#religious trauma eats me up 7 days a week

[foxgl-ove]

sinking my teeth into the drow race and the ranger class and shaking it like a dog rn

[nocturnesanomaly]

Chapter 7: Keep watching the skies

(Series Masterlist: Divine Violence) (Read on Ao3) (Inspired Playlist)

Series: The Divine Violence - chapter 7: Keep watching the skies

Wordcount: 6.4k

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x John "Soap" MacTavish x Gn!Reader

TW: (View masterlist for series tw and tags) - DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, Religious Trauma, PTSD, Flashbacks, Hallucinations, Anxiety, Paranoia, Disturbing themes, Grooming, Implied sexual assault/rape, non-consensual drug use,

Description: You follow up on your own lead, convinced it's the only way, leading the rest of the 141 on a hunt to find you.

A/N: Not sure I got all the typos, let me know if you find any <3

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If Price was ever going to grant any of their wishes, Johnny prayed to the lord that it would be to get better beds. Even if he and the taskforce had slept in worse places than this, on the ground in half fallen buildings, in bundles of hay or random items, it didn't keep Johnny from being grumpy about the lack of space and stiff mattresses.

He wasn't sure why Laswell hadn't accounted for the one missing bed. Sometimes he thought that she expected one of them to take the janky couch, but she couldn't really, could she? It was what Simon did most nights, or at least Johnny was pretty sure he did. He typically didn't come into the room during nights, letting Johnny snore away on the little space there already was. Then again, that man never truly slept much on missions.

Simon got the optimal amount of sleep he needed to function for a day, and not a second longer. It was a habit that was hard to coax him out of when he and Johnny went back home. When they had first bought an apartment together, it even took a few weeks before Johnny managed to get Simon into a somewhat normal sleep rhythm.

One thing he found that worked, was letting Simon listen to his heartbeat. It seemed to calm the man for whatever reason. Johnny supposed he understood, it was something consistent, a lifeline in the most literal sense. It assured someone that the other was still alive, that their heart was still beating and their lungs still breathing.

They had both spend a lot of long nights like that. Nights after missions with too close calls, nights fuelled with terrors and horrid images on their minds, nights where it was as simple as the fact that one of them couldn't fall asleep.

Johnny didn't know when Simon had moved from the couch to laying on top of him and squeezing half the air out of his lungs, but he was sure woken up by it. The first rays of the morning sun peeked through the blinds of the window, and highlighted the dust particles floating around in the room.

Simon was a steady weight on top of him. His breathing the only thing inconsistent from his otherwise still form. He reached out, smoothing his hands over the muscles of Simon's back, feeling him sigh further into his hold.

He was still awake then.

"Mornin' wee lad," Johnny whispered teasingly into Simon's ear, conveniently placed right next to him from how he was hiding his face in his neck.

Simon grumbled something unintelligible against Johnny's skin. "Shut it MacTavish..." was about the only thing he could make out of it. It was enough to incite a round of his personal infectious laughter.

The sheets were jumbled between both of their legs, creating an odd display of tangled limbs probably resembling some deformed eldritch horror from an outsider’s perspective.

"Didn't think ye would actually join me...thought ye didn't want affection when spider's around," Johnny mumbles cheekily yet still pulls the massive man even closer. He closes his eyes again, enjoying the weight on his chest, the comforting assurance he'd been craving for all too long.

"They're not here..."

Groggily, Johnny opens his eyes again to catch a peek of the other bed. Surely enough there was no form occupying it, the bed made with military precision. "Mh...got an early start then..." a way too early start even for his own standard.

"They barely sleep..." Simon grumbles and let's out a long huff, resigning to the fact he isn't falling back asleep anytime soon.

"Ye alright love...?" Johnny reaches up to rub his hand through Simon's short hair. A rare occasion for him to take off his mask, even here. Johnny would enjoy every second of it. With gentle movements he guides Simon's head a bit further up so he can place soft kisses to his face. Over his scars, his nose, his cheeks, his lips.

Simon let's out a sigh, lazily kissing him back. "M'fine...jus' exhausted," he did sound it.

Johnny nods quietly, pressing another kiss to his forehead. It had been a long time since they'd taken time just for themselves, their apartment was practically just sitting back collecting dust from how little they managed to actually use it.

"We should take a vacation when we're done here," Johnny suggests.

Simon doesn't get any time to reply before the door is thrown open. Johnny shoots an arm over his shoulders, to shield his face with his arm just in case. The both of them relax seeing Kyle's face linger in the doorway, he looked around the room settling on the two in a pile with a sigh.

"Would you two lovebirds get a move on," Kyle huffs and crosses his arms.

Johnny groans dramatically, making a show of how exhausting Kyle's request really is. "You could always just join us Garrick," he suggests instead, wiggling his eyebrows long enough to make both men groan.

"I'm good," Kyle shakes his head but can hardly hide the smile on his face, "any of you seen Spider? We can't find 'em."

"The fuck do ye mean ye can't find 'em, they can't have gotten that far out," Johnny paces around in the kitchen. His usual energy spiking at the odd occurrence of an unpredictable event. The facts were staring him the face. You were nowhere in the house, nowhere around the house, told nobody and left no note. You were just gone.

You wouldn't just have run away, would you?

He looks over at Simon. He'd put his mask back on, his eyes closed behind it. He still seemed half asleep, nursing a cup of hot tea in his hands.

"They could have gone to town, taking a look around and forgot to tell anyone?" Kyle throws one option on the table. He'd prepared breakfast for himself, sitting opposite of Simon munching down on it.

"We need tae go find them," Johnny says and rubs his nose. There's something uneasy settling in his system, not knowing where you are, what you were up to. He was sure you were capable, that you knew what you were doing, but you had told no one. Even if you were fine, there had to be some stern talk to make sure you wouldn't pull a stunt like this again. Not even Price was liking this at all.

And speaking of Price. Johnny's attention sharpens when the captain comes back into the kitchen. "Laswell heard nothing either, but she mentioned they talked of the mountains" Price shakes his head lightly. "They likely went for them, but we have the town to look into as well."

"We'll split up, cover more ground, they are likely fine on their own but I’d like to have a talk with them so bring them back. Ghost, Soap you take the surrounding area, follow the trail towards the foot of the mountains. Me and Gaz will take a visit to the town, sniff around and see what else we can figure out about this community."

Simon is already on the move, abandoning his still steaming tea at the table. Johnny is hot on his heels, refusing to let him go and make some stupid choice in the heat of it. He still didn't fully understand it. The lingering connection between the two of you, but he knew that it was important. He wasn't going to let him down.

"Listen up My Angel, this is one our newest members. My very own brother, Graham," The Father introduces you to the buffer man standing in front of you. He's taller than him, keeps a short buzzcut you've come to expect from anybody here. It didn't take long before it was enforced on both the men and women, didn't matter what anybody said to it.

The collective has grown significantly and fast. Michael even insisted on being called The Father. You didn't quite understand why. He never explained himself, merely enforced it like he enforced the haircuts. You guessed it was to keep a resemblance between him and God, but you found it more creepy than holy.

His connections expanded a lot more over a very short time. People from far and wide was informed about what you all did here, and they travelled all the way to join you. It was a great feeling. You quickly received a lot more responsibilities for the younger sheep, but you found a lot of the exercises were more cathartic than anything.

"It's good to meet you," Graham speaks your name with a cold indifference. He wasn't very interested in anything that wasn't his brother. He crossed his arms over his chest, looked expectantly at The Father.

You're distracted. That much is obvious to both men on either side of you. Despite doing your best to keep your focus, you keep drifting towards different thoughts. Your gaze continuously looking towards the gate where the mail picked up from town would usually come through.

It's been several weeks, almost two months.

Simon still hasn't answered you.

You felt The Fathers hand gently push against your back, guiding you forward. "Graham trains more unorthodox K9's," he explains while making sure to place you between the both of them, "he specialized in dogs and wolves before he transferred here."

"Don't oversell it Michael," Graham grumbles. He looks off to the side, observing the newer recruits running drills around a makeshift obstacle course.

The Father clears his throat. In all the time you've known him, you've never seen him even close to nervous. "Point remaining...he's going to...train you...afterwards you're going to help him train up the rest," he sounds as if he isn't sure. The final details not yet decided.

Your eyebrows furrow at that. You already have the formal training; you're learning rapidly from shadowing The Father and you don't think you're doing half bad. Still, you needed more training? What else did you have to learn?

"Don't worry your pretty head angel," his hand finds a firm grip on the back on your neck, "just be good, follow orders and everything will turn out just fine."

"Good, again."

Your head was spinning from the pain. He'd had you going for hours at a time, didn't let you stop till you lost consciousness. Your thighs ached, your heart pounding out of your chest. The objective was simple. Shoot the targets he'd set up.

You'd finally completed a full round, and Graham's expression hadn't even changed a bit. He didn't care.

It's not like he was making it any easier on you. Whatever medicine he'd shot into your blood at the start was starting to make your head throb. You could still see the broken glass of the syringe laying amidst the sand and dirt. It glinted in the lowering sunlight.

The wooden targets were starting to get this bad habit of taking form, of looking more and more like moving people. People with angry faces, people with hurtful words, people with guns and ill intent. Around them the shadows crept, licking up against the figures and swallowing them hole. You weren't given much time to question as you were flung through the obstacle course another time.

In the beginning he put on a song on a speaker. An older one, slow and rather beautiful, a love song you think.

It's been on loop ever since. He seems obsessed with it, humming along with the tune for the hundred time as you run through the course. You hit your targets with a shake in your arm, making you miss a few a couple of times. It staggers your progress, and it's like you can feel his displeased look in the back of your neck.

You keep going, shooting at the shadowy figures that remain stationary. He's not saying anything you don't think, but still, you can hear his comments in your ears.

Do better

You're better than this

Wrong

Follow my orders

You miss the last target, by a stroke of bad luck. The ground comes closer all too rapidly when your body decides to give out. It refused to remain standing, to continue the strain that could no longer be received properly.

You heave for air, your grip on the gun all too lose. It falls to the ground and you just manage to push it out of the way before you collapse all the way onto your back. The air is too warm for this, your body already drenched in sweat.

He comes to hover above you.

You don't have time to squirm away.

Graham pulls up your shirt, takes his knife and adds another cut next to the other five. Your scream falls on deaf ears. He was ruthless in his violence. He knew exactly where to cut, knew exactly how deep to make it so you'd lose blood without dying. He timed the seconds in your blood loss, he kept an obsessive eye on your movements, your expressions, until he knew your tells better than you did.

He was lethally precise.

Graham hauls you back up to your feet, shoving the gun back in your hand and turns you back to the obstacle course.

"Cull the herd."

Somewhere along the way, the vials became less mandatory. Mr. Graham stopped forcing them on you one random night. It should've relieved you, no longer being woken up before you normally did with violent movements and a syringe pressed into your skin, but the abrupt change dysregulates you.

You still didn't sleep easy, expecting to be unnaturally woken up by either Mr. Graham or The Father with whatever they had decided they needed from you. Not having the altering substance in your system started feeling weird. You began to crave it again, the precision you had with it, the strength and clearness in your mind. You missed how clearly your targets would be highlighted for you.

So, you started injecting it on your own.

Mr. Graham never objected to it. He supplied you whenever you were low with nothing more than a knowing smile and a strong hand on your shoulder. Whether he ever regretted it, he never told you, but he did notice the change in your mental state. The rapid decline like falling down a ladder, you'd grab unto it, try to save yourself, only for it throw you off once again.

At first, he didn't mind it, even gave you an extra length of patience whenever you'd start to space out outside of fighting, or when you'd take longer to process his words when things were too calm for you.

But then you started to get snappy, too eager for the fight your body ached for.

You hadn't even realized it was the wrong thing before you had done it. Maybe the day had been too long, maybe you were overworked, too tired. It didn't matter, it was you that fired the shot. You had taken the injection earlier than usual, double the dose so it would last until training.

As always, Mr. Graham had met you on the field but he wasn't alone this time. The Father, being ever so gracious, decided to observe you both this time. You had stood dutifully next to Mr. Graham, your head bowed, posture straight, your mind a strange mix of muddy and sharp. Shadows crept at the corner of your vision, making you twitch.

You felt unsteady. Your trigger finger twitching with an odd need to hunt, to expel the uncomfortable energy swirling in you, an energy that needed to be used. All the excess adrenaline seemed to even be noticed by The Father.

"Are you alright, My Angel?"

Mr. Graham gives you a look that's hard to discern. Like he's trying to figure out where on the scale you are from collapsing and going rabid. He gets his answer in the worst way he'd have wanted it.

Something too real moves in your vision, rounding the corner of a building. A small shadowed figure, too stark in the contrast of the white wall. It smiled cruelly, moved erratically and it triggered every sensor in your brain. You act without thinking.

A loud squeaking sound comes from the creature. It collapses to the ground like a dying animal. The shadows slink away revealing the silhouette of a dog, laying gasping on the ground, whimpering and clinging to the life you took from it.

None of them react at first.

Three pairs of eyes watching the life drain. One shocked, one calm, one furious.

You don't even hear the angry words coming out of Mr. Graham's mouth. Your world is spinning, your head is buzzing and you still haven't quite recognized what you had just done. Which of them you had just killed.

He grabs your arm, drags you along to no protest from The Father. You don't remember the way, or where he took you. You only remember the pain of being thrown into the dark room of stone walls. There's no window, no light, and nobody else.

"I'll come get you once you've learned to calm the fuck down."

Those words are all he leaves you with before closing the door. Your breathing is unsteady when you lean against the cold wall and slowly lower yourself to the ground. It's unnerving. You know they're there. They're always there. Watching you, taunting you, baiting you into doing something.

They didn't make noise before; they didn't talk before but now in the darkness they still feel the need to make their presence known.

Calm down calm down calm down

You don't know whether it's you or something else that keeps repeating it. Your heart rate elevates, your body starts to shake. You try to scream out for help but your lips don't move. You don't even hear the little whimpers coming from your throat.

They creep around in the dark. They inch closer. They caress your skin. They fester inside your head.

Spider?

You freeze up in your corner at the familiar voice inside your mind. You don't want to look because you know who you'll see.

"No no no no no no."

Your hands clutch around your head, pulling at your hair.

"Go away!"

I brought food

"No go away! Please! Don't- don't do this."

Go on, I could hear your growling stomach from the gate

"Please!"

I made it

"You're not- you're- not- not-"

Did you hurt yourself?

"Leave me alone! You're not real!"

Whenever you're ready, little Spider

The snow has a blinding purity that's always mesmerized you. It stains so easily, the slightest touch disturbs the perfectly laid coat, creating chaos in the pillows of comfort and sanity. You'd spent most of the morning, most of the day, trekking through that purity and soiling it with the dirt underneath your boots.

There had always been a specific kind of thrill in your chest when you defied orders directly given. A small part of you taken back in your own hands, for better or for worse. You used to thrive so well under watch and order. Even if that's not the case anymore, you'd really ought to listen to the words of your betters.

At least then maybe you wouldn't be here. Standing as still as a statue, having a staring contest with a wolf and its red eyes. They're terribly vibrant. Reminiscent of the blood you could spill now.

Your hand clutched around your gun, ready to move at the order of a split-second decision. You're not here to hunt, you have to remind yourself. Never mind the wolf, never mind your thoughts. It doesn't matter that you used to hunt with them, that they used to sniff out your target for you.

It doesn't matter It doesn't matter It doesn't matter It doesn't matter it does-

The thing isn't even full grown. You'd have been more inclined to leave it alone if it wasn't for the bleeding cross running down it's snout. The red mixed with its fur in a beautiful symmetry. It's growling at you, you think. It makes you wonder if this is what your old targets used to feel when the wolves would corner them. Unlikely. They usually kept a face mixed with fear and hopelessness. Runaway members of the collective never lasted long under the knife.

There's a part of you that doesn't dare look away from it. The fatigue in your eyes almost do it for you, the snow around the creature makes it melt into the surroundings. The wolf was too focused, too interested in the way you looked, in the way you smelled.

He's still training them

They were likely right. If Mr. Graham was still alive, still with the collective, he'd be doing what he'd always been doing.

Cull the herd

Be the guide, the cold example

Cull the herd

And if that was the case, it wouldn't only be wolves lurking around out here. You'd need to relay this to Price, or Laswell, without rousing too much suspicion. It was a mere hunch, a feeling in your gut, but one you'd learnt to trust long ago.

You start to slowly move backwards, if you were tactical about it, you could still come out of this unscathed. Something flickers in the corner of your vision. All it takes is a moments distraction and the creature lunges at you.

The gunshot echoes in your ears. Your instincts took over, fired for you, and in a rare moment of luck you actually manage to hit. The wolf falls to the snow, its left eye is half gone and blood oozes out of it. The snow becomes dirty in its blood.

You take a step closer to it, observing the dead creature. The cross is gone. Something else flickers in the corner of your vision, something bigger and a lot faster. Luck doesn't strike twice, favouring others in a moment of misfortune.

Sharp teeth sink into your shin. You cry out, despite the second wolf only managing to hang onto more clothes than skin, it still penetrates. Scalding pain shoots up your leg. A second gunshot sounding out. You're not sure how you managed to hit it properly this close, but the wolf falls to the ground next to its mate.

You sink to the ground next to them, breathing heavily as if you'd run half a marathon. Your brain runs loops around itself trying to understand what had happened, why both of them had attacked like that, and why the bleeding crosses on their heads were no longer there.

Was it a trick from him? A trick of your mind?

It would take a lot for you to even attempt to call yourself sane any longer but this felt out of hand. Despite your own distorted reality, when it came to the cult you could usually rely on the rampant voices in your head. Were you really turning this paranoid?

With groans and sputters, you manage to move yourself around enough to take a look at your leg. It could've been worse; the damage wasn't deep but you wouldn't be making it to the mountains like this. You let out a curse to the heavens. You'd been so close to achieving your goal before somebody came looking for you, and now you'd have to backtrack.

You had the two options, and you knew you had to choose the boring one.

A higher pitched scream in the distance catches your attention, followed along with a loud splash and arguing not that far from you. The snow carried the sound a bit further than normal but it wouldn't be more than a minute’s walk from your location.

And just when you thought you could make your way back with no complications.

You hoist yourself back on your feet, letting out a hiss as your leg protests to the movement with more pain shot up all the way to your thigh. You lean on a nearby tree, perking your ears to listen to the nearby voices.

At first you can't make out what they're saying but...they're familiar.

Simon and Soap.

Your stomach drops.

Price must have sent them out to look for you. Part of you scolds yourself for not leaving some sort of note or message. No matter how elusive. At least then they might not have come out for you. You could've gotten further, if it hadn't been for the sake of those pesky wolves.

You run a hand over your face, the gloves taking some of the fallen snow off your eyebrows. You walk in the direction of their voices, using their argument to steer you in the right direction.

There was safety in numbers now that they were out here. You weren't keen on being mauled over by another pack of wolves.

"For fucks sake Johnny, I told you to watch where you're placing those feet of yours!"

"Not my fault the bloody stones are so slippery in this weather!"

"Bloody hell just get your arse up!"

You peek out between a set of bushes, the thicket giving you enough cover to observe the situation before you approached them. You tilt your head, your eyebrows turning a bit up in surprise at the sight.

Soap, coming out the water from one of the deeper creeks, completely wet.

Your lip twitches, and you feel the urge to bubble up with laughter. You don't know how he fell in, and you don't really need to know to see the entire event as hilarious.

"Bloody river, stupid weather, stupid snow" he grumbles angrily as he tries to dust off the water like it was a simple speck of dirt.

Simon sighs heavily, his entire gear moving along up and down with him. "You need to go back, gonna get hypothermia if you stay out here," he says sternly. There's concern laced in the order, but it's an undeniable order nonetheless.

"No way...am not letting you stay out here alone, Price told us tae look for 'em together," Soap protests.

"Don't need to look much further," you sigh and speak up.

You emerge from the thicket, startling the both of them at the same time. They're drawn guns are trained on you in an instant, and in return your own gun is trained on Soap. Force of habit and all that.

Simon relaxes when he gets a proper look at you. Soap following soon after.

"Good, you're not dead then" he speaks in a relieved manner. Did he really think you'd act that recklessly? Probably.

"You really think I'd let myself get killed over something that idiotic?"

He looks at you for a moment, but not because he needed to give it any thought. No, his eyes aren't displaying a complex need for that, because he knows the answer. He's giving you the chance to take it back, to explain the limp in your walk. You don't.

"No," he says just as sternly in the crass voice of his.

"Ghost is right," you say and turn towards soap and his half assed attempt at squeezing water out of his gear, "we need to get you back home...get you warmed up."

"Aye."

The entirety of the town is already giving Price the creeps. He's seen his fair share of things in his time, the awful, the creepy, the monstrous. But the feeling this town gives him? Unlike most things he's encountered.

There's no hostility, nothing but the purest of hospitality even for mere tourists. There's something wrong with the smiles, their incessant need to accommodate practically anything he asks for.

He opens the door to the car, holding the two coffee cups against his chest. Garrick reaches over, takes them from him when he gets himself comfortable in the front seat. "I think I got your order right...don't kill me if it isn't, got a bit distracted in line," Price grumbles and leans back in his seat.

Garrick takes a sip of his own, then handing back Price's cup to him. "It's just fine cap, thanks" he mumbles and drinks some more. He let's out a satisfied groan and relaxes back into the seat. "Despite how weird this place is, at least they know how to make coffee."

"Hm that we can agree on," Price takes a sip of his. It's not bad, but he's definitely had better. The shop he went to would do better serving tea on the menu as well.

He'd parked the car in one of the open parking lots, not many seemed to come here. Most of the day it remained practically empty except for the few people coming to and from town. They'd spent the last two hours walking through town, posing as the tourists they undeniable were today. They hadn't learnt much, except for the fact the locals remembered faces too well for comfort.

Though it was to be expected, the town wasn't too big.

"Walked by the church..." Price says with a sigh, "struck up conversation with a few of the locals changing up the sign outside."

"Got anything useful out of them?" Garrick asks as if he'd conducted a whole interrogation.

"They've got daily mass...but most people come on Sundays as to be expected," he tells him before taking another sip, "a few of us should attend on Sunday."

Garrick let's out a louder groan, likely already picking up what he's putting down. The man clearly didn't want to, but like anything else they'd do here in this town, it was all work. Just work.

Price takes another long gulp of his coffee. The energy barely ever worked for him these days, the stress getting to his bones. He looks out towards the bustling little market a bit further up the long road. There wasn't many, but most of them would come through the market at least once a day. Garrick had mentioned a few familiar faces he'd spoken to in his other trips to town.

"Captain, do you think they'll...." he goes quiet, hesitating to finish his question.

"They'll find them," Price says assuredly.

"That's not..."

The captain doesn't bother looking at him, gives him a moment to think his question through. "Speak your mind, Garrick," he urges.

"How much do we actually know about them?" he knows why he's asking. Price had his own doubts, his own concerns, when Laswell first presented your file on his desk and insisted this was the only way.

He hadn't fully shed his doubts yet.

"We know enough, sergeant" it's not the answer he wants nor the answer he needs but it's the answer Price has for him. He'd have to do more digging, for the safety of the team, for the prosperity of the mission itself. You were too big a mystery, one where the only thing he could rely on was Laswell's word.

"They've been helpful, they'll continue to be helpful, it'll have to be enough for now." Price adds on shortly after.

 Garrick says nothing in return, simply continues to drink his coffee dissatisfied.

Price starts up the car, intending to have the rest of the way home in silence. And it was, much to his admiration. The sergeant could have a talkative tongue when he got excited about something, he'd think this whole situation would give him a few things to say.

Instead, it leaves him a quiet contemplating mess. Much like the rest of them.

He only ever speaks up in a low grumble when he sees the tip of the house revealing itself in the distance, only to render himself quiet once again.

The silence stretches on until Kyle sees the three figures bickering at the front door. "Isn't that..." he trails out as he realizes they probably don't have the key for the home. He does his best at holding back his laughter. It earns him a side glare from Price.

"Seems like they found 'em."

Price turns the car around and parks it in its usual spot next to the temporary home. "The fuck happened to you?!" Garrick says bemused by the sight of Soap.

Price does raise a questioning brow as he exits the car after Garrick. They were only supposed to go get Spider, why the man was wet as a dog was lost on him.

"Fell in the river..." Soap grumbles.

Garrick fails to hold in his laughter this time around, snorting on the spot. "I know you like water but maybe you should stay away from the literal ice water mate," he claps Soap on the back a few times.

Soap pushes him away annoyed, "agh away n' bile yer heid!"

Price rolls his eyes, pushing past the two to unlock the front door. As soon as it's open, you dart past him to head inside in the warmth with a surprising urgency. He looks to Simon, coming to stand beside him to move inside as well.

"They're fine...mostly fine...we're all fine," he assures him.

He eyes you suspiciously. His boys might've said you were fine, you might've said you were fine to them. Little observation told him that your limping leg wasn't all that fucking fine.

He followed you out back, the rest remaining in the living room to keep MacTavish warm. "Spider, slow it up" he spoke up causing you to freeze in place. He walked with steady steps until he could place himself in front of you.

"Come, I need to talk to you, and we need to take a look at that," he gestures to the leg that has a stained pantleg. He turns back around to walk to his and Garrick's room. He doesn't bother looking back to see if you're following, he has a deep-rooted feeling that you will.

You may be a rulebreaker when you get the confidence, but there's still obedience in you. From where he doesn't understand just yet, but it doesn't take all of his wisdom to gather a lot went down when you were hunting the cult on your own.

He holds the door open for you. Your eyes meet as you make your way inside, there's that stubbornness he's used to seeing in Simon. "Sit," he points to one of the beds pressed into the corner while he closes the door.

You do as he says, your voice stuck in your throat. He rummages through the cabinets, finds the first aid kit he always saved a few of. He didn't even need to tell you to roll up your pantleg, you'd taken the hint way before.

The wounds weren't deep, but whatever you'd been bitten by had been out to be vicious. "You'll need to get a doctor to look at this...lucky for you the town's got a local practice."

You tense up at that, dodge his touch as he tries to keep your leg steady enough to clean. "It's fine..." you say hastily, "It just needs to be cleaned I don't need to see anyone."

"Yes you do and that's an order," Price is stern in his voice.

One thing was to go out of your way to disobey the laid-out deal between the two of you, to run away to look for clues on your own, but this? He wasn't about to let you walk about with an injury that'll make you hurt yourself even more.

You go quiet at that. It's enough for him to grab your calf and put a wet rag against your wound. You flinch but make no sound. Your muscles are tense under his grip and your eyes shut tight.

He allows you the moment of silence, understanding the discomfort of it. He doubted you'd be able to answer anything if he even asked you right now. He cleans off the excess blood, checking the toughness of the teeth punctures. It wasn't as serious as it looked, but you still needed a checkup, he wasn't changing his mind about that.

He removes the rag, and binds the wound. "Did you find anything?" he doesn't look at you as he asks, merely focusing on cleaning up the opened supplies.

"No..." you speak in a low whisper; he wouldn't have heard unless he was this close.

You don't elaborate, and he doesn't find the energy in him to ask.

"Next time you want to go on an adventure like that you take someone with you, or at the very least inform me," he's back to speaking sternly, the voice of a captain that's been carefully crafted over the years in service.

"I can't have rogue soldiers running around, is that understood?" he looks up to catch your eyes.

You hold his stare with an uncomfortable intensity, trying to be as intimidating as he is.

"Yes sir."

He pats your calf, tugging down your pant leg once again. That time you held back your flinch, but it was obvious in your eyes to him. He takes a moment to observe you, trying to dig through your rougher exterior, to see if you were really softer under in it all.

Had you been soft once?

He calls your name in a quiet voice, makes a point to use a softer voice with rounder edges.

"There's parts of your file not even I have access to," he starts slow, careful, then pauses. You're wary of him, more than the others. He chalks it up to his authority over you, the one you can't quite find your place underneath.

"What's haunting you that much...that you won't even let me in on surprise plans...we're all a team here we-"

You rise from your seat with no warning. You're quick to make your way around him, careful to not step on any of the scattered things on the floor. He doesn't stop you nor does he continue what he was about to pry out of you.

He understands in some underhanded way. He'd dealt with Simon a lot longer than he'd dealt with you. There were undeniable similarities yet still something entirely different between the two.

"You'll go to town first thing tomorrow morning, I'll get Ghost to take you" he speaks up from his seat on the floor. You stop somewhere close to the door, listening to his words, his order. You don't answer him, but he knows you heard him, that you'll heed him this once.

You leave the room, closing the door with a care for potential noise.

Likes, Reblogs and comments are always appreciated, love ya! <3

Taglist: @chickennn-soupp @unlikelyaperson @ghostlythots @lilynotdilly @spicyspicyliving @kaoyamamegami @ellabellabunny123 @woodlandgirl22-blog-blog @haipasa

[riverdamien]

Life Is An Allusion!

"Life Is A Grand Allusion!"

(Elijah's Trauma!"

1 Kings 19:4-8

New Living Translation

4 Then he went on alone into the wilderness, traveling all day. He sat down under a solitary broom tree and prayed that he might die. “I have had enough, Lord,” he said. “Take my life, for I am no better than my ancestors who have already died.”

5 Then he lay down and slept under the broom tree. But as he was sleeping, an angel touched him and told him, “Get up and eat!” 6 He looked around and there beside his head was some bread baked on hot stones and a jar of water! So he ate and drank and lay down again.

7 Then the angel of the Lord came again and touched him and said, “Get up and eat some more, or the journey ahead will be too much for you.”

8 So he got up and ate and drank, and the food gave him enough strength to travel forty days and forty nights to Mount Sinai,[a] the mountain of God.

--------------------

Elijah is one of my heroes. He admits radically when he is traumatized by the violence of the regime he has fled; it has crippled his ability to care for himself and God responds to Elijah's very precarious situation, by performing an extraordinary act of solidarity, not in the prophet's violent rampage but in his moment of vulnerability.

In the same way these past weeks I have been pushed into my most vulnerable moments, moments of deep fear, rage, and anger; Over twenty years ago I was stabbed in the bottom of my skull and a piece of the instrument broke off, where it has remained simply being there. In my bi-annual examination in L.A., the Doctor discovered that it is now slowly moving, inoperable, and will in all likelihood kill me in the next three years. The song The Grand Allusion by Styx rings in my head:

“Welcome to the Grand illusion Come on in and see what's happening Pay the price, get your tickets for the show The stage is set, the band starts playing Suddenly your heart is pounding Wishing secretly you were a star But don't be fooled by the radio The TV or the magazines They show you photographs of how your life should be But they're just someone else's fantasy So if you think your life is completely confusing because you never win the game Just remember that it's a Grand illusion 'Cause deep inside we're all the same We're all the same... So if you think your life is completely confusing because your neighbors got it made Just remember that it's a Grand illusion And deep inside we're all the same America spells competition Join us in our blind ambition Get yourself a brand new motor car Someday soon we'll stop to ponder What on Earth's this spell we're under We made the grade and still we wonder Who the hell we are?” Styx

Like "Jessie" who long ago drew the painting, amid the depression, that led to his suicide, over his plight over being gay I have and am questioning everything I am, and whether or not I have failed. All I have tried to do is be a pastor, listening, caring, and supporting. Is all this simply a "grand allusion!"

Last night I encountered a fifty-year-old man, eating out of a garbage can, and I said, "Hey come here and I will buy you some food. He had not eaten in two days, was obviously on drugs, and was mentally ill, feeling threatened by everyone. I bought him a couple of pizza slices and listened to him. I wonder a lot if I have failed, after all, I mostly listen to people, I do not feed hundreds a day, I do not scream at the government, I sit, with a sign once a week, and if someone wants to talk, we talk, hopefully planting a seed of change. I am simply doing "Little by Little!" I believe that gentleman is the "broken body of Christ", and I fed Jesus! Is that a grand allusion?

"Life is a Grand Allusion!" Society has surrounded us by ways of finding meaning, and religious traditions that ultimately are destructive when taken to the extreme, and all I see is people suffering on the street and dying.

I have spent the past three weeks in the desert alone, with just me and my Bible, reflecting on maybe I should end it now- I am a failure, and no one gives a da. . mn! "Take my life, Lord, for I am no better than my ancestors. ."

Amid my fears and depression, a poem that has meant so much to me for years rang into my head:

“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.” ― Rainer Maria Rilke

And the words of the Angel came to me: "Get up and eat some more, or the journey ahead will be to much for you.!(19:7). I will get up and continue my journey in ministry!

And so I am moving back into life and will seek to "Live the question now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it live along some distant day into the future!"

And in living the question I will  "Live to the point of folly and in the words of

Kawaga: “Being a freelance tramp, a

Vagabond for Christ. I must go until

Christ’s work is done. I go like the wind!” Deo Gratias! Thanks be to God!

Put me in jail, then. Throw me behind your religious bars since you have dubbed me a breaker of your law. I live my days in the courtroom of your criticism. I move unbothered under the gaze of your gavel. I have no interest in defending myself before your bench. Go on, clench your fists, raise your voice to make your point. Type the rebuke that you must make on my page. Who asked you to come through anyway? Is this rage your duty? We operate under a different set of obligations and get worked up to frustration for different reasons, even though we both claim fidelity to God. If you were interested, which I doubt, here is where my passion lies: feed the hungry, clothe the naked, heal the sick, defend the rights of the orphan, plead the widow’s cause, and woe to you who unjustly enforce God’s Law. Why spend your energy policing me when that same energy could be used to love, fiercely? Justice, mercy, and humility. Go learn what this means. Drew Jackson Deo Gratias! Thanks be to God!

======================

30th Anniversary Celebration

Victor’s Pizza

6 p.m.

November 9, 2024

WE ARE BEGGARS! WE REALLY NEED MONEY--Really Badly At the moment!

FOR FOOD, SOCKS, HARM REDUCTION AND OTHER SERVICES!

P.O. Box 642656

415-305-2124

temenos@gmail.com

pay pal

www.temenos.org

(Temenos and Dr. River seek to remain accessible to everyone. We do not endorse particular causes, political parties, or candidates, or take part in public controversies, whether religious, political or social--Our pastoral ministry is to everyone!

Temenos Catholic Worker

P.O. Box 642656

San Francisco, CA 94164

Dr. River Sims, sfw

[myrandomthoughtsblog]

I know this bog is pretty much about me being aroace but here's a topic that needs to be spooken, especially coming from Christians - religious trauma.

I've never talked about my experience with it to anyone expect my parents because I've never heard fellow Christians talking about it, so for a very long time I thought that my trauma wasn't valid or something, but I think it's time to talk about it.

TW - eating disorder, trauma, mention of throwing up, mention of passing out, crying, starvation

-

-

I was born in a Christian household and always liked to go to Christians summer camps, but I had always went to only one, so when I was 7 or 8 I asked my parents to send me to one my best friend was going to, and they said okay.

The camp was going to last a bit more than a week and I was super ecxited to have fun there and stuff. Even when I was pretty young I was kind independent too, like I knew how to stood up for myself and was okay with being apart from my parents for some time.

When I arrived there I was very happy, even when I didn't end up staying in the same room as my bestie, I said goodbye to my parents and was waiting with the camp counselors for the rest of the girls that would be staying in the same room as me.

There was 12 girls in each room plus 3 counselors. We spent the morning getting to know better each other and by the lunch time I was friends with all of them.

Lunch time - when all of my issues started. I picked up the food I wanted to eat, and I was a pretty pick eater, still am, mostely because I have sensory issues, but anyways. At the time I didn't like to eat salad or pretty much any type of vegetable, just like most children, and since I was healthy my parents never forced me to eat it, saying that at some point I would start eating it cuz I wanted to.

The thing is, one of the counselors didn't like kids who don't eat "well", and she kept saying to all of the girls in my room about the importance of eating healthy foods but in a very agressive way.

No one really cared about what happened and we went on with our day. The activities the camp had were all very cool, and before I could realise it was dinner time, where again that same counselor kept being super agressive towards the girls that didn't like salad.

The next day was pretty nice as well, until lunch time. While I was getting my food, the other counselor kept trying to convience me to eat things I didn't like, she wasn't been agressive so I simply told her I didn't like it. Let's just say that the first counselor wasn't very happy to see my plate.

Later when we were all having dinner she sat next to me in the table and put salad, vegetables and things I had already told I didin't like in my plate. I politely told her again that I didn't like it and then procedded to not eat it, she got really mad and told me how I was in sin for throwing food away, tho she was the one that put it on my plate, like it littery was on her plate.

Being a kid and all I got sad over it and told her that it wasn't my intention, so I told her one more time that I didn't like it, not because I had never tried, but because eating that made me wanna puke. She said I was being exaggerated but she would let it pass.

I realised that she was been mean but I thought she would let it go, what did not happen. In the next day during our lunch she put food from her plate in mine again, I predented to not see and ate only what I had gotten for mysel. When everyone from my room had finished and we were about to go play volleyball she didn't let me get up saying she wanted to talk with me.

I thought she wanted to know if I was enjoying the camp since it was my first time but no, instead she told me that beginning from now I would only be allowed to leave the table if I ate salad, vegetables and other suff, I got really confused like ms girl what are you talking about this makes literally no sense, but to my hapiness the third counselor made us go with the rest of the group.

During the dinner she made me get the same amout of salad as the food I was eating, and at the time I was growing and stuff so I ate quite a lot. Since I didn't want to fight in the middle of the cafeteria I just agreed and went to my sit, but procedded to not eat what she wanted me too.

When everyone had finished and we were about to get up from the table she held me down so I wouldn't go and told everyone that they could go, and that since I was still eating she would say behind with me. I told her that I was actually done but she told me that I was supossed to eat all the stuff she literally forced me to get.

I was fr almost crying since I knew I couldn't eat those things without trowing up, so I told her that not even my parents made me eat it, then the said counselor had the audacity to tell me that she didn't care and that my parents would thank her when they came to pick me up for making me healthy, like if I wasn't healthy already. I saw no way out and ate almost everything while having to hold back my tears.

I told her that I couldn't eat everything since I was aready full from all the food I ate before, she didn't like it but didn't say anything. I went to the camp room, almost threw up and went to sleep crying and hoping she wouldn't do this tomorrow.

But she did. Everything happened again and she sat like super close to me and would whisper in my ear stuff like "not eating everything is a sin" or "your parents would not like if they saw you been so difficult". I knew I had no way out so I tried to cut everything and mix it with my food so I wouldn't feel the taste, I mean, eating it just one more time couldn't be that bad right, plus, maybe if she saw that I ate everything nicely she would stop it.

Even mixing it I could still taste it and feel it's texture, after eating all I could without throwing up I told her I was full, so she told me to get less food during dinner cuz I had to eat it, I just nodded and she proceeded to make me feel embarassed by making everyone that was in the table talk about how eating those things weren't hard at all.

I was very hungry when we were eating dinner since we had played a lot that day, so I got lots of food and for some reason that counselor wasn't there. When I was almost finishing everything she came to our table with a huge plate of salad, vegetables and tomatos telling me to eat it all. In orded to eat it and not feel it's taste I mixed it with the jelly we had for dessert.

All the kids there got pretty confused when they saw that and I said I actually liked mixing it because I was embarassed to tell all that was happening, plus, since she was the authority there I thought I could't disobey her and stuff.

The jelly mix was horrible, so during the rest of the days there I would eat very litte so the amout of salad and everytihng she made me eat wasn't much, making the mix a little bit more edible. After every single meal I would cry and try not to throw up. At some point I couldn't bare it anymore. Despite eating candies I would buy at the cafeteria I was starving and feeling very weak, plus, I didn't had much money left.

In the other camp I used to go, despite being in the mountains and the phone connection being terrible, The campers could call their parents if they wanted to, I had never done it since I could take care of myself pretty well and didn't miss my parents that bad. But I couldn't take it anymore.

So one day I asked one of the counselors (not the abusive one) if I could call my parents since I promised to do so and was missing them a lot, a felt very bad for lying and kept blaming myself for sining and stuff, and to make it even worse she told me that I couldn't do it and that the phone was only for the priest, since he was the person that took care of the camp.

I thought about telling him but didn't had courage to do so, thinking that he wouldn't believe in me and I would end up making things worse. I also didn't had courage to tell my best friend everything that was happening.

She never saw any of it since we didn't sat in the ame table cuz we were in different rooms, but she had realised that something was wrong with me since I was way more quite, looked pretty pale and was crying a lot more then I used to when we were praying.

I had always being amotional so crying while praying wasn't new or an issue, but I was crying because I was starving, feeling weak, being forced to eat things that made me sick and I fucking missed my house. We were all kids so my friend didn't really think of anything after I told her I was fine.

The trauma is here, the religious part came from thinking I was sinning since I wasn't been thankful for the food (which I was but the counselor was pretty good in manipulating me, cuz I wasn't paying attention during our Christian times - I was either crying or trying not to think about starving, and cuz it all happened in a Christian space, that in my head was supossed to be a safe space.

Finally the camp was over and as soon as my parents arrived they realised I wasn't okay, I was pale, skinny and very sad, also I told them I wanted to go home, what I had never done in the other camp. We were going to have lunch with my friend but cancelled and drove home.

During the ride I told them everyting and cried a lot. I had never seen my parents so mad and shocked. As soon as we arrived to our house I finally eat properly and my mom phoned the camp to tell the priest everything that happened.

The priest didn't really believe in it, saying that the abusive counselor would never do said things, but with the pressure my parents were doing by saying I was really weak he said he would take care of it.

Then he proceeded to call every single parent from those 11 girls and my best friend to know if they had seen it happen. After all of them told that their kid had seen weird things with me and that counselor, the priest called all 3 counselors and talked with them about it.

Only after all of it he called my parents to say that he was sorry for what had happened, that the camp had fired said counselor and that in order to make it up to me, the next time I went there it would be free. (like if I would like to go back there lol)

My parents assured me that nothing that happened to me was my fault, that I shouldn't do everything an authority says only because of who they are, and never made me eat those things.

Because of all of that I developed health issues, such as almost passing out if I don't eat enough, being scared to death when thinking about not being able to eat or having to eat things I hate that literally makes me want to throw up.

I still have to deal with this things, and in the first year of this whole experience I had a eating disorder where I would aways eat way more than I had to, and sometimes this still happens.

Also I lost faith in priests and in the church for a very long period of time, I couldn't pray or do anything God related since I thought that all that had happend to me was like a punishment for something I had done, I used to think that God made me go thru all of that because that was what I deserved.

I got very distance from God and it took me a good couple of years to understand that it wasn't my fault, neitheir a punishiment, that was when I undestood that all my trauma had nothing to do with God and everything to do with religion. Still because I had never seen a Christian say they had religious trauma I never spoke to anyone about it, but I thought that it was time to do so.

I never went to that camp again, and definetly don't plan on doing so, there are other issues that came from this whole experience, and yes, I'm okay now, but it doesn't mean that I don't suffer from it anymore.

So if you have any type of religious trauma, being a Christian or not, know that you are not alone, and while it does suck, it gets better and that you are very strong from dealing with it.

[destieltropecollection]

Destiel Trope Collection 2020 Day 17: Hurt/Comfort & Whump

the time has come | @elizaeverafter

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1068 Main Tags/Warnings: no archive warnings apply, non-graphic pet death, angst with a happy ending, hopeful ending, established relationship, married castiel/dean winchester, emotional hurt/comfort Summary: The second Dean walked into their home, he should’ve picked up on the fact that something was wrong. Looking back on it, it was so silent that it was suffocating. There was an unnatural stillness, like their house knew something bad had happened and was trying not to involve itself.

Beautiful | @ialwayscomewhenyoucall

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1367 Main Tags/Warnings: human!cas, hurt/comfort, injured cas, first kiss Summary: “How long has he been sitting there?” Dean starts; he’d been watching Cas and hadn’t heard Sam behind him. “Five hours.” Dean practically spits out the words. “He won’t eat. He won’t move to a more comfortable chair. He won’t even take his damn pain pills. And he can’t tell me that doesn’t hurt, I know what a broken collar bone feels like. He’s just so--” ***** In which Cas, now fully human for several months, has been injured, and Dean has to Use His Words to comfort his friend.

Teardrops For You | @envydean

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1500 Main Tags/Warnings: Grief, Character Death, Established Relationship, Funerals, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Dean and Cas holding each other, Sadness, slight fluff, Angst, Car Accidents, Nightmares, Cuddling, Holding, Crying, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting Summary: The accident killed her and left Dean alive and emotionally broken. He's a disgrace. His best friend is dead and he can't even cry for her.

Soup & Syrup | @suckerfordeansfreckles

Rating: General Word Count: 1548 Main Tags/Warnings: best friends to lovers, getting together, sick Cas Summary: Cas started feeling sick two days ago, throat raw and hurting, every part of his body in pain as if he’ll burn up with fever any second. Then he had to cancel his and Dean's weekly study date in the library this afternoon, to stay home and take a quick nap that accidentally ended up four hours long and left him groggy and sweaty and weird. Dean has been sending him texts, five since he cancelled earlier, and as soon as Cas felt awake and present enough to respond, he called. This is where they are now, around 1 a.m. on a Saturday. He didn’t really stop to look at the clock before he called Dean, but — well. He was just hoping Dean would be awake, maybe out with friends. He was just hoping that maybe, maybe, Dean would come by and dote a little on him. Just because having his best friend around always makes him feel better. Not because he craves Dean’s presence, his palm on Cas’ forehead and his hands tucking him in beneath his blanket. Absolutely not.

The Admission | @deservetobesaved

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1720 Main Tags/Warnings: season 13, all the feelings Summary: Castiel finds out Dean threatened to kill Jack. He also finds out how broken Dean was when he died. So, naturally, he confronts him about it. A sort of fix-it coda, in or after 13x06.

Knowing | @unexpecteddreamz

Rating: General Word Count: 2013 Main Tags/Warnings: Castiel & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Demon Dean Summary: Of all the things Castiel might have expected to see, this was the last... It might well be the last thing he ever sees! Castiel is ""Always willing to bleed for the Winchesters"". Sam doesn't know how to fix what is broken. Dean is having nightmares. How did everything go so wrong so fast?

The Snow's Captives | SargentMom573 (AO3)

Rating: Mature Word Count: 2126 Main Tags/Warnings: Blizzards & Snowstorms, Sick Castiel, Caretaker Dean, Cabin Fic Summary: Dean was not going to make it alive down the mountain in a week’s time. Why? Because Cas was going to kill him, that’s why.

Skin Wars | @cr-noble-writes

Rating: General Word Count: 2319 Main Tags/Warnings: Angst, Artist!Dean, Model!Cas, body painting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cas protecting Dean from himself, shy!Dean, introvert!dean, Baby, graffiti artist!charlie, artist!Balthazar, art critic!Crowley, TV host!Anna, Skin Wars AU Summary: Dean, a traditionally trained artist, is competing for $100,000 in the reality body painting TV show, Skin Wars. He’s lucky enough to get paired with a friend as his model, Cas, for a particularly personal challenge. Dean feels his painting isn’t up to snuff, but what will the judges think?

Take Me Home | @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2683 Main Tags/Warnings: Mentions of Rape, Mentions of Sexual Abuse, Non-con/Rape outside of Castiel/Dean Winchester, Hurt Dean Winchester, Protective Castiel, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, TW: Mentions of Non-con/Rape Summary: “I want to go home.” Dean let out, in a strangled voice. “Of course -” Cas reached for Dean’s hand, prepared to fly them away. Dean pulled away his hand, and rested his head backwards, against the seat. It seemed impossibly long before he finally asked. Unsure, as if somehow he still felt like Castiel could deny him anything. “Could you drive?”

Cold Comfort | @noiproksa

Rating: General Word Count: 3232 Main Tags/Warnings: Sharing Body Heat, Hypothermia, Huddling for Warmth, Cuddling & Snuggling, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Banter Summary: Dean and Cas are trapped in a room with temperatures well below zero. When even sharing vessel heat doesn’t seem to help anymore, they need to do whatever it takes to keep each other alive. (Intended as gen, but can be read as Destiel pre-slash.)

Exodus | @spnsmile

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3365 Main Tags/Warnings: Explicit, noncon, hurt/ comfort Summary: Endverse!Dean comes back alive. He comes back to the camp to find he was gone for almost a month and that Castiel now serves a different captain. Like hell Dean Winchester will let that happen.

save that light | @specsofwings

Rating: Mature Word Count: 4779 Main Tags/Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Assassin Dean Winchester, Human Castiel, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Whump, Kidnapping, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Blasphemy/Religious Imagery and Symbolism, Crucifixion, Major Character Injury, Heavy Angst, Angst With a Happy Ending, Trauma, Healthy Relationship, Hurt/Comfort Summary: He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive— Dean isn’t sure if it’s his brain, if he’s speaking aloud, if it’s Jody, next to him in the car, but he’s alive, Castiel is alive, and then there is darkness.

The Empty's Curse | @cloverhighfive

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 5380 Main Tags/Warnings: major character death, angst, fluff Summary: Dean is dying and there is no getting out of it this time. After a round of goodbyes from friends, Castiel takes Dean on one last ride.

Shiver | @nickelkeep

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 5714 Main Tags/Warnings: Modern with Magic, Witchcraft, Getting Back Together, Blizzards and Snowstorms, Car Accident, Snowed In, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, NSFW Summary: In desperate need of his journal to complete a spell, Dean braves a snowstorm to return to the cabin - and the man - left behind. Can a freak accident repair what's been damaged? Or will their lack of communication push Dean and Cas apart forever?

Six Feet Under Water | zaphodsgirl (AO3)

Rating: Mature Word Count: 7638 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending Summary: This story is inspired by the amazing art of dragonpressgraphics, accompanied by this prompt: "Can be canon or AU (though Canon preferred - see below why) where Cas almost drowns and either Dean witnessed it or rescues him - would love a fic where Cas then has to deal with fear of drowning afterwards - maybe Dean too has nightmares about Cas drowning because of the same experience (bonus if references are made to season 6/7 where Cas walked into the water because of the Leviathans). Loads of angst more than okay as long as story has happy ending"

This Path Is Paved With Kitty Litter | @navajolovesdestiel

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 8392 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe, Grieving Castiel (Supernatural), Caring Dean Winchester, Veterinary Assistant Dean, Deanna The Kitten, Explicit Sexual Content Summary: The man moved from cage to cage, petting each cat in turn. Dean could hear his sigh from where he was standing. Dean walked over to him. The guy looked up at Dean and again, his eyes made Dean’s knees weak. “Hey, guy, you spend a lot of time with these cats. You thinking about adopting one?” The look on the guy’s face went from sad to stricken. “Uh… n-no, I’m… I’m just looking at them.” The look made Dean’s chest hurt.

After the Fallout | @cr-noble-writes

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 8832 Main Tags/Warnings: Post-Apocalypse, Post-Nuclear War, some body horror, Major Character Injuries, Nightmares, Mutants, Minor Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Smut, Angst, Conspiracy, top!dean, Bottom!Cas Summary: Its been years since the nuclear catastrophe that decimated the world. From the moment Dean Winchester stepped foot on the surface again, he’s been running from mutant creatures that want to kill him. When will it end?

I'm Thankful I get to Leave | @sheinthatfandom

Rating: Mature Word Count: 11079 Main Tags/Warnings: thanksgiving dinner, alternate universe- human, dysfunctional family, uncomfortable topics, red flags, emotional manipulation, emotional incest, homophobia, ableism, racism, bad parent mary, bad parent john, bobby used to be married to mary Summary: Screw you Columbus now we have to eat at Mary’s pretending to not be the Jerry Springer version of the Brady Bunch instead of getting ready for Christmas.

The Last Thing I Wanted | @nickelkeep

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 11492 Main Tags/Warnings: AU - Fantasy, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Whump, Prince!Dean, Concubine!Cas Summary: When Castiel is grievously wounded during an unsanctioned battle, it's all Prince Dean can do to make sure he lives the rest of his life comfortably. However, due to the archaic laws of Terra, Castiel is too lowborn to hold lands, deeds, or titles. What better way to solve an archaic problem than with a just-as-antiquated solution?

Healing an Angel | @noiproksa

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 12017 Main Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Castiel, Canon Compliant, Friendship, Team Free Will, Wing Grooming, Aftermath of Torture Summary: Cas has been captured by shapeshifters who have been torturing him for weeks. The aftermath is not pretty, but Dean will do anything to get his angel through this and get him to trust them again. To make matters worse, the mastermind behind Cas’ capture is still alive. Will they be able to keep him from coming after Cas again?

Cloned to Perfection | @fangirlingtodeath513

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 16298 Main Tags/Warnings: Castiel/Dean Winchester,Castiel (Supernatural),Dean Winchester,Sam Winchester,Bobby Singer,Charlie Bradbury,Cain (Supernatural),Alastair (Supernatural),John Winchester,Alternate Universe - Future,Marine Castiel (Supernatural),John Winchester Being an Asshole,Canon-Typical Violence,Human Experimentation,Government Experimentation,Genetic Engineering,Clones,Gun Violence,Shooting Guns,Fugitives,Hacking,Government Conspiracy,Blow Jobs,Come Swallowing,Interrogation,Truth Serum,Needles,Brief Mentions of Torture (Not TFW),Alternate Universe - No Monsters,Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss,Castiel/Dean Winchester First Time,Hand Jobs,Angst with a Happy Ending,Happy Ending,Minor Ellen Harvelle/Bobby Singer,Minor Charlie Bradbury/Jo Harvelle,Minor Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester Summary: For thirty years, Dean’s been in the dark about a bombshell of a family secret. When an AWOL soldier shows up on his doorstep in the middle of the night, he’s shoved into a world he had no idea existed. He never asked to be cloned. He never asked to have his genome edited to make him a super-soldier. He didn’t even know. Now his fate rests in the hands of a ragtag group—Castiel, the AWOL soldier sent as a warning by Sam and Dean’s father; Charlie, an ingenious hacker and Dean’s best friend; and his brother Sam, who’s also being chased by the government for the same reason. Can they pull the rug out from under the military general who’s after their father’s research, or will Sam and Dean be doomed to live the remainder of their lives being experimented on by the military?

He Can't Sleep | @pray4jensen

Rating: Mature Word Count: 18970 Main Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Marriage, Domestic, Case Fic, Angst with a Happy Ending, Summary: He’s done soaping up Cas’ hair. He grabs the sponge at his side and starts to scrub at Cas’ skin, up along his arms, his neck, down his chest. When he runs it up his legs, to his thighs, Cas shudders and then there’s a hand cupping Dean’s cheek, cold and dripping water and soap, and Dean falters, looks at him for the first time. “Will you sleep with me?” Cas says. “Tonight?” Dean swallows. He says yes.

One Last Time | @confusedcasishere

Rating: Mature Word Count: 27370 Main Tags/Warnings: Sex Worker Dean Winchester, Dom/Sub, Dom Castiel/ Sub Dean Winchester, Lawyer Castiel, Top Castiel/ Bottom Dean Winchester, Porn With Plot Summary: After some convincing, Castiel agrees to try out a sex club. He’s nervous and looking for any excuse to back out, until he stumbles across a photo of a beautiful sub with captivating green eyes. Cas has to have him.

Highway to Hell (WIP) | @tucuxia

Rating: Mature Word Count: 31551 Main Tags/Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Castiel/Omega Dean Winchester, Gabriel Has a Crush on Sam Winchester, Alpha Sam Winchester/Omega Gabriel, Alpha Balthazar/Omega Crowley, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Past Abuse, Dean's life hasn't been great, Biker Castiel, Biker Sam Winchester Summary: Castiel, who shares leadership of the Hells Angels biker gang with his two older alpha brothers, finds out that a rival gang has been encroaching on their territory. During a tense meeting with the Devil's Blood gang in Lawrence, KS, he becomes the owner of a scared, broken young omega named Dean. Having forgotten how to speak after a decade under Azazel's cruel ownership, can the young omega learn to trust his new family, and maybe reconnect with the one he lost?

I Choose You (WIP) | @baby-in-a-trenchcoat7

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 43284 Main Tags/Warnings: Fluff, Destiel, Slight Smut, High School Castiel/Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester Summary: High School AU. Castiel Novak has a dirty dream about the captain of the baseball team, Dean Winchester. Dean has a dirty dream about the nerdy Novak boy who hangs around the art room a lot. Castiel becomes Dean’s tutor, and the two soon learn that keeping their relationship platonic is harder than they thought. As their relationship develops, the two have to fight to overcome their problems while doing everything they can to stay together. Rated Explicit for sexual scenes.

Emergence | @ellis-park

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 58862 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon fic, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, amnesia, graphic depictions of violence Summary: Something’s been missing from Dean’s life for the past three years, a void left after a hunt gone terribly wrong. He often feels a sense of longing with no discernible cause, a need to talk to someone who isn’t there. A call from an acquaintance leads Dean to James Novak, a man who disappeared more than a decade ago, and suddenly Dean gets the feeling he’s found what he’s been missing. But James isn’t really James — he’s the angel Castiel, who’s wanted by angels, demons and hunters alike. And he may be at the center of the storm that wrecked Dean’s life all those years ago.

Forbidden Fruit (WIP) | @amyoatmeal

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 95427 Main Tags/Warnings: professor student au, stripper au, age difference, top!castiel/bottom!dean, unrequited castiel/balthazar, unrequited dean winchester/aaron bass, dean winchester & charlie bradbury, threats of noncon/sexual abuse, threats of violence, mentions of past trauma/abuse, angst Summary: Castiel Novak is a respectable, if not a little boring professor at his university. He lives a comfortable, financially stable life with his cat in his modestly-sized apartment. It would appear he has everything he needs, including an over-eager friend and colleague, but when fate tempts him with a seemingly familiar new student by the name of Dean Winchester, Castiel's comfortable life threatens to get turned on its head and things start to get a little juicy.

Stay With Me, Sweetheart | @a-mandala-rose

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 108710 Main Tags/Warnings: Dean/Cas, Dean/Lisa, Past Dean/Others, Past Cas/Others, Kid Fic, Serious Major Character Injury, Car Accident, PTSD/Panic Attacks, House Fires, Past Minor Canonical Character Death, Minor OC Death, Past Emotional Abuse, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Referenced Top Dean/Bottom Cas, Explicit Top Cas/Bottom Dean Summary: “Alright Cas, here comes the hard part. We’re gonna get you out of here, but we’ve gotta take the roof off and while we do that, we’re gonna have to cover you with a sheet to protect you from the glass. I’ll be right here though. I’m not going anywhere.” As he starts to drift away, he suddenly feels the press of Dean’s forehead against his own through the rough fabric and hears that warm, sunlit voice murmer quietly in his ear, too low to be overheard by the firefighters currently working to remove the SUV’s roof, “Stay with me, Sweetheart.” A single moment's distraction ends with a serious car accident that leaves Castiel trapped in his vehicle. Fortunately for him, fire fighter Dean Winchester is there, never leaving Castiel's side as the rest of his company work to free him from the mangled remains of his SUV. When the two meet again in the ICU, Castiel finds himself just as drawn to and comforted by the handsome fireman as he was during his accident. Dean is certainly attractive, but single father Castiel doesn't have time or space in his life for a romantic relationship. Then again, there's no harm in making a new friend, is there?

[3laxx]

Bring It Home - Chapter 7

Kissing someone was not something she had been looking forward to after Luz had died. Just because she was kind of, sort of over her feelings for the human didn’t mean she was ready for any sort of relationship after the trauma that Luz’s death had caused her.

WHat?? More chapters??! It's getting ridiculous what the hell, especially because this one just barely ends before 3k words. WHat the helllllll Anyway have fun with the kissy-kissy chapter!

(Keep in mind these are all not proof read)

Ao3 / FF.net

---

Sauntering up and down in her room, Amity didn’t know how to calm her heart.

Shortly after graduation, she had moved into a house together with Willow and Gus. It wasn’t much, just a small cottage in the outskirts of Bonesborough that her parents happened not to use.

She had repaired the little house together with her friends a lot and they had decided to become housemates as soon as her parents had given them the permission to move in.

The witch, now twenty years of age, had managed to get into the Abominations Coven and was content to work for them besides her other small job, some mercenary work that kept the bills paid and earn her a small income.

But she had recently rediscovered the bucket list that had gotten lost to her during the past few years and found why she had originally kind of brushed it under the rug.

Kissing someone was not something she had been looking forward to after Luz had died. Just because she was kind of, sort of over her feelings for the human didn’t mean she was ready for any sort of relationship after the trauma that Luz’s death had caused her.

Sighing, she fisted her hands into her hair that she was now allowing to grow out. Her brown roots dominated her head once again and only the tips had stayed faintly green. Rubbing over her face, Amity stopped pacing and came to a stop in front of her desk, grumbling when she stared at the piece of paper, the writing on it still glaring at her mockingly.

She wanted to do all these things, and she had never truly forgotten about it, but because she wanted to do all these things in order, she had kind of put the bucket list away for a more convenient time. Groaning, she sat down on the desk and stared at the paper.

Upon finding it, she had added a few more small checks to the filled-out space next to skiing, because her friends and she had actually started enjoying their little getaways to the knee by now and did it regularly, as well as another one behind the Azura book, but the task about kissing someone glared back up to her with a mocking emptiness.

Embarrassedly, she had also discovered that that meant she hadn’t ever kissed someone in all her twenty years.

Well, but she had vowed to do the bucket list her old friend and she had come up with. She owed Luz that much. She had to do it, of course, she had to. Sighing and breathing through, she lowered her hands to the desk and stared at the writing.

Who even could she kiss?

For a fraction of a second, her mind jumped to Boscha, but she quickly shook her head. Boscha was not a good idea and they weren’t that close. Willow or Gus?

It’d be super embarrassing to kiss either of them if she was being honest. While she didn’t see them in the same light as her idiot siblings that she loved very much, she still didn’t romantically see them either.

Someone else?

Grumbling, Amity realized that she didn’t have anyone else. Sure, she still had some contact with her old crew, Skara, Amelia, and Cat, but they were all not close enough for her to knock on their door someday and ask for a kiss.

And she sure as Titan’s asshole wouldn’t ever kiss her siblings or Eda. Sticking out her tongue, she shook her head again, then she sighed and rubbed over her face once more.

She didn’t have anyone she was interested in, anyway. She hadn’t found anyone attractive to her. Ever since Luz, she hadn’t even thought about any romantic involvement. She hadn’t even considered it, not even when her sister and Viney had eloped for fun, only to marry for real some weeks later. Or when Edric had announced that he was in a relationship with an old classmate of his.

Or when Willow had a girlfriend for a short time.

She hadn’t ever thought about it. She didn’t have any interest in that.

All she had wanted, her first and her last crush until now, had been Luz. She hadn’t even known she was supposed to search for other options when Luz had died, because in her mind back then, there had been no room for romantic involvement.

Sighing, Amity leaned back in her chair and shook her head.

How was she supposed to fulfill that task if she didn’t want a relationship?

She hadn’t realized for how long she had already been sitting there when suddenly, she heard a knock on her door and looked up to see Willow entering upon her call.

“Hey Amity, we were thinking of ordering in. Do you want anythi-… Oh.”, her friend immediately recognized the little sheet of paper on her desk and she supposed, if her expression was anything to go by, Willow had already figured out what she was gnawing on.

“Yeah, I know… Uhm, I’ll be downstairs in a minute.”, Amity tried brushing it off, but her friend already came over and rested a hand on her shoulder, leaning down to brush over the worn and used paper, almost falling apart from the years of carrying it around religiously. She smiled when her fingertips brushed over all the checks behind skiing.

“… You thinking about her again?”, she softly asked and Amity nodded, leaning her head against the hand Willow kept on her shoulder.

“Yeah… There are so many things she should’ve done, still.”, Amity mumbled and Willow chuckled, tapping on the last task.

“… That idiot.”, she remembered their friend fondly and Amity snorted, nodding.

“Yeah, that idiot.”

Furrowing her eyebrows, Willow finally turned towards her and leaned against the desk to face her friend.

“Are you still doing these in order?”, she asked, casting a side glance to the bucket list. Amity groaned, nodding. Talking about it wasn’t embarrassing to her, especially not in front of Willow.

“Yeah, but I don’t know who to kiss. Curse my dumb fourteen-year-old brain.”, she chuckled, remembering the reason why she had said that to Luz. Of course, she had wanted to kiss her knuckle-headed human and had hoped she would get the message. As far as she knew, Luz had gotten where Amity had wanted to go but hadn’t wanted to promise her something she couldn’t keep her word on. A small pang of pain went through her heart when she once again imagined Luz lying under the stars, staring up there and talking to her while the blood slowly seeped from her body.

“You don’t have anyone you wanna be with right now?”, Willow asked with a testing gaze and Amity shook her head, rubbing her face.

“After Luz died, I didn’t really feel the need to fall in love again. Or, rather, I just didn’t.”, she truthfully answered and Willow chuckled.

“Hey, you wanna kiss me?”, she suddenly asked and Amity’s eyes shot up at that, while her eyebrows furrowed.

“… What?”

“You heard me.”, Willow shrugged and Amity just gave her a quizzical look, slowly shaking her head.

“I don’t wanna kiss you. I’m not interested in you, romantically.”, she truthfully answered and Willow chuckled, pretending an arrow hit her in her chest.

“Ouch! Why must you hurt me so!”, she laughed and Amity loosened up a little before joining her laughter.

“You’re a goof, Willow. But seriously, I love you as a friend but I wouldn’t want more.”, she finally readjusted herself on her chair, shaking her head, “Please take this seriously?”

Much to her surprise, her friend stopped laughing and she looked up again.

“I’m taking this seriously, Amity. You can kiss me, I won’t mind.”

Rolling her eyes, she looked away from the witch who was leaning on her desk, putting her head in her hands.

“I mean it, Willow, I have no idea who to kiss.”

There was silence for a second before a calloused yet incredibly soft hand pried hers from her face and nudged her to look up, meeting Willow’s earnest face.

“Why does a kiss have to imply romantic interest? Who cares who you kiss? I don’t, and honestly, I’d rather you kissed me than, I don’t know, Gus or Boscha. I don’t want a relationship from you either, so you can trust me not to read anything into a kiss and make you feel uncomfortable.”

Amity pondered over that while she stared at Willow.

Technically, she was right. The bucket list said to kiss someone, not to make a whole relationship out of it. And honestly, Amity would like to kiss someone at least once. Even better if it was someone who she could trust not to read anything into it and make her regret doing it.

Humming, she squeezed Willow’s hand, before nodding.

“Let me think on that offer, okay? For now, let’s order something, I’m actually starving.”, she smiled at her childhood friend, who pulled her to her feet with unsurprising ease – Amity had once tried to join in on Willow’s workout routine and had badly failed – before sighing in relief.

“Good, Gus is probably already in a bad mood.”

It didn’t take long for them to decide where to order their food and prepare for dinner until it arrived. Gus told them about his day at work, the Illusion Coven where he was rising fast, and Willow and Amity teased him a little while eating before they settled for one round of videogames. After that, Amity retreated to her bathroom and brushed her teeth, but Willow’s offer hadn’t really left her mind. Still considering, she spat out the toothpaste, before washing out her mouth and looking at herself in the mirror.

Was she really going to do this?

Wasn’t that cheating of sorts?

Well, Willow and she were both single and friends and Willow was right, a kiss between friends was just as okay. Not every kiss had to result in a relationship.

Furrowing her eyebrows, she breathed through, then she washed her face and changed into her pajamas before exiting the bathroom and knocking on Willow’s door. When she got called in, the familiar slightly humid air enveloped her in what felt like a hug while she entered Willow’s plant-filled room.

There were pots of plants everywhere.

Humming, she rounded the small vertical garden and saw her friend sitting on her desk, just working on her report for the Plants Coven before she looked up.

“Hey Amity, what’s up?”

Rubbing her arm and holding onto her pajama shirt, she breathed through. The air in the room had always soothed and calmed her, maybe due to the humidity, or because of some odors from the plants that had that effect.

“I thought about your offer and, uh, I’d like to try it out?”, she mumbled and Willow shortly furrowed her eyebrows, before nodding in understanding.

“Oh, yeah, sure!”, she got up and sat down on the edge of her bed, patting the space next to her, “Come here, we can do this nice and easy.”

Amity followed her friend and sat down with her. She felt comfortable enough around Willow not to feel awkward or out of place, after all, she spent a lot of time in this room just talking to the other witch or tending to her plants when she was out, so this wasn’t a problem for her. The problem was starting this, somehow.

“I-I just brushed my teeth, too!”, Amity tried to reassure Willow, who laughed.

“If it makes you feel better, I did, too.”, she noticed her fidgeting, so the plant witch placed a hand on hers and caught her gaze, “You don’t have to at all, Amity. It was just a suggestion and this kiss doesn’t mean anything, neither to you or me, okay?”

She nodded slowly, but couldn’t stop the memories of Luz from flashing in her mind. Willow seemed to pick up on her difficulty to relax, so she picked something off her nightstand and snuck it between Amity’s fingers. When she looked down, it was the Grom picture they had taken, Willow’s copy of it.

Luz grinned up to her and she immediately felt at ease, smiling.

“Th-Thanks, Willow…”, she mumbled, before looking back up to her friend who was looking at her with concern.

“Hey, we really don’t have to. But maybe, that’ll finally allow you to move on with the bucket list?”, she suggested and Amity nodded, breathing through.

“I’d like to do this, Willow, I just-… It’s-…”

“Painful?”, her friend helped her out and Amity gave a defeated nod.

“I-… I just-… I miss her. It’s been six years and I still miss her.”, she admitted, pulling up her shoulders. When Willow answered and her voice sounded kind of shaky, Amity looked up.

“We all miss her, Amity.”, she reassured her old friend, before tapping the picture with a small smirk, “I could pin the picture to my forehead if that helps?”

The small joke made Amity laugh, honestly laugh, and she shook her head, still giggling amusedly.

“No, please don’t do that.”, she finally mumbled and Willow chuckled along with her, nodding.

“Okay, I won’t.”, they remained silent for a few moments, before Willow squeezed Amity’s hands which were still holding the Grom picture which was significantly less worn than her own, “Ready?”

Amity looked back up to Willow and nodded, ignoring the slight blurriness in her vision, tears in her eyes.

“Y-Yeah, I think so.”, she confirmed and Willow nodded at her again, which she imitated before her friend lifted one hand to cup her cheek, so softly Amity had to close her eyes and swallow not to sniffle.

Slowly, she felt her leaning in, and with a soft nudge, to which Amity responded with a confirming nod once again, Willow’s lips pressed on hers.

It was a brief kiss, very chaste and innocent, and Amity appreciated Willow’s understanding when she broke away, squinting her eyes tightly. Her hand moved to the back of Amity’s head and she pulled her in to rest against Willow’s shoulder, a warm arm wrapping around her middle while Amity shivered. It had been scary and familiar and she didn’t know how to feel when she hid her face in Willow’s shirt, sniffling. But the tears subsided and Amity found the strength to breathe through, before finding her way back to Willow’s lips, keeping her eyes closed while she – with Willow’s consent – tried another kiss.

This one lasted longer because Amity wanted to know how it felt like, quickly falling into the rhythm Willow gave her, while her hands found their way to her cheeks.

It felt nice, admittedly, and she was glad that Willow offered the kiss. She didn’t want to be thrown into emotional turmoil because of one kiss.

Everything was so Willow around them. It engulfed Amity and made her feel safe, calmed her down, to the point where even her shivering subsided. Everything smelled like fresh soil and watered plants and everything was so calm and collected like her friend.

Breathing through, the girls finally ended their kiss and Amity felt Willow leaning her forehead against hers, keeping her eyes closed, before pulling back and catching her gaze.

All she found was concern and reassurance.

“… You okay?”, Willow asked and for some strange reason, Amity found the answer to be yes. Nothing between them had changed. She almost felt as if this kiss hadn’t even existed when Willow looked at her the same way she always did whenever she was worried for her. Giving her a small smile, Amity nodded.

“Y-Yeah, I think so. Are you okay?”, she gave the question back and Willow nodded, smiling.

“That wasn’t that hard, see?”, she asked and Amity shook her head, a bigger smile creeping on her face, making her giggle. The other girl tilted her head in question and Amity kneaded the hem of her shirt again.

“That was actually kind of nice. Maybe I still do want to have a relationship in the future.”, she giggled and Willow playfully rolled her eyes, while speaking to her in a mocking serious tone.

“Amity, I fear I have to break up with you. This is not working anymore.”, This was definitely a side jab at her for thinking every kiss had to result in a relationship. Pretending to be offended, Amity placed her hands on her chest and gasped.

“What?! I thought what we had was special!”, she indignantly cried and Willow laughed loudly when Amity played along, prompting her to place the back of her hand on her forehead.

“I have to leave you! It can’t be helped! I love someone else!”, she explained wistfully and Amity’s eyebrows immediately shot up.

“Who?!”

The way Willow started blushing immediately revealed that she wasn’t playing anymore. Grabbing her shoulders, Willow got up and pulled her up along with her, talking louder than necessary.

“Nobody! Goodnight!”

Amity laughed and tried resisting her friend but Willow was way stronger than her.

“Nooo, Willow, wait! Who do you like?!”, she tried but her friend shook her head, her face the same color of a tomato she grew by the windowsill by now when she relentlessly pushed her out.

“Nope! Byyyeeee!”, she gave Amity a little wave and then shut the door. Still laughing, Amity pounded against the door.

“Willoooow! Let me back in, I wanna tease you some more!”, she whined between laughter and she could tell her friend was also laughing, while still not budging.

“Nooo, go away!”, she yelled from behind the door and Amity finally gave up, retreating to her room with a big grin.

She would definitely find out who Willow was crushing on.

---

Let me know if you liked it!

[jamesvanriemsdyk]

50 questions ask game

thank u @girouxes for tagging me ily

1. What is the color of your hair brush?

it’s blue and white i think?

2. Name a food you never eat?

im literally not picky at all except with textures so like. i couldnt tell u rn but if i ate something i didnt like youd know immediately

3. Are you typically too warm or too cold?

i am always freezing fucking cold and i love it this way

4. What were you doing 45 minutes ago?

swinging i think

5. Whats your favorite candy bar?

3 musketeers lmao

6. Have you ever been to a professional sports game?

oh god yes lmao like. several. hockey and woso and basketball and baseball too

7. What was the last thing you said out loud?

“he’s just an idiot little rat boy” about remy one of my guinea pigs

8. What is your favorite ice cream?

strawberry cheesecake specifically ben and jerry’s

9. What was the last thing you had to drink?

water

10. Do you like your wallet?\

yeah its fine? i probably need a new one soon tho this one has kinda been through it

11. What was the last thing you ate?

some goldfish

12. Did you buy any new clothes last weekend?

no. god i wish tho. still recovering from the mold thing lmao i have like. nothing

13. What was the last sporting event you watched?

stars vs bolts game 3 but i didnt finish it. game 7 vs the isles was the last one i watched all the way through

14. What is your favorite flavor of popcorn?

salt and light butter lmao

15. Who was the last person you sent a text to?

@pattersonluke

16. Ever go camping?

no actually although we do go to the mountains a lot

17. Do you take your vitamins?

yes because my body needs all the fucking help it can get

18. Do you regularly attend a place of worship?

FUCK NO LMAO I HAVE SO MUCH RELIGIOUS TRAUMA

19. Do you have a tan?

yeah i spent a lot of time outside this summer so im still tan from that

20. Do you prefer Chinese or pizza?

chinese just because theres more variety

21. Do you drink soda through a straw?

no what the fuck

22. What color socks do you usually wear?

i dont usually wear socks but if i am theres literally no consistency

23. Do you ever drive above the speed limit?

oh constantly lol oops

24. What terrifies you?

oh buddy. everything lmao.

25. Look to the left, what do you see?

my nolan jersey and my yellow corner table

26. What chore do you hate doing the most?

the fucking dishes

27. What do you think when you hear an Australian accent?

uh?? steve irwin tbh lmao that man had such an impact on my childhood

28. What’s your favorite soda?

i dont really drink soda? but sprite i guess

29. Do you go in fast food places or just hit the drive thru?

i do mobile orders lmao i dont wanna talk to ANYONE

30. What is your favorite number?

12!!!

31. Who’s the last person you talked to?

like. in person? my father. but over text kait again lmao

32. Favorite cut of beef?

i dont have an opinion on this?

33. Last song you listened too?

currently listening to peace by tswift

34. Last book you read?

red white and royal blue babey

35. Favorite day of the week?

sunday because the vibes are always immaculate. no i will not elaborate

36. Can you say the alphabet backwards?

yeah if i like put thought into it

37. How do you like your coffee?

i dont drink coffee any more lmao but i take my tea unsweetened

38. Favorite pair of shoes?

my sparkly shoes!!!!

39. Time you normally get up?

5am on the fucking dot lmao

40. Do you prefer sunrise or sunset?

sunrise because i like new beginnings

41. Describe your kitchen plates?

theyre like. cream colored with a gray ring around the edge

42. How many blankets on your bed?

including the sheet i have three (sheet, comforter, flyers blanket)

43. Describe your kitchen at the moment?

always messy and always full of dishes to do

44. Do you have a favorite alcoholic drink?

yeah lmao literally any wine or cider. i love fruit

45. Do you play cards?

my plans for the rest of the night are to play solitaire and watch jatp again lmao

46. What color is your car?

“ice blue”

47. Can you change a tire?

in theory lmao

48. Favorite state?

ive only ever lived in delaware lmao but probably pennsylvania for some reason

49. Favorite job you’ve ever had?

the one i have now tbh. i fucking HATE my bosses but i love my coworkers and i love my kids a lot and im super passionate about what i do so

50. Tagging: @softgrantaire @pattersonluke and @farfrombucky

[purplesurveys]

883

1. What kind of textures do you enjoy most in your food? Crunchy, crispy, soft, hard, grainy, slimy, etc? I love chewing on any meal that involves rice. Born and raised with it, can’t feel full without it. I’ll give a special mention to slimy too, because I love seafood.

2. Do you keep up any seasonal decorations outside of their season? No. My mom removes our Christmas decor by late January, which is when Christmas season ends here. We don’t decorate for other holidays.

3. Can you remember the most awkward situation you've ever been in? What happened? Ugh god. Any time I’m left alone with Gab’s dad is bound to be awkward because he’s very quiet and stoic and I tend to be a vibrant, cheery people-pleaser and nothing I do will muster more than two words out of him...but our most awkward moment has to be when I was at their place and he had to leave to run some errands. I stood up and walked over to give him a hug, but for some reason the floor was slippery and I started to do the world’s clumsiest and longest stumble. As an instinct, I held on to his arm and shirt so that I wouldn’t fall flat on my face. It was terrible and nothing I could’ve done or said would’ve saved that situation. EUGH I’m wincing right now lmao

4. Can you remember the most scary situation you've ever been in? What happened? [trigger warning] Would have to be the time when my grandfather got too drunk off his ass that he physically assaulted one of my cousins, then a toddler. My aunt (cousin’s mom) is a little on the delicate and petite side and couldn’t do anything to confront my grandpa, who went on his rage for like 10, 15 minutes. Certainly felt like forever. Nothing has traumatized me more and that’s saying a lot, considering it’s been 13 years and I’ve been through tons of shitty situations.

5. Do you do anything unusual to help you concentrate? It’s not very weird but I did install an extension on my browser that would let me list certain sites (usually social media) I’d want blocked whenever I have work. I suppose not everyone has that kind of program so it kinda counts as unusual.

6. Do you ever wonder what your parents were like as children/teenagers? With my dad, yes. My mom tells me enough stories. I know her family hit a rough patch when she was a teenager and they had to sell a bunch of their stuff, including a grand piano. She went from living a comfortable life to having to skip meals in college because she only had enough money for her daily commute.

7. Do you think suicide is ever "okay?" Groan, this is so triggering. I’m not elaborating on this, soz.

8. Would you rather a close family member/close friend/significant other die of suicide or murder? Why is this? “>> I think having to deal with a murder investigation would be terribly messy and intrusive, and would add more trauma on top of what I’m already dealing with.” < All of this. You don’t always get closure with murders, too. And I would hate that.

9. In your opinion, what is the worst thing someone could ever do? Raping an infant is definitely up there for me.

10. In your opinion, what is the best thing someone could ever do? Be a positive change or impact in someone’s life. Idk, I’m easy to please.

11. Do you think about any fellow xangans outside of xanga? I’ll change the context of this question to Tumblr so I can answer it. And yes I do, sometimes. Not in a creepy way or anything; it usually happens when I encounter something in real life that I know another survey-taker likes.

12. What military installation is the closest to you? Fort Bonifacio.

13. Do you still open your windows during winter? We don’t get winter but yeah, December is the best time to leave the windows open throughout the night. It’s also a great time to be able to save on electricity haha

14. How cold is too cold? How hot is too hot? I’ve lived in a tropical country all my life so I’m a big-ass wimp when it comes to the cold, even though I love it more. I start shivering at around 23ºC. Too hot is anything reaching the 40s.

15. Would you rather lose both legs or both arms? Why? Legs. I use my hands a lot more, so it would be slightly more difficult if I suddenly had to move about without them.

16. If you committed a crime that landed you in prison for the rest of your life, but were given the option to receive the death sentence instead, which would you choose? Why? Death. I get to have the infamous ~last meal~. Lol in all seriousness though, I’d pick it because it would be a quick release for me, I guess. It’s a big reason why I’m not a fan of death penalty...it’s too easy an escape for criminals who deserve a lot worse.

17. Is there any specific album you can listen to in its entirety and enjoy every single song? After Laughter - Paramore

18. Would you rather be a famous movie star, television star, or musician? I don’t have talents that would make me succeed in any of these fields...I guess it’d be fun to be a movie star though.

19. If you are not religious, have you ever eaten dinner with a group of people that were and said grace before eating? How was this for you? If you are religious and say grace before dinner, have you ever eaten dinner with a group of people that weren't and didn't say grace before eating? How was this for you? Yes. I’m from a Catholic family, so we pray before every meal. I do a sign of the cross but barely, just so my mom sees I move my hands when we start the prayer; but I haven’t recited grace since I told myself I was going to be atheist.

20. Do you think an evil Santa or an evil Easter Bunny would make a better villain in a horror movie? I’d go with Evil Santa mostly because I have no attachment to the Easter Bunny whatsoever, and because it’d be hilarious to see a man with reindeer be mean.

21. Did you ever think any fictional story-book character was creepy as a child? Do you still think any of them are creepy? Yes. That girl who wears a ribbon around her neck still gives me the fucking creeps.

22. Would you rather wear nothing but white or nothing but black? Is there any color you'd actually want to wear head-to-toe? Black. I’ve done that many times, so it wouldn’t feel weird.

23. What physical/mental health problems run in your family? Do you have any of the same problems? I’m almost certain there are underlying issues on my mom’s side but seeing as none of us have ever gotten ourselves checked (and most of them don’t believe in mental health problems anyway) I doubt I’ll ever find out what exactly’s wrong.

24. What is your mental and physical health like right now? They are both doing surprisingly well considering how long I’ve had to stay home and how much everything has turned upside down. I’ve only had two bad breakdown in four months and I’ve since recovered from that nasty fever I got, so I can’t complain.

25. If you found a suitcase (with no information about the owner) with a million dollars inside of it , would you turn it into the police or keep it? Be honest. ;] “>> See, a million dollars is an exorbitant sum. There is no way I could just casually make off with a missing million and not suffer repercussions. It's just too much goddamn money, and in this particular scenario, it's highly likely that it's a trap of some sort (whether set for me, or set for someone else and my dumb ass just happened to stumble across it). I'm not dumb enough to try it.

Neither would I necessarily want to turn it in, because that might cause me to get involved in something I didn't want or need to be involved in. The most logical course of action for me would be to leave it the fuck alone.” < Yeup.

26. Would you rather gaze at the stars or clouds? Stars. The fact that they’re so much farther away makes them more fascinating to me.

27. Are they any foods you used to enjoy but no longer like? Are there any foods you used to dislike but now enjoy? There’s a certain brand of frozen sisig that I used to looooove and would have multiple servings of every time I had it. But I had it one too many times and now I can’t even stand the smell of it. On the other hand, I hated chicken curry as a kid, but I can’t get enough of it now.

28. Do you feel much older or younger than you are? Why? Neither. I just feel 22.

29. Did you get along with kids that were older or younger than you? I mostly got along with kids of the same age. I found younger kids too rowdy and being around older kids always felt intimidating.

30. Do you know any magic tricks? Nopes.

31. How much would life suck for you if you had a wheat allergy? A lot.

32. Are you able to watch gory scenes in movies? Why or why not? For sure. I always want to see how far FX artists can go; and if used correctly, gory scenes can be super integral to the movie. Midsommar is a really good example.

33. Do you constantly check the time? Does time seem to move quickly or slowly for you? Not anymore. I used to check it a lot while I was still in school. Sigh, I miss that life so much. Anyway, time definitely felt slower during the first few weeks of the lockdown, but now that I’m used to it days just fly by. I can hardly believe we’re nearly in the middle of July. So much of this year has been wasted. It’s miserable.

34. Would you rather live in a nice house in a bad location, or a less-than-nice house in a great location? I’m taking the great location. I don’t know if I can last living in a shady area, no matter how beautiful my house is.

35. Have you ever been a witness to a horrible crime? What happened? Domestic violence is the worst thing I can think of. I enumerated one of them in one of the earlier questions, but I witnessed several other cases as a kid.

[todokiis]

50 Questions You’ve Never Been Asked

Tagged by @citrusveins ✨🌟:) thanks for the tag citrus!

1. What is the color of your hairbrush?:

It’s got that like duo chrome/oil slick paint on it. I don’t know how else to describe it?

2. Name a food you never eat?:

Hm, Steak. Honestly most meat I prefer to stay away from. I’m not like officially vegetarian but I’ve never really enjoyed meat that much.

3. Are you typically too warm or too cold?:

Too cold! I have a space heater in my room and I bring a jacket with me everywhere cause I’m always freezing.

4. What were you doing 45 minutes ago?:

I was on a conference call with my boss discussing some t-shirt designs I’m working on.

5. What is your favorite candy bar?:

Hershey’s chocolate bar with almonds in it. <3 I slap that baby between two nature valley bars and BAM, you got yourself a vending machine smore.

6. Have you ever been to a professional sports event?:

No lmao. But I did enjoy going to all the football games in high school if that counts for anything.

7. What is the last thing you said out loud?:

“Okay, sure.” (Visiting my parents and my mother asked if I could check their mail)

8. What is your favorite ice cream?:

LEMON. And in a waffle cone to be precise. But if that isn’t an option I will take any kind of coffee flavor.

9. What was the last thing you had to drink?:

Coffee. Still working through the cup I poured this morning.

10. Do you like your wallet?:

Yes. It’s shaped like a rainbow and it’s pastel but kinda clear and v cute if I do say so myself. 🌈

11. What was the last thing you ate?:

Some of my leftover lemon birthday cake. I really like lemon if you haven’t picked up on that lmao.

12. Did you buy any new clothes last weekend?:

Nah, but I did buy wall decor for my bedroom.

13. The last sporting event you watched?:

Probably... the Super Bowl like a year or two ago... maybe?

14. What is your favorite flavor of popcorn?:

White cheddar but I usually don’t eat it just cause the texture kinda bothers me.

15. Who is the last person you sent a text message to?:

My coworker. It was in response to a rupaul gif she sent to our work gc.

16. Ever go camping?:

Embarrassingly enough I think I have to admit that I’m a bit too high maintenance for camping. I love nature though! But if I can’t stay in like a cabin or RV then it’s not really for me. ☠️

17. Do you take vitamins?:

Yes. It takes forever to get through them all in the morning.

18. Do you go to church every Sunday?:

Nope. Had enough religious trauma the first 17 years of my life, don’t plan on revisiting that experience lmao.

19. Do you have a tan?:

NO BUT I USED TO DAMMIT. But, I chose the life of someone who works inside all day. 😪

20. Do you prefer Chinese food or pizza?:

ChineseFoodChineseFoodChineseFoodChineseFoodChineseF- 🥡🥢

21. Do you drink your soda with a straw?:

I don’t really drink soda but every now and then I say fuck it and have a coke if I need to pull an all-nighter or something.

22. What color socks do you usually wear?:

Black.

23. Do you ever drive above the speed limit?:

Only when I’m on the highways cause I travel back and forth between two cities a lot. That drive is so exhausting so sometime I push the limit when there aren’t a lot of cars around.

24. What terrifies you?:

Public speaking for like serious events. Straight up passed out a few times. But if it’s for fun stuff or casual presentations it’s not too bad.

25. Look to your left, what do you see?:

Pillows. I’m laying in bed while I answer these.

26. What chore do you hate?:

Laundry D; I don’t like how long it takes to fold everything and put it away!

27. What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent?:

Americans who love to do terrible Australian accents lmao.

28. What’s your favorite soda?:

Coke. Don’t drink it very often though.

29. Do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive-thrus?:

Drive thru only. I got things to do, hennie.

30. Who’s the last person you talked to?:

My dad.

31. Favorite cut of beef?:

None. I don’t like beef. 🤢

32. Last song you listened to?:

Beast by Mia Martina

33. Last book you read?:

Some book on ancient Andean art for the art history class I finished like a week ago.

34. Favorite day of the week?:

Friday! Friday afternoons when I’m free from work feel so so good :,)

35. Can you say the alphabet backwards?:

It would take me so unbearably long.

36. How do you like your coffee?:

Strong, and preferably iced. More on the bitter side than the sweet side.

37. Favorite pair of shoes?:

My white adidas 80s Continentals. I am a slut for adidas sneakers OTL.

38. The time you normally go to sleep?:

Usually 2 A.M. or somewhere around that.

39. The time you normally get up?:

I get up at about 8 or 9 AM but I don’t usually get out of bed until like 10:30 or 11. I am trash, I know.

40. What do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets?:

It’s hard to choose but probably sunsets. Watching the sun set over the water and the clouds get all pink and purple and the sand looking all glowy... ugh I love it.

41. How many blankets on your bed?:

Two ✌🏼.

42. Describe your kitchen plates:

All black. That’s it. Lmao

43. Do you have a favorite alcoholic beverage?:

I don’t really drink but lemon drops if I’m out at a bar. (piña-coladas on the beach fucking SLAP tho so maybe that.)

44. Do you play cards?:

I used to all the time but it’s been years.

45. What color is your car?:

Gold and I hate it. I refuse to acknowledge that thing as my car.

46. Can you change a tire?:

No... & I didn’t come here to get shamed ☠️

47. Your favorite province?:

I am from the U.S. so I’m just gonna... skip this one I guess lol

48. Favorite job you’ve ever had?:

My current job as a Graphic designer.

49. How did you get your biggest scar?:

Fell on concrete at recess as a kid and busted up most of my left knee pretty bad.

50. What did you do today that made someone else happy?:

Hm... made my bosses and my coworker laugh in our skype call with my general tom foolery I guess. But I’ll probably spam my best friend some dumb tiktoks later that I know will make her laugh.

Hm, I think I’ll tag the last few peeps from my notes ✨ feel free to do this if you’d like. No pressure though! 💛 @icychill @eloquentdreams @tobiodel-ay-ee-hoo and anyone else who sees this and wants to participate!!

[disabledbears]

50 Questions You’ve Never Been Asked

Tagged by @yuiaka

1. What is the color of your hairbrush?: Red

2. Name a food you never eat?: Broccoli and tomatoes

3. Are you typically too warm or too cold?: Too warm but my feet are always always cold no matter what

4. What were you doing 45 minutes ago?: Prob eating lunch

5. What is your favorite candy bar?: Pätkis (A Finnish mint chocolate)

6. Have you ever been to a professional sports event?: Been to hockey match once or twice

7. What is the last thing you said out loud?: Something abt childhood “trauma” abt when I watched Tintin when I was young (The Pharaoh episode scared me when the professor just vanished & Tintin got locked inside a tomb)

8. What is your favorite ice cream?: Mint chocolate and caramel

9. What was the last thing you had to drink?: water

10. Do you like your wallet?: Yup! It’s cute pink & I wish I could get a picture of my fav fictional character inside

11. What was the last thing you ate?: A chicken bits w noodles

12. Did you buy any new clothes last weekend?: YES I bought new OP which has Aristocats’ Marie in print

13. The last sporting event you watched?: I don’t watch these lol but I guess I saw last bits and pieces of skiing event

14. What is your favorite flavor of popcorn?: Normal one

15. Who is the last person you sent a text message to?: My stepdad

16. Ever go camping?: Nah

17. Do you take vitamins?: Nope

18. Do you go to church every Sunday?: No,im not religious

19. Do you have a tan?: Nope

20. Do you prefer Chinese food or pizza?: Pizza

21. Do you drink your soda with a straw?: Only when I'm at a restaurant or a pizza place etc.

22. What color socks do you usually wear?: Uhh pink or blue or multicolor

23. Do you ever drive above the speed limit?: I don't have a driver's license lol

24. What terrifies you?: Bees, Zombies, Unknown...

25. Look to your left, what do you see?: A lot of shit on my nightstand, like books, my tarot cards, my water bottle..

26. What chore do you hate?: Washing clothes

27. What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent?: It’s amusing I guess? It’s nice how there are so many accents

28. What’s your favorite soda?: Coca cola

29. Do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive-thrus?: Go in a fast food place

30. Who’s the last person you talked to?: my teacher

31. Favorite cut of beef?: ummm... no idea, I don't know these types of things even in Finnish

32. Last song you listened to?: Tintin intro

33. Last book you read?: Must’ve been Jane Austen’s Emma

34. Favorite day of the week?: Friday but I like Tuesdays too

35. Can you say the alphabet backwards?: Maybe? I don’t bother

36. How do you like your coffee?: I don’t drink coffee, yuck

37. Favorite pair of shoes?: My bright pink sneakers

38. The time you normally go to sleep?: Around 23.30

39. The time you normally get up?: Currently 8:30

40. What do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets?: Sunsets

41. How many blankets on your bed?: 4

42. Describe your kitchen plates: Light blue edges and white inside

43. Do you have a favorite alcoholic beverage?: I don't drink alcohol

44. Do you play cards?: UNO better count

45. What color is your car?: I don't have a car, but my mom’s car is black

46. Can you change a tire?: Haha, no

47. Your favorite province?: What's a province anyway? Is it England thing?  I'm from Finland

48. Favorite job you’ve ever had?: Haven’t got one, mayybe that one time I was helping out local library

49. How did you get your biggest scar?: I have large scar across my left ribcage from heart surgery when I was born

50. What did you do today that made someone else happy?: Oh dear nothing today I think? I usually try to make someone happy every day though

[soul-music-is-life]

I've seen some of your post on the bullshit heartbeat bill in your state and I'm just wondering how you're dealing.

I have stared at this ask for a while, wondering whether or not I wanted to get in depth into this conversation. But I do have a lot to say on the matter. A while back I drafted a blog post that I toyed with sharing, but ultimately held off. Until now.

There’s…a lot to be covered.

First, thank you for sparking me to put this out there. I feel as though it’s important enough to say what I have to say on this. And though this platform is usually used for fandom stuff (I use other platforms for my political stuff), I’m not afraid to get real now and again.

Second, let me state that I have a background in medicine and a family heavily involved and working in politics…so I know how this goes.

I’m going to pre-empt this by saying that I am not going to argue with anyone who is pro-life who reads and disagrees. If you agree, great. If you disagree, there is no point in trying to fight me…because we will never see eye to eye.

This is strictly an argument based on why I’m against politics and religion in medicine. I am not looking for a debate here. There is no debate to be had. If you can’t look at things without religion, or if you can’t understand scientific/medical facts it’s a moot point.

It’s a long one. Saddle up.

Religion vs. Medicine:

Christianity should have no place in medicine (the bible condemns polyester blends, playing with pigskin, gambling, and divorce, but Christians still shop til they drop, support football, play the lottery, and divorce their spouses). Yet we get lawmakers constantly using the bible as a talking point (”Thank God” and “As God intended”) for this argument and ignoring testimony from physicians with degrees in science.

Men (with the exception of those whose sperm fertilized an egg in a consensual act) should have no say in what happens inside of a uterus that does not belong to them (and even then, it should be a discussion between those two people and their doctor, not a government made up of religious zealot white women and white-boys without uteri).

The government should not infringe upon individual rights of medical privacy via HIPAA.

Basically:

If you can not argue without the basis of religion (or you keep using “God” or The Bible as your baseline) or if you are not someone who has a uterus or in the medical profession or a woke dude/lady, you have no fucking say.

If you are a Christian forcing your beliefs upon the population based upon a magical book that has absolutely no proof, you have no fucking say. (see Separation of Church and State).

If you are a politician forcing your agenda upon every person with a uterus based upon something you can absolutely never experience, you have no fucking say.

If you do not have a background in science and you’re basing your opinions upon a movie (”Unplanned”) that is nothing more than political propaganda (and a pro-life “advocate” who saw dollar signs and a means to fame) then you have no fucking say (and yes, I’ve seen the film, which was nothing more than a religious backed, over-dramatized flick poorly representing abortions and relied heavily upon cheap emotional manipulation and inaccurate CGI). As someone who has seen medical procedures…it was exaggerated in the film. It is absolutely not a representation of safe and legal abortions. It also does not address the confidentiality between patient/doctor (See HIPAA and the testimony of physicians in this matter).

The fact of the matter is that people who are informed, intelligent, and know about the subject in depth are against these abortion bans, because they know it’s extreme and infringes upon basic rights. This includes women, our allies, and in some cases…people who are religiouswho stand with the pro-choice movement (I see you all, too, don’t doubt that…this is not a reflection upon men and Christians in general. This is about the extremists).

If you fall into the extreme religious or non-medical community category or you are a politician with no medical training and you’re writing bills and arguing against basic human rights…you can shut the fuck up.

***

For the sake of facts, let’s break it down:

-Sexual education can be informative, and the preventatives used to prevent pregnancy can fail. Condoms break. The pill can fail (and let’s not even get into the horrible side effects that contraceptives have on women. Let’s talk about the fact that there was actually a birth control for men that companies tried to put on the market, but the side effects were too ‘dangerous’. Sure, like high blood pressure and hormonal imbalances are something women look forward to). But yeah, let’s put all the responsibility on the woman.

-Women are raped, and given the trauma that occurs…they should not have to PROVE they were raped in order to receive medical treatment…including abortion. It’s horrific enough as it is, and there is NO wrong way to deal with the trauma. They shouldn’t have an additional stigma to be treated medically.

-Women who tend to make the choice to have an abortion have looked at their options and have made an informed CHOICE (that’s what this is about). And it’s not always at the 6-8 week mark, because hey…there are things such as irregular periods. Cis-men hating on women, let’s talk about women’s reproduction for a minute. Have you ever spent 7 days bleeding out of an orifice of your body? Have you ever shed the lining of an internal organ? Have you ever had blood clots inside of your body that feel like fucking death? Have you ever had your panties soaked in blood? Have you ever gotten stressed and missed a period or had medical issues that caused you to have irregular cycles? No? Okay, so how about the stressors of pregnancy? How about the changes a woman’s body goes through? How about the emotional and physical toll it takes? Truth is, hetero-normal men who are so deep-set in their beliefs will NEVER view women as equal. Reality is…we women areintelligent enough to make our own decisions.

-An embryo at 6-8 weeks is not viable. The so called “heartbeat” is an electrical activity in a group of cells that is at maximum a few inches long. There is no heartbeat, because there IS no heart. It hasn’t formed. There is not a cardiovascular system. It’s a vibration in a cell. It is ONLY active because of the woman. At this point it is NOT a child. I see pro-life/pro-birth people going, “but…but SCIENCE…Life at conception!” without understanding the depth of their actual words. The medical community knows their shit. And people can challenge them all they want with their opinions upon when life is sentient, but the truth is that there is no brain activity this early because IT IS NOT A HUMAN. It is an embryo, which can not exist without the mother’s body. Yet politicians use the term “heartbeat” because they know there are uneducated people out there who will eat it up and back them.

-Abortion is situational, and trying to force a law upon women based upon the preconceived notion that ALL women are using it as a form of birth control is ignorant, ill-informed, and extremely sanctimonious. There are numerous reasons for abortion, and none of them are the government’s fucking business.

Why religion and politics is a slippery slope in medicine:

Using a religious bias in a political war is against everything in the judiciary and legislative branch, and it is a slippery slope that is dangerous to patient care. When we start listening to “Gods” and evangelical people over actual physicians there is a huge problem. Ask yourself this question: if you were dying and a surgery could save your life…would you call a priest to perform the procedure? Or a licensed physician? If you choose a priest, enjoy seeing your version of the afterlife, because you’re going to die.

Abby Johnson (”Unplanned) is not a doctor. She is someone who “found God” and is using that to exploit the situation with her own views as a claim to fame. She ran a Planned Parenthood (in her own words). ONE chapter, which means it’s a FRACTION of the actual unit. She does not have a PHD. Her accusations against physicians are bullshit and is frankly an insult to actual doctors who perform safe medical procedures every day.

Politicians have no knowledge of medical protocols and treatments (and in a lot of cases know an embarrassingly low amount about women’s reproductive organs). And in many cases it is old white men (and religious white women) dictating what a woman can do with her body. If you think that’s okay, you’re part of the problem.

Religious zealots hold fast to beliefs written in a fairytale rather than learn the scientific facts associated with the base of their argument. They can’t grasp the concept that an organism can be created in a petrie dish with a “beating heart”, because of muscle contractions, not because it’s “alive” or “sentient”. They would rather blindly follow a God that may or may not exist rather than listen to educated physicians who know the topic.

Rapid fire question: if an unconscious woman and a frozen embryo were in a burning building and you could only save one of them, which one would you choose? Something that is not aware and is only a potential for life? Or the actual living breathing human?

This shit is not about “saving babies”. Politicians couldn’t give a shit about babies after they are born. It’s about controlling women/trans-folk and telling people what they can do with their body (it’s funny how Republican politicans haven’t outlawed smoking or drinking, because hey…that kills you! “AnD wE aRE PRo-LiFE!”).

Anyone who can’t see that all these abortion laws are just plays for politicians to pursue their own political pursuits is an idiot.

A Note about Georgia’s Abortion Law/Kemp

In my state, there was talks that Kemp was overheard saying that even if he wanted to veto the bill he couldn’t due to “his campaign promises”. Which is absolute bullshit, because given the polls…he knew that a majority of the people in his state are against it. This bill was co-sponsored by three men and three women who are basing it heavily upon religious purposes (if you don’t believe me, look up Ed Setzler, he’s been quoted several times leaning on religious propaganda for this bill). It was then voted through by a bunch of old white men.

Convenient how they threw the one token woman up front (but honestly, fuck her…because she should know better). The fact of the matter is that those who voted on this are a bunch of “good ole boys” with religious principles trying to bypass the fact that there is a separation of church and state. This bill has had numerous polls conducted to the constituents, and while they were divided…the PRO-CHOICE voice won every single poll. Put this up for a vote and I guarantee this would not become a law.

Kemp waited weeks to sign this (unlike the governor of Alabama).

Why?

Because he knew that most of his constituents were against this (given the polls that were conducted), but due to political pressure he couldn’t veto for fear that he’d lose the religious/deeply rooted republican votes. Even Kemp seemed to realize that this is against the moral rights of his citizens. But he doesn’t give a shit. Because as long as his pockets are lined with money and he can ignore his constituents, it’s all gravy for him.

To take this a step further, this asshole is the man who pointed a gun at a kid jokingly in an age where school shootings are rampant, as a joke…for political purposes. Cuz, ya know…violence is funny.

He’s “pro-life” but he shoots things.

This man is sponsored by the National Hunting and Fishing association, who supports killing living breathing things with a heartbeat for sport or “because it tastes good”.

I challenge anyone who is so “pro-heartbeat” to never shoot their guns again to kill something. Because hey, life is so precious to you, right? You value heartbeats so effing much, stop killing living breathing things. Nut up or shut up.

Actually, no, don’t nut up. That’s the reason for unplanned pregnancies in the first place. Just shut up.

…that will never happen. And you want to know why?

Because this is not about life. They don’t give a shit about “life”. This is about power. This is about control.

If you can’t see that an entire gender is being used for political gain then you need to wake the fuck up.

I’ll end this by saying that, yes, there might be some common ground that can be found here. In the people out there fighting every day for their rights. In the allies we have coming out of the woodworks. In the physicians who fought like hell for us in court.

I’m not an unreasonable person. I do believe in sensible laws. These bans are not sensible. They’re a power play. And that’s fucked up. And as much as I’d love to pack up and leave, I don’t have that option. A lot of people don’t (and in fact, I think the “Boycott GA” movement is so fucking stupid, because that doesn’t hurt the people in power. It hurts the PEOPLE).

So if you’re pissed off, remember this at the polls. Know who your reps are. And if they are for this bullshit, vote their asses out.

Flip their fucking seats.

I’m tired, you guys. Let’s get our rights back. Let’s take our state back.

[figjelly]

The 2018 Rumination Spectacular

It’s a long post. It’s gonna be triggering. Blacklist “ash 2018″ and “long post.” Sorry mobile users. Here’s a picture. Use this as a warning that you should blacklist those tags NOW if you don’t wanna read:

For about a week, I’ve wondered how to start this post. How to finish it. What to put in the middle. It’s really a shame, being depressed and anxious and all sorts of other things but maintaining a high self-esteem. It’s not like I want to. My mind and my brain and my body refuse to let me just be. They constantly remind me I have to be center stage, the best, to be adored. Let’s be honest. I don’t have high self-esteem. I have an obsessive, insatiable desire for love because I was born to abusive people. I was raised by more abusive people. I’ve continued to place my trust and well-being in abusive people. And then, when things fall spectacularly apart, I blame myself. I blame my body. I blame my brain. I blame my mind. A lot has happened this year. A big thing: the realization that I desperately crave others to want me. I want to feel loved and valuable and interesting and just wanted. And, I guess, that’s what school gave me. I left my PhD program in May 2017 and it’s taken almost two years to realize I didn’t stay in school or move into higher education because I had a burning passion (okay, I mean, I do still have a passion for my work but it wasn’t the foundation). The American education system gave an abused child something slightly better than I had: praise and positive feedback for jumping hoops. My home life twenty years ago? There was no rhyme or reason to which behaviors would yield which result. School? College? Grad school? Let’s face it. I’m white. At the time I was identifying as straight and female. I was going into STEM. Perform well, earn As, be friendly. Rules rules rules. Two weeks ago, I finally told my therapist of almost five years how my first sexual experience was a doctor raping me. It’s really funny. Hilarious actually how it’s taken thirty-one years to feel like I am my own person. Because before the doctor, there’d been my step-father (”It isn’t really enough to do anything with,” the police had told me when I was sixteen at my then therapist’s office). There’d been the high school boyfriend (”My dad was in the marines. I inherited his anger management problems.”). But there was also my mom. My grandmother who isn’t my grandmother but she “adopted” my mom as her daughter. They met online on a forum for Forever Knight, a 90s Canadian supernatural romance crime show about a woman who has a vampire for a partner. It’s really hard, yanno, to be gentle with myself. Don’t be angry.

So, 2018 was a year of me working on this. I’m still working. I’m angry at everything nowadays. There’s no good resolution to it other than to sit with it. I don’t understand how people can say, “Let anger go,” like I intentionally hold onto it. This anger and pain and trauma is carved into my bones and it gets carried through like oxygen in my bloodstream. Whenever I think about this anger at myself, the regret and the hurt, the left side of my left arm hurts. It starts about the middle of my forearm and goes to my pinky. Asking when this started isn’t a useful question. I’m angry because I let myself be used and hurt by people. I’m angry because I ignored my own needs and wants. I’m angry because now I’m thirty-one and it feels like my life is over. I made a lot of decisions and they were all made for the benefit of others. “Be your own person,” only works when you’ve got a person who isn’t desperate for love. I’m angry because I feel like I’ve wasted my life worrying about other people. Yes, yes. I’m not old. Don’t bother telling me. You don’t pay my bills. You can tell me what I feel when you give me money--substantial amounts of it. In 2005, I gave my step-father $1500. I’ve been working at the local Dairy Queen for years, saving money religiously because I was desperate to get a car, drive, gain independence. My parents told me the insurance was too expensive. My step-dad was the only driver because my mom has MS. It would probably never happen, but just in case. I should save, just in case. I gave my step-father money because he said, “The van needs fixed. Without it, you know your mom can’t get to the hospital.” I can’t remember any night between the ages of 15-17 when the police of the EMTs weren’t at my house. All of my homework was usually left abandoned in red and blue lights. I’d get back to it at midnight. Nothing mattered to my teachers except that I made As. At this point, I don’t know where blame lies but it seems pretty solid that I get stuck with the anger. 2018 was the year I realized that I don’t know how to have friends, how to keep a job, how to think about a career. 2018 was the year I realized that I have to make peace with living in poverty again. I was doing so well. Grad school was the best my finances had ever been. Until December 2013. I tried to kill myself. It’s old news. I was in the hospital. They forgot about me and I ended up spending three more days than needed. PROTIP: don’t try killing yourself during the holidays. Everyone will just tell you the holidays are rough for everyone. And finals. Mid-December is the time for students to also feel the pressure. If you’re neither of these, good luck. I took out massive amounts of student loans to go back to school. To pay my hospital bills. I was so desperate to get back into school because it was the only place that made sense. 2018 was the year I decided to change my name, my gender. I’m learning how to live in my body. It’s taken thirty-one years, but I’ve come to the realization it was mine. For six years, I took meds that made me weigh over 200 lbs all for the benefit of the high school boyfriend. For five years I starved myself because I wanted everyone to see what a successful PhD student I was. My body has never been mine before. This is a new thing for me. 2018? It started off with hope. There was less hope for most of it. I think it’s ending with hope. I hope it is.

My mom refuses to stop calling me. Five years ago, I stopped answering her calls. I begged her to stop. I was polite. I was rude. I was angry. I was at peace. I’ve tried everything. Her contacting me isn’t about me, it’s about her. It’s about what she wants. in December of 2013, I tried to kill myself.

It’s so old news, my mom told my partner when he called her, “Oh. Well, let me know when everything’s okay.” In 2009 I was admitted into the hospital for exhaustion. I’d had a breakdown in college. I was told to try yoga. Meditation. I was told it was just test anxiety. All I’ve ever desperately wanted was to be the priority.

And I bent for other people. I broke myself and put myself back together in ways other people would find pleasing. I bend and I break and now my body hurts. Chronically. In 2016 I was in a car accident. My partner has told me most of this story. I remember almost nothing. I spent two months locked up in my house with a concussion. More debt. More weight gained. My partner tells me at one point the doctors kept poking and prodding my feet. He tells me that I wasn’t responding and that my legs weren’t moving. He was horrified that the accident had left me paraplegic. I don’t remember any of this. The doctors eventually told him it was just shock. My body overloaded with too much too fast. And not enough neuron action, I guess. Too much, not enough. I discovered yesterday that Jack Kerouac said something similar. I’ve never read anything by him. Must be a common human feeling. Everything is too much. Everything is not enough. 2018 is right now still and I’m still working on reshaping myself for myself and not for others. 1987 was right then and thirty days before it ended, I came at the last minute. I’ve spent my entire life trying to make sure I was early to make a good impression. Now, I arrive when I arrive. I live in the land of -ish. Work hasn’t yelled at me. Yet. 2018: I started drawing again. I started writing again. I am trying not to feel like I’m too old. I’m working. I’m trying. I’m doing. I’m poor. I feel like my college degree warrants me not that but que was que is. I obsessively think about contacting my mom. No matter the meds, I have to count 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 every time I lock the door to the comic book shop where I work. If I don’t, the door isn’t locked. I’ve never had wide hips but I’ve always had thick thighs. My butt has always been big. My culture rather I’d accept my fate as a woman, bend myself and break myself to be one. They don’t belong to me. My thighs eat anything that comes between them. I wish I was being literal. I wish my thighs had eaten other people’s hands and other body parts. Vagina dentata is too late for my tastes. I want my thighs to reflexively snap like a bear trap and break someone’s neck. But I have a hard enough time finding clothes I can live with. I’m wearing the pants of Theseus right now. I’m tired of sewing patches into the holes my thighs keep eating. 2018 and I’m wondering if I will ever stop hurting. But it’s 2018 and I know I’m a better me than I’ve ever been before. And right now, that’s enough.

[whitneyrmcguireblog]

On Black Breastfeeding Week

By Whitney McGuire

It’s Black Breastfeeding Week according to Instagram and I’m sad. I don’t want to waste time describing the sadness, and maybe that’s not even the right word to describe how I feel, but tears are welling up in my eyes and my heart aches a bit.  I’m a black woman. I had a baby 4 months ago. I am not breastfeeding.

I don’t have time to entertain judgments, even those cloaked in support. And trust me, there are a lot. I’ve already lashed out on a woman for communicating the assumption that I stopped breastfeeding due to cosmetic reasons. Now that I think about it, I’m like, “so what if it was?” I only have time to be present - to see that my first child, who’s somewhat traumatic entry into this world (for me) revealed parts of myself of which I wholeheartedly am in awe. 

Presently, I see flashbacks of endless pregnancy nausea (worse than morning sickness. I had that too.) and breastfeeding classes at my midwife’s office. The joyful expectation that I will be a great mother who breastfeeds her child for at least a year. A. Great. Mother. I learned latching techniques, different hold positions to make for a comfortable feed for me and baby, and an understanding that every woman can and should breastfeed her child. “Was my former co-worker actually hyperbolizing when she said she couldn’t produce breastmilk for both of her children as she broke down in the break room every other day?” I faded out of my inner questioning and listened to statistics being tossed at me from the breastfeeding counselor making it patently clear that the act by omission -- not breastfeeding your child -- is basically considered child abuse. It didn’t take long for my instagram explore page algorithm to catch up , depicting images of pregnant women, or women with young children, happy and glowing. I knew not to click on those images. I am pretty cognizant of strengthening my muscle not to compare. But sometimes I skipped my workouts. Sometimes those images brought me to profiles that inevitably revealed a woman with one or both breasts exposed and the back of a baby’s head cradled lovingly, happily sucking away. Images like this made me feel warm and proud. Like I was about to join a sisterhood of like-minded, revolutionary, strong women championing the normalization of breastfeeding. A few looked like me. Many didn’t.

After giving birth, a lactation consultant visited me the day before I was discharged from my 7-day stay. She sat on the foot of my hospital bed. I sat in a recliner nursing my new child. He was very small. He decided to come four weeks early. The consultant quizzed me. “Do you know why breastfeeding is so important?” I listed stats I’d memorized from my breastfeeding class and hours of prior research on the topic. I wanted to be a GREAT mom. I had already delivered via emergency c-section and was repeatedly reminded how dangerously high my blood pressure was due to preeclampsia. I already wasn’t starting this motherhood journey the way I’d hoped. So, I didn’t want to fuck this quiz up.  She affirmed the correctness of my answers and gave me a warm smile and nod. I took that to mean that she agreed with me. I was going to be a great mom.

By the second week of my son’s life earthside, I had one nipple that was chaffed, sore, bleeding occasionally. Yes. I used the organic nipple balm. The other nipple was functioning but was unfortunately attached to the less milk abundant breast. My son began to fuss. Loudly. His entire body stiff, arms splayed open in frustration. Until this point, his latch had been great. Something changed, however. Now, he kicked aggressively and cried abundant tears when my nipple made contact with his mouth. He was not eating enough. I researched why this could be. I tried different holds, pumping even the sore nipple with tears of agony welling up in my eyes to try to produce more milk to freeze for future bottle feedings. I wanted to be prepared to give myself time to heal when/if this happened again. Pumping on a chaffed nipple was what I’d hoped was peak “this sucks,” for me. They tell you pumping more will help you produce more milk. I’ve heard many testimonials to this truth and a few to the contrary. For me, pumping only produced more tears. My nipple eventually healed after I began using a plastic nipple guard my friend, also a new mother, purchased for me. Feedings became easier. Finally, I felt like one of those moms I admired. Some I knew. Others I didn’t. Moms who look like they take time and energy to be patient loving attentive moms. My son enjoyed the nipple guard too.

One month after my baby’s birthday, I sat on the stoop of our brownstone Apartment cradling him prepared to finally breastfeed outside of my home or the pediatrician’s office/ ob/gyn clinic. It was a hot day. We didn't have air conditioning. I was proud to possibly perform what I considered an amazing phenomenon of the human body, in public. I wanted to look anyone in the eye who passed and glanced in my direction during this sacred, beautiful act. I was ready to make my activism seen...known.  I wanted to challenge any glances contrary to approval. Proud. Stern. Stately. I am proudly a black woman. I was also proudly a breastfeeding woman -- just with a nipple guard. Eventually it was time to feed my baby.  I realized I left the nipple guard upstairs, so I took out one of my breasts and attempted to put my bare nipple in my baby’s mouth. He hollered and protested. A foiled attempt however, not the final one. 

Two weeks later the kicking and screaming started again, even with the nipple guard. I relied on the advice and support of my fellow new moms one of which paid for an in-home lactation consultant. This one was different than the hospital counselor. She was more thorough. She weighed my baby before and after feeding. She observed his latch and informed me that I probably didn’t need the nipple guard anymore. “He’s doing perfectly! Great latch!” I smiled in affirmation. But felt the sting of impending failure creep up from that nipple guard comment. I had been using it religiously for a little over a month. Maybe that was too much time. She watched me pump for 20 minutes. Observed that I was producing a “perfect” amount of milk and put me on a more strict pumping schedule so I could start to store milk. I hadn’t been able to store milk during the days leading up to her visit. His appetite had grown voracious. I was pumping and feeding around the clock. Days blurred together. I was so tired. I resented my husband for being able to leave the house to go to the laundromat or the corner deli. I cried more. My child’s appetite grew more insatiable.

I lamented a bit on instagram stories about my journey thus far. Many mothers expressed their similar journeys and frustrations with breastfeeding. They connected me to other moms and doulas. A few moms directed to lactation support groups. The thing was, I had anxiety about leaving the house. I was unsure that I would be able to perform the act of breastfeeding in front of other moms. I began to feel my goal of being a great mom slipping away. How was I only 1.5 months in and already fucking up?

A very good friend of mine, a mother of four young children, also a black woman, informed me that she too was unable to adequately breastfeed her first 3 children. She supplemented the little breast milk she was able to produce with formula and donor milk. She too pumped often, on the highest setting sometimes. Her first three children had been delivered via cesarean. All three had some amount of trauma attached the circumstances of their birth, from hospital staff to insurance, her first was the most traumatic of them all. Yet, all of her children are remarkable. My idea of a great mother was becoming more layered. As a result, I massaged the thought of formula feeding and tabled it.

I’ll never forget asking my husband, through tears, to run to the drug store to get formula one particularly rough night. I counted every ounce of formula I gave my baby. I tried to reserve his consumption of it for times when he wouldn’t latch at all, which became more and more frequent. Every time I prepared a bottle of formula for him I cried. I couldn’t watch my husband feed it to him. Each time he was fed from the bottle, his crying stopped. He was full, not of breast milk, but of a manufactured substance. He would burp and fall asleep just like he did when he was full of breast milk. He was full. He was at peace. Did he know the difference? Maybe I wasn’t a great mom at the moment, but I was starting to feel like a pretty ok one.

Feeding my baby formula two weeks into his third month still evoked intense sadness for me, but somehow it also allowed me to experience more freedom: longer naps, sporadic phone meetings for work, time out of the house with or without my baby. The sadness led me to once again seek out lactation support. A doula I met on Instagram told me how bad the formula advice was that my friend gave me. I disagreed but thought this doula’s perspective was worth exploring. Maybe my friend wasn’t as educated as this doula was on the subject. Maybe this doula wasn’t as educated about the validity of one’s inability to breastfeed.

I walked 2 miles (part of my personal recovery from my csection) to another lactation counselor’s office. I’d called the day before to make sure someone would be there. I showed up. She wasn’t there. My hopes of reclaiming my great mom title came crashing down. It didn’t help that I had also just had an argument with a close friend that morning. I was reeling with anger and frustration. “WHY HAS ALL OF THIS BEEN SO HARD?!” My pregnancy was mired in sickness. I developed a disease that came pretty close to taking me, my baby, or both of us out of here. And now breastfeeding wasn’t going well? I felt faint and dizzy from the thoughts of failure. I accepted defeat during the two mile walk back home and immediately made my son a bottle of formula. 

I’m four months into being a mom and I’m learning more and more each day that I am not just an ok mom, I’m a good mom. I know this based on the fact that my child is happy and according to his pediatrician, quite healthy. He exudes joy. He is taken care of and loved with every fiber of his parents’ (and grandparents’) being. I’m still sad, however. When hashtags and my instagram algorithm remind me that other moms would look at what I feed my child in pure disgust, I get sad. When I see my friends effortlessly whip out a boob to soothe their fussy child forming an instant, animalistic, instinctual, necessary bond, I’m sad.  My mother breastfed me for two months before switching to formula. She had to go back to work. She tells me she couldn’t produce enough milk to store. I too had a voracious appetite, apparently.  I didn’t know this until after I gave birth. Why would I? I didn’t fit the description of the “formula fed baby” I pieced together from the statistics freely tossed at me during breastfeeding class.

Simply put, my baby preferred the bottle over my breast. Ultimately, he decided for himself and left me in the grey of a seemingly black and white issue: breastfeeding is best, formula is worst. Pick a side. What of those of us whose children picked a side for them? Are we cast out of the club? Do we form our own club? As a black woman, I’m pretty exhausted with aspects of my existence being defined in reaction to othering. And now, it seems like there’s no way for me to cross the isle into Breastfeeding Mom Land. Even if breastfeeding women empathize with my situation, I will still envy their ability to breastfeed because I cannot. I will still, somehow be othered and quite frankly, as a result, judged. Motherhood is not a monolith. Our experiences, while somewhat similar, are wholly our own. So are our children (archaic concepts of the ownership of people aside). The best lesson from motherhood so far is that my child is not a vessel for my insecurities or fears. He is not a projection of the aspirations I have for myself. He is his own person with his own karma, abilities, and abundant future (hopefully joyful) experiences. 

The movement for public breastfeeding is in the lead for breastfeeding causes and this messaging exists in a variety of media. Black breastfeeding is a distant cousin. Still present. Not as amplified. Which is why I wholeheartedly support Black Breastfeeding Week and its mission. I want other black mothers to know of this movement. I want them to do their independent research on breastfeeding, take classes, form support networks early and often (or at least know where to go for breastfeeding support). Very few moms discuss how incredibly hard breastfeeding actually is. Even fewer discuss the inherent effects of racism on black mothers from the healthcare system to the availability of general education on the topic of breastfeeding. #Blackbreastfeedingweek will hopefully change that.

I am choosing to nurture my child holistically. I’m not sure whether this means stepping away from social media to eliminate the trigger of seeing a woman breastfeeding, especially since I’ve received so much helpful advice and support from complete strangers on social media. I am sure that it involves formula, albeit organic. I’m certainly not happy about my ejection from the breastfeeding club, especially when I tried so hard to get in. Expending more time and resources to be told what I’ve already tried, about which I’ve cried so so much about to this day, no longer interests me. I’m really only interested in being present for my baby’s beautiful growth which I’m overjoyed to witness, even behind occasional tears.

[pride-vns-blog]

LGBTQ VN Week: Day Three! (6/20)

Welcome back for my third day of LGBTQ visual novel recommendations! Remember to check out my first post’s “One note before we get started” section to get a handle on what this recommendation list is, what it’s not, and why I made it, if you haven’t already!

The four visual novels I’ve got lined up to talk about today move beyond endlessly bleak apocalypses to focus instead on persistence and hopes for a brighter future — Spincut’s Who We Are Now, Sofdelux Studio’s Disaster Log C, and Worst Girls Games’ We Know The Devil, followed by a conversation with Jaime Scribbles Games about her upcoming As We Know It.

(Disclaimers: I’m somehow still into unique-looking apocalypse stories in the year 2018, so I backed both Who We Are Now and As We Know It on Kickstarter, and I also know the creators of Disaster Log C personally.)

Head on in for comic book supervillain jokes, super important teddy bears, one hell of a summer camp, and juggling your full-time job with the end of the world!

WHO WE ARE NOW (SPINCUT)

Itch.io Tagline: "A queer, post-apocalyptic visual novel about love at the end of the world.” Genre(s): Romance; slice of life; science fiction. Release Date: December 12th, 2017 (Xander’s Story); June 18th, 2018 (Jesse’s Story); TBA (Ray’s Story & Nathan’s Story). Content Warnings: Multiple explicit sex scenes; discussion of traumatic violence.

Who We Are Now, a visual novel following protagonist Wes as he offers comfort to the isolated fellow residents of a post-apocalyptic town named Home under the advice of town leader Mohra. The backdrop for Who We Are Now is distinctly science fiction, but the worldbuilding elements are interestingly vague enough that the characters only refer to the apocalypse more in terms of how it impacted their lives, rather than concrete details about exactly which places were destroyed on what dates and how. That’s personally something I prefer for character-focused pieces like this, and an interesting contrast to the hyper-detailed way AAA studios approach the apocalypse — it works in Who We Are Now, especially in the instances where the characters react differently to the circumstances of their situation or share different information, because it’s what they’ve retained.

Although Who We Are Now is short and largely still in “preorder”, according to its Itch.io page, both of the two relatively complete Stories — starring romanceable characters Xander and Jesse, respectively — offer distinct enough stories with memorable characters that I feel comfortable saying their two companion pending routes (Ray and Nathan) will all be well worth the price and the wait. Spincut’s script treats the two love interests’ struggles with society and their respective traumas carefully, never really offering an answer or a single moment that stood out to me as being a demand for them to just “get over it”. Both Jesse and Xander bristle, especially in the later half, and neither Xander’s struggle to control his mysterious electric powers nor Jesse’s slow progress fitting in as part of the society in Home go seamlessly. Even Wes’s personality feels realistically flawed; as a character who’s lived for years on his own, there’s moments in the script where his self-reliance and avoidance gets in the way of honest and open communication.

As a relationship-focused story with a heavy emphasis on character development, Who We Are Now’s writing delivers some solid growth and reasonable conflicts in a minimal amount of time, especially in Xander’s Story! Without going into too many spoilers, his convictions about the “bad guys” outside of the community of Home and his struggles with self-worth throughout the story build up to a believable, sympathetic end — his Story raises some interesting questions about violence in a post-apocalyptic world that, combined with how different it felt from Jesse’s perspective, made me all the more excited to see Ray and Nathan’s viewpoints on the apocalypse.

(Also, the sex scenes are 👌.)

The Xander’s Story and Jesse’s Story chapters of Who We Are Now are available now for a total price $15, a price that includes the eventual release of Ray’s Story and Nathan’s Story, both of which currently TBA. For more updates, you can follow developer Spincut on Itch.io or Twitter.

DISASTER LOG C (SOFDELUX STUDIO)

Itch.io Tagline: "It has been raining ceaselessly for 7 days...” Genre(s): Comedy; mild horror. Release Date: October 23rd, 2017. Content Warnings: See Itch.io page.

(This section contains mild, vague spoilers for Disaster Log C’s ending. It’s short and free, you might want to give it a try first!)

When it comes to the four apocalypse stories on this list, they’ve all got (thankfully) relatively different approaches to handling the end of the world, but Disaster Log C’s approach is one of the few visual novels that actually surprised me with its later swerve into a revelation I hadn’t totally expected. (I’m trying to be vague enough as possible, but I seriously didn’t see that plot point coming and can appreciate the worldbuilding that made it easy to accept as a “how did I miss that?” kind of fact once it’s revealed!) Protagonist Mell’s no-nonsense approach perfectly serves the story’s steady pace, punctuated by Mell’s own “Disaster Logs” of the ocean rising up to swallow the island she’s lived on her whole life, and that pace is fed into perfectly with the frantic nature of knife-wielding Issa’s demands about where to go, what to do, and how much alcohol she wants to drink. 

There’s a goofiness to Disaster Log C that never undercuts the story’s more serious moments — Mell’s struggle with the end of the world she’s always known and Issa’s own relative detachment from that world as it exists are both given more than enough space in the text, and the story never holds their growth back for the sake of slapstick. But there’s plenty of slapstick and a lot of absolutely hilarious moments, served equally well by both script and story, that are well-placed enough that it becomes clearer and clearer in hindsight exactly when Mell and Issa became as close as they can be by the story’s end. Their dynamic is a delight and well worth reading for, whether it’s in the most serious of heart-to-hearts or a scene where they’re arguing with one another about how much food to eat.

But above all else, the thing that really sells me on Disaster Log C — and Sofdelux Studio’s previous dating sim, Mermaid Splash Passion Festival — is how sincere it is. It’s easy for apocalyptic fiction to be smug, or grim, or just plain dark, but Disaster Log C manages to capture the real grief inherent in its premise without ever plunging into hopelessness. The world Issa and Mell inhabit is a beautifully illustrated one filled with plenty of jokes and triumphant fishing CGs, but it’s also a cruel world, and it’s still very much the story of how everything Mell has ever known disappeared in the blink of an eye. That’s a delicate balance to walk, for sure, but it’s a balance Disaster Log C walks seamlessly enough that its wonderfully optimistic True Ending had me in tears.

Disaster Log C is available now for free, in both English and Korean. Both halves of Sofdelux Studio also have individual Itch.io pages (DCS’s here and Nami’s here), or you can follow their shared Itch.io for more Sofdelux Studio projects!

WE KNOW THE DEVIL (PILLOWFIGHT, WORST GIRLS GAMES)

Steam Tagline: "Follow meangirl Neptune, tomboy Jupiter, and shy shy Venus as they get to know each other--but one always gets left out.” Genre(s): Group relationship horror. Release Date: February 15th, 2016. Content Warnings: Religious abuse; blood; character death; implications of sexual harrassment/abuse.

(This section contains spoilers for the plot and endings of We Know The Devil. Sorry! Please play it!)

It would be difficult — if not totally impossible — for me to talk about why I liked We Know The Devil or what it's doing in this group of visual novels without spoiling the ending in one way or another. (I don't think I could even refer to Venus, my hands-down favorite character, in a way that felt natural without dodging around her pronouns like a middle schooler playing volleyball.) For a while, I considered putting this in the creative design category and trying to avoid spoilers anyway! There’s been of fascinating pieces that I’ve loved reading about how We Know The Devil’s unique choice system operates; its “choose two characters out of three” model is smart, well-executed, and offers a lot of character development in both the duo you observe and the one you don’t in every playthrough.

But the piece of this story that I’ve always loved the most has been its ending and the way I feel that it functions as a work of apocalyptic fiction. While the other three entries on this list are all set either at the dawn of the apocalypse or well after the apocalypse has literally “dawned”, We Know The Devil’s apocalypse is more quasi-metaphorical and much more closely linked to its ending. If you read it 100% literally, the “three worst girls since Eve” ascend in all the ways they were never supposed to be and end the world; if you read it strictly metaphorically, they still become more removed from the all-encroaching, endlessly painful social standards that have been forced upon them. And in that case, it’s even more the “end of the world” for their family or the religious authority figures around them to see that self-satisfaction and acceptance instead of the quiet repression and shame, isn’t it?

I can’t deny that a lot of my fondness for this kind of reading is a deeply personal one, but I don’t necessarily think that’s a bad thing. (If anything, I think how many personal reactions there have been to We Know The Devil is a testament — ha! — to the nuanced writing and worldbuilding.) The legacy of religious abuse in the name of Christianity, specifically Irish Catholicism, is something that’s haunted my own family for generations. It’s dictated who got married and who couldn’t get divorced, it’s been the reason some of my friends were born and the reason some others died, and its impact is so irreversable that the guilt even gets passed down into generations that have barely attended a service. So for We Know The Devil’s true ending to take a lot of those religious hallmarks, that guilt from failing to live up to expectations, and then build up to a true ending where the rest of the world is damned for the way it treated Jupiter, Neptune, and Venus — without the true ending’s text ever condemning any of them for being teenagers who are willing to scorch the Earth, metaphorically or literally, and refuse to accept the pain they shouldn’t have to suffer? As a story about the end of three characters’ slice of the world, We Know The Devil one hell of an answer to the Christian idea of a Rapture, and one I prefer a thousand times over.

We Know The Devil is available now on sale for $1.99 (75% off), while you can try We Know The Demo for free on Itch.io; Worst Girls Games can be found on Twitter and Tumblr with more information about their upcoming project, Heaven Will Be Mine!

AS WE KNOW IT (JAIME SCRIBBLES GAMES)

Kickstarter Tagline: "A heavily branching visual novel, featuring love, friendship and life-sim elements in a future destroyed by the sun.” Genre(s): Romance; drama. Release Date: April 25th, 2018 (demo); TBA (final version). Content Warnings: Alcohol and drug use; violence; mature content.

As someone who really enjoyed Pinewood Island, Jaime Scribbles Games’ debut horror visual novel about college students trapped on an island with a murderer, I’ve been looking forward to As We Know It since I first saw initial character designs. The first demo definitely was what I’d been hoping it would be — although visually unfinished in places, given that the Kickstarter was largely to help fund purchase of its art assets like finished backgrounds and side character sprites — and the story about a post-apocalypse society that largely functioned but still ran into unexpected troubles instantly hooked me.

Interested in hearing a little more about protagonist Ashlynn’s dual focus on romance and maintaining a job, I reached out to Jaime with a couple questions to hear what she had to say about her upcoming visual nove.

First, congratulations on your Kickstarter reaching full funding and a bonus goal! I'm sure you've done a lot of this already during the funding period, but how would you pitch As We Know It to someone who'd never heard of it before?

A heavily branching visual novel with romance in a post-apocalyptic setting. Something along those lines.

Yeah, that sounds accurate to me! What's the experience in having run a successfully-funded Kickstarter for a visual novel been like? Are there any weird little details or things that you weren't expecting to have to deal with that have become surprisingly important?

Hm, I didn’t really know what to expect. I can’t say anything too unusual occurred.

Hey, no news is better than bad news, for sure!

Both As We Know It and Pinewood Island have had different mechanics alongside the romance -- in Pinewood Island's case, unpuzzling a brutal series of deaths, and in As We Know It's case, pursuing a career path in a crisis-stricken community -- that seem to be just as central to the storytelling, rather than a backdrop for romance. Can you talk a little bit about striking that balance?

It’s not easy! I have to make sure it makes sense for these characters to want to pursue romance despite whatever else is going on. That usually means making sure things don’t get too intense until more of a relationship is formed. Since romance is such a heavy aspect I hope people don’t question it too much lol

When you're designing characters' personalities or approving their visual depictions, what do you keep in mind? What do you think is the most important thing when it comes to building a lineup of characters to make them all feel distinct from one another?

I think of different personalities, different types of people I want to write, and then I try to make sure their looks are diverse and varied. As I write them their characteristics become more solid.

Were someone else to make a "dream visual novel" for you as a player, what do you think that visual novel would be like? In terms of genre, romance routes, etc?

Oh I’m not sure 🤔 probably a really good mash up of horror and romance with psychological elements and a mature story (no teenager plz) lol

😆 I'd definitely play that, too!

For my last question, what LGBTQ visual novels from other developers or creators are your personal recommendations?

Let’s see, Hustle Cat, Let's Meat Adam are my faves, but there are tons more out there!

Definitely! Thank you for the conversation, Jaime, I'm looking forward to seeing As We Know It's progress over the next couple months!

You can find more information about As We Know It on Kickstarter, try out the free demo on Itch.io and Steam, or keep up with progress on the game’s development blog!

[bellphilip91]

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[discoveringthebible]

Holy Week: Anointing at Bethany*

I have a friend whom I meet with on a regular basis (except for the moment while I recover from my back surgery.) She asks a lot of great, thought provoking questions as she learns more about the Bible. One of the things that she wanted to learn more about was Holy Week and the events that lead up to Jesus’ death on the Cross. 

After refreshing my memory, because let’s face it, I can’t remember everything, nor do I want my brain to explode, I’ve compiled scripture passages about Jesus’ last week. 

I grew up in a denomination that didn’t discuss much about Holy Week, except for The Last Supper, Good Friday and Easter. So I was always interested in reading in the Bible about what happened leading up to it. 

Sometimes I think that we get so caught up in teaching and preaching about certain things (i.e. The Last Supper, the death of Jesus and Jesus’ resurrection), which is extremely important, but we forget some other life events that we can also learn a great deal from. 

*Before I start, I want to point out that most people begin Holy Week on Palm Sunday when Jesus rides into Jerusalem on a donkey. However, I choose to begin Holy Week the day before. Some people add the event that occurs to Holy Tuesday, but I personally do not. While Mark’s account places this on Tuesday, his account is the only one to do so. John’s account places it on the Saturday, a day before Palm Sunday. 

HOLY WEEK:

(All Scriptures in New Living Translation)

Saturday: Jesus’ Anointed at Bethany

Matthew 26:6-13: 

6: Meanwhile, Jesus was in Bethany at the home of Simon, a man who had previously had leprosy. 7: While he was eating, a woman came in with a beautiful alabaster jar of expensive perfume and pour it all over his head. 8: The disciples were indignant when they saw this. “What a waste!” they said. 9: “It could have been sold for a high price and the money given to the poor.” 10: But Jesus, aware of this, replied, “Why criticize this woman for doing such a good thing to me? 11: You will always have the poor among you, but you will not always have me. 12: She has poured this perfume on me to prepare my body for burial. 13: I tell you the truth, wherever the Good News is preached throughout the world, this woman’s deed will be remembered and discussed.” 

Mark 14:1-9:

1: It was now two days before Passover and the Festival of Unleavened Bread. The leading priests and the teachers of religious law were still looking for an opportunity to capture Jesus secretly and kill him. 2: “But not during the Passover celebration,” they agreed, “or the people may riot.” 3: Meanwhile, Jesus was in Bethany at the home of Simon, a man who had previously had leprosy. While he was eating, a woman came in with a beautiful alabaster jar of expensive perfume made from essence of nard. She broke open the jar and poured the perfume over his head. 4: Some of those at the table were indignant. “Why waste such expensive perfume?” they asked. 5: “It could have been sold for a year’s wages and the money given to the poor!” So they scolded her harshly. 6: But Jesus replied, “Leave her alone. Why criticize her for doing such a good thing to me? 7: You will always have the poor among you, and you can help them whenever you want to. But you will not always have me. 8: She has done what she could and has anointed my body for burial ahead of time. 9: I tell you the truth, wherever the Good News is preached throughout the world, this woman’s deed will be remembered and discussed.”

John 12:1-11:

1: Six days before the Passover celebration began, Jesus arrived in Bethany, the home of Lazarus--the man he had raised from the dead. 2: A dinner was prepared in Jesus’ honor. Martha served, and Lazarus was among those who ate with him. 3: Then Mary took a twelve-ounce jar of expensive perfume made from essence of nard, and she anointed Jesus’ feet with it, wiping his feet with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance. 4: But Judas Iscariot, the disciple who would soon betray him, said, 5: “That perfume was worth a year’s wages. It should have been sold and the money given to the poor.” 6: Not that he cared for the poor--he was a thief, and since he was in charge of the disciples’ money, he often stole some for himself. 7: Jesus replied, “Leave her alone. She did this in preparation for my burial. 8: You will always have the poor among you, but you will not always have me.” 9: When all the people heard of Jesus’ arrival they flocked to see him and also to see Lazarus, the man Jesus had raised from the dead. 10: Then the leading priests decided to kill Lazarus, too, 11: for it was because of him that many of the people had deserted them and believed in Jesus. 

One of the things in reading through these three stories is that while many things are similar, there are differences in them. Especially in John’s account of the story. One of the things that we have to recognize in reading these is that these stories were written decades after the events actually occurred. 

According to the Life Application Study Bible, Matthew’s book was written approximately 30-35 years after Jesus’ death and resurrection. Mark’s account was written approximately 25-30 years after Jesus’ death and resurrection. John’s account was written 55-60 years after Jesus’ death and resurrection. 

However, no matter how long these stories were written from when the story actually took place, these stories were written from the perspectives of different people in Jesus’ life. And while we can look at all the differences and pick it apart, when read together we actually get more of the picture of what happened during this anointing at Bethany, regardless of who’s house it was.

The sacrifice of the poor woman was the same.

Jesus’ lesson is the same.

Sometimes we think that what we can do will not really make a difference. Sometimes we do not do things because others can do more. The woman, who poured nard perfume on Jesus, did what she could to prepare Jesus for what he was about to endure. While she was criticized initially, Jesus praised her for she was able to do something that no one else was able to do, or understood to do. When we are presented with an opportunity to help someone, no matter how small, or insignificant we think it might be. We should do it anyway, especially when God has enabled us to help. Sometimes we can be the only ones who can help in a particular way. :) 

And I am sure you all are wondering:

What the heck is nard? 

According to Wikipedia:

“Spikenard, also called nard, nardin, and muskroot, is a class of aromatic amber-colored essential oil derived from....a flowering plant of the valerian family which grows in the Himalayas, Nepal, China and India.”

And according to the blog “The Mysterious Spikenard Oil and Aromatherapy in Herbal Medicine” on Greek Medicine by David Osborn, 

“The Indian Spikenard ointment that anointed the feet of Jesus had a relaxing, loosening and antispasmodic action to sooth pain, relax sore, tired muscles, and to help him let go of his suffering and attachment to the physical body and its inevitable traumas in preparation for the transformation and metamorphosis that he was about to undergo. Topically, the essence of the Spikenard penetrated into his muscles and tendons, and aromatically its scent had a soothing, relaxing, mood elevating effect on Jesus.” 

Remember, Jesus loves you. 

Peace and blessings

Cody Marie Bolton