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actuallybean · 19 days ago

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Cupid's Shuffle* | Part Four

Cupid’s arrow was supposed to patch things up with Sam, not point you straight at Castiel—and resisting it might just be harder than falling. *Contains sexual material, slow-burn, brief mentioning of a past relationship with Sam Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader(former), Castiel x Reader (Eventually), Dean Winchester x Reader (Platonic) Part Five Taglist: @mostlymarvelgirl @this-is-me--1998 @scary-noodlesblog @ratkidcalledallie @fox-saturn @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @otteropera @st0rmzi3 Supernatural Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The bunker’s common room was dipped in low, amber light—faint flickers spilling from the ancient sconces and the bluish glow of a movie long forgotten. Some grainy romantic comedy played on the television across the room, filled with stilted kisses and overdramatic orchestral swells, but neither of you had paid attention in what felt like hours. Not really.

You and Castiel sat on the bunker couch, the world folded small and quiet around the two of you.

Your knees brushed. Then your shoulders. Your arms had gravitated toward each other like the space between you physically offended the laws of nature. And now, his hand sat on the cushion beside yours—unmoving but not idle. The edge of his pinky just barely kissed your own, like the air between your skin had begun to blur, like even stillness wasn’t still enough.

And you were watching him. Or maybe studying was a better word. Like you’d never really seen him before, not the way you were seeing him now. He was all angles and furrowed brows and celestial intensity, but there was a softness to him now. Something unfurled. Open. Vulnerable in a way you weren’t sure you’d ever seen—not even in battle. Not even when he bled.

It felt like your heart was shifting in your chest. Like it had just remembered something your brain hadn’t caught up to yet.

Castiel turned his head toward you, slow and deliberate, his blue eyes glowing faintly in the low light. His brow furrowed slightly, that familiar tilt of confusion and awe. And then, in that solemn, gravel-soft voice that could slice through silence like divine static, he said:

“I never noticed before. Your eyes are… remarkably large.”

You blinked, taken off-guard. “My… eyes?”

He nodded seriously, the way someone might deliver a weather report or diagnose a metaphysical rupture. “Yes. Like an owl’s. Or a particularly alert forest creature. In a flattering way, of course.”

You couldn’t help it—your laugh bubbled out, unbidden and breathy. “That’s… the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about me.”

Castiel’s face softened, not quite a smile, but a reverent sort of stillness that made you feel like the universe had paused to listen.

“They hold so much,” he murmured. “Your grief. Your fire. The light when you laugh.”

Your chest stuttered, breath catching somewhere between a gasp and a heartbeat. “Cas…”

His gaze didn’t waver. “You are very beautiful.”

It wasn’t just the words. It was the way he said them—like truth, like scripture, like something carved into the stone walls of time. Like he’d been waiting several millennia for the right moment to speak them aloud. Like this wasn’t something he’d just realized, but something he’d always known, just never dared to say.

You smiled, wide and helpless and maybe a little stupid. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you.”

“I feel…” he paused, eyes narrowing slightly, as if he could reach into the cosmos and pluck the perfect word. “Drawn. To you. Like you are the sun and I am—well. I suppose I am the angel.”

You burst into laughter again—louder this time, ungraceful and giddy. “That was either the most poetic thing I’ve ever heard or the corniest line in human history.”

His expression twitched, pride blooming in the smallest, faintest upward pull of his lips. As if corniness was something he’d wear like a badge. He looked pleased. You loved that he looked pleased.

And then, without even thinking, your hand drifted toward his. Fingertips ghosting over the back of his palm, brushing warmth into his skin like a secret. He didn’t flinch. If anything, he leaned in a little closer—barely, but enough to tilt the whole world with it.

There was a quiet there. Not silence. Something deeper. Charged. The kind of quiet that follows confessions or miracles. The kind of quiet that tastes like the moment before a kiss.

And then—

“Y/N.”

Your name shattered the air like a glass bell dropped on stone.

You turned. Sam stood in the archway.

He wasn’t angry—not exactly. But there was something crumbling behind his eyes. Fragile and fraying, like someone trying very hard not to bleed in front of people. Arms crossed. Mouth drawn tight. His chest rose and fell in slow, controlled beats, like each breath cost him something.

Castiel sat back slightly, the moment between you hiccupping. You didn’t move your hand. Neither did he.

“Sam,” you said softly. You didn’t let go. You didn’t even think to.

His jaw ticked. “Can I talk to you?” His voice cracked, almost imperceptibly. “Alone.”

You looked at Castiel, who looked at you like he didn’t want to leave but would, if you asked. Always, if you asked.

“I’ll be in the kitchen,” he said, quiet as candlelight. But his gaze lingered.

When he was gone, Sam stepped closer. The shadows shifted around him.

“What’s going on with you two?”

You swallowed, your throat dry. “I don’t know. It’s like… something changed. I can’t stop looking at him. It’s not just attraction. It’s—like I’ve known him for a thousand years.”

Sam exhaled like you’d punched the air from his lungs.

“Yeah,” he said. “Dean told me.”

You froze. “Told you what?”

He didn’t look at you when he said it. “About the love potion.”

The air left your lungs. “What?”

“He wanted to fix us. He went to Cupid. Got some kind of magical… nudge. Slipped it into our drinks. It was supposed to be me and you.”

You stared at him.

“But Castiel drank my cup.”

And suddenly, everything tilted. The warmth. The ache. The way your hand had found his like instinct. You wanted to call it fake, scream that none of it was real—but how could it feel so true if it wasn’t?

“No,” you said, your voice fragile. “No, that’s not—Cas and I, we’ve always had—something. This didn’t come out of nowhere.”

“I know,” Sam said, stepping forward, expression drawn. “But maybe the potion just… turned up the volume. Made you see it. Hear it. Feel it.”

You didn’t know what to say.

“I miss you,” Sam whispered. “After that hunt—I should’ve fought for us. I didn’t. And now I see the way you look at him like he’s gravity and you’ve just remembered how to fall.”

You looked at him then. At his tired eyes. The scar near his lip. The weight in his shoulders. You remembered long nights curled into him, slow laughter in motel beds, quiet I love yous whispered into the dark.

And still, Castiel’s presence echoed through your bloodstream. Like stardust. Like home.

“I don’t know what’s real anymore,” you whispered.

Sam nodded, voice gentle. “Then I’ll wait. For the spell to wear off. For you. But I had to say it. Because if you choose him… I needed to know I tried.”

He left without another word, the space where he stood colder now.

You stood there, shaking.

And then—slowly—you turned and walked to the kitchen.

✦

The bunker’s kitchen was awash in the soft glow of overhead incandescent light—warm, golden, too gentle for the storm brewing in your chest. The glow pooled across the stone counters and metal drawers, bouncing off cast-iron pans and half-washed dishes, like it was trying to convince you the world was still safe. Familiar.

It wasn’t.

The air smelled faintly of cinnamon, scorched sugar, and something slightly singed—remnants of your earlier culinary catastrophe with Castiel. You’d been elbow-deep in flour and overly poetic metaphors when Sam’s voice had cut into the moment like a guillotine.

Now you stood in the doorway, the warmth of the kitchen colliding with the cold edge of reality.

And there he was.

Castiel.

He stood at the counter, sleeves rolled up to his elbows like a man preparing for battle, though the only casualty before him was the collapsed soufflé. The poor thing had caved in the center like a dying star, crust golden and sunken, like it had tried its best before quietly giving up on existence.

You might’ve laughed if your heart wasn’t tangled in your throat.

He hadn’t noticed you yet. His head was bowed, brow furrowed in quiet concentration as he prodded the middle of the ruined dessert with a spatula, like it might whisper its secrets if he just listened closely enough. The picture was so absurdly domestic—an angel of the Lord, armed with egg whites and confusion—that your stomach twisted around itself.

Then he looked up. Not turned. Not heard. Sensed.

Because of course he did. He always did.

“You returned,” Castiel said simply, like you’d only stepped out for a moment. His voice was soft, grounding, full of something strange and steady.

Your breath caught. “Of course I did.”

His posture changed so subtly it would’ve gone unnoticed by anyone else—but not you. You saw the slackening of his shoulders, the way his eyes gentled like a tide drawing back from the shore. Like seeing you had righted something crooked in him.

You took a step inside. Then another. The floor beneath your boots creaked ever so slightly, and Castiel’s gaze didn’t leave yours. It held you there, pinned but not trapped. Like gravity, but softer.

“I was unsure,” he said after a pause. “Sam looked… distressed.”

Your throat tightened. “He was.”

The silence between you swelled again—not uncomfortable, but too full. Like the walls couldn’t hold it all.

Castiel glanced back down at the soufflé. “I believe we’ve failed.”

You smiled, watery. “I think it was doomed from the start.”

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing like the word doomed didn’t quite compute. “It collapsed. But it smelled pleasant. That counts for something, doesn’t it?”

You stepped closer, close enough to smell the faint traces of ozone and clean laundry that always clung to him, even after baking. “Yeah,” you said softly. “It counts.”

And just like before—just like every time—it was there again. That magnetic pull. That ache beneath your skin. His eyes on your lips. Your hand nearly brushing his on the counter.

The air shifted.

Then—

“Okay, nope. Nope. This is worse than I thought.”

You jumped, turning toward the sound of Dean’s voice as he strode into the kitchen like a man walking into a live electrical wire. Behind him came the tap-tap of impossibly expensive heels and the perfume of something equal parts enchantment and ego.

Rowena.

“Oh, how precious,” Rowena drawled, sliding into the room with a grin sharp enough to cut glass. Her gaze swept over you and Castiel with theatrical delight, lingering on the proximity between your bodies like she was reading the climax of a particularly juicy romance novel. “Did I interrupt a little post-soufflé snogging?”

You blinked. “There was no snogging.”

“Not yet,” Castiel said, completely straight-faced.

Dean choked mid-step like someone had sucker-punched him. “Jesus, Cas!”

“What?” Castiel blinked, utterly guileless. “That’s the term Rowena used. Was I not supposed to agree?”

Rowena clasped her hands together, positively beaming. “Oh, I like him more under this enchantment. He’s downright cheeky.”

Dean looked between the three of you like he’d stumbled into a live-action soap opera with no exits. “Alright, listen. This... this thing? Whatever the hell is happening here? We need to pump the brakes.”

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. “We didn’t do anything.”

“Yet,” Castiel added again, a touch too helpfully.

Dean physically winced. “You gotta stop saying that, man.”

Before the tension could spiral—or ignite—Sam appeared in the doorway. His tall frame filled the entryway like a thundercloud with shoulders. His arms were crossed. His face was unreadable.

But the temperature dropped ten degrees.

“Dean,” he said tightly, “can I talk to you?”

Dean glanced at you, then at Sam, then back at Castiel—whose expression hadn’t changed from celestial adoration. He looked like a man bracing for impact. “Hey, listen—if this is about the potion, let’s just remember we’re all adults here. Mostly. Somewhat.”

“Dean,” Sam said again, voice like steel wrapped in exhaustion.

“Okay, okay,” Dean muttered, backing out like a man caught cheating at Monopoly. “We’ll talk. But just know this wasn’t supposed to go full Shakespeare.”

“Darling,” Rowena chimed, swirling her scotch, “you dosed drinks with divine pheromones. Of course it went full Shakespeare. I’m simply waiting for the mistaken identities and someone to fall dramatically off a balcony.”

Castiel blinked at her. “Is that part of the spell?”

You covered your mouth to hide the laugh bubbling in your throat.

Dean muttered, “I hate magic,” and disappeared down the hall with Sam trailing behind like a storm in flannel.

You were left standing with Castiel and Rowena—the angel and the witch—both staring at you like you were the final act in a romantic tragedy they were both too amused to stop.

“I assume you’ve told her,” Rowena said mildly, turning toward Castiel with an arched brow.

“Told me what?” you asked, pulse skipping.

“That the… intense emotional tether you’re both experiencing,” she said, “is the result of a mild—very mild—amorous enchantment. Hardly dangerous. Think of it like emotional kindling. Just enough to light a fire that was already struggling to spark.”

Castiel furrowed his brow. “Dean said it was coffee.”

You stared at the floor. “And mine was tea.”

Rowena chuckled, lifting her glass. “Not unless your tea glows rose-gold under candlelight.”

The room spun slightly.

“You’re saying this isn’t real?” you whispered. “That what I feel—it’s… it’s just some magical suggestion?”

“Not quite,” she said, tone softening. “Magic like this doesn’t create love. It reveals it. Speeds it up, yes, but it only magnifies what’s already there. Think of it as a truth serum for the soul, darling.”

You turned slowly toward Castiel. He was still holding the spatula, as if he didn’t know what to do with his hands, but his eyes were anything but lost.

“I don’t want to lose this,” he said, quietly. Earnestly. Like he wasn’t just speaking to you—but for you.

You stared at him. Open. Shaken. Bare.

And then, of course—

Dean barreled back into the kitchen, hands raised, a look of resignation on his face. “Okay, we have a problem.”

Sam followed behind him. His face was the same—calm, unreadable—but his eyes burned with something old. Something unresolved.

“You good?” you asked softly.

Sam looked at you, and for a moment, the weight of a hundred memories passed between you. Years. Hunts. Secrets. Love.

“I’m peachy,” he said, voice flat. A lie with perfect posture.

Rowena clapped her hands. “This is all delightfully messy.”

Dean glared at her. “You are not helping.”

“I never claimed I would.”

You turned back to Castiel, your voice soft. “So… what happens now?”

His answer came without hesitation.

“I don’t know. But I want to be near you while we figure it out.”

It hit you like a song you hadn’t known you’d been humming for years. You wanted to laugh. Or cry. Or kiss him. Or all three.

Sam shifted behind you. Dean sighed.

Rowena looked positively thrilled. “Oh, we are absolutely headed for a third act climax. I can feel it.”

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is gonna end with someone crying in a broom closet. I just know it.”

And in the kitchen full of cinnamon, flour, broken soufflés, and the weight of three hearts pulling in different directions—there was you.

Stuck between past and future.

And Castiel, still holding the spatula like a love letter he hadn’t figured out how to send.

✦

The hallway outside the kitchen was long and dim, stretched with shadows that shifted with every flicker of the antique sconces mounted along the stone walls. That familiar amber glow—more ghostly than golden—bathed everything in the half-light of memory and misstep. The kind of light that made the Men of Letters bunker feel less like a sanctuary and more like a crypt, full of the dead weight of things unsaid.

Dean leaned against the wall, one boot kicked up behind him, arms crossed like a man bracing for a punch he knew he deserved. His face was set, jaw tight, brow creased—but his stance betrayed the tension coiled beneath. He looked like he wanted to light a cigarette, throw a punch, and apologize all at once.

He didn’t speak first.

Because he knew better.

Sam’s boots hit the hallway floor with the force of a gavel. Each step was heavy. Sharp. A metronome of judgment. He paced once, up and down the length of the corridor, shoulders rolling with barely restrained tension. When he finally turned to face his brother, his eyes were already burning.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

The words weren’t shouted—but they didn’t need to be. Sam’s voice was low, controlled, and dangerous. That quiet fury he only pulled out when he was truly shaken.

Dean didn’t flinch. But he didn’t push back either.

“It wasn’t a drug,” Dean said finally, eyes fixed on the floor between them. “It was a love potion. From Cupid. Harmless.”

Sam let out a short, bitter laugh that cracked on the exhale. “Oh, harmless, right. Yeah, because it’s totally harmless watching the girl I’m still in love with giggle like Castiel just reinvented the goddamn concept of humor.”

Dean glanced up, a brow twitching. “Come on, man. Cas made a soufflé joke. That’s not exactly Shakespearean sonnet territory.”

Sam’s eyes flashed. “Dean,” he said, voice catching, “he called her his emotional constant.”

That landed like a stone to the chest.

Dean looked away. “...Shit.”

Sam dragged a hand through his hair, pacing again, faster now. “Do you even understand what that means to someone like him? What it felt like to hear that and watch her smile like she’s been waiting for him to say it her whole damn life?”

Dean pushed off the wall, starting to pace in the opposite direction, mirroring his brother like they were orbiting the same gravity. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“But it did.”

“I was trying to fix it, Sam,” Dean snapped, guilt fraying at the edges of his voice. “You and her—man, you were both ghosts. You’d walk through rooms like you didn’t exist in the same timeline. I thought maybe—hell, I hoped—that if you just talked…”

He trailed off, hands fisting at his sides. “I thought maybe you’d find your way back to each other.”

“You didn’t trust me to do it myself.”

Dean stilled.

Sam’s voice softened—but it cut deeper for it. “You didn’t think I could fix it. You thought I’d screw it up. Again.”

Dean opened his mouth. Closed it. Sighed, rubbing a hand over his face like he could erase the guilt etched into it. “That’s not what this is.”

“Isn’t it?” Sam asked. “You saw me fall apart when we broke up. You saw how I handled it. And I know I messed it up. I do. I was distant. I let the job come first again. I let her think she wasn’t enough. That’s on me.”

His voice cracked. Just a hairline fracture—but it was enough.

“But trying to shortcut it with a damn potion? That’s not helping, Dean. That’s cheating.”

Dean didn’t answer right away. He looked like he wanted to argue. To deflect. But there was no easy out here. No demon to punch. No hunt to distract them.

Just heartbreak.

“I wasn’t trying to cheat,” Dean muttered. “I was desperate. You think I liked watching you like that? Watching her like that? You both looked like hell. It was like living in a pressure cooker of things neither of you wanted to say. I thought… maybe a little push would help.”

Sam’s laughter was hollow, scraped raw from somewhere behind his ribs. “So your big solution was supernatural matchmaking? This isn’t a CW reboot of Love, Actually, Dean. This is real.”

Dean finally snapped his eyes back up, something flaring behind them. “He wasn’t supposed to drink it.”

Sam flinched.

“But he did,” Sam ground out. “And now he’s… looking at her like she’s the last starlight left in the world. Like she’s his salvation. And worse? She’s looking back.”

Dean went quiet.

Sam’s pacing slowed. His hands dropped to his sides, limp. “They used to be friends. Close, yeah, but just friends. And now they’re… orbiting each other. Like they forgot I ever existed.”

Dean shifted, rubbed the back of his neck. “You really think it’s just the potion?”

The silence that followed was deafening.

And then, Sam’s voice came—hushed. Broken.

“I don’t know.”

He swallowed hard. “And that’s what’s eating me alive. I don’t know if it’s just the magic. Or if it’s him. If it’s always been him. And I was just… a rest stop she mistook for home.”

Dean’s shoulders dropped like he’d been struck.

“You were never a layover,” he said quietly.

Sam didn’t look at him. “Maybe not to you.”

The silence stretched, thick and heavy. It sat between them like something tangible—an old, familiar grief neither of them had the right words for.

Dean finally pushed off the wall. “Rowena’s working on a reversal. Something to neutralize it. Clear the air.”

Sam nodded, but it was slow. Hesitant. “Good.”

“But, Sam…”

Dean hesitated. The words were difficult, but he forced them out.

“What if she still looks at him like that? After the spell wears off?”

Sam’s lips pressed into a hard line. His throat bobbed with the weight of all the answers he couldn’t bear to say.

“Then I guess we’ll know.”

Dean studied his brother. Not just the expression—but the way he held himself. Shoulders too tight, fists clenched, chest rising too fast. The heartbreak was right there. Barely held in check. And beneath it?

Still love. Still hope.

“You still love her?” Dean asked.

Sam’s jaw tensed. He didn’t answer immediately. He looked away—toward the kitchen door. Toward you. Then back at the ground. Then up.

And there it was.

“Every damn day.”

Dean exhaled slowly. “Then don’t fight him. Or the spell. Or me.”

He stepped forward, eyes firm.

“Fight for her. Remind her who you are.”

For a long beat, Sam just stared.

And then, behind the grief, behind the pain… something sparked. Not rage. Not jealousy. But something sharper. Steadier.

A flicker of will.

A pulse of hope.

And Dean, for the first time since this whole disaster started, allowed himself a breath.

Because maybe—just maybe—there was still time to undo what magic had accelerated.

But only if truth was louder than the spell.

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peekofhistory · 5 months ago

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Do you have a favourite c-drama, either historical, modern or fantasy? I really enjoyed watching Everlasting Longing

I absolutely have a favourite, along with 3 other that come really close 😃 These 4 shows I've watched for almost 30 years now and I still keep re-watching them because of how amazing they are.

a) 1994 Romance of the Three Kingdoms (三国演义) b) 1986 Journey to the West (西游记) c) 1987 Dream of the Red Chamber (红楼梦) d) 1998 Water Margins (水浒传)

These 4 series were based off of the classical novels of the same names. They were produced by CCTV, the central broadcasting network in China, so we call them 央视版 (central broadcast version) because there are many other adaptations.

Romance of the Three Kingdoms, out of these 4 series this one is my ABSOLUTE favourite. Not only for Chinese drama, this is my favourite show historical, modern, Chinese, English, the top spot in my heart.

This story is set in the Three Kingdoms period of Chinese history. Out of all 4 classics, this one is the most historical, but the story DOES contain many fictional aspects. Many people say it's 70/30 (70% based on history, 30% made up/tweaked from history). The characters themselves ARE all real in history, and the general direction of the story follows history as well.

Near the end of the Han Dynasty, local warlords started gaining power, eventually splitting the country into 3 Kingdoms. That's pretty much the basis of the story. It goes into strategies used in warfare, psychology of using strategies, famous battles, etc. People also use it to discuss some philosophical questions like, honor, right vs wrong (kill an innocent person to calm an entire army, is that justified? etc.), what is acceptable as a leader, being faithful to your country, not giving up, etc.

I've watched this series no less than 20 times over the past 30 years and every time I still laugh and cry. I also know enough about the background when they were filming to know how difficult it was. The series is 84 eps long, they filmed in 5 groups for 3 years (so basically all 5 groups were filming at the same time to save time), even utilizing the military for some of the larger battles. Main character roles were paid 250 yuan/episode (about $34 USD today), which was fairly good for salary back then but nowhere near the outrageous amounts actors get today compared to average worker. The first few months before filming all actors went through training, horseback riding, fighting, going over the novel with experts, learning etiquette and mannerisms, etc.

This series also has my favourite historical figures, Emperor Liubei and his Prime Minister Zhuge Liang. After researching the actual history of this period, these two are my top historical Emperor/advisor pair. An Emperor who trusted his Prime Minister with his Kingdom, and a Prime Minister who fought to the last breath to fulfill the dream they had together T___T 为什么我的鱼水君臣要 BE...😭😭😭

If you're interested in watching this series, @hanchaozhilang is doing English subs for the whole series

Putting up 2 MVs for them here (combined into 1 video), 我家昭烈帝和武侯有排面！！

Srcs: 一知半解书【悬溺一响，诸葛亮登场】 https://www.bilibili.com/video/BV1nP411W7tA/

博文儿吖【刘备|正史燃向】翻译翻译什么叫昭烈！ https://www.bilibili.com/video/BV14r4y1m7rs/

Journey to the West is based off of a true event in history, during the Tang Dynasty. A monk went on a journey from Chang'an (now Xi'an) to India for Buddhist scriptures. I'm not too familiar with the actual history, but I can imagine back then it would've been an incredibly difficult journey to make.

The novel took that journey and expanded it. They wrote in 3 disciples for the monk (technically 4...the horse who's the son of one of the Dragon Kings is also one), and put 81 "tests" along the way. The monk and his disciples had to overcome these attempts to thwart their journey to finally reach their goal.

The main character of this series isn't actually the monk but his eldest disciple, the Monkey King (top right). The Monkey King (named Sun Wukong) was birthed from a rock, and learned skills like how to transform into various objects, how to fly, etc. At one point he trashed the Jade Emperor (Emperor of the Heavens) palace and was sentenced by Buddha to be trapped under a mountain, but was tasked to assist the monk on his journey 500 years later.

When they filmed this series they were desperately short on funding, only had 1 video camera to use xD Every single main actor took on several roles (some of the smaller monster roles, once all the makeup was on you couldn't tell anyway). The actor who played the Monkey King, Liu Xiao Ling Tong, he came from a family of Peking Opera performers who specialized in the Monkey King role, so he excelled in it.

The novel Dream of the Red Chamber is originally called Story of the Stone (石头记). It centres around several large, rich, powerful families interconnected through marriage, with members serving in the court and one of the daughters even being a concubine to the Emperor. Although the story doesn't specify a dynasty, most people speculate it's likely set in Ming (the author was from the Qing Dynasty).

There are numerous storylines throughout the story, but the main one is between a young man, Baoyu, and his cousin, Daiyu (top left). This novel is incredibly complicated, with an entire profession dedicated to studying just this book (called "Redology" 红学). It can be viewed as telling the rise and fall of a family, but can also be viewed to describe a society and the rise and fall of dynasties. There are many, many characters in this book all with different story arcs. When I was a child, watching this show was just pretty clothes and hair, but as I grew, every time I re-watched the show I found reflections of life in this story. Family relationships, friendships, colleagues, bosses, this story touches on all of them, so whatever age you read this book/watch this show there's things to think about.

Many of the actors for this show were not actors by profession, literally plucked from the crowd. For two years prior to filming, all of them lived together, learning the script, reading the novel, going over it with experts, learning mannerisms, how to write calligraphy, poetry, etc. Their roles weren't immediately set, so during those two years they all tried out different roles, memorized lines, basically like living in a giant dormitory together, so once filming did start their "acting" was very natural.

Water Margins is set in the Song Dynasty. This story, to me, is darker than the other 3. The story depicts a court that is very corrupt and unjust, which forces a lot of otherwise good people to resort to criminal activity. Over 100 of them gather on a mountain in the middle of a lake, called Liangshan, where they essentially become a gang.

The traditional view of them tended to be kind of like Robinhood, raiding local cities and distributing the wealth to the people but if you actually read the book it's darker. Before joining the group, some of them would kidnap women and **** them, or one person had a restaurant where she murdered customers and made them into meat buns O.O;; So...yeah, dark stuff.

But anyway, the story goes into how this group take on the courts, lots of fighting, lots of bloodshed, the ending's really tragic T_T

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a-queer-seminarian · 9 months ago

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Hello, sibling. Do you have resources for intersex Christians? Anything counts, trust. I'm an intersex Catholic and feel very alone in my community. I know God loves me and made me perfectly, but I would love to see fellow intersex Christians talking about our bodies, identities and faith. God bless you

Hey there. My heart goes out to you in your loneliness; you are beloved by God, and you are perfect as you are, even if human beings deny and erase you.

I am also sorry that the broader queer community also too often fails to remember intersex folk and include y'all in our efforts towards justice. You deserve solidarity, deserve to have your pain and your joys listened to as much as any of us.

And, I am happy to tell you that yes, I've got some intersex faith resources for you!

Let's start with intersex Christians talking about their experiences, and then we'll get to some intersex-resonant scripture.

...below the readmore.

Intersex Christians sharing their stories

Stories of Intersex and Faith — a documentary! I have not watched it yet because it costs $20 for an individual to rent it, but if you are interested but the cost is prohibitive, please let me know and I'm happy to rent it for you! .

"I'm an Intersex Christian — and It's Time the Church Listened to Me" (article, major trigger warning for discussion of medical abuse & trauma on a young child; to avoid it, you can skip to paragraph beginning: "The heart of the issue is that church still sees me as problematic...", after which are discussions of trouble with church but also suggestions for improvement) .

Interview with Sara Gillingham, author of the previous article (video, 51 minutes) .

And here's a Facebook video: "What do you wish more Christians knew about intersex people" (video, 2 minutes) .

Another FB video by the same person on how churches can be more supportive of intersex people (video, 3 minutes)

An intersex Catholic Saint?

If you haven't heard of Madre Juana de la Cruz, who would point to her pronounced adam's apple as proof that she had been "male in the womb," check her out!

Now let's check out some intersex-resonant Bible stories, plus intersex theology

For a concise, accessible look at intersex readings of various biblical figures, check out my webpage here... . as well as my webpage here for interpretations of Jesus himself as intersex (and trans)! (The intersex part is fairly brief, but includes links some scholarly essays if you want to learn more about intersex Jesus) . Please note that the focus of my site is trans theology (because that's my focus most of the time), but where a passage is also applicable to intersex folk I make sure to bring them in too, with links to further reading. For instance, did you know Abraham and Sarah were considered intersex by some rabbis in the Talmud?? .

"Male, Female, and Intersex in the image of God" with Lianne Simon and Megan DeFranza (video, 1.5 hours) — great intro to some intersex theology if reading isn't your thing

Intersex in Christ: Ambiguous Biology and the Gospel by Jennifer Anne Cox (book) .

"Intersexuality in Scripture” by Sally Gross (essay free online) . Note that this essay is from 1998 and the language used reflects that, but Gross is one of the foundational intersex theologians. . Also if you want to skip over all her intro paragraphs defining intersex, skip to the paragraph starting "As a brute physical phenomenon, the bodiliness of people who are born intersexed challenges cherished assumptions...")

Sex Difference in Christian Theology by Megan DeFranza (book)

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I hope some of those resources can help you feel a little less alone. There are other intersex Christians, including many who lead, write, preach!

I'll close with a regret: I was trying to find any kind of virtual community for intersex Christians, or even just intersex people in general. I wasn't able to find such a place.

If anyone knows of some online intersex support groups or communities, please share! Or if you have other intersex Christian resources you wanna add, share those as well.

I can suggest that you check out this webpage of intersex advocacy groups across the world. If there happens to be one by you and you get involved, I wouldn't be surprised if you met some other intersex Christians there.

Wishing you well, sibling. When you feel alone, may the intersex Christ enfold you in love. When you feel like "the only one," may the stories of faithful intersex people past and present bring you encouragement.

#intersex christians #intersex catholics #intersex theology #queer theology #bible study

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honeybirdhistoria · 1 month ago

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Reading Lists: American Revolution

A non-exhaustive reading list of popular/academic histories that I have mostly read either in full or at least in part; some of them I have not read but am familiar with the author. I grouped them based on what I think their primary focus is but there is obviously some overlap.

General

Carp, Benjamin L. Defiance of the Patriots: The Boston Tea Party and the Making of America. Yale University Press, 2010.

Fichter, James R. Tea: Consumption, Politics, and Revolution, 1773-1776. Cornell University Press, 2023.

Hinderaker, Eric. Boston's Massacre. Belknap Press, 2017.

Holton, Woody. Liberty is Sweet: The Hidden History of the American Revolution. Simon & Schuster, 2021.

Maier, Pauline. American Scripture: Making the Declaration of Independence. Vintage Books, 1998.

Nash, Gary. Urban Crucible: The Northern Seaports and the Origins of the American Revolution. Harvard University Press, 1986.

Taylor, Alan. American Revolutions: A Continental History, 1750-1804. WW Norton & Company, 2016.

Emotions and Relationships

Eustace, Nicole. Passion is the Gale: Emotion, Power, and the Coming of the American Revolution. University of North Carolina Press, 2011.

Godbeer, Richard. The Overflowing of Friendship: Love Between Men and the Creation of the American Republic. Johns Hopkins University Press, 2009.

Knott, Sarah. Sensibility and the American Revolution. University of North Carolina Press, 2009.

Pearsall, Sarah M.S. Atlantic Families: Lives and Letters in the Later Eighteenth Century. Oxford University Press, 2008.

Zabin, Serena. The Boston Massacre: A Family History. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2020.

Women

Anishanslin, Zara. Portrait of a Woman in Silk: Hidden Histories of the British Atlantic World. Yale University Press, 2016.

Berkin, Carol. Revolutionary Mothers: Women in the Struggle for America's Independence. Knopf, 2005.

Kerber, Linda. Women of the Republic: Intellect and Ideology in Revolutionary America. University of North Carolina Press, 1980.

Norton, Mary Beth. Liberty’s Daughters: The Revolutionary Experience of American Women, 1750-1800. Little, Brown and Company, 1980.

Zagarri, Rosemarie. A Woman's Dilemma: Mercy Otis Warren and the American Revolution. John Wiley & Sons, 2015.

African Americans and Slavery

Countryman, Edward. Enjoy the Same Liberty: Black Americans and the Revolutionary Era. Rowman and Littlefield, 2012.

Dunbar, Erica. Never Caught: The Washingtons' Relentless Pursuit of Their Runaway Slave. Atria Books, 2017.

Horne, Gerald. The Counter-Revolution of 1776: Slave Resistance and the Origins of the United States of America. New York University Press, 2014.

Military

Atkinson, Rick. The British Are Coming: The War for America, Lexington to Princeton, 1775-1777. Henry Holt & Company, 2019.

Atkinson, Rick. The Fate of the Day: The War for America, Fort Ticonderoga to Charleston, 1770-1780. Crown Publishing, 2025.

Fischer, David Hackett. Washington's Crossing. Oxford University Press, 2004.

McCullough, David. 1776. Simon & Schuster, 2005.

O’Shaughnessy, Andrew Jackson. The Men Who Lost America: British Leadership, the American Revolution, and the Fate of the Empire. New Haven, 2013.

#american revolution #history #historyblr #studyblr #historical research #study motivation #studyspo #historians #writing research #history lovers #modern history #college #university #studying #college life #student life #study blog #reading list

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the-monkey-ruler · 11 months ago

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Are there any changes in the adaptations that you liked better than in the book?

I kinda answered this once about how I really enjoyed the Monkey Magic 1998 and how they included Sanzang sneaking out of China to get the scriptures. This actually is more aligned with Sanzang's original journey rather than being similar to Xiyouji the novel. I thought this made Sanzang far more exciting as it gave him an in-depth look at how much he is willing to put his life and reputation on the line for the sake of these scriptures. It also makes sense that Sanzang doesn't want to get in trouble with any law if he is reported to the Tang Empire and deported back. It makes the stakes even higher for me as Sanzang is trying to keep three god-powered demon hunters in line.

I also really loved Bajie's backstory change in the 1996 series, where his punishment isn't that he was reborn as a pig but actually goes through 1000 heartbreaks, only to live through 501 of them and Guanyin saving him from the rest of the 499. I thought it made his vice of how easily and how deeply he falls in love shows the danger in how he can't control himself and just throws himself headfirst into any romance without forethought. The 1996 doesn't make love or romance a bad thing but rather gives a great insight into what you lose if you keep trying to chase happiness in other people when the only happiness you can attain is one that is found within yourself. Also I love the Sanzang of that series, as it was clear that he valued ALL life, yaogaui or human, making it fit much better why he wants Wukong to not kill ANYONE even if they could be a demon. Sanzang had that mindset that Wukong SHOULDN'T kill when someone hasn't hurt them... which made the audience question should WUkong punish demon for what they COULD do or must they have to wait for Sanzang to be in danger to really justify fighting them? I thought this made the Sanzang - Wukong fight with White Bone Demon far more interesting as it made the argument more realistic of two people trying to stick to what they believe is right. Wukong protecting Sanzang and Sanzang saving all life, yaoguai or human, has value.

A small detail but in the 1999 series I really enjoy the is that Wukong in the heavens destroyed the Imperial Stables not because of his low rank but because he wasn't really in charge... which is because of his low rank but he was morso made that he wasn't in charge moreso than any title thing. And in that he actually brought his fellow horse stables people to earth where I link to think they became the horn demons that gave him his Great Sage Title.

Also a classic but the 1987 series where they gave Bailong Ma his iconic backstory of his failed romance. This is where I was GASLITE in believing this was canon for YEARS but no it was just the series giving Bailong Ma more screen times where he actually burned down his father's home when he found out his now ex-fiance the Wansheng Princess was CHEATING on him with the Nine Headed Demon. I thought that it gave Bailong Ma at least ONE SCENE that he needed to be more in depth... also Wukong and Bajie being homies in that series and called Nine Heads ugly and how dare he steal their bro's girl. Fantastic arc!

Also any series that makes Wujing a silent genius, I just really like that trope where they show him being both sincere and kind but also he only speaks when he has to. It's not that he doesn't have much to say but when he does talk it always holds value. I see this a lot in actually the Saiyuki video game and Demon Strikes Back movie. It shows to his emotional intelligence and how he understands what is going on but just chooses not to meddle as that is not in his nature. I really like that as it shows his skills in reading people but also his own vices in his inactivity. I'm a big fan of the 1996 Wujing but he played as more of the emotional comfort of the group, the loyal and honest campaign between Bajie's and Wukong's stubborn pride that needed to break the group tension. I feel like there could and should be a perfect blend of these characteristics in a future series.

Honestly, some so many media and adaptions is it kinda hard to think but these are some of my favorite!

#sun wukong #anon ask #anonymous #anon #jttw #journey to the west #xiyouji #ask #zhu bajie #sha wujing #bailong ma #tang sanzang

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mybeautifulchristianjourney · 1 year ago

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You Must Be Born Again

“Do not marvel that I said to you, ‘You have to be born from above.’ — John 3:7 | The Scriptures (ISR 1998) The Scriptures 1998 Copyright © 1998 Institute for Scripture Research. All Rights reserved. Cross References: John 3:6; John 3:8

Read full chapter

What does it mean to be a born again Christian?

#rebirth #transformation #born again #Gospel of John #John 3:7 #New Testament #ISR 1998 #The Scriptures 1998 #Institute for Scripture Research

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princesadejesus16 · 11 months ago

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Proverbs 31: 10-11 NVI (+ Mulan Wallpaper)

New International Version

Proverbs 31: 10-11

10 A wife of noble character who can find? She is worth far more than rubies. 11 Her husband has full confidence in her and lacks nothing of value.

Wallpaper:

Song:

P31 (Hannah Barr)

Extra: "The flower that blooms in adversity is the most rare and beautiful of all." - The Emperor (From the movie: Mulan) If you want to see more wallpapers like this, go to these links. I made them in canva with images of the movies/animes or series.

#christianity #christian faith #christian blog #ao3fic #christian girl #mulan #mulan 1998 #fa mulan #li shang #disney #disney movies #proverbs #proverbs 31 woman #song recommendation #wallpaper #disney wallpaper #reading the bible #bible scriptures

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crosspunisher · 2 years ago

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Tag drop.

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officiallordvetinari · 2 years ago

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Wikipedia Featured Article Poll, Biographies Edition. Summaries and links below the cut

Margaret Ives Abbott (June 15, 1878 – June 10, 1955) was an American amateur golfer. She was the first American woman to win an Olympic event: the women's golf tournament at the 1900 Summer Olympics.

Lilias Eveline Armstrong (29 September 1882 – 9 December 1937) was an English phonetician. She worked at University College London, where she attained the rank of reader. Armstrong is most known for her work on English intonation as well as the phonetics and tone of Somali and Kikuyu. Her book on English intonation, written with Ida C. Ward, was in print for 50 years. Armstrong also provided some of the first detailed descriptions of tone in Somali and Kikuyu.

Morris Berg (March 2, 1902 – May 29, 1972) was an American catcher and coach in Major League Baseball, who later served as a spy for the Office of Strategic Services during World War II. Although he played 15 seasons in the major leagues, almost entirely for four American League teams, Berg was never more than an average player and was better known for being "the brainiest guy in baseball." Casey Stengel once described Berg as "the strangest man ever to play baseball".

Edward Dando (c. 1803 – 28 August 1832) was a thief who came to public notice in Britain because of his unusual habit of overeating at food stalls and inns, and then revealing that he had no money to pay. Although the fare he consumed was varied, he was particularly fond of oysters, having once eaten 25 dozen of them with a loaf and a half of bread with butter.

Harold Francis Davidson (14 July 1875 – 30 July 1937), generally known as the Rector of Stiffkey, was a Church of England priest who in 1932, after a public scandal, was convicted of immorality by a church court and defrocked. Davidson strongly protested his innocence and to raise funds for his reinstatement campaign he exhibited himself in a barrel on the Blackpool seafront. He performed in other sideshows of a similar nature, and died after being attacked by a lion in whose cage he was appearing in a seaside spectacular.

Marjory Stoneman Douglas (April 7, 1890 – May 14, 1998) was an American journalist, author, women's suffrage advocate, and conservationist known for her staunch defense of the Everglades against efforts to drain it and reclaim land for development. Moving to Miami as a young woman to work for The Miami Herald, she became a freelance writer, producing over one hundred short stories that were published in popular magazines. Her most influential work was the book The Everglades: River of Grass (1947), which redefined the popular conception of the Everglades as a treasured river instead of a worthless swamp. Its impact has been compared to that of Rachel Carson's influential book Silent Spring (1962). Her books, stories, and journalism career brought her influence in Miami, enabling her to advance her causes.

George Went Hensley (May 2, 1881 – July 25, 1955) was an American Pentecostal minister best known for popularizing the practice of snake handling. A native of rural Appalachia, Hensley experienced a religious conversion around 1910: on the basis of his interpretation of scripture, he came to believe that the New Testament commanded all Christians to handle venomous snakes.

Margaret Alice Murray FSA Scot FRAI (13 July 1863 – 13 November 1963) was a British-Indian Egyptologist, archaeologist, anthropologist, historian, and folklorist who was born in India. The first woman to be appointed as a lecturer in archaeology in the United Kingdom, she worked at University College London (UCL) from 1898 to 1935. She served as president of the Folklore Society from 1953 to 1955, and published widely over the course of her career.

Dom Pedro Afonso (19 July 1848 – 10 January 1850) was the Prince Imperial and heir apparent to the throne of the Empire of Brazil. Born at the Palace of São Cristóvão in Rio de Janeiro, he was the second son and youngest child of Emperor Dom Pedro II and Dona Teresa Cristina of the Two Sicilies, and thus a member of the Brazilian branch of the House of Braganza. Pedro Afonso was seen as vital to the future viability of the monarchy, which had been put in jeopardy by the death of his older brother Dom Afonso almost three years earlier.

Elias Abraham Rosenberg (Hebrew: אליאס אברהם רוזנברג; Hawaiian: Eliaka Apelahama Loselabeka; c. 1810 – July 10, 1887) was a Jewish immigrant to the United States who, despite a questionable past, became a trusted friend and adviser of King Kalākaua of Hawaii. Regarded as eccentric, he lived in San Francisco in the 1880s and worked as a peddler selling illegal lottery tickets. In 1886, he traveled to Hawaii and performed as a fortune-teller. He came to Kalākaua's attention, and endeared himself to the king with favorable predictions about the future of Hawaii. Rosenberg received royal appointments to several positions: kahuna-kilokilo (royal soothsayer), customs appraiser, and guard. He was given lavish gifts by the king, but was mistrusted by other royal advisers and satirized in the Hawaiian press.

#i expanded the summaries from the first sentence of the article to the first paragraph #cause with some of these people you don't get the full effect from just the first sentence #and also cause it's my poll.#Wikipedia polls

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haveyoureadthispoll · 1 year ago

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The Poisonwood Bible is a story told by the wife and four daughters of Nathan Price, a fierce, evangelical Baptist who takes his family and mission to the Belgian Congo in 1959. They carry with them everything they believe they will need from home, but soon find that all of it -- from garden seeds to Scripture -- is calamitously transformed on African soil. What follows is a suspenseful epic of one family's tragic undoing and remarkable reconstruction over the course of three decades in postcolonial Africa.

#book: the poisonwood bible #author: barbara kingsolver #genre: historical fiction #genre: african literature #genre: classics #year: 1990s

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lboogie1906 · 1 year ago

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Keith Edward Elam (July 17, 1961 – April 19, 2010) known by his stage name Guru (a backronym for Gifted Unlimited Rhymes Universal), was a rapper, record producer, and actor. He was a member of the hip-hop duo Gang Starr, along with DJ Premier. He was born in Boston.

His father, Harry Justin Elam served both as a judge and a lawyer and he became the first African American judge appointed to the Boston Municipal Court. His mother, Barbara, was the co-director of libraries in the Boston Public Schools system. He graduated with a BA in Business Administration from Morehouse College and took graduate classes at the Fashion Institute of Technology in Manhattan.

Elam began his music career under the pseudonym MC Keithy E but changed his stage name to Guru. He founded Gang Starrin in 1987. The group initially released three records, produced by The 45 King, on the Wild Pitch Records record label. The group consisted of him and producer DJ Premier. Gang Starr released its first LP No More Mr. Nice Guy on Wild Pitch Records; the group achieved a sizable following and released six critically acclaimed and influential albums. Two albums, Moment of Truth (1998) and compilation Full Clip: A Decade of Gang Starr (1999) were certified gold in the US by the RIAA. Gang Starr made archetypal East Coast hip hop with Guru’s rhyming described as sharp-eyed but anti-ostentatious.

Ge appeared on the Red Hot Organization’s compilation album Stolen Moments: Red Hot + Cool. The album, meant to raise awareness and funds in support of the AIDS epidemic in the African American community, was heralded as the album of the year by Time magazine.

His first solo album, not a part of the Jazzmatazz series, Baldhead Slick & da Click, was released in 2001. The album reached #22 on the Billboard R&B/Hip Hop album charts. Version 7.0: The Street Scriptures, was released on his record label, 7 Grand Records. It reached #54 on the Billboard R&B Albums charts.

His final releases were the fourth installment in the Jazzmatazz series and Guru 8.0: Lost And Found was released. A final Gang Starr album, One of the Best Yet, was released in 2019. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence

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eremosjournal · 1 year ago

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By Chad Hewitt

In 1998, I was a fifth grader at a Catholic school in a small town in Ohio. This meant school uniforms, mass twice a week (or more, if there was a holy day that week), and a strict adherence to the principles outlined in the Catechism of the Catholic Church. These principles included two types: the fundamentals of Jesus’ teachings, like the Beatitudes (“Blessed are the persecuted”) and then others, never explicitly stated in the Bible but upheld within society over thousands of years and filtered down into the parochial school system (i.e.“Don’t be gay”). The former were taught through Scripture, sermons, and sacraments. The latter were enforced by other kids, television, and my developing pre-adolescent brain.

As the youngest of three boys in my family, I learned how to operate within these sometimes conflicting paradigms. “Love thy neighbor as yourself”, but only if your “self” is a certain thing; “thou shall not lie”, unless it’s about something like your sexual orientation. Then by all means, lie, lie and lie some more.

Imagine my confusion when during the course of my usual weekday afternoon routine of watching Total Request Live at my best friend Stiv’s house, a music video premiered by a brand new artist named Britney Spears. While I had absolutely no understanding of what the phrase “Hit me baby one more time,” meant, in that moment I immediately felt something come over me, just like Harry Potter receiving his wand for the first time. I had no idea what kind of wand it was exactly but I would soon find out that most of the other boys didn’t even receive their letter to Hogwarts. Yes, we would all agree that Britney was “hot”, but I sensed that the way I felt about her was different and wouldn’t be shared, much less celebrated, by my friends at school. The girls, maybe. The boys, very unlikely.

But if we’re being honest, who doesn’t like Britney Spears? If you find yourself in a room of people who don’t turn the fuck up during “Toxic” then that room, quite frankly, is dangerous and you should get out. The difference was that I loved her for other reasons. Reasons that I couldn’t really put into words and probably wouldn’t even if I could. Reasons that pointed to something about myself that I was taught for so long was shameful and bad. Reasons that, if embraced, would upset my entire worldview and consequently, the relationships that were formed through it. At that time I wasn’t even totally sure if these feelings were real or not, but I did know that sooner or later, I would have to confront them. When I did let myself imagine my life in the context of these fears, the best-case scenario was loving a person that the Church would not consider acceptable, and that would mean a blatant rejection of Christ's love. And so I ultimately had to choose. God’s will or mine. To spare myself the sense of grief and loneliness I would feel from turning my back on God, I dug my heels in, so to speak.

Thus, Britney became the first of many of my guilty pleasures. Since I wasn’t necessarily “allowed” to genuinely love her, I had to love her ironically, justifying my requests for her songs at school dances as a joke. Through my high school and college years I had many more of these “guilty pleasures”, always justifying things that made people even slightly suspicious as an ironic interest and never serious. Because if enjoying those things made something else true about me, then all hope for my eternal soul was lost. *collapses on a chaise lounge*

Recently I had my 34th birthday party, and since Jesus didn’t get to have one of those, the theme was “What Would Jesus Have Done?” Everyone had to dress up as some version of Jesus, whether real or made up. My boyfriend did exceptional work in coordinating the party, which was replete with bespoke cocktail menu (including my favorite, “The Gay Wedding at Cana”), communion wafers as snacks, and a neon cross. I showed up in a priest's robe, and some people didn’t quite understand why, given the theme’s parameters. It was meant to be ironic: I was in costume as a version of myself that might have been if I had never come out. The actual me was enjoying his friends, dancing with his boyfriend at a gay bar in New York City to Britney Spears’ music. Heaven.

This is one of the bigger surprises to me about coming out as queer as a former Catholic: seemingly overnight, all of your guilty pleasures become sanctified. In this new world, liking Britney Spears doesn’t conflict with one’s identity or morality or religion. Britney Spears is the religion. Thinking back now about that first hit of serotonin from hearing “Baby One More Time”, I realize there was something familiar about what she was singing. The song isn’t necessarily about someone whining to an ex for attention. It could also be an actual prayer: the words of a person begging for some kind of signal that they are loved. The desperation and sorrow of a person that feels badly about themselves but doesn’t seem to understand why. The conviction of a person who knows their prayers will be answered one day.

At one point at my party while everyone was dancing, “Oops I Did It Again” started playing and I tore off my robe, revealing a second costume underneath: a shiny red bodysuit. My favorite version of my own personal savior.

#deconstruction #exvangelical #deconvert #ex catholic #excatholic #exchristian #post christian #ex christian #catholic #post catholic #lukewarm #religious trauma

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