to the chapel for the first time, terrifying her. She thought that this was her punishment for her lack of humility from the heavens - her bodily and spiritual humiliation.

However, nothing happened. He prayed, tense and aloof, his face like a stone sculpture. She thought, watching him out of the corner of her eye, that he was terribly pale and wondered if he was suffering from something.

From then on she came to the chapel every day, hoping to meet him again. She never did. Without knowing why, she felt disappointed.

She hoped that this man was her sign from heaven, someone who would help her make the right decision. One night she simply fell asleep, waiting for him. When she woke up and saw him in the pew far behind her, she thought she was still dreaming.

His behavior was secretive and withdrawn. Ser Criston himself aroused suspicion in the inhabitants, rarely appearing outside his estate. Her father told her that he did not understand at all how such a wealthy man could buy such a hovel.

She herself noticed that when she went to the chapel late at night the light was often on in the mansion. She wondered when this man slept.

Sitting by the fire, wrapped in blankets with a cup in her hand, she thought about tomorrow's tea that her father had spoken of. His position in society was extremely important to him, and he considered that he would only be able to maintain it if he socialized with high society. He had chosen Ser Criston, and the arrival of his friend only made his task easier, making the invitation even more important.

Her heart clenched at the thought of seeing him again. No one but them knew that they had already spoken to each other several times, so she couldn't be too direct with him.

In fact, she shouldn't have spoken to him in front of her father at all. According to him, she was a young, engaged lady who should humbly lower her eyes and listen.

She squeezed her eyes shut, seeing in her mind his face bent over her, loud rain all around them. She felt like time stood still for her in that moment.

She wanted to cry from the helplessness of the excess of feelings that he aroused in her, and which she could not release in any way. She thought that Mr. Smith had never made her feel that way. When he spoke to her she felt absolutely nothing.

She decided not to go to the chapel that night. She didn't have the strength to meet him again. She was afraid that she might do something she would regret.

She thought that he was a man with nothing to lose. Whatever happens, he will return to his city and leave everything behind. She, on the other hand, will remain with the effects of her every little decision.

She went to sleep, sad and discouraged, turning from side to side. She prayed for him with her eyes closed, asking God to grant him all his grace and forgiveness for his sins. She wondered if he was waiting for her.

***

Aemond felt uncomfortable looking out the window at the darkened park. She didn't come, and he knew he was the reason why. He guessed she didn't know what to think of him, and he might have missed his only chance to meet her alone. He thought he would go mad if he didn't taste her soon.

No matter how.

It didn't help that Criston had reprimanded him harshly after he had returned to the estate. He was furious that he was making him and himself suspicious by showing his interest in this girl so openly. Aemond knew he was right, but he couldn't help it.

He wanted her.

The next day they dressed for tea in silence. Criston still didn't feel like talking to him because of their late-night discussion. Aemond decided not to provoke him and let him calm down.

The weather, to their despair, was warm and sunny. They covered themselves as much as they could and moved ahead on horseback, wanting to save as much time as possible. Mr. and Mrs. Whatrefield greeted them at the door, smiling warmly. Mr. Whaterfield held out his hands to them.

"Gentlemen! I'm very glad you came. I invite you to my humble home. Here is my wife, my daughters and my son-in-law, whom you met yesterday." He said, and Ser Criston nodded, taking off his top hat.

Aemond couldn't help but glance at Mr. Whaterfield's youngest daughter. She glanced at him with an unreadable expression on her face, looking away. Mr. Whaterfield approached him, surprising him.

“Ser Aemond, I am very sorry that you witnessed a scene involving my disobedient daughter yesterday. Your umbrella and coat lie washed and dried in the hall." He spoke low and calm. Aemond nodded at his words, but said nothing. After a while everyone went inside.

Aemond and Criston were ushered into a small, pleasant, bright lounge with light, blue bird wallpaper. There were plenty of large, tall windows around them, letting in plenty of light. Aemond felt dizzy at the feeling. He and Criston looked at each other, knowing neither of them would last long there.

Aemond and Criston sat in large, soft, upholstered armchairs across from a small coffee table. Mr. & Mrs. Fuuse sat on one sofa, and Mr. Mrs. and Miss Whaterfield sat on the other.

Mrs. Whaterfield ordered tea and biscuits. After a while a maid brought pots of tea and cups, then brought snacks. Aemond allowed himself a cup of tea as a courtesy, but he had no intention of eating anything.

Human food tasted like paper to him now.

Mrs. Whaterfield shifted in her seat, smiling, feeling that it was in her power to start the conversation.

"How do you like our little village, Ser Aemond? There are definitely more attractions in the city than here.” She said with a slight laugh under her breath.

Out of the corner of his eye Aemond saw Miss Whaterfield sigh softly at her question, looking away in embarrassment. He cleared his throat, trying to hide his amusement.

“It depends on what attractions you are looking for.” He answered briefly and enigmatically, his words practically nothing but grunts. Mrs. Fuuse looked at him in surprise.

"And what attraction do you seek in our Mantfield, sir?" She asked flirtatiously, waving her long, black eyelashes. Aemond smiled as he looked at young Miss Whaterfield who also glanced at him.

"Peace of mind." He answered briefly, never taking his intense gaze off her.

He felt satisfaction when he saw her flinch slightly, lowering her eyelids, a blush on her cheeks. She knew he was interested in her. She knew he wanted her.

He crossed his legs, wanting to hide the manhood throbbing painfully in his trousers.

Her father, seeing this exchange of glances, cleared his throat quietly, wanting to change the subject.

"Ser Criston, when are you planning to renovate the property? It's gorgeous, but from the outside, please forgive me for the word, it's just a ruin." He said incredulously, taking a sip of his tea.

Criston blinked, not knowing for a moment what to say. He wasn't planning any renovation, because he wasn't planning to stay there forever. But he couldn't tell them that.

“Perhaps next year. I am looking for appropriate specialists for this purpose.” He lied, smiling warmly.

Looking at him closely, Aemond decided that he was an excellent actor. He took his watch out of his waistcoat and looked at it. He was getting hotter and hotter, his skin starting to burn. Ten more minutes, he thought, and they could end this courtesy visit.

“Oh, I know the right company, run by a proven, responsible man. I'd love to introduce you." Mr. Whaterfield replied, apparently sensing another opportunity to make a deal. Criston smiled at his words, trying not to show the tiredness and discomfort he felt, similarly to his companion.

"Thank you, I will be greatly obliged." He said to close the subject.

Mr. Whaterfield then invited them to see their modest home. He led them through the rooms, talking about his ancestors, hanging on the wall. Most of them were wealthy merchants or petty nobility. Aemond pretended to be interested.

He shuddered as he saw Miss Whaterfield standing a few paces away, pensive, her face sad and expressionless. He walked closer to her, pretending to get a better look at the books on the large bookcase he was standing in front of. Even with so many people in the room, all he could smell was her scent.

She was driving him crazy.

"Have you stopped praying?" He asked quietly, standing with his back to the rest of the company, so that they would not see that he spoke to her.

She looked at him, surprised by his words, and bowed her head humbly. She was embarrassed to think that he knew she hadn't been in the chapel that night.

That maybe he was waiting for her.

"No. I prayed yesterday for myself and for you in my bed." She said just as quietly.

He looked at her so intensely that she shivered. It took her a second to think about what that sounded like. She blushed, turning her head away. She stared at her hands, pressing her lips together tightly.

For some reason she felt the shivering and warmth between her thighs again, a sticky wetness that made her uncomfortable.

Her sister had once told her that when a woman was happy with her husband she got wet between her thighs, but she didn't understand what she meant. She was afraid to ask about the details, not wanting to be accused of impure thoughts.

For some reason she sensed, or rather knew, that he would like to touch her again. She didn't have to look into his eye. She could feel it in his body posture, hear it in his rapid breathing. She flinched when she heard his voice.

"I'm dizzy. Can you please take me outside?" He asked low. She looked at him shocked and nodded quickly. Her family turned, worried, Mrs. Whaterfield wanted to offer her company or herbs for vertigo.

"No need." He replied coldly. "I'll be right back. I just want to get some air.” He said as he left first, Miss Whaterfield followed him obediently. She led him down the hall and then they went out into their small yard.

Aemond leaned against one of the pillars in the shadows, exhaling softly. Their home was like a hot greenhouse. There was a nice breeze outside, which kept them cool.

Aemond glanced out of the corner of his eye toward the window. He smiled to himself, as he saw her mother watching them shamelessly, not caring that she could be seen. He turned his gaze to Miss Whaterfield, who stood before him, frightened, not knowing what to do with herself.

"Will you pray now only in your bed, miss Whaterfield?" He asked, a note of irony in his voice. She pursed her lips at his words, sighing softly. She knew he was teasing.

"I don't know." She said quietly, looking at her hands. A smirk appeared on his face.

"You don't want to see me anymore?" He asked feisty, his chin lifted high. He wanted to grab her hair and pull her to him. Make her look at him, then put his tongue between her shiny, swollen lips. She looked at him surprised.

"Why does it matter to you, ser Aemond?" She asked resolutely, frowning. He pursed his mouth at her words, involuntarily running his tongue over his lips. He smiled as he saw her gaze immediately fell there.

"On this I base my decision as to how long I will stay here." He grunted lowly, smirking, clasping his hands behind him.

He watched with delight as she froze all over, her mouth parted in disbelief. She didn't know what to say.

"You're playing with me." She said it more as a statement than as a question. He raised his eyebrows at her words.

"I have serious intentions towards you, miss Whaterfield." He said low, looking down at her with a look full of desire that terrified her. She flinched at his words, not understanding what he meant.

She didn't have time to react because her father came out to them, clearly preoccupied with his condition. Criston followed him out of their house, putting on his top hat, thanking Mrs. Whaterfield for her hospitality.

"Are you feeling better already, sir? Do you need anything?" He asked courteously, still pretending that his daughter wasn't even there. Aemond decided to skip both of his questions.

"I want to ask you for your daughter's hand."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @avgdusterfan @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @random-ocity @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @snh96 @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @aemondsfavouritebastard @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @amirawritespoorly @apollonshootafar @bellameshipper

Others: @talesofoldandnew @toodlesxcuddles @padfooteyes @iloveallmyboys

[spiderlandry]

Yes, Chef — ethan landry

Description: The most loving thing one could do is cook for someone else. Ethan finds out it’s your love language.

Pairing: Ethan Landry x GN!Reader

Warnings: implication that reader is shorter than ethan, no ghostface, amber was reader’s ex but it’s only a small mention, lmk if there’s any warnings i should add !! there may be some errors since i only edited this once

Word Count: 3k

Author’s note: i wrote with a poc reader in mind, and much of reader’s experience with cooking is based off my own

Chad is starting to get worried. Exams are in a month, and even though everyone he knows is working hard to prepare, it’s like Ethan is studying as if exams are next week. Chad thinks he can even hear his roommate talking in his sleep sometimes.

He wakes up to Ethan being up at the crack of dawn, a large cup of coffee in hand and deeper bags under his eyes than yesterday.

So, yeah, it’s concerning.

He already tried to coax him into taking more care of himself, but Ethan waves it off. He’s tried other things: getting Sam to scold him, try to get him to go out and party so he’ll get tired, having Quinn threaten him.

If nothing happens, he may resort to putting sleeping pills in Ethan’s coffee.

However, there is one more thing.

You.

Ever since Ethan was introduced to the rest of his friends which included you, he’d been paying more attention to his appearance and how he’s perceived. At first Chad thought he might’ve had a crush on Tara, but Ethan slipped up one time when he not very casually asked if you were going to a group hangout, a few weeks ago.

Chad can use that knowledge to his advantage, he realizes.

Knowing you since freshman year of high-school, you’re a naturally caring person, though can be quiet or a little closed off especially since the Woodsboro murders in which you discovered that your ex-girlfriend was one of the killers.

Your gentle nature, along with his crush, can surely save Ethan from burning himself out so much that he’ll show up to finals only a skeleton, right? Hopefully.

Chad prays he’s right as he sends you a text, Friday evening.

Chad

Hey, can I ask a favor

                    depends

Might be a little weird but u know how ethan has been studying rly hard?

                    yeah u said u were worried. is he ok?

Yeah he’s fine mostly. Im just worried so Im asking if you can

like

Ask him to hang out or something

                    ? why

                     not that i would mind but why

Youre the one he would say yes to I already tried other stuff to get him to relax but man looks like hes about to pass out

Idk I have a feeling its more than about school but its not my place and I think he would open up to u

You know he has a crush on u right

                      i dont believe u but ill do it

Bro dont even act like u dont like him too

                      shut up

You roll your eyes at your phone, already coming up with a plan for a way to get Ethan to chill out. That’s when you think of it.

Ethan allows himself to sleep in during the weekends. But when he wakes up at 11 AM to a text from you that was sent at six, he immediately regrets it.

He opens his phone to read it.

hey i have this new recipe i wanna try but i need a second opinion

wanna come over after work? i get off at 5

He rubs his eyes, making sure he’s reading it right. You? Inviting him? To come over to your place alone?

He’s not proud of the way he gapes at the message for a long moment before he can answer, responding with a ‘sure!’ despite the word not conveying his excitement mixed with the worry at the pit of his stomach. Why are you inviting him alone? He can’t let himself think that it’s anything other than friendliness, right? But you only invited him, so it must mean something.

He rushes to his closet to pick out his outfit, already forgetting about the unfinished page of notes on his desk.

Ethan has known you for a good few months, since the beginning of the school year. But at this point, he’s memorized your smile and your voice, becoming less subtle as time goes on. He pays attention to every single thing you’ve said about yourself, including but not limited to how you almost went to culinary school. He remembers how you once baked a cake for Tara’s birthday, not only the batter from scratch but also the buttercream frosting. He smiles at the memory of you showing the group how to make pasta one night.

To say he’s excited is an understatement.

He doesn’t even bother getting his coffee this time so his breath doesn’t smell like it.

Chad notices that Ethan’s usual cup is still in the cupboard, mentally patting himself on the back for getting the idea to reach out to you.

It’s not long until it’s almost five, and Ethan is walking the few blocks over to your apartment, enjoying the wind. He knows not to show up empty handed, so he stops at a bodega to buy your favourite chips.

You‘d gotten home a little early due to your workplace not being too busy, thankfully. You start prep, laying out the ingredients. The knock from your door reaches your ears a few minutes later, and knowing it’s Ethan you open the door.

You’re greeted with a bag of chips to your face, taking it and seeing Ethan have a slight upturn at the corner of his lips. You mirror his expression, albeit with a wider smile (you can’t help it), letting him into your apartment. He sits down at the breakfast bar facing into the kitchen, while you stand on the other side facing him.

This isn’t the first time he’s been here, but it is the first time he’s here alone. With you. He tried to get rid of the images in his head of him being over at your place every day because you want him to be there. He can’t think like that, not now when you’re beaming up at him while you showcase the ingredients on the kitchen counter, your sentences going into one ear and out the other.

“…Ethan?” Your brows are furrowed, not knowing if he’s paying attention. You quickly catch that he’s not—he has to think for a moment about what to say.

“Uhm—“ he clears his throat. “Sorry, I wasn’t listening. What?” He mentally cringes at himself. He’s sure you’d think he’s not interested and oh god, what if you think he doesn’t want to be there?

You laugh lightly. “I said do you like steak? I mean, I probably should’ve asked, but—“ You’re glad he stops your ramble before it goes any further.

“I like it, don’t—don’t worry.”

“Okay, good. Because this would’ve been awkward.”

Ethan is determined not to let any weird silences happen, so he continues despite not knowing what to say. His curiosity gets the best of him. “Not that I don’t want to, but why did you invite me here? I mean…just me.”

You try to brush it off, coming up with an excuse. “I invited Tara, but she couldn’t make it.” You turn back to the ingredients to get started.

He’s glad you’re not facing him to see his shoulders practically deflate finding out that he’s not the first choice. He’s not sure why he got his hopes up so much.

Before he can say anything else, you interrupt his train of thought. “Wanna help?”

He stands up quickly, eager. “What do you need?”

Truthfully, you’d made this dish a thousand times before that you could do it in your sleep. You’re not about to try anything new when your main objective is to take Ethan’s mind off things.

“How are you with knives?” You ask, taking out a chef’s knife from the knife holder. His eyes widen, begrudgingly taking the object from your hand.

“This is gonna sound—nevermind,” He shakes his head.

“Tell me.”

“I’ve never had to…cook before.”

“Oh,” you sigh. “That’s fine. Do you not want the knife?”

“I do! I just—how do I use it?”

You smile, an image he wishes was burned into his mind. You slide the cutting board toward you, putting a handful of asparagus in the middle.

Ethan can’t help but stare at your hand at the way you delicately go through the motions of cutting, slowly to make sure he sees it. You show him how to trim the asparagus, and you give him back the knife to try.

A spark tingles throughout his hand when you put yours on it to guide him.

“Just trim all of these. Got it?”

He nods.

You prepare the steak on a separate cutting board alongside him.

“Can I ask why you’ve been studying so hard, E?”

The nickname isn’t lost on him, but he tries his best to ignore it before he accidentally cuts himself.

“Finals next month,” He says curtly.

“Is that the truth?”

“Does it matter?”

“It does to me. But I’m not trying to force you.”

He pauses. “Can we change the topic?”

You nod, “You pick. Turns out I’m terrible at conversation. Can you fill up a pot of water for the mini potatoes? And put some salt in it.”

“How long have you been cooking?” He puts the asparagus in the bowl they were previously in and doing as you say. With the way he gets the question out so fast, you’d think he’d been thinking about it.

“As a kid, I was around a lot of people who knew how to cook,” you begin while you prepare a pan on the stove, melting the butter. “I learned from them. International dishes, mainly. Lots of spices. But I moved to New York and started working in a kitchen when I was sixteen, so I learned about some European pastries and white people food.” You chuckle.

There’s something with the way you talk about food that makes his chest warm. It’s unfamiliar, but a welcome feeling nonetheless. It’s different from how you talk about other things—this one feels more intimate.

You continue. “I think you know, but I almost went to culinary school.”

He does know. He wonders why you didn’t go.

“I took cooking classes as an elective at my high-school. I was lucky they offered that. Senior year, I was a stage for some really pretentious restaurants—y’know, mainly as a server, but I got to know how the kitchen worked.”

He hasn’t even noticed that the butter is almost all melted on the pan and you’ve put some rosemary and thyme on it until you pause to turn to him.

You grab the cutting board with the steak on it, placing it next to the stove.

“They were the kinds of places that served small portions for high prices.” You stared at the stove, turning up the heat.

“Why didn’t you go to culinary school?” He timidly asks.

“The people,” You say it so quietly at first that he almost missed it. “I met people who made the kitchen pretty much unbearable. There was shouting…lots of it, actually. The crazy high standards. They didn’t shout at me, but seeing it from the sidelines was worse…somehow? I don’t know.”

He finds himself wanting to have a stern word with whoever made you feel that way about something you so clearly love.

He’s about to ask another question before you interrupt him.

You pick up the steak from the board, motioning for him to come closer. “Always lay away from you,” you say. “Otherwise you splash oil on yourself, ‘kay?”

He nods. He continues with his question. “Do you regret it?”

He doesn’t realize how heavy of a question it is until after he says it, and he’s going to retract his statement but you respond.

“No, actually, I don’t.”

There’s a sweetness in your voice that’s hard to catch, but for Ethan’s ears, it’s as if they’ve been attuned to your tone.

“If I went to culinary school, I would’ve started to hate it—“ You grab the tongs, using it to push the sides of the steak to the pan, “—That’s searing. You seal in the juices when the surface browns, see that?—“

When he nods, you proceed.

“I grew up believing that cooking was a way to care about people, you know? Like a love language. And If I made cooking my career, that’s not what it would be for me. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, yeah. It does.”

Once all the sides are seared, you grab a spoon and you slightly tilt the pan, using the utensil to coat the steak in the melted butter. “That’s basting. So it doesn’t lose moisture. Every time you flip a steak, it loses moisture, so just do it once.”

He thinks he’s getting repetitive when he nods once more to show that he’s actually listening.

It’s not long until the steak is done, and he’s excited to get it on the plate but instead, you put it on a baking sheet and cover it in tin foil.

“You’re next.”

His head snaps up toward you, sputtering, “What?”

“Do you want to learn?”

“Yeah—“

“Then get to work.” You smirk, and he’d be lying if he said that didn’t awaken something in him. You point to the other steak in the packaging.

He tries to remember the steps you did, but you do have to remind him what to do occasionally.

You’re standing close to him, almost hovering, but he doesn’t mind one bit. In fact, he almost leans in instinctively when you bring your hand up to his face and pushes his curls out of his face.

“You’re doing good,” you whisper.

It takes everything inside him not to collapse right there. He’d give everything to feel your hand on his face again.

You’ve set two plates on the counter. The mini potatoes were boiled nicely, and you cut them swiftly in half (a feast for Ethan’s eyes). Ethan watches while you quietly as you carefully plate the food, and he can’t help but look around him. The used pan, the knives, cutting boards, you plating the food—there’s an element of domesticity.

It’s in the way you flash a smile directed at him and only him, in the comfort of your own home, after you’ve just cooked together. He imagines a future where it’s like this every night.

You open the fridge, grabbing out two sodas. As you turn around Ethan is surprisingly close to you.

Only a few inches away.

He slowly takes the cans from you, setting it on the space next to him. All as if he’s about to wake a sleeping dragon if he were to move too quickly.

“Why are you doing this?” He asks, almost in a pleading whisper. His eyes are boring into yours, and you can’t bring yourself to look away.

“I told you.” Your tone mirrors his. “Cooking is a way to take care of someone, and I care about you.”

He doesn’t know what possesses him to do the next thing.

He brings himself closer to you, not breaking the eye contact.

Suddenly, everything makes itself known. Your breathing, shallower than his, anticipating his next move. The way your clothes touch. The cold air coming from the fridge.

He brings his hand to touch your jaw, it’s a feather-like sensation as his digits make contact with your skin. “Is this okay?”

You gulp and nod, unable to find the words.

“Need to hear you say it.”

In the lowest whisper, “Yes.”

He lifts your chin, tilting his head.

It’s a tiny pause until you’re the one taking the leap, closing the small distance and slotting your lips against his.

Everything falls away, and nothing else matters. His lips are soft. You feel his large hands go to your neck and you wrap your arms around his torso, trying to get impossibly closer.

You’re the first to pull away and you grin when he chases your lips.

“Hi,” You beam. “W—what was that for?”

“You tell me,” he smiles.

You anticipate the night to end when you’re both finished the food and the drinks, and you’ve cleaned up the kitchen.

But neither of you want it to end.

You cross your arms, facing Ethan who’s reluctantly about to open the door.

“Wanna stay?”

He turns around, tilting his head like a cute puppy. “Thought you’d never ask.”

That’s how you found yourselves cuddling on the couch, a new show on your television.

“I have to tell you something,” you whisper, eyes still on the screen.

“Hm?”

“Chad told me to ask you to hang out.” You grimace. “And before you say anything, I didn’t invite you just because of him. I was worried about you too.” You look up at him, the proximity comfortable rather than awkward.

“I figured.”

“Really?”

His arm tightens around you. “When you asked me why I was studying so hard, I remembered Chad’s been trying to get me out of it. This was his last resort.”

You snort, “His last resort was putting sleeping pills in your coffee.”

“I’m…gonna have to talk to him about that.”

“Can I ask why you’re studying?”

“To distract myself.”

You almost sit up. “From what?”

“Not tonight.” He lays your head against him again, and your trust is in his hands. “Someday.”

And someday, he’ll tell the story about how the week before, he realized he loved you. It scared him so much that it kept him up for days, but the night you kissed would be the day his worries all went away.

[lizzieislife94x]

7 Minutes In Heaven (w.m)

WandaxG!P Reader

 Just to keep the book updated If you have a request message me babes.

Y/ns POV:

"Who wants another drink?" I yell as I walk towards the bar hearing a chorus of no thank yous I turn to double check "definitely no one wants a drink I'm not getting back up" I laugh as I grab a beer I scan the group and catch eyes with wanda she's so fucking beautiful I've never had the courage to make a move the rest of our friends know I'm head over heels for her but I just can't find the courage "can I have a beer please" she says a trace of her accent seeping through I smile and grab an extra beer opening both walking back over to sit down "here you go wanda" I say getting a little shy as she smiles "thank you y/n" I smile and look around "ok Tony what ridiculous games have you got planned tonight" Natasha smirks leaning back into the couch beer in hand making me laugh "well since you asked I was actually thinking of 7 minutes in heaven unless yall are scared, simple rules you spin the bottle whoever it lands on you take to the closest minimum is kissing you can't just stand there awkwardly otherwise you have to drink a disgusting alcoholic mixture of my making" he explains as if we're dumb "ok old man we get it" I state making wanda giggle "I'm not going first " Bruce exclaimed no surprise there "I'll go first " Sam yells excitedly, I take a drink as the bottle spins we all watch intensely as it slows and lands on Maria "ohhh shit" we all yell laughing as they walk to the closet and the timer is started I decided to talk to wanda to waste the time

"I know you've been here like 10 months now but how are you settling in" she smiles getting a little closer to me "yeah it's OK I love this weird family we all have it makes me feel safe the people here make me feel safe" she whispers with a blush "times up guys get out" Tony yells as we all look at them fixing their clothes and whistle  "my turn" wanda says looking at me then the bottle as it spins I sit and pray it lands on me because no matter what happens I can blame the game but still get to at least kiss her "Y/N and wanda woo hooo get your asses in the closest " Tony yells snapping me out of my thoughts as I look up shocked "wait what happened" I look around then down at the bottle pointed at me I look at wanda and whisper "if your not comfortable with this it's OK I'll take Tony's poisoned concoction" she smiles and stands up grabbing my hand I guess she's OK with it we make our way to the closet as the door closes behind us. 

"We don't have to do anything ill just pretend we made out" I whisper rubbing her arm "oh believe me I want to do this" she whispers as she leans in locking her lips against mine making me moan at the feeling as butterfly's fill my stomach I slide my hand down to her waist pulling her flat against me deepening the kiss as my tounge explores her mouth after a minute we break away "that was amazing" I whisper leaning my head against hers "yes it was" she grabs my tee and pulls me back in for a kiss as my hands roam down to her ass "is this ok" I mumble against her lips making her giggle "fuck yes " I smirk and squeeze her ass pulling her against me as my bulge starts to grow she looks up at me biting her lip "are you..hard" I blush and hide my face not saying anything "y/n it's OK I like it" I bite my lip and lean in to kiss her again "times up love birds" Tony and Nat yell as the door is pulled open making us turn to look at their smirking faces "wait that was 7 minutes" I groan making wanda giggle we walk out as I try to discreetly fix my bulge, I sit on the couch a little uncomfortable as wanda walks over sitting on my lap smirking she leans into whisper in my ear "the other seats are taken hope this is ok" I bite my lip and nod "its more than ok but might be a little uncomfortable my little friend isn't listening to me" I whisper making her bite her lip "I know I can feel it makes this seat the best in the house" I feel myself getting harder at her words,

we continue to drink and laugh as the night goes on "hey I'm gonna head to bed feeling a little tired" I lie earning a few raised eye brows "oh you know what me to I feel so tired" wanda says with a fake yawn we both get up and walk upstairs towards wandas room "thank god I thought we'd never get to be alone" she whispers as we walk into her room I grab her waist pulling her into me smashing my lips against hers in a bruising kiss making us both moan I pick her up walking towards the bed gently throwing her on the mattress as she giggles looking at me "please just fuck me I've spent the last 2 hours being teased by your dick I could feel everything" she moans as I start to undress wanda following my lead leaving us both in our underwear

"fuck wanda you're so beautiful " I say as I climb over her leaving kisses along her jaw earning quite moans "no you are y/n" she says sitting up as she runs her finger tips down my stomach towards my boxers "look at that bulge you look huge"she whispers as she slowly slides them down making me kick them off she gasps as my cock springs out to action "mmmh fuck" she breaths making me smirk I groan as she wraps her hand around my cock moving her hand slowly her eyes never leaving mine "uh fuck wanda just like that feels so good" I groan as she words her hand faster making me lean my head back at the pleasure I pull away making her look at me confused "I'd rather be inside you right now baby I've been so horny since your lips landed on mine" I lean down kissing her stomach as I pull her panties off slowly my eyes instantly going to her cunt making me groan "fuck" I moan as I run my finger through her wet folds making her moan trying to grind against my finger "mhh such a needy girl" I smirk pulling my finger away "please daddy" I look at her and groan as the words leave her mouth I quickly flip her onto her stomach gripping her hips bringing her ass up I rub my hands over her ass taking in the sight "fuck wanda" I moan as I rub my cock through her dripping folds earning a whimper from the redhead "please daddy don't tease me" I lick my lips and gently start pushing into her groaning at how tight she is "fuck yes" she moans as I sink deep inside her making her gasp "you're doing so well babygirl" I gently rub her back as I stay completely still letting her adjust to the size "you can move now" she breaths out I start to thrust slowly gripping her hips making us both moan she grips the sheets "fuck daddy faster please" I grip her hips thrusting faster and harder the sounds of our skin slapping together filling the room"uhh fuck wanda so fucking good" I moan thrusting harder and faster I grip her hair pulling her up gently so her backs against my chest I wrap my arms around her chest playing with her nipple as I continue my brutal pounding turning her into a moan mess "mmmm mmmmh" is all I hear I pull almost all the way out just to slam back in repeating my actions she opens her mouth as a silent scream leaves her mouth I slide my hand up to her throat and squeeze gently "mhh cum for me babygirl be a good girl for daddy" I feel her walls tighten around my cock as I continue to thrust faster I feel my orgasm approach as I slam deep inside her and cum with a loud moan pulling her closer to me kissing her jaw as we both come down from our highs "holy fuck wanda that was amazing" I say as I slide out of her slowly earning a moan I quickly run to the bathroom getting a damp cloth "y/n what are you doing" she says sleepy "getting a cloth to clean you wanda" she smiles as I clean her gently not to over stimulate her "stay with me please" she whispers as I finish cleaning myself "of course wanda anything for you" I smile climbing into bed as she cuddles into my drawing shapes on my chest "I've wanted to kiss you for the longest time" i confess quietly "me to y/n " she whispers with a yawn I pull her closer to me as we drift off into a peaceful sleep. 

AN: just a little update to keep the book updated If you have any requests message me they are appreciated haha, word count is 1.6k

[hearts4golbach]

The Night Shift.

Johnnie Guilbert x Fem!Reader.

Chapter 22.

my head pounded as i dug through my bag, praying i had some sort of pain killer in that damn thing. unfortunately, i didn't have shit. i leaned against the counter and texted johnnie.

me: johnniee

me: Are you up?

johnnie: yeah babe what's up

me: Are you coming tonight?

johnnie: Of course

me: Would you mind bringing something for my headache? it's starting out to be a terrible night, lol

johnnie: yeah ill head that way soon :)

me: Thank youuu

i turned off my phone. the bell on the door rang, and i greeted the customer. "Welcome in. what can i get for you?" Hearing the same repetitive phrase angered me tonight, way more than any other night. i cleared my throat in an attempt to calm myself down.

"Can i get a latte, please?" the girl requested.

i hummed. i turned around towards the espresso machine. i packed it and slid the container into the slot. i pressed the on button, expecting it to work, but it didn't. "you've got to be fucking kidding me." i said under my breath, hoping the customer didn't hear. i turned back around. "im so sorry, the espresso machine is broken."

"Oh, no worries!" she gave me an awkward smile before looking up at the menu.  "Can i get a medium vanilla cream hot coffee?"

"yes ma'am, so sorry for the inconvenience." i picked up the coffee pot, which i had made a fresh batch not long before she had come in.

she finally received her drink. she paid and left, leaving me alone in the cafe once more. i poured myself a cup of cold water and chugged it, hoping it'd dull the pain.

i discovered that the espresso machine had just unplugged, but it was still a bitch to plug back in. i opened the cabinet and moved the extra bags of coffee beans. the plugs were in the very back of the cabinets. i was torso deep into the cabinets, trying to fish the cord out from behind the small opening in the back of it whenever johnnie walked out.

i heard a chuckle slip out of his lips. "You okay over there?"

"Yeah, just trying to plug something in." i mutter as i finally reconnect everything.

i stand up and turn to find johnnie holding a small bouquet of about 5 light pink and white tulips. i purse my lips and try to hold back tears.

"Awe, it's okay, y/n." he smiled softly, coming behind the counter to hug me. i held onto him tightly, feeling as if some of my problems had washed away. he rubbed my lower back and pulled a small container of painkillers out of his back pocket. "Here are those, if you wanna take them real quick."

he kept one arm wrapped around my waist as i did. "Thank you so much," i pecked his lips, "im so glad you're here."

he pulled up a chair behind the counter to sit with me, "What's been going on?"

"It's just that nothing seems to be working. It's just been a weird night. i have a massive headache, and my temper is super short tonight. of course, the thing was unplugged, so i had to fix that. but im only an hour into the shift, and i know the rest of the night is going to be shit." i rambled, dreading the following hours.

"Can i help around the store again? maybe that'll take some shit off of your shoulders." he offered. "What all do you have to do tonight?"

"Well, take orders, obviously. i need to sweep and mop out here and go do the last of the day shift dishes, then i need to wipe down all the counters and tables. we need to take down the valentines decorations, too." i listed off all of the main tasks that came to mind.

"Where's the broom?" he asked with zero hesitation.

"Since you really wanna help, the broom is in the closet right over there." i pointed to my right, "but really, you dont have to help."

"i wanna help, love." he replied before taking out the broom and beginning to sweep the floors.

the next hour worth of orders went smoothly. surprisingly, tonight was a busier night than usual. i decided to stop complaining, as i was getting more money, the more people that came in. johnnie then wiped off all the tables and counters, leaving them spotless.

"youre actually the best." i called from across the cafe. he smiled and gave me a thumbs up before returning to the last few tables.

"You ready to take the decorations down?" he asked, wiping his forehead after tossing the dirty rag in the dirty bin.

"Yeah, let's do it." i climbed up on his shoulders, figuring it'd be best to get the hard shit to take down out of the way first.

"There's a party me and jake were invited to this weekend. Do you wanna come with me? i think tara is going, too." johnnies thumb gently rubbed my thigh.

"Uh, obviously," i stuttered. i tossed the small stack of heart cutouts onto the floor before moving on to the next one. "Why wouldn't i want to go?"

he shrugged. "i dunno."

"My parents are coming to town soon. i told my mother about you, and she wants to meet you." i mentioned. i was anxious for his response. "Do you want to?"

"Uh, yeah? of course i fucking do." he giggled.

i sighed, "i just need to warn you, im not sure if she'll like you. she's very judgemental."

"Then I'll earn it. dont worry, y/n."

"You'll earn her liking you?" i raised my eyebrow even though he couldn't see.

"Yeah, I'll find a way." he patted my upper thigh.

after i picked the last heart off of the wall, i got off of his shoulders. he placed a soft kiss on my lips. i replied, "im sure you will."

[mrcowboydeanwinchester]

The Angel locked away in a broom closet inside my brain

s14 dean poem for when michael is stuck in his brain and fighting to get out. but it's also about a sickness that stays with you. and it's about wanting to get better. so it's a s14 dean x chronic illness poem

transcript under cut:

i've got an Angel locked away in a broom closet inside my brain. It tried to possess me. i didn't like what It was doing and we decided better in than out so now It's staying in there. Staying put. i can hear It rattling to get out now and It's so loud. There's a foreign body in my brain and my whole being is fighting against It. Something alien inside of me and It wants to hurt me but i don't know how to get It out. Don't think It can ever come out. i went to the doctor about It and he told me It was anxiety. i think It's going to kill me. The Angel locked away in a broom closet inside my brain makes everything hard. Too loud for sleeping too stiff for eating too tired for running. i walk everywhere now. i lay down a lot. Pray to god to come get his bitch. Answer machine only and the Angel just laughs. i want to get coffee with my lover and the Angel is saying no. Some days i weigh up the pros and cons. Sometimes i think the coffee is worth it. These are the times before the Angel possesses me again and the times when there are no consequences. When there are consequences and the Angel possesses me it is not worth it. i am starting to learn it is never worth it. i wish it was. i want to live life on the edge. i remember the edge i lived on before the Angel. I listened to my body and it was quiet and mine and I swam in the sea whenever I wanted. Now i just drown. i think It's going to keep killing me. i want the Angel gone. i wish the Angel had decided to possess someone else. But It possessed me. But today i decided it was worth it and went out to coffee with my lover and nothing bad happened. Sometimes i remember what being alive feels like and today was one of those days. i hope tomorrow is too. Every day the Angel locked away in a broom closet inside my brain hurts me. And i tell myself to get the coffee with my lover anyway, even though it is never worth it.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

aita for ghosting 2 of my closet friends?

TL;DR: 2 of my closest/longest friendships ive had were ended by me stopping any and all communication, either unprompted or prompted. i dont feel any urge to talk with these people again, and i do not want to rekindle these friendships.

i (19ftm) have had only 2 friendships were i would consider the other person a "best friend". the first one was when i was in middle school (12-13). this other person, we'll call K(at the time 13F). now back in middle school i was what would be considered as the cool kids say: Cringe. super obsessed with undertale AND homestuck, a big 1-2 punch.

i met K through our homeroom class, and we really hit it off well. she was funny, great at art, and also loved undertale (she was the one who actually got me into homestuck, but thats besides the point). we hung out constantly, always chatting and swapping art tips, that sorta thing.

when i moved schools in 7th grade we became distance friends. not long distance bc we lived 30 min. away from each other, but we didn't get to see each other everyday anymore. eventually we started dating, but i didnt really feel content w the relationship at the time (i didnt know i was trans/gay yet lol).

one day i told her i was taking a break from social media/discord for a while until i sorted myself out, and then i would be back. i never spoke with her again after that and i felt like shit for years for ghosting my at the time girlfriend. i didnt take the break with the intention of ghosting K, it just kinda happened. she deleted her discord and i don't remember her tumblr so i have no way of communicating w her anymore. we knew each other for about 3-4 years, and dated for about half of that.

my other friend we'll call T(ftm). I met T my freshman year, when i was 14. T is 2 years older than me, so he was 16 at the time, a sophomore. T and i really hit it off well, and we hung out all the time after school, and talked over discord daily. he did a lot for me ill be honest, and helped me through an identity crisis when i realized i was trans and also gay.

however, when T graduated he started to drift away. i was still a junior at the time but we stayed in contact the best we could. i started driving so i would visit him in his apartment on weekends. however things really nose dived my senior year. i was 17-18 and all my friends had graduated, so i was already feeling pretty alone.

i kept trying to find comfort in T but he just kinda faded away. he found a new friend group of ppl closer to his age and they started hanging out more. i knew some of these people from our school, and was even friends w one of them, but for some reason he insisted on keeping me separate from them.

things boiled over when our mutual friend from this new friend group decided to throw a halloween party, but had to cancel last minute. time skip to november 1st and im picking up T to go rollerskating, and to my surprise he hops in my car out of breath and says "sorry it took so long, i was cleaning up after a halloween party!" and went on about this party he threw the night before with all his friends from the other group. T explained to me that he didn't invite me bc "i wouldn't know any of them".

i was pissed. really pissed. i stopped making plans to hang out with him, but to my surprise so did he. we stopped chatting daily, and the last time we spoke was april of last year. i sent him a final message in may trying to spark another conversation but he never replied. so i gave up. i stopped talking to him.

then i realized the pattern of me growing extremely close with someone only to ghost them. i know T basically ghosted me but i also stopped putting in the effort so i feel i still hold some of the blame. even when i last saw T in person i avoided him like the plague, and i just pray that if we do see each other again he does NOT recognize me.

What are these acronyms?

[scribeforchrist-blog]

Firm In God Through My Suffering 

MEMORY VERSE OF THE WEEK

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+ 1 Corinthians 13:3 If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing.

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VERSE OF THE DAY 

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+  1 Peter 5:9 But resist him, firm in your faith, knowing that the same experiences of suffering are being accomplished by your brethren who are in the world."

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** SAY THIS BEFORE YOU READ; HERE’S SOME CHRISTIAN TRUTHS **

I AM NOT AFRAID

I AM LISTENING

I AM MIGHTY

I AM STRONG

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READ TIME: 9 Minutes & 18 Seconds

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THOUGHTS:

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   When we are ill, it's hard to pray. I can remember I had got COVID, and I remember hearing from other people that it’s the worst feeling you ever want to feel and that you don’t want to do anything. I was like, no, that won’t happen to me. I will pray regardless of how I feel, and I remember waking up one morning. I went into my prayer closet, and all I could do was sit, and I said to the Holy Spirit I don’t know what's happening, but I feel so drained and tired, and he told me to go lay down, and I laid down got back up I felt even worst.

    I prayed in tongues, while laying down that’s all I could do was talk to God about my illness and how I was feeling slowly

started losing my ability to breathe, after a few days, I felt like I was dying, and I said to the Holy Spirit I don’t want to die; please help me, and I felt this warmth come over my body.

  I started feeling better immediately, which lasted about seven days. I felt terrible I was alone I couldn’t call my parents because they were  in the hospital, and my other siblings I didn't want them to come over because I didn’t want them to get this from me, so I stayed alone, but as I got through that, I realized I wasn't alone I had the Holy Spirit and that every moment I couldn’t breathe and every moment I felt alone I didn’t go through alone he went with me.

  The guy we will look at today his name is Hezekiah, and he was very ill 2 Kings 20:1 In those days, Hezekiah became ill. And Isaiah the prophet, the son of Amoz, came to him and said to him, “This is what the Lord says: ‘Set your house in order, for you are going to die and not live.’” 

   God wanted him to know to get his house in order, and sometimes God will tell us this to help us prepare; sometimes we need to get our house in order not because we are going to die but because our lives are out of order and God wants to place it in order and a lot of us don’t have it in order because we feel we have time or we are think I’m in perfect health , we don’t think what’s in our daily life that we could be doing that he’s asking us to get in order , but the bible tell us we aren’t promised tomorrow. Our life is a vape. Those of us who keep playing around with getting and building a relationship with God are losing light daily. Every day, we must build with him to grow with him.

  Verse 2-3 Then he turned his face to the wall and prayed to the Lord, saying, “Please, Lord, just remember how I have walked before You wholeheartedly and in truth, and have done what is good in Your sight!” And Hezekiah wept profusely.

    Hezekiah wasn’t taking no for an answer. He was going to battle for his life, almost like Jacob. Jacob didn’t let go of the angel of God because he wanted a blessing, and Hezekiah wasn’t letting his life go that quickly. He was honest with God. He asked if God could remembered how faithful he was. “Do you remember me walking with you and being wholehearted and living in the truth”, and he said, I did everything well in your sight”. He cried, and he let all of it out in front of God, and that’s what we must do during our prayer time : pray the sincerest prayers. We don’t have to be sick or hurt to do this. We could want to express our feelings, and he will hear and help us through our pain. 

  Verse 4-6 And even before Isaiah had left the middle courtyard, the word of the Lord came to him, saying,5 “Return and say to Hezekiah, the leader of My people, ‘This is what the Lord, the God of your father David says: “I have heard your prayer, I have seen your tears; behold, I am going to heal you. On the third day, you shall go up to the house of the Lord. And I will add fifteen years to your life, and I will save you and this city from the hand of the king of Assyria, and I will protect this city for My own sake and My servant David’s sake.”’

   See, God heard him and fixed his problem. God wants to fix our problems. He wants to hear us, but we must go to him with a contrite heart and say, father

I know this is your plan, but please allow me this. When we do this, he will grant us so much time, grace, and mercy. Still, everything doesn’t always happen like this, but when it does, we must be so grateful for everything the Holy Spirit wants us to know. Even in our trials, even in our pain, he's there, but he wants to hear us speak the words.

  We must learn to allow ourselves to come to him; we talked about being raw with our feelings and thoughts yesterday, but we must do this. In a respectful way, God is who made us every mark, every flaw we have comes from God, and he can take our flaws and show us who is he, how many of us are ready to let go during our time of pain and sorrow God wants us to know he loves us and that he sees our pain, even during our pain God wants us to know we don’t stand alone , that he’s standing with us.

   1 Peter 5:9 But resist him, firm in your faith, knowing that the same experiences of suffering are being accomplished by your brethren who are in the world."

  Other people are going through, and we aren’t alone in our problems. I thought I was alone when I had Covid, but God had to show me you were not alone. I am with you; it’s others going through these very things like you; we must stand firm in our faith, knowing that we serve a God that sees us, we serve a God that’s all-knowing, we serve a God that is willing to show us the way if we are willing to go down the right path with him. 

  Jeremiah 6:16 This is what the Lord says: “Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for the ancient paths, ask where the good way is, and walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls. But you said, ‘We will not walk in it.’”

    Wherever we are in life, if it’s a crossroad or just a moment in our life happening God is there; sometimes he shows us the way, and we are too stubborn or stuck in our ways that we don’t want to walk in the way of the lord; we think our way is better but when we are scared, and we feel overwhelmed sometimes we allow fear to speak louder than God but we must silence fear with the word of God, don’t allow your fear to take you to a place that you don’t want to be , do exactly like Hezekiah and allow your fear to take the back seat and trust in God.

   ***Today, we learned that our fears and what we deal with can take us down the wrong road.  Fear is meant to do this; fear is of the devil, and a lot of times, we allow him to take the driver's seat because it’s easier this way, but God wants us to know that his way will always be easier when we don’t surrender to fear and to the enemy.

  Joshua 1:9 Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.”

   He’s asking us in this to be strong and not be fearful because wherever we go, he’s there; we might not see him like we see family and friends, but if we sit still and focus on him, we will feel his presence, a lot of times we are so busy with day to day life that we don’t feel him because we are looking over him at all times, take the time today to focus on God. ©Seer~ Prophetess Lee

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PRAYER

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Heavenly Father, please help us not to fear; lord, help us to depend on you. Lord, we ask you to release us from the fear that has succumbed to our lives. Lord, we ask you to comfort us through everything; lord, help us also to have faith in you. Many of us are confused about what to do; please let us hear you and apply the word to our lives. Lord, let this word break yokes and chains in our lives today. In Jesus' Name Amen 

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REFERENCES 

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+ Proverbs 29:25 The fear of man lays a snare, but whoever trusts the Lord is safe.

 

+ 2 Timothy 1:7 For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control.

 

+ Psalm 34:4 I sought the Lord, who answered me and delivered me from all my fears.

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FURTHER READINGS 

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Proverbs 2

Leviticus 2

Psalm 59

Isaiah 17

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