#did you know i was almost a pastor myself??

[lokirulzart]

Here’s a big ol pile of doodles of my new boys, please enjoy them! Because I got sick and now I wanna die.

Poor Ezekiel.

[californiaquail]

reading my journal from my freshman year of high school when i was in the cult

[winters8child]

It´s been a long, long time

Chapter 61

We touched down on what appeared to be a remote farm, a tranquil oasis far removed from the chaos of our usual missions. Clint had assured us this was a safe house, but it looked more like the idyllic setting of a pastoral retreat. As we disembarked from the Quinjet, the air was filled with the gentle hum of chirping birds and the warmth of a clear, sunny day. The contrast between the serene surroundings and the weight of our recent events was striking. This place, with its picturesque landscape and charming façade, seemed ill-suited for a refuge for bruised and battered superheroes.

We approached the front door with a sense of cautious curiosity. Clint broke the silence, calling out, "Honey?"—a code word, I assumed, though it felt oddly domestic against the backdrop of our tense situation. The interior of the house mirrored the exterior’s warmth and homeliness. It was an inviting space, filled with personal touches and an undeniable sense of lived-in comfort.

A sweet-faced woman emerged from the kitchen, her expression shifting from surprise to warmth as she took in the sight of us. She held a stack of children’s drawings, their colorful chaos a stark contrast to the disciplined order of our lives. Her rounded belly hinted at the presence of another family member yet to join us.

"Hi," she greeted, her voice soft and welcoming, as Clint moved toward her. They exchanged a brief, affectionate kiss, a silent conversation in their embrace. "This is an agent of some kind," Tony remarked, his tone edged with curiosity and confusion. "Gentlemen, this is Laura," Clint introduced, his arm draped casually over her shoulder in a gesture of intimacy.

Laura’s smile was warm and genuine as she waved. "I know all of your names," she said with a light-hearted chuckle as if our superhero identities were part of her everyday life.

The sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway before two small figures burst into the room. The children raced toward Clint, their faces lit up with unrestrained joy as they leaped into his arms. The surprise on our faces was palpable; Clint had never mentioned having a family.

Tony’s voice cut through the surprise with a touch of sarcasm, "These must be the smaller agents." “Did you bring Auntie Nat?” The little girl’s voice was brimming with eager anticipation, her eyes wide with hope. Nat’s face brightened with a radiant smile as she stepped forward, her demeanor playful yet tender. “Why don’t you give her a hug and find out?” she replied with a teasing, almost daring tone.

The girl didn’t hesitate; she flung herself into Nat’s arms with unrestrained joy. The sight of Nat holding the child was profoundly moving. Her expression, a mixture of warmth and wistfulness, seemed to convey a depth of feeling that resonated deeply with me. Given what Nat had shared about her struggles with infertility, witnessing this moment of connection was both heartwarming and poignant.

“Sorry for barging in on you,” Steve said, his tone sincere as he glanced around the cozy living room. Tony chimed in, his voice tinged with a mix of apology and humor, "Yeah, we would have called ahead, but we were busy having no idea that you existed".

Clint, with his arms comfortably draped around his wife and son, offered a reassuring smile. "Yeah, well Fury helped me set this up when I joined. He kept it off S.H.I.E.L.Ds files, I would like to keep it that way. I figure it's a good place to lay low." His explanation was casual, yet it carried an undercurrent of seriousness, revealing the importance of this hidden sanctuary in their lives.

The idyllic family scene stirred something deep within me, a bittersweet pang of longing. It was a vision of the life I had once imagined for myself—simple, serene, and filled with love. Facing the stark reality that this dream would forever remain out of reach was a painful truth, one that cut deeper than I was willing to admit. Overwhelmed, I stepped outside for a breath of fresh air, resting my weight against the cool railing of the porch.

As I tried to gather my thoughts, Thor, his face etched with tension, strode past me, his brow furrowed in determination. Steve followed closely behind, a look of concern on his face. Thor’s voice, laden with frustration, echoed in the crisp air. “I need answers. I won’t find them here,” he declared, before vanishing into the clouds above with a flash of impatience.

Steve’s gaze shifted to me, his worry evident as he took in my pale complexion. “Are you okay? You look pale,” he said, his voice filled with genuine concern. I hadn’t shared with him the turmoil I was feeling, but seeing Laura and her family had unearthed a well of guilt I could no longer suppress. The weight of it had multiplied tenfold, consuming my thoughts and leaving me unable to push it aside any longer.

I let out a weary sigh as he laced his fingers with mine, feeling an unexpected calm wash over me from the simple touch. There was something about the way his hand enveloped mine that brought a sense of peace I couldn’t quite explain. “The things that witch showed me... I can’t escape them. They keep replaying in my mind, and it’s tearing me apart,” I confessed, my gaze fixed intently on our intertwined hands.

Laura appeared in the doorway, her face illuminated by a warm, welcoming smile. “You guys can head upstairs; your room is ready. Just make yourselves at home,” she said cheerfully.

We expressed our gratitude to Laura and ascended the staircase, our hands entwined, finding solace in each other's touch. Once we reached the room, we gently closed the door behind us, sealing out the outside world. The room was a serene retreat, adorned in calming shades of blue. A king-sized bed, draped in rich teal bedding, dominated the space, while a white vanity stood poised against the wall opposite the bed. The room exuded a tranquil charm, with its soothing color palette and soft lighting. A small, neat bathroom, featuring a clean, modern shower, was tucked discreetly off to one side.

Steve placed his shield carefully in a corner, its metallic sheen catching the light momentarily before he removed his suit and boots. With a heavy sigh, he sank onto the edge of the bed, his posture reflecting the weariness of the day.

I moved toward the bathroom, feeling the need to wash away the day’s weariness. As I stepped inside, the cool splash of water against my face offered a momentary reprieve. I noticed Steve standing in the doorway, his expression a mixture of concern and empathy as he watched me.

“You can talk to me,” he said, his voice steady as he crossed his arms. The tight fabric of his shirt highlighted the defined contours of his broad chest and muscular arms, making his presence both reassuring and imposing. I gazed at my reflection in the mirror, the weight of countless unspoken words pressing down on me. I struggled to find where to begin.

Turning toward him, I leaned against the sink, feeling its cool surface beneath my hands. “She showed me something,” I began, my voice trembling. “She showed me you... you died in my arms. You looked at me... my hands were covered in your blood...” I faltered, the vivid memory choking my words.

Without a word, he gently guided me to the edge of the bed, his touch both firm and reassuring. As I sank down, the room seemed to contract around us, the weight of our shared pain pressing heavily in the confined space. "You died because I killed you, Steve," I confessed, my voice faltering, the words catching in my throat. His fingers began a soothing, rhythmic motion across my back, offering a silent comfort.

"You would never do such a thing," Steve's voice rumbled softly, filled with conviction and warmth. Yet, the depth of my anguish seemed to defy his words. "It’s not just that," I continued, my voice trembling as tears began to well in my eyes. "She showed me... I was pregnant. But there was so much blood... and I lost it." The tears finally spilled over, tracing silent paths down my cheeks as I struggled to contain the storm of emotion within me.

His expression darkened as the weight of my words settled over him, the memory of discovering my pregnancy before clearly haunting him. I could see the pain etched in his features, mirroring my own turmoil. As I began to speak, the floodgates opened, and the words tumbled out in a raw, unfiltered stream.

"I want it, Steve. I want this," I said, my voice breaking. I gestured helplessly around us. "I want a family, a simple, ordinary life. I couldn't admit it before because the pain was too overwhelming." Tears streamed down my face, each one a testament to the heartache I had buried.

"The loss of my baby... it hurts so much. If I had fully faced it, I'd have had to confront the truth that all I ever wanted was a family."

The realization of what I had lost seemed to engulf me, the depth of my longing and sorrow blending into a profound sense of grief and yearning. The unspoken truth about the family I could have had with Bucky lingered heavily in the air between us.

A sense of regret gnawed at me—perhaps I shouldn't have revealed so much. But as I reflected on it, I realized I was already burdened by too many secrets. The weight of honesty seemed both a relief and a burden, casting a shadow over the fragile moment we shared.

“We can still have it,” he whispered, his gaze locking onto mine with a mixture of hope and sorrow. He gently cradled my hands in his, turning his whole body to face me. “We can have a family when all of this is over,” he continued, his voice imbued with a tender determination. “We can buy a house, just like this one. We can get married, have children...” His smile, though tinged with sadness, was bright with the promise of a future we could still dream of. As he spoke, he painted a vivid picture of a life beyond the chaos, filling the space between us with a hopeful vision of what could be.

The vision he painted sounded like the perfect life. I could almost see myself standing on a porch, watching our children play with Steve, their laughter echoing in the air. The image brought a sense of calm to my restless mind, offering a fleeting moment of peace. Yet, despite the soothing picture, it felt strangely distant, as if I were peering into someone else’s life rather than my own.

Tags: @capswife

Next Chapter

[enby-wrights]

(warning i do not understand how tumblr works i have been on here for like two months and gathered absolutely nothing so i apologize if i did something wrong with like tags and the like? also i think i kind of sound like a youth pastor towards the end of this but it’s okay i do what i want. anyways)

greetings marble hornets fanbase i just have some (long) thoughts to share on tim and alex :) i have some Mental Health Hot Takes that are not worded well because i wrote this at one in the morning but feel free to read anyways. also i know that the marble hornets mental illness allegory conversation has been done to death but please let me throw in my two cents i am just a little guy and i even said please

in all my six long years traversing the Deep Dark Depths of the marble hornets fanbase, i’ve never been all that interested in exploring any kind of close relationship between alex and tim within the story-- i think 2006 alex comes off as a bit desperate and overbearing, and i think that would have made 2006 tim a little too anxious to attempt to get close to him. it’s just interesting to think that they wouldn’t quite fit together at the only point in their lives where they would have had the chance.

their position in the overall story as narrative foils to one another, however........... now that’s a tasty character dynamic if i do say so myself :) although essentially all of season three revolves around the conflicts between people as they react to the mental illness metaphor operator in their own Fun And Unique ways, alex and tim are undoubtedly the poster children of this concept. both of them begin dealing with almost identical issues, and their reactions to these issues shape their individual narratives in completely opposite directions. i was thinking about it while listening to the podcast great, more tapes today (which if you haven’t listened to it i totally recommend it even though it has been dead for a year) and it’s kind of a really great allegory for the ways in which people’s reactions to experiences with mental illness can either make or break our recovery. as someone who has intentionally made my own recovery worse on multiple occasions out of general manic faux edginess, the parallels kind of hit me really hard

i’m gonna highlight the differences between alex and tim’s reactions to the mental illness metaphor operator using a bullet point list because i’m autistic and all of my thoughts occur in bullet point lists actually

during the filming of alex kralie’s marble hornets, as their symptoms are both beginning to set in, we see alex alone incredibly often. tim, on the other hand, is always seen surrounded by other people (this also comes down to the contexts in which they were filming but whatever it’s artistic framing or something idk)

tim seeks medical attention. duh. i think it’s probably pretty safe to assume that alex did not seek any sort of medical attention for his mental health issues leading up to all that murder, otherwise there maybe wouldn’t have been murder

aside from seeking medical help, we also see tim seeking help (or at least visibility) from his peers. entry #66 is just tim yelling at jay about how scared he is. and even if jay isn’t really much help, he can at least see where tim is coming from in the future and has the opportunity to act accordingly (he does not take this opportunity but hey at least it’s there. as alex’s condition worsens, all we see is him lying to his loved ones about what’s going on. which is bad.

alex constantly walks in anger and fear. tim doesn’t stifle his emotions (i.e. him beating the shit out of jay), but he also acts logically and doesn’t dwell on them for too long

by season three alex is just fucking living all alone in the woods (which if you didn’t know is the opposite of seeking help)!! not only is he running around in an echo chamber but he chose to bring a gun into the echo chamber with him which is a really great way to become more mentally ill. tim on the other hand has a job, and a life, and people in his life who at least care enough about him to call him and see if he’ll be at work on time. he keeps busy and he interacts with the world around him and even when he’s having to constantly check in with his doctor to make sure he stays okay he is out and about and being a person

and it’s a weird thing to think about because when i’m at my worst psychologically i tend to bring a (METAPHORICAL) gun into my own echo chamber and sulk around in there until i start to believe some pretty shitty things about the world around me

but on the few occasions where i do manage to reach for help and respect my feelings while still existing outside myself it’s a miraculous feeling. i get better. and then i get worse again, because mental illness is a bitch, but it gets easier and easier to reach out every time.

and i think that’s part of the reason why alex gets eaten up by the idea of the operator while tim doesn’t. tim has experience with getting help, and he’s clearly developed a skill for taking care of himself. he just got lucky that his first time dealing with a mental health crisis wasn’t as fucked up as alex’s.

anways tldr alex kralie is my new example for what not to do in my mental health recovery journey also he’s a bitch 

(ps i don’t understand how i got to the end of this rant without mentioning masky a single time but i promise he fits into the mental illness allegory somewhere probably maybe)

[natsaffection]

this is probably a weird request/idea, but i thought like a small prompt related to the series where nat says verbally she loves y/n for the first time and y/n reacts to that, or like little headcanons of their "firsts" like, first ily, first idk crying if that makes sense? 🤍

A/N: FIRST OF ALL, THERE ARE NO WEIRD REQUESTS OR IDEAS!!! THEY ARE ALL GREAT, and I’m thankful for everyone who will take their time to send one. <3

So, thank you to this wonderful ano Person to send it, I hope you like it :)) I made a mix of story and headcanons for youu.

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‎Warnings: None

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Natasha says “I love you.” for the first time:

(I didn’t even realized she had never said it to you)

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It was late in the evening, and you were currently still alone in the house, as Natasha was on her way from work. Months passed after your life changed drastically. You are engaged, after all?! 

So it was time to start making plans. However, you shied away from doing that in front of Natasha, not knowing what she would think of the whole thing. You got to know her as a withdrawn person. Not with you, but around others. 

You've been sitting in front of your IPad for hours looking for inspiration for your wedding, your dress, the dressing code, that you didn't even realize Natasha was already back until you feel her arms around you,

"Hello, my future..." You are startled and almost out of reflex throw the IPad all over the living room, "Nat! Don't scare me like that!" Natasha was anything but Stupid, thus she knew immediately that you had something to hide. "What did you do?" 

"N-Nothing!" You try to crawl to the Ipad to turn it off, however Natasha was faster and snatches it away from you, "You have one more chance to tell me before I look at it myself." You didn't want to. You don't want her to see the plans! Not because you're afraid she won't like it after all, but rather that you want it to be a surprise as well....

"Don't do it, please..NO!-" She pretends to lift it and had to laugh at your reaction, "Y/n what's so bad you have to hide it from me, hm? Talk to me."

She puts it aside as she trusts you more than others. She knew it wouldn't be bad. You sigh out as she puts it on the table and sits down with you.

"Well..What uh.." You nervously play with your engagement ring..Natasha watched and put a hand over it, "Stop that..Now shoot." 

You know she won't stop until you tell her, "Iwaslookingatweddingspictures.." You mumble too fast again and Natasha has to laugh, "Y/n, I didn't understand a thing."

"I was looking at wedding pictures!" You snap back, ready for a discussion. But Natasha continued to look at you gently, "So what's the big deal?" You were about to start saying your prepared sentences until they caught in your throat, "Huh?"

"What, huh? What's the big deal?" She laughs and gets up to take off her jacket. You stand up with her and walk after her. "So you don't mind?" She hung up the jacket and stopped, "Why on earth would I mind?" You look down, 

"Well..I-I thought you wouldn't like..parties, I mean."

She comes up to you and looks at you again, "Parties? Y/n that's anything but a cheap party..This is going to be the most important and best day for me, okay? Just because I get to spend the day with you and no one else..." You look up at her pouting, "So it wouldn't be a problem for you if more than one person came? Roses will be standing everywhere? And-"

"I wouldn't care if the pastor stood in front of us in an angel costume. I love you, and I'm going to put that in writing that day, no matter what." Your eyes widen. It's the first time she's really used those three words. You know she loves you, she shows it every time, but she hasn't said it yet, "What's wrong?" She asks, "You.. said you love me..." 

"Y/n what's wrong with you today?" she laughed, "Well, you've never said it! Which is definitely not a prejudice, I'm-" she interrupted you as she kissed you, "I love you, I love you and...I love you." She slaps you all over until you had enough and laughed it off.

From that day on, Natasha said this to you every other time she saw you. Whether in a meeting, watching a movie, and so on. She and you didn't even notice that much that you didn't say that to each other every third time, because your presence was already saying enough. 

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‎

When you come home crying for the first time:

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Your eyes felt heavy. You came from a stressful day at work. You did nothing wrong, on the contrary, you brought a huge success to the company. You were so damn proud of yourself that you started crying right away, and your colleagues who were celebrating you, were not helping at all.

The day was perfect, but also exhausting because of the thing. So you came home and were immediately ready for bed and Natasha's arms. You came in and at that moment, Natasha came out of the kitchen, "There she is, how-" She stopped moving, and her happy face changed to a worried one, "Have you been crying? What happened?" She came at you like a gazelle, and you were so damn emotional about it that you started crying again, which alarmed Natasha even more.

She looked confused and immediately angry at the person who brought you home, thinking something had happened to you, "Hey, hey, Y/n are you okay?! Did anyone hurt you? Talk to me..." Fuck, you need to calm down or Natasha will run amok, "N-No-everything is fine-"

"Everything's fine?! You're crying!" Now a quiet giggle came out, "I made the biggest sale of the month today." You look at her with red eyes and could see the confused looks, "What?" 

You explain the situation to her and slowly it all made sense to Natasha too. "God, I thought I did something wrong! Or worse, someone did something to you!" You had to hide your laughter in your hands, "I'm sorry..." You had to laugh so hard, that Natasha thought you were going to start crying again. She was so damn overwhelmed with the situation. "Baby, please stop, okay? I'd rather see you cry differently, but not like this..." She wipes your tears away with her finger, and you got a little flustered with the statement, "I think that can be arranged...”

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‎

Your first birthday:

‎

Natasha was discreetly excited that day.

She canceled all her appointments that day to spend with you.

Weeks before, she innocently asked for things you've always wanted to do and booked them in the same second.

You, on the other hand, were relaxed. You thought you were going to have a relaxing day or evening...with something cooked and that was it. You didn't want any gifts from her, you already had her.

But Natasha? Well..your whole living room was filled with gifts. 

She had made it her mission to get them. In the past, she would have sent someone, but for you? She'll do anything.

On your day itself, you wake up to Natasha already sitting next to you with homemade breakfast, "Happy Birthday, Detka."

You were so surprised and excited at the same time that you almost throw the tray from Natasha's hand.

Your first gift from her was that you didn't have to go to work today. You protested, but Natasha, as always, didn't let up.

Afterward, you made it a relaxing morning, and she led you into the living room, where your chin dropped. 

Balloons floated everywhere, your name showed up big in letters, and little boxes were packed everywhere. 

Natasha could melt here and now over your reactions

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First family meeting:

‎

You were scared, you were nervous, you wanted to disappear.

But Natasha was always by your side

She knew you were insecure about your age difference and afraid of your parents' reaction.

But they reacted fantastically. Your dad got along with Natasha right away as they both have the same mindset about business, and your mom was just happy that you found such a nice and sweeping person.

And then you dropped the bombshell.

“We're engaged."

The faces were divine, and your mom even had tears in her eyes 

They were the first to raise their hand for wedding planning

‎

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First time picking up Natasha from work:

‎

You were excited when Natasha left for work, knowing you'd be picking her up today

 Exactly. She knew nothing about it

You count the hours and your hands started sweating as you set off.

Before that, you let Natasha's driver know and sent him home.

So you stood in your garage and chose the most eye-catching car. A red Ford Mustang

At the Company, the unfriendly receptionist at Natasha's door wouldn't let you in, of course.

“I'm pretty sure Ms. Romanoff doesn't have time for you right now."

Oh how you wanted to see her reaction. 

So you stuffed yourself confidently and walked through Natasha's door.

The woman yelled out, and as you walked through the door, she practically fell after you,

“M-Ms Romanoff, I tried to hold her back, b-but that piece of-"

“Y/n?" Natasha saw you, got up from her table and walked over to you to kiss you

You could see the woman from earlier understand that she made a big mistake when she looked at the two of you and saw your engagement rings on each other fingers.

“Oh, god, th-that- I'm sorry ms-"

“Get out."

You were practically met with a gust of wind. 

Natasha was so surprised and delighted that she left all her work and went home with you.

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[colonyorats]

So, all credit to my very close friend @silly-boi-broski for reminding me of this song because I need to write a whole entire other post about my relationship with this song and how I kept thinking about it and how well it fits with both my life and probably my favorite book, Hell Followed with Us.

*Deep breath*

I grew up in a very very religious household (I still live in one). My dad's a pastor, my mom works with the youth groups, and I was heavily involved from day one. I was taught to "Love thy neighbour" and that everyone deserved a chance at heaven, that Jesus loves everyone no matter what but at the same time I watched as the very same people would turn around and chase the teen mom out of church or shun the kid who came out as queer and whatever other bullshit things they did.

I remember people at my church saying the most racist and terrible shit ever, like, the kind of things people say on Twitter nowadays but in real life infront of the Pastor and his literal child.

Then, we moved somwhere else and I got sent to a private school up until 5th grade and saw the hate the teachers spread and how a bunch of people bullied this one kid because he was of color and all the rest of us where white and it was so bad that he had to be transferred to a different school the next year because of it but I didn't understand it at the time and he was my best friend so I was so fucking confused.

Same thing happened to a kid in a wheelchair, and, while it wasn't as bad for me, I was, and still kinda am, the fat kid so that made it suck on my part since I heard comments from adults saying things to my mom like "She'd be so much more beautiful if she lost a few more pounds" which, hello??? That's a fucking terrible thing to say about a literal 10 year old child.

That was about the same time I started questioning if any of it was really real and I had a huge drop in my mental health and personally went through hell and back during a bunch of personal stuff I won't get into right now, but involved a lot of questioning my identity and shit and a lot of family drama.

That's when sometime during 2022 my friend (also @silly-boi-broski) suggested me a book called Hell Followed with Us because he was going through some similar stuff. I was skeptical at fist but then I read it and was blown away that someone was writing about similar feelings I had.

The rage and justice I felt while reading it almost broke me because I had grown up in an environment, while not as literally deadly as Benji, was so similar to it that I freaked out and had to put the book down at times. I finally finished it and I felt so seen and understood that I couldn't not want to talk and ramble about it and now I've reread it more times than I can count and everytime it makes me feel so understood.

Fuck, then I remembered the song he sent me and hearing that for the first time made me feel all the same things I did when reading HFWU and it just shocks me.

While I don't align myself with the church in any way, I think I still believe. Kind of like how Faith said it in the book, "I do, actually. And I'm still trying to figure out how I feel about that. Talking to friends--you know, Sadaf is Muslim, Salvador is Catholic, Carly is Jewish--to see if anything clicks. Or if I'm just going to have to deal with believing in the same kind of God those motherfuckers do... I guess what I'm saying is, I believe in something, and I don't know what to do with it, and maybe, I don't actually believe in anything at all, and I just want to because I hate the idea of Trevor being faced with nothing." (-page 55 of the US edition paperback of HFWU)

This is already so long so I'll stop but I still have so much to say about this book and this song but I'll save that for another day.

Here's the song I was talking about btw

[phantomoftheorpheum]

In my opinion, there were plot holes in the season that are really off-putting. But I also think the writers were just really unwise about their narrative time. With 2 episodes less than the first season, they did not balance their characters and storylines well.

I’m flabbergasted about the amount of time that was spent on the love triangle (I refuse to waste anymore brain power complaining about.. all of that). We could have had less of that in favor of:

- Giving Mouse a real storyline > making Ash more prominent, giving her grandmother an actual purpose or just cutting the character all together.

- Showing us the character development that they only tell us Greg has gone through.

- Follow through with Imogen’s mental health, hallucinations scares, and concerns for her child’s safety that were only relevant in the first half of the season.

- Make redemption house even more sinister and/or show characters like Kelly, Henry, or Greg noticing everyone around them becoming obsessed with Spooky Spaghetti. It would’ve been so easy to permanently write out Henry by making him one of Wes’/BR’s followers but of course they didn’t do that.

- Show at least a little bit of conflict between Mrs Langsberry and Tabby’s mom - opposing mothers defending the reputation of their children. Although I will say, this might have made it too obvious.

- Maybe even including more conflict by not waiting until the last episode to finally accuse each others partners.

Just some thoughts :P

I agree! I think the biggest issue with this season was the reduced runtime (I don't know if that was at all due to the writer's strike, but I hope they get an absolute minimum of 10 episodes if they do a third season), and the mismanagement of the time that they did have.

To address some of your points specifically- I also felt Mouse was super sidelined this season (yes, she is technically the person most intent on solving the mystery, but she's basically just around to info-dump at everyone else, not have any personal growth), and Ash was barely present. I was particularly disappointed by this, because I knew the actor's billing had been upgraded, so I thought we'd get noticeably more Ash.

Greg's redemption arc, if you can really call it that, since it seemed to skip the crucial "oh, he's questioning his ways and changing" part felt super rushed (as did Kelly's turn from 2x06-2x08). I think they did film more of it (since we know of some cut stuff), but since it didn't make it to the screen, it felt very strange that Faran suddenly liked Greg (I'm not saying they played it like she's in love with him or anything, but I feel like they skipped the middle bit between "he annoys the hell out of her and she really dislikes him" to "he's apologized and now they're hooking up,"). It was just too fast.

I definitely expected Imogen's mental health to ultimately play a bigger role than it did, considering how much time they spent on it.

It is hard to believe Mrs. Beasley, Pastor Malachi, Kelly, Greg, (and presumably Henry, since they never reveal him as an antagonist) didn't notice that there was an entire additional cult in their cult.

The scene where all the girls started bickering about their SOs was one of my favorites from the finale. It felt so realistic that they wouldn't all just be on board with these new people they don't know at all (and most of them didn't interact with the new love interests that weren't their own almost at all) and assume they're all great. It was refreshing to see the girls disagree and take a few jabs at each other, because while I love them supporting each other, those moments of coming together feel like they mean less when they're all just always on the same page.

As a writer and creator myself, I understand that it is much easier to criticize than it is to create, but one of the big advantages of collaboration is that theoretically you have a lot of people looking at your work with a critical and constructive eye and shaping the story into the best version of itself. This season felt like it really could have used some editing and refining (in the writing process, before you even get to the film editing) to streamline the storylines and not get too bogged down in areas that don't pay off.

To leave things on a high note- I really did have fun watching the show this season & trying to puzzle things out. I just feel there were some pretty glaring flaws, as well.

[sister-pianist-chan]

Jere best bisexual 🍦

Yes yes!!!

As a bisexual myself, I must say... He does give bisexual vibes. Yes, yes! ^^ I do write him as such in my fanfics too! 😉 One can dream... 😍

And then the ice cream video made me have that moment where I thought so too! xD 🍦🍦🍦

I kind of had more to say about this at the bottom before some people yell at me, so I'll make it optional and put it under the cut. (I want to acknowledge that this fandom is my home and I love you guys so much that I can be myself -my very delusional self- around you guys and don't need to hide. I mentioned the yelling because I've had people yell at me for my fanfics, but that's ok!) This post means a lot to me! 🥹

Now, before someone decides to burn me at the stake, I'm not gonna say he is because that's for Jere to tell us if he ever wants to share that with us (In my delusional world he is a bisexual king. He said he's straight -but I used to say so too and I used to have secret relationships, and sometimes I still lie about being straight because I grew up in a religious family and work at a religious school. You can probably see why Brother!Jere is my comfort character even though I'm not Catholic myself. I almost wrote a hilarious au fic about Jere being a funny Baptist preacher in a secret relationship with Bojan after that cursed Youth Pastor look Jere pic came out.- That aside, I'm not saying that's the case with Jere. Sorry for my tangent.)

I know in Linnanjuhlat he did make me ask some questions 🧐 especially when they asked him if he had a gf (I was kind of mad at them for that! None of their business!) he said something along the lines of (and I'm paraphrasing, I may be misquoting so please don't take it as gospel) I don't know if a girlfriend or a boyfriend (Bro, nobody asked you about a boyfriend!!!!) is there or something like that. I screamed when I heard the word "poikaystävä" and even though that might not mean anything, I was like "boyfriend?!" 🧐🧐🧐💀💀💀💀 I've read some comments on Tumblr and on Twitter and such where people are like "did he just low-key come out as bisexual?" I asked myself that too. 😁

If he is, he'd be my ultimate hero and I'll love him even more for that! 🥹 In my delusional world, he is, and Bojan is his main bf, so is Nace, and then he's got his harem.

Sorry this post got lengthy! But thank you for your ask! 💚🍦

Have a K eating a Popsicle 😄

[appalachiasferaldaughter]

7

Despite the dogma surrounding my life, I still found myself drawn outside with her: The mountains and her woods—the moon, her bride, And the critters, spirit and flesh, that were.

The fear of witchcraft plagued the clan and folk: Everything outside the church walls—dark. “Satan roams outside, Church!” The preacher spoke, Hushed amens and head nods the pews remarked.

I thought something was wrong with my sight. Where? My eyes could not see the doom out yonder. Summer, I saw life flourishing out there, Winter, snow covered the nude, deer wandered.

I sat under a tree to hide from heat, A mighty oak that provided much shade. I touched a branch, “Thanks for relief so sweet.” My Aunt heard me, and rebuked me, afraid.

I cried. What did I do wrong? She explained: “You were just being kind, I know. But God made the tree. So thank him. Don’t entertain Satan, for he hides, puts on a façade,

and it’s a slippery slope to darkness.”

“Why can’t we see him?” I asked my Aunt Fern. “Because,” she paused, “he likes to trick people, and make them think that, for sin, they should yearn. Dark turns to light and good into evil.

And if you don’t know Jesus,” a deep sigh, “You won’t know the difference ‘fore too late.” The elk flashed before me, I almost died, Satan almost had me—was that my fate?

My Aunt Fern smiled, “But you know Jesus! Yes! You have nothing to worry about, dear, Just remember God and your praise express, For the Word says perfect love casts out fear.”

But when I praise, why do I still have fear?

Questions that ran but did not go too far, Since we were not supposed to dwell on them, Pastor said to think of good things that are, ‘Cause Christ will come and to Satan condemn. “One day we will live in Heaven—such joy!” I watched the deer herd at the wood’s entrance. “And this wretched place burns—we will avoid!” Do animals get to have repentance? I felt the elk’s gaze, then turned to the cross.

[oneatlatime]

The Winter Solstice Part 1: The Spirit World

I'll be watching this two part episode as two separate episodes.

Starting strong with some stunning pastoral views.

I like how Appa's shadow undulates over the clouds.

Is Aang passively airbending at all times when they're on Appa? Otherwise how do they hear each other? Unless it's a windless day and they're flying at walking pace there's no way they would be able to have a conversation.

Can you imagine the freedom of being able to throw yourself into the air with no consequences? Imagine how being able to ignore gravity since (presumably) a very young age would shape your worldview. Aang must look at the world in a fundamentally different way.

Blow dried Momo.

Could Katara stop babying Aang for five minutes?

The perspective is so funky in this shot that Appa looks Momo sized.

Did Gyatso say that Roku specifically would help Aang? He said that someone in that special room would guide him, but the only living creature in there was Momo.

Emotional support Momo. Maybe the help Gyatso spoke of actually was Momo.

Every time Iroh appears I become increasingly convinced that the creators of this show are fans of The Big Lebowski.

I love Iroh weaponizing teenage awkwardness to get himself five more minutes in the tub. I think I can also now declare myself officially used to Zuko's voice. I no longer find it muppety.

This is the environmentalism after school special.

The way this guy talks about flying Bison and airbender tattoos, is he actually old enough to have known airbenders?

Katara blindly trusts this guy because... he's old?

Pretty.

"It is the greatest honour of a lifetime to be in your presence." "Nice to meet you too." Yep, those greetings are definitely in proportion to each other.

I love the lighting in this scene. Everything has this golden glow.

The winter solstice sounds a bit like Halloween. The walls between worlds thin to almost nothing and things can cross over which shouldn't.

Aang's eyes are brown in this episode.

I love this attitude. Optimistic, upbeat. "I have to try, don't I?" is so true.

Is it just me, or is Sokka's ponytail weird this episode?

I think this is the Bumi guard voice guy again.

This episode appears to be taking place in a part of the Earth Kingdom that hasn't been taken over by the Fire Nation (unlike last episode). So for Zuko & crew, this is enemy territory. Iroh, who is a general with a fancy title, the brother of the leader of the fire nation (so I guess the next in line to the throne?), and so recognisable to the enemy that they can identify him without a single piece of insignia or even clothing denoting his country of origin, thought it would be a good idea idea to have a solo, unguarded spa day here? I bet the fire nation is happy the other brother is the one in charge.

More pretty.

Sokka racking up some major Big Brother points this episode. Aang may be the Avatar, which makes this kind of stuff his responsibility, but he's also 12 and clueless. He shouldn't have to face this alone.

This village must be close to the Avatar world's equator because that sun set ridiculously quickly.

You know, if I turned around and saw that thing following me, my first impulse would be to scream and run away, not introduce myself. This is why I'm not the Avatar.

If that's their water tower gone, this village is done for with or without the Avatar's help.

This spirit is throwing a proper tantrum. I love the way it moves too fast to see. I did not see Sokka getting kidnapped coming. I actually had to rewind and watch it again because it happened so fast that I did not see it at all the first time through.

I think the fire nation solider here is the Bumi guard voice too.

This is an insane shoulder to waist ratio. Also nice to see Zuko figure it out so quickly. This show has given me the impression so far that he's kind of stupid, but I guess not.

It's a panda! Black and White spirit, plus the environmentalism stuff from earlier, I really should have put that together sooner.

"I Failed." yeah you kind of did. So pick yourself up and try again.

Bird horses? Also those earth soldier helmets are probably really effective, but they look so stupid.

Proof that Katara is used to relying on Sokka to do all of her thinking and planning like I said last episode. If Sokka was the one left behind and Katara the one missing, he would not be so passive.

"All I have to do is figure out what I have to do. But once I do that, no problem." Even the most impossible tasks can be broken down into manageable steps. I love Aang's attitude.

It's so painfully in character that what gets Katara out of her funk is looking after someone else.

Where's Momo in all this?

In the spirit world, the avatar is just some guy? Can't bend. So what makes him uniquely qualified to be the guy who deals with spirits?

Dragons can talk with their whiskers. I'm sure I've seen that somewhere before.

Iroh can see stuff in the spirit world? Maybe it's an old people thing?

How stupid are these earthbender guards? Nice call back to the water heating trick. This show is really good at set up and payoff like that.

This dragon is very fluent at talking in pictures. Also the sky in the accelerated days and nights animation is actual live action footage of sky, right?

Earthbenders can skate on their bare feet. That's beyond cool. Imagine having an inborn ability to sock slide at will. I'd never walk anywhere again. Only slide.

Comforting Appa really did get her out of her funk and inspire action. Neat.

Aang and Zuko's stories do intersect this episode after all. Also I had no idea the two parties were this close to each other. Zuko showing this episode that in addition to deductive reasoning, he also has long-distance tracking skills.

I want to visit this village just to see the sunsets in person.

Iroh was right, they were clearly outmatched. These guys are just the worst. They're on a dirt floor in a dirt cave with the advantage of numbers and actual pants, and they still lose. Did Iroh even firebend?

I take back what I said earlier about Iroh being stupid for going off alone in enemy territory. If this is the calibre of soldiers he knew he would possibly run into, then he was perfectly safe all along. Although the last minute rescue from Zuko was a nice touch. Did anyone really believe that he would choose chasing the Avatar over his uncle? I didn't.

I like the creepy spirit whispering at the gate.

Did Katara yelling to Aang attract the spirit's attention to that main building? Because it seemed to be ignoring it before.

Chekov's acorn!

When Aang went to the spirit world, his body stayed behind on the statue's head. But when Sokka went his whole self was stuck there? Also that bathroom joke is payback for all the denied potty breaks.

Sokka's practicality and bluntness is just so perfect this episode. A nice counter balance to the spirity stuff. Just spent 24 hours in the Spirit world? That's nice. Can we have supplies?

Momo's back in these final scenes, but where was he the rest of the episode?

How does Aang know the island is in the fire nation? From the temple architecture?

Final Thoughts

I really like this episode! There is so much that is good: -beautiful visuals (so many sunsets!) -interesting sound design (that whispering was neat, and the single wind chime in the last spirit attack was so eerie) -so many well-executed set ups and payoffs (acorn, firebending heating stuff, how the spirit does relate to the burnt forest from the beginning) -So much good dialogue, from Zuko especially ("Now would you please put on some clothes?!?" / *sniffs* "Yeah, that's Uncle Iroh.") -relationship stuff (Sokka being big brother, Katara being lost without him until someone else needs her to be strong, Aang's relationship to his responsibilities both internally within himself and externally with how the village sees him and what it expects of him, the exasperated teenager and secretly amused parent dynamic between Zuko and Iroh switching flawlessly into a fighting team, then flawlessly back) -Everyone feels in character (optimistic sweetheart Aang, practical protective Sokka, caring Katara, super chill yet super skilled Iroh, Zuko just so fed up with everything) -The humour was downplayed this episode but the few jokes that were there were genuinely funny. Sokka getting hit with the acorn in particular. I'm thinking that there must have been a rule in the writing room that it's not a proper Avatar episode unless Sokka gets to be the butt of the joke at least once. -Zuko and Iroh finally getting fleshed out a bit. I feel like this is the first episode where Zuko hasn't come off as an asshole. -Worldbuilding (this is the first time the avatar's done his job as per the job description) -How it's supposed to be the first half of a two part episode but it doesn't feel like set up at all. It's a self-contained story with actual stakes, a conclusion that matters, lessons learned all around, and ALSO set up for next episode.

Once I had gotten a good look at firebending in the Southern Air Temple episode I started wondering how the fire nation hadn't completely decimated all their enemies. After I saw Bumi's bending skills I understood how the earth kingdom had resisted the fire nation for a century, but Bumi really was the exception to the rule, wasn't he? If these earth kingdom soldiers are typical of the earth kingdom army, I'm going to have to switch back to my original opinion and wonder why the fire nation didn't win the war 85 years ago. Because these guys are bad. They are surrounded by their element. Their prisoner is standing on their element. Just make the ground grab his feet! He'll be a sitting duck and they'll be able to do whatever they want to him. Better yet, just bury him completely. Or make handcuffs out of rock instead of metal. That being said, the soldiers' stupidity set up a really cool fight scene. How did Zuko not break his foot with that kick?

Everything is woven together so well in this episode. Almost nothing feels contrived - you can't tell me that Zuko didn't wait behind a bush somewhere so he could time his rescue of Iroh to have maximum drama. But otherwise this episode feels organic - like we were actually watching a couple of days in the life of these people.

I really liked this one.

[yohohonabottle]

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II

The question came, and the 'bride' internally sighs but otherwise makes an attempt to speak and give an answer...only to hesitate with uncertainty for a split second. (Something that doesn't escape the groom's notice but doesn't comment on it or react, merely notes the ever subtle squaring of shoulders and tightening grip on the pretty flowers. Interesting...) The words of the people behind this whole event flash trough Pirin's mind, the firm warning of what the consequences would be if the answer given to the pastor is a 'no'. 

A very shy and somewhat happy 'yes' finally tumbles out of the 'bride', a smile plastering itself onto those thin lips that matches the reply. Both the word itself and the smile have a sense of strained apology carefully hidden beneath the seemingly innocent, nervous veneer of joy. Almost as though being held at gunpoint point-blank that would go off should he dare refuse or make any attempt at asking for help, or if the wedding fails somehow.

Except the gun isn't literal, rather figurative. 

The pressure on the poor soul, however, was very much real. But Pirin couldn't let anyone here know-- "Or else"–He hurriedly shuts down the memory, focusing solely on staying in-character. 

..Although, honestly, the whole situation is rather funny, in a morbid sense: The wedding was organized so quickly, in such grand style and has nothing to do with my or my husband's preferences. Not to mention poor said husband is likely clueless that his 'bride' is actually a groom. 

It has all the flare, but lacks the most sacred part: Heart.

The priest's words after that hardly register in Pirin's mind as he just listens with half-an ear to the religious prattle, silently apologizing to his husband-to-be and family for all of this. Until the moment of truth came where they'd seal their fates and the union would be finalized. The moment I dread most...

Mentally counting up to hundred and keeping his breathing steady, he turns just in time so he's face to face with his future partner. Right as the clergyman pronounces the all familiar– 

—"You may now exchange rings and kiss the bride." 

Timidly, carefully, Pirin lifts the white veil obscuring his soft triangular face as the two of them are to exchange their wedding rings. Still, he keeps his serene veneer in-place, and true thoughts and feelings locked away to himself.  

This arranged union is..such a sick joke, to both of us. 

The feeling of a thousand eyes drilling into him is sickening, but manages to stay relatively calm-appearing. Just a smidge shy and bashful. He could hear some of the audience murmur all too accutely: 

'Ah, a shy one.' or 'So she's the timid type, eh? And what a pretty face! Such a doll! Wish I could steal 'er myself!', and 'Just how did such a beauty end up with a slacker like the lad anyways? He's no fine gentleman...Just like your typical womanizer. Would he even keep his vow?', 

'Bet he'd leave the poor lass for another as soon this is done.' 

'What a cheater, poor girl.'

It makes his stomach churn but no outward reaction occurs from him as he clings onto his 'role' in this mess. While internally feeling trapped and like suffocating little by little, wishing to just get away from everything--The flashy wedding, the tedious ceremony, the whispers and stares of the people, the stranger he's to marry. It's.. a little too much. But outwardly, Pirin merely keeps his composed, if slightly, demure veneer of nervous happiness, his best brave face.

For Rosa's sake. You're doing this for Rosaline and her family. Don't falter. 

The dress is pretty, not too tight nor too loose and has an air of icy regalness without being gaudy--Yet it feels wrong to him, humiliating. (Oh stars...so many stares–So many eyes, please look away–)

Don't. Falter. 

Stay calm. 

It makes him itch to just claw at it, get it off and hurl it away to gods know where. The way his hair is braided and spun into a bun that looks like a rose is elegant, but it makes him feel far too exposed. And the red underliner accentuating his eyes? Not atrocious, but he'd rather not have to wear it any longer than needed. 

—Thank the stars they didn't make me wear lipstick and jewelry. 

The pale young man's hands tighten their grip on the bouquet, mask threatening to slip, feeling far removed from his element– Caged and cornered, agitated and suffocated but manages to keep his internal turmoil strictly to himself. He carefully continues to maintain the picture-perfect image of a happy bride..or groom.

(–Why do you have to stare like this? Like I'm some exotic–)

Stay. Calm.

Don't crack. 

(Will the Syndicates still go after Rosa..? No, I'm doing my part of the deal. ...But what if they decide to pull the rug from under me– Change the conditions? Am I marrying this man in vain? No, no, no–) 

Don't. Crack. 

It'll be over soon, any moment now. Any moment. 

Taking the man's warm hand, the frail-looking bride hastily slips the simple gold band onto his finger and keeps on smiling jovially despite the imperceptible quiver to his gloved own. It'll be alright. It'll be over soon. Just a little bit longer. ('Pirin?') And takes a deep breath, swallowing thickly, mind chanting as if half in a prayer and half in a soothing mantra with switching to stern reminders to himself. 

Don't you dare crack. Don't you dare.

And here comes the next awful, most awkward part that's only trumped by the consummation of their marital bond afterward. It's possibly the worst thing about this entire disaster and most demeaning, disrespectful, humiliating. The kiss? Sure, it's stupid and I'd really rather not have to, but I can survive it. It's bearable, silly, easy to swallow down and brush off.. 

But..But to–To bear a human, one I don't know at all no less, children– The thought nearly makes Pirin physically gag, stomach lurching and twisting into knots. Once again, the bandits' words flash across his mind's eye making him internally shudder with a sinking heart. 

"If we don't get at least one nephilym–We'll find your precious little friend and burn her alive. Ya hear, blood-sucker? We'll burn her and her whole family alive, them and their house. Wanna know who'll be to blame? Bingo! You." 

"Oh and, if we find out you ratted us out in any way to anyone...Well then. Deal's off automatically. So you better keep your pretty mouth shut about this, yeah? No narcking, no calling for help and not a peep about our little deal, got it?"

 Swallowing, he tries to meet his fiancé's eyes for the part...But finds his throat tightening and a heavy lump forming, almost chocking. The glass is on the edge of overflowing. There's only so much more he can hold.. He can't. Can't lift his eyes from the flowers clutched in his gloved hands, can't bring himself to move. Paralyzed.

(Please...Let them stay alive and well. That's all I ask for.)

(Please. I'm begging you. That's all I ask you for, nothing more.)

Calm down. Stay calm.

A tear threatens to well at the corner of his eye and roll down his face. Pirin blinks it back. Anguish, fear, frustration, old deep sorrows, exhaustion, desperation and hopelessness well within his aching heart and rise into deafening crescendo.

Ioan of the Eclipse lost bloodline, last of his kind to survive the carnage of humanity's blind hatred, holds it all back. No one can see or know.

Play your part. 

You can't afford to make mistakes or fail. 

Gently taking the slimmer, shorter, man's other gloved hand in his own with brows slightly creased together, Valen takes the ring from the held up cushion and slides it onto the other's delicate ring finger. He's cold, inhumanly so..

Can't be. ..Right? Those died a century ago. 

Yet no other explanation makes sense. No human has eyes this clear or skin this frigidly cold and white as Death. The pupils are round, yes, but that's because of an illusion spell (most likely) and the fangs are slid up in his gums to look like normal canines.

So here this gorgeous phantom stands, in the flesh and right in front of his very eyes– A living relic and treasure-trove of secrets, knowledge and wisdom. One with an innocent face. 

You're becoming more intriguing by the second, my dear 'Pirin'. Wonder what kind of mysteries you keep...

Poor guy feels so stiff and tense, like on the verge of snapping, short-circuiting or breaking apart any second. Still, alas the 'show' has to go on. The solder's hand glides to lightly rest on the vampire's ghostly skin, thumb tracing over the high cheekbone as he lifts the doll-like visage to meet his. 

..And his heart clenches at the pleading look of fear in those mesmerizing light, haunting pearl-like irises as they meet his own lilac-purple ones. Begging him both for help, do something–anything at all– and to stay away, to not meddle in any way at all simultaneously. Conflicted, and so very scared.

The look of someone who feels like he has zero control and severely threatened at the same time, doing his best to keep it together...but is fast approaching the brink of cracking. A look the high-ranking Heroic Order knight is all too familiar with, having seen it etched upon the faces of others many times. 

Fellow colleagues both junior and senior, hostages and their families in cases of ransom, victims and those whom had lost enough and fear loosing more. 

Somehow, this ethereal and deceptively fragile-appearing being standing before him feels like he's all of the latter. But can't tell anything, else he or a hostage, or both, would get hurt badly by the mastermind. I'll have to dig into this, I'm afraid. Tilting the pretty face a little and leaning in, his warm breath ghosts over the smooth skin, countertenor voice low in subtle murmur meant only for the 'bride' as a small charming smile plays on his lips still.

Except where it was once one of detached faint coyness or jest, it's now one of understanding sympathy and quiet reassurance. It'll be okay. 

—"You alright?" The bashful smile almost wavers at the edges and the hands gripping onto the bouquet of sunflowers, white roses, lily-of-the-valleys and stems of wheat wrapped in pale gold ribbon force themselves to loosen their iron grasp. The narrow, boney shoulders tensed ever so subtly–stiffly and quickly relax, the cracked mask hurriedly 'patched up'. All the little cues he needs to know the answer and the truth concealed underneath– 'Yes' (No.) 

It doesn't take a genius to put two and two together & guess what's going through that pretty head. It's all practically written all over his soft angular face. 

Now my hands, too, are tied, aren't they? Good thing I didn't say no earlier or the hostages would've been at bigger risk. Assuming there are any, which seems to be the case... 

Closing the gap, both their eyes close, 'It's okay.' the nimble elite knight promises in soft whisper before pressing his lips to his bride's in a tender chaste kiss. It barely means anything, holds no real weight–Merely a formality, yet Valen still tries to make it sweet and warm to pass off as loving or one of simmering passion for the audience watching.  

And a little bit for Pirin, too, to an extent. 

Being thrown into a loveless marriage with a complete stranger while having a friend's safety at risk and the turmoil from dealing with it all is enough stress. No need to add the feeling of being unwanted and unwelcome to the mix. 

I feel bad for him–It's not like we can simply annulate the union or ask for divorce. It would likely put the captives in jeopardy. We're stuck together now. 

The cheers and whistles, and applauding doesn't so much as register in his mind. It's not important. The ceremony is over finally.

Pulling back and straightening up to his full height, he tucks a stray strand of snowy and silky hair behind Pirin's ear. The dazzling captain of the Solitaires finds himself unable to look away–Not even when the priest proclaims 'I now pronounce you husband and wife.' So lost in those eerie pale eyes and how the late afternoon sun's light is reflected in them like in a crystal mirror. 

Pearl-white and with a ring of black and grey specks around the pupils, a hint of brown amidst them. A tiny bit dull and like murky waters, yet breath-takingly captivating regardless. It's hard not to marvel and get lost, drown in those depths. He's probably had enough staring for today. Doesn't seem the type to like attention.. 

Sneaking an arm around the short night nymph's back, Valen calmly hooks his other around the slender knees and hoists him up. Pirin's shoulders square up in tension again and his whole body stiffens, heat rushing to his face in embarrassment, the bright rose red blush a nice color against the white.

A quiet gasp of startled surprise slips from him, and for a very brief second–The illusion falls to reveal thin vertical fox-like pupils that thin to slits. What are you doing?! –That much the violet-eyed lean man notices and couldn't help the little suave, cheeky and bit flirtatious smile that he flashes the other, before turning to call out to the crowd, voice clear and chiming like a bell. Just being his usual casual, easy-going, unserious and flamboyant, boyish self. 

—"Alright folks, thank you for attending–We'll be going now! Feel free to raise a toast in our name at the tavern tonight!" 

And with that, the handsome swordsman takes off, carrying his wife away from Holistone's plaza. Whatever gossips get flung around get promptly ignored with ease, just like their stares following after their retreating backs.

Some of the people tut or shake their heads in disapproval, some merely exchanged knowing looks and others either laughed or shrugged it off. Slowly, the spectators begins to disperse. Each to their own.

[abubblingcandle]

UK Teachers Strike

As I sit here at home on a Wednesday in term time, I still find myself writing a list of all the work I have to do to even break even with my deadlines for this week. And that is choosing to not do anything to help my non-striking colleagues.

I know a lot of people I know on here aren’t from the UK but please support the Teachers Strikes. 

We are not striking just because we are underpaid. We are underpaid, don’t get me wrong. But we are striking because the government has abandoned us and yet at every turn we are the villains of the story. 

So here is my vent (this turned so much longer than I anticipated) but also to try and bust some myths of what us teachers are going through and why we feel the need to get some change:

“Teachers just work from 9-3 and get 6 weeks off at summer” - No teacher, and I will stand by this, who is doing right by their students can work 9-3. To start off with we have staff meetings before and after school, parents evenings, pastoral care meetings and conversations with parents about their children if their children are struggling which can’t be done while teaching. As a 2nd year teacher I get 7 hours a fortnight of in school prep time. During that time I have to plan 50 lessons, each one adapted for that specific group of students (in my experience each lesson takes about 15-20 mins if it is pre-planned, 45-60 mins if it is from scratch). So just that alone if we assume all these lessons have planned planned last year and can just be adapted it would take me 12.5 hours a fortnight to do this. I also have to deal with problems within my form including observing lessons with them in, talking with support staff about how we can best help them and behaviour/attendance monitoring. That takes up an hour a week on a good week. Then we have marking and data entry. For KS4 classes it can take me 40 mins to mark each paper, for KS3 classes less time but there are more of them. Assuming this is a test fortnight, I have two ish classes in each year for each subject so we’ll say 60 kids x 20 mins per test = 20 hours. So the basics 34.5 hours a fortnight of work that isn’t teaching ... and 7 hours allocated. Then if we assume I get home at 4, go to sleep at 10 to get a full nights sleep that is then 6 hours on an evening, 30 hours from weekdays. To do all the work I need I need to work all hours in a school day and most hours on an evening. But then at least I have weekends free! Then we have the pastoral care. Teachers are people children trust. If you are a good teacher then children will trust you with their problems. So on a lunch time and break time (my time to decompress) I find myself instead being a counsellor helping pupils deal with anger, sadness, discovering who they are, learning how to be teens and the problems that come with that. So most days I don’t get a lunch break and instead have to use my planning time to eat if I have a planning lesson.

“The average wage of a teacher is £48k” - The average wage of all teachers might be £48k but that includes the heads of trusts who get paid over £100k. As a second year teacher I get paid £28,900. With taxes and student loans etc. taken off from it I get a take home pay of just over £1.8k. The average monthly take home pay in the UK is £2.5k. I genuinely almost might not be able to pay my bills this month because of striking one day. 

“Teaching isn’t that hard, parent’s did it fine during lockdown” - Parent maybe taught one child using work that was set by their teachers. That is not comparable. Someone today who is also striking said something that stuck with me “imagine being a hairdresser and every day having to argue with the client that they need to take their hat off to have a haircut”. Parents hate teachers, children hate teachers, but good teachers want what is best for your children. Things children have actually said to me this week:

- “They should get some other teachers in here because you’re shit”

- “This school is shit and so are you”

- “You’re so strict, don’t you have anything better to be doing with your life”

- “Are you actually going to be teaching us something interesting today?”

- “I don’t need to know this so why should I bother listening to you?”

- “You can’t made me do anything, deal with it”

- “Being here is torture, you’re torturing me you know”

All of those ... were for doing my job. Most of those were for either making them open their books to write or the audacity of asking them not to talk over me. 

“Teachers get to strike and have the day off but if I take my kid out of school for a holiday then they are fined for losing vital education time. How is that fair?” - It’s not but it’s not teachers who are punishing that rule. It’s not teachers who benefit. Your child will lose out on valuable teaching time. They will lose out today. But if a strike doesn’t disrupt then what is the point of a strike. Don’t be mad at us. Be mad at the government that is making us do this.

[thecryingprophet]

Chapter 2

That evening for dinner they had a microwave meal, for Kevin who was used to his mom cooking it was rough.

As they ate togheter in silence Kevin couldn't help but notice how much beer the pastor was drinking, he had at least four cans.

He chose to say nothing about it, he didn't wanna risk making him angry.

As soon as they were done Kevin asked if he could go on a walk "sure, just don't go too far...okay?" The priest recommended.

The boy nodded and walked towards the door, before exiting he gave one last look to the man, who was tidying up the table.

In the evening the town was even emptier, he walked a bit until he decided to go behind the church, it seemed like enough of a secluded place.

He leaned his back against the wall, in front of him the dark woods, he was kind of spooked out by them.

He took a lighter and a cigarette out of his pocket, lighted it and as he smoked, he lost himself in his thoughts.

He wondered why his father was always so strict and seemed unable to forgive him, no matter how much he tried to make amends.

He also wondered why no one seemed to like him, he had no friends and even his parents preferred to be far from him it seemed.

Tears were starting to form in his eyes when he felt a hand touching his shoulder.

He almost screamed in fear, but then realized it was pastor jonah.

"Is that a cigarette son?" He asked, strangely enough there wasn't anger in his voice.

The boy nodded and closed his eyes waiting for a slap, but it never came.

When he reopened them he saw the priests worried face, "I'm not the best person to tell you this, since I'm a smoker myself, but try to quit...it's not good for your health..."

Kevin was surprised he didn't receive the harsh punishment he was used to and asked:" Father, why did you come here? did you know i was smoking?"

The man chuckled "Nah...i was just worried for you, since it's very dark outside now...also just call me Jonah, please"

He responded walking away.

The young man followed him, still surprised.

He looked at the man with attention, he noticed that he was walking even worse than usual, he stumbled and struggled to walk straight.

When they got home he gave a quick at the trashcan, as he suspected, there were even more cans of beer.

He wanted to say something but he felt it was inappropriate.

He eventually went into his room and closed the door behind himself.

He laid on the bed and lost himself in his thoughts once again.

He missed home, he missed his siblings, his mom, his dog but not his father.

He hated that man, always ready to become violent with tongue and body.

He eventually started crying, silently, like he had trained himself to do over the years.

Tears flowed from his eyes and wet the pillow.

From the next room over he could hear Jonah snore, he was sleeping soundly.

The sound was infuriating, but he couldn't do anything about it.

He eventually fell asleep, fully clothed and with his shoes on.

[thesleepiestselkie]

i truly believe the trans community has got to start openly and loudly supporting detrans folks. i wanna share my story with y'all, and it is long and possibly triggering? and i say at least one nsfw thing. but i feel like a lot of trans people only ever see detrans stories weaponized against them, and therefore there's a good chunk of the trans community that has (understandably) a lot of vitriol towards detrans people. so since it's pride month, i wanted to talk a minute about being a nonbinary detrans person.

when i first started learning about trans and nonbinary identities, i knew pretty much immediately that i was nonbinary. i was in high school by the time i found out that you could be a different gender than the one on your birth certificate, and i was over the fucking moon. problem was, i was a homeschooled navy brat pastor's kid 3 for 1 combo and so my literal Only exposure to any world outside of patriarchal gender & sexuality norms was.... you guessed it! tumblr.

tumblr around 2013-2015 was a pretty weird and vitriolic place to be nonbinary. half the site claimed you were faking, the other half was trying to lure you in by spouting the weirdest genders on god's green earth. (i love y'all go wild with ur genders that's just not my brand of existence.) so like.... i picked a side? i decided when i was around 15 that being nonbinary was kinda cringe and from that point on i identified as a trans guy.

cue fighting with my parents for like 7 years about the whole existence of trans people, the idea that i was a trans people, this weird belief i had that i should have bodily autonomy, and this weird belief that they had that pretty much anything could be cured if you prayed hard enough (from anxiety to cancer to, surprise, transgenderism)

the only way i came out of that fight as myself was through transitioning. i very loudly expressed that i Would do what i wanted with my body, and they had no right to control me. when i started t shots, i was 19, and i loved it.

i was euphoric every time i got gendered correctly by a stranger, i celebrated the first time i shaved real beard hairs from my face, it was beautiful. genuinely. i was part of a community of other trans guys ("guys" here ranging from "100,000% binary ftm transsexual" to "transmasc nb who's just happy to be here") and we loved each other hard.

i think i started consciously having to push away real doubts about continuing to transition when i was pursuing top surgery. i really, truly, wasn't sure. but by that point, it felt almost expected of me from the one side, and absolutely forbidden on the other. and like, i don't know that i would have gone through with it if it was just our weird homoerotic groupthink, i was sick of my tits bc like. they're tits. they suck to live with regardless of how hot they are. i was sick and tired of choosing between binding (over ribs that had already been fractured at least once due to improper binding) or being misgendered. and i was exhausted of my parents telling me, at age 21, that i didn't have the right to do what i wanted with my body.

so i got top surgery. and, like, i was happy. but i think i knew i fucked up as soon as i woke up from the surgery. the surgeon didn't leave me with any areolas whatsoever, which i didn't think going in was even a possibility. and maybe this is trivial, but that sparked something in me that i was terrified to admit, and couldn't, until much later on: i felt dysphoria about not having my tits.

but like, i was committed to the bit, you know? i'd gotten used to being a guy, and it fit well enough, like a second-hand sweater. so i just kinda rode the wave as far as it would take me. i did my shots (with absolutely no regularity because through all 3 years i was on testosterone stabbing myself in the leg really never got less hard and scary) and if i was being real i would admit to myself that i was probably more transmasc than a trans *man*.

and then my brother died! of aforesaid cancer that my parents tried real hard to pray away. (to be clear, they also got him the best medical treatment they possibly could, they aren't full on religious nutjobs.) and, quite frankly, i hadn't realized before then how integral to my identity my brother was. (again, homeschooled military kid with exactly one similarly-aged person who was actually around for more than a couple years of my life.) it kinda broke the shell identity that i'd been hiding behind. i realized i had a responsibility to myself to be myself, and i just wasn't a fuckin trans guy.

so i stopped taking t, and i started opening myself up to dressing how i used to love dressing, before i got all truscummy. and i felt myself come back into my body a bit, for the first time in god only knows how long.

fast forward 3 (ish) long, godawful, miserable years of therapy and grief and more grief, and i'm a pretty well-adjusted nonbinary person. i have a wife and a 9-5 job and my creative drive has been returning in spades. but i'm still dysphoric about my tits. i miss them. i can't say whether i made a mistake in getting top surgery, because my mental health was so completely shot back then that it really might have saved my life in some way or other, but it feels like one now. they were pretty, and soft, and sensitive. i got my nipples pierced last year and literally could not feel it happening. i only have feeling in some parts of my chest. i look fine, and i've accepted that this is the body i chose to live in. but sometimes i wish i wasn't so afraid to talk about this feeling.

some of y'all talk a big game about supporting detrans folk, but i don't see it. in mainstream lgbtq+ culture, is it absolutely taboo to talk about detransitioning, and y'all know it is. and there is literally no one else speaking up for us. a lot of detrans people become anti-trans specifically due to the reception their detransition was given by the community. it is so transparently hostile towards us because we got it wrong. and if people can make mistakes, that might mean (*gasp*) you might make a mistake?? and then it's a Real risk and not a fake one that conservatives made up to scare the parents of trans kids. and we just can't have that.

shouldn't we be telling kids that in your life, you're going to do things you risk regretting, and it's okay, because everyone has regrets? it's not some trans-specific thing. i regret my college boyfriend and not taking better care of my first car. i also regret having top surgery. it's not a dirty word—i'm just some guy, and everyone fucks up, sometimes in life-ruining ways. mine wasn't life-ruining, just kinda hard to process. but man, it sure woulda been easier if literally the only welcoming community for detrans people wasn't coincidentally Extremely anti-trans 🙃

and like........ i'm also.... Still Trans? i detransitioned to the gender i was before i identified as ftm: nonbinary. i stopped my medical transition, i reverted back to they/them pronouns. i detransitioned, but the idea that only cis people detransition is overwhelmingly binarist if you think about it for more than 2 seconds. (idk if that's a word but i'm making it one. you literally know what i mean). i can participate in trans dialogue, but there are areas of my history that i just have to avoid because i'll start getting dirty looks.

so yeah. all that to say. please start including us. loudly. please make a safe space for people who made mistakes, because the only one that exists right now is built to radicalize us against the people for whom those choices weren't mistakes.

[veggietales-and-trauma]

Growing up as a missionary kid with ARFID

I recently found out I may have ARFID. no official diagnosis yet, but learning about this disorder has resonated so strongly with me. It also has made me so angry and sad about the shit I had to go through because of my parents' decision to become missionaries.

If you don't know what ARFID is, it's basically an eating disorder that messes with the way your brain perceives food and causes you to avoid certain foods because of sensory issues like texture, or anxiety about possible reactions to food. in my case, I am very sensitive to textures, tastes, and smells, and cannot eat certain foods without gagging, nausea, and/or being unable to physically swallow. It is uncomfortable at best, painful at worst. As a kid, I had a much smaller list of safe, edible foods than I have now, but I have always had this experience with new or unsafe foods and still do at 28 years old.

Now, if you don't know what being a missionary kid is like, well, I don't blame you. I wish I didn't either. But here we are.

When I was a toddler, my parents decided God was calling them to go to a foreign country to win souls for the kingdom or whatever. This required us to travel around the states for years going to different churches and families to ask for money to support this lifestyle. Once we had enough money, we then moved to overseas to tell people about Jesus. Woohoo.

My ARFID pals can probably imagine what a horror this sounds like. Almost every week, I had to travel to a new church and go to a new restaurant or eat at a stranger's house. Sometimes we had lunch with the pastor, sometimes we stayed at a stranger's house for several nights and ate with them.

I had plenty of issues at home surrounding food. I was constantly getting in trouble for not finishing my potatoes, being sentenced to sit at the dinner table for hours until I ate 4 more bites of broccoli, or being threatened with no dessert or other punishments. None of this ever worked, and I would just sit there filled with shame but unable to eat.

Eating with strangers was another story. Most of my memories of this time are of my mother harshly whispering threats into my ear if I didn't eat, apologizing for me being a "picky eater" and complaining about me right in front of my face, or whisking me off to the bathroom to spank me. None of it helped me. I would cry, I would sulk, I would beg. But no matter the punishment, I could not make myself eat a bite of lasagna or try a bit of sauerkraut. On a couple of occassions, I even threw up at the table.

Unsurprisingly, things did not get better when we moved overseas. We moved to a country with a cuisine almost entirely comprised of food that I still can't stomach to this day. Seafood, lumpy potatoes, complicated stews, dry sandwiches, meats with large ribbons of fat running through them.

I don't mean to be culturally insensitive; there is nothing at all strange or bad about what they ate. My brain just couldn't handle it. Every time I had to go to a church lunch, I would basically starve and get sick from not eating. Church camp was the worst, with multiple days of suffering through meals that I could barely eat tiny bites of, getting constant headaches and feeling weak and unable to enjoy being with the other kids. I loved sleeping out in a tent, singing songs, playing games with them. But I hated the food experience so much, I would contemplate jumping out of my window so I could break my legs and not have to go.

I did get to eat at home more. But did you know that manufacturing processes are different in other countries? Did you know vegetables can have different shapes, sizes, and textures? I did. Nobody else could tell, but every single food was new and different and strange and unsafe to me, except for the peanut butter we brought over with us. Slowly, I would find foods I could handle and get accustomed to my new safe foods and eating routines. Then, we would have to go back the states to visit family and supporting churches.

Suddenly, everything was new again. I hated M&Ms because they were too small. Cheese and milk tasted weird. Hot dogs had too thick of a skin. Cucumber slices were too big and watery. Now the process had to start over again, forcing myself to find new safe foods, until it was time to return overseas and switch back to the old ones.

So it went, like a yoyo, being yanked around the world, trying desperately to find safety and consistency. I was tiny, couldn't gain any weight until years after adulthood. I was full of constant guilt, and I always felt othered. Singled out for being too stupid and stubborn to just eat a fish sandwich with the rest of the kids. It compounded with my awkwardness and social anxiety and I ended up with no friends, just the weird kid who didn't talk and never ate lunch.

I know my parents were totally unprepared for this and they did what they thought was best. ARFID wasn't added to the DSM-V until after I had graduated high school. None of the strategies to deal with picky eaters worked on me. How could they know what to do?

I do wish they wouldn't have made me feel like such a useless sack of shit every time, though.

But I get it. I made them look bad in front of their donors.

Missionary kids are told they must be adventerous, brave, charismatic, intelligent, flexible, generous. We were supposed to evangelize too, after all. More importantly, we were supposed to be model kids that people would want to give money to.

Instead, my parents got a small, weird, unsocial, anxious kid who couldn't eat food, couldn't talk to people, couldn't take a car ride without throwing up, much less a plane ride.

It wasn't my fault. It was just too much for me.

Doesn't stop me from feeling like a failure.

[ruminate88]

Forgiving Your Enemies:

You MUST forgive people because it’s freeing to your life and it’s healthy to your heart and mind. It gives your mind space to focus on better things. You won’t always get the opportunity to forgive people to their faces and some times it’s safer to stay away from folks whom you’re aware they can only harm you. You can still forgive them in your heart!

I heard a youth pastor say one time how his father abandoned him as a child and he grew up holding hard feelings towards his dad but it always affected his life negatively. This pastor learned he had to forgive his father even though he never got to see him face to face. Once he forgave his father, he felt released from the hurt and disappointment. He felt as if he could start his life over with a clean start.

Forgiving someone in your heart, is choosing to accept the situation and then let it go. Stop carrying it with you everywhere and instead of harboring negative feelings towards that person, choose to just say “what happened is in the past and it’s over, can’t change it.” Let that person make mistakes and remind yourself you also make mistakes. If that person never changes and can only hurt you, don’t let them back in but pray for them to do better. Hope for their well-being. Seeking revenge only puts you down at their level. Be the bigger person and just live your best life with hope and peace. Don’t create drama against that person or continue to dwell on everything wrong that happened between you two.

I can only write this blog NOW because I myself am just now in a place where I understand forgiveness a little better and I’m learning to forgive people that hurt me. My ex Andrew was a narcissist and he used me, lied to me, cheated on me and broke me down in ways I was isolating myself and becoming a very cold person. Andrew almost stole all the love I had.. Took me years to understand him, the situation, I faced a lot of anger and bitterness but NOW I’m finally coming to a healthier mindset towards him. I’m praying for him more and trying to have more compassion for him.

You’re never gonna perfectly love every one on this earth and you’ll still make mistakes. It’s learning from your mistakes that is helpful to your future and your relationships. Forgiving someone is setting yourself free and allowing them room to grow too. If you constantly beat them up and hold the past over their heads, that’s as bad as whatever they did to you. I know it took me years to get here. Just a month or so ago I was struggling to get over how angry and frustrating my ex made me. He’s human though and I should feel sorry for him, be the bigger person and hope better for his life. I should want him to be healthy and happy!!! ❤️‍🩹 (even if he never would want the same for me, Jesus help us all please!)