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jawritter · 4 years ago

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Let’s Get Lost

Summary: Jensen takes you on a date to the local corn maze in lue of Halloween, and the fall season with every intention of getting lost.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Warnings: Agoraphilia kink (public sex kink), Smut, outdoor sex, fluf, language, unprotected sex, dry humping? Sex on a bet. That’s pretty much it I think.

Word Count: 2743

A/N: This fic was beta’d by the lovely @miss-nerd95! Thanks so much love!! I haven’t dropped a Jensen Ackles one shot in a long time, so I figured in light of Kinktober, it seemed like the thing to do. LOL. As always please do not copy my work! Feedback is golden! I hope you guys enjoy this one!!

Want more? Check out my Masterlist, and if that’s not enough become a patreon, and get exclusive fics as well as make request!

**MASTERLIST** **BECOME A PATREON**

The night air was turning crisp as the sun sank down past the low hanging clouds, casting long shadows of the trees along the highway as you stared out of the windshield in front of you. Jensen’s free arm slung over the seat with his hand resting on your shoulder, his bowed legs that you loved so much spread in a relaxed seated position and a pair of shades resting on the bridge of his nose as he drove down the fairly empty road out of town. His fingers drum lightly on Baby’s steering wheel to the sounds of Zeppelin that filtered through the speakers.

This was by far your most favorite place in the world to be. The front seat of Baby with Jensen’s arm caging you protectively against his side, hints of the season’s change thick in the air which was blowing through the open windows.

You didn’t get to do this often in Texas, where cold days even in fall were few and far in between. Jensen’s work schedule was also part of a huge problem as far as nights out alone could go. Thankfully, even though he was somewhat of a well known celebrity in Austin, people were pretty respectful, and when they saw him out they didn’t hover too much. It was a blessing in a big way, not many people in his line of work had the freedom to do things like what you were headed to do tonight together without bringing a whole security detail.

Tonight was the night before Halloween, Jensen had wanted to go to the local corn maze in town. It was something the town did every year, and it was something that you always looked forward to. There were always hayrides, and little old classic games like horseshoes, and even an archery competition. People would come out with their kids, or just on a date like the two of you were doing now. The goal was to make it through the corn maze without getting lost… or not getting caught… depending on just what you had in mind.

“You’re quiet tonight.” Jensen observed as he pulled onto the dirt road leading to the corn maze and festivities ahead of you.

You let your head fall on his shoulder as he circled around the open field to try and find a spot to park Baby that was out of the way. She was a good bit bigger than most of your average cars, and he cared for her just as much as Dean had.

“Just enjoying the evening,” you tell him. Honestly he could have kept driving your around and you would have been content just to be with him.

“Well, we’re here, so let’s get lost,” he said, pulling the ball cap from the backseat and slipping it over his hair, wiggling his eyebrows at you playfully.

You give him a playful push on the chest in return, and laugh as his fingers slip around your waist, pulling you to him and peppering every inch of skin he could reach with little kisses.

“Jay!” you squealed, trying to wiggle your way away from his grasp as he continued his assault. “Stop!”

“Fine,” he said, releasing you with a deep chuckle. “But you better not go astray out there tonight, sweetheart. You never know what might happen in the dark.”

The mischievous, pantymelting smirk that he gave you let you know exactly what he had planned by coming out here tonight and you weren’t surprised, but you weren’t gonna give in that easy, at least while you were still in the car.

“Jensen,” you hiss as the pair of you get out of the car, and start making your way towards the that was forming at the mouth of the corn maze where people were getting their bracelets stamped and paying the admission fee. “We are NOT doing that here. There are too many people and we can get caught!”

“That’s all part of the fun, baby girl,” he said, giving you a wink and stepping up in front of the small table to pay for your admission.

You narrowed your eyes as the back of his head as he paid the lady at the table, and was handed two red paper-bracelets.

Jensen was a country boy through and through, all those years in California had done nothing to take the Texas out of the man. He was a gentleman, and a total sweetheart. He’d give the shirt off of his back if someone needed it more than him, and he had the most electric and admirable personality you had ever saw in an individual. The one thing that you never expected to discover when you first started dating was his public sex kink.

You were pretty sure it had everything to do with the thrill of almost being caught. You discovered it when he literally fucked you in the crowd at a slipknot concert. Thankfully the flashing lights and the dark arena made it hard for the crowd to see anything but the stage, and you got out of that without getting caught.

And then there was the time the two of you did it in the girls bathroom at Jared’s bar, and even in the back of the movie theater three weeks ago.

He was also the kind of guy that liked to take you home and make love with you where no one was watching. Those were when the sweet, intimate moments happened, the ones that let you know just how much he loved you, but this little kink of his was just for additional fun, and how could you deny him that?

“Okay everybody! Here are the rules!” a heavy sat man yelled at the top of the line, wearing overalls, a straw hat, and looking every bit like something that rolled out of a redneck comedy.

“No running, no booze, no wandering off of the trail, no trying to sneak into the shake in the middle of the corn maze. If anyone is caught doing any of these things you will be asked to leave! Signs are set up through the maze to let you know where you are, and there are food trucks and games set up on the other side of the corn maze! You guys have a great time!”

With that he threw open the ropes that were held up by two pools at the top of the maze, and the line started to move. Jensen’s hand laced with yours as people broke off in groups in the maze, looking around he took the path that seemed to have less people going in that direction, purposely taking the wrong way. A mischievous smirk that was put there by Satan himself to tempt any woman who saw it plastered all over his face.

“Jensen,” you said, giving him a playful shove as the two of you made your way deeper into the corn maze. “I know what you’re up to mister.”

“I am the poster child of innocence, sweetheart, you misjudge me,” he said in mock offense.

Standing up on his tiptoes Jensen got a good look at his surroundings. Even though the corn was way over your head, Jensen had a clear shot of the field around him if he stretched far enough. Damn him and those long bowed legs.

You rolled your eyes dramatically, and shook your head. Knowing that whatever Jensen Ackles wanted, he got, not that you were going to complain - much, and you could already see the well-defined bulge forming in the crotch of his dark-blue jeans that left little to the imagination as it was.

“Oh you're innocent? Yeah, then I must be Virgin Mary.”

Narrowed green eyes moved around to meet your gaze as straight, white teeth sank into his lower lip, the former shamelessly roaming your body in an almost predatory way that made you shiver.

“Oh baby, you ain’t no virgin. I made sure of that.”

You swatted his chest when he winked and walked ahead of him further up the trail, the sun sinking lower as the two of you made your way deeper into the maze.

“I’ll tell you what,” Jensen said, grabbing your waist, and pulling you close to his chest just in case listening ears were close by he couldn’t see. “You take the lead and if we end up at the end of the corn maze, we can go home and I'll have my way with you there, but if we get lost on a dead end and I win… I get to have my way with you right here.”

It was your turn to narrow your gaze at him as the excitement danced behind those forest green orbs that were staring down into your own. The excitement was almost contagious as it radiated off him.

“You already know we’re lost, you can stretch to see over the corn,” you tell him accusingly.

“Actually, we’re so deep in here that I can’t see any way out, and it’s getting dark,” he said, procuring two small flashlights out of his back pocket that you didn’t even know he had stuck there. “So it’s fair game, unless you're too chicken about getting caught if you lose.”

If there’s one thing you weren’t, it was a coward. Now you couldn’t back down from the challenge and he knew it.

“Fine, I accept,” you tell him, poking him in the chest and watching as a wicked smile spread across those lips that were just daring you to kiss them. “But if I win I also want to go on a hayride before we leave.”

You knew Jensen would want to get out of here as soon as you hit the exit if you won, his patience to get your pants off would be worn almost completely thin at that point and you wanted to drag out this victory for as long as you could.

“Lead the way, Y/N/N,” he said, giving you yet another smirk that made your knees weak. If you weren’t trying to make it at least a little hard for him you’d probably have given in already. He’d been in the mood all day, but where was the fun in that?

You thought you were making headway, you thought you were actually getting out, until you rounded the corner and found yourself standing in front of that damn shed they were talking about, and a sign that said to turn around and follow the signs for the exit.

“Dammit!” Stamping your foot you turned to see a very cocky Jensen, who was leaning against the sign biting his lip as if he had every right to stand there looking like the cat that caught the mouse.

“Looks like I won, baby girl, but I have to say, if you were going to lose, wasn't this a good place to do it?”

Pushing himself off the sign he was leaning against, Jensen stalked towards you with an almost predatory stance, closing the distance between the two of you in just two short strides. His lips collided with yours as he backed the two of you to the little shack, not stopping until you hit the wall, your flashlights long forgotten on the ground as his body dominated your own.

Your hands twisted in his hair, his ball cap on the ground next to your feet as he kicked your feet apart and nibbled on your lower lip, pressing his clothed length against your center. You gasped as his fingers started to make their way to the button on your jeans as he grinded himself down against you, creating a delicious friction that only got better as he harshly shoved your pants from your hips and kicked them out of the way before resuming his teasing.

“Jensen,” you gasp as he increased the pressure of each thrust of his hips, the denim of his pants moving the thong that you were wearing against your swollen clit in a way that already had you panting. “We’re going to get caught, they said to stay out of this place.”

“We’re not in it, we’re outside of it, and if you can’t keep quiet baby girl your gonna be pretty embarrassed when they find us here,” he said, his teeth scraping the shell of your ear as his fingers wind their way around your legs and hoist you up to put even more pressure on your center.

It was all you could do not to make any sound, your legs already shaking as he continued to drive you crazy, and he hadn’t even pulled his dick out from his pants yet.

“Come on baby, let go, all you gotta do is come, and then I’m gonna fill you up right here, you want that don’t you? Want me to fuck you right out here in the open like this, where anyone can see us, see who you belong too. Don’t you baby girl?”

You nodded furiously as he quickened his pace. He was pressing against you just right as he continued to drive you crazy.

“Then let go, baby.”

His teeth sank down on your pulse point, and that was all it took. Your orgams hit you like a wave, your walls clenched around nothing as he slowed down his ministrations. When you finally stopped shaking Jensen pressed his weight against you to hold you up and freed his cock from his confines, moving your ruined thong out of the way and shoving inside of you with ease, your walls tightening around him as soon as he was fully seated and both of you let out a groan as he stretched you.

“Fuck, so fucking wet, Y/N. Gotta keep quiet baby girl, or this party ends before it can get started.”

You nod at him and he slowly starts to pull out before slamming his hips back into yours, his hand slips between your body and rubbing harsh circles on your clit.

You held a scream in as Jensen’s cock slammed into you with mapped out accuracy, hitting that spot deep inside of you only he seemed to be able to find. Low grunts and breaths mingled as he kissed you in order to swallow the sounds you were making, your body already barreling towards its end as your walls fluttered around him.

“God, I need to feel you sweetheart, let go,” he said with a strained voice, as his own pace started to falter and your walls squeezed him as your orgasm hit you like a freight train.

Two more thrusts and he stilled inside of you, filling you up with hot ropes of cum as his body twitched and he whined into your neck. Aftershocks of your release still rocked your body as you ran your hands through his hair, waiting for him to come down from his high.

“Fuck, I needed that,” Jensen said, his breath fogging around the two of you in pants as he slowly removed his now softening length from you, and helped you stand on shaking legs. “You okay, baby?”

Nodding at him, you reached for your pants, but he was faster, helping you step into them before zipping his own, his lips finding yours in a much slower, softer kiss.

“Okay, we need to get out of here, it’s getting cold,” you tell him as he laced his fingers with yours, and led you toward the exit, stopping to shrug out of his denim shirt, which left him in his fitted black tee and handed it to you to put on.

“Okay, but first that hayride you wanted, and maybe a funnel cake,” he said, kissing your entwined hands as he led you towards the end of the very eventful corn maze.

"You really want to go on a hayride with me?" you asked him hopefully.

"Of course I do! Besides, we can always get lost again on the way back to the car."

"You're terrible, you know that," you rolled your eyes, looking up at him as you reached the exit of the corn maze. The sound of kids running and music playing invaded your little happy bubble you'd been surrounded in as you made your way back to reality.

"Yeah I know, but you love me anyway."

And you could honestly say that you, with everything in you, loved that man for all he was.

Forever tags: @deanmonandnegansbitch @hayleeharling @flamencodiva @coldmuffinbanditshoe @bxbyizzy @dirty-pan-goblin @itmejado @supernatural3002 @teresa-67 @thoughts-and-funnies @deanwanddamons @rvgrsbrns @bi-danvers0 @onethirstyunicorn @i-love-superhero @akshi8278 @lyss-dw79 @magssteenkamp @lemondropirwin @squirrelnotsam @hobby27 @spnbaby-67 @mrsjenniferwinchester @defenderrosetyler @screechingartisancashbailiff @thecreatiivecorner @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624 @busy-bee-angel-misska @justanotherwinchester @brilovesdeanwinchester @idksupernatural @lyarr24 @amandamdiehl @love-jackles-37-blog @miraclesoflove @Waywardsistershy @emoryhemsworth @dean-winchesters-gardian-angel @softsebastian @tatted-trina6

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demonprosecutor · 4 years ago

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SOMETHING MORE LIGHTHEARTED THIS TIME

“don’t tell me that you’re scared of myroclus.” the words leave your mouth amused, patting the flank of the enormous draft horse, watching as zagreus stared back at myroclus warily. like he was going to bite his head off or something. the cottage doesn’t exactly have a stable, nor is myroclus an entirely domesticated horse, but he’s a good companion and fairly compliant with you.

zagreus shook his head, a little bit peeved at the thought of being scared of a horse - after all, he was the one who faced the hordes of the underworld, dying so many times that hypnos had to dedicate a list solely for himself. “i’m not scared. just -- wary, ok? does he have special powers? what’s his parentage? and do i have to expect fire-breathing in the near future.”

the questions make you laugh, myroclus nickering and shaking his head before dipping it to sneak a few nibbles of grass below. tsk, tsk, what a hungry thing! “no powers, just a normal horse. he’s a draft horse. i use him for plowing and riding in the woods yonder, the wolves fear him.” you move forward, scratching myroclus’s neck, fond at the way he nestled his head on your shoulder.

dark eyes peer at zagreus, almost conveying the words of: my human. zagreus raises his hands in surrender, no, he wasn’t going to steal your human. it was clear that winter was already nearing, and the journey towards the nearest town was going to be fairly treacherous, but there were some needed supplies and you couldn’t wait till after lady demeter’s anger abetted.

but still - you didn’t want your two best boys (don’t tell zagreus that you already considered him a best boy, his ego did not need any more stroking) to argue on the journey there. with quick hands, you produce an apple, voice pitching into something baby-ish, “you are a good boy, right, myroclus? you’re going to behave for me?”

myroclus takes the apple from your hands, snuffling along your palm with a pleased snort. “ok, come here. he got his treat and he knows to be a good boy, right, sweet one?” myroclus shudders in delight, eyes going slightly lidded and hooves stamping the ground.

“are you sure?”

you roll your eyes and turn around, reaching out to curl your hand around the prince’s, tugging him closer. “yes. i am sure. would i ever lead you astray?”

“no, but...” you shush him and press his hand on the side of myroclus’s flank, guiding him to stroke the horse firmly. “wait, i dont want to hurt him...”

“he’s made of pure muscle, he likes it firm, zag.” you concentrate on helping the prince pet myroclus to his liking, not noticing the apollo-bright smile that he levelled at you. when you do notice, you pause, narrowing your eyes suspiciously. “what.”

“you called me zag.” he points out, fingers curling to scratch myroclus’ favourite spot. “instead of zagreus.”

fluster rises like an inferno, ready to swallow you whole. “mm.” you pull your hand back, averting your gaze to the carefully-folded blue cloth that you meant to drape over the horse’s back in preparation of the journey.

zagreus grabs your arm, careful, gentle. like he always was, like he feared he could shatter you to pieces with one wrong move. (he wasn’t wrong exactly, but this sort of gentleness scared you because where else would ever experience that and prince zagreus’ destiny was beyond you and the simple cottage). “hey, i wasn’t making fun of you. i always told you, you didn’t have to be so formal with me. we’re friends. philia is what we are.”

philia, a friendly sort of love, an affection between friends, one of the four words love.

you tilt your head, heart molded like clay, warmed by the heat of his caring hands. and it is peace that makes its way in the hallowed atriums of your chest. home, you think. this was meant to be, in some strange, Fate-spun way. “philia.” you parrot, wrapping a hand around the one zagreus had curled around your arm.

it’s a strange moment, one that’s shattered with the way zagreus suddenly pulls back; flexing his hand slightly. “so, you were teaching me to ride this beast?”

myroclus whinnies in indignation, he was not a mere beast, he was the grandest of horses! you laugh again, unfolding the blue blanket that allowed you to the barest hint of relief from the bumpiness that riding horses could serve. “perhaps, but most of all, i will teach you to hold on. it would do you well to go and explore outside of my lady’s lands.” pause, thoughtful look. “if that is your wish, anyways.”

“i find no issue with that, i have been feeling a bit cooped up. and i have never ridden a horse before, how hard could it be?” zagreus watches as you tie the blanket to myroclus’ back before seeing the unimpressed look on your face. “what?”

“riding a horse is no easy feat, i’ll have you know.”

he could tell that he’s offended you, smiling sheepishly as if to say sorry! nonetheless, you turn towards myroclus, rolling up your chiton to revealed toned legs and thighs from years of hard work. sticking your tongue out, you take a few steps back before rushing forward and vaulting yourself onto myroclus’ back. zagreus claps wildly, whistling in appreciation at the show of athleticism, the only show of athleticism that you are willing to display.

you are simply content to walk through life instead of rushing.

“me next!” zagreus mirrors you, tensing his legs to leap...

“stop! no! you don’t know how to do it yet and myroclus isn’t prepared, what we are going to do is this.” you pat the horse’s neck, whispering a quiet: down boy, and myroclus settles on the ground. “now, up.” you pat behind your form, waiting patiently for zagreus to sit behind you, but he doesn’t.

oh. he looks... petulant. like a child. “i’m not a child, you know. i can do what you did. it’s easy!” he crosses his arms, but obligingly sits on the spot you had indicated. “This isn’t too bad.”

His arms wrap around your waist loosely, a smile dimpling at your cheeks. “not yet, and tighter.” you tug him until his arms tighten, his body a spot of heat at your back. prince zagreus is tall enough that he could comfortably place his chin on your head. “ready?” a whistle has your horse standing up once again, the reins tight around your fists. “just hold on.”

you snap the reins and off myroclus goes, the earth rumbling underneath his thunderous hooves. he was a bulky creature, as strong as an oak tree and not as fast as his other kin, but a dependable steed. you can hear zagreus grunting behind you, knees pressed tight to avoid being knocked off, voice jumping in amusing leaps at every bound of the horse. “how do you fare?” you call above the winds, cheeks bitten red by the fall air, delight in your gaze.

“iiiiii---- thiiiiiink---- im gonnaaaaaaahahhhhhhh----” his words come strangely and at a particular bump, one that has zagreus slipping and attempting to cling to you, thus setting off a chain reaction of him falling and you falling onto the rocky ground beneath.

luckily because of godlike reflexes, he maneuvers himself in a way that cushions your fall with his bulk, rollin in the mud before stopping. chiton messed, hair messed, face splattered with brown, you sit up, glaring at him crossly. distantly, you can see myroclus skidding to a halt and swinging his mighty head, returning in leisurely trots, taking a detour to a nearby field of sweetgrass. zagreus shrugs sheepishly at you, “you did say to hold on...”

“yes, but not yank me off the horse as well!” you try to wipe off the mud from your face, succeeding in smearing it even further. “ugh, it’s not getting off.” at least there’s one white spot left on your chiton. however, a splat against your chest has it disappearing --- you look up at zagreus who sports a shit-eating grin, the flames that licked his laurel wreathe dancing in delight. “you. did. not.”

he sticks his nose in the air, mouth curled in a manner that reminded you too much of lord hermes, “i did, and what are you going to do about it?”

if he insists on playing dirty, then you shall oblige him in turn. in his moment of gloating and taunting, you craft a mud ball and toss it right at his face, laughing at the way he sputters, features messed even further with dirt and clods of grass. zagreus appears to not have anticipated your retaliation and that makes it that much more sweeter.

your countenance may be reserved; however, that is by choice - underneath the mask, you had the capacity of being equally playful. you roll away from the god, scooping up handful of mud and temporarily overwhelming poor zagreus who attempts to escape the indent he made in the mud with a wet schlop!

however, whatever your advantage you had was swiftly lost. his dual-coloured eyes flash with excitement, teeth bared in a grin that foretold trouble. with his forearms up, he blocked every mudball you threw, whilst stepping closer and closer. you try to outmaneuver him, but as fleet-footed as you were, zagreus was even more superior (you suspected that he had been blessed by lord hermes, hardly fair!).

“---- got you!” the prince tackles you to the ground, carefully cushioning your head with a hand and pinned you in the mud - braced over you with a forearm next to your head and knees next to your thighs. by then, you’re both heaving from your play-fighting and nearly unidentifiable from the amount of mud caked on your forms.

the laughter from being bowled over and trapped trails off, your gazes captured in magnetic timelessness. you’ve noticed that you’ve been having these strange moments often, an electric quality that you cannot seem to place. it was terrifying, it was exhilarating. prince zagreus watches you, lips parted, quiet.

this moment - standing on the precipice of something different. you falter, pressing a hand on zagreus’ chest, laughing albeit awkwardly. “zagreus, m-myroclus. i have to get him. and we... we should get clean.” the words stuff your mouth as the moment is ruined, zagreus blinking in realization. he rocks back on his heels, smiling, but something in his gaze is different.

was it regret? was it disappointment?

he shouldn’t be, what this was -- it was an illusion. simply the games of lady aphrodite and nothing more. when he stands, he offers you a hand, which you take gratefully. “go back home and clean up, i need to get myroclus back.” it seemed like he wanted to protest; however, he doesn’t - midnight-hair matted with mud. zagreus doesn’t answer you, contenting with a nod and returning to the cottage.

you whistle loudly, myroclus’ ears pricking at the sound and trotting over to bump his snout against your cheek gently. “tsk, you were a bad boy, did you do that on purpose?” myroclus nickers, neither an affirmative or a negative. it must of been one of his bouts of mischief. “nonetheless, tomorrow, we’re going to practice more, please be good and i’ll bring you treats.” the prospects of treats, it seemed, was enough for the horse to internally pledge to behave.

after returning myroclus to his fenced field, you turn your feet back to the cottage and to the bathhouse where steaming rose water and oils awaited you. luxury has never been appealing to you, but the capacity to soak in a bath for an extended period of time was wonderful. you knocked on the door and upon finding no reply, entered the bathhouse, shedding your already-awkwardly dried clothes and sinking into the tub of hot water (zagreus had, no doubt, already refilled upon anticipation of your return).

you do not know how long you sat there and cleaned, allowing the day to sluice off your shoulders, but when you finish, your skin is pruny and countenance soften with the delight of someone well-soaked. a robe hung nearby, soft fabric that warded off the cold, cinched at the waist with rope.

thankfully, when you return to the kitchen where you know zagreus was stoking the fire for the stew they had made, nothing was on fire. his hair was endearingly fluffed up, swaddled in a similar robe. “nice bath? you took long.” he offers you a bowl of stew, which you take gratefully.

“i’m a bit sore from the fall, it was nice to have the warmth soak into my skin.” you pull up a chair, stretching luxuriously enough that your joints pop. “you know, i’ve been curious.” zagreus spoons food into his mouth, humming in acknowledgement (he’s learned to not talk with his mouth full, something you’ve scolded him about frequently). “when lord thanatos was here, he talked about your purpose... i’m sorry, am i not supposed to...” you trail off at the look he gives you. it’s not menacing or angry, but filled with a brand of determination.

ah, you forget. the vengeful, cataclysmic drive to see his birthmother, you wonder - would you go to such depths? would you descent to the pits of tartarus to see your family, so cruelly stolen from you?

“no, it’s... it’s fine.” he wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, “i came here to protect my mother. from the rest of the olympians.” that gets your attention, straightening in your seat.

“my lady is in danger?” the panic in your chest tightens, mind already racing with contingency plans. how, just how, are you supposed to protect the goddess?

he can see the fear in your eyes, reaching out to hold your hand tightly. “no harm will fall upon her. or you. i am here.”

but you know the disastrous uselessness of fighting against forces of nature themselves. after all, it was lord ares whom blessed the army, the general, that ravaged her home. “don’t. there are... there are certain things that you cannot fight against, believe me, i know.” your words are harsh, zagreus taken aback by the rawness of your self baring. you squeeze your eyes shut, dismissing your memories and traumas. easy, after all. pandora’s box, locked tight. “regardless, lord thanatos spoke about something about things not dying, doesn’t that scare you?”

zagreus considers that, tilting his head before shaking it. “not really. it’ll sort itself out soon. now, let’s stop talking about this nasty business. eat your dinner.”

you feel scolded, dismissed, really. but that’s nothing new. zagreus was a god, you remind yourself. he did not feel mortality in the way that you did. bah, nonetheless, you and this cottage is an insignificant blip in the grand scheme of things.

after all, being faceless was the greatest gift of all in this life.

#hades the game #hades supergiant #zagreus #zagreus hades #my writing #aku writing #a lot happened here #it was supposed to be a filler chapter; but it ended up not being that.#LOL #the mortal is really feeling too many emotions this chapter LOLOLOLOL

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paganchristian · 4 years ago

Photo

Well, I like this picture of my cat, with his tongue curled, so that’s why I’m posting it. Coincidentally I just noticed that there’s some bucket with a picture of it looks like the three wise men, in the corner behind him. I don’t have a ready interpretation of that as having any significance, but maybe it would if I tried, to find it. Or just found meaning whether it was “meant to be”, regardless. And when I am analyzing things for possible signs, I look at all kinds of random details. That is just one potential one that pops out at me. Sometimes I will analyze or go into meditative states and see what signs seem to pop out at me from whatever and wherever, or from particular things, that seem to be more fluid and abundant in the signs and feelings that they give to me. Like, pictures, personal photographs of ours, that is one thing. Anyway, ..

The tongue-curling, well, I call it that but maybe it’s something else, not quite a curling tongue, but it’s cute. Curling your tongue, it reminds me of childhood as my sister could curl her tongue but I could only partially curl mine and it seemed as if she was happy that she could do that better than me, if I recall correctly. Lol

Anyway the silliness of making faces, and again here we are at childhood themed stuff, a recurrent theme for me.

I am thinking of that because to me, it needs to be reminded of again and again and again because I keep on veering into the zone of worrying and thinking too Much! I can worry again, what of my salvation or Hell, I can worry, what about my family and loved ones and my daughter’s salvation or Hell, and I can worry about all of the things that I think that these Christians in these groups I’m drawn to might think.. I can worry how they might condemn or argue or debate over this or that with me, if they were to tell me how they saw my life, my thoughts, my feelings and my experiences, my interpretations and so on. I can think of all of the taboos I break that might send me to Hell in their eyes. I can think about all of the criticisms I would make that might make me a big problem to them, an outsider, intruding, stirring up conflict. But I can think of how I seem to need to express my problems I have with the things they do, because if I don’t’ do that then I feel repressed, self-destructive. I need to talk about the harm that these things are causing my heart and mind and soul, so that I can think it out. In the secluded, sequestered cloister of my own soul and my heart and my prayers to God, there is not enough conscious articulate awareness. I am trapped when I keep things there.

But even these people say you need a spiritual guide, to tell all to, when you have conflict and confusion. So they admit the need to talk things out. But I will not do that, that is, have such a one-on-one spiritual guide as they say you need, for one, because I’m not even a member of any kind of church, where you would find your guide, nor do I feel I should be a member of the church either, because I don’t agree with all of the rules or beliefs that they require, and nor follow the rules they demand enough to belong there. And I also don’t need a spiritual guide because I feel like it is very confining, and repressive, suffocating and controlling, the role it puts you in, if you have to depend on one person for all that, and if that person doesn’t really understand you and respect you and care about you and have compassion for you, if your situation goes way beyond what they can comprehend and know how to deal with, then you are likely to be judged, given wrong advice, given simplistic answers. I don’t need that yet again, as my weird situation has over and over again been the source of great pain when I tried to seek others’ input, and they wrongly judged and wrongly advised me, and if you place all of that pressure and expectation upon one solitary person, it’s way too much build-up and commitment to someone who you’re just assuming will understand and be able to care for you in the way you need, and not actually harm you instead, as everyone else has done. Some helped me, but mostly everyone has harmed me as much as they helped or harmed me way more than they helped me.

Anyway, I just want to forget all this feeling that I need to think and worry about that, any of that. Can’t I just think about practical obvious real world grounded life? Of course, and I think that is really what God wants me to do right now. I have health problems and my family does too, and I can address them to the best of my ability. I can try to think of how to connect to family members so that neither one of us is as lonely and isolated, and so that I will hopefully take small steps to learn, bit by bit, how to be more social, so that I can also have that skill for whenever I might need it in my life in the future, and I’m not completely isolated from every person who is not in my immediate family. I can teach my daughter the social habits and mannerisms and views and skills I gain. So that she will learn how to make the most of these things and not just be one more isolated, self-absorbed, lonely person who cannot find any way to connect to others. Who can find what to appreciate and find what there is in common that is truly relatable and worthwhile. Not that awkward feeling of forced and painful seeking solace and validation in others, when it’s not authentic and not true. Not that because that leads to a worse kind of loneliness that just being alone, oftentimes. But in spite of all the differences and the lack of ability to relate, still being able to find something that makes interacting worthwhile and meaningful and rewarding so we’re not so totally alone in this world, and so we have more than just our immediate family, who after all might not always be there one day.

What is it that makes me feel like I need to settle all these debates and these crises and dramas and threats regarding religion and spirituality? I think it’s only the voices of echoed memories of things I’ve read and heard and been told, that others have said, don’t do this, you can’t do this, you must do this, or you will be lost, you are wrong, you will go to Hell, etc, etc. And I should know that I have to live my actual life and I can’t get lost in these never-ending debates while my life goes astray or gets stuck in degenerating cycles, where I can’t get anywhere because there is no one to talk to, no clear answer, no honest straightforward discussion of my points, not the time and emotional and mental energy to think it all through, anyway.

I just have to remember how to let it all go. But excessive prayer and spiritual reading do not help me with that, at all. I seem to need to deeply distract myself from the majority of religious stuff, and only keep a bare minimum of practices.

Every day is so full of miracles, signs, coincidences, and special, unique moments. Rare things happen all of the time, every day, to everyone. But each rare thing only happens rarely, just like the many wildflowers blooming and so on, each blooming only a short time. But because we realize they’re ordinary, because they’re not totally unheard of, we shove them aside, as if they’re not very important and yet that is where I find all of my inspiration, all my signs, usually. In things that appear so ordinary even though they’re not as ordinary as they seem, at all, if you look at all the connecting coincidences, associations and synchronicities going on, all the different events that happen in a short time, in my mind, my dreams, my feelings and thoughts and ideas and little things that happen in my life and they all start to connect, in so many ways. Ways that are easy for someone to deny because they could just be coincidence but when you accept that coincidence can be meaningful even if it seems likely and not that rare, then you at that point, you have opened the door to a great world of wonder and joy and amazement, ideas, and insights that can change everything in your existence.

So why can’t I just let God talk to me like that? Why can’t I just let God talk to me through the feelings, the dreams, the visions and psychic impressions, and let that be his gift and guidance, in addition to my constant prayer, without going more formally into all the practices and beliefs they say I have to follow?

And the only reason shy I couldn’t do that would be is if I agreed to go along with what they say. What humans have made into traditions over time, and rules and so forth. And though they say it’s all God’s rules, and God’s demands he put on us, well, how can I assume such? When following those very rules is trapping me into a feeling of dissociated anxiety that prevents me doing real things that are good for clear, important actions of love and caring? When escapism and playfulness and daydreaming are healing me way more than prayers and religious practices would? Then what? I guess that is up for me to decide, because it is my life and I am the only one who can decide what I’ll believe about what I should do, and how, and why, and when.

What I can do, or can’t do, can believe or can’t believe. Even when I’ve asked God to help me believe and help me do these practices and it’s not working very well and he instead seems to be telling me to go do my escapist things, to just have fun. And I pray all the while I’m doing these fun and escapist things, so it’s not like I’m leaving God behind. God is in the fun and escapism and daydreaming.

It will have to be ok, for now, because I think I will drive myself crazy and waste a horrifying amount of time if I try to worry about all the ways I’m supposedly wrong and must follow rules according to certain Christians, but can’t follow them. No I just can’t let my life fall apart while I worry about such things.

I feel like maybe the reason that religious rules are so rigid is that people are creatures of habit. They are easily distressed if their rules and patterns are disrupted and so they create rules to represent their habits they want or choose to follow. It doesn’t need to make total sense or work all the time, it just needs to be a consistent habit for them. And then, the reason they get so upset when they see others doing differently or when they hear others arguing against their rules is because it makes them start to feel doubt over their habits. They really want to cling to those habits and they can’t stand doubt to be cast on them. People are so fragile, so easily upset in their sense of self-image and personal sense of purpose and validity, thinking they have a right to be the way they are, or thinking they are good enough, as so on. When someone starts to do things differently, they are so fragile, they start to think that if that person is doing things differently, maybe my way isn’t good and theirs is the better or the only good way. But when people have developed rigid habits, and they prop up their religious and moral identity on them, they are very fragile if they feel that someone’s different way of doing things might be better and might show that their way is wrong. I think that this also might account for the rampant conformity and judgmental attitudes and us vs. them mentalities that are so prevalent in human societies, even over things that absolutely don’t make any sense at all. So you have people getting all uptight over the way others’ dress and it’s not a matter of say, indecency or offensiveness, or anything, or you have people who are judgmental about all kinds of trivial things and get very cruel and divisive over these things.

Then funny thing is that I see this behavior in my daughter, or rather, I see the insecurity that she has, when we do things differently or ask her to do something differently or ask shy she did something a certain way, and it’s not even like we are at all judgmental or harsh. We are extremely respectful, open minded, understanding, positive, supportive parents and have always been and she is not around another negative input in that way. We are both weird, too, and not conformists in our ways of acting so she’s not learning that from us either, and we aren’t around anyone else who would affect her in that way.

I think it’s an instinct, to be overreactive to these things and insecure. I have been noticing behaviors like this among others too, and how people oftentimes seem to easily upset and disrupted in their beliefs, their feelings, and their attitudes, and the least little thing from others makes them feel insecure or offended or hurt or confused, and so that might explain why religions sometimes are so controlling and fixated on every little detail of peoples’ lives even when those rules don’t always make sense or work and aren’t even possible. And why some of these religious groups try to stamp out dissent and threaten you if you dare criticize anyone. Because they are scared the sense of unity and harmony and confidence will be disrupted and people will lose their fragile sense of confidence in the religions.

It’s repressive, but so are people’s mindsets and they can’t handle the least rocking the boat, and I on the other hand feel like I’m living in a stormy sea and my boat can’t not rock, but I don’t fit in with those who have to have all these rules. I have to make my own rules or guidelines. Maybe I do recall times in my life when I had a greater need for that kind of conformity and unity of identity and behavior with the others in my group, because I was so lost and confused but that was signal to me of what to do, what to think, what to believe and what to feel, when I was totally at a loss otherwise. But now I can’t do it anymore. My life demands a much more individualistic, outside the rules and lines approach. I would become extremely mentally ill or even lose my mind, and make myself miserable if I even tried to be so silent and conforming and so approving and positive to the things that cause m great harm and need to be spoken openly about, even if only in the privacy of a blog that is still not completely private, so I feel like I'm not suffocated into total submission and repression, as if my human life and reality did not need and deserve to be cared about or noticed and given a voice, among other humans.

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pearloftheorient · 5 years ago

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sorry to not be a fandom blog or roleplay blog for a moment. i just feel like i wanna express a bit of a heart-to-heart, just a quick rundown of whatever’s going on and how it all happened from my perspective. i mean i don’t even care if nobody reads this, but as someone who expresses a lot more in writing i feel like i should take this opportunity to help unload, you know?

so the lockdown definitely hit us here on friday the 13th in march, which didn’t feel as bad as it was. as a nurse i’ve had this weird concept that a lot of the common diseases that spread around can easily be blown up by social media (hold that thought for later lol) and i just you know, say you should just wash your hands, it’ll be okay. i mean i tend to take the logical route when it comes to health care?? because that’s what i studied and i feel like i owe it myself not to panic TOO MUCH. plus, my husband (an intellectual) also had the same attitude towards media being exaggerated, so like i’m copying his cool attitude as much as i can. i mean we even went to budapest just a week prior, watched a play, mingled with clusters and clusters of people..... and even though people already started wearing masks, i even make fun of them for wearing it wrong or just being quite excessive and wearing gloves in public (i still don’t like seeing gloves in public and if you’re a health care professional you might feel exactly the same way)....

and then they told me on that friday that all of the training days for the next three weeks that i have worked hard to set up, study for, book on rotas, juggled, invited speakers for (i’m a nurse-educator and i organise staff training as part of my job) are now to be stopped. my staff are now asking me about their learning opportunities, is the course gonna go on, and i feel a bit more responsible to give the correct information but i just don’t know where to get it??

then come monday, it was a whole different story again. since the non-clinical aspect of work has been indefinitely stopped, i am one of the people who had been expected to go back into the clinical area and handle patients (i mean i still do this despite my role, but i now have to do it more often). which was fine because handling patients is my happy place, i feel like it is within my remit, i know exactly what i’m doing most of the time, i have a smaller scale to tackle and that’s gonna ease my brain a bit while the world starts to fall into chaos. i’ve done this for the next few weeks. i did mostly clinical shifts, and just do some admin stuff like once a week?? just so i can keep up with the new developments and properly disseminate information, like what PPE are we gonna have, train people in wearing them, what we actually need to do if we get patients with COVID, crash courses for those who will be redeployed, cancelling and cancelling and cancelling study days and training days and finding multiple alternative ways so people still maintain standards despite not having the face-to-face training....

as a nurse-educator, i also feel like i should always watch the news and be aware of the latest guidelines, what WHO wanted us to do, how am i gonna apply this for my colleagues and the safety of our patients... so i’ve done that on a regular basis, and my brain is just filled with information and i actively help in setting up bedspaces with the initial instructions of what PPE to wear....

and then towards the end of march, people are dying. and the fact that it was building in numbers made it more real. and now i started to question what i already know, if we’re actually doing the right thing, but why do other countries do it differently?? why do other hospitals do it differently?? how come people are still on the street?? decisions from the government and the big execs just fluctuate and this trial and error approach just all of a sudden.....became the new normal.

and then we’re all like, but we just have to work together - since all of our non-clinical stuff had been on standby then we can just focus on working clinically, doing patient care. and then i was given the instructions to gather nurses from my unit (we deal with neonates - babies - like i personally haven’t got a clue on how adults work anymore as i haven’t handled one for like 15 years) who can be redeployed based on their previous experience. redeployment sometimes is viewed as heroic, like wow you’re brave to work in adults despite your rusty experience just for the sake of helping with the pandemic, that’s Great. and then to some, it is their worst nightmare, being redeployed is like being fish out of water - going back to square one, not knowing exactly what you’re doing (remember how i was so confident doing clinical?? yeah that’s only for neonates). and then the solidarity feel like, yeah but at least you’re not alone? we gonna support you?? you’ll get all the special messages, a round of applause, because you’re doing something so brave. i wasn’t redeployed, but six of my colleagues are - and every time they talk to me about how stressful it was and how scared they were being uncertain all the time and surrounded by death and suffering, i felt responsible for putting them in that position.

and then i started to feel sadder and sadder. but i can’t stop working, i am physically well, i am strong enough and i am a Great addition to the numbers. besides, with all this redeployment, we are also receiving some temporary replacements who simply had no idea how neonates work! (it’s like a full exchange programme but with little training) and it is my responsibility to make sure they are trained (i mean look, we all did LONG ASS courses to reach where we are in terms of knowledge, months and months of clinical exposure to the area to gain experience, but now i’m asked to train all of them for just ONE DAY.) and so after training, i’m like this mother duck chasing all the ducklings making sure nobody goes astray. so that was the first two weeks of my april.

it’s also when i decided to stop watching the news or looking at social media about the virus because i have enough stress going on, and i don’t wanna like sound so depressed whenever i’m teaching this new people that are coming to us. i have to be open and warm and welcoming and maintain a cheery attitude despite my patience running so infinitesimally thin. i’ve always been known for my calmness and patience. i may be an anxious bean but i’m quite good in not letting it show in my handiwork.

so i know that’s been stressful - but the good things, i am definitely thankful for. people stepping up, working hard and together with less animosity. the free food was overflowing, i don’t even have to bring lunch at work anymore because there’s always something, even fresh produce because tbh everything hurt after a hard day’s work that you can’t even go grocery shopping :p we had this really posh resto that gave us free breakfast every single day and normally in this resto you like have to make reservations at least 6months before to be worthy lol. despite the back and forth decision making, we do have the right equipment to do our work, and with the virus not usually affecting the little ones, we are not heaving as much in terms of the amount of patients. and just the love, the supportive messages, the rainbow drawings, the applause - i mean just wow.

i guess the more i’m fueled to work harder. and the fact that i get to keep my job when a lot of people had been furloughed or lost theirs, i just feel i have to make it count and continue helping in ways i know how.

i have just trained the last two nurses to come (so far) when i got called that my husband got sent home because he got ill. and he is a nurse too, looking after adult patients with covid so he is getting far more exposure than me.

by protocol, i am automatically self-isolated because of him. and so for the last week of april, we are on a full lockdown, with him on a sickbed and me trying to “work from home”

i am working from home and my colleagues continue to ask me questions about work, i write guidelines, mark essays, basically all the admin stuff i’ve stopped doing because i have been pulled into clinical numbers. i constantly dreaded how my husband will be - knowing the scary stories about how the virus treated some people and the rising number of deaths, especially among frontliners. he was fine and got better, thankfully. and then i fell ill that very weekend - and i became a full dramatic binch for a week because my fever and muscle weakness definitely prevented me from doing anything productive. (this is when i binge-watched the untamed lol)

but then we both got tested and we’re both negative lol. whatever the fuck that was surely knocked us down but thankfully it wasn’t covid WHICH MEANS we should go back to work sooner rather than later. yay. we’ve been off for a total of 10 days.

and then i returned to work last week, and i felt so exhausted. apparently it was a common theme from those who had symptoms or had self-isolated (even though i am negative) and i just felt like those 10 days despite spending them mostly in bed, i felt like i ran a marathon that entire time and now i’m paying the price.

i still feel tired now after 4 days of work, and i haven’t even been clinical (they gave me the benefit of the doubt that it might be FALSE NEGATIVE) so i haven’t handled patients YET and instead focused on my admin work - which welcomed with its spiky arms fuck that shit we just had the most dramatic cases at work that i had to deal with, and that’s not even covid-related. and so my brain was also like scraped to the core lol

so anyway, yeah i guess that got long.

i mean i still haven’t talked about what’s happening in the background at this point, like my family (they are okay! thankfully. and my mom is very paranoid which means they are always taking care of themselves lol), the government in where i live and where my family lives (lotsa fucked up things happening right now out there too, dammit i’m so sorry philippines), and all my future plans for 2020 that have now been shitted on by this virus, but let’s not get overly dramatic now.

idk i just feel like pouring stuff out because apparently that’s healthy for you.

stay safe. wash your hands. stay at home if you can. frontliners - and i’m just not talking about my fellow nurses - TAKE CARE AND STAY STRONG. AND THANK YOU. but don’t be an extra hero. wear PPE when you come face-to-face with potential risks. take breaks. know where to draw the line.

#garettext #corona virus //#negativity //#hospitals //

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cristinablackthornkingson · 6 years ago

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Kit Carstairs, Part 5.

It was a cold, icy day in London in the middle of December and Kit didn’t think he’d ever been so cold, even after 5 years, he still wasn’t use to the cold, dreary English weather.

A few days ago his parents told him that they were planning on going to London and taking Hazel and Jodie with them and showing them The Institute and Black Friars Bridge in specific, they asked if Kit would like to come too and he said yes instantly, he loved the idea of a family day out.

In the three years since Jodie was born, Tessa and Jem still had not decided on whether or not they wanted another baby, they were both secretly worried about what would happen if Tessa got pregnant again, seeing as her pregnancy and delivery with Jodie was extremely complicated, so they made sure to always use protection.

However a few weeks after Jodie’s third birthday, while Tessa, Jem, Kit and the girls were visiting everyone in LA, Brother Enoch- who had been there to give Tavvy his first rune- pulled Tessa aside and told her she was pregnant. She was utterly shocked, she had felt absolutely no symptoms, other than missing a period, but she had put that down to her body still being a bit out of sorts after Jodie was born, it can take a long time for everything to go back to normal.

She was scared and nervous, but mostly excited.

When Brother Enoch told Tessa of the pregnancy, she was only 2 months along, so she decided to wait until at least 3 months to tell everyone but Jem. Jem was thrilled at the idea of being a father again but was also very worried about Tessa and insisted that she have weekly check ups with The Silent Brothers. Tessa agreed, and each time Brother Enoch checked her and the baby over, everything was fine.

By the time Tessa was 3 months pregnant, she was still feeling mostly normal and well, she had some sickness and pain, but absolutely nothing like it was when she was pregnant with Jodie, and for that she was extremely grateful.

Hazel and Kit were thrilled to be getting another sibling, Hazel was desperately hoping for another sister, while Kit didn’t care if it was a boy or a girl, he was just delighted that he would be a big brother again. Jodie though, was not so happy, she was quiet jealous of the new baby and insistent that she didn’t want a brother or sister. Jem was quiet worried that Jodie would never warm up to the baby and would always resent her sibling, but Tessa knew this was just a phase, when Cecily was pregnant with Christopher, at first Anna absolutely hated the idea of having a brother, she constantly told anyone who would listen that she didn’t like her brother and wanted a puppy instead, but when Christopher was born, Anna’s jealously melted away and she adored her baby brother and was extremely protective of him all their lives, Tessa had no doubt Jodie would be the same with her little brother or sister.

Currently, Tessa was 9 months pregnant, she was due at the very end of December, still 3 weeks to go, and she had a feeling she would go overdue. Unlike Jodie, who had always measured a few weeks behind, this baby was always measuring a few weeks ahead, if they didn’t come soon before or after their due date, Tessa would likely have to be induced, or else she would have to have a C-section, which she would prefer not to, seeing as she already had 2 young children at home to look after, and recovery from a C-Section took a lot longer than recovery from a vaginal birth.

The little family were currently at Black friars Bridge, trying to explain to their girls how significant this place was for their mama and papa.

“Mama, can we go swimmin in the water?” Hazel asks her mother in a curious tone, looking from the water beneath the bridge, to her parents, from her spot on Kit’s back. She had been complaining that she was too tired to walk, and since Tessa couldn’t carry her while heavily pregnant, and Jem was carrying Jodie, Kit let her ride on his back, as she has always loved to do.

“No you absolutely can not.” Tessa says, shaking her head in dismay. She, Jem, Jodie and Kit were bundled up in coats, hats, scarves and gloves but Hazel would barely keep her coat on and now wanted to go swimming in the freezing ocean. She was so like William it was unbelievable.

“Why not?” Hazel asks in an upset tone.

“Because it’s absolutely freezing Hazel, if you went swimming in the ocean in this whether you would get very, very sick.” Tessa firmly explains to her daughter.

“Not fair!” Hazel exclaims. “Kit, you take me swimming?” She adds in a hopeful tone, knowing full well she had her brother wrapped around her finger, and he would do whatever she wanted him to do.

“If mom and dad said no, why do you think I would say yes?” Kit asks in an amused tone.

“Cuz you fun!” Hazel exclaims.

“Well that’s true, but I’m not taking you swimming in the ocean either, mom’s right, you’ll get really sick, it’s way too cold.” Kit patiently explains to his sister.

“Papa, this where you meet mama?” Jodie chimes in, looking up at her father with big brown eyes full of curiosity.

“No my love, mama and I met in The Institute where we use to live, but this is where I would come to see mama every year, when I was a Silent Brother.” Jem gently explains to his youngest daughter.

“And this is where we got married.” Tessa lightly says, looping her arm through Jem’s and resting her head on his shoulder. It was hard to believe that was 11 years ago, time was going far too quickly.

Not long after, they decide it’s time to head home, and portal back to Devon. Once at the house, Jodie and Hazel immediately rush off to play, shedding their coats, scarves and hats on the floor.

“You okay dad? You look lost in thought.” Kit asks, stepping up beside his father. Jem smiles lightly at his son and says

“I’m fine, just thinking about how lucky I am to have my beautiful family, I couldn’t love you all more.” Jem puts his arms around Tessa and Kit, pulling Tessa in for a brief kiss, before turning and planting a kiss on Kit’s forehead.

“Dad!” Kit exclaims in a horrified tone, pulling back from his embrace. He hated when Tessa or Jem kissed him like that, he was 20 now and found it very embarrassing, especially when they did it front of Ty, or Dru who would then tease him endlessly about it.

“Typical teenager.” Jem says in a light tone, patting Kit on the cheek.

“I’m not a teenager anymore.” Kit grumbles, pulling away from his touch.

“You’ve only been 20 for a few months, you’re still pretty much a teenager.” Jem says in a teasing tone.

“You’re so embarrassing.” Kit says, turning to hang up his coat. Jem shares a grin with Tessa and says

“I know, it’s my job as your dad!”

________________________________________________________________

It was now almost 3 A.M. and Tessa and Jem were both still awake, and had been for quiet some time, they had just been enjoying being together, talking to the baby, reading, and watching t.v. shows. They had chosen not to find out the sex of the baby this time around, but once again had chosen names. If they had another girl, they would name her Jade Cecily Carstairs, if they had a boy, they would name him William Henry Carstairs, after the man they both loved more than anything, and the man who was like a father to them.

Currently, they were watching The Handmaid’s Tale, one of Tessa’s favorite shows. Halfway through the episode, Tessa feels a sensation of warm water running down her leg.

“What the hell?” Tessa quietly says, lifting the blanket off her to see what was happening.

“Tess, you alright?” Jem asks in a tone of concern, pausing the show and looking at her with eyes full of concern.

“Uh, I think my water broke.” Tessa says in an unsure tone. The sheets were wet and so were her pants, the water was everywhere, but it made no sense, Brother Enoch said it was more than likely that Tessa would go over due and have to be induced, no one expected her to give birth before her due date.

“Are you sure?” Jem asks in a tone of shock.

“Y-yes, it can’t be anything else.” Tessa stammers, still quiet shocked herself.

“I’ll summon Brother Enoch and the midwife, and then call Catarina and ask her to take the girls.” Jem hurriedly says. Catarina was staying in Devon herself for a while, she had taken a temporary role at the local hospital to help a young Shadowhunter transition and conceal their angel blood. She had agreed to watch Hazel and Jodie when Tessa gave birth, and they were very grateful, of course Kit could have watched them, but Tessa and Jem felt more comfortable with the girls not being here for the birth of their brother or sister, in case anything went astray.

Tessa was greatly surprised when this delivery turned out to be her longest, usually labor got shorter with each child, and this being her fifth, she was expecting to labor for maybe one or two hours, but in total ended up laboring for almost 12 hours, this baby was not too eager to come out.

Finally, at 2:30 p.m., Tessa felt the baby slide from her body, followed almost immediately by a loud, sharp wail.

“Oh my god Tess! You did it, again! You are so bloody amazing, I am so proud of you.” Jem says in a tone full of joy, squeezing his wife’s hand and bending to kiss her forehead. He had never seen her in so much pain, and yet despite that, she managed to bring their baby into the world, he had no idea how she did it, but he was so proud of her and so amazed by her strength.

“Jem, boy or girl?” Tessa weakly asks, leaning her forehead against his. Jem quickly glances to the bottom of the bed where the baby was being cleaned up, and can’t help but gasp when he sees them.

“Tessa, it’s a boy.” He says in a soft tone. Both he and Tessa had been so sure they were having another girl, neither of them thought for a second that they would have a boy.

“Really?” Tessa breathes in a tone of shock.

“Yes, yes, he’s prefect Tess.” Jem says, just as Brother Enoch approaches and places the baby on Tessa’s chest.

Peering at her son, Tessa could’t help the tears of joy that started to flow, he looked so much like Jem, even more so than Jodie did. He had a few wisps of black hair, Jem’s pallor, bone structure and eye shape, all he got from Tessa were his mouth shape and nose shape.

“Oh he’s so perfect, hello William, my sweet baby boy, I love you so much.” Tessa whispers, pressing her lips to her baby’s forehead.

“He’s so perfect.” Jem says in a tone of awe, lightly brushing his hand over his son’s dark hair.

“He’s a mini you, it’s not very fair, both he and Jamie are the spitting image of their fathers, I literally grow them and make them in my body, and they come out looking like their father.” Tessa says in an amused tone. Jamie was a mini Will and now little William was a mini Jem, even Jodie and Hazel looked more like Jem than they did Tessa, only Lucie looked more like her mother than her father, but she didn’t mind of course.

Jem chuckles and kisses his wife’s cheek, slipping an arm around her and their son.

“I had been hoping this little one would look like his beautiful mama, but it seems the Carstairs genes are strong!” He says in an amused tone. Every time Tessa had been pregnant with his child, he had hoped the baby would look just like her, but each time they looked more and more like him, but of course he didn’t mind, Jem would never care about how his children looked, he would just always be thrilled to be their father.

A few hours later, once Jem and Tessa have had some private time with little Will and Tessa has rested and slept a bit, they have Kit and the girls come in to meet their brother.

“Oh my god, dad he really looks just like you!” Kit says in a tone of disbelief when he firsts sees his little brother. He thought it was astonishing how alike Jem and Jodie looked, she looked like a female version of her father, but Jem and Will were like twins, he bore hardly any resemblance to Tessa.

“He look like me!” Jodie happily exclaims, standing on her tiptoes to peer at her baby brother in her older brother’s arms.

“He sure does, do you love him now he’s here?” Tessa softly asks her daughter.

“Uh hu! He my baby!” Jodie exclaims.

“Oh he is?” Jem asks in an amused tone. Jodie gives him a very serious look and nods.

“Uh hu, my baby, my Will, love him.” She firmly says, softly stroking her brother’s cheek.

“What about you Hazel, what do you think of him?” Kit asks, looking at his sister who was snuggled up beside Tessa.

“Love him, but wanted notha sister.” Hazel quietly says.

“But having a brother is fun too, you love Kit.” Tessa gently says.

“And you get to boss him around.” Kit lightly says. Hazel’s mouth twitches up into a smiles and she says

“And I teach him bout my favorite toys!” Jodie had no interest in the same toys that Hazel did, whenever she tried to get her sister to play with her favorite toys (LOL dolls) Jodie would run off.

“That’s right, you can! And you can snuggle him like you did with Jodie,” Jem says.

“Mama, I hold him?” Hazel asks, looking up at her mother with pleading, grey eyes.

“Of course sweetheart, sit back against the headboard first okay?” Tessa gently says.

Once Hazel is settled back against the headboard, Kit carefully places Will in Hazel’s arms and helps her support his head.

“He so tiny.” Hazel says in a tone of awe, already having forgotten how small Jodie was, Will weighed a healthy 8 pounds 11 ounces, when Jodie was born she weighed a tiny 5lbs 10oz, even now she was still small and skinny for her age, and probably always would be.

“Jodie was a lot smaller.” Jem softly says, brushing Hazel’s hair back so it isn’t dangling in her brother’s face.

“I was?” Jodie asks in a curious tone.

“Yes, you were absolutely tiny, I use to be able to hold you in just my two hands.” Jem fondly says, remembering back to those early days with Jodie, he had been so terrified of holding her, she was so tiny and delicate, he was terrified he would hurt her.

“You were our miracle Jodie, you came early and I had a very hard time giving birth to you, we thought you would be very sick, but you were completely healthy.” Tessa gently explains to her daughter.

“I know mama, Uncle Will save me!” She exclaims.

“How do you know that?” Kit cautiously asks.

“Him tell me! He my friend, love him.” Jodie says.

“Do you see Uncle Will a lot, Jodie?” Jem asks. He never had any doubt that Will had been the one to save Jodie and Tessa and that he was looking out for all of his children, but he didn’t think he would show himself to Jodie.

“Uh hu, he tell me stories bout when you and mama lived in London!” Jodie exclaims.

“I see, well your Uncle Will loves you very much, and I’m very glad you talk to him and he makes you happy.” Tessa softly says. Nothing meant more to her than the fact that her children would know Will and would love him just as Lucie and Jamie loved Jem.

________________________________________________________________

It had been 3 days since Will was born, and currently Kit was keeping an eye on him for a few hours, while Tessa slept and Jem took the girls out of the house for a while. Will was asleep in his bassinet in the living room and Kit was in the kitchen making up bottles for him, so his mom could get all the rest she needed.

Once Kit has finished making the bottles, he heads back into the living room to check on his brother, only to see a tall man with wild ginger hair, dressed in old fashioned clothes, standing over Will’s bassinet. Another ghost, Kit just couldn’t away from them.

“Is this house freaking haunted or something?” He mutters to himself. Just then, the man turns his head and smiles at him.

“No your home isn’t haunted, your mother and father just have a lot of friends who passed on.” He says.

“Yeah I’ve learned that over the last few years, who are you?” Kit asks.

“Henry, Henry Branwell, and I must say you remind me very much of my boy, Matthew.” Henry says in a fond tone.

“I-I do?” Kit stammers.

“Yes, very much so, you look like him and you’re similar to him in how protective you are of your siblings, Matthew was so very protective of his two younger sisters, just as you are of your sisters and brother.” Henry tells him.

“Oh, so what are you doing here?” Kit asks.

“I wanted to see this little one, I am very honored that Tessa and Jem chose to give him my name as a middle name, there are so many others they could have chosen, Tessa’s brother for example, but they chose to give him my name and I am touched.” Henry softly says, turning his gaze back to the sleeping baby.

“Mom and dad said that you were always kind and good to them, I know you and your wife looked after my brother James for a few days when my mom had a miscarriage, it meant a lot to her that she didn’t have to worry about him seeing her in such a bad way and that she could grieve without worrying how it would affect him.” Kit explains. Henry smiles softly and says

“Charlotte had a miscarriage too, years after Tessa did, but at the time I couldn’t have imagined how much pain she and Will were in, they were the least deserving of something so awful, when Charlotte and I lost our baby, well I knew how Tessa and Will had felt, and it was the most awful feeling in the world.”

“I-I’m sorry.” Kit quietly says, not knowing what else he should say.

“Don’t be, I’m sorry for rambling, I should go now, you make sure your take care of your mother and father, you’re lucky to have them.” Henry firmly says, and then just like that, he’s gone.

Kit sighs softly and bends to pick up Will, who was beginning to stir and fuss, he was due a feed soon, and Henry’s presence probably woke him too.

“There’s my boys.” Kit hears Tessa softly say. He turns his head to see her standing in the living room doorway, still in her pajamas, smiling softly at Kit.

“Mom, shouldn’t you be in bed?” Kit asks.

“I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to come spend some time with my boys.” Tessa says, walking over and kissing Kit on the cheek, before bending to kiss Will’s forehead.

“How are you feeling?” Kit asks.

“Still sore but I’m feeling better everyday, recovering much faster than I did with Jodie.” Tessa says, lowering herself onto the sofa.

Just then, the door opens and Hazel and Jodie comes rushing in, with Jem behind them.

“Mama!” Jodie squeals, running and jumping onto the sofa beside Tessa, Hazel not far behind her.

“Hi my babies.” Tessa softly says, putting an arm around each of her daughters. “Did you and daddy have fun?” She asks.

“Uh hu! But miss you, mama.” Hazel softly says, snuggling into her mother.

“I missed you too my babies.” Tessa says, pressing a kiss to both their heads.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” Jem asks, lifting Hazel and setting her in his lap as he takes a seat next to Tessa.

“I couldn’t sleep so I came up to spend some time with my boys.” Tessa softly says, smiling softly at Kit, who was sitting across from her on the armchair, with Will still in his arms.

“Well the girls and I timed our arrival well then, now we can spend some time as a family.”Jem says, looking around him at all 4 of his kids and his beautiful wife. As he looks at his two sons together, and his two daughters snuggled into their mother, for the first time in his life, Jem feels complete.

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bluethornefics · 6 years ago

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Goretober Drabble - Barbed Wire

In which Reboot Vergil learns a little bit more about what a fate worse than death entails. Set during the Downfall DLC.

I am very sleepy, but I thought doing a little Goretober stuff would make for some fun practice. Warnings in this one for moderate blood, gore, and some eye trauma. But not to ReVergil. He’s doing about as well as he can in this.

I may have taken some liberties with headcanons and things, but shhhh, it’s fine.

~2k words

I’d always heard about people falling into Hell. Just falling. No one ever made mention of all the pushing that happened to cause that. The next time I saw Dante, I would give him a taste of what it was like to have Rebellion shoved through his chest.

First I had to find a way out of wherever the hell I’d wound up this time. Hell needed fewer glowing warp doors and more signs and maps. Following the path of the doors hadn’t necessarily led me astray up to that point, but I never felt certain I would land where I needed to be.

Every new door I stepped from brought me to a plane that was nothing like the last, yet they were all twisted in much the same way. Hell was all fragments suspended in air and nauseating colors. The worst were the planes where distant screams and pleas filled the air.

But this was Hell, after all. I was only surprised I didn’t see more suffering.

I didn’t see much of anyone.

Just Dante.

I had seen Kat, but she was gone now.

I wasn’t sure if seeing myself counted.

The demons certainly didn’t count. I was getting damn tired of running into them. I couldn’t go ten feet without a swarm of the bastards appearing, and every swing of my sword against them felt like a hook had snagged into my wound and pulled along the length of my arm.

I was so tired of pain.

Through yet another door - I’d lost track of my path ages back - a new breed of demon greeted me along with a distant chorus of wails. I supposed it was different anyway. It wore a different mask than I’d seen before and carried chains, but it was weak and died screaming like those it must have tormented. Demons were all so pathetic.

I saw no reason to seek out any of the distant voices. I had my own pain to manage, and it was their own damn faults if they’d been trapped. They deserved their fates. But I would not be so weak. Dante would fall by my hand. He would suffer and bleed just as I had. Let him beg, even. I would have loved to hear it, the whimpering, the realization that he had nothing left. God, I would savor that.

“A smile like that isn’t a good sign. You mustn’t let this place get to you, Vergil.”

My steps froze, my spine rigid. Yamato was in-hand before I had even registered the meaning of the words, spoken in such a rasp that no tone touched them.

If the thing hadn’t spoken, I wouldn’t have glanced twice at it, wouldn’t have acknowledged that it had any sort of human form. With all the barbed wire strung up around it and in it, it looked more like a hunk of fleshy meat held there. Wire laced through its throat, hands, legs, cheeks, and was even buried into a mushy, glistening mess that should have been an eye. The thing must have been there for some time because skin had grown over some of the barbs. The slight movement of its breathing had torn open wounds along its chest where the wire threaded through stark ribs. So much old, dried blood covered it that the new blood looked like nothing but a fresh coat of paint.

Perhaps I should have called it a he, but it was a demon. That much was obvious from the crooked horns that stemmed from black hair matted with blood. It had a tail as well. Pale and reptilian, it was longer than I was tall. Iron spikes pinned it to the ground, the only part of the demon not suspended by the wire.

“You know my name,” I said, my eyes narrowed. Even with the demon clearly immobile, I raised Yamato between us. This made it laugh, though the sound was strangled like a dying engine.

“Of course I know your name. I gave it to you.”

As though he’d lunged at me, I fell a step back. “Lies,” I hissed because it was all I could think. He was some trick, some illusion. I pressed Yamato’s tip up under his chin, but he smiled enough that the barbs sliced him a more wicked grin.

“Are you going to torture me or kill me? I can assure you I’ve been through worse than anything you could do, Son.”

“Don’t you dare call me that! My father was damned to the deepest pit of Hell. There’s no reaching him. Don’t think you can fool me-”

“You’ve fallen far.” His smile faded, sorrow filling his eye. “You still have some life in your blood. You can still escape if you keep fighting. I don’t know what fate befell you, but it seems you’ve suffered greatly. I-”

“It was your fault!” The anger hit me like a bullet train. If this bastard wanted to pretend to be my father, then so be it. The fool must have thought I still had some love for that demon. No, my father was worse than Kat, worse than Dante. Burying Yamato in his shoulder, I felt the satisfying crackle of his bones shattering under the blade. He didn’t flinch, didn’t make a sound. That just made my anger burn brighter, so I dragged Yamato down along his arm, snapping the hold of wire wound around it. The barbs tore through him as they unraveled. “You separated us,” I continued. “It’s your fault. If we’d been together, he would have understood. He would have listened to me.” But it didn’t matter anymore. He’d picked his side. He was nothing to me now - just like this demon pretending to be my father - just another demon to slaughter.

“Then something happened between you and Dante,” he said. “I see. You’re right. I shouldn’t have separated you. I thought you would both be safer that way, but it seems not.”

“Dante will be safe in death soon enough,” I spat.

His eye narrowed in on me, and for a moment, the simple gesture made me feel as though I were the one strung up and sliced open for him to see. “Hm, one of them has its claws in you. I will accept your rage. Kill me or torture me as you wish, but do it under your own influences, not some bastard Hollow’s.”

Before I could bite that this was my will, that I’d lain awake night after night in the orphanage despising him even when I didn’t remember anything about him, his ruined arm shot out and wrenched Yamato from my grasp. Such a quick, effortless action, he could have slit my throat before I even realized the blade was out of my hand.

Instead, he slashed the wires suspending him and dropped to his knees. His feet were far too weak to catch him. “What a pain,” he sighed as I took slow, retreating steps. My eyes flashed over him in search of the best method to retrieve Yamato. He was already a mess. If I just knocked him down-

“Here, you can have this back.” He held the grip out to me. “It won’t do me much good from here. Give me a moment. This might be a little messy.”

I couldn’t think of what else to do, so I took Yamato back and watched as he gripped the wire piercing his cheek. With a sharp tug, he ripped a long string of it free of where it had trailed down into his throat. It was coated a pure red, and wet hunks of something clung to the barbs. I couldn’t look beyond that, but the sounds were enough to churn my stomach.

His every breath gargled, the wire scraped along his bone, and each segment came free with a wet squelch. I thought I was beyond finding much of anything sickening, but the air was a bit too warm.

“Maybe you should sit a moment. You’re looking quite pale. Well, paler than usual anyway.” He had a voice again, a haggard but warm tone that burned my mind with recollections of strange bedtime stories and too-soft scoldings. “Sorry about all that. I do wish you could have seen me on a day when they were feeling a little less creative.”

“They?” I echoed, my voice a whisper.

“Oh yes, my torturers. You killed the latest batch, actually. I do appreciate that.”

When I managed to drag my eyes back toward him, I found him testing the spikes in his tail. His wounds were already mending on their own. The winged brand on his back glowed without any sword in its center. He kept his left eye closed, though.

“Are you really him?” I asked. “Sparda?”

“The one and only,” he said through gritted teeth as he yanked the first spike free. “Well, actually, it’s not an uncommon name, really.” He wrenched another spike free. “Ah, my poor tail. They’re lucky they died by your hand. I would have given them much slower deaths.”

I felt like I’d taken a blow to the head. “You were supposed to be impossible to reach. Mundus trapped you beyond help.”

“My boy, you are in much deeper than you seem to realize.” After tearing each spike free with little more than a wince, he stood and faced me. His brow furrowed at the sight of my chest. Every logical part of my mind screamed at me to run or fight as he pressed his filthy hand over my heart, but I could not bring myself to move. “I always knew that nephilim could not live a life free of suffering, but it still pains me to know you’ve been through so much. I wish I could have given you a better life.”

He spoke of my pain as though it was far worse than the years of unfathomable torture he’d experienced. A laugh bubbled from my throat. “Father, you had wire down your throat. I practically cut your arm in half. How could this be anything to you?”

“Because it is you.” His eye rose to meet mine. It was blue as the hottest burning flame and just as scorching. “I have never mattered. My body, my life, they are worthless, but you are my son. You are all that I am worth and all that I have left. You are all that matters to me.” His hand pressed firmer to my chest, but no pain came. Only the warmth of his palm. “And your heart breaks so easily.”

“Dante did this,” I whispered.

“Then Dante shall mend it.” Pain filled his smile. “You two were always fighting. How many times did I have to call a truce?”

“Father, you don’t understand-”

“I understand that I’ve got some Hollows to rip in half. Ugh, I can smell them all over you.” His nose wrinkled. “I fucking hate those things. Apologies for the language.”

“Hollows?”

His tail swam up to coil around my arm, gentle as his touch had been, but I could tell it was a leash to keep me from wandering as he started off toward the glow of the next door. “Yes, there’s much to do, my boy. I’d rather like to find some new clothes too. And a shower! I don’t think I’ve ever missed anything as much as bathing. But first, those Hollows. Do not worry. I will take care of them for you.”

I should have been annoyed at him treating me like a child again. I should have wrenched myself away and told him off. Trusting someone again was foolish. It could only end in more suffering, and yet, walking at his side was such a relief that even the ache in my chest eased.

Even if it was all a lie, at least for now I didn’t have to sink deeper into Hell alone.

#dmc: devil may cry #teeny tiny terrible fics #this is a very weird drabble but it's mostly just for description practice and fun so sue me

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aint-ashes · 8 years ago

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Let’s talk about Eugene: Chapter 2

I’m back! If you were in agony waiting for this chapter, I apologize for taking so long. I hope this is worth the wait. Fair warning: it’s p long. Here goes nothing:

At the start of season 6, Eugene has cleared the air both with himself and with Abraham, having apologized for lying to him and thanking him for his help. Eugene’s character definitely has an air of new beginnings: season 6 is a clean slate. It’s also one of the most exciting development arcs that Eugene undergoes.

But before we delve into that, there’s an important question that needs to be addressed: what has Eugene lost?

In the last post, I broke down the moments that exposed Eugene’s lie to himself: that he is a coward. After saving (or making decisions with the intent to save) the entire run team from Alexandria, we saw Eugene undergo a critical change. We saw him leave the coward behind and become the survivor that was in him all along.

We know a bit of what he’s gained from seeing himself clearer, but he was telling this lie to himself for a reason. So, what did the coward act do for him?

For one, living in fear has kept him on his toes. It’s kept him painstakingly alert to his surroundings. It’s kept him alive. Although we don’t see Eugene until post-outbreak, I can only assume that he survived by hiding, running, and/or relying on more capable people. What I know is that he did not survive by fighting. Cowardice was his handgun, his crossbow, his sword.

Our own nature is one of the hardest things to change about ourselves. We often warn others about it: I’m grumpy in the mornings, I’m awful at keeping secrets, I’m bad at expressing my emotions, it’s just who I am. That explanation—or excuse—allows us to accept these imperfections in ourselves, and leaves it up to others to behave accordingly: don’t talk to her in the mornings, don’t trust him with secrets, don’t expect her to be sympathetic, that’s just who they are. If others don’t behave accordingly, well, however you behave toward them is their fault. You warned them. That’s how we tend to cope with these faults.

And this is exactly what the Coward did for Eugene. Considering himself a coward entitled him to act in cowardly ways. Ways that he wouldn’t naturally be okay with. It also made it easier to not be disappointed in himself when he resorted to such acts—he could always tell himself that’s just who he is.

But, there are times when we see a crack in this façade. Take 4x15, for example, when Eugene leads Rosita to the other side of the tunnel to save Glenn and Tara. When Rosita calls him a liar for leading her astray, Eugene says: “Nope. I never said otherwise.”

When she insists that their priority is getting Eugene to safety, he says: “after I save the world, I still have to live with myself.”

Not only do I appreciate the beautiful irony of this entire exchange, filled to the brim with both lies and truths, but I also recognize how much it tells us about Eugene—that no matter how he tries to defend himself, even he isn’t sold on this act being justified, neither the scientist act (the lie he told others), nor the coward act (the lie he told himself).

He knows that there are consequences to his lies, and that they directly affect others’ lives. And he knows that’s not okay, which is why he tries to minimize that impact. But he still allows a total of nine people to die in the vain belief that he could save lives if they were willing to risk theirs.

When Eugene admits to his lie in 5x5 (“Self Help”), it was at the culmination of these deaths and the close call of nearly killing five more of his friends in the church bus. It was in the heat of a moment that all his guilt, everything that he was carrying on his shoulders, finally burst forth. After a long internal struggle with the justification of this lie, Eugene could no longer accept that that’s just who he is.

Aside from the joke within the episode, I think the title “Self Help” says a lot about what’s going on with Eugene in that episode. The coward-and-scientist double-act was a form of self-help at the expense of others, obviously, but coming clean and facing himself for the first time was also self-help. By taking that first step toward giving up the coward, he took the first step toward becoming who he really is. Who he didn’t think he could be.

Up until “Spend”, Eugene valued in himself what he thought others would value in him—his knowledge. His ability to make things. He honed in on these skills in order to survive, just as we would cater our résumé to a specific job posting. But we see again and again that knowledge is not what Eugene admires in other people—it’s loyalty, it’s bravery, it’s sacrifice. And once he casts the coward aside, he is able to focus on these qualities in himself.

But I digress. Long story short: the Coward kept him alive. The Survivor allowed him to live with himself. Keep that in mind, because we’ll come back to this in season 7.

I want to talk about season 6 Eugene! I’m going to cover 6x1 to 6x7 in this chapter. It might be a bumpy ride, so please fasten your seatbelts and hold on to your mullets. It’ll be fun, I promise!

In 6x1, Eugene’s most important moment is seeing Tara awake and well. He rushes to her bedside, speechless, smiling. He’s not about to brag that he saved her, but he is seeing a direct consequence of his actions. He stepped up, he faced his fears, and this moment of walking through the door and seeing her awake (“holy shit,” he says) makes every second that he was afraid worth it.

Being brave paid off. He did it, and it mattered. Tara’s alive, Tara’s awake, Tara’s okay. And the fact that he was able to save her the same way that she’d saved him so many times must feel so, so good. We can see it plain and clear on his face.

And Eugene’s probably not thinking about it then, but the fact remains that those nine people died on the journey to keep him alive—and saving someone as good, loyal, and brave as Tara is the beginning of his post-apocalyptic life being worth something after that. He’s beginning to pay that debt back. He’s beginning to come into his own. Tara being alive is the sign he needed that he’s now on the right path. What a huge moment.

Aside from gracefully enduring a bit of humility (Denise’s comeback about whether or not he’s a doctor), 6x2 “JSS” is a pretty big episode for Eugene. He’s on screen for probably two minutes in total, but the lengths that his character travels in those two minutes is kind of amazing.

The Wolves begin their ambush on Alexandria while Eugene is in the infirmary with Tara and Denise. When the truck crashes and the Wolves invade, it isn’t long before Aaron. Eric, and Rosita rush Holly inside. She is horribly wounded. They drop Holly off on the operating table, and everyone able-bodied rushes outside to fight the Wolves. Even Tara, who isn’t able-bodied, wants to help. Eugene, who is, does not. When Denise tells Tara to stay and guard the infirmary, she does, reluctantly. Eugene insists:

“I also believe my services would be best rendered right very here.”

Okay. At this point, Eugene would be useless in a combat situation with other living people. His services are best equipped to the infirmary. But for the most part, this was a decision made in fear. You can see it in his face. I’m not convinced that if he had been anywhere else—in his own house, for example—that he would risk his life to get to the infirmary where he could best be of help to others.

Eugene will help because he can, but the offer isn’t selfless—he’s making a case to the others: I should stay inside. I should stay safe. Don’t make me risk my life with you. And, once again, his knowledge allows him to do that.

So he’s not ‘knight-in-shining-armor’ brave. Yet. Still, though the decision was fear-based, I don’t see it as cowardly, per say. Eugene doesn’t lock himself away. He doesn’t hide. He was allowed the grace of staying inside, and that’s as safe as he can get, so even with the threat imminent, he immerses himself in helping Denise to help Holly. And that’s it’s own kind of bravery. Remember, he’s in the transition between what he called stages one and two. He’s becoming a survivor. He’s not quite there yet.

Thank goodness that he was in the right place at the right time. Being in the infirmary allowed Eugene to be afraid, but still do something with the amount of courage he could muster up.

I’m afraid that if he had been hiding away alone somewhere, unable to do anything other than keep himself safe, it might set him back a few paces. Not only would he be more afraid, but possibly guilty. He might consider his bravery at the warehouse a once-in-a-lifetime phenomenon. In his self-criticism, he might slip back into his defensive mindset: just as I thought, I am a coward.

But he didn’t. The stars were aligned to move him forward.

While helping Denise during the attack, Eugene has a really important moment of self-awareness.

In her fear of being unable to save Holly, Denise falters and hesitates. She argues with Tara in an attempt to justify inaction by saying that she isn’t a surgeon, regardless of the fact that she had planned to be one. Tara won’t have it. She says:

“You’re afraid? I don’t care! Help her! Try! Help her!”

Still, Denise hesitates. That is, until Eugene steps up and says, on the verge of tears:

“You don’t want to be a coward. I know.”

There is so much packed into these two sentences: If you don’t step up now, you’ll regret it. You’ll hate yourself. I know, because I did.

I mean, honestly, Eugene has probably done the math at this point. He probably knows Holly’s chances of survival down to the hundredth of a percent. He probably knows it’s hopeless. But sometimes miracles happen. Sometimes people are safely reunited in walker-filled tunnels. Sometimes a small group of people can single-handedly take down a cannibal empire, gagged and bound.

Sometimes the coward steps up and saves lives. Sometimes a coward turns out to be a brave man, against all odds. And there’s a life on the line, so every hundredth of a percent chance that Holly can be saved is worth it.

Tara is brave, and she’s not the one holding Holly’s life in her hands. She’s right to tell Denise to try, but at this flustered moment, she’s being pretty aggressive. Because there’s a life on the line, she has no room or time to be understanding of Denise’s reservations.

But Eugene understands. When he faces Denise, his voice is soft, calm albeit shaky, and filled to the brim with empathy.

Tara’s the one who brought Eugene to his feet when the church bus broke down. Now, he sees someone like him in need of the same help. This is Eugene’s own “I know it sucks and it’s scary, but it’s time to be brave.” And it’s his words that put Denise into action. His understanding. His bravery to admit that he was wrong, and to save someone from making the same mistake.

Several aspects of this episode propel Eugene toward the moment in which we see him next (6x7, “Heads Up”): Witnessing the death of Holly. Seeing the bodies in the streets when all is over and done with. Encouraging Denise to be brave. Being unable to help outside, or to defend himself if it had come to that. And this self-realization that he doesn’t want to be a coward, and that he has control over that.

With all of this weighing on his shoulders, Eugene attends weapons training with Rosita. He wants to learn to fight. He wants to be able to defend himself. He wants to be able to defend others. So he makes the decision. He takes his transition from stage one to two into his own hands.

He’s still hesitant and unsure of himself, however, and Rosita (as usual) is having none of it. When she asks him what he’s afraid of, Eugene says: “that would be dying.” She answers:

“Dying is simple, it all just stops. You’re dead. The people around you dying, that’s the hard part. Okay? ‘Cause you keep living knowing that they’re gone and you’re still here. What you should be scared of is living knowing that you didn’t do everything you could to keep them here.”

This is really Eugene’s first taste of the negative consequences of being a survivor. All he’s ever wanted is to stay alive, but I don’t think the price of that has ever really occurred to him. He’s felt guilty about those nine lives that were lost in the attempt to keep him safe, but he considered that a loss on their part—not on his.

But more and more, Eugene is considering these people his family. He is putting their well being on an equal level with, if not above his own. This is his first introduction to what Beth essentially said to Daryl: “When you care about someone, hurt is kind of part of the package.”

He doesn’t have to cope with that hurt, yet, but Eugene will carry that with him all the way to and through season 7.

In the next chapter, I’m gonna talk about Eugene’s tough welcome to stage two in episodes 6x8 (“Start to Finish”) through 6x16 (“Last Day on Earth”).

I don’t have final exams to worry about anymore, so hopefully there won’t be as much of a time lapse between chapters. Please come back for more! I love talking about Eugene, but I love it even more when others love it too. xxx

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

#the walking dead #Eugene Porter #eugene #twd #mine

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amc589-blog · 7 years ago

Text

Story Time...

Lord, what do You want me to say?

First of all, I acknowledge the Creator. Without the presence of the maker of existence itself, I could not have made it here. With that said, I only desire to share what is necessary according to the Holy Spirit.

The nature of this post ranges from confession to testimony and all over. Most importantly, I desire for this story to lead others to a hope.

I wish to share an extremely recent testimony. Within the last couple of days, I have reached a breaking point, or a breakthrough. I am not sure how it should be recognized. God has placed the steps in my path so perfectly. I can’t even say that I see all of the work being done. My hope in revealing this story is to lead others to the point everyone must reach: repentance. I cannot honestly say that I believe I am even to that point. I have spoken the words and confessed my sins, but until I meet the need of hating my sin, I do not think that a true turn has occurred.

Background: I have been on a constant battle of getting on and off of a roller coaster. On this ride there is lust, flesh, selfishness, pride, all things sinful. Specifically, these passions include pornography, fornication, alcohol and other “small” sins that have effected me more than I have given them credit for. Starting at 14, when I gave away my physical purity, I decided to go on a path that would begin a journey leading me here today. I had committed the one sin I said I would never, could never give into. That evening, I awoke in the middle of the night. I found myself sitting in the bathroom, half asleep, and I felt the atmosphere drop. There was empty space surrounding me. God had stepped out. Of course He was still there, but I was not in His presence. It is nearly impossible for me to relive this moment fully because it was so extreme. There is no other time I have ever been closer to hell. When I allowed myself to follow through with that act, I basically told God that I would be following my own regulations from then on. I would label this absence: anxiety, which led to depression. I went through seasons of uncontrollable crying and loss of emotion. Whether I was put on medication that made me numb or I would quit my meds and go insane. My heart was lost and so was I.

At 17, I repented for the first time, truly. I fell on my face and cried out to God. I have had moments like this recently, but not as extreme as the moment I am referring to. I hated everything that I had done and everything I had become. Everyone surrounded me with support and we were all headed in the same direction. We were running after eternal matters. I had community. Eventually, the high faded and we all wanted our own desires. We did not have anyone discipling us, so we reverted back to what mattered to us: ourselves. I had so much freedom, having freshly divorced parents, a vehicle, license and a job. I made more friends at work, mostly bad influences. Some, we will discuss later. The drinking started, the fornication grew, the selfishness exploded. All of these things were expanding, as well as, my anxiety and depression. I saw the link. I knew they were related, but I just could not seem to turn. Why? I know now, exactly why: community. I was surrounded with what seemed fun with all the temporary satisfaction.

Silver lining: Not all of my influences at work were bad. In fact, they were the ones God placed directly in my path to lead my to where I am today. My first “friend” at work was assigned to me to get me into the atmosphere. The first day we met, he invited me to a bible study at a local church. I went and met a girl. She also worked with us. In fact, she and I had the same shift in different departments. She “bugged” me every week. “See you at Microchurch?” With my so very lame response, “Yeah. I’ll be there,” said with the blandest face that could kill a soul. I continued going to this group until I had reached a point of joy that I did not think still existed. I could not explain how uncontrollably happy, excited, crazy, I was. I knew that I could still turn back. I stopped going out with my other friends from work. I acted differently and spoke about very different topics.

Skip ahead 4 years later to 2017 and those two people, along with many others have become my family. They are no less to me than my blood related family. I love them more than I ever thought anyone could love another human. They are my community and my guidance.

That being said, this is the story...

Here in the last few months, I had begun to give in to small temptations. I had started to hang out with some old friends from my original community who fell away; they were still fallen away. I would call them up when I felt like rebelling. I wanted to go out and drink, fornicate, etc. I am the world’s best actor because no one in my community had any idea. How would they. We are together all the time, living a life for the Glory of God, I attend a Christian University. How would they ever know? Until some of my secrets surfaced. It was after a bible study that a very, very close friend of mine was swiping through my pictures. Uh oh...we can see where this is leading. He knew. He knew. He knew I was in something I shouldn’t be. Maybe he didn’t approach me because he thought maybe it was something from a long time ago. Maybe he believed my lie of an explanation that was so bogus. Nonetheless, we move on to a few weeks down the road. He and I are hanging out when I get a text from a random number that says something worth hiding, so as soon as he glances at my screen, i snatch my phone and hide the notification. Knowing my password, he steals my phone and attempts to read it, but does not out of respect.

That previous weekend, I had gone out with friends, got drunk and ended up making some rather poor decisions. Unfortunately, that wasn’t even the source of the text. That was from another source that I had attained. As always, my decision led me to anxiety. My anxiety led me to take old prescriptions which caused some awful physical side effects that landed me in the ER. I truly believe he knew something was up then, also. With full intentions to make an appointment with my Christian Counselor and confess all my sins, as well as, attempt to analyze why I was choosing such things and how to prevent this, God had other plans. He placed, yet, another wonderful human in my life to get my out of such a ridiculous pit and path to hell. I had written a self-analysis in my notes on my phone to give to my counselor. I allowed my friend to read it and he realized he had to do something.

We went for a walk...

On this walk, we discussed my decisions and what made them my choice. It was determined that my influences outside of our circle were not leading me on the right path. Due to my weakness and ease of giving in to peer pressure, I would never be able to be around these people without falling away. I had to be honest with myself. They had to go. So, I made them go. I removed them from all social media platforms, I blocked their phone numbers, I blocked their parents and close relatives and friends, I erased all photos of them from my phone and got rid of their contacts. I gave them no warning and I still have no idea what they are thinking at this point. One minute I am texting them in our group text. The next, I am never speaking to them again, or at least, a very long time.

After the walk, we went back to the house. I confessed all that I had been up to and we prayed. I repented aloud. We discussed some new commitments I would have to make, including removing these negative influences. I wanted to lead them to Jesus, but I had only become a stumbling block in their path. I had to leave them to their sins and allow God to take over.

I cannot say that it was hard to cut these people off. I am sure it will settle in eventually. These were my best friends in high school; people I never thought I would say goodbye to. But I wasn’t loving them. I was leading them astray. One day i would be on fire for the Lord, telling them all about scripture and so on, the next, we were out partying and doing what we always used to do. For the sake of their souls, I had to release them.

The Lord calls us to make decisions that are not always something we ever imagined, but they are worth the leap. I know that because of my rebellion, I will be faced with affliction. I will be tested, but I must endure with the Holy Spirit. I must come to God. I must live a life of repentance.

“2 Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.”

Matthew 3:2

“28 Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. 29 Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30 For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

Matthew 11:28-30

God, lead us to hate our sin. Show us how awful and terrible it truly is. Please give us the sense of disgust when we desire to follow our flesh. Do not allow us to stray. Guide us to your path. Reveal to us how we love and follow you.

Thank you for your peace, love and faithfulness.

We praise you alone.

Amen.

#repent #sin #forgiveness #love #god #jesus #hope #inspiration

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roadswim-collective · 7 years ago

Text

Birds Hell (Reprise): The Book of Job

Extracted from Transcript C

Right, let's have a go of this one.

(Inhales from e-cigarette, coughs)

God help, that is harsh.

(Coughs, spits, laughs)

What the hell was that again? Lychee and Raspberry, for god's sake.

(Blows nose, clears throat)

Think I'll go back to the bloody Zestappeal. Anyway, where was I? Christ knows. Oh yeah, so car parks, right? Twice in my life I've been sat on the ground at the edge of a hospital car park, totally brainshot and unable to move. Once was when my brother died, back in 1987, in the old East Glam Hospital, and I was fifteen. Twice was a little while ago at the new Royal Glam Hospital when those birds scared me and all the cars were dead. And what these two car parks taught me was this, right?

When everything's gone wrong and fuck all makes sense, if your brain is smart and knows what's good for it, what it'll do is try to ignore everything. It'll try to get you back to your distractions ASAP, whatever they are. It'll say, hey so life's got no inherent meaning but you invest it with your own meaning and basically just seize the day, have fun and be kind. (Laughs) Oh, and it'll also do that if it's a particularly thick brain. (Coughs) Yeah...and...then it'll get all obsessive over some hobby or other. According to the tastes it was brought up to enjoy, you know. Like golf, or fucking, or politics. Maybe faith, religious faith, that's an old favourite, right? (Sniggers)

But my brain, for some reason, this is what I learned in those car parks, doesn't do that. Distractions don't work, they don't distract. Stupid thin things they all seem, stale, flat, and useless. And everything is just a distraction really, every possible thing, love and pleasure, all just a distraction from this truth I'm drowning in right now. My brain, in those car parks, just goes numb and I start to see things in the landscape beyond the perimeter fence and I just don't know where or what I am.

Actually, I remember this Jehovah's Witness who came round the house one day, a few years ago now, and she was on the doorstep, you know, and I can rarely resist shooting the shit with them when they knock. I think they see me as a challenge. I usually talk about the Book of Job. Because that doesn't exactly show the non-existent bastard in the best light, does it?

I mean...(Laughs) it's all about God gambling with the Devil over the soul of the best man on earth, right? They have a bet and the stakes are this poor fella's eternal soul. Which is fucked up for a start, right? Because if He's God, and God is Love, then why did the bugger take the bet? Not very loving, that, is it? Kind of suggests the whole thing is just a game to Him, right?

Anyway, the Devil says, look here now, Jehovah, show me the best and most righteous man on that beloved planet of yours, and I bet I can get to him so bad that he ends up cursing you, his Lord God.

And what does our loving shepherd tell the Devil? Does He tell him, mate, fuck off, you're being a dick...(Coughs) and anyway, I've got a duty of care here, so no way, no bet, no deal. Back to the infernal realm with you, old son.

No, he says game on.

Knowing full well the kind of shit He's letting Job in for, right, all the delicious death and disease and disaster the Devil has in store.

Game on.

And this is just to win a bet, mind.

(Yawns)

The funniest bit is the ending though. When God's righteous man, reduced by now to a toothless, hairless, multi-bereaved tramp with these pulsating buboes all over his body, sitting in the ditch where his home used to be, when poor old Job finally dares to raise the slightest, most timid, respectful little question to some sympathetic friends as to what the point is of all this devastation, down comes God Himself. There He is, right next to them, in the form of a whirlwind. He's come to talk to the bloke who's wondering why his life has so spectacularly fallen apart. And what does He do?

(Laughs)

What He does is He gives Job the most almighty bollocking for even thinking such a thing. And I mean like a really enormous bollocking. A god-sized bollocking. Makes it clear to Job in no uncertain terms that he doesn't even get to ask that question. That what's it all about, eh? that everyone asks at some point in their lives, usually when the shit's hit the fan. Don't even dare to wonder what it's all about, says God, only I know that, you're so tiny and bloody mortal, I can crush mountains, so I guess you'd better just STFU.

It's true, check it out yourself, Book of Job, in between Esther and Psalms.

And to back it up, He goes on and on, for two whole pages right, about what a massive big God He is, how incredibly powerful and mighty, how He made everything, and how He holds up the sky and moves the stars and fills every fathom of every ocean (Bellows) so how could you possibly expect to know what my plan is, puny mortal!

And He's a real sort of alpha male arsehole about it too, at one point boasting about His big dangerous monster pets, Leviathan and Behemoth, and talking about how He hooks them through the lips and drags them around on chains. Now that sounds all too bloody familiar, dunnit? Like, 24-year-old Lee from Clydach swaggering around with his pitbulls, Tyson and Facefucker. The god version of that syndrome, right?

And all the time this Jehovah thug is all up in poor old Job's pustulent, ruined, human face, giving it all the sarcastic questions routine, I wonder if you could drag sea monsters around on chains? I wonder if you could hold up a mountain, eh? EH?

So that's essentially God's answer to Job, his answer to the question of why a loving God allows suffering in the world. And the answer is because shut the fuck up, that's why.

Hallelujah!

(Coughs, inhales more nicotine vapour)

And I mean, yeah, God does magic back Job's stuff in the end, his house and all his sheep and that, and he does clear up his boils for him and gives him new kids to replace the dead ones, after the Devil gives up the bet, but still...think of the psychic trauma, the PTSD for poor bloody Job. Because there's no mention of God giving him a merciful mind wipe, like Men in Black, so he can forget the whole twisted fucking nightmare. No, the poor sod has to spend the rest of his life all freaked out, walking on eggshells, never able to relax into it all, even at his kitchen table with his new daughters around him, because he's always totally and horrifically aware that any time it can all be shat on and pissed over, for no reason at all.

Anyway, so I'd spin this out for them on the doorstep, the Jehovah's Nusiances, and they'd smile pityingly at how a lost soul can read the True Word of God and still go astray.

(Laughs)

Or maybe they thought I was the devil, trying to send them astray.

I've got one about the Tower of Babel too...but...maybe another time...(Indistinguishable) All working together...(Inaudible)...must be the only time in the whole of human history, international co-operation (Indecipherable)...too many ruined buildings in this story without that one on top (Laughs, slurps).

Sorry, just eating...daring to eat...a peach.

(Slurps) Or a reasonable facsimile thereof.

No, but the point I was trying to make was this, right? This Jehovah's Witness, she said to me that what will happen is this. When the Day comes, there'll be a final battle between Jehovah and Satan. After a load of terrible armageddon and apocalypse stuff, God will win and everyone who is still alive on the planet will be sorted by the Angels into two groups, the Saved and the Damned. The Damned go straight to Hell, of course, to be punished and tortured for all eternity. And the Saved? They get to stay on the Earth and live forever, at their physical peak, on a planet transformed so it's like the Garden of Eden again.

The way this woman described it...She said that if you were one of the Saved, you could live forever and, you know, inherit the earth. Do all the things you always wanted to do. Like me, she said, I love to knit and what I'd really love to do is start off with fleece straight from the sheep, and then go all the way through preparing it and washing it and dyeing it and carding it and finally knitting clothes with it. To me, that would be heaven. To you, something different, but whatever it is there would be time for. Words to that effect. Nice little lady in her 70s, very slight, delicate features, pale skin, quite ordinary looking, and yet that little bone china head of hers was the container of such a tiny, cosy eternity, she and her saved friends and a neverending supply of sheep.

(Coughs)

It seems so obviously bloody silly but, you know, it kept this little old lady trudging up the steep steps of every house on our side of the street in the pissing grey drizzle. An insane act, surely? But it's working for her you know? It goes to show how far you can go if you really invest in some crock of shit or other. Don't forget, it's all about distraction. Your brain knows the truth, deep down. It knows there's no reason for any of this, no reason and no purpose. It knows there's no God, there's no Devil and there's fuck all when you die. Even that little Jehovah lady, even her brain knew it deep down. But, unlike me, she'd invested in some crock of shit or other, and that kept her happily distracted. As far as she was concerned, she wasn't just spouting nonsense at indifferent strangers in a cold wet cul de sac in a slowly dying post-industrial zone among the impoverished uplands of northern Europe. No, she was on a very special mission (Giggles)...from God...it's quite sweet really.

(Giggles, coughs).

And despite my best efforts as devil's advocate, she stuck with it. Although she never did call back, which isn't like them, is it? Once they've got their hooks in, they keep coming back, don't they? Not this one, though.

I wonder why she didn't call back.

(Laughs, coughs)

#effluent lagoon #roadswim collective #birds hell reprise #book of job #justifying the ways of god to man #problem of evil #satan #God #car parks

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paganchristian · 4 years ago

Photo

Here are the two clovers that I found back whenever, several years ago. I realized in this picture it’s a little hard to see the fourth leaf on one of them, but oh well. I saved this one in my draft folder and I like it because of the imagery, in which one clover overlaps the light switch, and the other one overlays the door. It makes me think, continuing on the whole idea of omens and good luck and beliefs, which have an ability to create good luck,... It brings me a few thoughts on those things.

Ok first of all let me also say that I don’t actually think that clovers are lucky, but you know, it’s just for fun, and as for what charms I think are lucky, well, I think that they are something imbued with spiritual or psychic energy, so it’s not so much the object but the message it gives or the person who give it to you or the message God is trying to lead you to, or the path that the symbol represents, that you are being led towards, be it a spiritual path or maybe just some other blessed path for you. In itself, I’m not a believer in a good luck charm that just has inherent worth as an object with some mystical power. Not that I say it can’t ever be, because I’m not totally sure. The world is mysterious. But I have experienced the luck of things that have real spiritual value because they are good messages from beyond, from higher, from God, I think. Then again I think that sometimes they can mislead, and be bad omens. False signs and wonders. I have experienced things of this nature too, that I thought were good until gradually, subtly it was revealed to me to be harmful. Enough good that I thought it was only good, but a subtle yet powerful bad effect was worse, though unseen.

Anyway, I think that even among good beliefs, sometimes they can be good only situationally. Just like a good, strong, solid, consistent, simple and clear story, it is good if it works for you, but it seems to me like not only does it have to be a simple, clear, strong basic story. It even has to be predictable, relatable, not too far outside what you are used to doing and feeling and thinking. Ask people to reach too far outside themselves and they will overlook the message. It goes back again to how children’s stories and folktales and fairytales can often contain what cultural sophisticated, high art, religious, and philosophical type stories omit,...

It’s as if there is something that more modernized mindsets lose touch with and children and people who have been less modernized are more likely to see these things, even when they have to veil the messages in hints, symbols and characters very indirectly, animals and fools and such that are silly enough to just laugh at, not too close for comfort, not too similar to the real problems they are hinting at or the deep truths many would laugh or deny or hide because it gets too real, too radical, too challenging, too brave, too good, for the mediocrity of average existence to accept or embrace, too hard, too fine a line to balance.

It seems that people have to oversimplify and they have to consolidate power in a few official people in power, within modernized, simplified, streamlined, organized, complex cultures and societies. Complexity and organization ends up helping in some ways and cutting corners and fitting us into a box that fits the overall system in other ways. I think that people in general want someone to help make life simpler, and in that process they seek the authority figures, the ones in power to simplify it all down to something they can say is the answer, the final answer, and if they have an authority who makes it all simple and lines it all out that relieves the uncertainty. This particular facet isn’t just for modernized societies. We have always been trying to appease the gods who have certain rules, in all cultures, through time, and we make rules and superstitions we are supposed to follow in order to seek the peace and harmony safe from the chaos that life rains down on us.

Anyway, there often is a certain order, sequence, hierarchy and so on in all these rules and rhythms and practices too, oftentimes. It’s the problem I have now. They say, do one thing before you can do another, but sometimes, maybe too often, I think, the order is arbitrary and false, harmful.

But anyway, people want an order to follow step by step, but I can see now its wrong for me,... Right now, in my case, I am dealing with this in my life with some of the religious beliefs in the path I’m considering. Again and again they say you have to do this before you do that, and I just cannot for my sanity.

So I can see these orders and sequences are sometimes just once more a problem of artificial, arbitrary order, to relieve the huge uncertainty and fear and sadness and pain and guilt because of all the mistakes we make when we are left to our own devices so we seek this outer authority to tell us exactly how, when, where, what and in what order we must do things, but sometimes they get the details wrong. But if we feel secure in our system we can feel like we are safe when we follow the proscribed plan and judge those who don’t and advise them and appease our conscience when others fail- it must be just a lesson from God for not following some rule, seen or unseen. But since there is so much we can’t know about others’ inner lives we can’t really truly judge (they say), but still many people do judge and you can see in how they act, many signs give it away that many do judge. It’s hard to have so complex a system of rules which are supposed to give all kinds of rewards, when followed well enough, eventually,... It’s hard to have such a set of rules without judging those who don't’ follow or who seem to endlessly suffer too badly. Then logic seems to suggest maybe they are not following the rules well enough and judgment follows.

Anyway though, the light switch, the door, in the picture, makes me think of things. Signs and beliefs can turn on the light, to a new idea, like a lightbulb, wake us up, make us pay attention, focus, remember the idea, try to do something instead of just thinking about it, take it more seriously. Then there is the door, the door to the actual new path, the new place, the new experience. Sometimes signs or beliefs just make the light come on, and sometimes they actually open the door to a new way. Some ideas do one thing, and other ideas do the other thing, some are lights, some are doors, some can be both or either. But a light doesn’t have to be perfect, it can be dimly lit, it can be a lamp that has a shape, a color, a form, that seems to be one way, but it shows us something else, when we see with the light that emits from the lamp. The door, the actual path, too, can lead from one path to another. But it’s more important for the door to lead at least in the general direction. Lights can be suggestions, possibilities, sparks of thought that lead from one to another to another idea. But real world action is more challenging and engaging, effortful and slow, oftentimes, and so that is when we really must be going the right way at least a little bit.

Or, maybe sometimes not, I guess, it depends. Because thoughts aren’t so free, so easy, a light that lights the way by making us think and figure it out and explore... Yes on the one hand thoughts can speed much more rapidly than real life actions can plod forward, but for the same reason they can delude us. Sometimes we will avoid nonsense by thinking so much and questioning and contemplating before diving into the action of life. Sometimes by using our minds and hearts, we can reach God and love and goodness and meaning without ever taking much “real world action”, and then the energy of our hearts and prayers reaches others even if we never leave our home. So many spiritual paths say, this path I’m considering, and Buddhist and Hindu, among other paths I’ve heard of. But thoughts can be very dangerous, quickly leading us blindly astray when we thought we were going somewhere good,... Keeping us trapped years on end, or decades, spinning in chaos. As I know, living through this for many horrible years of my life. Thoughts definitely can get us so lost, entangled, running faster and faster, unable to rest, restless, anxious, sad, confused, deluded. So there’s no rule I guess. Thoughts have to be at least somewhat good too or they’ll lead you way off track. You can’t always see for your own self what is good, true, makes sense, even if you’re smart, raised with good values, good enough, pretty good values (good as average, or I think in many ways much better than average, the values I was raised with). I should know because I was so lost that way in my mind. I think my desire to be a good person (figure out how and just what that really means in a world where so many opposing ideas of what is right and good and what is not and my own personality and physical and mental health problems were not at all fitting in with what almost anyone accepted to be “good”), all that made me lost, truly. And my desire to seek God and my deep thinking wrapped me even more in confusion than a simpler person who doesn’t try as hard to be as good, to reach as high, to find God, to make sense of the mysteries of the universe. Someone like my husband, as he was after he abandoned his spiritual interests, he was thenafter happy to abuse others (me), content in a simple life, apparently happy for all the world to see, strong and well he has been and continues to be.

And sometimes real action when misguided still teaches us very well what to do instead, in clear obvious ways. Sometimes real action is learning what mere ideas cannot teach. Sometimes real life is down to earth and full of observable, experienced facts that keep you in the realm of safety and goodness. And real actions can often include meaningful, human interactions that keep you in the fabric of life and what really matters. But other times even real experiences and interactions just seems meaningless, forgettable, trivial and numbing, a rushing around, an artificial appearance and the praise and admiration of others, all for nothing, or their scorn, and advice, but again, misguiding, all for nothing. I don’t know.

More roundabout thoughts, circular but I feel they’re leading somewhere that matters, to help me sort out why religion keeps tangling me up rather than resolving into clarity, oftentimes.

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