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frmartinshomiliesandreflections · 2 years ago

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11th January >> Fr. Martin’s Gospel Reflections / Homilies on Mark 1:29-39 for Wednesday, First Week in Ordinary Time: ‘Everybody is looking for you’.

Wednesday, First Week in Ordinary Time

Reflections (5)

(i) Wednesday, First Week in Ordinary Time

There is a striking statement about Jesus at the end of today’s first reading, ‘because he has himself been through temptation, he is able to help others who are tempted’. We are familiar with the story of the temptation of Jesus in the wilderness, following on from his baptism. These were temptations he probably had to deal with throughout his public ministry. At one point Peter tempted him to avoid taking a path that would inevitably lead to suffering and death, and Jesus had to say to Peter, ‘Get behind me, Satan’. In today’s gospel reading, we find Jesus being tempted by Simon Peter again. Jesus had spent the day healing the sick and the broken in Capernaum, including healing Simon Peter’s mother-in-law of her fever. Early the following morning, Jesus went off by himself to a lonely place to pray. However, Simon Peter and his companions went looking for him and when they found him they said, ‘Everybody is looking for you’. In other words, ‘Why are you out here on your own praying when there is more work to be done in Capernaum?’ It was a subtle temptation, because there was much indeed more healing work to be done in Capernaum, good work, God’s work. Yet, Jesus knew that he needed to spent time in prayer with God his Father. It was God who would direct his mission, not Simon Peter or the people of Capernaum, and when he came from his prayer Jesus knew that he must move on to other towns. We are all tempted as Jesus was. Like Jesus, we can be tempted by others to do what seems good but is not God’s desire for us. Because Jesus was tempted, he can help us when we are tempted. That is why we need to go to prayer, as Jesus did, because it in in prayer that we open ourselves to the help the Lord can give us when we are tempted.

And/Or

(ii) Wednesday, First Week in Ordinary Time

In the first part of the gospel reading this morning, people bring Jesus to Simon Peter’s mother-in-law who was in bed with a fever, in Capernaum. In the second part of the gospel people bring all who were sick in Capernaum to Jesus. In both cases people mediated between Jesus and those who needed him. We can see in that an image of our own calling to bring Jesus to others and to bring others to Jesus. The Lord looks to all of us to mediate between himself and others. If the Lord is to get his work done, he needs all of us. In the third part of the gospel reading, Jesus’ disciples try to bring Jesus back to Capernaum. ‘Everyone is looking for you’, they said. Yet, on this occasion, Jesus refused to go with them, because he had other places to visit, ‘Let us go elsewhere’, he said. Yes, people could bring Jesus to others and bring others to Jesus, but they were not in control of him. Jesus was subject only to his heavenly Father, and his disciples had to learn to submit to him, to go after him, rather than insisting that he go after them. That too is an important part of our calling. We need to yield to what the Lord wants to do and is doing; we are not in control or in charge of the Lord’s work. Rather we try to allow the Lord to do his work in and through us. It remains his work rather than ours. It is above all in prayer that we attend to the Lord of the work, so that we can do the work of the Lord.

And/Or

(iii) Wednesday, First Week in Ordinary Time

There are two quite different activities of Jesus presented in this morning’s gospel reading. The first is the activity of healing. Jesus heals Simon Peter’s mother-in-law in the house of Simon and Andrew by taking her by the hand and lifting her up, and then goes on to heal many sick people who were brought to the door of the house. This healing activity of Jesus is very public and is greatly appreciated by everyone; the whole town came crowding around the door, according to Mark. The second activity of Jesus is quite different. It is much more private. In the morning, long before dawn, Jesus goes out by himself to a lonely place to pray. Whereas Jesus’ public activity of healing the sick was much appreciated by all, this second activity of going off by himself to pray is not appreciated by others. Even those closest to him didn’t think much of it. Peter, the leading disciple, rebukes Jesus, ‘Everybody is looking for you’, as much as to say, ‘Why are you wasting time out here on your own’. Yet, Jesus knew that the source of his life-giving work was his relationship with God, which is nurtured in his prayer. The activity of prayer was even more important to him than his activity of healing. Prayer is as necessary for us as it was for Jesus. We need the Lord if we are to live as he desires us to live and if we are to share in some way in his work. In prayer we acknowledge and give expression to our dependence on the Lord; we open ourselves to the Lord’s life-giving presence so as to be channels of that presence to others.

(iv) Wednesday, First Week in Ordinary Time

In this morning’s gospel reading we have the first clash in Mark’s gospel between Jesus and his disciples. After a very busy day healing the sick in Capernaum, Jesus withdrew to a lonely place for a time of prayer. Whereas people greatly appreciated Jesus’ healing ministry and wanted more of it, they didn’t seem to appreciate his going off on his own to find time and space for prayer. Jesus’ own disciples didn’t seem to appreciate this either because Simon Peter and his companions went out in search of him and when they found him they rebuked him saying, ‘Everybody is looking for you’, as much as to say, ‘What are you doing out here on your own when there are so many needy people in Capernaum looking for you’. Jesus, however, did not go back to Capernaum, in spite of the pressure put upon him. After his prayer, he went on to other villages and towns. Activity is often more appreciated than prayer; that is true of our own time as much as it was of Jesus’ time. Yet, Jesus shows us that the kind of activity which is an expression of God’s work must always be rooted in prayer. In prayer we open ourselves to God’s activity, and that helps to ensure that our activity is in harmony with God’s desire for ourselves and for others.

And/Or

(v) Wednesday, First Week in Ordinary Time

We relate to people in a whole variety of ways and, likewise, we relate to God in a whole variety of ways, which is why our prayer can take a great variety of forms. Prayer links both of today’s readings. The prayer of listening comes to the fore in today’s first reading. God was trying to speak to young Samuel but Samuel had not yet come to recognize the voice of God. He needed the elderly priest Eli to help him become attuned to God’s voice more fully. Eli was a kind of spiritual companion to Samuel, helping him to articulate a prayer of listening, ‘Speak, Lord, your servant is listening’. Eli’s suggested prayer to Samuel is a prayer we could all make our own today. It is a very good way of beginning a time of silent prayer during which we try to open ourselves to what the Lord may be saying to us through his word. The gospel reading describes a day in the life of Jesus. Having spoken in the local synagogue of Capernaum, he goes to the house of Simon Peter a short distance away to heal his mother in law, and the house then becomes a focal point for a healing ministry that extended into the evening. Hopefully after some rest, Jesus then goes off on his own to a lonely place just before dawn to pray. We are not told how he prayed, but it is likely that the prayer of listening was central to his prayer time. When Simon Peter and his companions went looking for him to bring him back to Capernaum, Jesus was very clear that this was not what God was asking him to do. Rather, having listened to God in prayer, he knew that he had to go to the neighbouring towns to preach the gospel there too. Prayer helped Jesus to discern what God was asking of him, which often clashed with what others wanted him to do. Our prayer of listening will help to give us too the clarity and the conviction to take the path the Lord is asking is asking us to take today.

Fr. Martin Hogan.

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animepopheart · 4 years ago

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Wonder Egg Priority, Episode 7: The Scars to Prove It (or, Love for the Moms, the Cutters, and the Drunks)

Wonder Egg Priority (WEP) has felt like the successor to Puella Magi Madoka Magica in many ways throughout its run, but in episode seven, it almost went full Madomagi by driving the stakes to their utmost height—to the death of one of the main characters. But as has been consistent with WEP, what it did instead, after some moments of true worry, is to instead deliver hope in the face of pain, resolve against overwhelming circumstances, and strength in weakness.

The series returns to Rika Kawai’s story in this episode, which starts with her turning 14. And on her 14th birthday, after leaving her hungover mother halfway asleep at the bar she works at and which they call home, Rika opens up to the rest of the girls, explaining that she doesn’t know her father (it could be any of five possibilities, or even more) and her mom won’t reveal any further information about him. As she trashes her mom, Neiru and Momoe are incredulous, which only drives Rika away from them. And though Ai goes to comfort her, Rika is in a terrible state of mind as she enters her next fight.

This was a difficult episode to watch. They’ve all been somewhat hard since the series never shies away from brutal and violent situations impacting young people, but I found myself squirming especially here as Rika’s cutting takes center stage. At one point, she decides to cut herself and it seems certain she will, before her turtle-like partner, Mannen, prevents it from happening.

Challenging, also, is how strained Rika’s relationship is with her mother, who’s life revolves around drink—alcohol both pays the bills and helps her forget how miserable her existence is. And in the midst of all the bad behavior in this episode—the usual Rika talk, her mom’s alcoholism and neglect, and the selfishness all around, one begins to feel deeply sorrowful for the Kawai women. Yes, Rika is often obnoxious, but her family life is in shambles, and she still exhibits goodness, including a curiously gentle relationship with Mannen. And Rika’s mother is a tragic figure, used by men and quite on the road to an early death, it would seem, unable to lift herself out of the gutter as she tries, in her own sloppy way, to protect and reach out to her daughter.

It’s in this hopelessness that Rika turns again to cutting, and then finds herself tempted by something even more dangerous. Her foe this time is a religious leader who led the egg, a follower who continues to believe in him, to commit suicide as a way of “connecting” with the universe (Heaven’s Gate, anyone?). Rika decries the ghoul as a charlatan, but is confronted with her own weakness when the egg shows her own scarred arm to Rika, revealing that she can tell that the latter cuts just like she did. And then she explains that Rika can be released from this pain.

The scars, evidence of what Rika does to cope with her pain, now become the weakness that they truly are, revealing how hopeless she feels, and how powerless she is against the mechanizations of her family life. And defeated, she’s about to allow herself to be killed when a surprising savior comes along—a turtle. Mannen attacks the spiritual leader, to Rika’s surprise as well, until she remembers that he has imprinted on her. Rika is Mannen’s mom, and as he did when he prevented her from cutting, Mannen is again protecting his mother.

The conclusion that Rika reaches is unusual but inspiring. She understands, in this moment, the need to protect one’s mom, finally admitting to herself in a de facto way that maybe her mother is in need of love, too. It’s funny to consider the need that mothers have for love since culturally and socially, they’re always seen as the providers of it. But of course, they need it in return, especially when they falter. My own mother is sick right now, and I think of the support I need to give her and the lack of that I’ve provided through the years.

Warning: Screenshot involving cutting after the jump.

My mother was a good one, however. Rika’s, on the other hand, has struggled with the charge, which reminds me of a story from one of my favorite books, The Ragamuffin Gospel, about another bad parent—a far worse one, in fact, and a real one. I’ll quote part of the passage from chapter seven:

“‘Our daughter Debbie wanted a pair of earth shoes for her Christmas present. On the afternoon of December 24, my husband drove her downtown, gave her sixty dollars, and told her to buy the best pair of shoes in the store. That is exactly what she did. When she climbed back into the pickup truck her father was driving, she kissed him on the cheek and told him he was the best daddy in the whole world. Max was preening himself like a peacock and decided to celebrate on the way home. He stopped at the Cork ‘n’ Bottle–that’s a tavern a few miles from our house and told Debbie he would be right out. It was a clear and extremely cold day, about twelve degrees above zero, so Max left the motor running and locked both doors from the outside so no one could get in. It was a little after three in the afternoon and…’

Silence.

‘Yes?’

The sound of heavy breathing crossed the recreation room. Her voice grew faint. She was crying. ‘My husband met some old Army buddies in the tavern. Swept up in euphoria over the reunion, he lost track of time, purpose, and everything else. He came out of the Cork ‘n’ Bottle at midnight . He was drunk. The motor had stopped running and the car windows were frozen shut. Debbie was badly frostbitten on both ears and on her fingers. When we got her to the hospital, the doctors had to operate. They amputated the thumb and forefinger on her right hand. She will be deaf for the rest of her life.'”

Max—a real person, mind you—was a successful, well-liked man, but his drinking problem led to an unconscionable decision and profound failure as a parent. And yet, this book is about grace, an idea which to humans feels unjust, but which has the power to change hearts and tear down walls, sometimes literally.

Could Max be given grace? Could Rika’s mother? If not directly, she’s done her own physical damage to her daughter in the form of those cutting scars (difficult and perhaps triggering images below). As mentioned earlier, the egg that she’s helping knows her pain and insists that letting go of everything, including life itself, is the way to peace. After all, to a young, suffering girl, what else could these scars mean?

But in the midst of giving up, in the moment that she actually capitulates (and this episode takes you 99% to the edge, both in the cutting scene and in the apparent death scene), Rika experiences something powerful. She experiences grace.

Have you ever been challenged to forgive someone when you don’t want to, when you feel completely in the right? Maybe it’s easy for you, but perhaps it isn’t. The girls surrounding Rika experience differing degrees of this with her sometimes maniacal and often hurtful behavior. Ai forgives easily. Momoe gets fired up and then equally seeks to make peace. And Neiru…well, Neiru holds onto “justice” more than love (setting up what I imagine will be the most powerful transformation in the series of all, in true Homura fashion). But in the moment that Rika is about to give her life, the girls yell out their love for her, even Neiru, and then more profoundly, without any hesitation, Mannen puts his own life on the line to stop the death from occurring. Rika has already given up, but this turtle hasn’t—not for his mother, whom he loves very much.

And experiencing that love from a different angle, Rika is changed just a bit. She begins to see her weakness as a “mother,” failing her turtle-child, and thinks of her own mom who is overwhelmed by hurt and a failure as well. And if just a little—for as the final scenes indicate, it is just a little—the path toward forgiveness begins.

But a little bit of grace is like a little bit of a flood—its power overwhelms, and it defeats the enemy, whether that means bitterness, a physical person (or manifestation of one), or the devil himself.

When Rika returns from the event, having killed the cult leader monster, it’s interesting to note that she isn’t a wholly different person. She’s changing little by little. And her scars remain. In fact, as she admits, she probably will cut herself again. But strangely enough, those scars now represent something different. They show someone trying—failing, yes, sometimes considerably and maybe very often—but trying, and only able to try because love was shown her, and through that, she is now able to show love as well.

You may have such scars in your life, physical or emotional, battered by the world and by people. I hope that you can develop relationships that help you heal as well, and that you’ll also remember that there are other scars which are meaningful to you, but which you cannot see on your person, scars that were borne out of a desire to heal you. Christ took the piercings, on his head, hands, feet, and side, so that while your heart and flesh may be cut, your soul need not be. And through his wounds, you may be healed.

The grace offered through Christ is one that, as he explains about everlasting water at the well to the Samaritan, for now and through eternity. The egg seeks peace forever by dying, but Jesus, unlike the cult leader, died for us so that we may not have to. He took the nails, the cross, and the spear so that we don’t have to inflict pain on ourselves and receive the punishment of our actions against him and others. He is our scar.

That’s grace. That’s the power that it has. And it can reach anyone—even a terrible dad, an alcoholic mom, a tempestuous child, and, and most significantly and personally—you.

If you’re suffering and in pain, maybe self-inflicted, we encourage you to explain such to a parent or trusted adult and ask for help. It’s a difficult first step, but one that will help you begin recovering. And we also advise that you turn to Christ for help—in prayer, community, and scripture. He provides people to us that will aid us in our times of need, as well as himself and the Holy Spirit if we are believers.

Additionally, there’s a scene in this episode where triumphant, Rika concludes that cutting is okay. That’s said in the context of her moving forward bit by bit and forgiving herself for her failures, even the upcoming ones. That’s an important lesson, though we must certainly be careful not to let it be a license to continue cutting with impunity.

Wonder Egg Priority can be streamed through Funimation. Read more of our articles by signing up for our weekly newsletter.

#wonder egg priority #rika kawai #wep #pmmm #Christianity #tw cutting #blog

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lady-z-writes · 3 years ago

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What Lies Beneath - Chapter 1 (Heisenberg x Reader) (Heisenberg x OC)

Posting this here too! Feel free to subscribe on AO3.

Chapter 1 is up of my new Heisenberg/reader (Heisenberg/OC) story.

Summary: A trip to a neighboring village introduces Heisenberg to Reader – a Cadou experiment that didn’t quite meet Miranda’s standards. Reader was told to stay away from the Lords – as her powers will only make them weaker – but there’s something alluring about this rugged man, especially when he’s between her thighs.

Boot stomps sound through the halls of the church, their echoes drown out by the yelling in the lobby. Heisenberg lights a cigar as he shoves through the doors, returning to the brisk winter air.

“Fuckin’ idiots,” he mutters, stomping through the snow.

Every ‘family’ meeting is rough, each one getting harder to hide his disdain for his ‘mother.’ But today…especially today, given the timing of things.

Heisenberg doesn’t remember much about his childhood before Miranda, but he remembers that trip his dad took him on – it was around this time of year. It was a time when his dad could break away from the factory, trek through the mountains until they hit a nearby village where they spent some time fishing. That’s all he remembers…some big snowstorm, a collapsing snowdrift almost taking them out, and fishing. Other than that, it’s all blank.

Days like this make it impossible to get passed that resentment he feels toward Miranda. Snowy weather leaves him wondering just how many fishing trips his dad planned to take him on before he was killed, before his son was experimented on, before the whole village went to shit thanks to that bitch.

The cold air and the cigar should make his lungs ache, but he’s so used to it by now. Coat billowing around him, he makes a rash decision and takes a right toward the southernmost mountains.

It isn’t often that he can sneak away from the ‘family’ without anyone knowing. He’d only been away for a while once and thankfully Moreau covered for him when they questioned his absence. If Moreau actually thought he was with him is another question entirely.

The one trip he took led him to the wrong place – no village in sight and by the time he arrived back, it was too late to try another path before the questioning began from his ‘family.’

'Where were you?’

'Why did you miss a meeting?’

'Mother is pissed.’

'Did you get lost in that factory?’

This time around, he had a better plan: got ahold of some old maps left behind in the village, plotted out his path and where his assumption was for the other village, waited until the opportune moment to leave town for a bit. And the opportune moment was directly after a meeting.

He didn’t know exactly what he wanted when he found it. Surely there’s no father to go fishing with so what’s the point?

The point is that he shouldn’t be confined to this stupid village, shouldn’t be one of Miranda’s toys, should be finite and human – not a monster. The point is that he’s chasing something and that probably says a lot about him and needs unburied, but now is not the time for self-counseling.

The climb through the mountains is exhausting, even for him, but he keeps pushing through just in case he ends up empty again, in case the village doesn’t exist in this area either.

The journey makes him start to doubt again, like he’s done so many nights before: maybe this isn’t his memory, but something else entirely. Maybe this was just a story he was told as a child; one that his young imagination ran wild with. Maybe…

A few hours into the journey, several cigars later, frozen limbs, and a sopping wet jacket, and he spots it: several rooftops through the clearing. He lets out a huff then a laugh as his feet carry him forward.

So, it did exist…this whole time…

Thought leaves him as soon as he hears a growl in the distance. Hammer at the ready, he doesn’t even have time to attack when he’s knocked off his feet by something he can only describe as Lycan-adjacent.

The antlers are what get him – stab at his neck before he swings his hammer to knock it off. And then he’s running – dodging trees because, oh fuck, that thing got right back up.

The village comes into view quickly after a few more run-ins with this antler-beast. It charges him again only for him to dodge, grab it by the antlers, and snap them like a wishbone. Blood pools as he slowly backs away, watching the dying thing twitch in the snow.

Sauntering on, he swings his hammer back over his shoulder, touches his throat wound with a ‘huh’ leaving his lips.

Odd.

An abandoned house sits near where he remembers fishing with his father, but he can’t remember what this used to be. Everything seen with fresh eyes, it seems like a lifetime ago – feels more like a dream than reality.

He continues on.

“You’re a fresh face,” comes a voice, almost startling him. Almost.

Spinning on his heels, he shifts his hammer, scans around. A thin womanly figure floats down from out of a tree. She’s cloaked in moss and tree bark, her features soft and almost kind. Heisenberg doesn’t lower his hammer.

“Such a bad day for traveling,” though she doesn’t seem to be affected by the cold, Heisenberg sniffles at her. “What are you doing out here, stranger?”

“Just out for a stroll,” he drawls. “Passing through.”

She steps closer and he steps back, aware that there’s nowhere to board up except the abandoned house. The tree woman extends her palms forward in an almost-innocence.

“Let me take you somewhere nice,” she motions behind her, as if that tree is ‘somewhere nice.’ Heisenberg doesn’t want to find out what she means. “Handsome guy like you…I could indulge in.”

He’s about to swing his hammer when he goes toppling to the ground again, the Earth feeling like it’s shifting beneath him – a dizzying in his head as he fights off another one of those antler-creatures.

Shifting his hand, he can feel the metal from objects inside the abandoned house. With a blink, they go flying through the air to impale the beast atop him. Growling sounds louder, foot stomps, and then a puncture to his neck. It’s not an antler this time, doesn’t feel as thick or grating, and when he looks out of the corner of his eye it’s the tree-lady crouched over him with a needle poking from her wrist into his neck.

Shoving her off then rising to his feet, he collects himself, pulls the metal scraps to float around him, but falters in a dizzy spell.

The tree woman laughs. “Much mightier than I thought. And powers, too!”

Blinking hard, Heisenberg sways on his feet, slamming his hammer down to catch himself. Breaths coming out ragged, he lowers his head to his hands.

This can’t be happening.

Shoving the metal forward as best he can, he realizes that he’s missed: the woman is beside him now.

“Aw, poor man,” she’s seductive suddenly, reaching for him, touching his arm. She seems to ignore the horned beasts surrounding them – or, rather, they ignore her. “Don’t you want to come and warm up?”

He wants to shove her off, but his body isn’t functioning properly. He feels like he’s stuck in a trance. Fingers twitching to shift the metal around them, he manages to kill one of the beasts before she grips his jacket and pulls him closer.

“You bitch,” he huffs, feeling her body pressed against him, his own reacting to their proximity.

She laughs. “Don’t fight it, sugar. You could use a nice release, couldn’t you? So pent up.”

Her lips are pressing to his and it’s almost as if he’s completely lost control. Her taste is exquisite, enticing, he can’t get enough. The hammer falls to the snow as he kisses her back, hand trailing behind her, pulling her into him harshly. A low moan leaves him but it sounds far away. Feeling is leaving his fingers – from the cold or something else, he isn’t sure. All he knows is he needs this.

“Serena, stop!” comes a yell from behind them and it feels like a slap to the face.

The beasts are no longer tame, but they growl in place.

Heisenberg is shoved back as another woman steps in between him and this tree woman Serena. His hands are grabbing for her though – contact, he needs contact – but they fall short and land on this new woman. He can’t seem to stop himself.

“Leave us alone, [Y/N]! This has nothing to do with you,” the tree woman Serena says.

[Y/N]? Heisenberg isn’t familiar…

Breaths are coming out in deep huffs like he’s been running. His head is foggy, trance-like still.

“Do you have any idea who this is?” [Y/N] asks, a small squeak leaving her as he loops his fingers up under her shirt, traces his calloused hands over her belly, inching up toward her breasts, dips his head to the crook of her neck.

“No, but my pheromones seem to work well on him. I was so close to total control.”

He’s sort of aware of this comment from the plant lady – enough that he pulls back from [Y/N] completely.

[Y/N] turns to him then, presses her hands to his shoulders. “Snap out of it,” she urges, “focus.”

Heisenberg finds himself staring into her eyes, focusing on the surroundings, has so many damn questions right now, but the scene before him keeps spinning.

Serena takes a swing at [Y/N] but she dodges, ducks under her blast of whatever-the-fuck-petals-those-are, and delivers a strong punch to her face. As the girls fight, Heisenberg blinks heavily and tries to shake this trance off.

Wide eyes stare into the snow as he’s a little embarrassed by the pants tent he’s currently sporting. Jesus. Fuck.

Anger pounds through him, his hand quickly snapping for his hammer…only it doesn’t work. A nervous gaze is shot to the women but he realizes that the tree lady isn’t using her powers either. He has a sinking feeling as he tries to force the metal pieces to float again.

Hoisting his hammer up the old-fashioned way, he realizes its weight.

“Duck,” he tells [Y/N], shoving her out of the way before delivering a blow to this tree lady, knocking her out.

[Y/N] stands back then, sees the anger flash in Heisenberg’s eyes. The antlered beasts still growl in place.

“Talk,” he snaps. “Now.”

“Your teeth are chattering,” she acknowledges. “Can’t we at least-”

“I said talk,” he slams the hammer down in the snow.

A nod. “Serena,” she nods over to the moss-covered lady on the ground. “She’s…we’re all…” she shakes her head then finishes with, “-like you.”

He can feel his shaking now, attributes it to this news when it could full-well be from the cold.

“Cadou?” he asks to which she nods. “Fuck.” He runs a hand down his face then shoves his hands in his pockets to keep them warm and to hide the half-chub he’s still got. “Where the Hell did my powers go?”

She looks sheepish. “I have everything to do with that.” At this, he reaches for his hammer again. “I-I didn’t take them or something, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He doesn’t look convinced. She sighs. “Here.” She steps backwards about 15 feet. “Try now.”

Begrudgingly, he removes his fists from his pockets and his hammer flies into his hand instantly. With a blink, he watches the metal pieces float up around him then rain back down into the snow.

Ah. So she can block power…

He remains silent which clearly makes her a little uneasy so she starts speaking again.

“Serena is a Dryad,” she announces as if he’s supposed to know what the fuck that is. “She has power over plants. You got to experience her pheromones…” she looks him over, eyes landing on his half-chub before she inhales and looks elsewhere.

“And what do they call you?” he steps closer.

“They don’t have a term for me. I…wasn’t given enough time…” she looks away, steps until her back is to the abandoned house.

He’s close, peering down at her. “And what are they,” he thumbs behind him.

“Wendigo,” she breathes out. He doesn’t reply. “She feeds them…” Heisenberg nods, grabs a cigar from his pocket, lights it, turns to walk away. “Where are you going?”

When he’s far enough away from the power cockblock, he pulls his hammer to him again, slicing up the Wendigos with his metal until there’s a heap of bodies around his feet. That should stop them from following.

[Y/N] tries to not let her surprise and approval show in her expression as she watches him, but he sees a small quirk of her eyebrow. Exhaling smoke, he takes another drag then starts coughing from the cold air.

“Powers or not, this weather isn’t good for you,” [Y/N] sighs.

“What, are you the ruler here? Kicking me out so soon?” he swings his hammer over his shoulder.

“We have no ruler, just…a monitor,” she shakes her head, turns, stops herself from saying more. “What is your business here, Lord Heisenberg?”

“Ah, so you do know me. Different village, yet word travels, hm?”

“You…don’t know of this place, do you?” at her question, he bites down the memories of his father. “Come, we have much to discuss.” As she begins walking, she doesn’t hear his footsteps following behind. She turns, tries another angle, “Or I could get Serena back up and she could show you more of her powers. Trust me, you don’t want her spores getting…other places. You’d have greater concerns than an awkward boner.”

Heisenberg can feel his cheeks heating up.

“Mouthy little bitch, aren’t you?”

She holds her hands up in innocence. “Just looking out for a mighty ruler.” She laughs. “Shall I start a fire or would you rather freeze your ass off out here? Maybe you need a minute to cool off – like a cold shower.”

He can’t help the laugh that comes from his throat at her quips.

“Spunky. I like you.”

[Y/N] inhales sharply, surprised and flattered.

And so begins their silent walk – Heisenberg trailing further behind just in case his powers are needed. The village is bigger than he remembers, though he doesn’t remember much.

[Y/N] picks up the wood she’d left outside of her door right before Heisenberg’s run-in with Serena and the Wendigo. If her fire hadn’t died, she wouldn’t have seen the pack of Wendigo charging down the hill at them. Any slower and Serena may have gotten her claws into him to use at her command.

Sometimes these powers come in handy, despite what Mother Miranda may think.

#karl heisenberg #heisenberg x oc #heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg x oc

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moongoddessmox · 2 years ago

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ok, Man Candy M update for yall. long long long

last Wednesday I was sitting in my car on break, he came out and was screaming and yelling to his mom (who also works there) about some $400+ charge that came out of his account and he doesn't know what it is, ( I think his wife did it or something idk for sure)

like hes literally about to break down crying yall, I mean, it was fucking gut-wrenching hearing him lose control and be so fucking broken over it. he was so frustrated and upset and hopeless, and he then started to let everything flow and was talking about how he can never do anything for himself, that he cant even get a haircut because his wife wanted to get one, or that he cant even buy himself new clothes. and how his son stole the last of his cigarettes and weed and his wife took the sons side, and he said "no ones on my side" and that his daughter's birthday was the next day and now he cant even get her a present. he was just so fucking broken over it. dude i was about to cry in my car hearing his voice shake like that.

i understand the feeling, i know that frustration, i grew up in it, ive lived it. so. naturally, i wanted to help. because regardless of this little crush, i really do hold him to a high regard, like, hes been nothing but kind to me and i genuinely love working with him and i appreciate what he does because every little thing doesn't go unnoticed.

so i tell Dr. A, who was working the same area as us that night, that i'm going to disappear for a few minutes as soon as my paycheck clears and i need him to cover for me. i don't tell him what im doing, because i want to remain as anonymous as i can so no one is mad or embarrassed by what im gonna do.

paycheck hits, i rush off and get supplies, and take out some money and leave it on his windshield, its only 20 minutes before lunch so im praying that it stays there.

lunch time, we go outside, i wait to see his reaction and HOMIE DOESNT FUCKING SEE THE WHITE ASS ENVELOPE ON HIS CAR.......YALL HE FUCKING DROVE OFF...........im about to shit myself, im on the brink of a fucking heart attack thinking this shit really about to fly off and be GONE

so i have to break anonymity and tell his mother that i put something on his car and he NEEDS to check before its gone.

30 minutes later, he comes back, hes not acting like he just received a large sum of money. im freaking out even more. he doesnt say anything to me. i tell Dr. A, he says something to MCM and he says "no i didnt see anything, my mom told me but i didnt notice anything" but he didnt check so im like "oh my god, brb" and run to check his car. ITS NOT THERE. i come back inside, my heart has a few beats left before its gonna give the fuck out.

Dr. A tells me he told MCM that he NEEDS to find it otherwise he will be extremely upset. so MCM walks the path he took to leave, comes back it and IS HOLDING UP THE ENVELOPE THANK THE FUCKING LORD. it was still in the parking lot praise jesus.

yall, i made this man cry. he couldn't fucking believe it, he was like "you put this on my car? are you serious?" and he started to tear up, he told me he doesn't know ANYONE friends or family that would ever do anything like that at all. and he was crying, his face was all red, and he went on and on ALL NIGHT about how shocking it was and how grateful he is, and how he "didn't know people like that existed"

and im telling him all the reasons why i did it, how great hes been and how kind and how much i appreciate him and what he does (super platonically guys, i s2g i really dont give any reason for them to think i have a crush on him, im not actually a homewrecker) and its like the first time hes ever heard this kind of thing

and Dr. A was telling me he's proud of me and that its good that i told him WHY i did it so he can hear that. and im so glad he had that reaction because i was scared of overstepping but his voice yall, it was heartbreaking hearing him out there, i only wish i could've done double the amount but not on short notice like that.

so now we're all like best friends lmao and Dr. A told me that MCM's mom and wife both cried too, and MCM showed up with a haircut on Sunday as well so im glad he got to use some on himself!

and now we're planning to have a BBQ and get to actually hang out outside of work, and i exchanged numbers with Dr. A and tonight i'm gonna get MCM's number too because we want to have a group chat with the three of us lmao (to talk but also for emergencies because my battery has died twice and MCM jumped it for me and said he'll do it any time so)

today, we weren't in the same area but we took our breaks at the same time and talked outside and shit, and hes so awkward lmao hes like, ya know when youre on the phone and walk around aimlessly, thats how he acts when we talk, its like bashful but hes intently listening.

and when we walked back in together, no one was talking but he turned around and smiled at me, like for whAT HOMIE YOU CANT LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT I'LL PASS OUT.

oh and the other day i saw his bicep, his sleeve was rolled up a little and i saw his full arm and it was flexed bc he was carrying shit and yall, fuck me uppppppppppp, arms, hands, bellies, im gonna fucking scream

oh also he was helping me with cardboard and our arms touched, ughhhhhhh sdhfslkjfhsldhl

so yeah, im like, best friends with him now basically lmfao

#rant #mox at work #man candy m #motorcycle m #dr. a

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ontheblock · 4 years ago

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BABE U WRITE FOR SALLY FACE?? Anything with Travis (male s/o with him obviously) or Sally please :O your writing is amazing!!

YES I DO !! i used to have a bunch of wips i still haven’t finished but i figured i can still add sf to my list since it was such a comfort game when it came out haha. as per usual, this isn’t beta read, i fucked the formatting up twice but just squint when you notice any errors- also thank you love <3 i‘d give you a free bologna sandwich for requesting trav ily. 100% beef obviously /winkwonk

fabric

•warning: abuse, religious guilt, homophobia and f-slur use, bad first kisses, badly written fluff, travis being travis

Travis was meant to live a life molded for him by his father. The pattern was already placed on the fabric when his first cry shook the hospital room at 6:33am. He was supposed to be cut from his father‘s mold but Travis‘ fabric was already old and frayed, the intertwining strings of muted tones that held him together felt lose by the time he could run. Sometimes he thought about the reason why he was incomplete. His fabric wasn‘t strong enough to hold his family name, not stretchy enough to bounce back from his father‘s reactions. Travis‘ mother patched him up every time there was another bruise on his back or face. She would cut parts out of her own fabric to cover the ripped strings her husband‘s belt left on their son. But she had only so much left when the beatings got worse.

Travis was in middle school, attending a christian summer camp a few hours away from Nockfell. He never noticed how different the air was at home but the sky was so murky compared to literally everywhere else. His father thought it was a good idea to let the boy out of town while he took care of the Ministry business which was code for something Travis shouldn‘t stick his nose into. He never asked but someone went missing while he was gone. Tragic.

Not as tragic as the camp counselor calling Travis home on their last day. The boy didn‘t know about that but they told his father about some inappropriate behavior his son showed with a fellow camper - a boy his age, Kenneth didn‘t care for the name or where he was from. All he needed to know was what his son did with that boy. The counselor tried to calm the angry parent on the phone but as soon as the information was exchanged the line went dead. He didn‘t want to hear the washed up excuses. His son was young and it was best to get these urges out of his system before they could even develop - dig for the deepest root you could find and rip it from the still fresh ground before it bloomed into something ugly, even if that meant that the garden would never bloom at all. Kenneth was a man of action after all.

That evening Travis came home clueless while his father already stood in the hallway with his wife behind him, holding onto his hand and uttering whispered quick prayers but his thick fingers already curled around the leather painfully hard. The strain it caused in his hand only fueled the need for a release as he charged for his son who didn‘t even have the chance to slip out of his worn sneakers.

That evening his mother didn‘t stay when Kenneth told her to go to bed early. Travis asked himself if it pained her the same way it pained him when his skin split under the force his father put in his first few strikes.

“You want to hold hands with boys now?“

“My son isn‘t a faggot, is that clear?“

“I gave you a place in this filthy town. You will appreciate it and live a proper life!“

“You will thank me when you don‘t burn for being dirty.“

It wasn‘t meant for Travis to answer because by the end of the night he would not even think about a boy‘s hand to be soft and warm anymore.

Travis was older now but he never found enough of anything to mend the damage his father did that night. Travis didn‘t try to explain that he held onto the boy because they figured that they wouldn’t slip on the wet mud that way. Instead he kept quiet about it ever happening and his father was content with this as long as he pulled his son from the devil‘s path to sodomy.

And Travis thought so too until a thread of blue fabric pulled together a gaping hole in his fabric. It stuck out like a sore thumb - too vibrant but warmer than any patch his mother gave to him and when he sat on the grimy bathroom floor in school after Sal Fisher of all people gave him a fucking pep talk, it felt nice. The warmth let his tears evaporate so he could pull himself together for the rest of the day.

But it was short lived. The warmth spread through him so fast he felt like burning up whenever he sat in class with Sal. He tried everything to get that blue thread out of his life but pulling on it only felt like strangling himself and he regretted ever letting his bully persona slip in that bathroom just because Sal fucking Fisher found the note he threw away - the note that was about him but Travis never had it in himself to tell him that. He regretted his promise to be less of an asshole because he knew he couldn‘t. Not even three days later the heat in his belly was so hot that he boiled over when he saw Fisher talking to that ginger nerd by the lockers. He ended up calling him a faggot because how dare he be openly gay in the same town Kenneth Phelps lived? How dare he be happy like this?

Sal tensed at the insult. Did he actually think Travis could be better? And why was his freakshow friend not hurt at the insult when it still burned in his throat to say it? Why did it feel like the slur wasn‘t meant for Todd at all? Travis swallowed hard as he fled the hallway in such a hurry that the three folded up pamphlets in his barely zipped up backpack fell on the muddy vinyl flooring.

“Fuck, Phleps. Just wait. Travis!“ The boy in question tucked at his collar as he turned a corner just to slip into another empty corridor. They had a free period right after gym class and Sal Fisher was determined to finally talk to the boy who relentlessly bullied him to now avoid him like it was the other way around. “Jesus, I‘m not gonna pry but if your dad-“ Sally harshly bumped into Travis as he whipped around, finally coming to a stop. Shame crawled up the taller teen‘s neck when he didn‘t find the prosthetic nose digging into his sweater uncomfortable.

“Shut up! God, just stop!“ Sal was surprised that he would use his Lord‘s name in vain like that and if the situation was anything but this he would‘ve laughed. “Travis, I don‘t know how you feel but-“, Sal tried again but Travis was at his limits this time. “You don‘t and you never will, Fisher. Your dad would accept you being a dirty faggot but mine doesn’t!“ He tried to fill his words with venom but it all bounced back on the guy‘s mask anyway with how much his voice actually trembled.

There was a moment of silence that made Travis want to literally get struck by his God‘s angry lightning. He couldn‘t even leave. It was like all the root his father dug out slowly crawled back to feed on his shame and ground him in front of Sal who still had to react and maybe Travis should just tell him to fuck off so he wouldn‘t have to find out what he wanted to say next.

“Travis...“ Sal lowered his voice in a fake moment of privacy. “Are you-?“ Travis already shut his eyes as he clenched his fists. He didn‘t like where this was going but there was no more fight in him. “Nevermind. You don‘t owe me shit but I saw your back.“ Travis exhaled through his mouth until there was nothing left in his lungs. He knew where that question was headed. Are you gay, Travis? Are you the faggot and that‘s why you‘re so angry? He was glad that Sal changed his approach because even Travis himself was too scared to find the answer.

“So what, Sally Face? You‘re sticking your nose somewhere it doesn’t belong. If you even have one under that stupid mask.“ Travis harshly pushed his index finger into the boys chest and the sharp inhale he made almost made him freeze up and apologize. But he couldn‘t. He was too deep to go soft now. The look in Sal‘s eyes was enough to make Travis finally stumble backwards and push past him.

He didn‘t follow him this time.

His verbal fights with Sal Fisher were like a damn wake up call for the teen. The rush of warmth it spread in his chest and the cold shiver in sent down his spine were shaking his body every time. He started noticing that Nockfell wasn‘t that murky. Travis used to really like yellow as a child because it reminded him of his mother’s favorite sunflower dress. She was a different woman now. The vibrant yellow was fading just like her hair. Maybe it was just Nockfell, maybe it was because of her suffocating husband draining her of her life and slowly unraveling her fabric. It didn‘t matter now but to make a depressing story short, Travis didn‘t have a favorite color anymore.

But the sky looked like a pretty shade of blue on some days. He never noticed but his bathroom tiles had blue specks in them. He always thought they were just a weird grey. There were tiny flowers blooming in the most vibrant blue behind the school and he wished that they were behind the church too but nothing ever grew around that building. But he would pluck them sometimes when he was skipping gym class. His last fight in the empty hallway was weeks ago and he hoped that Sal finally gave up on his savior complex. But why did his chest sting at that thought? His fingers slowly clutched his sweater as he stared at a withering flower by his foot. Travis jumped out of his thoughts when the metal door creaked open.

“Yo.“ Sal pushed the door closed with his shoe as he held up a hand to casually greet him. His face scrunched up. “What do you want?“ Travis lowered his head again. The boy obviously noticed the fresh shiner on his face already but facing him still felt like he exposed himself. “Just wanted to confirm that the church boy was skipping class.“ Uninvited, the teen sat beside Travis on the grass, with a healthy distance of course. “Shut up. My faith has fuck all to do with school“, Travis spoke lowly but his voice was tired. Sal just hummed in agreement before silence draped over them. Not uncomfortably like the usual strained void of reactions when one of them dropped something they weren‘t prepared for. It felt ok like this and it felt like a blanket. To Travis that blanket was soft and blue but before he could shake it off and stand up there were strings of the obnoxious fabric already weaving themself into his personal space.

“We don‘t have to fight all the time.“ Sal didn‘t look at him and neither did Travis. He really didn‘t have a reason to disagree. Not one that wouldn’t blow his cover at least.

“Maybe I could come to your little church and-“ Travis head snapped up. “Don‘t“, he blurted out a little louder than he meant. “It‘s a joke. I‘m not religious.“ Sal snorted, plucking a few pieces of grass. “Yeah, because you‘re a sinner in the eyes of the Lord. You f-“ Travis had to physically stop himself by biting his lip. Sal looked over at him and Travis wished he didn‘t. “Sorry“, Travis mumbled, refusing to meet his eyes, or eye since he was pretty sure his other eye never moved before. “I‘m trying to not call people that anymore.“ because all I hear is my father saying it.

“It‘s cool.“ It wasn‘t. “Why are you skipping?“ Travis huffed. It was weird to not let the conversation derail into verbal abuse. “I don‘t know. I fell. Hit my head on the door pretty bad. As you can see.“ Sal just hummed. “That‘s why you‘re limping, too?“ Travis blurted out a “yes“ a little too fast. Why was he nervous? His whole school life already revolved around cover up stories about the strange aches and bruises he got out of nowhere.

“Right.“ Sal let it slide, again. “You‘re acing algebra, Fisher.“ It wasn‘t a question so Sal didn‘t say anything. “Hmm.“ Travis cursed himself for never learning proper social skills but his father didn‘t like him bringing strangers into the house and his teen years were a constant feeling of push and pull of picking fights with boys that sparked an ugly tingle in his belly.

“You need a tutor?“ The silence seemed to be enough for Sal. Fuck him and his open fucking hand. “Maybe.“ Travis flicked a flower with his finger, dismissing the clear offer because his stomach ignited at the fact that Sal didn‘t hate him enough yet. “Maybe there is a tutor in Addisons Appartement, Room 402, who‘s free on the weekend.“ Sal couldn‘t help but smile under his mask as Travis huffed. “Fuck you, Fisher.“

Sal already forgot about his offer when lunch passed and his dad stood in the kitchen, washing their dishes, enjoying the background noise of his son watching TV with his cat. They were so engrossed in the VHS tape Sal put on that he didn‘t hear the door until his dad whistled from the kitchen. “Sally, door.“

“Huh? Oh. Yes, dad.“ He jumped to his feet, leaving Gizmo to the slasher movie he seemed to like. “Weird, Larry said he‘s busy“, Sal mumbled, opening the front door. “Oh.“ It was a knee jerk reaction from Sal because he expected everyone but Travis Phelps to knock at his door and truth be told, he looked like he‘d rather be anywhere else with the way his awkward greeting caught in his throat and died on his tongue as a huff. His eyes followed the way the blue strands hung over Sal‘s shoulders, the mask straps upsetting the smooth texture as a few chunks hung over the elastics. Travis hasn’t seen him with his hair down. He looked smaller in big sweatpants and a band shirt too.

“Travis?“ The boy‘s eyes snapped back to the mask in front of him. “So, algebra?“ Sal tilted his head a smidge. A small habit he picked up to better communicate what would otherwise be shown in his facial features. But it made Travis want to scream for a multitude of reasons as heat crept up his neck. “Obviously.“

Anyone else would‘ve told him to fix his tone or fuck off but Sal held open the door for him. It felt wrong but Travis took the invitation, rubbing his clammy hands on his pants. “Who is it?“, a deeper voice called and Travis almost jumped. He had to remind him this wasn‘t Kenneth. Mr Fisher wasn’t anything like his dad and he didn’t have to be on edge around the boy. “A friend“, Sal replied shortly, only getting an approving hum.

A friend. Did Sal see him as a friend? He couldn‘t dwell on it since he was pulled into the boy‘s bedroom that looked nothing like his. “Just sit anywhere.“ Sal wildly gestured into the room and Travis sat on the barely made bed as Sall dropped his books next to him.

Travis felt like there was something breathing down his neck the entire time they sat on Sal‘s bed. His shirt collar felt like it was about to cinch his neck closed, the dangling cross necklace he kept under his shirt felt hot to the touch like it burned the shape of Jesus into his chest with every sinful thought that crossed his mind as Sal explained the most bland and unerotic subject.

“Travis?“ The boy almost choked on his own spit.

“Romans 1:26-27.“ Travis stumbled over his own words but the verse was engraved into his head after writing and reciting it for a month straight under the stern eye of his father. There was a briefe silence for a moment.

“What?“ Sal looked up from the book in his lap.

“What?“ Travis felt breathless as he stared back at Sal. “Nothing“, he quickly added before Sal could even say anything else. “Explain that again?“ But he didn‘t. Instead, Sal pushed the book off his thigh, still staring the boy down. “Did you really come here for algebra, dude?“ No. “Yes.“ Travis fiddled with the hem of his shirt, not knowing if it was anxiety, anger or just bile scratching against his stomach lining to crawl out of him.

When Sal didn‘t say anything else Travis just reached over the boys lap to take the book himself but there was already a hand pressing against his shoulder. Travis hissed as he pulled his arm back, making Sal pull back just as fast. They stared at each other for a moment before Sal‘s gaze darted to his shoulder. “You fell pretty hard on that door.“ Travis clenched his jaw. “Shut up, Fisher, and back the fuck up.“

The boy shook his head, scooting away an inch. “Listen, you can say no because I would too but I can at least get you ointment for that.“ Sal gestured to his back and shoulder and something in Travis just crumbles as he lets his hands drop into his lap, staring them down to not look at Sal. “Ok. If it gets you off my back you parasite.“

Travis didn‘t plan this when he knocked on the apartment door. He expected to maybe stay 20 minutes before something would make him see red but all he saw was blue. Maybe he was cursed. All these years of plucking out the roots his father couldn’t reach were rendered worthless now that he sat on the rough carpet, holding his shirt up as Sal dug out the ointment.

How did he even get here? His heart beat in his throat when he felt a presence behind him. He felt the need to say something. He wanted to make it clear that this meant nothing to not make it weird but wouldn‘t that make it weirder? Wasn‘t this the same as his mother putting a bandaid on his cuts and whatever herbal mixture on his wounds? It wasn’t because he never felt the sick urge to kiss his mother.

“Ready?“, Sal asked, kneeling behind him with a glob of cool ointment on his index and middle finger. Fucking hell, why did he have to make it weird? He definitely had to say something now.

“It was my dad.“ Travis spoke fast enough to mutter his words but the long pause probably meant that Sal heard him anyway. He wanted to melt into the carpet, leave behind a stain on the boy‘s floor to annoy him just one last time. He didn‘t know what he expected him to say to that and he also didn‘t know why that was the thing he had to say. But Sal made it easy on him by just not answering at all. Instead, he dabbed the cream on the first bruise, making Travis inhale sharply but otherwise biting his tongue. Sal figured that Travis wanted to act tough by not showing that it hurt but actually, Travis didn‘t trust his voice under Sal‘s soft fingertips.

“Travis“, Sal spoke again. Travis wasn‘t sure if he hated the heavy silence more of the fact that Sal was the first to say something while he was rubbing little circles into his back. He didn‘t answer but that never held Sal back.

“Are you gay?“ His voice was so quiet that Travis wouldn‘t have heard it if they sat a little further apart but it had the same effect as screaming it for all of Nockfell to hear. Sal felt him tense up under his touch, already expecting him to jump up or at least yell at him. But neither of them did anything. Sal‘s fingers rested against the heating skin, feeling it rise with every ragged breath he managed to take. “Travis-“

“Fuck, Sal. What? Do you want me to tell you about the times my dad beat the gay out of me or do you prefer that time I wanted to kiss you in that gross fucking bathroom?“, the teen finally barked, letting his words sink in first before he hissed a quiet “shit“. The fingers on his back pulled away as Sal sat on his heels. “You wanted to kiss me?“, Sal repeated, slower than Travis but he just pressed the balls of his hands into his eyes until he saw shapes and felt like the pressure would crush his face. He heard Sal shuffle around the room, probably getting ready to throw him out like he should‘ve done a while ago. But the shuffling stopped in front of him and something told him not to look but cold hands were already on his wrists to peel his cramping hands from his face. Travis opened his eyes just in time to see that mask uncomfortably close but before he could say anything, there was an odd sensation on his lips with minimal pressure. Sal was kissing him and it snuffed the flame in his stomach for just a moment, allowing the torched butterflies to unfold their wings and fly high enough to even make his heart pump overtime. But the feeling was lost just as soon when Sal inched backwards, pulling his prosthetic back in place before Travis could even take any of this in.

“Sorry.“ Sal threw it into the room for Travis to interpret. But the gears in his head threatened to jump out of place already so he reached out to Sal who already flinched backwards, holding onto his mask. “You don‘t want that.“ Sal pushed his hand back a little. “How would you know?“ Travis furrowed his brows at him but he was thankful. He wasn‘t sure if he could take seeing the boy bare like that but he was craving that feeling his father tried to snuff so desperately.

Sal just shook his head as Travis inched closer. “I‘ll close my eyes.“ Now it was Sal‘s turn to hole up in silence, knowing that neither of them could handle the mask coming off. Something made him trust Travis‘ words as he opened the bottom clasp which was the cue for Travis to shut his eyes. He did and seconds later he felt Sal on him again. One hand clamping over his eyes just to make sure and the other fisting the front of his shirt.

This time Travis felt the cleft in Sal‘s lip and the scar tissue ripping up the soft skin. He leaned into the kiss. Where were his hands supposed to go? When Travis didn‘t find the answer his body moved on autopilot. One hand threaded through the surprisingly smooth strands as the other clung to the small of his back.

Travis should‘ve been grossed out by the drool pooling out of Sal‘s torn lip but he wasn‘t. He should be grossed out by Sal being a boy but he wasn‘t. When Sal pulled back he kept his hand over Travis‘ eyes while the other wiped the spit off his chin. The kiss alone was enough to patch up his murky fabric with bright blue strings that dominated the colors his father painted him in. Travis didn‘t know what would happen after high school. Hell, he didn‘t even know what would be tomorrow. But he didn‘t want the bright fibers to unravel him again.

A knock on the door startled both of them, making Sal pull his arm away and Travis rapidly blinking. He didn‘t notice the mangled face first as the unruly blue caught his eye. His hand did that. His heart beat in his throat again as he overheard Sal‘s father say something and Sal shooting a hum of agreement back. His prosthetic was already on his face again before Travis could catch anything besides the scar tissue crawling up his jaw and chin before splitting his lips and exposing teeth and gum.

Maybe blue was his favorite color.

#tw toxic family #tw abuse #tw religious trauma #tw slurs #sally face #travis phelps #sal fisher #travis phelps x sal fisher #travis phelps x sally face

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bogkeep · 4 years ago

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hmmmmmmmmmm maybe i’ll write an Introspective Musing Post about my relationship to religion and their depiction in stories because i’ve pondering about this topic lately

so for those who are reading this and DON’T know what’s been going on... there’s this webcomic i fell in love with some years ago, about six years actually, that depicts a post-apocalyptic fantasy/horror adventure set in the nordic countries. it had, and has still, some very uncomfortable flaws regarding racial representation, and the creator has historically not dealt very well with criticism towards it. it’s a whole Thing. my relationship with this comic has fluctuated a lot, since there are a lot of elements in it i DO love and i still feel very nostalgic about, and like idk i felt like i trust my skills in critical thinking enough to keep reading. aaand then the creator went a teensy bit off the deep end created a whole minicomic which is like... a lukewarm social media dystopia where christians are oppressed (and also everyone is a cute bunny, including our lord and saviour jesus christ). which is already tonedeaf enough considering there are religious people who DO get prosecuted for their faith, like, that’s an actual reality for a lot of people - but as far as i can tell, usually not christians. and then there’s an afterword that’s like, “anyway i got recently converted and realized i’m a disgusting human being full of sin who doesn’t deserve redemption but jesus loves me so i’ll be fine!! remember to repent for your sins xoxo” and a bunch of other stuff and IT’S KIND OF REALLY CONCERNING i have, uh, been habitually looking at the reactions to and discussions around this, maybe it’s not very self care of me but there’s a lot of overwhelming things rn and it’s fantastically distracting, yknow? like, overall this situation is fairly reminiscent of the whole jkr thing. creator of a series that is Fairly Beloved, does something hurtful, handles backlash in a weird way, a lot of people start taking distance from Beloved Series or find ways to enjoy it on their own terms, creator later reveals to have been fully radicalized and releases a whole manifesto, and any and all criticism gets framed as harassment and proving them right. of course, one of them is a super rich person with a LOT of media power and a topic that is a lot more destructive in our current zeitgeist, and the other is an independent webcomic creator, so it’s not the same situation. just similar vibez ya feel as a result of this, i have been Thinking. and just this feels like some sort of defeat like god dammit she got me i AM thinking about the topic she wrote about!!! i should dismiss the whole thing!!! but thinking about topics is probably a good thing so hey lets go. me, i’m agnostic. i understand that this is a ��lazy’ position to take, but it’s what works for me. i simply do not vibe with organized religion, personally. (i had the wikipedia page for ‘chaos magic’ open in a tab for several weeks, if that helps.) i was raised by atheists in a majorly atheist culture. christian atheist, i should specify. norway has been mostly and historically lutheran, and religion has usually been a private and personal thing. it turns out the teacher i had in 7th grade was mormon, but i ONLY found out because he showed up in a tv series discussing religious groups in norway later, and he was honestly one of the best teachers i have ever had - he reignited the whole class’ interest in science, math, and dungeons and dragons. it was a real “wait WHAT” moment for my teenage self. i think i was briefly converted to christianity by my friend when i was like 7, who grew up in a christian family (i visited them a couple times and always forgot they do prayers before dinner. oops!), but like, she ALSO made me believe she was the guardian of a secret magic orb that controls the entire world and if i told anybody the world would burn down in 3 seconds. i only suspected something was off when one day the Orb ran on batteries, and another day the Orb had to be plugged in to charge. in my defense i really wanted to be part of a cool fantasy plot. i had no idea how to be a christian beyond “uuuuh believe in god i guess” so it just faded away on its own. when i met this friend several years later, she was no longer christian. i think every childhood friend of mine who grew up in a christian family, was no longer christian when they grew up. most notably my closest internet friend whose family was catholic - she had several siblings, and each of them took a wildly different path, from hippie treehugger to laveyan satanist or something in that area. (i joined them for a sermon in a church when they visited my town. my phone went off during it because i had forgotten to silence it. oops!) ((i also really liked their mother’s interpretation of purgatory. she explained it as a bath, not fire. i like that.)) i have never had any personal negative experiences with christianity, despite being openly queer/gay/trans. the only time someone has directly told me i’m going to hell was some guy who saw me wearing a hoodie on norway’s constitution day. yeah i still remember that you bastard i’ve sworn to be spiteful about it till the day i die!! i’ve actually had much more insufferable interactions with the obnoxious kind of atheists - like yes yes i agree with you on a lot but that doesn’t diminish your ability to be an absolute hypocrite, it turns out? i remember going to see the movie ‘noah’ with a friend who had recently discovered reddit atheism and it was just really exhausting to discuss it with her. one of these Obnoxious Atheists is my Own Mother. which is a little strange, honestly, because she LOVES visiting churches for the Aesthetic and Architecture. we cannot go anywhere without having to stop by a pretty church to Admire and Explore. I’VE BEEN IN SO MANY CHURCHES FOR AN ATHEIST RAISED NON-CHRISTIAN. i’ve been to the vatican TWICE (i genuinely don’t even know how much of my extended family is christian. up north in the tiny village i come from, i believe my uncle is the churchkeeper, and it’s the only building in the area that did not get burnt down by the the nazis during ww2 - mostly because soldiers needed a place to sleep. still don’t know whether or not said uncle believes or not, because hey, it’s Personal) i think my biggest personal relationship to religion, and christianity specifically, has been academic. yeah, we learned a brief synopsis of world religions at school (and i remember the class used to be called ‘christianity, religion, and ethics’ and got changed to ‘religion, beliefs, and ethics’ which is cool. it was probably a big discourse but i was a teen who didnt care), but also my bachelor degree is in art history, specifically western art history because it’s a vast sprawling topic and they had to distill it as best they could SIGHS. western art history is deeply entangled with the history of the church, and i think the most i’ve ever learnt about christianity is through these classes (one of my professors wrote an article about how jesus can be interpreted as queer which i Deeply Appreciate). i also specifically tried to diversify my academic input by picking classes such as ‘depiction of muslims and jewish people in western medieval art’ and ‘art and religion’ when i was an exchange student in canada, along with 101 classes in anthropology and archaeology. because i think human diversity and culture is very cool and i want to absorb that knowledge as best as i can. i think my exchange semester in canada was the most religiously diverse space have ever been in, to be honest. now as an adult i have more christian friends again, but friends who chose it for themselves, and who practice in ways that sound good and healthy, like a place of solace and community for them. the vast majority of my friends are queer too, yknow?? i’ve known too many people who have seen these identities as fated opposites, but they aren’t, they’re just parts of who people are. it’s like... i genuinely love people having their faiths and beliefs so much. i love people finding that space where they belong and feel safe in. i love people having communities and heritages and connections. i deeply respect and admire opening up that space for faith within any other communities, like... if i’m going to listen to a podcast about scepticism and cults, i am not going to listen to it if it’s just an excuse to bash religion. i think the search for truth needs to be compassionate, always. you can acknowledge that crystals are cool and make people happy AND that multi level marketing schemes are deeply harmful and prey on people in vulnerable situaitons. YOU KNOW???? so now’s when i bring up Apocalypse Comic again. one of the things i really did like about it was, ironically, how it handled religion. in its setting, people have returned to old gods, and their magic drew power from their religion. characters from different regions had different beliefs and sources. in the first arc, they meet the spirit of a lutheran pastor, who ends up helping them with her powers. it was treated as, in the creators own words, ‘just another mythology’. and honestly? i love that. it was one of the nicest depictions i’ve seen of christianity in fiction, and as something that could coexist with other faiths. I Vibe With That. and then, uh, then... bunny dystopia comic. it just... it just straight up tells you christianity is literally the only way to..?? be a good person??? i guess?? i’m still kind of struggling to parse what exactly it wanted to say. the evil social media overlord bird tells you the bible makes you a DANGEROUS FREETHINKER, but the comic also treats rewriting the bible or finding your own way to faith as something,, Bad. The Bible Must Remain Unsullied. Never Criticize The Bible. also, doing good things just for social media clout is bad and selfish. you should do good things so you don’t burn in hell instead. is that the message? it reads a lot like the comic creator already had the idea for the comic, but only got the urge to make it after she was converted and needed to spread the good word. you do you i guess!! i understand that she’s new to this and probably Going Through Something, and this is just a step on her journey. but the absolute self-loathing she described in her afterword... it does not sound good. i’m just some agnostic kid so what do i know, but i do not think that kind of self-flagellating is a kind faith to have for yourself. i might not ever have been properly religious, but you know what i AM familiar with? a brain wired for ocd and intrusive thoughts. for a lot of my life i’ve struggled with my own kind of purity complex. i’ve had this really strange sensitivity for things that felt ‘tainted’. i’ve experienced having to remove more and more words from my vocabulary because they were Bad and i did not want to sully my sentences. it stacked, too - if a word turned out to be an euphemism for something, i could never feel comfortable saying it again. i still struggle a bit with these things, but i have confronted these things within myself. i’ve had to make myself comfortable with imperfection and ‘tainted’ things and accept that these are just, arbitrary categories my mind made up. maybe that’s the reason i can’t do organized religion even if i found one that fit for me - just like diets can trigger disordered eating, i think it would carve some bad brainpaths for me. so yeah i’m worried i guess! i’m worried when people think it’s so good that she finally found the correct faith even if it’s causing all this self-hate. is there really not a better way? or are they just trusting she’ll find it? and yeah it’s none of my concern, it’s like, i worry for jkr too but i do not want her within miles of my trans self thANKS. so like, i DO enjoy media that explores faith and what it means for you. my favourite band is the oh hellos, which DOES draw on faith and the songwriter’s experience with it. because of my religious iliteracy most of it has flown over my head for years and i’m like “oh hey this is gay” and then only later realize it was about god all along Probably. i like what they’ve done with the place. also, stormlight archive - i had NO idea sanderson was mormon, the way he writes his characters, many of whom actively discuss religion and their relationship to it. i love that about the books, honestly. Media That Explores Religion In A Complex And Compassionate Way... we like that i’ve been thinking about my own stories too, and how i might want to explore faith in them. most of my settings are based on magic and it’s like, what role does religion have in a world where gods are real and makes u magic. in sparrow spellcaster’s story, xe creates? summons? an old god - brings them to life out of the idea of them. it’s a story about hubris, mostly. then there’s iphimery, the story where i am actively fleshing out a pantheon. there’s no doubt the gods are real in the fantasy version of iphimery, they are the source of magic and sustain themselves on slivers of humanity in exchange. but in the modern version, where they are mostly forgotten? that’s some room for me to explore, i think. especially the character of timian, who comes from a smaller town and moves to a large and diverse city. in the fantasy story, the guardian deity chooses his sister as a vessel. in the modern setting, that does not happen, and i don’t yet know what does, but i really want timian to be someone who struggles with his identity - his faith, his sexuality, the expectations cast upon him by his hometown... i’m sure it’s a cliché story retold through a million gay characters but i want to do it too okay. i want to see him carve out his own way of existing within the world because i care him and want to see him thrive!!! alrighty i THINK that’s all i wanted to write. thanks if you read all of this, and if you didn’t that’s super cool have a nice day !

#rambles #i wrote this for me and theres no obligation to read it

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wiypt-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Too Loose And You’ll Lose It

Ch4: You Don’t Know What You’ve Got Till It’s Gone Part 1 Co-written with @icanfeelastormbrewing

Summary: Jake and Stella are both home for Christmas, and the annual New Year’s Party at the Jensen’s sees some unexpected guests in attendance…

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairing: Jake Jensen x OFC Stella Stevenson.

A/N: Another long updated, so split into 2 parts for you to read at your leisure!! Part 2 to follow shortly.

TLAYLI Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 3 Part 2

“Knowing what you don't want can often be more valuable than knowing what you do want.” Melchor Lim

"So when do I get to meet Evan then?" Rey asked as she handed Stella the plate she had just rinsed.

It was the day before New Year’s Eve and both sisters were in the kitchen finishing doing the lunch dishes while their mother watched TV in the living room. Stella loved Christmas, she always had, and this was the first one she was getting to spend at home for 3 years. But, the trade-off for being able to do so was having to put up with Rey constantly nagging about her home-based shopping business not doing quite as well in the last weeks as she expected and her constant struggle to get pregnant. And, honestly, Stella was a little bit tired of having to sooth her sister's same worries every time they got together. But now a new topic had been thrown into the equation- Evan. And Stel found herself wishing that they were still talking about ovulation cycles and how many times on average in a week a couple wanting to conceive should be ‘doing it’.

"Jesus, will you give it a break? That’s all I heard when I was home for Thanksgiving…and over Christmas dinner and every day since then!” Stella finally snapped “God, you and mom have talked about nothing else, even Jane was poking for more information when we were at the spa because you can’t keep your mouth shut."

True to her word Rey had spent Rick's money on a girls-only spa day which in all fairness Stella had gladly welcomed. She had relished all the treatments, each one with a more flamboyant name than the other, and as their day culminated they all were relaxing in the hot tub, enjoying the Mean Steam treatment while sipping Mimosas out of rather expensive looking glassware, Jane had started prying because Rey had told her about Evan. Luckily Janet, Jake's mum, had spotted Stella’s discomfort and had come to her rescue by scolding Jane for being a nosey bitch.

"It’s Christmas. He’s spending it with his family in Boston." Stella shook her head at her sister.

"Boston’s only an hour or so drive Stel…"

"So what? We don’t get to see our families that often Rey." Stella replied, snatching a big round plate from Rey's hands.

"Whoaa, easy Stelly. Anyone would think you were trying to keep him away from us!"

"That’s exactly what I’m doing, yes." she rolled her eyes at her sister, who could clearly read the annoyance in her features and voice as when she spoke again her voice was a little whiney.

"Stel, don’t be like that."

Stella sighed. "Why are you so desperate to meet him anyway?"

"Hey, it’s not every day your baby sister gets herself a new man. At least not when she’s been dating her childhood love for what? Twenty years now? Come on, let me bask in the novelty, Stel."

"Fuck off Rey, I haven’t been dating Jensen for years and we were together nowhere near 20." Stella protested again, this time her voice a little louder.

"Felt like it to me." Rey shrugged.

Stella grit her teeth. Though her sister was exaggerating it was true she’d been with Jake for a long time all things considered, and doing the whole dating thing during the last 8 weeks had felt new and exciting in a sense. She was enjoying every part of getting to know a person while dating them, something she hadn't been able to experience with Jake as they already knew each other inside out when they had finally gotten together. And whilst that had been nice, and she wouldn’t change it for the world, with Evan everything was new and she had learnt what the cliche I want to know you better really meant during the dates which had following the first.

At the weekend following their trip to DC, Evan had taken her for another meal out, this one at a local Mexican place not far from HQ. Then the following weekend they’d visited a posh cocktail bar Stella had been eyeing up for a while which just wasn’t the Losers’ scene. There had been a trip to the cinema, an evening at the bowling alley, beers one Sunday afternoon whilst watching the Patriots’ game in a sports bar, a walk round one of the local parks with a burgers, grabbing a shake and ice cream on the way home….it was easy going, nice, no pressure… and then it had morphed naturally into something a little more serious.

The Friday before Thanksgiving Evan had invited her to his and he’d cooked, which in itself was a novelty as Jake could burn a pan of water. He’d whipped up a spectacular seafood linguini, followed with a simple baked vanilla cheesecake, and after 2 bottles of crisp white wine, one thing had led to another and they’d ended up making out on the couch before Evan had taken her into his room.

"Is he good?" Rey asked out of the blue as if sensing where Stella’s inner thoughts had led her.

"Oh fuck off Rey, do I ask you how Rick is in bed?"

"Better than Jake?" Rey insisted, ignoring her sister rhetorical question.

"You had to ask." Stella groaned.

Rey looked at her and Stella sighed, knowing she wasn’t getting off the hook. "Look, he’s good, ok, really good…but as for being better than Jake he’s…he’s just different."

As a matter of fact that first time they’d slept together on that Friday, despite Stella’s nerves, it had been fucking Earth shattering, and every time since hadn’t disappointed. Evan was a generous lover, giving before he took, making sure she was satisfied in every which way she could be. But Stella still found herself getting a little nervous beforehand. Evan was the one who instigated the sex, and whilst Stella was a more than willing participant, she was craving the day she finally felt happy enough to take charge a little.

"And that’s a problem?" Rey asked and Stella looked at her.

"What?" she frowned.

"Him being different to Jake?"

"No, I didn’t say that. It’s just…well, me and Jake know each other inside out, it’s bound to feel a little different, isn’t it?"

Rey's eyes suddenly opened wide with realisation. "Oh my god…"

"What?" Stella asked, a little bit exasperated.

"You’ve never been with anyone else bar Jake, have you?"

Stella groaned but that was all the confirmation Rey needed to know she was right. Her sister had hit the spot but she was fucked if she was getting into that. "Look, enough about me. Any progress on baby Fitzpatrick?"

Rey sighed, not fazed in the slightest but Stella’s forced change of topic had redirected the conversation to one of her major concerns and Stella knew she wouldn’t be able to resist talking about it. "No, not yet. I don’t know what we’re doing wrong? We stick to the schedule, I’ve got an ovulation tracker…"

"God Rey, you talk like you’re baking a cake or putting an Ikea cupboard together, that’s what’s wrong." Stella scoffed.

"Science doesn’t lie Stelly." Rey said, as if lecturing an ignorant little girl.

"Science says it’s a matter of PH." she shrugged, a small grin playing in the corner of her mouth.

Rey rolled her eyes. "You know Jake made up that shit, right? I googled it."

"No… really?"

"Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Stella." Rey squinted her eyes at Stella who grinned in response. "And speaking of low forms of wit, did you know Jensen’s new bimbo is coming to the New Year's party tomorrow?"

"Oh, is she?" Stella asked, trying to hide her surprise as much as possible, knowing that she was failing miserably. The news had shocked her a little, not that it was her business, but still.

"Careful Stel, is that a trace of disappointment I sense in your voice?"

"No, I just hadn’t realised how serious they were. Mind you, I haven’t seen him for a few weeks. Work has been busy and we don’t hang out much now." she tried to explain herself without sounding scorned or bitter.

"You sure?" Rey asked, examining her sister's expression as she finished loading the dishwasher.

"Yeah, it’s just…well, you’ll know when you meet her."

And boy, would they all know. Because, Britney was, how to put it? Something else.

Stella sat at the table opposite Pooch and Cougar in the bar, sipping at her beer. It was the day before they were all due to head home for Thanksgiving so they had decided to head out for a few drinks, a way to celebrate with one another.

"So where’s Evan?" Pooch asked before taking a sip from his beer bottle.

"Oh, out of town on some intel gathering trip with the Canadian Ministry of Defence or something…he couldn’t say much. I won’t see him now until I’m back from New Hampshire." Stella offered.

"It still going well or..." Pooch pried a little bit more and Stella flushed a little.

"Yeah, he’s nice…"

Cougar grinned and tipped his hat at her and she snorted, setting her bottle down. "He must be, we ain't seen you out of work for the last few weeks, he must be keeping you busy."

Stella laughed and shrugged as Cougar chuckled and then Pooch let out a groan. Stella frowned, and then turned in the direction he was looking at only to see Jensen working his way over with the brunette she’d seen him with a while back hanging on his arm.

"It's Britney, bitch." Cougar chimed in.

"Wait, her name is Britney?" Pooch asked him and Cougar nodded. "How do you know?"

"Bumped into them at the condo one night." Cougar explained and Pooch's mouth fell open.

Stella frowned and turned around again, locking eyes with Jensen and saw him swallow, like he always did when nervous or apprehensive. But as she watched, he took a deep breath and continued his path over to their table.

"No Evan?" he asked once he reached them, looking at Stella, not even bothering in greeting the rest first.

"No. He’s away." Stella answered, looking back at him but gripping her beer bottle for dear life.

"Who’s Evan, another Loser?" the brunette asked then. Her high-pitched voice making Pooch and Cougar scrunch their noses as they shared a glance.

Stella glared at Jake as a grin spread across his face, daring him to say something and Jake's grin slipped under her glare as he turned to Britney.

"No, Evan is Stella’s…actually..." he looked at Stella, "What is he? Boyfriend? Fuck buddy? Late night booty call?"

"All of the above." Stella answered ignoring Jake's jab and necking her beer as both Cougar and Pooch sniggered and she fought to keep the smile from spreading on her lips at the look on Jensen’s face which was somewhere between disgust and disappointment. Instead she stood up and leaned towards Britney. "I’ll introduce myself seeing as he isn’t going to. I’m Stella."

"Hi, I’m Britney." she said and then to Stella’s horror she pulled her into a hug, kissing her cheek. Stella remained stiff, merely concentrating on trying not to choke on the heady combination of Britney’s floral perfume and hairspray from the huge bouffant ponytail she was sporting.

"So does your boyfriend work with these guys or…?" Britney's voice pierced the air again.

"No, I work with them." Stella explained as she took her seat back.

"What? You’re in the army too? Wow, Girl Power!" Britney exclaimed before giggling.

"Yeah…" Stella said as she turned back to Pooch and Cougar, mouthing WHAT THE FUCK?

"Does anyone want a drink or…?" Jake asked, trying to divert the weird situation Britney had just created.

Stella turned back to him and stood up again. "It’s ok JJ, I’ll get them, it’s my round."

"I’ll give you a hand." Jake offered himself, motioning to follow her.

Stella smiled as she put a hand on Jake's chest to stop him. "No, Cougs can. You stay here with your girlfriend." she ordered more than suggested, making sure her eyes locked with his when she uttered the word.

At her use of the term, Britney giggled and grabbed Jensen’s arm. Jake looked at her, and Stella could see the irritation flash across his face and she smirked before she asked what Britney wanted to drink. The girl requested a Malibu and coke, the worst combination Stella could think of if you asked her but then again Britney's choice of outfit and her likeness for glittery accessories spoke of her taste for itself, and then Stella looked at Jake.

"Usual?"

"Yeah, thanks Stel." he said, a little quieter this time.

Cougar dropped an arm round Stella’s shoulder and as they made their way to the bar, Stella could feel Jake’s eyes burning into her back. Point, set, match to Arty…

"From what I heard it was a total accident she got invited. She was on the phone to him on Christmas Eve when Jane was talking to Janet in the background. Apparently she caught the words New Year’s Eve and Party. Jensen, thinking she wouldn’t be able to get a flight at such late notice, told her she was welcome to come." Rey explained with a grin. "Anyway, next thing she’s messaging him, saying she’d managed to get a cancellation seat so she’s flying in on the morning of the party. Apparently he wasn’t best pleased." Rey snorted. "Jane doesn’t think he’s all that into her, but…"

Stella only shrugged. "Who knows what goes on in his head, I don’t anymore that’s for sure." she commented before her sister could ask more, but she couldn’t prevent herself from letting out a deep sigh. Whilst she had nothing against Britney, and despite the fact she was now with Evan, the idea of being at a party with Jake and his new girlfriend wasn’t filling her full of joy.

The rest of the day was spent in relative calm. Richard came back from wherever he’d been following lunch, Stella hadn’t been paying attention when Rey told her, and the 4 of them settled down for a rather furious game of monopoly which Richard won, Stella passing comment on how it would have been ridiculous if he hadn’t, given he was a finance manager.

It was just after dinner when Stella’s phone went off. It was a message from Evan telling her to get to her laptop so he could video call over the CIA network. So she quickly set it up in the kitchen and soon after it pinged and she accepted the call, smiling as his handsome face filled the screen. “Hey Pumpkin.” He smiled and Stella laughed at his ridiculous nickname for her, chosen due to the way they’d met.

“Hey!” she beamed back “How’s your day been?”

“Not bad.” He shrugged “Usual family bullshit at play. You?”

“Same.” She said, sitting back in her chair “I’ve eaten way too much.”

He chuckled “That’s what Christmas is for darlin’. Way too much home cooking, enough alcohol to fill a pool, and a side of chocolate, pie and cake for good measure.”

“Imma turn into a Christmas cake if I eat any more of it Ev.” Stella smiled, reaching for her wine. She took a sip and then looked at the glass “And probably a bottle of pinot too.”

“Well I don’t have a problem with that.” He smiled, waving his own bottle of beer at her “Food and drink, win win.”

Stella laughed and then the door to the kitchen opened and Rey walked in. She made her way towards the fridge and then paused, turning to Stella.

“Oh my God is that him?” she practically screeched and moved, draping herself over Stella’s shoulders to get a look at the screen.

“Rey, piss off.” Stella grumbled, trying to push her away. Rey took the hint and stepped back a bit as Evan looked at her, smiling, before he glanced back at Stel.

“Who’s that?” he asked.

“Oh, hi, I’m Rey.” Rey spoke from behind Stella who rolled her eyes “Stella’s favourite sister.”

“You’re my only sister.” Stella shot back as Evan chuckled.

“Nice to meet you Rey, or see you in this case.” He smiled that damned smile that could melt a fucking polar ice cap and Stella heard Rey’s little gasp. She sighed and turned to her sister.

“Ok, seriously, get what you came for and piss off.”

Rey held her hands up and went to the fridge, pulling out 2 bottles of beer and a can of coke. She headed to the door and stopped, looking at Stella, her mouth open.“O.M.G He is a snack!” she mouthed and Stella rolled her eyes again before Rey left the room, closing the door behind her.

“Sorry about that.” Stella turned back to the screen and Evan laughed.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s a mad house here too.” He leaned back in his chair. “She seems nice.”

“She has her moments.” Stella smiled, “Anyway, enough about her, tell me what you’ve been up to. We haven’t spoken in a few days.”

“Yeah, sorry I was gonna call last night but it’s been manic. My sister and her 3 kids have been over and Uncle Evan was the star attraction. And by attraction I mean climbing frame.”

“Lucky kids…” Stella quipped, arching her eyebrow “I’d climb you too if I was there.”

Evan grinned at her comment and Stella found herself slightly surprised. The ten days or so they’d been apart had made her needy and she'd be damned if someone else could pull off a simple white t-shirt like he could, and that fucking chain he wore which was hanging out of the collar was doing things to her.

“Well a few more days and I’m all yours to climb Pumpkin” Evan smiled “So, any plans for New Year’s Eve tomorrow?”

“We’re going to a party at the Jensens’. They’ve thrown one for as long as I can remember so it’ll be nice to see them again, catch up. What about you?”

“Oh I don’t know yet.” Evan ran a hand over his beard, tugging gently on the whiskers which adorned his chin “I may stay here with the family or go out with some friends. I’ll make my mind up as I go.” He paused for a little before his hand dropped from his face “Will Jake be there?”

“It’s his parents throwing the party.” Stella arched an eyebrow “Of course he will.”

“Right…” Evan mused and Stella narrowed her eyes.

“Are you jealous, Evan?”

“No, I just…” he groaned “Ok, yeah, yeah I am. The thought of you bringing in the New Year with your ex and not me kinda sucks Stella.”

“I know.” She sighed “But I wouldn’t worry too much. Apparently his new girlfriend is coming.” She took a deep breath before she smiled a little sadly “I really wish you were here Ev.”

And she did, not least because she actually did miss him, but the thought of Jensen eating face with the bimbo whilst she was simply there alone wasn’t something she was relishing.

“I promise I’ll make up for it when we get back to base.” Evan said gently.

“You better.”

He chuckled “Being apart from me really suits you sweetheart.”

“What can I say, you spoil me.” She shrugged.

“And you haven’t even had your Christmas present yet.” He grinned.

“I can’t wait to unwrap it.” Stella smirked “And the present.”

“Fuck, Stella…you’re killing me!” he whined. She laughed and at that point a voice sounded in the background and Evan hastily looked over his shoulder before he called that he’d be there in a second. “That’s my ma…I gotta go.”

“Yeah, It’s probably time I bust Rey for eavesdropping behind the kitchen door.” Stella rolled her eyes and Evan laughed.

“Ok, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, talk then. Night handsome.”

“Night gorgeous.”

With that Stella cut the call and shut the laptop. She stood up, crept across the room and yanked open the kitchen door. Rey immediately straightened up and jumped back. “I was erm…gonna…” she points to the kitchen.

“Spy on us?” Stella folded her arms.

“I wasn’t…I just….ok, I was spying.” Rey shrugged “Because, fuck Stel, where did you get a man like that?”

“The CIA.” Stella said simply pushing past her and heading into the living room where Jules and Richard were watching TV, Stella following her chunnering about Evan.

“Leave your sister alone, Aubrey.” Julie looked up.

“I’m heading up to bed ma.” Stella smiled, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Julie nodded but Aubrey wasn’t listening, she was still talking about Evan.

“God mom, you should have seen him. And that smile…”

“Erm…” Richard waved “I’m right here.”

“Yeah, isn’t it about time you and your husband went back to your own house?” Stella asked.

“Yeah, yeah…” Rey waved her hand, “We were going anyway.”

“Good riddance.” Stella mumbled.

Rey spun and pointed at her “I heard that. Don’t forget we have a date to go shopping tomorrow.”

“Can’t wait.” Stella said sarcastically and with that she bid them goodnight and headed to her room.

**** “You heading out?” Jane looked at Jensen as he groaned, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

“Yeah I gotta go get Britney.”

“Thought you said she wasn’t arriving until tomorrow?” Jane frowned

“So did I, turns out she messed up with the date on the flights..”

“What?” Jane looked at him.

“Don’t ask me, she’s a dumbass.” Jensen rolled his eyes.

“Woooow…” Jane looked at him as he grabbed his dad’s car keys from the side in the hall “That is love, right there.”

“Fuck off Jane.” Jensen raised his middle finger over his shoulder as he grabbed his jacket of the peg. He then paused and turned to his sister, shaking his head. “Seriously, though…when she told me what she’d done, do you know what she said? The mouse was sticky, Jensen and I booked a day early by mistake” he shook his head.

“Hang on.” Jane held her hand up “If she really had messed up with the dates then she would have been on a morning flight still, just on a different day.” Jake looked at his sister, frowning a little and Jane snorted “If you ask me, I don’t think she’s as dumb as you’re making her out to be.”

“Well I wasn’t asking you.” Jake shot back as he shrugged his jacket on and headed out of the door.

At that point Gracie wandered in from the kitchen, dressed in her pyjamas, followed by John.

“Who's dumb mommy?” she asked with a yawn as Jane held her coat out to pop on ready for the drive home.

“Your Uncle Jake, sweetie.” Jane said.

John chuckled “He told you about Britney arriving earlier than anticipated then?”

Jane snorted “Yeah, and considering she’s supposed to be his girlfriend..." she framed the words with quotation marks on one hand “He doesn’t seem too pleased about it.”

“Yeah well, I think we all know the reason for that.” Janet joined them in the hallway, not even bothering to hide her disdain for the entire situation and John snorted. He leaned over and gave Gracie a kiss “Night Squirt.”

“Night grandpa.” She smiled before she took a kiss off Janet too. “Night Nanny” and then she looked at Jane “When’s daddy back from the station?”

“When his shift finishes baby, now come on, let’s get you home.” Jane smiled before she looked at her parents “See you tomorrow.”

Jane and Gracie exited the house, making their way to her car. Jane strapped Gracie into the seat and then moved to climb into the driver’s side and paused, spotting her dad’s car was still there behind hers. Jake was sat in the drivers’ seat, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked pissed, really pissed, but before she had the chance to go and speak to him, he’d set off.

“Fucking idiot.” Jane grumbled to herself, and with a shake of her head she climbed in her own car and headed home.

**** The following morning Stella woke up in a better mood, talking with Evan the previous night had calmed her restlessness and though she missed him she was determined to make the most of the New Year's party that very same night. It was just a few days more and they could be together and she could effectively unwrap her gift.

She was getting ready to go shopping, Rey probably on her way to pick her up, when the doorbell rang and she cursed her sister for being earlier than expected for once in her life as she barrelled down the stairs.

"Honey, can you get that? I’m busy." her mother shouted from the kitchen.

"Sure mom." she replied just as she realised Rey wouldn't be using the front door and definitely wouldn't use the doorbell. With a frown she opened it and blinked in disbelief, her mouth falling open. Evan was stood there, wearing a warm, woollen coat, scarf and a huge, million dollar smile. The bastard!

“Surprise Pumpkin…” he chanted, opening his arms for her.

Stella gasped and gave him a quick hug. “Oh my God…Ev, what are you doing here?”

"Well I got nothing on, you were only an hour away and after you saying you wished I was here…" he shrugged, “figured I could drive up to see my best girl."

Stella blinked again, before she smiled shyly. "You drove just to see me? That’s…wait… how did you know where I live?"

Evan laughed heartily. "I work in intelligence gathering for the CIA, wasn’t that hard."

"Ok, that’s kinda creepy, stalker behaviour." she mused.

He laughed again and winked an eye at her. "Perks of the job, sweetheart."

That damned side smile of his made Stella pause for a second before she giggled and jumped at him. He caught her and laughed as her legs wrapped around his waist. “I’m so glad you’re here, Ev..."

He smiled at her fondly before he kissed her tenderly, his cold nose bumping against hers. “Me too, but are you gonna let me in coz it's freezing out here…”

“Yes, let the man in Stella.” Mrs Stevenson spoke from behind her daughter, making Stella drop to her feet and turn to face her. Her mother smiled at her and then to Evan. “Hi Evan, nice to meet you finally.”

"It’s a pleasure Mrs Stevenson." he greeted the woman back, flashing his smile.

Stella looked at her mom as she pulled away to let Evan in the house, if she was surprised by her daughter's boyfriend showing up at her door she was hiding it very well, and then it dawned on her. "Oh my God, you knew he was coming, didn’t you?"

Evan shut the door behind him and looked at her mom, then to Stella and chuckled. "Clever girl."

"He may or may not have called me earlier this morning to check if you were doing anything and I may or may not have suggested he spends New Year with us." Mrs Stevenson conceded.

Stel gasped and looked back at Evan with hopeful eyes. "Are you?"

"Well, I was gonna see if you wanted to come back to Boston with me but your mom said you wouldn’t want to miss the party as you’ve not made one for 3 years so, choice is yours." he shrugged, flashing a dazzling half smile.

Stella bit her lip, Boston sounded good, the fact that he had come all the way to see her and was willing to take her back to his family's place sounded even better, but she was really looking forward to that night's party. She missed Mr and Mrs Jensen, and also Jane and, though the prospect of Britney being there wasn't very appealing, she thought that maybe with Evan there she could have a really nice time. Thus, after pondering the pros and cons she looked at him. "I’d like to go to the party if you wanna?"

"Then party it is." Evan grinned.

"So this means I get to receive the New Year with you!" she grinned back at him.

"Yeah, guess it does." he said with a smile, one that was also loaded with the promise of a very good start to the year, if you knew how to read it that is.

And then the voice of Julie pulled them away from gazing into each other's eyes "I was gonna get the spare room ready but figured you two would want to share so I’ve left fresh towels on your bed Stella."

"Mommmm." Stella protested, mortified.

"I’m happy to sleep wherever I’m told." Evan, ever the charmer, intervened.

But whatever Stella's mom was going to reply it was cut off as the kitchen door opened signalling Rey’s entrance.

"Stel, you ready? I thought we could head down to…" Rey began to say before she stopped dead as she entered the hallway and spotted a masculine presence, her mouth dropping open. "Fuck me!"

"Aubrey!!" her mum chastised her.

Rey blinked and looked at her mum and then at Stel. "He’s here?!"

Evan chuckled at Rey's reaction to him being there. "I am. Nice to meet you Rey."

"Erm, hi…" she managed to say before looking at Stella, smirking a little. "I take it you want a rain check on our shopping trip?"

Evan frowned at Rey's comment and gave her an apologetic look. "Oh, sorry, did I step all over your plans?"

"No, it’s fine. You can come, we were only going into town to pass the time, grab some lunch." Stella assured him. But Rey wasn't that willing to keep their plans as it were.

"No way am I playing 3rd wheel…you two go, I can do…stuff."

"You sure?" Evan asked Rey. "Coz I can just..." he said as he nodded towards what he supposed to be the door that led into some sort of den, but she didn't let him finish.

"No, don’t worry. It’s ok. You two will want to spend some time together, you didn’t come here to sit in our living room."

"Whose living room?" Mrs Stevenson asked, amused.

Aubrey ignored her mum and mused. "Would be a nice addition to it though…"

"Ok so I’m gonna bring my bag in from the car, be right back Pumpkin." Evan said, blushing a little at Rey’s complement before giving Stella a quick kiss on her cheek and heading out the door.

The three women watched him go appreciatively, until Rey shook her head and asked "Wait is he staying? And Pumpkin? What?"

Julie grinned as Stella groaned. She knew that one wasn’t going away any time soon.

****

Chapter 4 Part 2

#too loose and you'll lose it #jake jensen x ofc #jake jensen x original female character #jake jensen #the losers

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mamsellechosette24601 · 4 years ago

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In the Green vs the real Hildegard's writings and philosophy

Because of “In the Green”, I started reading a bit about Hildegard and her thinking so as to better explore the themes of the musical. I read the book “Hildegard of Bingen: A Spiritual Reader", by Carmen Acevedo Butcher, which was short and insightful, with lots of excerpts from Hildegard, so I’ll share what I got from it in relation to the musical.

1. The symbolism of the colour green and of the sun

"Hildegard called this vigor viriditas, the “green” energy of agape love pulsing through the entire universe. Over and over in her writings, she chooses viriditas to express God’s vitality and the ways His goodness and love charge the whole world with life, beauty, and renewal—literally, with “greenness.” Her unique, creative use of this Latin word makes it something of a neologism in her work. In Hildegard’s mind, viriditas was first found in the green of the garden of Eden, but it is also the green of whatever twig you or I happen to be looking at in this present moment, whoever we are, wherever we may be. She knew that the natural opposite of this “greening” energy was spiritual desiccation (including what we often call “depression”). But, like God’s mercy, His revitalizing viriditas has no limits. Wherever Hildegard looked, she saw that this “green” force animates every creature and plant on this planet with verdant divine love."

"The patriarchs and prophets who prefigured and predicted Christ were the “roots” of God’s divine tree, on which sprouted the most delicate “bud,” who is God’s Son, and from Him grew the “fruit” of the virtues: Humility, Charity, Divine Love, Patience, and their sisters. This is a favorite metaphor for Hildegard, and in her songs she praises the Virgin Mary as the “twig” or “branch” on which the “bud,” baby Jesus, flowered. By her intelligent selection of this one word, oculus, Hildegard has shown the center of her work—that to see God is to grow."

"In one of this volume’s poems praising Mary, “Grateful for the Unobtrusive Good,” Hildegard’s use of metaphors suggests that she saw no separation between symbol and fact. Metaphors were reality to her. Hildegard’s point in this song is that the divinely made sun giving earth life is also, in a mystical way, the life-giving Son of God who as the Word made creation’s every twig, including Mary, and yet was also Mary’s “Bloom”(…) In this song to Mary, the sun (also God’s Spirit) shines on the Virgin Mary, the “greenest twig.” She is a twig, not even a branch; but she is green with God’s pregnant vitality, and her comparative insignificance (as a woman, and unmarried) prepares her for the greatness of God’s Spirit to grow within her and produce the miraculous “flowering” of God’s divine-human Son. Her weakness is her strength, a recurring theme in Hildegard."

So, when Jutta sings “I can see the last of the light / Reflected in the green / Of everything”and we know what is going to happen, we’re supposed to cry at the distortion of life’s goodness

Sun Song gains a much more religious meaning, when we see everything that the sun and nature meant for Hildegard. In her “Book of Divine Works”, the Holy Spirit says: "I’m the divine flame of life, I burn above the golden fields, I sparkle on water, and I shine like the sun, the moon, and all the stars. Together with the loving, hidden power of the wind, I make everything come alive. Remember that I’m also Reason. I inform the wind of the first Word that created all things. I’m your breath, I’m the breath of all things, and none die because I am that Life." (should I read into In the Green’s “Air leaves my lungs/ I’m lying on my back / I’m staring at the sky / I open up my mouth but the air swallows my cry”? Jutta was forsaken by God, completely).

Death Ceremony, with its translation of “O Viridissima Virga”, introduces us to Jutta’s and Hildegard’s quest away from Eve’s curse and towards the Virgin Mary. The “little green branch” seeks the “branch of freshest green”, instead of rotting.

The idea of strength in weakness, which the Hildegards find in First Verb, appears, together with the aforementioned notions of the “green” and the “bud”, in Hildegard’s “Play of the Virtues”. "The virtues and the souls: 'When the world began, everything pulsed with life and was the tenderest shade of green.Flowers blossomed everywhere. But, after the Fall, everything green faded." The Warrior-of-Truth saw it all and said: 'I see what happened, but my house is not yet full. Look at me instead. I’m the image of your Father. Know my broken body broken for you. I’m exhausted. I’m tired of being made a laughing-stock. It goes straight through me. Even my followers lose heart. But remember this. The original abundance of green did not have to shrivel up, and your faith will see its way to strength, until you know the divinity of my jewel-covered body intimately, a gem in each injury, and each injury a bud. Look, Father! See my wounds? Now, let people everywhere kneel before God the Father, who’ll hand us strength on strength."

2. Hildegard’s “Scivias”, where she first shares her divine visions vs Jutta

In “Scivias” Hildegard writes a metaphor of the sinning soul. Turning away from God and towards sin (the “North”), the soul speaks “I regret that so much now! For I was captured, robbed, blinded, and violated. My garment was torn. I was dragged to a gruesome place and subjected to the worst kind of slavery”.

Then the soul repents, and hides in a cave, like Jutta hid in the Undergound: “After I’d said this, I went down the narrow path and hid from the eyes of the North. I went into a tiny cave and wept because I’d lost my Mother Zion. I wept, too, for all my wounds. I wept for my sadness. I wept and wept. I cried so many tears, they absorbed my pain and bruises. Then I smelled something very sweet. It reminded me of my mother’s soft breath on my cheek. That small comfort made me cry some more. I was so full of joy that I cried until it shook the mountain of my cave." The crying out of joy that will force the soul out of the cave also kind of reminds me of The Ripening, especially in this connection to a mother’s love (“In living I have learned/ to love another as a mother/ And I’ve felt that love inside my wicked flesh”) but I may be reading too much into it.

The soul then is persecuted by her enemies, and we are told “Then I saw poisonous snakes, scorpions, and other hideous reptiles slithering towards me. The snakes were hissing. I screamed, “Mother! Where are you?! Help me!” I heard my mother say, “Run, daughter! The Omnipotent, Unconquerable Provider has given you wings. Fly! Fly over these things blocking your path!” And I did." Compare this to “I’m not going back / I’ll run until I die / And when I can no longer run / I’ll teach myself to fly / I try”. All in all, the world of Hildegard’s visions is far from the reality Jutta faced.

The soul faces self-doubt and recovers remembering it was created by God: “The Devil’s poison arrow is the evil robbing me of my spiritual joy. I don’t want to celebrate people or God. I doubt everything when I feel this way, including my salvation. But when God helps me remember that He created me, then—even in the middle of my depression—I tell the Devil, “I won’t give in to my fragile clay. I’ll fight you!” How? When my inner self decides to rebel against God, I’ll walk with wise patience over the marrow and blood of my body. I’ll be the lion defending himself from a snake, roaring and knocking it back into its hole.” It echoes Jutta’s advice to Hildegard in The Rule, but of course, she is not whole like she claims she is. (“When you are whole, you will be like me / When you are whole, you will move confidently / Through your life / And you will understand how the boulder becomes sand / And you will know how to not become sand / When you are whole, you will never be scared / When you are whole, you will always be prepared / For a dragon's attack! / And you will slay the beast..or scare him away at least / And you will never again be the least”)

3. In “The Play of the Virtues”, Hildegard focuses a lot on clothing, as a metaphor for the “wearing” of salvation, as something we’re born with and must keep clean. This enhances how soul shattering Jutta’s experience was, “His hand pulling at my skirt”.

4. Letter to the Belgian Monk Guibert (1175) and Light Undercover: "My spirit is ever illuminated by what I call the shadow of the living Light. It has no physical limitations whatsoever and is much brighter than a cloud through which the sun shines. I can never predict when or how I’ll see it. As water reflects the sun, the moon, and the stars, this shadow of the living Light reflects God’s Word, sermons, virtues, and the things that humans do. Whatever I see in that Light’s shadow stays in my mind for a long time, stored away. I see and understand, hear and know at the same time. I only know what I see in these visions, because I’m untaught. I record what I see and hear, without adding my own words, and my Latin is unrefined, because that’s how I hear it in my visions. I’ve not been taught to write like a philosopher. Also, my visions are filled with images and sounds that are nothing like words spoken by any human. They’re more like a blazing fire and a cloud floating through a clear sky. I can’t comprehend this Light’s shadow any better than I can look right at the sun. Also, sometimes in that shadow (but not very often) I see another light. This is the living Light I spoke of earlier. I’m even less able to explain what this Light is like in comparison to the other. But I can say that when I look at it, every feeling of sadness disappears, and my every ache leaves me. I’m no longer an old, sick woman. I become young again." “Light is in the dark”, strength is in weakness.

5. The entire play gains a deeper, metalinguistic meaning, when we learn that for Hildegard, “When we sing, we repossess some of the Eden lost when Adam fell”. (Letter to the Prelates at Mainz, 1178).

6. Becoming Whole

Hildegard’s visions in “The Book of Life’s Merits” and Underground"I saw a very tall man. His head and shoulders were above the highest clouds. His torso was in a white cloud below this, while his upper legs were in the earth’s atmosphere. From the knees down, he was planted in the earth, and his feet were rooted in the deepest waters of the abyss, which represent the virtues and their power. They are the antidotes to sin, because they have the might to make anything whole. They do this by cleansing whatever they touch and making it holy. They nurture and sustain the world, and they bear all things. Everything on earth steeps in the moisture of the virtues and is made strong, in the same way that the soul makes the body moist and healthy, regenerating it."

In contrast to Jutta’s teachings about the body, Hildegard finds more balance in her writings, as Butcher puts it “Hildegard understood the symbiotic relationship between body and soul. She knew that when the body and soul are not in sync, a person’s whole world is out of whack. While she believed that the physical body is easily wayward and must be controlled, she did not teach that the body is evil (…) Hildegard’s work also emphasizes taking care of the body, because it is the sacred temple of the Holy Spirit”. Against ideas of duality, Hildegard brings “God’s goodness and the essential wholeness of a divine creation that refuses to be separated into neat-but-useless categories of earth and spirit, body and soul, nature and people”.

#in the green #grace mclean #hildegard von bingen #me doing this instead of studying #good thing I study medieval history anyway

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96thdayofrage · 3 years ago

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Mrs. Douglas was the music teacher. Let me be clear: she was not a music teacher, she taught music at the three predominately Black elementary schools in my hometown. She taught at a different school every day and, if you lived in Hartsville, S.C. any time between 1968 and 2006, she was the music teacher. Mrs. Douglas is the reason everyone from my childhood knows the words to “Lift Every Voice and Sing,” the Black national anthem.

Being home-schooled at a young age, my mother hadn’t shielded me from whiteness so much as she surrounded me with Blackness. But I longed to go to school. I wanted to play on a playground and carry books in a knapsack. Having to raise your hand to speak and eating square pizza seemed like so much fun, which is why I cherished Wednesdays with Mrs. Douglas. On Wednesday afternoons, Mrs. Douglas gave me private piano lessons in her home and I was her prized student. I was a child prodigy and–if I could just remember to lift my wrists and keep my posture straight–I was on the path to becoming the next Stevie Wonder or Ray Charles. I was always eager to play for Mrs. Douglas because she had one thing that inspired students to perform at the highest level:

Mrs. Douglas was beautiful.

Even as a ten-year-old, I could see it. Everyone could. Perhaps the best way to contextualize her beauty is to say she was a combination of Thelma and Willona from Good Times. She had a pre-Beyoncé level of fineness that made little boys swoon and little girls belt their hearts out in perfect tune. And, she began every gathering with the Black National Anthem–“Lift Every Voice and Sing.”

It really is a perfect song. God must have laid that on James Weldon Johnson’s heart because, in 169 words, he somehow captured the entirety of the Black experience. The lyrics are at once painful and triumphant without wallowing in our trauma. And when we hit that “Sing a song...” part, we really spill out all of our Blackness. In the annals of Black music, “sing a song” ranks right up there with Frankie Beverly’s “Before I let you goooooooo....” or Ricky Bell’s confession that “it’s driving me out of my mind.” If there’s anything Black America can do, we can sing a song.

Mrs. Douglas did not teach me the Black National Anthem. I have never been in a setting where people actually learned the words or the melody. Everywhere I went, people just seemed to know it. Looking back, this was probably the work of Mrs. Douglas, but for the first ten years of my life, I assumed everyone was born knowing how to blink their eyes, do the Electric Slide, and sing “Lift Every Voice.”

One Wednesday, at the end of our hourlong lesson, Mrs. Douglas gave me a copy of the Maya Angelou bestseller along with the sheet music to “Lift Every Voice,” as if one were necessary to understand the other. She told me that she would be teaching me how to play the anthem for the next few weeks but we could only begin after I read the pages she had bookmarked. In the chapter, Angelou describes her elementary school class singing the Negro National Anthem. I’m sure my piano teacher was trying to stress the importance of the song to our history and culture but all I could remember is Maya Angelou describing her anger after a local school board official denigrated the entire Black race during her grammar school graduation ceremony:

We were maids and farmers, handymen and washerwomen, and anything higher that we aspired to was farcical and presumptuous.

Then I wished that Gabriel Prosser and Nat Turner had killed all whitefolks in their beds and that Abraham Lincoln had been assassinated before the signing of the Emancipation Proclamation, and that Harriet Tubman had been killed by that blow on her head and Christopher Columbus had drowned in the Santa María. It was awful to be Negro and have no control over my life.

It was brutal to be young and already trained to sit quietly and listen to charges brought against my color with no chance of defense. We should all be dead. I thought I should like to see us all dead, one on top of the other. A pyramid of flesh with the whitefolks on the bottom, as the broad base, then the Indians with their silly tomahawks and teepees and wigwams and treaties, the Negroes with their mops and recipes and cotton sacks and spirituals sticking out of their mouths. The Dutch children should all stumble in their wooden shoes and break their necks. The French should choke to death on the Louisiana Purchase (1803) while silkworms ate all the Chinese with their stupid pigtails. As a species, we were an abomination. All of us.

Jesus. Was I supposed to be reading this? Were white people this bad? Was the song this good? And how would this help me play the piano? It did not help my posture at all. I know this was probably Mrs. Douglas’s attempt to ensure that I would thank her in one of the Grammy speeches that I would surely give later in life but, Ma’am...

I. Was. Ten.

Still, enthralled by her beauty and a little disturbed by her reading assignment, I committed to playing the fuck out of that song. And, by “playing the fuck out of that song,” I basically hit the keys harder and with more emphasis (Did I mention I was ten years old?). It was obvious that Mrs. Douglas was pleased. For the next few years, I played “Lift Every Voice” at all the Black functions around town, including Pastors’ anniversaries, cotillions and every Black History Month program. I didn’t even need the sheet music. I didn’t know any other songs. To this day, my entire piano repertoire consists of “Lift Every Voice and Sing.” It was the only song I could interpolate into other keys.

But my favorite time to play the anthem was when Mrs. Douglas’s Combined Glee Club performed. The Combined Glee Club was basically the best singers from the Black elementary schools combined into one choir. Led by Mrs. Douglas, the CGC was the number-one ranked glee club in all of the greater Hartsville area. Not just anyone could be in the Combined Glee Club; you had to be selected by Mrs. Douglas. It was the official verification that you had musical talent. I’m sure some people put it on their college application.

If there was something Black going on, they were invited and those motherfuckers could sing. All of my neighborhood friends were on the Combined Glee Club and my best friend played the drums for them. (Yes, they had a drummer!) The CGC usually performed the Donny Hathaway version of “I Believe in Music” (which, until a few years ago, I believed was a song Mrs. Douglas had penned herself). But their specialty was opening up with “Lift Every Voice.”

If I am being honest, I have to admit that I am a tiny bit afraid of “Lift Every Voice and Sing” in the way that I am afraid of the Holy Ghost or making potato salad for a family dinner. I know how important it is to us, so I am afraid to mess it up. Even though I hadn’t been around white people, I somehow knew it was our song. I had never seen it on television or on the radio. It was like a secret handshake or a fried chicken recipe–It belonged exclusively to us. Plus, if I messed it up, Mrs. Douglas might not consider the marriage proposal I was planning in a few years. Every time I played “Lift Every Voice,” there was a lot riding on it.

When I finally started attending public schools, my mother enrolled me at a predominately white school where I was assigned to a homeroom where I was the only black kid in the class. I’d like to explain how the white kids made racist jokes at my expense but, if they did, I didn’t even notice it. In fact, spending time around white people for the first time at ten years old, I learned more about Black people than I learned about white people.

I had not assimilated the subconscious deference to whiteness that often accompanies being Black. I became acutely aware that white people are not smarter or even more educated than any of the kids in my neighborhood. They were perfectly mediocre. They didn’t know how to double-dutch and they didn’t even have a glee club. In music class, the teacher just passed out instruments and let the kids have jam sessions. How were they supposed to acquire their daily recommended dosage of glee? I was a little ashamed of going to school there, so I led all my friends to believe that I was still being homeschooled until they discovered the truth at the annual Holiday Music Showcase.

Every year, all of the schools would get together for a Christmas program to show off their best musicians and singers. The white schools would have violinists, saxophone players and ensembles playing classical music with terrible basslines. As for my predominately glee-less institution, we learned a special super-Caucasian rendition of “Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer.” I was just thankful that we didn’t have to follow the Negro Mass Choir. They were last on the program.

My white classmates were unmoved as each individual school performed and, with each successive song, I slunk lower in my seat. During Washington Street Elementary’s performance, as they lifted up His name with a perfect a cappella version of “Children Go Where I Send Thee,” a kid sitting behind me whispered:

“Look at all those lips!”

Everyone giggled. I did not.

Our performance was predictably lackluster (probably because I refused to sing). It sounded like an episode of Little House on the Prairie. It sounded like long division. Rudolph’s nose had never been so unremarkable. Had he heard those flat notes wafting through the Center Theater, I’m sure he would have been as ashamed as I was. We trudged back to our seats as the Baddest Glee Club in the Land took the stage for the last performance. Of course, they sang “I Believe in Music.” Accompanied by Mrs. Douglas on piano and my homeboy James on drums, they blew the doors off the place. Even my classmates were impressed because, when they hit one particular a cappella refrain that every Black choir does, my classmates were clapping along. They were off-beat, but they still clapped.

After a rousing round of applause, Mrs. Douglas announced the next song from her piano: “Lift Every Voice.” Of course, all of the Black people in the audience—even the children—stood up. None of the white kids even moved. I was the only person in my entire class who stood.

Mrs. Douglas didn’t play that shit.

She stood up from the piano and glared at the audience as if to say: “You motherfuckers better stand up and show some respect.” I had never seen Mrs. Douglas express anger. And she waited. And the choir waited. She looked. And the choir looked. As she scowled at the audience, Mrs. Douglas saw me standing and smiled. She waved me to the front of the auditorium and whispered in my ear: “You wanna play?”

By the time I sat at the piano and she ascended to the stage to direct the Combined Glee Club, everyone was standing. She looked at me with her usual glance and in one microsecond, my back straightened. My wrists were raised to the perfect 45 degree angle.

And just like that, I was Black.

For the first time since I had read Maya Angelou’s angry words, I was no longer afraid of the song. I don’t know if it was the repetition of playing so many times, or the hand of some unseen thing, but I was suddenly able to play and sing the song simultaneously. And goddamn, did that Combined Glee Club lift their voices. They sang that song.

Our song.

I called Mrs. Douglas today.

I had so many questions. I wanted to ask her why she dragged me around town when I don’t have a sliver of musical talent. I really wanted to know why she made me read that book. I figured she’d tell me something about building my character, giving me a reason to socialize with people my age or how music helps the brain mature. Or maybe she’d make some perfect metaphor about birds in cages.

She did not answer.

I still have a song, though.

We are the song.

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holylulusworld · 4 years ago

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Her decision

Summary: Consequences are something the mobsters never experienced. Bucky and Steve will learn they will get more than they bargained for...

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky x Reader x Mobster!Steve

Characters: Peter Parker, Dr. Helen Cho

Warnings: angst, pregnant reader, threats, mentions of violence, angry reader, I use the word rape & non-consensual (nothing happens but I mention it just in case), mentions of groping, bratty reader

Ours to keep masterlist

Divider by @firefly-graphics

“How did it go?” Bucky smirks, watching his friend press a hand against his bleeding forehead. “Great I assume,” the lamp hitting the closed-door answers the mobsters’ question.

“She’s angry, pissed, and demanding,” Steve huffs, looking at the door. “I will not enter that room again. Not today or like ever.”

“Let me tame this wild little kitten,” self-confident Bucky opens the door to poke his head in. “Look at her, Steve. She sleeps peacefully.”

“I wouldn’t count on her being calm and nice. I can tell, she’s ready to murder you, me, and the whole organization. If not for Peter, I bet she would get a gun to shoot us all,” Steve winces feeling blood run down his neck.

“What did you do, Rogers?” Bucky blinks seeing Steve’s cheeks flush pink. “You couldn’t keep your dirty hands to yourself. No wonder she wanted to kill you with a lamp.”

“A Tiffany lamp, the one my mother gifted to me,” grumbling Steve points toward you on the bed. “Y/N Y/L/N is an angry mother bear, ready to attack when you get to close.”

“Rather when you try to touch her goods,” pissed Steve storms off, not caring if you kill his friend and partner in crime.

“Doll?” sneaking toward the bed, eying the lamp on the bed warily Bucky calls your name. “Y/N, darling I need to talk to you about a few rules. Can you not throw a lamp at me?”

“He deserved getting hurt!” You grumble, hiding underneath the blanket. “Bastard tried to touch my private parts,” snickering Bucky crawls onto the bed, aware you grasp for the lamp.

“He tried to touch our girl, doll. Don’t be such a prude. We both know you came so hard on our cocks that night,” Bucky purrs, glancing at your ass sticking out of the blanket. “I could fill you so good.”

“Is that what you want? Coming to this room to rape me?” Dumbfounded Bucky gasps when you wield the lamp in front of his face. “I agreed to come here to save Peter’s life, not to let you touch me.”

“I thought you know we want our girl back, including nakedness,” not giving in the mobster moves closer to touch your cheek but the lamp hitting his shoulder is not what he imagined would happen. “Doll, we just want you to be ours.”

“I don’t care,” you poke Bucky’s chest with the lamp, angrily clenching your jaw. “I wanted to give my innocence to someone loving and adoring me. Not to two guys who used me, took turns only to kick me out of their house like a random whore they can use. The only thing you forgot to do was paying me for my service.”

“We never pay for sex but you’ve got a point there, doll,” Bucky admits. “Listen, we are bad guys, okay. Bad attitude. Bad reputation. Rotten to the core.”

“You could’ve just left me alone. I had a nice life, you know. No one was paying attention to me but that was fine. I just wanted everyone to leave me alone,” you sniff, hiding your face in the cushions.

“Doll, I must admit at first, we liked the chase. But after the first rush subsided, I didn’t feel good for the first time. I kinda missed you,” you snort, closing your eyes. “We didn’t send Peter to have an eye on you for no reason. We wanted to know how you are doing and if he can find a weak spot to make you fall for us again.”

“Fuck off, Barnes,” you want to hit him with the lamp again, but Bucky is faster. Taking it out of your hand he throws it over his shoulder. “That was granny Roger's second Tiffany lamp.”

“I’ll take the blame,” Bucky smirks when you nod eagerly. “I know you do not have any reason to believe me, us, but we tried to win you over by using Peter.”

“…that’s the reason you wanted to fuck my colleagues. This must be the stupidest and lamest lie I ever heard. Call my parents, they can give you advice on how to lie to me,” voice thin now you sit on the bed, covering your bump.

“I heard about your parents, doll,” the mobster sits next to you, glancing at the bump you try to hide. “I promise, none one will touch you against your will. Steve and I are bastards, but we are not the kind of guys forcing ourselves on a girl.”

“What do you want from me? I’m no one special to you or anyone else. Can’t you just let me go back to my apartment?” Pleadingly looking at Bucky you sigh deeply. “Please?”

“We got a deal, doll,” Steve clears his throat, warily watching your hands ball into fists. “I’m sorry for touching you but the babies, they are ours, just like you. If one of our enemies gets to know you are our girl, they will hurt you.”

“I hate you,” a huff later Steve sits onto the bed, handing you a manila folder. “What’s that?”

“Pictures of Peter and his treatment. He’s doing better, his arm is fine,” you don’t like the way Steve looks at the pictures. “For now.”

“Can you for once not threaten someone? I like Peter, stop hurting him to get to me,” sniffling you close the folder, clutching it to your chest. “He’s a nice guy.”

“Did you fuck him?” Bucky’s voice raises when he must watch you hold the pictures to your chest. “The boy is dead.”

“Unlike you, I do not fuck anyone coming to my path. Peter is a friend and a boy. Jesus, I don’t think he’s at age. The boy is like my broth…,” your eyes water at the memory of your little brother.

Steve nods at his friend, not missing the way you cling to the pictures. “You miss your little brother.”

“I guess I like Peter as I imagined my little brother would be like him one day. A bit shy, but smart. Strong if he needs to and protective. He tries to make the best out of a bad situation,” Bucky nods, understanding how you feel.

“I had a younger sister,” the mobster moves closer to place one hand onto your belly, slowly rubbing it. “Rebecca, but everyone called her Becca.”

Bucky’s eyes sadden when you try to shove his hands off your baby bump. “Where is she?”

“Died years ago. It’s been ages since I talked about her,” you can see tears form in Bucky’s eyes and for the first time, you wonder if he can love someone. “My father, he was a notorious mobster, hard, unforgiving. When he crossed another line, my mother and sister paid the price.”

You gasp, clasping one hand over your mouth. Suddenly too aware of what could happen to your babies you look at Steve. “He’s telling the truth, Y/N. One day after his mother and Becca left church on Sunday they got shot. A drive-by.”

“That’s awful. Did they ever find the murderer?” Bucky nods, giving your thigh a tight squeeze. “Your father, he killed them.”

“It was a massacre. People still talk about it behind closed doors. After my father was done, Steve’s father, Joseph had to stop him. This is how we ended up uniting the empires our grandfathers founded.”

“Bucky’s father, he didn’t stop until his bloodthirst was satisfied. My father stepped in as George, Bucky’s dad was close to starting another killing spree,” you're horrified at Steve’s explanations. Your hands tremble and you feel like you are going to pass out any minute.

“Doll you need to take deep breaths,” Bucky brings you into his arms before you can fall out of the bed. “No more horror stories, Steven. Our girl just passed out,” Steve hums, moving his hand to your belly. “No touching without her consent.”

“I wanted to feel my baby…”

“Prenatal what?” Steve looks at the brochure the doctor hands to him. “I got no clue about this stuff, Dr. Cho. Can you explain it to us?”

“It means we will find out who the father is before Y/N gives birth,” Helen Cho, explains. “I can explain the whole procedure if you want me to.”

“Is it dangerous?” Bucky looks at your belly, not wanting anything to happen to his heir. “We will not risk anything. Y/N must agree too.”

“There is no risk, Mr. Barnes,” you chuckle, watching Steve turn pale when the doctor gets a syringe out.

“You will not put that into my girl,” protesting Steve tries to grasp for the syringe. “I will not allow you to poke her,” Peter snickers silently glancing at you now and then, or rather anytime none of the mobsters is paying attention to him.

“Mr. Rogers, I need to collect DNA from the mother with a simple blood draw. Later we will gather you and Mr. Barnes DNA using a cheek swab. I will not hurt Y/N or her babies,” the mobster eyes Dr. Cho warily, not trusting her with his baby.

“Gosh, don’t get your panties in a twist, Rogers. Months ago, you treated me like trash, tossed me onto the street, and never looked back. Do not act as if I mean anything to you. I’m a breeder to you and your friend, nothing else,” you don’t hide your anger, even purse your lips when Steve tries to argue.

“She could hurt you with that syringe or the babies. What if she tries to kill you?” you roll your eyes in an attempt to stop Steve from saying more stupid things in front of your doctor.

“I’m the mother ans got three votes, you only got one. I have the saying,” looking at Dr. Cho you nod. “Do it doctor. I trust you.”

“I have a vote too,” Bucky grumbles, stepping closer to you. “This makes two against three.”

“Yeah, I’m glad you can count, Barnes but I’m still the mother and got three votes. Now shush and let me handle this,” the mobsters do not like you start acting like a brat, but you are determined to show them you are in charge.

“How long will you keep it to yourself? I want to know about the results too,” Steve grasps for the envelope but you slap his hand away. “Doll, let me have a look.”

“I want to talk about a few rules,” Bucky grunts, tugging at the envelope you hold in your hands. “Y/N, give me the goddamn envelope.”

“First, Peter will be my personal bodyguard. No more threats or I’ll be gone, just like my babies,” jaw tense Steve looks at you, close to just taking the envelope out of your hands.

“Fine. One false step and he’s dead,” you narrow your eyes, at Bucky who suddenly starts to sweat. “No more threats got it.”

“Next, no touching or groping. I’m not your toy,” Steve sighs, ogling your growing cleavage longingly. “I would kill to suckle at those tits.”

“I don’t care and …gross,” you slowly open the envelope, checking on the results. “So, if you want to know who will become a father in five months you’ll give me your word that I will be safe here, just like my kids.”

“Promised, no tricks,” Bucky points toward the piece of paper in your hands, licking his lips. “Tell us now doll.”

“I’m not done,” grinning you stuff the letter into your bra, not caring Steve starts to growl. “You will not play your sick games with any girl again. You are mine now, which means no sex with other women.”

“Wait…you don’t want us to touch you,” Steve points out, hating you grin devilish. “You can’t be serious!”

“No sex for you at all,” both mobsters do not like your conditions but threatening a pregnant girl is not their style. “I want enough money for me and my children. Peter will not do anything illegal again. You will not go out with other chicks, this includes sex.”

Whilst both men crowd you like lions ready to pounce on their prey you hold their gaze. “We have a few rules too.” Steve purrs, dipping one knee into the mattress.

“You will stay here. We will sleep in the bedroom we prepared, together. No other guys, no sex with other guys. The babies are ours, just like you. No leaving us,” you pinch the bridge of your nose, a frown on your face.

“No sex,” you cross your arms over your chest. “I mean it…”

“Negotiable, doll,” Bucky joins his friend onto the bed, looking at you hungrily. “Now be good and give me the letter.”

“I don’t think so, Barnes,” you scramble away, squealing when Bucky flips your over, covering your body to slip his hand into your bra.

“Where is the letter?” Bucky grunts. “Doll, I’m losing my patience here.”

“I will tell you the results if you sign the contract Peter prepared for me,” you smirk at Steve. “I told you he’s shy but smart. Now be good little daddies and sign it. If you do so, I’ll stay and tell you about the results…”

“I fucking hate you,” Bucky mutters, pacing around the new bedroom. You are unimpressed. Legs crossed you relax on the soft mattress a smug grin on your lips. “You’ll get half of my money if I dare to cheat on you?”

“Correct.”

“Same goes for me, Buck,” Steve is still fuming. He had to sign a contract handing you his balls on a silver plate.

“As you were such good daddies,” you coo, lips curved into a grin. “I’ll tell you about the results.” Both men sit onto the bed, leaning closer to glance at your belly.

“Tell us…” Bucky places one hand onto your belly, rubbing it slowly. “Please, doll. Stop torturing us.”

“According to Doctor Cho I’m going to be a mother,” you snicker, turning around to close your eyes. “I’m too tired now. Maybe tomorrow I’ll tell you more. Now be good and stop moping. You’ll learn your place…”

“Learn our place?” Bucky chokes out, looking at Steve. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh-pretty mobster,” you open your eyes, grinning wickedly. “Did no one ever tell you to never underestimate a pregnant girl? You’ll do anything I want you to do when I want you to do so…”

>> Part 3

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ragingbookdragon · 5 years ago

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Forging Paths PT. 4

Batsis Story!

A/N: Y’all I’ve reached peak cringe here. Someone send help because I’m sure I’m gonna combust. -Thorne <3

For as long as (Y/N) could remember, her father never spoke more than he had to; even at parties surrounded by the best of the best, Bruce kept his conversations small. Back when she still stayed at home, it used to drive her up the wall to try and get more out of the man when she would speak to him, but she never could. Eventually realizing, that trying to have a meaningful heart-to-heart conversation was absolutely impossible with the man, she gave up. No use trying when he obviously doesn't care. She used to think, and staring at the man now, she still thinks it.

Bruce took his eyes off (Y/N) and barely glanced around the room before turning and heading out the door and back towards the direction of the cave. "We're wasting time. Everyone to the cave. Now." Damian, Tim, and Alfred were the first to follow after him, leaving behind (Y/N), Dick, and Jason. Dick started towards the door and stopped just as he reached the doorway. He turned and looked at (Y/N) before nodding at Jason, who did the same in return, and left the kitchen. (Y/N) let go of the breath she'd been holding and lowered her head onto the granite bar top. Jason leaned over and draped himself across her back, his chin resting where her skull met her spine. They stayed silent before Jason mumbled out,

"You alright sis?"

"Not overly little brother. I don't know what I was expecting, but whatever it was, I feel sorely displeased it wasn't met." Jason huffed a laugh at her.

"Yeah, the first time I came back and met Bruce again, face to face, I wasn't all too happy with the reaction either." (Y/N) threw her head up, causing Jason's face to get scrunched up until he pulled back and looked at her. Mad did not even begin to describe what she looked like.

"He's always so damn stoic and unfeeling! How the fuck does a man like... like him, have children?! Last time I checked, in order to be a good parent, you actually have to give a damn about your kids, and make sure their needs are being met, and then go beyond that for them! Does he just not care about anything?!" Jason sat and stared at (Y/N); her eyes searching for something in his. Recognition, perhaps? Jason placed a hand on the top of her head and smoothed out the hair that had gotten out of place.

"You're preaching to the choir sis." She closed her eyes and sighed heavily before removing Jason's hand from her head, and squeezing it. Jason understood (Y/N) better than anyone alive, even Dick. Dick, the older brother who she could always depend on; and as close as they were, he connected more with Bruce than her. But Jason? Kid whose entire life has been unnoticed and uncared for? Oh yeah, she connected with Jason best. The two of them were practically conjoined at the hip; where one went, the other one followed. She knew that Jason felt the same way she did, probably more than she did, and as much as she would love to sit and talk about their anger, she knew they had business to take care of. Letting go of his hand she rose to her feet and straightened out her clothes, before turning to Jason and giving him a smirk

"Wanna go raise some hell kid-brother?" Jason's grin turned almost maniacal as he rose up beside her. Craning her neck up to look at him, she never really noticed, but even at her height, Jason towered a good foot over her.

"Hell. Yeah." They laughed as they made their way to the study. Stopping in front of the bookshelf, Jason reached for the book to open the passage. He stopped on the book and turned towards (Y/N). She nodded her head in confirmation and the bookshelf swung open. Jason motioned her, "After you." She mumbled a quiet 'thank you' and began the descent into the cave. Each step only served to darken her already gloomy mood. Eventually they reached the bottom of the steps and crossed over to where the others had gathered. Damian glanced back and scoffed.

"It took you two long enough." Jason reached over to cuff Damian but stopped when (Y/N) grabbed his arm.

"Both of you quit. Now." Damian rolled his eyes and let out a 'hmpf' and Jason just crossed his arms and grumbled quietly. (Y/N) moved to stand in front of the bat-computer, taking in all the information on the screen. Gang and League movements galore right here. She thought. Barbara, who'd been sitting in front of the computer, turned and looked at her.

"Hey, (Y/N). How's it going?" (Y/N) glanced back at her and smiled.

"Going pretty good Babs. Seems like we got a pretty big mission on our hands though." Barbara nodded and began typing back on the keyboard. Bruce stood on the other side of her and looked back at the group.

"Suit up and get ready to go." (Y/N) glanced over.

"What's the course of action?" Bruce didn't even look at her as he responded.

"Had you been here like I said, you would know." (Y/N) felt anger spread through her body and she couldn't help but bite back.

"Yeah well, some of us actually enjoy having conversations with family. Not that you'd know what that means." This got Bruce's attention as he turned and glared at her.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" (Y/N) took a step forward, Bruce doing the same, until Dick stepped in between them. Here comes peacemaker. She thought.

"Enough. I get that you two aren't fond of each other but put away the attitudes and get a grip. Bruce, she kinda has some reason for not feeling overly excited about the team up. (Y/N), you should've been here when he said to. So you're both at fault." Both of them rolled their eyes at his observation but backed off. Tim took the silence as a means to speak.

"Bruce, I know that your plan is a good one, but L.A. sees a lot more gang war and violence than Gotham does. Perhaps it'd be good to let (Y/N) help formulate the plan of attack." Bruce glanced at him before turning to her and tipping his head to the screen. (Y/N) moved to stand in front of it and stared up.

"Alright. The main threat I see right now isn't the League, it's the gangs. You've got Penguin teaming up with... Two-face? Jesus, that's fantastic. Well, I don't see the Joker getting in on this, but we'll plan for it anyway; the man's unpredictable. It looks like Penguin's gunrunning is what's supplying all the arms. The majority of his operations are in Blüdhaven, so if we hit the warehouses where he's keeping the weapons, we can shut him down and stop the flow into Gotham. Two-Face on the other hand is probably in charge of funds, so he'll be focusing on the banks around the city. You stop him from robbing the bank, you stop the fund collection. Now what I don't understand is how the League is involved in all this. It's rare for the League to go out of their main missions and start wars. But these pictures of Talia on the screen mean that it's obviously pertaining to her." (Y/N) turned and looked at Bruce. "She's your baby-mama. Why is she here?" Bruce glared at the boys when they started snickering, before turning to her and responding.

"All I know is that two of her elite personal members were discovered infiltrating the gangs and were killed." (Y/N) stared back at him, confused.

"So what's the big deal? I thought that if they were discovered, it was their fault? Why is Talia so torn up about it?" Bruce went silent, as Damian spoke up behind them.

"It is not why they were killed or how they were killed. It is what they sent mother afterwards." (Y/N) looked at him, eyebrows drawn together, still not understanding.

"So what did they send her?" Damian walked over and pressed a button on the keyboard. Images appeared on the screen and everyone's faces and stomachs dropped. Jason and (Y/N) mumbling a quiet, 'Fucking hell'.

"She received their cut off faces in a box. It is one thing to kill someone…it is another thing to mutilate their body and send it places. Mother has gone against grandfather's wishes and decided to retaliate. She isn't sending big waves of people, but small strike teams. It may not seem like it’s doing much, but Penguin and Two-Face can only build up their numbers back so fast." (Y/N) looked back at the screen and observed it all. "So, what do we do?" She looked back at them and turned back to the screen.

"Dick, Jason, gunrunning and gang war are your best territories-the two of you need to hit the warehouses together and stop Penguin. Tim, you're the best at formulation and stealth-you need to stop Two-Face's money parties. Dick, Jason, when you two finish that, help Tim. Bruce, Damian, and I know the League better than anyone-we'll handle Talia and the rest. Barbara, keep an eye on the Joker and his goonies-we need to be prepared for if he decides to join in on the fun." Barbara nodded and began typing. (Y/N) turned back to the group. "Everybody understand the missions?" Nods went all around. "Then gear up. We have a war to stop." The boys went to go change, leaving behind Barbara, Bruce, and (Y/N). (Y/N) walked over to the table and began checking her gear, making sure her guns and knives were all in place. Securing the wrist blades into place she felt him stand beside her.

"I know what you do in L.A." She rolled her eyes.

"Good for you Bruce." She turned to walk away but his hand shot out and gripped her arm tightly. She glared murderously at him.

"While I can't stop what goes on over there, I will stop it here. This is my city (Y/N), and while you're here you follow my rules." She ripped her arm out of his grip and began walking away. "Do you hear me (Y/N)?" She kept walking. He called out again, this time his voice booking no room for arguments. "I said, do you hear me Sentinel?" She stopped and put on her mask, then looked over shoulder, face and voice icy.

"Loud and clear, Batman."

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fortunamuta · 4 years ago

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Pt.3 Devilman Crybaby Post (anime spoilers)

Alright so this is the last post and honestly i forgot to talk about the last episodes 7-10. Can u feel my depression while writing this, bro the sadness is never ending. I have become one with the mf void, and within it there is no self, no thoughts, no emotions just darkness.

Also TW alot of this stuff is extremely gory and dark (lots of horrible deaths that I may talk about, so tread lightly)

Lets just say things took a turn for the......first of all WTAF Homeskillet NOOOOOOOOOOO (if u haven’t read part 1 of this post homeskillet is Taro Makimura) HE ATE HIS FREAKING MOM, AND WHEN I TELL U I GAGGED AND FELT MY EYES TEARING UP. THAT WAS THE MOST TWISTED THING I EVER SAW AND THE DAD FOUND THEM. Basically the mom had taken Taro away from the family when she learned that he was a demon, also i thought he was a devilman but he didn’t win against the demon so he was taken over. But in the scene when he’s slowly eating his mother, and his dad is screaming why pointing a gun at his son, who he now realizes is his son. Taro’s demon begins to tear up making me believe that Taro was conscious but not in control of his actions. And thats when the tears begin to fall, and the dad was screaming and crying at how unfair the world was and how disgusting the sight in front of him was he couldn’t bring himself to shoot. So then the army guys who kill demons came and the dad begged them not to kill his son, but without hesitation they fired on dad and Taro, subsequently killing both. Akira tried to save them but was ultimately too late and ended up atleast grabbing the bodies and burying them.

The next scene in the episode shows Akira crying while on his knees infront of three graves (with crosses) on what looks like a hill. And I wondered if this was alluding to the three crosses who stood on Golgatha’s hill. This definetly marked a turning point for Akira and how he felt about Ryo. Anyway demons from everywhere popped up and tried to kill Akira at the instructions of Psycho Jenny, but then Miko saves him.

OH SCHNAPP I FORGOT TO TELL YALL Miko is a devilman and sis ate MY KING OF SPOKEN WORD and I think she ate her grandmother too. Anyway she really uses her new abilities to her advantage and wants to be better than Miki M. She later confesses that her jealousy and hate was just her inability to come to terms that she loved Miki and looked up to her, she didn’t like being outdone when she was used to being the best. Anyway she saves Akira from the demons trying to kill him. At this same moment Ryo is having a come to jesus moment (more like come to satan moment) he realizes that he is SATAN. I FUCKING KNEW IT. Anyway he goes on air, and stirs chaos by OUTING AKIRA. If i could throw hands and get my grandma to pray the mess outta that fool I would, damn he really didn’t have to do him like that so the whole worlds now knows that humans can become demons, so people begin to openly attack everybody. Anyway that public call out puts a target on Akira.

Akira and Miki have a moment where shes like even as a devilman he’s still the crybaby she’s always known and love. oh btw Miki now knows her parents are dead and so is her little brother. Let me tell u her screams of anguish THAT SHIT HURTED. Anyway The Spoken Word Squad is now friends with Miki because the main dude gotta crush on her, and THEY ARE SO MF LOYAL THE REAL MVP’S of THE SHOW. (except shorty he really played us) Anyway Akira goes to get answers and confront Ryo and u can see the betrayal on his face he truly still believed Ryo was trying to make the world a better place. Anyway a mob descends on the Makimura household and the Spoken Word Squad says to leave it to them. At this point I am bawling my eyes out, and i’m slowly being pulled apart by the void. Miko takes Miki on her back to try and escape from the mob but those hoes mad angry and for what reason, anyway before this Miki made a twitter post talking about how much she loved Akira i think in the familial since tho, and how even though he is a devilman he is still who he used to be and that the humans are capable of loving them even though they are different. He’s not the enemy they should be focusing on.

So as u may have guesses SPOKEN WORD SQUAD DIED, eversingle one of them, but not without being the baddest bitches every before going out. Seriously Homeslice with the dread had that crowbar and my boi was swinging and taking hoes out, but homie ended up getting over powered and visciously stabbed to death. The same happen to the dude who was crushing on Miki M basically there were just too many people(those people were the real monsters, giving into raw fear to tear into children like that)

Anyway Miko and Miki are making there escape and they end up on their old running path, and its really sad. A jeep comes out of nowhere and everybody a motherfucking automated weapons. And they continue shooting at Miko and Miki until they bring them down, Miko urges Miki to run and continue running until she’s safe and to leave her behind. Miki runs and then the show the screen with them as kids running and passing the baton. Miko passes Miki the baton signaling her death, then Miki continues to run with the baton she’s trying to catch up to Akira who in front of her but she can’t seem to and then someone in real life shoots her in the legs, but she keeps moving and finally she’s able to pass the baton to Akira. At this moment (not me tearing up as I write this) she is tackled by some guy who stabs her and she screams out, calling out for Akira. But he never makes it.

Akira goes to this place where humans have crucified other humans and there are throwing stuff at them. Akira comes and shields them, and cries out that if they should kill someone kill him. In the midst of his crying, a voice over of miki’s letter is played. And like in the bible a little child shall lead them, which a little boy goes up to Akira to hug his leg and other kids follow the mob stops throwing stuff and now some adults are coming up to Akira to apologize hugging him and crying and they help the people they had crucified. In the midst of this the demons convince Track Homie to betray Akira even though Akira was helping him. So he impales Akira with his horn thing, in the process trampling many of the humans who had been standing near, causing a panic. Demons come out of nowhere and Akira gets away.

Now Akira has made it back to Miki’s house after a big fight with Ryo promising to defeat the other. He gets there to find the house up in flames and a mob surrounding it all whooping and cheering. He focuses on the mob and almost throws up finding that Miki, Miko and the Spoken Word Squad had all been decapitated and amputated and their limbs where pushed down on spikes which were being lifted and waved around for all to see by the mob. In a fit of rage and sadness at the fact that humans had done this he releases a fiery blaze crisping the humans in the mob. He swiftly leaves and the final strand attaching him to Ryo breaks. In Ryo’s tranformation to satan they now are naked, full breast and genetalia on display with big white wings. Ryo tells Akira that he doesn’t want to fight him, he did all of this so they could be together. But Akira said he has enough spite and anger for both of then and charges, they have a midair battle and the demons back up Ryo, in the end other Devilman come to help Akira lending him limbs so that he may continue fighting sacrificing themselves.

The fight is long and sad, you can tell immediately that Akira is no match for Ryo. The scene changes to when they were younger as children, playing in the snow and going to hotsprings, exploring and just enjoying each others company. It shows just how pure and adorable Akira was and how Ryo always showed sign of not having any regards for life and believing that the weak deserved to die. Then it changes scenes to the baton passing scene showing the baton being passed from miko to miki then to akira and finally akira trying to pass the baton to Ryo but the baton keeps dropping between then, it happens several time until it drops one last time and the new scene is of the sky. Ryo’s voice is speaking to Akira as he stares at the sky, we see the side profile of Akira and his eyes are open but he’s not responding.

Ryo continues to speak about them as children, then the screen pans to the sky showing broken planets and the earth around them is destroyed all that remains are broken pieces and the heel they are on. No other signs of life. Ryo asks Akira a question, and believes him to just still be mad at him but then he touches his face and says he’s been so quiet. Finally he cries and he exclaims how he doesn’t understand these feeling and asks Akira what these feelings are.

Akira finally hands Ryo the baton.

The scene pans to show us Akira missing half of his body and dead. Ryo cries out to Akira pleading with him to say something, then he pleads that Akira not leave him alone. He continues to sob into Akira and plead to not be left alone as the screen moves further away from them, showing the actual destruction caused by their fight which basically destroyed the solar system.

So yeah, i am one with the void, devoid of emotions, thoughts, and feelings. I belong to the darkness, how tf am i supposed to feel after that. I-i just wanted Akira to be happy, but apparently that was too much to ask. Goddamn THE WHOLE MF SOLAR SYSTEM. I cried so hard my brother was actually worried about me, I had puffy red eyes and couldn’t stop my mf hiccups. and warning i do no cute cry, that shit was really ugly.

So yeah, I thought it was really good, definitely not for everybody though. Imma need to watch some Ouran Highschool Host Club. Also prayed with my grandma the other day for extra protection. But umm somebody please tell me what the relationship between Akira and Ryo because the end scene got me confused. I think it Ryo realizing his feeling for Akira because he didn’t want him to die and realized Akira had always been there for him. So this was def a wild ride, Miki was honeslty a pretty solid person except when she was modeling for that creepy dude. And then sis went to his house and asked for a shower, I was like sis are u DumbDDumbDDDDumb, luckily Akira was there because Ryo out here killing grandmas and was ready to kill Miki back then too.

Also FLY HIGH SPOKEN WORD SQUAD and MY KING OF SPOKEN WORD.

and Taro really was bestboi led astray.

My pain level is astronomical might as well be numb. 10/10 probably won’t watch again unless I need a good cry and psychological trauma. But it was really good all in all.

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hieromonkcharbel · 4 years ago

Text

The path I have traced before you is the path of adoration. Walk this path in the light of My Eucharistic Face and you will see that it leads straight into My open Heart. This is the very path that I would set before all My priests. I want them to walk in the light of My Face, forsaking all darkness, and desiring nothing so much as to rest within My sacred side. My pierced Heart is the wellspring of purity, of healing, and of holiness for all My priests. How much I want them to draw near to My open Heart in the Sacrament of My love! It is enough for them to come to Me, even if they are weary and without words or affectionate thoughts. By the simple act of coming to Me, they demonstrate their love for Me and their desire for My healing and purifying action in their souls. You must learn to remain in My presence, to abide there for as long as you can, for this is the very essence of the life to which I have called you here. When you forsake Me for other things, you are compromising the immense grace I have given you in bringing you here to be the priest adorer of My Eucharistic Face. The healing and purification of many priestly souls depends on your fidelity to this call to adoration and reparation. I have charged you with a grave responsibility for the healing of your brother priests and for the return of many of them to My open Heart. Their healing and sanctification depends on the love you have for them and on the expression of that love by fidelity to adoration. I have elected to associate you to Myself and to My most holy Mother in this work. You are not alone. There are many other souls whom I have called to this life of adoration and reparation for My beloved priests. But you have your part to play in this design of My merciful love and no one can fulfil this part except you. You see, then, that I count on you. But do not be afraid. I will give you the grace to be faithful to all that I have asked of you. It is not you who will do great things for My priests, but rather Me living in you as in a humanité de surcroît, another humanity marked by My priesthood, another humanity in which I can offer Myself to the Father and pour Myself out for souls. This is the vocation of every priest: to allow Me to live out My mission of eternal Priest and Victim in them. This is how, from the beginning, I determined to save souls and to give glory to My Father. And this is why, on the very night before I suffered, I prayed that My apostles should be one with Me, even as I am one with My Father. The prayer you have been saying after Holy Communion is inspired by My own prayer for all My priests:

O my beloved Jesus,

unite me to Thyself,

my body to Thy Body,

my blood to Thy Blood,

my soul to Thy Soul,

my heart to Thy Heart,

all that I am to all that Thou art,

so as to make me with Thyself,

O Jesus, one priest and one victim offered to the glory of Thy Father,

out of love for Thy spouse, the Church…

And yes, I want you to add:

for the sanctification of Thy priests, the conversion of sinners,

the intentions of Pope Benedict XVI, and in sorrowful reparation for my innumerable sins against Thee in Thy priesthood and in the Sacrament of Thy love. Amen.

Every time a priest sins, he sins directly against Me and against the Most Holy Eucharist toward which his whole being is ordered. When a priest approaches My altar laden with sins that have not been confessed or for which he has not repented, My angels look on in horror, My Mother grieves, and I am again wounded in My hands and My feet, and in My Heart. I am again struck on My mouth and treated with a terrible ignominy. This is why I call My priests to purity of heart and to frequent confession. This is why I ask you to confess your sins weekly and to let the adoration of My Eucharistic Face purify your heart and make you less unworthy of offering My Holy Sacrifice. The sins of My priests are a grievous affront to My own priesthood and immaculate victimhood. Every priest of Mine is to live for the altar and from the altar. Be conscious of this, and you will learn to hate sin and turn from it in disgust. Learn this and you will desire nothing so much as purity of heart and holiness of life. When a priest sins, he sins against My Eucharistic Body and against My Mystical Body, so intimate is the relationship between his very being and the Sacrament of My Body and Blood offered to the Father, and given up for the life of My Spouse, the Church.

I asked Our Lord about reading during adoration.

It is all right to read a little in My Eucharistic presence, especially from the Scriptures, provided that your heart remains fixed on Me, and your eyes are illumined by the light of My Face.

In Sinu Jesu

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batskulldrag · 5 years ago

Text

Phoenix by Fallout Boy

Here’s chapter Two

Trigger warnings for abuse, this story has a lot of abuse mentions in it.

Chapter Two: Let It Burn by RED

The trio watched in stunned silence as Payton argued with the receptionist over something and stormed past her. Just to look at him or be near him made their collective blood run cold. Something came off him, something untrustworthy. This was a man who could bend and break people, and he used to practice on them.

He moved past them without so much as a glance in their direction. Good. And stormed directly towards a single room. A doctor took everyone by surprise and blocked his path.

The doctor in question was a tiny morsel of a person with bright red hair and glasses that framed their face. That this of anyone would stand up to the literal worst was amazing.

“I’m sorry, but no one in allowed in this room right now.” The doctor said, all five feet of them standing confidently.

“I’ll have you know that my son is in that room! And you have no right to forbid me to see him!” Payton seethed.

“Your son,” The doctor spat the words back at him. “Has been sedated and is now sleeping. And I have every right to keep you from charging in there and waking him up!”

“I could sue you for malpractice as easy as I could snap my fingers!”

“Oh, on what grounds?” They mocked in return.

“Operating on a minor without parental consent! And denying access to the legal guardian.”

“We did no such thing. And all I asked was that you don’t charge in there and wake up a child who had just been through considerable trauma.”

“Do you have any idea who I am in this city?” He hissed.

“I don’t care if you’re Jesus, you stay out here until the doctor decides that our patient is ok to have visitors.”

“Let me through or I will have no choice but to report your insubordination to an actual doctor!” Many people looked over at him as he yelled.

“You think you can get up in my face ‘cause I’m TINY?!” The doctor snapped right back at him, not moving an inch. “Because if I call security right now only one of us is getting thrown out for causing a disturbance! I’ll let you guess who!”

“You- you should be arrested for impersonating a doctor!” He fumbled the insult as he backed down.

Roman walked up to the doctor as if he were in a western.

“Is this guy giving you trouble?”

“No, I took care of him.” The doctor said smugly.

“It seems like you’re suddenly everywhere, Roman.” Payton sneered.

“And it seems you weren’t home when I pulled your son from a burning building.”

“Well if you were so conveniently there, I think that would make you a suspect.”

A tired, disgruntled police officer came between them. Roman knew them.

“So, you’re the kid’s dad?” The cop, Officer Joan asked.

“I am, and it was my house that’s been burnt to ashes.” He rubbed his temples. “I feel like the world is testing me.”

“Where were you at the time of the fire?” Joan didn’t care about his problems.

“I was meeting with my campaign manager from ten o clock until twenty minutes ago, when I was called and told that my son was in the hospital.”

“Can they verify that?”

“Am I a suspect in this? Why would I destroy my own home, or endanger my son?”

“I have to ask everybody these questions, I asked crazy twin guy the same things.” Joan rolled their eyes, pointing backwards at Roman. “Do you have any enemies?”

“Yes, and more keep coming out of the woodwork.” He shot a glare at Roman. “I’m a very successful prosecuting attorney, I’ve put plenty of criminals in prison and angered even more defense lawyers. I’m also running for mayor, on the platform of clearing the city of immorality, which gives my opponents a motive. And my brother and his friends have started a smear campaign against me. Which I suppose makes them suspect, especially when you consider who was at the scene of the crime first.”

“Crazy twin guy has an alibi that can be verified by about two hundred people. Save your bullshit for your day job.” Joan made a few notes. “If you don’t mind, I’d like for you to accompany me to the station so I can ask you a few more questions.”

“About what? You can’t honestly believe I started that fire!”

“No, this is about a few things we found odd about your house layout and son’s condition.”

“I beg your pardon!” He said through gritted teeth.

“That’s what you say to a judge, not a cop. You gonna come quietly or do I need to put the cuffs on you?”

“What has Virgil been saying!? I demand to speak to him immediately!”

“He’s been passed out for the past hour. And he was barely conscious when he got here.” The doctor chimed in. “He hasn’t said anything. Why? What were you expecting him to say?”

“I invoke my right to speak to my accuser.” Payton hissed, rapidly losing control of the entire situation.

“Me bitch.” Joan said, pulling out handcuffs. “Let’s talk in the car.”

“Payton Foster, I’m arresting under suspicion of domestic abuse, child endangerment, disturbing the peace and arson.” Joan slapped the cuffs on. “You have the right to remain silent…”

The sound of Joan reciting the Miranda bill faded as the two walked down the hallway and outside.

“Doctor,” Patton asked timidly raising a hand. “Can you point me to the bathroom? I think I need to throw up.”

“Right down that way.” They pointed.

Patton darted off and only just made it to the toilet before everything came out. Had Payton really… could he? Sure, supposedly anyone could but, how could they?

# # #

So many memories of Payton just walking out and leaving him or their mother with the baby. Because he knew they weren’t going to leave a newborn to fend for himself. He never once thought to test of Payton would still walk out if he refused. But part of him always knew the answer.

A tornado of his brother’s cruelty hit him upside the head with a tree.

“Another ‘D’?” The taunting voice of his sibling echoed through. “Why do you even try? You should just quit school and see if someone will hire you as a janitor.”

“If only we still had a class system so that people of your skill level could still find work.”

“The only good thing about you being gay is that you won’t be able to have kids to raise to be gay.”

“Your retard called, he realized he was too good for you after all.”

“Patton does that retard know you were held back. That you literally couldn’t keep up with things the rest of us find easy?”

“If you ask me, the retard’s parents had the right ideas.”

And the ever present “What are you going to do cry about it?”

And a lifetime later, alone in a bathroom stall Patton cried about it. After some time, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t need to turn around or say anything to know that it was Logan. Wordlessly he slid his own hand on to his husband’s and squeezed it as if it were the only thing tethering him to reality.

“Child protective services just came in.” Logan said trying to mimic a soothing tone. “They’re going to be looking for next of kin, I think we should talk to them.”

“Is this my fault?” The words came out barely audible.

“No. It’s not.”

“Maybe, but I didn’t help. I may have made things worse.”

“Patton,” Logan stooped down to his level. “It doesn’t make sense to dwell on that. We’re here and we can’t change anything. The important thing is that Virgil is safe tonight, and his father may end up losing custody of him.”

“To who? What if it’s someone worse?”

“That’s why we’re talking to CPS right now. Come on.”

Patton pulled himself together and joined Logan back in the land of the standing. He stopped to splash some water in his face so it wouldn’t look like he had been crying and the pair went out together.

The social worker was a short man who was composed mainly of muscle. He looked like he could punch a hole in the wall, granted the hole wouldn’t be very close to the ceiling, but still. Patton couldn’t say anything about what this guy would do, but he was certain that this one could tackle somebody to the ground. But he had a kind face, and Patton could read him from across the room. He looked so sad as he listened to the doctor tell him about the case. And just a bit angry.

“Boy am I glad he’s not mad at us.” Patton whispered to Logan as they got closer.

Cobra Bubbles sighed and rubbed his face with both hands as if he were trying to wash the information off. They stopped in front of him and he looked them over.

“I’m Patton Foster.” Patton held his hand out uncomfortably while trying to pull his hoodie down over his sleep shorts. “I normally wear pants I swear.”

It wasn’t until this moment that he realized that he was criminally underdressed for any kind of interview. He wished hell would go ahead and eat him as he stood there in just his cat hoodie, with no shirt, and Blue’s Clues shorts (normally made for women, but he got an extra-large pair) that were just barely longer than his boxers, which he just realized were inside out. He looked at his feet to escape eye contact and saw that he was wearing one shoe and one sandal. Never mind hell eating him, he was already there.

Logan didn’t look any better, sure he was wearing longer pants but they were white with unicorn print. And you could totally see his underwear through them. He had tried to cover that by dawning a long coat, but that just made him look like a school shooter. And the coat was unbuttoned anyway. Patton dared a glance at Logan’s feet and saw that he had his unicorn slippers on instead of shoes. But the worst part, oh the worst part was that Logan wore a powder blue t-shirt that had “Paw-ton” written in block letters across the chest with a big old heart. It was Patton’s shirt, and now everyone knew it was his shirt. And they knew what it implied, Logan wearing Patton’s shirt.

Their eyes met in a glance of mutual horror as Logan pulled his coat closed with inhuman speed. They shared the same hope that maybe no one saw. Patton quickly sniffed the air, he couldn’t smell anything coming off them, maybe they were in the clear, at least in that instance.

“It’s one in the morning.” The social worked cracked a smile. “I didn’t think you’d look presentable just now.” He shook Patton’s hand. “I’m Thomas.”

“Oh, ok.” Patton retracted his other hand and kept trying to pull his hoodie down. “I’m Virgil’s uncle. Payton is my older brother.”

“Why are you both down here? We haven’t even started calling the next of kin yet.”

“Our friend broke his arm getting Virgil out of the fire. He called us to get him.”

“Hi.” Roman waved his cast.

“Hi.” Thomas nodded.

“I’m Logan Berry,” Logan stepped up. “I’m Patton’s husband.”

“So, I take it that you two are ok with taking care of Virgil?” Thomas said, shaking Logan’s hand. “At least until we hunt down his mother.”

“She immigrated to Italy after Virgil was born.” Patton stared at the floor. “I-if she wants custody of him, I won’t keep him from her. But I don’t know if she does.”

“Poor kid.” Thomas looked back to the room. “Well, his mom still has parental rights, so we need to talk to her. But if she left the country and left her baby behind, I’ve got a pretty good guess on how that’s gonna go.”

“Then it comes back to us.” Logan finished the idea. “And we’d be glad to take him.”

“Yeah, and we’re all teachers. So, we’re great with kids.” Patton added.

“It’s nice to finally hear some good news.” Thomas sighed. “Virgil’s not allowed any visitors tonight, so you can go. Come back in the morning and we’ll get everything sorted.”

“Ok, I’ll be back in the morning.” Patton agreed. “I’ll be here with pants on.”

His attempt at a joke seemed to fall flat, but Thomas gave him a good-natured smile. Patton and Logan backed away awkwardly before turning around and walking like normal people. Roman joined them and they all got into the car in silence. As soon as the doors were closed, Roman broke the silence by laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Logan asked tonelessly from the front seat.

“You two and the social worker.” He choked. “And dressed like that!”

“We came down here at one A.M to get you from the emergency room.” Logan protested. “We were in a hurry!”

“It would have been weird if we were dressed!” Patton added. “This actually proves that we’d be good parents, because our priorities are in order! When you get called from the emergency room you throw clothes on in the dark and come down!”

“Must have been a good night if you didn’t have clothes on when I called.” Roman snickered.

“FALSEHOOD!!!!!!!” Logan screeched, his entire body turning red.

“I meant to say shoes! You throw shoes on in the dark! Because you already have clothes on!” Patton fumbled an explanation.

“So, Logan has a shirt with your name on it because he belongs to you?” Roman teased.

“You noticed?” Patton whimpered, turning red as well. “Do you think the social worker noticed too?”

“Ok. No one is allowed to talk until the sun is up.” Logan ordered.

When the sun did come up, and it came up rather soon especially for a Saturday, the three had other things to talk about anyway.

“Ok, Patton and I are in one room, and you occupy one room.” Logan began.

“I knew that SIRI.” Roman sighed. “What are you getting at?”

“Well, there’s still Remus’s old room, Virgil can stay in there.”

“We turned that room into a storage closet after Remus went to grad school.” Roman groaned. “I suppose I’ll start moving boxes.”

“I believe that I’ll be doing most of the moving today, given your injury.”

“I can still move things!” Roman protested.

“No.”

“Can I help arrange the stuff in the attic? That just requires me to slid stuff across the floor.”

“I will allow that. And we may find something in storage that we can use.”

“Kill two birds with one stone.” Roman nodded.

“That’s cruel and has nothing to do with-… oh. Right, a metaphor.”

# # #

Patton walked timidly into the hospital whishing he had stayed behind to get the room ready and sent Logan to deal with the paperwork. But as the legal next of kin, he had to be the one to sign everything. He wondered if he might get to meet Virgil while he was there. But what if Virgil didn’t like him?

“I see you’re alone this morning.” Thomas startled him. “But at least you remembered your pants.”

“Logan and Roman are getting the house ready.” Patton said quickly. Why did he feel so guilty, he hadn’t done anything? “They’re clearing out a room and all that stuff.”

“You seem to be adapting to all this pretty well.” Thomas smiled warmly.

“I guess, but we haven’t done any of the actual parenting.”

“What, are you worried about what you’ll do if he comes out as straight?” Thomas joked. “You won’t have time to mess up, you’ll have me breathing down your necks.”

Patton smiled back, temporarily relieved. At least this guy was friendly, he couldn’t handle a jaded, world weary social worker.

“Let’s go over the paperwork and the background checks and afterwards we’ll see if the doctors will let him have visitors.” Thomas offered.

Patton nodded and followed him to administration.

# # #

Logan finished organizing the attic and walked down the stairs only to meet Roman in the middle, dragging up a large wooden object. He used one hand and his elbow to grip it. Tell Roman he can’t do one thing and that’s all he wants to do.

“What is that?” Logan pointed stunned. “And I told you not to lift things!”

“A portion of my own bed from when I was in my teens. I got it from my parents’ attic. Now move, this thing is heavy.” Roman disregarded him.

Logan ran up the stairs, propped the emptied room’s door open and ran down to help Roman with the rest of the bed frame. After three trips, and a good deal of swearing they got all of it into the room. It was then that the truth about this bed came out.

“Roman, this is the skeleton of a futon isn’t it?” Logan asked, ready to face palm.

“Remus set my actual bed on fire! This was all they could do! And he set this one on fire as well!”

“So. There’s no mattress either?” Logan completed the face palm.

“No.” Roman looked at the ground.

“Ok, this will have to do until we get him a proper bed, and we will get him a proper bed.” Logan sighed. “Let’s just put it together, where are the instructions?”

“In the past, no one has seen them in over a decade.” Roman answered hesitantly. “But I helped put it together, I should be able to manage it.”

# # #

Logan felt a migraine setting in and Roman had exhausted his vocabulary of insults from screaming at the futon. An hour had passed, Patton would be home any minute to see what a pair of failures they were. He was at his breaking point.

“Of course!” Roman yelled triumphantly. “We can google futons like this one and use their instructions.”

“Why didn’t we think of that an hour ago?” Logan said in a strained whisper.

After that putting it together only took twenty minutes. This only added to their fury.

“Ok,” Logan sighed. “I’m going to go scream into a pillow, then we’re going to get a mattress for this monstrosity.”

“I’ve been thinking about that. We could get a normal mattress and put it on this, so then it’ll just be a normal bed.”

“Roman, you’re a genius.”

“Wow, you are out of it.”

# # #

The paperwork took longer than Patton had thought it would, and the background check took forever. Which was especially annoying because he didn’t have any criminal record. But all that was finally over, he was now prolonging the inevitable as one of the doctors explained everything that was wrong with Virgil.

“So, Virgil is a good deal underweight and he currently has strep throat. And according to his records, he’s been sick a lot both this year and last year. And there were more than a few injuries. We haven’t had anyone analyze him yet, but we suspect that he has severe anxiety.”

“Ok.” Patton nodded.

I hate my brother.

“He has a few burns from last night, mostly on the palms of his hands and the bottom of his feet. He inhaled a good deal of smoke, but there doesn’t seem to be any damage to his lungs. He also got a few scrapes and bruises from falling off the landing, and he broke his foot when he hit the ground.”

“Poor baby.” Patton exclaimed automatically.

“And the last thing is,” The doctor sighed. “He has a few older bruises on his back, torso, arms and legs. They all seem to very in age.”

Payton if you don’t go to hell, I will petition all the saints to send you there!

“Is-is that why you suspected Payton of… of hurting him?”

“Yes.” They sighed as if the weight of the world was on top of them. “One of the bruises is in the perfect shape of a belt buckle. There’s no explanation for that.”

Patton felt his heart racing, and everything turned red. All he could think of was the innocent little baby that he and his mother had taken care of because Payton wasn’t going to. It didn’t look like they were living in a kind universe, but he really hoped it was a just one.

# # #

Roman and Logan pulled into the driveway with a mattress strapped to the roof and an old dresser shoved into the back. The dresser had belonged to Remus, and for some reason he spray-painted it black, but that was ok. They could paint over that. At least it didn’t have any bodily fluids on it. Hopefully.

Roman jumped out and ran to open the door, only to trip on a medium sized box someone had left there. There was a note on the obstruction.

Crazy twin guy, dude’s going to jail for a while. Cleaned my closet out last month and was too lazy to get rid of this stuff. It’s your problem now. -Joan.

“We have a benefactor Logan!” Roman said happily. “Officer Joan has given us some old clothes and a message of encouragement.”

“What encouragement?” Logan asked, untying one of the ropes.

“Dude’s going to jail for a while.” Roman recited as if it were Shakespeare.

“That is good news.” Logan smiled. “Should we bring up the mattress first or the dresser?”

“Mattress, it should be easier. And there is not a doubt in my mind that my brother put his penis on that dresser at some point.”

“Sometimes I really feel like Remus needs to be sedated and institutionalized.”

They both pulled down the mattress and hauled it inside.

“I can’t believe we’re supposed to be identical twins. That means we have one hundred percent the same DNA! How does that make sense?”

“Only one of you got brain damage.” Logan shrugged. “Besides, Patton’s brother turned out to be a narcissist, do you know how rare that is?”

They fought the mattress up the stairs.

“Sure, but it’s not like everyone in Florida is one, just Payton. Seems pretty rare to me.”

With that they threw the mattress onto the frame.

“There.” Logan said proudly, “A bed and Payton’s old desk, now all we need to do is haul up that dresser.”

“Let’s just get that over with.” Roman sighed.

The two drudged down the stairs and found one of their neighbors standing in the driveway. This one was a particularly annoying middle-aged woman. Single and childless, yet somehow a self-proclaimed expert on both relationships and child rearing. Logan turned right back around and went back inside when he saw her. Roman reluctantly went up to talk to her, it was the only way to make her leave.

“Can I help you?” He asked flatly, hoping he couldn’t.

“What are you three doing? I heard you leave at one in the morning last night, and now you’re going back and forth bringing furniture into the house. Are you getting another roommate?”

“Yes.” A satisfactory lie of omission.

“Where’s Patton? I saw him leave this morning, and he’s not back yet.”

“He has a day job.”

“But he’s not there, I already checked.”

Roman rolled his eyes. Why couldn’t this one be a sweet old lady? Or I nice couple? Or a cute single guy, gay of course?

“I don’t know then.” None of her business anyway.

“You know what I think,”

You forgot to ask if I cared.

“I think it has something to do with his brother, you know the one who’s running for mayor, his house burned down last night. It was all over the news.”

“If you don’t mind Logan and I still have a lot of work to do.”

“Is it true what he said? You know about his and Patton’s mother?”

“No, it is a blatant lie Patton already submitted proof of that.” Roman swung the trunk open and dragged the dresser to the door one handed. “Good day.”

# # #

Patton bit his lip as he listened to the phone ring on the other end.

“Hello Patton,” Logan answered in his usual manor. “Is something the matter?”

“No, I just need some advice.” Patton sighed.

“Well, what is it?”

“Virgil’s awake, the doctors are taking care of him now. And I get to meet him when they’re done. But should I wait and introduce us all at once or do it one at a time?”

He was answered by a brief silence, then Roman.

“Hey Patton,” Roman said quickly. “Logan and I are just dealing with nothing going on right now.”

“Logan! Did you just punch me!?” Roman suddenly yelled. “You just did it again, you friggin book germ! Why are you signaling me to shut- oh.”

“Roman?” Patton asked, now very suspicious.

“Never mind all that. What do you need to know?”

“Well, I’m gonna meet Virgil, but I don’t know if I should have us all meet him at once or do in in little bits.”

“Ok, you’re already there, so I think you should just meet him as you. But you should definitely tell him that we exist.”

“Ok.” Patton smiled for no one’s benefit. “What’s going on with you two?”

“Nothing, good luck with the kid. Bye.”

With that Roman hung up on him.

“Ok, love you, bye.” Patton said to the dead phone.

Patton returned the phone to his pocket and took a deep breath to steel himself. He glanced down at the stuffed bear he had bought from the gift shop, it had a little hive that said ‘Bee Well’ across it. That was the perfect dad joke to break the ice, and a cute animal to boot. He could do this.

He looked through the window and saw several doctors and Thomas talking to a teenage boy. Patton paused. He didn’t recognize him. The baby face had been replaced with Payton’s jawline and Virgil had no baby fat left. In fact, he had almost no body fat at all. That can’t be good. In place of his little blond tufts of hair was long black hair, well long in the front any way. His bangs swept over his face like a curtain. The only things that were the same were his eyes. The same amazing violet eyes. Worry was reflected in them now, but they were still beautiful.

Right now, he was biting his lip and pulling his knees to his chest. Thomas said something and he started chewing on the bandages that covered his hands rather than his lip, the news was out now. Thomas sat down next to him and said something else, at that Virgil put his head on his knees and covered his head with his arms. With his messed-up hands, he fruitlessly pulled at his hair. Thomas talked to him for a minute more then walked to the door to let Patton in.

Never mind. I can’t do this. Patton walked in quietly.

Virgil didn’t look up.

I can’t do this!

“Virgil,” Thomas said trying to sound upbeat. “This is your uncle, Patton. And he’s going to be taking care of you for a while.”

Virgil shuddered, and though he was trying to hide it he was visibly shaking.

Ok, natural greeting. Neutral.

“Hey kiddo.” Patton said softly.

WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!!!

“I know this is a lot to take in, and that you’ve been having a rough time.” Patton paused, where was he going with this? “So, uh… I’m not gonna press you to do anything you’re not comfortable with. And… I would like you to come stay with me, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I mean.” Virgil finally spoke, his voice was strained. “I don’t wanna live on the street, and that’s kind of the only other option.”

Patton walked up to the bed. He knew what to do, it was as if his instincts kicked in.

“Can I sit down?” He asked. Pointing to a spot besides Virgil.

“Do whatever you want.” Virgil mumbled into his blanket.

Patton sat next to him and gingerly placed a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. Virgil flinched. He flinched and made a kind of whimpering sound in his throat. Patton felt a rage burn inside his chest. He feared that if he tried to talk, he would breath fire.

“It’s ok,” He soothed. No fire, good. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“Isn’t that the bare minimum?”

“I said we’d take baby steps. Nothing you’re not comfortable with.”

“Yeah?” Virgil looked up at him, his eyes red with tears.

“Of course.” Patton smiled reassuringly and ran a hand through his nephew’s hair.

Virgil closed his eyes and sighed almost euphorically at the contact. Patton bit back bile at the thought that this poor, innocent kid was so completely starved for affection that he would all but melt for the first person to show him basic human kindness. If Payton didn’t go to hell…

Virgil slid his head down and rested it on Patton’s shoulder. He had stopped shaking and was just at rest. Patton wished he had brought a camera, but he knew he’d remember this moment even without pictures. This one was going in the vault.

#logicality #parental moxiety #parental anological #platonic lamp #sanders side fic #sanders sides

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