#all the weird guilt and shame about sex that i got from my six years in catholic school always rears its ugly head when i write smut

[datura-tea]

can we have a glimpse of the ulysses smut?

hmmmm i'm actually writing two scenes, one where ulysses basically has a sex dream and then the other is the reality haha uhh here's some of what i have so far:

moz cradled his cheek with her left hand and pressed her mouth to his. he kissed her back eagerly, his tongue darting out to taste hers. as they kissed, moz's hands traveled from ulysses's face to his shoulders to his chest, down his arms and his back, her touch feather-light. she went up for air, and ulysses took the opportunity to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, his eyes twinkling, full of wonder.

"you good?" she asked him playfully.

"was reminding myself this is real," he said. "only had you like this in dreams, before."

"really?" moz smiled wickedly, slowly leaning back so that he had a fuller view of her bare body, her spread legs. "you've dreamt of me like this? naked, on your bed?"

ulysses swallowed. "yes," he answered, his throat suddenly dry. he was transfixed, and couldn't move. "many times."

moz hummed and trailed her fingers over her breasts, her nipples. ulysses watched in rapt attention.

"how many times?" she asked. her fingers walked down her stomach, lower and lower, until two of them disappeared into her slit.

"too often to count," he replied, wanting nothing more than to put her fingers in his mouth, to taste her on his tongue again. his hand moved of its own accord to his cock, stroking himself slow, matching moz's pace.

moz watched him watch her, the hunger in his eyes almost enough to make her come. she slid her fingers out of herself and rubbed them over her clit instead. "did you fuck me, in those dreams?"

"show me how."

ulysses nodded. she presented him with her slick fingers before licking them clean. his gaze was intense. she smiled wide.

[autisticandroids]

Oh patron saint of mpreg, tell us, what is the absolute gold standard canon divergent mpreg scenario with Cas and Dean?

so for me the gold standard is for cas to get pregnant due to some kind of magical or metaphysical situation that dean at least does not perceive as sex. bonus points is cas is hesitant about it but refuses to explain why (because he doesn't know how dean will deal with the concept of himself being able to potentially get cas pregnant), so dean is like "we're doing it anyway" and then they do it and then cas doesn't tell anyone that he is pregnant until circumstances force the information out of him. and then dean has to deal with the fact that 1) cas can get pregnant, 2) cas is pregnant, 3) it's his, and he does so pretty poorly.

the rest is under a cut because this post is over 2.5k words long.

my favorite times for this to happen are at the end of season nine, just before dean dies and gets demonized in do you believe in miracles, and at the start of season twelve, just before sam and dean go to jail, because the pining in both those scenarios is delicious but it is so much more powerful if cas is also pregnant, and never even told dean. double points if the truth somehow comes out while they're separated so when dean comes back it's like. yeah cas is pregnant. it's yours. welcome home dean now you have to coddle cas' emotions because he thought he would have to raise your baby alone.

the season twelve scenario is particularly delicious because 1) we can have lucifer slut shaming cas in front of crowley in rock never dies, so crowley knows before dean, and 2) much more importantly, mary is there, and i am obsessed with like. okay. several things.

- the idea of mary getting all baby fever because she misses her boys and this is like. a baby she can take care of because she never got to take care of sam

- the idea of dean working through some of his parentification trauma by coparenting a child with the parent whose place he felt he had to take

- the idea of mary coming in and projecting her insane 1980s gender roles all over cas, suddenly treating him like a woman, stripping him of agency, etc. and like. dean would also do this even though he's not from the eighties, but mary would do it double strength, and they would reinforce each other, it would be a nightmare

- also mary trying to relate to cas on the Travails Of Motherhood etc. and cas being like ?????????? like i cannot stress enough that the weird gender roles she projects onto cas are also standards that she held herself to back when she was a Wife And Mother. while cas is like mary i am not a human woman and also i don't see what "having to look pretty for my man when i'm all baby bloaty" has to do with anything. that's not something i feel like i have to do

oh and 3) could you imagine lily sunder has some regrets if cas was pregnant? unfathomable episode. like ishim and mirabel's reaction but ALSO lily's. and it would fix the number one issue i have with lily sunder, which is that the resolution of the moral dilemma is "well AKSHUALLY the kid was human and not a nephilim so killing it was bad" rather than "it was bad to kill lily's baby, full stop." like ishim's cover up and using the machinery of power to manipulate the truth is very compelling, but the fact that it results in the moral essentially being "it would have been okay if the kid had been a nephilim" suuuuuucks.

basically, there's a reason i have two entire mpreg aus set in season twelve.

and then the delicious part in the season nine version is like. one, dean is away for much longer and he could be anywhere. also he's a demon and he's cheating on cas with crowley. and then even when cas gets him back he's still cursed with the mark, so we can get all weepy over that. you know. i'm the one who's going to have to watch you murder the world and i'm eight months pregnant. etc etc.

but the other thing that's juicy about this version is that cas is still semi-involved with the other angels at this point, like he's roadtripping around with hannah and they're trying to get heaven under control, so carrying a nephil is going to really affect those relationships. so he's going to be probably disliked by the other angels, and there are MANY opportunities for slut-shaming, but at the same time, the other "outcast" type angels might respect him for violating heaven's dictates.

and then of course there's his grace vampirism victorian wasting disease. in canon he's perfectly happy to let himself die, but if he were having dean's baby he would absolutely not do that, that's dean's baby he's endangering there. so of course there's the terrible guilt of having to kill other angels so he can live, plus potentially preparing to die shortly after childbirth so he doesn't have to keep killing. delicious.

and on top of all this cas can get slutshamed by metatron in, depending on when exactly he gets knocked up, meta fiction, stairway to heaven, and do you believe in miracles. plus stairway to heaven would be insane like all the angels would know that cas is pregnant. they would see it in his grace. like cas' angel army would just. know that he was pregnant with a nephil, and have to accept that because he's their leader. in love with humanity indeed.

i'm trying to think of other good times for this drama with cas getting secretly pregnant through a nonsexual interaction to take place. it would be great in season six. like: he's doing a blasphemy with his body but at the same time he's this big important rebel leader so they can't say shit about him, and also he's pregnant while fighting these big important battles (fun and sexy), AND this is like, hot on the heels of the realization that something about his feelings for dean is untoward, expands beyond the bounds of ordinary friendship and camaraderie. like he realizes that, and maybe even that he has sexual feelings for dean, and then he gets immediately knocked up. stunning.

it would ALSO be extremely fun for it to be some kind of... i don't know, magical longer gestation times, whatever, but for cas to have gotten pregnant sometime in s5 and only realized during the Year Of Lisa. LOVE to watch a man rake leaves while both metaphorically carrying the taint of taboo sexual feelings for him and literally carrying his child.

but the thing about season six is, first of all, cas isn't really... envisioning a future with dean. not the way he does in the later seasons. like does he fantasize about a future with dean? yes. like. he really did watch that motherfucker rake leaves. but it's only fantasy. he expected to never speak to dean again after swan song until dean prayed to him in the third man. he's obsessed with dean, but it's distant. remote.

like, we talk about cas babytrapping dean in the later seasons with jack, and he absolutely does, and he would do it even more if dean got him literally pregnant, but that babytrap is about... how do i put this. it's about winning dean's affection. late seasons cas knows that he's going to die by dean's side. the difference that babytrapping dean makes is that maybe it will get dean to be nice to him in the mean time, instead of discarding him like so much toilet paper.

but season six cas doesn't think of it like that. if he were gonna babytrap dean, it would be in the more traditional sense of forcing dean to stay with him in order to raise their child together. and he would never do that. he wants dean to have a happy future, which in his mind does not include him. like, compare here "he's retired and he's to stay that way" in the man who would be king, where cas assumes that dean is happy without him and expects him to live out his days peacefully without ever seeing him again, to "i'm the one who's going to have to watch you murder the world" in the prisoner, where cas assumes that he will be by dean's side for centuries.

but anyway, the other, much more important problem with season six is that cas has a war to fight. like, in the later seasons, cas really has nothing. even when he's on tenuous good terms with the angels, he doesn't really have a home with them. the winchesters are his family, and he'd give up anything for them. he has nothing in his life. he's at rock bottom, and this becomes truer the further along you go. late seasons cas has nothing he would prioritize over serving the winchesters, and he would be happy dropping anything he was involved in to have and raise dean's baby. parenting would give him a purpose that he no longer has, because everything else has been stripped from him.

but in season six cas has a life outside of them. like yes, he has a war to fight, but he also has a place in heaven, with the other angels. he belongs somewhere, he has solid connections to the outside world. even if he didn't have a war to fight, i don't know how excited he would be to have and raise a baby (even dean's baby) because he simply has other things he could be doing. he's involved in the world beyond the winchesters.

like, the reason cas wants to be a parent is that he is totally alone and totally purposeless. having a child gives him both a reason for being and someone who will always love him and who he can care for. if he doesn't have that hole in his life he might not be so eager to fill it with a baby.

for all these reasons, this plotline really doesn't work in season six, because you simply cannot justify cas not getting an abortion, unless you do something nasty like make angel abortion impossible, which i don't love.

you COULD somehow put the impregnation just at the end of season six, maybe just before the man who would be king, such that cas doesn't realize he's pregnant until he's already godstiel. you guys are unfortunately very aware of how obsessed i am with pregnant godstiel.

actually, @jeanne-de-valois has a concept of like. a single, madness fueled midnight hookup immediately pre-tmwwbk (or maybe even during, but prior to the superman mistake), where cas is simultaneously so stressed from being stretched so thin from the war and the lying and the shady dealings, and so high on being The Big Man In Heaven, that he's bold and out of his mind enough to actually come onto dean, like he just appears one night in dean's bedroom and is like, fuck me, and dean is like 👁👄👁 okay. so they have one single adrenaline and madness fueled hookup, and then everything immediately goes to shit.

and i think that's a great place for cas to get pregnant, and then he doesn't realize until he's become god, or maybe he does and he's just like "i'll deal with it later," either way godstiel is like oh? i carry dean's heir inside me? i will have dean's baby. i will have dean's baby it is my right and also my boon to him and also a symbol of my great and magnanimous love for humanity. and also maybe i will put giant paintings of myself pregnant with his child up in churches. what about that. which would be fun. don't know when he would give birth though. actually it would be insane if he gave birth as emmanuel and was just like. raising dean's nephil when dean found him again. nuts. but it just doesn't really have the same flavor as late seasons mpreg. doesn't compel me nearly as much. like the symbolism of godstiel being pregnant with dean's child is fun and sexy but them actually raising the kid afterwards doesn't compel me nearly as much, so it's better to leave literal mpreg to the later seasons and let godstiel mpreg reside in symbolism and fantasy.

or maybe the fetus gets stolen by the leviathans when cas walks into the lake and dean has to battle his leviathanated nephil daughter as the main villain of s7. like she's dick roman's secret weapon. i think that would be fun, actually. kind of an emma situation but drawn out over the whole season. and he thinks cas is dead for most of it so she's all he's got left of cas and a mess cas left for him to clean up. big sexy.

and as a bonus, i will also tell you the best time, imo, for dean to get pregnant: near the end of season eight. possibly a single, tragic farewell fuck in sacrifice when cas is planning to lock himself away in heaven and they're never gonna see each other again. and this impregnates dean with cas' nephil.

but then cas is human. and he can't do anything about it. like generally if they managed to get dean pregnant somehow, cas would immediately talk him into an abortion (which wouldn't be too hard; dean's natural white midwestern man who doesn't vote aversion to abortion would be at war with the horror of being pregnant, and the horror would win), or might not even inform dean that he's pregnant, and just quietly end the pregnancy without dean's knowledge, because cas would never put dean through that. but if cas is human, he can't do that. and furthermore, that nephil is the last evidence of his angelic nature that persists. it's the last of what he used to be, the last of his grace. and there's something absolutely delectable about that.

then of course dean would have to leave the bunker if he was pregnant with a nephil, because angels would be after him, and he wouldn't want to lead them to gadreel, so i am imagining dean discovering that he's pregnant and then showing up in a panic at the gas n sip like "actually cas i'm also out of the bunker will you go on the run with me?" and then they go on the run and have to live in motels again and cas gets to live with take care of dean who is pregnant with his child which is essentially his dream, and he doesn't have to feel guilty because he's no longer capable of giving dean an abortion so he doesn't feel obligated to get him to have one. ideally cas gets re-angeled just in time to give dean an angelic c-section. or maybe they rely on a normal human c-section in a hospital and cas stays human and they are two humans raising their nephil, which is also fun to me.

[ratcatcher0325]

Nobody’s Fool (Chapter #28)

Here’s Chapter #28. Rides to the airport can be really awkward. Penn isn’t himself. Things are sucky for them both.

Previous: Chapter #27

Next: Chapter #29

CW: Adult language, adult themes, dehumanization, mild references to sex ________________________________________

NOBODY'S FOOL

Chapter #28: A View from Above

Word Count: 1,166 Read Time: Approx. 9 mins

[Eveline's POV]

Finally I gasped for air, sighing loudly, “Sam, can you not— can we just listen to music or something and avoid talking about this right now?”

I reached for the radio, his hand came to rest on mine. “Hold on a second, Ev. You’ve been acting so weird ever since I got here… is the stress of the road getting to you? I can get you a flight home tomorrow if you want…”

“No! I mean… n-no, it’s… it’s not that. It’s just… a lot has… has changed… in the time you’ve been in London…”

“Like what, Ev? You keep saying that, but what does that mean, exactly? You adopted a pet? Big fucking deal. People do that every day. Kids get ‘em for Christmas every year. How does that matter?” Every word he said stung, because I knew how it would sound to Penn. All of that time spent helping him to feel safer around humans, to trust us. To come into his own… was now being torn asunder by Sam’s incredibly derogatory words.

“He’s not just—“ I swallowed hard. I had to be careful, how did I say this without exposing my feelings to Sam? “It’s not that simple. Look… it’s 7 am and I’m fucking tired and I just want to focus on getting you to the airport on time, okay?”

He bit into his apple again, juice spewing in his lap and no doubt splashing Penn. “Okay. Alright. I just wanna make sure you make it out of this tour in one piece, for once, okay?” Ouch. That fucking hurt. “Your so-called friends don’t exactly keep the healthiest of habits…” I opened my mouth to protest. He squeezed my hand and continued, “Just… come home soon, okay? Let me take care of you. Let me remove the stress of it all. I still don’t understand why you insist on keeping that little illustration business of yours open, why you won’t just get rid of that shitty apartment and move in with me… you know I make more than enough that you don’t have to work. Just promise me when you get home you’ll let me take care of you… mmmm… like I did last night…” he snapped his teeth at me, raised his eyebrows and made a throaty purring sound. I shivered. Panic washed over my body. The amount of guilt and shame I felt in this moment was nothing compared to the heartache I knew Penn must be experiencing. Sam didn’t know it, clearly, but I had faked it to get it over with last night. That wasn’t the first time I’d done that with him.

I sat up board straight, all muscles tensed for the entire rest of the drive. Unable to speak after that, I simply turned on the radio and avoided the whole situation. Sam, completely oblivious, bobbed his head to the music. Finally, we arrived at the drop off area, he grabbed his bag from the back and met me at the car window. Leaning in he gave me a long kiss. I sat stunned, numb, horrified with myself for this mess I had made…. Was currently making… and then he was gone, disappearing in the varied reflections of the sliding glass doors.

The tension in the six inch space between my body and the cup holders was thick. Penn was even smaller than usual, curled up into himself. If I listened very closely between the noise of the road and the blowing of the car’s air, I could swear I heard him sobbing. My heart was shattered. And it was all my fucking fault.

****************

Neither of us spoke a word to one another. My favorite place in the whole world, at her side, had now become my own personal hell. I was so consumed with hot blinding rage, savage stinging jealousy and profound and utter sorrow that I couldn’t help the tears that fell down my cheeks and into my lap. I couldn’t make myself look up at her. I didn’t want to see her face. Why was she doing this to me? What had I ever done to deserve it? Part of me wished I had just frozen to death in the ice and snow that night. Everyone would’ve been better off, clearly.

As the weeks passed by and the tour amped up, I retreated into myself. It was so ironic that as I began to find more and more success in music, my soul was being shredded to bits. The packed houses got bigger, the audience was obsessed with me. People knew the words to my songs. Mine. A pet’s poetry in the mouths of humans. Nothing like that had ever happened before. At least, not that I knew of. Our social media exploded. We were asked to do interviews. I started signing autographs and doing meet and greets.

Holding the thick, heavy sharpies and trying to use them to sign was nearly impossible, the writing instrument being half an inch taller than I was. Instead, inspired by that night in the dressing room in San Francisco, the first big house I’d ever played to… when I’d pressed my palm against the mirror, I made my signature my little handprint. I’d press my hand into the stamp pad of metallic silver ink and then, like some hilariously tiny celebrity on a miniature walk of fame, I would stamp my handprint onto the poster or CD or whatever they wanted me to sign. My unique little signature became a sensation. Autographed memorabilia was valued high and hard to find online. I was becoming a larger phenomenon. I had an official fan page.

And through all of this fame and good fortune, I felt completely numb. None of it brought me joy. The only time I felt like myself was when I was playing onstage. Music made me happy. Sharing sound with people. That still felt good. But off the stage, I was a shell of myself.

I continued to write. I was angry, my heart was bleeding. I was lost. Songs were shots in the dark to try to find my way again in the world. In Tucson, I played a new one for a crowd of 3,000. It became an overnight hit. We recorded it in the sound studio that night and released it for download… people loved it. It was my heart served up on chords of sound.

[LINK to Song] 

I almost exclusively hung with Travis. I drank too much. He would often pluck the flask from my hands, and I’d cuss him out. But I knew he was just trying to look out for me. Everyone could tell I was a shadow of myself. But no one talked about it. I somehow managed to pull it together for interviews and during shows but outside of that I had nothing left to give. Eveline did her best to stay busy with client work. She didn’t go out with us anymore. I was miserable.

[munofsilver]

Stuck In-Between Chapter 5

@gaalee-bingo may be over but this fic isn’t. I know I can still post and let them know. Just no more badges. That’s fine with me. This chapter was for injury. Ao3 link.

Summary: We get to learn more about Gaara and Lee, along with the yokai world a bit. Shukaku is still a tricky tanuki bastard. Trigger warning: Mention of rape.   

The two yokai race across the marketplace. Akamaru runs as fast as the wind as he tracks Lee's scent. They passed through the marketplace, the training area, farmland and heading towards the forest where all animal yokai like to live. All tanukis and kitsunes are there with their human spouses if they have one. Even though humans say they don't, tankuis and kitsunes get along very well. 

Akamaru stops in front of a house on the edge. Gaara knows this house. He slides off Akamaru's back, and the canine yokai runs off, howling, "My job is done." 

Gaara knows he will have to return home with Lee without Kida's help. Lucky for him, Shukaku is a friend and might help. It's hard to tell what that tanuki will do. Moving closer, Gaara knocks on the door. After waiting a few minutes with no answer, he knocks again harder. Still nothing, so Gaara lets himself in. 

Lee starts, unable to stop even though he wants to, "My father never fully healed from an injury he received when he encountered a kitsune, seven years ago. We both were hungry and had no money since I couldn't go out to fish or hunt as much anymore. Father's health was getting worse, so I did something I never wanted to." 

Lee takes a sip of the sake, not knowing it will make things worse for him. Shukaku smiles, knowing that with each sip, more truth will come out. While enjoying his own sake Shukaku also enjoys Lee's story as he continues. 

"Six years ago Princess Ino was on another shopping trip with Hinata, her lady in waiting. When Princess Ino dropped her fan, knowing how much it was worth, I took it and ran. Unfortunately, I was seen and caught." 

"By a guard?" Shukaku asked. 

Lee only shakes his head, "Princess Ino." 

Shukaku laughs, "A guard would have been better." 

Lee nods in agreement. If it was a guard, he would have been locked up in prison instead. Thinking back, it might have been better if it wasn't for the fact that he would never have been able to see or help his father while in there. Lee continues when Shukaku "asked" him too. 

"She said she will let me have the fan and not go to prison if I agree to be her personal slave. Like an idiot, I took her offer and sold the fan. I bought food and medicine for my father. The next day three guards came and dragged me to the palace. Until I escaped about four days ago."

Shukaku grins that is quite a tale, but he feels there is more. Being a tricky tanuki, he had to find out more. Lee takes another sip, not liking to taste. Each sip tastes differently. Thinking this is something to do with being in the yokai world, sake is different here. 

"Can you explain about being Princess Ino's personal slave?" Shukaku leans forward. 

Lee looks down at his sake, "Like with her servants, I couldn't look at her face. She made me feed her peeled fruit, rub her feet and shoulders, brush her hair without touching her face; I had to hide from her father. She didn't want him to know I was there. I could only leave her room to visit my father once a week. I couldn't say a thing. I had to sleep on the floor with no covers or pillows." 

"That doesn't sound too bad," Shukaku pours himself more sake finishing the bottle. 

"Those are the things she made me do during the day. At night she forced me to," tears form in Lee's eyes, "At night, I was forced to pleasure her," he whispered. 

Shukaku spits out his sake, "You were that type of slave."

"I don't mean sex. That only happened once when she forced herself on me on my eighteenth birthday," Lee wipes the stray tear from his eye, "Her pleasure was my pain."  

Shukaku had enough. He got what he wanted. Now he is going to even things up, "Would you like to know anything about Gaara?" 

Lee wipes away his tears and smiles, "I would like to know more about yokais in general. It seems everything I learned about them was wrong." 

Shukaku laughs, "I will tell you anything you want to know about Gaara. If you want to know more about yokai, walk around the marketplace." 

Lee thinks for a moment before he decides, "How did he become a guardian?" 

Shukaku sighs as he leans back, "That is not a happy tale. I'm not sure if Gaara will be happy if I tell you. Then again, I am a tanuki of my word, sometimes. Gaara was forced to be the guardian between the yokai and human world by his father, a real jackass," Shukaku opens his third bottle of sake. 

"Gaara's mother was a human that his father loved dearly. Sadly it's hard for a female human to give birth to a yokai child. Most times, yokai that are married to humans will never mate with them or do so with safety measures," Shukaku winks like he was hinting at something.

"Unless it's a female yokai and male human. Then it doesn't matter if they have cubs. When a human bears a yokai child, she will have about a 50-50 chance of not dying during birth. I'm sure you know where I'm going with this." 

Lee nods in understanding while he feels bad for Gaara. Lee also lost his parents when he was a baby. Gai adopted Lee when he found Lee in the forest with no shoes or clothes on. He takes a final sip of sake, and Shukaku pours him another cup. Nothing added in the sake this time. 

"His father, Rasa, blames Gaara for his mother's death. He knew what could happen if his human wife had his cub. I told him, his mate told him, Chiyo herself even told him many times," Shukaku growls. 

Shukaku never got along with Rasa. He thinks Shukaku and him are friends. In reality, Shukaku only likes Gaara and his siblings. He just lets Rasa think what he wants. The tanuki doesn't like talking about Gaara's father, but he does finish the story. 

"As punishment for "killing" his mother, Gaara is banned from the yokai world unless he has permission from Rasa. He rarely gets that. He has to guard the in-between, we call it. If a human should enter without permission, Gaara will get in trouble," Shukaku chugs down half the bottle of sake. 

Lee looks down at his own cup. Shukaku can see the sadness in his eyes. Shukaku does think Rasa overacted; then again, Rasa always overacts. Shukaku ears twitch, and he sniffs the air. Looking back at the human, he sees guilt on his face. 

"Don't worry, Rasa doesn't know you're here. He will never come here. Scared of the forest. Not that he will ever admit it," Shukaku laughs. 

That did help Lee feel less guilty. Taking a sip of his sake, Lee noticed it tasted sweeter than the other cup he had. 'Yokai's sake is weird.' He thinks. 

"Anything else you would like to know about Gaara?" 

"You told him enough already." 

Both look to see Gaara standing in the corner of the room, arms folded and deep glare aimed at Shukaku. Shukaku was surprised he didn't smell Gaara, only Kiba. He may change his name in his yokai form but not his scent. Finishing the bottle of sake, Shukaku tosses it away with the other two. 

"You're lucky I found him first. You're also stupid for coming here, Gaara. You know what will happen if your father finds out," Shukaku shows Gaara his deep glare. 

Gaara ignores the older tanuki; right now, he only cares about Lee. He sees that he was crying, and based on what he heard, Lee says, Gaara can understand. Now some things make more sense to the young tanuki. Why Lee was running away, how he ended up in the forest, why he was wearing a palace guard uniform? Gaara uncrosses his arms and walks to Lee. 

"Are you alright?" Gaara looks into Lee's eyes. 

"I... I'm fine. How long have you been standing there?" Lee, all of a sudden, found himself feeling embarrassed and shameful. 

Gaara wonders if he should tell Lee the truth that he knows or lie and act like he doesn't. He was about to say something when both tanuki's ears raise up and turn like they hear something. Shukaku growls as Gaara runs outside. Lee stands up, wondering what's going on. Should he be worried, hide somewhere, is everything going to be fine? He starts to panic. 

Gaara enters and shares a look with Shukaku. Gaara points towards the front door with his head and nods. 

"I know what you are thinking, boy. We can get this human out of here without that stupid fox help," Shukaku huffs. 

"He's only here to warn me. My father knows about Lee and me being here. He's not stupid, Shukaku," Gaara growls, warning Shukaku. 

He only huffs again and crosses his arms, "Then we better get you both out of here fast. Your father hates this forest, but he will come here to get him," he said, pointing his claw at Lee. 

Gaara knows what his father would do if he gets Lee, and Gaara will never let anything happen to his human friend. Gaara grabs some leaves from Shukaku's pocket and places one on Lee's head and the other on his own. Gaara closes his eyes, and two female yokais are standing there. Lee can see Gaara now has pure white skin, pale blue lips, dark blue eyes, long silver hair. Wearing a white and silver kimono. Lee has long black hair tied in a bow at the end, with no skin or eyes. Only a skeleton wearing a pink and red kimono.   

"Are you sure this will work?" Lee asked. 

Gaara looks at Shukaku, "We will need an escort." 

Shukaku smiles, "I'm better at transforming than that fox." 

With a snap of his claw and a leaf on his own head, Shukaku is now a male human wearing workers' clothes. Perfect for escorting two lovely female yokais around town. It's a common sight in the yokai world. Lee did see it during his short time in the marketplace. He just didn't pay much attention to it. 

Everyone is ready, and they head to the marketplace. Once there, Gaara will be able to open the way out and leave without any trouble. On their way, a kitsune runs back into the forest while transforming into Shukaku. He's going to buy them as much time as he can. Gaara will thank him later, knowing he will be at the cave to see if everything worked. They crossed many yokai and humans on the pathway.  

Lee wonders why some yokai stay in their human forms in the yokai world. When he noticed that the ones that are doing that are with humans. Maybe their spouse and they stay in human form for them? It seems that all the yokai in their human forms look like regular humans except the eyes. Being half is why Gaara gets a tail, claws, and ears of a tanuki. Lee does think Gaara's ears and tail are cute. They reach the marketplace, and Shukaku stops. The two "ladies" stare at him. 

"Stay close young pup. This will be tricky. Human opens this fan and looks down towards it," Shukaku hands Lee a fan. 

Lee takes the fan and does as Shukaku says. The fan matches the color of his kimono and sparkles in the sunlight. Shukaku hands a fan to Gaara that's the same as Lee's. He opens it but doesn't look at it like Lee. Instead, he uses it to cover the lower half of his face. They continue onwards. In the marketplace, they slowed their walk. If they move too fast, they will draw unwanted attention. To blend in, they stop at a few stalls. Lee watches everything while keeping his head down at his fan. With his eyes, he sees all. 

The trio stops at a stall that seems to have species and herbs. Mostly humans are there with a few yokai. The merchant looks like an ordinary house but with two tails and smoking a pipe. They move to the next one. This one is selling scrolls, some blank, some with writing Lee can't seem to read. Gaara "purchased" a few scrolls; it seemed to be more of a trade. Gaara gave the merchant what looks like a dried burn lizard skin for each scroll. That the female looking human with eight eyes merchant seemed to desperately want. Shukaku stood behind them the whole time they looked at a stall. Looking around to make sure no one is watching or following. They walk past the next few stalls and stop at one selling fabric.

Matsuri is there, and Gaara had to stop Lee from going towards her. She is working right now, and they need to keep blending in. They walk past quickly, leaving Shukaku behind as he drools over some rare sake. Neither one noticed the other wasn't there. 

"You can't mask your scent, Gaara," a booming voice calls out close behind, "You might have been able to if Shukaku or that fox was with you." 

That's when they both noticed their escort was missing. Gaara turns around and pushes Lee behind him. Now that their cover is blown, the transformation disappears as Gaara prepares to defend Lee. Standing more like floating above them is a tall human with pure black eyes and hair. Wearing a sleeveless grey rode and black pants. His four arms are folded across his chest. A snake-like tail swishes behind him as he lands in front of them. 

"Is that your father?" Lee gulps. 

Gaara narrows his eyes as he glares, "No, it seems my father sent one of his human controllers instead. Stay behind me." 

Lee doesn't move like a statue. The controller unfolds his long slender arms that don't match his body. What should be fingers are only bones until he moves them. Then flesh covers them, grey-colored flesh just like his tail that is very plum. Gaara's own tail grows, as does his claws. Even the ones that are supposed to be Gaara's toes grow. Both yokai begin to growl at each other. Others in the marketplace stop what they are doing and prepare themselves for the fight that's about to start. Yokai's are closing stalls, others are getting their human companions out of the way. Some even take bets. Mothers keep their kids out of danger but let them watch if they want. 

The enemy leaps towards Gaara as his claws pierced into the controller's arm. Gaara clubs his attacker in the head with his massive tail. Causing him to crash into the ground, but it didn't stop him. Raising to his feet, the controller's eyes are bright red as he smiles. Showing two sets of fangs. Gaara keeps pushing Lee back out of the way, towards the crowd. If he can get Lee there, then the tricky tanuki can use it to escape. There is more than one way to get to the in-between gate, then the main one. 

The enemy seems to know this plan and rushes past Gaara towards Lee. It seems Gaara is faster as he was able to grab Lee and defend them both with his tail. Letting out a hiss, he attacks with the claws on his feet, hitting the other yokai in the shins. The collector falls on his back. Gets up into a sitting position to look at his blood, running down his legs and dripping off Gaara's back claws. 

Lee sees blood dripping off of Gaara's tail. He can't let him fight this guy on his own, but what can a human with no magic do against a yokai? By the look of it, a rather strong one. Trying to remember what he saw from the kitsune attack. Gai did fight back and was able to scare it off if only Lee knew how. Now is not the time to get lost in the past; he needs to act now. Without thinking about himself, Lee rushes past Gaara towards the controller, still sitting on the ground. With some dirt in his hand, he blows it into his eyes, making the controller unable to see as he rubs his itchy eye. 

It took more than enough time for Gaara to grab Lee with his tail and make a mad dash towards the in-between gate. Trying to trick the controller, Gaara takes a different path through the crowd that is now going back to their own business. Now that the fight is over and bets need to be collected. Gaara doesn't let go of Lee until they reach the other side of the way. Out of breath, Gaara takes the bell out and places it back in the tree branch. 

"What the hell was that!?" Gaara roars, "You could have been killed. Controllers are made to hunt down and kill humans." 

A look of pure guilt took over Lee's face, "I'm sorry. I just didn't want you to fight him on your own." 

Gaara sighs, and his tail returns to normal size, "I appreciate the thought, but next time try to have an escape plan." 

Lee smiles and nods. He stands next to Gaara as the tanuki opens the portal. Lee enters first before Gaara. Once in the cave, Lee turns around and can see through the portal. Gaara's back is towards it, and he seems to be looking at something or someone. Lee sneaks back out and is pushed back in by Gaara being sent flying in the portal. It closes, and Lee helps Gaara onto the still transformed bed. 

Lee can see more than Gaara's tail is bleeding. Blood is soaking through his clothes, running down his arms. Lee carefully yet quickly takes off Gaara's haori and unties the yukata. Lee slides it off Gaara's shoulders. The tanuki was hissing in pain the whole time. Soon the portal opens again as Shukaku enters. He runs to Gaara shoving Lee out of the way. A huge wound is on Gaara's chest and some small ones on his shoulders and upper arms.  

"Do something to stop the bleeding. I will return," Shukaku hissed and went back through the portal and closed it.

[travllingbunny]

The 100 6x08 The Old Man and the Anomaly

After Nevermind, which was character-driven, mind-bendy and almost fully focused on Clarke, this episode was very plot-driven and juggled a bunch of different characters and three separate storylines in three different locations, featuring most of the characters who are not still in cryo – but not Clarke, who is still locked in her mind space while Josephine controls her body.

In terms of the plot, this may be the turning point or one of the turning points of the season, There was one revelation that wasn’t really a surprise as it was a confirmation of a rather popular theory, and a few dramatic developments, including a very controversial development involving Kane and Abby – which, unlike many others fans, I find to be an interesting and tragic storyline that allows a look at the theme of bodysnatching from another angle. The best character moments belonged to Emori, an underrated character who’s always been my favorites.

But most of it this episode felt like the plot setup for the more interesting and emotional character exploration in the following episodes, which I’m more looking forward to.

Detailed thoughts under the cut, including my overall view on Memori and Kabby throughout the seasons.

Octavia, Diyoza, Old Man Gabriel and the Anomaly

I wasn’t ready to believe in the Xavier = Gabriel theory before, because Xavier’s snarky, fun personality didn’t seem to match what little we had seen of Gabriel’s personality in the flashback in 6x02 and the video in 6x05. But, in general, the show has made the continuity of personality and mannerisms obvious only with Josephine, while with the other Primes, we either never saw what their personality was like originally (Priya, Ryker, Kaylee) or it was consistent enough, but nothing too obvious (Russell and Simone). Which all may be because they wanted the reveal to be a surprise. But in other ways, it made sense – the way “Xavier” was the only one insisting on Gabriel’s principles among the Children of Gabriel, the mystery surrounding him, and this theory was becoming more and more likely to be true the more the season went on and we hadn’t seen any other signs of Gabriel or a new body in which he may be. In this episode, it became obvious the moment when he, Octavia and Diyoza found themselves in Gabriel’s cabin close to the Anomaly, and ‘Xavier’ started talking about the portrait of Josephine as someone who meant a lot to Gabriel, 3rd person. Diyoza’s comment that he must have really loved her, while she just wanted sex, seemed extremely random, since there was no way she would have known anything about Josephine’s feelings for Gabriel based on her portrait alone, but Diyoza was obviously taunting him to see if her suspicions about his real identity were correct – and his face said everything.

Gabriel is really a morally ambiguous character, since he is fighting to end the evil system the Primes have set up and is their main enemy, but he is also the person who started it all, by coming up with the way to transfer consciousness in hosts, and killing at least 46 people (including a six month old baby) that he himself has developed from embryos, in order to resurrect Josephine. He also went along with the new system for quite a while (for over a century) and had a few hosts, until his conscience finally started working, and made him decide to leave and start taking the rejected “null” children and forming a movement against the Primes. He did want to finally die, but it’s impossible to wipe one’s own mind drive. Gabriel’s loyal follower Eduardo didn’t want to let him die, so he put Gabriel in a new host, Xavier. (How did a Nightblood end up with CoG? He may have he kidnapped by them as a child so he couldn’t be a host, but ended with the same fate. There’s a parallel between what Eduardo did to Gabriel, resurrecting him against his will, what Gabriel did to Josephine, also out of love (however, in that case, Josephine was happy to be resurrected), and what Abby does to Kane in this episode. To say that Gabriel was not happy would be an understatement, since he killed Eduardo in a fit of rage. But then he decided to keep his new body, following the logic that there was no way to bring back either Xavier or Eduardo, and that he can at least use his new body to still lead CoG and continue to fight to destroy the system. Morally ambiguous character, indeed, but at least Gabriel is aware of his failings, as seen in the fact that he assumed Xavier’s identity out of shame.

The Anomaly is the most mysterious plot in the season full of weird SciFi concepts, and one that, I think, could continue to play a big role in season 7, after the bodysnatching storyline, most probably, gets resolved. Gabriel said that no one had ever returned from it, but he didn’t say how many people had gone in (the statistical sample may not have been big enough to draw the conclusion that no one returns from the Anomaly), and now we know that at least one person has returned – Octavia. I don’t think that the Anomaly kills people, and I certainly don’t believe Diyoza is dead. What the Anomaly actually does, is one of the most interesting questions of this season, and I expect to see the answer in the next episode. The fact that Octavia returned not just healed, but with longer hair and looking like she did before Blodreina, suggests that whatever happens inside has a lot to do with some sort of (limited) time travel, or temporal displacement (in any case, something wibbly wobbly timey wimey). XaviGabriel said previously that there is no cure for aging, but that may not be the case in the Anomaly. Don’t get me wrong - I don’t think there’s any time travel in the sense of characters going back to interact with people in the past and affect events, but merely that the Anomaly may be allowing people to go back and forward in their own timeline and experience their past and future in their own mind, which also affects their physical condition. This could have consequences on Diyoza’s pregnancy as well (read: it would be a convenient way for the show to have her give birth ahead of time and rapidly age up her daughter, so there wouldn’t be a baby on the show). In any case, I expect to see more of what happened to Octavia inside in the next episode (where we will probably see her “facing her demons”), and what happened to Diyoza.

What we saw of the Anomaly’s effects on people even just outside of it was very interesting: according to Gabriel, it shows people’s darkest fears or deepest desires, or both at once – which is the case with Gabriel, who keeps seeing Josephine. Even after all this time, he is still in love with her, but at the same time, she is the enemy that he is fighting for, she stands for everything he has abandoned and come to hate. I’m sure we’ll see more of that relationship, and finally find out more about how Josephine really feels about Gabriel. There’s a chance that she really did love him (possibly the only person she did love?), but there’s also a chance she never did. We still don’t know.

Diyoza saw her greatest desire, her child, but it was still weird that someone as rational as her straight up followed a vision into an unknown and dangerous place. (And so another terrible fan theory dies. Some people actually thought there would be a mid-season time jump because a 6-7 year old girl was cast as Hope.)

In one of my favorite scenes of this episode, Octavia saw a vision of Bellamy, tied up and on his knees, as he was at the end of 5x09, when she condemned him to the fighting pit. Her guilt, fear that her brother hates her and desire to have his love back, seem like the right incentives for her to finally deal with her demons and finally be able to change for the better, by herself.

Mayhem in Sanctum

War has finally broken out between Sanctum and the Earth people, thanks to Madi. The main conflict about Murphy, still aligned with Josephine and hoping for immortality for himself and Emori, while Bellamy and the rest (Echo, Miller, Jackson…) are focused on saving Clarke, but Madi and Jordan both turned out to be wild cards with their own opposite agendas.

I wonder why Sheidheda is the only one of the Commanders that Madi sees in her head. There’s so much the show has never explained about the Flame. Maybe he’s the only one who speaks to her (literally) because he is the only one who speaks to her (metaphorically)? Not in the sense that she’s consciously summoning him, but that he matches her emotional state? She is a pre-teen who watched her parents and everyone she knew die of radiation, and now has had her adoptive mother, who raised her for 6 years, taken from her. She wouldn’t even need more reason to start killing, but without Sheidheda’s influence, she may be prioritizing getting her mother back and be more willing to listen to Bellamy’s plan, rather than focus on killing the Primes. Not that most of the other Commanders are likely to be against revenge and violence as an answer (because “Blood must have blood”), but Sheidheda is so extreme that he can speak to Madi’s angriest impulses, and he’s certainly the only one who would advise her to get rid of her Flamekeeper instead of obeying her. (Where is Gaia? Madi “exiled” her, but what exactly does that mean under the circumstances? In any case, either she told Bellamy about Sheidheda before she left, or Madi herself did.)

Things got awkward when Bellamy didn’t accept Madi’s suggestion, and she pointed out that she was the Heda. Thing is, while Bellamy convinced Madi to take the Flame as a pragmatic move - because that was the only way he saw how to oppose Octavia and save Clarke and Spacekru (and Madi herself) and stop the war – he never genuinely cared about the institution (only about the fact that Grounders believe in it) and never meant to really give Madi the authority of a leader (as seen also in the fact that he and Clarke didn’t wake Madi up in 6x01). Because, duh, she’s a child. But Madi does take her role seriously – however, the reality is that the only people, other than Gaia, who care about her being a Heda and who would obey her, are all still in cryo. In Sanctum, Madi doesn’t have any kind of authority. But she also isn’t willing to listen to Bellamy or any other adult, who, in her mind, should be following her lead. This storyline is, finally, starting to address the whole issue that’s been plaguing the show since season 3, of the inherent problems of giving political authority to a child, and putting a chip with a bunch of dead leaders’ minds in a head of a child.

On the other hand, Jordan was focused on saving Delilah – especially since it seemed to him that no one else was interested in it. He accused Bellamy of caring only about Clarke, which he denied. Now, of course Bellamy – and all of them other than Jordan – care more about Clarke than about Delilah, which is only natural, because Delilah is just someone from Sanctum they met a few days ago – not a lover or a friend, just like it’s natural for Jordan to care a lot about Delilah, because she was his lover and he’s in love with her. That doesn’t mean that they wouldn’t also try to save Delilah, but the fact is, while they know for sure that Clarke is alive, they don’t actually know if Delilah is. But no one wanted to tell Jordan “For all we know, maybe she is really dead and gone”. I would really love for Delilah to be still alive, but at the moment, that doesn’t seem too likely. But it’s easy to see why Jordan can’t allow Priya to be killed, as long as there’s a chance that Delilah is still in there. (Not to mention, Madi’s plan is not good, as she only killed Miranda Prime in her current body – but her mind drive can still be transferred into another host, so it’s only the host’s body that is definitely dead, and the only person she’s definitely killed for good is Miranda’s non-Prime lover.) At least his saving Priya has helped get some goodwill towards the Earth group, who are currently in a very bad situation. Maybe Madi will take a step back and rethink things now that she accidentally wounded Jordan, and that her actions have caused trouble for her people.

Russell is still the same hypocrite, which didn’t surprise me at all. He may be all sad for the bad things he does, but he continues doing them anyway. One moment he was planning to take the mind drive from Clarke, to right the wrong of his attempted murder of her/ taking over her body against her will, and put his daughter into another, willing host (presumably another desperate “null” who gets the Nightblood treatment). The next, he was placing all in the guilt for the recent deaths of the Primes on the Earth people – even though his daughter was the one who killed Kaylee (which he is, of course, keeping a secret) and his daughter and his wife then went on to kill four of the Primes permanently). He wouldn’t even admit the truth about Clarke, if Ryker hadn’t called him out. Ryker is the only one of the Primes in Sanctum who has potential to be a good guy and be a real ally against the other Primes. While he called out Russell on murdering Clarke, Priya was only upset over Russell jumping the line for Josephine, which says a lot.

I don’t find Murphy’s behavior as surprising as some fans do. It is all in character for him. Yes, he does care about his friends, but he has never been an incredibly ethical person, and is still likely to be selfishly driven – and the only person you can be sure he would sacrifice for is Emori. But apart from that, it’s never easy to tell if he is going to remain loyal to his friends or act selfishly – and he’s torn about it. I do think that one of his motives in 6x06 was to make sure Bellamy and the rest of them don’t die, but his main motivation is eternal life for himself and Emori. Before season 6, he may not have been ready to go this far, but we know that he has a really strong fear of going to hell after death. Either way, the fact is that, even after learning Clarke was alive, he was still willing to go along with Josephine’s plan and let Clarke die for real to get what he wants. Even though he knew it was a shitty thing to do, and felt guilty – asking Josephine if Clarke can see him. But one moment when I really found him annoying was when he was trying to justify his BS to Emori and change her decision by pulling the “she wanted to put you in the oven”. What’s up with the selective memory, Murphy? Yes, Clarke and Abby, Jackson, Miller and Roan all planned to put Emori in the oven in 4x08, Raven complained but didn’t do anything to stop it (and all of those people other than Roan are alive and right there), but Clarke was also the only one who volunteered to go into the oven, instead of Emori. And the one who gave Emori her suit, risking her life again, and the one who stayed behind to die while helping Murphy and Emori, among others, go to space and stay alive.

In the end, he did do the right thing and help, but it was only after Emori had definitely chosen her side and wasn’t going to back down.

I’m really happy that Emori finally got the spotlight and got to really shine in this episode. She’s always been one of my favorite characters, and she has had an amazing development throughout the seasons. But up till this episode in season 6, she seemed to just be there as Murphy’s girlfriend. Memori is one of the best developed and most compelling romantic relationships on the show, but that’s in large part because Emori is a person of her own, not just Murphy’s attachment. Even the other characters in the story assumed she would take her boyfriend’s side and agree with all his plans. And at first, she did, after Murphy’s sort-of-proposal to her – which was, at the same time, really romantic and touching, and really creepy. He was asking her to have eternal life with him, but instead of an engagement ring, he was offering her mind drives. The Emori he first met in season 2 would have definitely agreed to that. She was even more ruthless in some ways than Murphy, and was the survivor that he believed himself to be – because she was a true outcast from birth due to the prejudice over her disability (while Murphy also had a tragic backstory, like many on the Ark, but after landing on Earth, he largely caused his outcast status by his own negativity, dickish behavior and vengefulness). In a subversion of the trope of bad boy redeemed through love of a good woman, he changed for the better through the love of a roguish antihero of her own. But, things changed when Emori found a new family and felt like she belonged, for the first time. She was already worrying about Clarke and wanted her saved in the season 4 finale – maybe she appreciated the fact Clarke risked her life for her, twice. And if any character makes Spacekru feel like a real ‘family’, it’s Emori. This was the source of conflict between her and Murphy in season 5 – she changed, found friends, so it wasn’t “the two of us against the world” anymore, and Murphy didn’t know how to deal with it, or how to function as a part of a group in times of peace. It caused a break-up, but at the end of the season, Emori was determined to save him even if it meant risking death. And this time, she chose loyalty to her “family”, telling Bellamy about the limited period when they can still save Clarke and being instrumental in helping save her – but she also did not give up on Murphy, and stayed with him in Sanctum after he was wounded, even though it meant they both get captured and probably tortured.

Her line “I will love you forever, even if we die today” is my favorite line of this episode.

Josephine is a really love-to-hate villain, and I was really enjoying watching Eliza Taylor play her in this episode, even while I really want her first out of Clarke’s body, and then DEAD permanently. But I’m looking forward to, hopefully, seeing more of Josephine and Clarke fighting over dominance. The next episode promises to be very interesting, as Bellamy just dragged Josephine from Sanctum and will take her to the woods to Gabriel – which means an interesting day trip (!) that will end in the area where people see their darkest fears and deepest desires… not to mention that detail that we learned, that the Anomaly also has the ability to interfere with/collect radio calls? Hm.

(There have been some comments about how Bellamy prioritized Clarke over the rest of the group, who need leadership/protection - but I don’t see any room for criticism there. Even if we ignored what she means to him, the fact is that Clarke is about to die permanently very soon and required immediate help. The rest of the group is in a bad situation, but not like that, and Echo is supposed to be capable enough as a fighter and a spy to deal with things.)

Speaking of which, the goodbye between Echo and Bellamy was very short and consisted of a simple exchange “Stay safe” and “Save Clarke”. I don’t know if it makes sense to talk about the writers’ weird tweet about this scene that a lot of people have been commenting on – because BTS statements, interviews, tweets etc. are irrelevant to canon. But I’ll just say this: if they wanted to make this moment a big, emotional one for Echo, they could have done it, very easily. Just write a few more lines, do a close-up, play some emotional music. It wouldn’t take more than 10-20 seconds. But they didn’t. They gave Memori and even Mackson (a pairing that similarly got developed off-screen, like Becho, and has even less screentime) dramatic, emotional “I can’t leave you” moments. Becho, on the other hand, just seemed like two comrades-in-arms, rather than a romantic couple. And after 5x06, that’s what they have come across most of the time (if it weren’t for one kiss per season or the sex scene from 5x06, these generally accepted markers of Canon Pairing, no one would even notice they’re a couple 95% of the time). Everything emotional about this pairing has been very low-key, in contrast to other pairings, and in sharp contrast to the Bellamy/Clarke relationship in particular.  So I’m not sure what the point of such tweet was.  (Or what it even meant. It’s not like Bellamy was waiting for Echo’s approval to take Josephine to Gabriel to save Clarke – he was already doing it anyway; and if it was difficult for Echo to let Bellamy go because it was risky for him – as the  tweet suggested – agreeing to let him leave on a risky mission doesn’t make her a hero. People separate and let their SO go on missions all the time. No one said Bellamy was a ‘true hero’ for letting Echo go on a risky mission in season 5. If they meant that it was big of her to be OK with her boyfriend prioritizing saving another woman, who he obviously has strong feelings for, that would make some sense. It’s possible to read Echo’s “Save Clarke” as a parallel to Clarke’s “Save him” in 5x12, as a “letting my beloved be happy” kind of thing, but that kind of feels like reading too much into it, because whatever emotional weight that tweet was trying to give that moment, wasn’t there on screen. )

Dr Abby FrankenGriffin and Marcus Kane II

In the most controversial storyline of this season, Abby actually went through with it, putting Kane in a body of a host from Sanctum, a “null” called Gavin, who was the first to get the Nightblood treatment. As per their deal, she gave the Nightblood to Simone to take back to Sanctum and make more hosts. (I don’t if the Primes will have the time to create more hosts and put Miranda and her family members, Caleb and Jasmine, considering the chaos in Sanctum right now.) Contrary to some fan theories, Abby has not realized JoClarke is not really her daughter – which is not a surprise: if she had known, she would have told it to Bellamy, Madi and the others and agreed on a plan with them, before going to the ship to wake everyone up. She was on the verge of realizing the truth, but her bad emotional state, lack of sleep, and the fact that she is still recovering from addiction, all contributed to her being successfully manipulated by the villain pretending to be her daughter. In 6x06, JC used all the weapons, as Murphy had taught her: Abby’s guilt over Jake, guilt over the Dark Year and shame over addiction, guilt over Kane, love for him and her idealization of him and obsession with saving him, and even her love for her daughter, by making it seem like it’s Clarke who wants her to use a mind drive to resurrect Kane, because she wants her mother to be happy.

And the show made sure we and Abby fully understood what was being done, by showing that Gavin was a person who had someone he loved in his life, but still believed that his life as worthless, because he had no prospects as a “null” – because, like most of the people in Sanctum, he was oppressed and brainwashed to think giving up his body to be possessed by someone else would be a great honor.

It is so sad now to remember the last happy moments for Kabby in 6x01, when they were looking at the new planet, full of hope. This a tragic storyline, and one we're obviously supposed to find creepy, just as we do. Kane himself certainly does. After waking up in the new, healthy and young body, and seeing his original body dead on the table, he had an expression of complete shock on his face. I can't imagine him being OK with profiting from murder and bodysnatching and being treated like a 'god' at the expense of someone else’s life. Someone else could be against it, but still rationalize coming to terms with it, as Gabriel did, thinking that he can't bring back the host, so why waste a new life - but Kane has never been pragmatic, he insists on morality and ideals. If I’m sure about anything that will happen, I’m now sure that he will die for real before the end of the season – both because Kane would never agree to live like that, and because the show would never continue with Kane played by someone else, and because I believe that all the Primes, including Gabriel, will die, and all the mind drives will be destroyed. I can see Kane dying out of his own choice, while telling Abby she must let him go, and getting a promise from Raven to wipe him for good. And I think Henry Ian Cusick may return at least once more before the end of S6, as Kane in a vision (the same way Sara Thompson plays Josephine in visions and mind space).

And Abby has to learn to let him go. She's been a downward spiral since season 4. She and Kane have had the opposite character developments. He started off doing bad things in the name of survival, then felt guilty and decided to redeem himself by doing better. Abby started off believing in ethics and ideals, and then when she disappointed herself and started hating herself for the things she had done, it broke her. She got addicted to dull the pain, then she felt guilty over betraying Kane by prioritizing her addiction and indulging Vinson, who injured/nearly killed Kane, so she became determined to save Kane. Now she's really exchanged one addiction for another, like Jackson said. But she's really crossed all ethical lines now. She is not the only character who has had negative character development, a fall from grace. I think she will probably get a redemptive storyline and help defeat the Primes when she learns the truth about Clarke, but I have no idea if the show will give her a story of recovery from addiction, or if she will have a redemptive death, or it will be a full tragedy of someone who stays broken, as with Jasper.

The weakest part of this season has been Raven’s characterization and storyline, or the lack of it. In this episode, she finally got to do something. Although she (rightfully) thought that what Abby was doing was terrible and wrong, and initially refused to do a spacewalk to help synthesize Nigthblood, she eventually agreed to it, so she wouldn’t risk Abby’s death, too. Which was a reasonable choice, as she couldn’t do anything at this point to bring Gavin back, so, as she pointed out as a reason for her decision, why risk losing another life. She didn’t mention the fact that Abby is very important to her, but I hope this is a start of Raven and Abby starting to heal their relationship, and of Raven getting the same “face your demons” treatment as other characters. Maybe she will start being more honest about her own moral compromises, which have been many in the past, rather than just keep going around telling people they suck but insisting that she, herself, has never done anything wrong.

Rating: 8/10

[vernonfielding]

Life Writes Its Own Stories

Chapter 8! (And on AO3, of course.)

I came back from my trip a day early, so here we go again. I should be back to posting a chapter every other day from now to the end.

Amy woke to a face full of sunshine.

She squinted her eyes closed and groaned, burying her face in her pillow. Several thoughts came to her, one right after another: Her pillow smelled weird, her pillow felt weird, and she had not once in the three years she’d lived in her apartment woken up with the sun in her face. Amy blinked her eyes open and rolled onto her back, and the night washed over her again, every lovely bit of it. She smiled up at the ceiling over Jake’s bed and then turned and smiled at the man himself.

He was asleep, curled up on his side facing her. His hair was a fluffy mess. One hand was tucked under his pillow, the other folded into a loose fist. Amy remembered falling asleep with his arm around her waist, holding her to him, but they must have separated in the night and now she was happy to indulge in watching over him.

She’d noticed from the moment they met that he was attractive, but over all of their shared meals and late-night outings, she’d never really taken stock of him: his full lips, his sharply defined cheekbones that were so often disguised by a smile or laugh, the dimple in his chin and the single, perfect curl that dipped over his forehead. His face, normally so expressive, was smooth in sleep and she thought about tracing the line of his brow, the ridge of his nose, the curve of his jaw. She thought about kissing his eyelids and waking him up.

When Jake had kissed her that first time a few days ago, she’d been momentarily overpowered by a physical attraction to him – and that was all she had thought it was, a gut-deep desire for a man who was undeniably hot. So she’d pushed him away, because kissing (that would likely to lead to much more than kissing) was absolutely not okay between reporters and their sources. Intimacy of any sort led to bias and poor decision making; it turned journalism into a trade industry.

Amy’s guilt and shame had been so profound that night that she swore she’d been marked in some way, as though even strangers would see her failure written on her face. It occurred to her that they had practically been dating for weeks -- that even before he kissed her, before she kissed him back, she had crossed a line. She felt awful for herself, for having betrayed her own moral code, and she felt awful for Jake, whom she had obviously misled.

So it was a gift that the next several days flew by in a crush of anxiety and exhilaration as she finally put her article to bed. She had no time to dwell on her personal mistakes when she was arguing over headlines with Terry and Charles and writing and rewriting every photo caption and fact-checking every detail, from the numbers in her bar charts to the hyperlinks and hashtags they would use on social media. On Saturday she convinced Charles to print out page proofs so she could do one last edit of the printed version of her story, and she suggested word choice and grammar revisions until finally, when they were on the verge of what was sure to be an embarrassing slap-fight over an Oxford comma, Charles shoved her out the front doors and told her she needed to relax and let someone wash her hair.

“I have just the person in mind,” he called after her, as Amy stomped down the block.

She’d slept fitfully that night, waking up just about every hour to check her phone. At daybreak, a post from the Bulletin Twitter account went out. Her favorite brother sent her a congratulatory email that Amy read over a breakfast of plain toast because she couldn’t stomach anything else. By noon, the story was viral (at least locally – it was never going to make The Daily Show, Amy kept reminding herself).

When the mayor announced on Twitter that he was personally looking into the jail situation and linked to Amy’s story, she was stunned and elated. And she was blindsided by a wave of sadness: She missed Jake.

She missed his smile and the way his eyes went soft when she was talking about something personal. She missed the way he tugged at his hair when he was looking over the documents she’d asked him to read for her. She missed his forearms when he rolled up his sleeves and the way his one eyebrow quirked when he laughed.

She even missed the gummy worms he consumed by the handful when they were meeting at a bar and he got snacky while translating penal codes, and she missed the ketchup and orange soda stains on her documents, and she missed having to rearrange all of her papers when she got home because he never paid attention to her tabs.

She just missed him. And she missed sharing this success with him.

Later in the day, when Gina had texted that the newsroom was getting drinks and it was definitely not because of her story but because they were all bored, Amy had been sitting at her laptop with a dozen tabs open on her browser for essays on journalism ethics and dating sources. She’d joined them for drinks because it seemed pathetic not to, and she’d been honestly touched by their support. But she’d also been miserable, because all she could think was that she’d messed up everything. Her life was amazing, and she’d screwed it all up.

Then Jake had texted. Just seeing his dumb code name appear on her screen had made her heart leap into her throat, and she’d known then that she couldn’t let him go. She had to at least see him, and try.

Now, she really did have it all. And lying in his bed, with the sun in her face and the smell of him in her (his) pillow, she felt content to just be. So she stared at him for a while, until the sun had shifted enough that it was blocked by the partly drawn curtains, and it dawned on her – so to speak – that she couldn’t remember if she’d set her alarm and she had no idea what time it was. She panicked for just a moment and quickly rolled over, hand slapping on the bedside table for her phone. She squinted at it – her contact lenses felt glued to her eyeballs – and sighed when she saw that she was only five minutes past her alarm.

Of course, she was going to need to go home and shower before going into work, and she’d wanted to go in early so she could check in with Terry and Holt before heading to Manhattan for the NPR interview, and she obviously hadn’t laid out her clothes the night before or set the timer on her coffeemaker.

Amy glanced at her phone again and did some quick math and decided that if she skipped coffee and didn’t wash her hair – it was just radio, it wasn’t like she had to look great – and planned her outfit on the way to her apartment then she could save six minutes, which still wasn’t ideal but she could make it work.

But then she glanced back at Jake, and the sudden pulse of affection for him pushed everything else aside. She could be a little late. She kissed his forehead, just beneath the curl, and each of his eyelids, and she covered his hand with her own as he blinked his eyes open and smiled back at her.

+++

Amy ended up texting Terry to tell him she was going straight into the city for her interview and he said that was fine. She didn’t get into the newsroom until noon, and by then she was famished and caffeine-deprived and still practically vibrating with joy. Her story had been a huge success and she had kissed the man she really, really liked and she’d had sex – three times! – the night before. The fact that they hadn’t fallen asleep until nearly 3 a.m. – because: three times – wasn’t a problem. Amy felt like she might never need to sleep again.

She spent the day working on a follow-up story around the mayor’s plan to investigate the jail recordings. She also fielded several unpleasant phone calls from the head of the corrections department and his deputies, until one of them demanded a full retraction and she finally had to pass them on to Terry and Holt to deal with, which was fine by her. They both had her back, and she’d never doubted they would, but it was still nice to be supported. So nice, actually, that by the end of the day, as Terry was editing her story, she started feeling guilty again.

“I have to tell you something,” Amy said, or rather blurted, when Terry had finished editing. It was 6 p.m. and it had been a pretty slow day so the newsroom was mostly cleared out; only Hitchcock was left, and he had his head pillowed on his arms at his desk and was snoring.

“Terry doesn’t love the sound of that,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her. “Oh man, are you quitting? You’re going to the Times already? I thought we’d get at least another year out of you.”

“No!” Amy said, then, “Wait, what? You think I’ll be at the Times in a year?”

“Uh-”

“Wow.” Amy tried to think of a more appropriate response. “That’s- wow.”

She sort of spaced out for a moment, until Terry cleared his throat and said, “You had something to tell me?”

“Oh, right. I did.” Amy shook herself out of her Times fantasy and reminded herself of the task at hand. Immediately, nerves made her stomach flutter and her palms sweat.

She’d considered waiting a while to tell her bosses about Jake, just long enough for them to actually start dating and see where things were headed. But that was her fear speaking, and she knew she had to do what was right. She swallowed hard, working up the courage to tell Terry. She really liked her job, and she was pretty sure they weren’t going to fire her but they were almost definitely going to make her change beats, which was going to be disappointing. But she had to be up front with them.

“Santiago-”

“I’m boinking my source!”

It came out as a sort of squeak-yell and Amy was glad no one else was around to hear her.

“Um, I mean, I’m dating him. Well, I guess not technically dating yet, but sleeping with him. You know, like-” She mashed her hands together in a movement that definitely didn’t connote sex, unless it was really bad sex.

“Yeah, I think I’ve got it,” Terry said, sounding both perplexed and slightly amused. “Well, this is...something that we need to talk to Holt about.”

Terry stood up and peered around her at Holt’s office.

“Now?” Amy felt suddenly like she might faint.

“It’s as good a time as any,” Terry said. He gently took Amy’s elbow and steered her across the newsroom. “He’s thrilled with your article and the response it’s gotten.”

“He is?” Amy said, pride pushing aside her nerves for a moment. “I mean, I knew he was pleased, but thrilled? Did he say that? Or are you just inferring? Because if he said that-”

“I can just tell,” Terry said. He paused outside Holt’s open office door. “Just be honest with him. And don’t say ‘boinking.’”

“Roger that.”

Terry tapped on the door before leading Amy inside. He asked if Holt was busy, and Holt said, “I’m always busy,” but he put down his pencil and invited them to sit.

Somehow, Amy pulled herself together. She explained, calmly, that she had developed feelings for someone who used to be a source, and that they had decided to start dating. She said that she had already informed him that she would no longer be able to use him as a source, and that if he told her anything newsworthy she would pass it on to one of her colleagues. She expressed that she wanted to keep covering the police beat, but she would understand if they didn’t trust her in that position anymore, and she would happily accept any new assignment they offered. When she was done, she folded her hands in her lap and squared her shoulders and forced herself not to think about what would happen if they fired her.

“I see,” Holt said, with no inflection that Amy could discern. “Well, it would seem as though you’ve taken the necessary precautions and insulated yourself from potential bias as well as possible. I see no reason you cannot remain on the police beat, for now. But note, I will be paying close attention, as will Terry, and if one of us believes you are compromised we will take action.”

Amy blinked, stunned that she was going to be allowed to keep covering cops. She smiled and nodded sharply, then stood up and stuck out her hand. Holt looked at her outstretched hand for a moment and then smiled a little and shook it. His grip was firm, and so was hers.

“I promise I won’t let you down, sir,” Amy said.

She turned and strode out of his office. She was just outside the door when she heard Holt say, “She knows she doesn’t have to call me ‘sir,’ right?”

“I don’t think so,” said Terry.

+++

Jake was pleased for Amy that her conversation about dating a cop had gone over so well with her bosses. It clearly helped ease her mind to have their blessing – or at least their not-firing – and that was great, he wanted her to be as relaxed and stress-free and not-guilty as possible when it came to being with him.

But there was no universe in which he was planning to similarly come out to the Vulture, or just about anyone else in the NYPD. He’d probably tell Rosa at some point – maybe, eventually; most likely after she figured it out on her own and forced it out of him – and it wasn’t like he expected to sneak around with Amy for the foreseeable future. He just would rather keep it between them (and Amy’s bosses) for the moment.

He was still in awe that there even was a them.

Jake knew he didn’t have much of a tolerance for wide-swinging emotions. In fact, his grasp on his own emotional health was at times staggeringly bad. He did a decent job keeping his feelings under control day to day – denial and compartmentalization were his go-to coping mechanisms and he excelled at both (thanks, Roger Peralta) – but when strong emotions hit, they hit hard.

Once, during a department-mandated therapy session after a lengthy undercover stint, a counselor had told Jake that he’d benefit from developing a toolbox of decompressing strategies for when things got rough. For some reason Jake had found the suggestion hilarious, imagining a literal toolbox filled with hammers and wrenches and pliers. When he’d mentioned it to Rosa, she’d said that bashing things with tools was exactly what she did when she was angry – that or glass-blowing – and Jake had actually bought a toolbox online that day. It was currently collecting dust in the back of his sneaker closet.

So yeah, he wasn’t great with emotions. And the past few days had involved a dizzying array of them. After the depressing lows that had followed their first kiss, the pure elation of their second kiss had been almost overwhelming. Jake had felt lighter and happier the next day than he could ever remember. He’d also felt exhausted, though it was a satisfied, dreamy, peaceful kind of fatigue.

They’d seen each other again that night, and every night after for the rest of the week, and though they’d had sex they hadn’t actually slept together again. They’d ordered takeout and turned on a movie and basically made out (and more) on his or her sofa until one of them yawned and they agreed it was late and they both had to get up early. It was kind of perfect.

Amy was kind of perfect.

But by Friday Jake had decided they needed a proper date, and so he chose a restaurant and made a reservation and texted Amy that he’d pick her up at 7. Then he and Rosa got called to a dead body, and a suspect in an unrelated robbery case they’d been working for two weeks had literally tripped over their crime scene, and by 6 Jake was covered in blood and subway muck and still had a report to finish. He texted Amy to tell her he’d meet her at the restaurant.

Which was how he arrived at their first official date almost half an hour late, hair still damp from the shower, fumbling the knot of his necktie as he pushed through the crowded foyer to the host station.

“What happened to your face?” Amy said, when he got to her side.

“What?”

Amy brushed her fingers over her own cheek and Jake did the same, wincing when he touched the small cut. “Oh, that.”

The host came then and glared a lot, but he took them to a table despite Jake’s tardiness. It was an intimate restaurant, quiet and dark with small tables clustered close together. The host handed them menus with a sneer that Jake had to believe was not in the employee handbook.

“Sorry I’m late,” Jake said, once they were seated.

Amy smiled back at him and shrugged. “I get the feeling it’s something I’m going to get used to.”

“You look nice,” he said. “I like the dress.”

“It’s not a dress, it’s a skirt and blouse,” Amy said, and then grimaced. “But, thank you. You look nice too. I’ve never seen you in a tie before.”

Jake ducked his head and ran a hand self-consciously over the wrinkled necktie. He’d only had time for about a two-minute shower at the precinct before coming straight to the restaurant. He was just lucky he always kept a spare tie and a semi-clean shirt shoved in the back of his desk for emergency court dates.

“So what happened today?” Amy gestured again to his face.

“It’s actually an insane story.”

“Wait!” Amy said, holding up a hand. “Like, the kind of insane I’d want to write an article about? Or insane like, your job is disgusting and/or hilarious but not fit for print?”

“Definitely the latter,” Jake said.

“Go on, then.” Amy leaned toward him, resting her chin in her hand.

“So Rosa and I got called to a dead body on the subway tracks near Bergen. But when we get there, the dead body’s actually a dog, and it’s been turned inside-out. Like, nose to tail. And the smell-”

Jake paused because Amy was shooting him a wide-eyed warning glare and darting her eyes back and forth. He looked to either side and saw that their dining neighbors were staring at him with looks of utter horror. The woman to his left set her utensils on the table and shoved her plate away.

“Uh, I’ll tell you the rest later,” Jake said.

“I think that would be best.”

They exchanged embarrassed smiles, and Jake said, “Well, what about you? How was your day?”

“Pretty good, actually,” Amy said. “It’s nice being back on the regular police beat after all that time on the jail story. Like today, I got to do this story on a severed head-”

“Oh! The one they found in the fish tank?”

“Yes!” Amy said. “You know about that case? It’s so crazy.”

“So crazy!” Jake said. “You should see the photos.”

Jake was reaching for his cell phone in his jacket pocket when he spotted the same lady on his left staring at him with murder in her eyes. He glanced back at Amy, who was getting the same death glare from a different diner.

“Maybe later,” Amy said weakly.

They turned to their menus then, each fairly mortified. After they’d ordered, Jake grasped for a more appropriate topic, and finally asked Amy to tell him more about some of her coworkers.

“I’m always going on about the Vulture,” he said. “What’s your boss like?”

“Oh god, nothing like Pembroke,” Amy said. “Terry, he’s my regular editor, he’s really gentle and supportive but he knows how to get the best out of you. And Holt is incredible. He’s so smart and ethical and detail-oriented, and he has impeccable news judgment. He’s the most impressive man I’ve ever met.”

“So, what you’re saying is I should be jealous of your editor.” Jake smirked at her.

Amy turned red and said, “No! He’s great but he’s not- I mean, I love Holt, but I’m not in love with him.”

Jake fully laughed, and it occurred to him that his maybe-girlfriend was not exactly suave and that he maybe found that adorable.

Amy waited out his laughter with only a mild look of annoyance, then asked Jake to tell her more about Rosa. “Police partnerships must be so intense. I bet you know everything about each other.”

“I know her first and last name and that she lives somewhere in Brooklyn,” Jake said. He hesitated and thought that over. “Probably.”

“Oh,” Amy said, face falling. The waiter arrived then with their dinner salads, and Amy leaned toward him and said, in a low voice, “Jake, are we bad at this?”

He didn’t respond right away. Things were undeniably weird. And he supposed some of that was to be expected, given that they’d always had a kind of invisible barrier between them when they’d met in public – a professional line they couldn’t cross. He snapped his fingers then, startling Amy into dropping her fork.

“I’ve got it,” he said. “I think things were easy before because we were always surrounded by all your notes and binders, and they were like, I don’t know, a fortress keeping out the weird.”

“Okay,” Amy said, slowly. “So you need me to bring binders next time? Because I can do that.”

“No,” Jake said, shaking his head. “Not binders – liquor.”

“What?”

“Conversation grease,” he said, lifting a hand to get their waiter’s attention. “Four shots of-” He glanced at Amy, who shrugged. “Your medium-est shelf whiskey.”

+++

They stumbled back to Amy’s place from the restaurant, both of them a pleasant sort of tipsy that was warm and giggly and affectionate, Jake’s arm slung around Amy’s shoulders, her fingers tucked into the back of his belt. When she let them inside, Jake backed her into the wall beside her front door and kissed her, clumsy and teasing. She fisted his tie in one hand to pull him closer and felt him smile against her lips.

“You,” she said, tipping her head back to speak, “are an amazing detective.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “I know,” he said, “but maybe be more specific?”

“The way you figured out why things were weird and then fixed it,” Amy said, and she cupped a hand over the back of his neck and pulled him toward her again, lips brushing against his. “That was brilliant.”

“Dear lord, you are good at this,” Jake said.

Then they stopped talking for a while. Jake took her hand and led them back to her bedroom, where he gently pushed her onto the bed and sprawled out beside her, and they undressed each other slowly and had sex on top of the bedspread, their bodies illuminated by the light coming from the hallway and the streetlamps outside her windows. After, Jake pulled the quilt she kept folded at the end of the bed up over them, and they laid facing each other, arms tucked under their heads.

“You never told me where you got this,” Amy said, brushing her fingertips against the shallow cut on his cheek.

He wrapped his hand around hers and kissed her fingers, one at a time, before answering.

“This robbery suspect Rosa and I had been looking for, he showed up at the dog-body crime scene, like out of nowhere. I think he was just going to get the train. He freaked out when he saw us and took off down the subway tracks, we pursued, and when I took him down we sort of scuffled and I guess he got in a hit or two.” Jake shrugged. “I didn’t even know he’d hit me until we got back on the platform and Rosa said something. I was way more focused on the fact that I was covered in subway slime.”

Amy shuddered at the thought. “I hope you’re up to date on your vaccines. I bet you can get diseases you’ve never even heard of from subway slime.”

“Or, if you want to look on the bright side, maybe I could become a slime monster. Oh! Like the Swamp Thing, only the Subway Thing.” Jake paused, a faraway look in his eyes. “That’d be so dope.”

“Didn’t you ever think it was lame that the Swamp Thing was just a ‘thing,’” Amy said. “Like, they couldn’t come up with a better description?”

“I had never thought that before, but I love the way your mind works,” Jake said. Amy smiled, and he smiled back and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

They grew quiet, and Jake traced patterns across her shoulder and down her arm with his fingers, whorls and lines that made her shiver. Amy studied his face and marveled at the closeness they seemed to have developed, despite knowing not a lot about one another.

Amy had been in relationships, two or three serious ones, but they’d always just fizzled out, whatever small spark that got them started snuffed at the smallest huff of irritation. What Amy felt for Jake, after only knowing him for a few weeks, already seemed more vibrant, more durable.

“Did I ever tell you my dad was a cop?” Amy said, soft in the darkness.

Jake’s fingers paused on her skin, and he laid his palm flat on her shoulder instead. “No, you’ve never mentioned him.”

“He retired a few years ago. Victor Santiago.”

Jake’s eyes went wide, and his hand squeezed around her bicep. “Captain Victor Santiago? He’s your dad?”

Amy beamed and nodded. “You know him?”

“I know of him. He’s a legend, Amy,” Jake said. “Oh wait, wow, so Manny and Jesus are your brothers?”

“They’re cops too, yes,” Amy said. “And Tony.”

“Yeah, Tony. He’s kind of a dick.” Jake grimaced. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t be. He is a dick.”

Jake chuckled, and shook his head slowly. “Wow, I can’t believe you’re one of those Santiagos. It never even occurred to me.”

“I guess there’s a lot we don’t know about each other,” Amy said.

Jake caught her eye, and he moved his hand to the back of her head and pulled her toward him, his mouth close enough that she could feel his warm breath on her lips.

“Tell me everything,” he said.

Amy kissed him, hard enough to leave him breathless. “Later,” she said, and rolled on top of him.

CHAPTER 9

[howwelldoyouknowyourmoon]

Why I Am Not A Unificationist

I’ve been a Unificationist since childhood. From then, until I was around 19, I had to eat all of the sadomasochism fed by Rev. Moon. My new Father. My new Messiah. I’ll take some time to go through them, but please be patient. I had been told that God was some sort of compulsive crybaby whose universe was forever torn asunder because two naked teenagers had pre-maritial sex in a garden. A step up from the apple and snake, I admit, but the Garden of Eden is still a myth no matter how you spin it.

Anyways, I was also told that human history was a convenient series of failures on behalf of the human race to understand the infinite sorrows of God. The Church painted said God, interestingly enough, as quite impotent. He was a servant to some pseudo-scientific law, called the Divine Principle: a lugubrious, confusing, absurd, and comical attempt to plaster Moon’s idiotic theology onto human history. Neon Genesis Evangelion’s myths made more sense.

I’m not quite sure if the Divine Principle was supposed to be a moral law or not, but I certainly was given that impression. I would be horrified and disgusted if the Principle was by any stretch of the imagination considered moral. This so-called morality dictated that again, because two naked teenagers had pre-marital sex in a garden, the Biblical wars against various tribes, the Crucifixion of Jesus, the Fall of Rome, both World Wars, the Holocaust, the Korean War, and numerous other tragedies, in the Bible and in history, were ordained by the Divine Principle to occur as payment for indemnity, or global karma. The Principle has weird ideas on proportionality. I don’t think that even Zeus, at the height of his maliciousness, would have approved of such a doctrine, so it would be doubly discouraging if a loving and compassionate God did. 

Why then does Moon praise the Principle with such fervor? Even it was true, it should have been condemned and resisted, even if the effort was futile. Of course, there’s always the idea that the Principle is brutally objective, but then, I don’t recall Newton’s Three Laws of Motion or the Pythagorean Theorem bluntly putting persons into sides of God or Satan.

Again, I swallowed this nonsense in my elementary years – I didn’t know any better. I think that I was still watching Power Rangers. So all of this made me very terrified of sex. Moon had a cute obsession with sex. If you don’t believe me, just look up the instructions for the 3-day ceremony. It’s quite revealing. He also said that if a pretty woman attempts to touch your penis, you should kick her 1,000 miles and God will praise you for it, but I’ll touch on his sexism later.

He just could not stop going on about the sexual organs and how they were at the center of the universe, or something like that. Easy enough to pledge abstinence when you’re young, but after puberty, I felt like I was walking in a nightmare. No sex until after I married, and Lord knew when that was going to happen. No choking the chicken, either, but when I did get the occasional slip of the wrist, so-to-speak, my whole being filled with guilt, as if I had committed a crime against God and joined the ranks of Satan.

I realize that abstinence is quite common among many Christians and even Muslims in this country, but at least they are allowed to date! Yes, because God certainly doesn’t want His Children engaging in the evil of DATING. Okay, so women were off limits until I married. At least I got to choose my wife. Oh, what’s that? My wife could be chosen for me? We might barely know each other before getting married? She might not even speak English? There could be a waiting period before having SEX? You know, there’s a word for people who have a peculiar interest in other people’s sex lives, they’re called perverts, and Rev Moon was certainly among them. Lord knows the countless unintentional pregnancies, STI infections, and abortions his teachings may have prevented had he taught instead about the options of masturbation and birth control.

Speaking of sexuality, Rev Moon was diseased with homophobia. I am sorry to say that I caught this disease as well. Moon referred to homosexuals once as dung-eating dogs and homosexuality as an activity that attracts Satan. He also said that those who love dung eating dogs, ergo people who support gay rights, will produce that quality of life. I’ve heard some homophobic statements from Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson, but Moon’s hate speech sounds like something you’d hear from Neo-Nazis. Yeah, I went there, but Moon’s words were straight up dehumanizing and condemnable. NO group of people deserve to be described in that fashion. Also, Moon himself said that Hitler and Stalin were reborn as new beings, and they declared him the messiah. So he seems to think quite a bit of their opinions.

In any case, many religions still have trouble with treating homosexuals as equals, and that’s a shame. I repeat, a shame. Moon could have learned a thing from Desmond Tutu. Even the 14th Dalai Lama supports gay marriage and Pope Francis, who does not like homosexuality, says that the Church has no right to interfere with the spiritual lives of gays and that he has no authority to judge gay Catholics. I grew out of homophobia after I grew out of Moon.

Then there’s this whole damned idea of Rev Moon being the Messiah. Hell, anyone can claim that. Just ask Father Divine, Marshall Applewhite, Elijah Muhammad, Jim Jones, or L. Ron Hubbard. We all know the story. Jesus asked Moon to take up the cross and suffer for humanity as the first True Parent. The whole idea being that Jesus was supposed to get married as opposed to being crucified. Now I wouldn’t force crucifixion on my worst enemy, but marriage on the other hand, should be a choice, not a requirement for joining heaven, as Moon teaches. I think that most people are comfortable with the parents that they already have, and don’t need fanatical ones from Korea.

What makes Moon so special that he should be the Messiah, anyways? It’s his word against mine. Surely, Jesus didn’t expect Moon to convince people on word alone. Except that he apparently did. To be honest, I believed that Moon was the Messiah out of pity. He does deserve some. His home country was torn apart before his eyes, and he had to suffer atrocious accommodations in a North Korean prison camp. No one should have to go through that. The pressure was all around me to convert. Certainly I wouldn’t turn against a man who suffered so much. Before I knew it, I was bowing before photographs and reading books I could hardly understand at six in the morning. For those who want a better idea of what I am talking about, check out the film, “Ticket To Heaven.” Moon, however, had a habit of romanticizing Korea as the center of the world. I don’t hate Korea. It’s a fine nation, but not a holy one. Since Moon cast North Korea as Satan and South Korea as God, he probably forgot to mention that “God’s” nation had brutal dictators like Park Chung-hee.

I could also go on about how, in face of separation of church and state, Moon crowned himself like a king in the Dirksen Senate Office Building, how he implored Americans to forgive Nixon who sabotaged the Vietnam Peace Talks in 1968, how he founded the Washington Times which spews climate change denial, and how he had at least one affair while dictating other people’s sex lives, but I think I’ve made my point. Moon is no more of a messiah than my dead goldfish. If you still want a Korean to admire, try Kim Dae-Jung.

In closing, you may wonder what exactly liberated me from my slave-masters? It was a woman named Nansook Hong, whose book I would implore all of you to read. She married Moon’s first son, Hyo Jin, and suffered unspeakable abuse, both mental and physical. When Moon was told of these things, he blamed her for not being a good wife. This is the sexism I was referring to earlier. Moon was more concerned about his magnanimous legacy than about the domestic abuse of his daughter-in-law. As I read her testimony and followed her journey, I found myself going through a similar one. By the last page, I left the church and freed myself from the depressing theology of Rev Moon. I live a happy life now. I’m not very religious, but I don’t hate religion. 

Moon didn’t learn a lot from religion. Many Jewish scholars see the Old Testament stories as metaphors to learn from, not literal historical events representing the Cain and Abel dichotomy. If Moon really understood Jesus, he would have lived more like Gandhi, Tolstoy, or even Shaliene Woodley, as opposed to Donald Trump or John D. Rockefeller. The Qur’an opposes collective punishment for crimes done by others and would be disgusted with ideas like indemnity. While both Buddhism and Hinduism see atheism or agnosticism as acceptable spiritual paths, Buddhism more so. Moon denounced godlessness as Satanic.

I would like to thank HWDYKYM for giving me a healthy space to express these thoughts. As you can see by the length of this, they’ve been bubbling beneath the surface for some time now. I know that I may not have not have gotten everything right as far as Moon’s doctrine is concerned. I simply speak from my own experience – what I was taught, what I had believed. I hold no ill will towards current members, by the way. Many of them are still beloved members of my friends and family, just don’t expect me to go to workshops.

Sun Myung Moon’s theology used to control members

Divine Principle – Parallels of History

Sun Myung Moon  – Restoration through Incest

Moon’s Theology of the Fall, Tamar, Jesus and Mary

Nansook Hong, transcripts of three interviews

Nansook Hong In The Shadow Of The Moons, part 1

[venusintimbs]

because

you’d stopped texting me back for two days after being a habitually prompt respondent. i was not supposed to call you when i got home from boston. i caved because in part i was getting worried about you. but you were doing great, it turns out, you were having lots of fun with your new roommates (much younger) and trying to engage with, well, younger students otherwise. i say deliberately that my research presentation went well. you said oh sorry yeah, i forgot i’d had an appointment at the same time. not even a “congratulations,” or an “im sorry” or “good luck” before you missed it.  i said i didn’t think you’d attend because you’d stopped responding to me. you said oh i’d just hidden the notifications from you so i must’ve missed your messages. now that you had new roommates for friends, and new undergraduate freshmen to flirt with, you didn’t need me anymore, so you were no longer thinking about me or wanting to reach out.

long time ago you screamed at me when i accidentally set off the fire alarm in your kitchen. you said “stop looking at me” and if i wanted to just stand there being useless, then go stand in the hallway.

you’re always so addicted to your phone - when i’m with you, you actually hardly talk to me, just messaging your gambling buddies (once, it was other women on dating apps). 

the entire time i was in boston i couldn’t help but be heartbroken the whole time, reminded of the worst thing you ever did: you confessed to me, after a fight, that you’d planned me a surprise trip to boston the whole time, and how you didn’t have any “side chicks" and i was overreacting for nothing. i said that i’d love to go still - you said okay, but later. you ghosted me for a few days after that  and it turns out you had just decided to go to boston on a whim. later, later on, you told me how you took an old friend-with-benefits to this very upscale hotel in boston that you’d meant for me, and how you fucked her in it (a “friend” you had mutually liked for a long time because you actually super get along and she’s “the only” woman who gets your sense of humor, but then she ghosted you once she got engaged, and she came crawling back to you after the relationship didn’t work out...)

whenever i asked you, communicating that i had a feeling that you were no longer interested in something exclusive, you lied about not seeing other women multiple times before you finally confessed to me. i knew something was up when you made weird excuses not to see me, and no longer wanted to have sex. but you had said “of course i wouldn’t sleep with girls behind your back, that would be so messed up...”

you bought lingerie and sex toys for a much yonuger girl you were just using to satisfy your sexual needs. you tried to pass these off as presents to me later on. i knew they were not, because i left them at your house, and after we made up and decided to commit, you returned them saying that they gave you buyer’s remorse.

you tried to pressure me into a threesome (your unfulfilled sex fantasy) with any one of my friends. you decided not to when i looked uncomfortable, hesitant. and of course it was one in which you got two women - not that i’d also be able to have two men.

after we spent a nice afternoon driving around hamden, you said you had such a boner thinking about the hot girl on instagram with amazing tits, HER TITS WERE SO AMAZING and she was totally your type (which i never was). 

you totally would have asked the cashier out if i hadn’t been there with you.

but it’s not your fault i’m this insecure...

you claimed you didn’t owe me anything back then because we weren’t “technically dating.” back them,. though, you said “we’re practically dating anyway, i just don’t do labels.” putting me in a position where you could take all you wanted fo me without feeling obliged to reciprocate. you were the one who wanted me to start sleeping over at your place after we became physically intimate... you rushed the situationship so quickly back then, which was unsettling.

weirdly enough you never had any criticisms, ever, zero, of other girls you’d dated in the past, when most men will normally have some sort of complaint about why it didn’t work out. these are women who wounded you deeply by leaving you for another man because you were a serial cheater. yet i’m the one who’s super insecure, immature, and mentally a four year old, and how nobody normal and healthy acts like i do.

you were thinking about reaching out to the past woman after you looked her up and found out she was engaged to the man she left you for - a situationship that ended really badly and was completely over. i really doubt she’d ever want to hear from you again, and out of the blue at that, when she’s celebrating and planning her marriage. i don’t know why you are still thinking about her like this when you supposedly really love me.

you were always on dating apps while at last committed to being my boyfriend. after i confronted you, you said you decided to turn off your tinder profile (note: not delete). soon afterwards you were using hinge right in front of me. and you blamed me for making a big deal out of it and that this is just how you are, you like to look and you didn’t even do anything.

you kept bringing up a fun time you had meeting a teenager at a friend’s party, while you were on vacation in california and had slowly ceased to reach out to me with affection. after we technically broke up, you told me about how you were gonna sneak her into a bar (!??!?!?) and take her shopping for winter clothes (even though this was the summer!??!?!). i told you that you never took me out to a bar. you said “what? you can’t even drink!” you’ve definitely seen me enjoy drinks.

you call me a bitch and motherfucking cunt during our fights, but i call you a piece of shit, so.

you can never supposedly remember certain things that you tell me, i always supposedly remember the weirdest or most insignificant things....

i called you when a social worker called me to say you were admitted to the psychiatric ward. even though you’d texted me earlier that day saying that it wasn’t going to work out, and you no longer wanted to meet my parents (a milestone YOU’D volunteered).

when you found out your mother had cancer i showed up at your house with your favorite drink (poetically, something you’d discovered with that other woman). i drove out to buy your favorite junk food because i knew you hadn’t eaten again. i agreed to watch some movies you’d picked out to cheer yourself up (you spent a good amount of the time raving about how sexy the actresses were, and how incredibly blessed their husbands must be..). i let you borrow my car to see your mum for her first chemo, and for you to get your first driver’s license so you could see her more regularly (!!). 

i was the only woman who probably ever tried, really tried, to get you back into school once i could see how broken you felt not being able to face your licensing exams. you hadn’t even touched school in six months, which is the era you fell “head over heels” with another woman whom you wanted to date. (for some reason, early on, i was led to believe i was special for being the one who was meant to be something more than either a hook-up or a friend).

you were so affectionate, gracious about paying for meals, giving me surprise presents when i was new and fresh and you were still trying to win me over. gradually, you stopped cuddling after sex, even though you know i just like to cuddle, and eventually you told me you got bored of sex with me too, naturally.

you were more than happy to book two weeks to see your female friend in california while you were there for a wedding... but it was like pulling teeth to get you to spend an afternoon with me because you were stressed or just didn’t want to.

you started my birthday reminding me how i burnt your oven and made it all disgusting that one time (and i cried feeling guilt and shame, but mostly hurt). i’d booked myself an airbnb honestly anticipating that i’d feel like shit over my birthday weekend. for some reason i felt compelled to invite you, buti did not receive a penny for the gas or for the lodging after you offered to split the cost.

supposedly you didn’t have the time to prepare anything for my birthday, not even a card or a note. but you did have plenty of time to buy yourself so many nice new clothes, and later on for your roommates as well. oh, and the whole time you spent hours a day chatting with your online friends who help you gamble... people who will give you the conversation you need, but with whom you don’t have to face any real social repercussions then the relationships go awry. because they tend to, with you.

[scaredykate]

processing fees

tw: emotional abuse, tw: gaslighting, tw: sex, tw: grief

i’m not really sure how to begin this, and my blog that i hardly use is probably not where i should be talking about it, but i wanted to put this somewhere: i was in an emotionally and mentally abusive relationship for almost two years.

it took me a while to realize this, and there are still days where i waver back and forth on whether or not it’s actually the truth or if i imagined it all. but i’ve been coming to terms with what happened to me, and forgiving myself for not knowing sooner, for that strange kind of guilt that comes with healing, etc etc

the story is this: i “dated” someone in scotland for a month or so, back in the fall of 2015, when i had first moved there. i use quotes because our dating relationship consisted of us hooking up every day for several weeks and not telling anyone about it. it was a weird time in general--i met him on my second week there, he was one of only seven people total in my master’s degree program. i had no close friends at all, he was absurdly charming, and seemed to be very intently interested in me. when i left california for scotland, i was still heartbroken and vulnerable from a previous relationship, but then all of a sudden, someone was into me. it made me feel seen, which i felt like i was starved for. he was talking to me all the time, and openly pursued me, asked me out for coffee, very respectfully only kissed me on the cheek. it felt too good to be true. 

it escalated quickly and then, seemingly out of nowhere, he broke up with me because i didn’t feel comfortable having sex with him, saying he couldn’t see himself with anyone who he couldn’t share that with. he left my apartment after, but came back that very same night, said he just wanted to hold me. that he just wanted to be with me for a little while, begged me not to be angry with him. we got back together and broke up and got back together again over the span of a few weeks. all the while, things were... let’s just say... intense, both physically and emotionally between us... then he broke it off for the final time. 

i had been so invested in him (at the time, he was really my only “friend” there in scotland) that when he asked to remain friends, i said yes without thinking about it. i always stay friends with my exes, i told myself. and honestly, i felt so alone and isolated, i felt like i NEEDED to stay friends with him. i wanted to be with him still, held onto the “good” parts, like the things he’d said to me while we were still together, and the kind things he’d done for me. i have an addictive personality, and i had allowed myself to become attached to him, and i think that’s where some of this blame/shame that i would deal with later came from: i felt like i had done something wrong, like i deserved punishment. 

we were “friends” for the full year and a half i lived in scotland, and for a solid six months after i got back to CA. again, i use quotes, because looking back on it now, it wasn’t quite... friendship, exactly. i was his emotional girlfriend for most of that time, where he would rely on me when he was feeling sad but then describe to me in varying levels of detail (knowing full well i still had feelings for him) his conquests at the club, and who he wanted to, for lack of a more tactful term, fuck. when i was feeling lost or alone or scared, he would be invested the minimum amount to convince me he cared, but when i opened up to him, he would return with things like “i don’t know what you want me to say to that” or “why don’t you just relax? it’s not a big deal.” 

eventually, it came to light that he had broken up with me not because of the sexuality issue, but because he was still in love with his ex-girlfriend. this comes into play because fairly soon after i returned to CA, he was seeing someone new, someone he’d met in the club, but he had just found out that his ex-girlfriend (who he was still very much not over) had moved on and was seeing someone else. it absolutely crushed him. he was miserable. when we facetimed, he described how depressed he was, and i could see it, and i ached for him, wanted to make it better for him. he would often tell me after we had finished speaking over the phone how there was no one else who listened to him the way i did. this kept me holding on to this idea that i was good for him, that we were good together, that he made me happy and i made him happy, and so on and so forth. 

he broke up with the girl from the club. he started seeing someone new, who he would talk about frequently. i stopped asking about his life because hearing him talk about her or seeing their pictures together made me feel physically sick. he asked me why i never asked about his girlfriend. he knew full well i had feelings for him still. everyone told me to cut him out of my life, that i couldn’t keep on living like that. i would describe it later in a poem as “begging for my own existence”--everything about me was wrapped up in him and what he thought. 

i used to explain away his poor treatment of me with things like “but he cares about me deep down” or “he’s just hurting!” or feel like maybe i just thought i was being mistreated but i wasn’t really, but in essence, whenever i would appear to lose interest in him, he would say something that kept me hooked. 

the last time we facetimed, it was when his girlfriend was away. we chatted for a while, but it was a bit stilted, as i had started to place some distance between us over the last little bit of time. later, he asked me “am i still cool?” over text message, and when i asked him what he meant, he explained “i mean, how do you feel about me now?” when i told him i no longer had feelings for him, he said how happy that made him, and said it was probably because he’d been giving me space for my own good, twisting my own hard work to make him look better, more righteous. 

i truly believe it wasn’t intentional, his actions and words that kept me clinging to him. but the fact of the matter is, i spent two years of my life in a relationship that was fundamentally toxic, and i had no idea that i had been abused, because i was so convinced that i couldn’t be abused by someone who i cared about, and who cared about me. and everytime that thought would even cross my mind, i would tell myself i was being too dramatic, and i needed to, in his casual, blase way he always said it: just relax. 

this kind of thing doesn’t just... go away. even when i’m past the EVENT of trauma, even if the spell i felt like i was under has dissipated, the haze has cleared, even though we don’t speak anymore, it’s still something that drastically changed and shaped me. something for which the healing took a long, long time. like an earthquake, there are still aftershocks. and healing is not a linear process, as my wonderful friends have often reminded me, so that i will be kinder to myself as i move forward. 

just recently, i started to have feelings for someone properly for the first time since this happened to me. he pursued me for a little while, but he didn’t catch feelings for me in return, even though he wanted to. he communicated this to me in a kind, sweet, vulnerable way. i won’t lie, it still hurt. it was confusing and heartbreaking, and i cried for what felt like hours. instinctively, i could have easily reverted back to “this is my fault, i am unlovable” because that’s what my abuser made me feel. but this boy is not the boy who abused me. in fact, they couldn’t be more opposite. i’m friends with him now, and our friendship is healthy. our friendship is good, and pure, and has no ulterior motives. he is not using me, i am not using him. it’s good. it’s so good. 

i guess what i’m trying to say is that i’ve been healing. i’m still healing. i will continue to heal. and bright spots like my new friend, and the old friends that helped carry me through the hardest days of my life, make the process bearable. there will be bad days, and good days, and everything in between. 

but i am okay. i’m okay. 

[thesocialfables]

“So you met his imaginary ass brother today, huh?” Syn questioned Amina as she wrapped thick glossy lips around the White Owl the group had stuffed with Gelato Cookies.

“Oh, he definitely wasn’t imaginary.” Amina responded, smiling brightly and working to pair the White Owl with a Backwood of Hindu Kush.

“I told you, you was gone like him.” Legacy bragged, working to stuff his ripped Dutch with OG Kush. “He corny as hell, just like yo ass.” He said before ignoring yet another phone call to his phone.

“Why don’t you just turn it off?” Syn asked before showing off her perfectly pearled blunt. “Pay up motherfuckers!”

“Whatever, you get the ripped shit next time.” Legacy said tossing the tragic blunt aside and picking up his phone. “And I can’t. Fuck around my Momma be on the beach screaming my name.”

“So what was his weird-ass name?” Syn asked lighting the blunt. “You still gotta roll that by the way, honey. Otherwise, you ain’t hitting this.”

“Hitting what?” Legacy flirted as Syn rolled her eyes at his charm.

“This,” She said passing the blunt to Amina, before lifting her leg open to tap on her pussy. “Or this.”

Legacy kissed his teeth as Amina answered her question. “Reynard. He almost shit himself talking to me, though.”

The group all laughed as Syn lounged back in the bean bag chair, and lit the second blunt for their rotation. “Reynard? That’s weirder than weird.”

“I like it, it’s distinguished. Better than Rain.” Legacy and Syn both agreed that Rain was better than Reynard and the two of them would be perfectly corny together. “Whatever. He’s super cute too, Syn. Like- I can’t wait to be on some Ghost shit with him at the bookstore.”

“Y’all gone be killing, motherfuckers?” Syn joked as she choked on the smoke from the blunt. While Amina explained she meant the movie, Legacy just shook his head.

Legacy was the baby nobody saw coming. Before he was born, his parents had officially called it quits and had separated. Before a small backslide led to six more years of them trying to make their relationship work. All of his life, his father had lived elsewhere. Whenever the man did spend some time with his boys, it was usually over at their grandmother’s house, since at any given moment Desmond could be involved in some shit that they didn’t need to see. So he grew up on all of the things kids his age considered old.

“How you be knowing all of this shit?” Syn said attempting to pass the blunt. However, Legacy was still trying to work with the ripped cigar. “Just give it here.”

“Naw, I got it.” As Legacy’s lips wrapped around the blunt, Syn watched closely growing wet watching his lips and tongue work the cigar.

“Do Reynard got them lips though?” Syn joked and Amina agreed.

“Oh yes. His might even be a little bigger, though. And sexier, definitely sexier.” Legacy stuck his middle finger up at the girl before sitting back on the couch inside Amina’s pool house. “So, I’m I getting a neighbor or what?”

“I don’t know. He gotta talk to Moms first. She might let him if Heir says so.” Legacy ignored the two girls’ predictable comments about his older brother, and silenced his phone once more, while he continued talking, “She been babying Rain ever since she had post-partum.”

“How do you know all of this? Ain’t you the baby, Little Man.” Syn teased as Legacy swap blunts with the girl.

“Man, when you got that many kids, adults don’t give a fuck what they say in front of you.” He said, and Amina agreed. Coming for a big family herself she could relate to learning the secrets behind the family secrets before she even knew who they were talking about.

“Why you two just don’t hook up, y’all got so much in common?” Syn questioned and both of her friends looked at her. “Oh, because of me.”

Amina rolled her eyes, while Legacy gave Syn the reassurance she needed to know she was the only girl he was fucking – on this side of the city. “He got a girlfriend though. I ain’t tryna get involved in no drama this summer. I wanna go off to college, guilt-free. Make all my mistakes there, and then bring my ass home.”

While Legacy was of course going to Smithdale University Uptown, Amina was going to Dépänd School of Art in Mamey Grove and Syn would be going all the way to Harmon College in Mason. He didn’t know he had a choice between the two girls when they first invited him over, Amina being more reserved about her intentions with the boy compared to Syn. However, when Legacy heard she was going miles away for school – he chose to spend his time down at the beach in Syn before going off to college.

“Oh, you finally texting her back?” Syn asked as the group swap blunts and she noticed Legacy texting. “Or is that your Mommy.” She teased.

“Naw, this Karin.” Legacy said with a smile. “She on her lunch break.”

“That’s yo favorite, ain’t it?” Amina asked, noticing the genuine smile on Legacy's face with every push to his screen.

Legacy responded by nodding his head with the same goofy smile Amina now couldn’t get out her head, “I been fucking with Karin since I knew what to do with it.”

“What?” Syn asked sitting up to look Legacy in his eyes. Amina looked over to the girl to see if she detected jealously in her tone, while Legacy didn’t look up until he was done texting Karin back. “What the fuck you doing, sending that bitch a novel?”

“Woah!” Both Legacy and Amina called out with laughter, as Syn tried to walk back her slip up.

“You not, catching feelings are you? This not that. We talked about this.” Amina checked her own phone to avoid being caught between the temporary lover’s quarrel. Especially after Legacy finished up his statement by saying, “And don’t ever call her out her name again.”

“Relax, I’m sorry for offending you and little Miss Karin. I was just caught off guard. I thought all your bitches were new bitches.”

“Syn, he just said.” Amina sweetly injected, as Syn went to explain she didn’t call Karin a bitch specifically. Legacy just shook his head. He really liked fucking Syn, she treated sex like a bucket list of things she wanted to do before going off to college. It would be a shame to have to cut her off so early in the summer because she couldn’t keep her emotions in check.

“It’s cool. I probably should’ve been more open.” Legacy teased, recanting the ‘rules’ Syn had for him before they began sleeping together. “Only new bitch is you. I’ve been fucking both of them for damn near forever.”

“See, I didn’t know that. That changes things.”

“How?”

“You don’t think they got feelings for you? One more missed phone call and Ta-ta-da-licious gone come find yo ass. And I don’t want that type of drama. Right, Amina.”

“Leave me out of this.” She said before sitting back on the mismatched wicker love seat and focusing on her cell phone and her own entanglements.

“Me too.” Legacy said attempting to pass the blunt to Syn, who just stared at him. He wanted to just call it a night and go back to his father’s house and talk to Karin for the remainder of her break, but Syn’s chinky doe-eyes caught him in a trance. “Karin got a real boyfriend, so you ain’t gotta worry about her.”

“And the other one.”

“She ain’t even got a car.”

“Neither did you a few weeks ago.” Amina added. As Syn tried to use her comment to justify her jealous, Legacy stared at Amina.

“See, you was supposed to be on my side. Now, I’m not giving you Reynard number.”

“You weren’t giving it to me anyway!” Amina shouted sitting up, as Legacy leaned in to switch blunts with her instead of Syn, he showed her a text from Rain saying it was okay if he gave the girl his number. “Oh my god! Syn, be nice.”

“Damn, bitch, you that thirsty for some dick?” She shot before standing. “Gimme my blunt, I’m going home before Little Man gets the spot blown up.” Amina rolled her eyes before passing the girl her White Owl back. “If y’all can just pick names now, why the fuck would you keep Little Man, little man.”

“Man shut the fuck up and take yo hurt ass home. Don’t nobody smoke no fucking White Owl anyway.” Amina tried not to laugh as she sat back and worked on her message to Rain.

“I bet you would like it if I went home. Test the product before you send it off to your brother. That’s what you do, right?”

“It was hard not to tell him I already met Heaven’s fine ass.”

“And don’t tell him how old you is either.”

“Why not?”

“Reynard do not break no rules.”

“Well, shit how old is he?”

“It don’t even matter. You say 17, he gone say too old for you.”

“Really?” Syn spoke up, breaking Amina and Legacy’s laughter.

“I’m not finna chase you, Syn. My dick good, it’s okay. Now stop trippin’ and sit down.” Amina rolled her eyes before heading into her bedroom inside the pool house, while Legacy motioned for Syn to sit next to him on the couch. “Or you can go home, flick your bean, and just wish you was still here with me.”

“You stink.” Juliette’s voice called, causing Legacy’s eyes to open. Taking in the view of his new-old bedroom, he dodged the sun from his splitting headache. He had no idea how he ended up back at his mother’s house. “Why you in my house, anyway?”

“Dang, Momma.” He said sitting up slowly and quickly checking to make sure there wasn’t a girl somewhere inside the room with him. “I was only supposed to be gone for a few weeks. You and your little boyfriend kicking me out now?”

“Don’t worry about me and mines. What you looking for? A girl. I already put her out.” Legacy just stared at his mother. He may have been fucked up, but he was 100% sure his mother was not this clam after finding another girl in his room this month.

“No Momma, I’m not. I actually kinda missed you.” Legacy spoke, it was the truth. He wanted to come and see the woman yesterday when he asked about coming to get some more of his clothes. But she claimed she wouldn’t be home and sent Rain instead.

“Boy, save that shit for your little girlfriend. You ain’t missed shit but a bath. Get up and get that fucking car out of my driveway. And now, not later. Matter fact, get yo ass back in it and go back to your Daddy’s house.” Legacy chuckled to himself as he listened to his mother continue to talk about him as she headed up the stairs of his house.

Grabbing his keys, he followed his mother’s orders and headed outside to move his car. Stepping out into the sun, Legacy felt like a vampire as he shielded his eyes and rubbed his head to soothe his splitting headache. That was until he heard,

“Oh shit! The champ is here!” from the porch of his brothers’ house next door. Legacy had no idea what Dasun was screaming about. Looking back at his mother’s house, he figured she’d be okay for a few minutes as he walked over to the porch.

“What you talking about?” Legacy questioned, cuing Shadow and Dasun’s laughter.

“Yo ass really was fucked up last night, huh?” Heaven questioned, as Legacy looked at three of his older brothers – utterly confused.

“Okay, what happened for real? Cause he shouldn’t know shit.”

“Oh is that’s a house arrest joke?” Heaven defended himself, before continuing, “So why the fuck you call me first?”

“Call you for what?” Legacy questioned over Shadow and Dasun’s laughter.

“You gotta come get me, Heaven. I don’t wanna die.” Shadow teased, recanting Legacy’s after-hours distress call he put out to all his brothers.

“Just don’t tell Heir. He ain’t gone let Reynard come live with me.” Dasun finished up before laughing uncontrollably.

“And when the fuck did you start calling him Reynard?” Heaven asked in-between his own laughs.

“When he fucked up apparently.” Shadow answered before he and Dasun went back to laughing over each other.

“Man,” Legacy said checking for his mother while his brothers teased him. Before stepping closer to Heaven, who had found the perfect spot on the porch to stay out of their mother’s view.

“Naw, move Big Man! This spot only works for one nigga.” Heaven said pushing him away.

“Would you fucking clowns just tell me what happened?” Legacy asked stepping back to look at his brothers all laughing at him, with tears forming in their eyes.

“Oh shit, you alive?” Rain asked stepping outside. Even his girlfriend, Kendie, seemed to know how Legacy had gone from fucking Syn on Amina’s couch to waking up in his old bedroom smelling like 1942 and sourdough bread.

“Will you tell me what happened?” He asked, but Rain’s eyes diverted to Kendie, trailing behind him.

“I just know how much you love me, bro.” Legacy accepted Rain’s joke, simply because it obviously had something to do with girls and he couldn’t explain it all in front of Kendie.

“Whatever, nobody told Heir, though right?”

“How you think you got here? I couldn’t come to get you.” Heaven said and Legacy began to throw a fit while his brothers all laughed at him. Pulling his phone out of pocket to see if there was something in it that could point him in the direction he needed to piece together his missing hours.

“Stop teasing him.” Karin’s voice filled the porch as she whispered through the house’s screen door to avoid being detected by Juliette.

“Hold on, I know you didn’t sleep in there.”

“Relax slugger. She slept in my room.” Heaven said igniting the porch’s laughter as Legacy slipped inside to talk to Karin since his brothers were going to be no help in helping him understand what happened last night.

“I did not. Well, I did sleep here. But not in Heaven’s room. Kendie and Rain – Reynard – slept on the couch.”

“That’s what he said his name was.” Legacy said, knowing he could trust Karin with anything.

“So you did introduce him to that girl. I thought you fucked her, already?” Karin inquired. She had been trying to figure out what Legacy had been up to down at his father’s since a Facetime call was interrupted by his late-night smoke buddies.

“She’s not my type.”

“Oh, so she single.”

“What happened!” He called for Karin to tell him, as he sat down on the couch to figure it all out himself, texting Amina first and then looking over his messages to Karin.

“Okay, easy killer. Tanika threw TaKisha a party last night. I guess she ended up getting into Smithdale after all.”

“What?” Legacy said. Now, much more concerned with that news than whatever happened.

“Yeah, guess y’all gone be seeing each other more than you thought.” Legacy shook his head while keeping his eyes on Karin’s petite frame as she disappeared into the kitchen for a moment. “Anyway. You must’ve shown up to her party around one or two. You called me after I got off at 4:30 and said your brothers wouldn’t come to get you and you were too fucked up to drive. I had my sister drive me over there, picked you up, got in your car and I brought you back here. I was gonna gone home myself, but that bitch took my car out west.”

“How the fuck you getting your car back?”

“Well,” She started and Legacy shook his head. “Don’t. I literally picked you up from another bitch’s house.”

“Fair enough.” Legacy said still going through his phone to figure out what else he had done.

“Apparently you and him fought, like y’all always do.”

“Well, you need to keep your boyfriend on a leash.” Karin just stared at Legacy. He was the one who started the fight.

“You just need to leave big boy drugs to the big boys.” She said before heading back into the kitchen.

“Why y’all keep talking in riddles?” He called to the girl, looking at all the Snaps he had taken from the party. Thankfully, not one had Karin, TaKisha, or Syn in them. Even fucked up, he was still player of the year.

“You took some Pure last night. And nobody called Heir.” Legacy relaxed a little, as Karin passed him a cup of coffee, an aspirin, and a quickly made breakfast sandwich of scrambled eggs, cheese, and a sausage patty. Legacy took the aspirin and coffee but refused the sandwich, “You gone want something on your stomach when you start going through withdrawals.”

“Withdrawals?”

“What you think Prue is? It’s Molly and Coke, you gone have withdrawals. Unless your little thotiana hooked you up with another pill.”

“At least, Heir don’t know.” Legacy said sipping his coffee

“Well, he was there.” In a dramatic response, Legacy spit the coffee out and Karin screamed. From the porch, he could hear his brothers laughing – assuming Karin had got to the part when Heir locked the boy in a room by himself to wait for Karin to come to get him.

“Why was he there?” Legacy asked as Karin closed the door to drown out his brothers’ laughter.

“It was a party, and he sells drugs. Look, Deangelo on his way to get me from my Aunts.”

“I can take you home.”

“Can you take me to get my car?” Legacy paused for a moment. He had nothing to do and wouldn’t mind driving the girl to West Catlin to get her car from her trifling sister, but that felt like a boyfriend’s job. “Exactly.”

“I’ll do it.” He said, mostly because he didn’t want Karin to leave just this second and wanted to spend time with her since he was sober.

“Thanks, Little Man, but- Deangelo already don’t believe that I’m not with you. And after y’all childish ass fight, he could use the win.” Legacy rolled his eyes thinking about Karin’s boyfriend. What he said last night to Syn was true. He had lost his virginity to Karin, but he had also been beefing with her boyfriend Deangelo since then. “When did you and TaKisha start fucking around again anyway? Cause I still ain’t even seen a carpet fiber from your momma house.”

“You always at work.” Legacy mumbled and Karin smiled, before leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“I don’t have to work tonight or tomorrow. Soon as I come back, and ditch Deangelo. I’ll take you to my nephew's garage.”

“He got some fucking heat in there yet?”

“Beggars can’t be choosers.” She said grabbing her purse and heading towards the back of the house to escape without Juliette spotting her. “Also,” She said doubling back to whisper in Legacy’s ear. “TaKisha has been fucking with Quentin, lately. But then again you probably knew that. That’s why you fucking her, witcho side piece ass. Bye!”

“Bye.” Legacy flatly said watching Karin leave the house. “Wait, what?” He called back to her. However, Karin was long gone. Looking over his shoulder to make sure the door was close and Heaven couldn’t overhear him, Legacy called TaKisha to speak directly to the source.

“What?” TaKisha answered the phone after two rings, however, her tone made it clear she was not happy to hear from the boy.

“What you mad at me or something?” He said playing it cool and moving back towards the kitchen.

“You ruined my party by fighting your ex-bitches boyfriend. Then your brother had to lock you up like a fucking animal because you wouldn’t clam down. On top of that, you called me Karin, Syn, and Amina. Whoever the fuck they are. Then you told me it didn’t matter what my name was anyway. Because you were just gone forget us all when you go off to college. The same college I’m going to by the way.”

“Congratulations?”

“What do you want, Legacy?”

“I wanna make it up to you.” He said leaning on the kitchen’s island, and looking towards the front door to make sure it was still closed.

“Oh really? How the fuck you gone do that Legacy? I don’t want your little dick after you done showed it to everybody.”

“I really hope you mean figuratively.”

“No, literally nigga. I told you not to take that shit. But you were too focused on Deangelo to even hear me.”

“I’m sorry, Kisha. Please let me make it up to you.”

“How, nigga? You fucking embarrassed me. You lucky my boyfriend wasn’t there. I didn’t even ask you to come.”

“You called me like 100 times.”

“For Heir’s number, motherfucka. If you weren’t so busy ignoring me, you would’ve known that.” Legacy just shook his head, thinking to himself So why would I just show up to your party? Especially, after I had just got me some ass. “I told you to stay your high ass down at the beach. You were already done when you finally called me back. But nope. Nobody can ever tell Little Man, shit.”

“That fucking moonshine.” Legacy mumbled to himself, reminded that after he and Syn finished fucking, Amina came out of her bedroom with a bottle of the strong liquor for them to drink. “So, how you get Heir number?”

“Legacy, I’mma talk to you later.” Before she could hang up, Legacy begged her to stay on the phone. Admitting that he was just trying to understand what happened last night. “We both know how I got Heir number. You know I’m dating Quentin now, that’s the only reason why you so interested me. That, and the fact, Karin dumbass stuck here working at that warehouse and ain’t got no time for your bullshit no more. Go fuck your brother and leave me alone.”

“Aye!” Legacy called out. She was right. The only reason why he started having sex with TaKisha, to begin with, was that her older sister was Tanika, Heaven’s girlfriend. And as quiet as it was kept, Heaven had tried to talk to TaKisha first, but she was too young for him. So he settled with Tanika. And now with TaKisha dating one of his oldest friends, it was like Legacy was doubling down on pissing Heaven off. “I told you I wanna make it up to you. But if you just gone be mean, I guess I’ll just talk to you later.”

“You still ain’t told me how you gone make it up to me, nigga.”

“Wanna go to the beach?”

Even Legacy believed staying with Desmond would be a cakewalk, but he was still trying to prove himself to Juliette with rules almost as ridiculous as hers. So Legacy didn’t even bother with trying to sneak TaKisha into his father’s house with all the alarms he had set up to alert him of Legacy’s comings and goings.

“Can we not go in the house?” TaKisha asked as they sat in the driveway. “You could’ve took me back home if that was the case.”

Legacy just sighed heavily, as he wanted for Amina to text him back. Although she and Syn had been friends longer than him and her, she was cool as hell, offering her pool house up to Legacy to use whenever he wanted. Since he couldn’t have girls over past a certain hour at Desmond’s. He was just waiting for her to give him the go-ahead. Afraid that Syn would forget what they discussed and show up to ruin everything.

On the other hand, with all the complaining TaKisha had done all day long, he was wondering was all of this really worth getting under Heaven’s skin. Legacy respected all of his older brothers, even Shadow. Heir took to the streets to provide for them after Desmond was locked up, while Dasun was the family’s protector ready to beat whoever he had to up for the boys, and Shadow as like Mr. Mom – since he was cooking and cleaning up behind his babies anyway. While living with Heaven, was hell. Stuck in the middle flying under Juliette’s radar, Heaven got away with murder. Starting little fires to distract their mother from the bullshit he was up to behind her back. While Rain had grown up to just accept this was the way things were, Legacy never forgave Heaven for the beating he got after Juliette rushed home early one day to find Legacy and Karin alone in their apartment. Meanwhile, Heaven was stealing her house key to make his own copy, so he could come and go in the dead of the night while she was sleeping.

“Come on,” Legacy spoke to TaKisha after Amina finally texted him back. She assured him that Syn wouldn’t be a problem as the two were going Uptown to a nightclub and the pool house was all his. “And don’t ask me a bunch of questions. Last time I kicked it with you, we was stuck in a living room with your dying uncle.”

“He is not dying. It’s just an oxygen tank.” To get through the rest of the night, Legacy just envisioned the look on Heaven’s face when he found out that he was fucking his best friend’s girl. “Damn, your Daddy rich as hell. We going in here?” TaKisha commented along their walk through the backyard and down to the beach.

“Didn’t I say don’t ask questions?” Legacy said, peeking through the window of their pool house to see if it was still unlocked. At this point, he’d fuck her right on the sand just to shut her up.

“I ain’t know you were serious.” were TaKisha’s final words as she quietly followed Legacy down the beach towards Amina’s pool house. “Can I talk at least?” She questioned once they were inside. However, Legacy was done with hearing her voice as he grabbed her waist tightly and pushed his lips against hers. Parting her lips with his tongue, Legacy multitasked kissing her with lifting the girl’s body to sit her on the counter of the kitchenette and reaching up her skirt to pull down her panties. “Fuck,” TaKisha moaned out as Legacy’s kisses moved down below. “Legacy,” She moaned out. At first, he thought it was from the work his tongue was putting in. That was until she called it three more times in a row before pulling his head from between her legs.

As Legacy went to question what she could possibly want now, He noticed Amina and Syn standing in the doorway of her bedroom. As Syn began laughing loudly, Amina spoke up. “I thought you meant, in like an hour or something. We haven’t left yet.”

“You said go head.” Legacy spoke getting off his knees, as TaKisha slid off the counter to stand behind him.

“Yeah, ‘go head’, in like an hour or something. You didn’t even say you were back, already.” While Syn just continued to laugh, Amina figured she’d be the adult in the situation and introduce them. “I’m Amina, and this my girlfriend-”

“Symera.” Syn spoke, stepping closer to shake TaKisha’s hand, but Amina pulled her back.

“Don’t mind us, we were just getting ready to leave. Just lock the door behind you.”

“Oh, but baby,” Syn said playing along with Amina’s lie. “Wouldn’t you rather stay here and finally get to know, TaKisha right? Little Man talks about you practically all the time. We can stay for just a little while right babe?”

“Naw, y’all should get going. Maybe another time.” Legacy spoke up eyeing Syn.

“Legacy cut it out. You said you were trying to make up ruining my party. So far all we did was eat salty ass pretzel and stare at the ocean. We could’ve done that on the boardwalk.” TaKisha spoke up, excited to get to know anybody close to the boy that was not one of his lying ass brothers.

“We have a reservation though, honey. Maybe next time you’re here.” Amina said pulling Syn towards the door.

“We can cancel them, babe. Please, just for a little while.” Syn asked pulling out a blunt and sitting down on the couch she and Legacy had just fucked on less than 24 hours ago. “You smoke?” She said as she patted the seat next to her for TaKisha to take. “You could just go home, Little Man. I’m sure she’d have more fun with us anyway.”

“Get your girl, Amina.” Legacy said as Amina just shook her head. She was officially out, as she just went into her bedroom. She attempted to save Legacy once more, by slamming the door behind her. Hoping that would convince TaKisha that they should go.

“Don’t worry about her. She’s all bark and no bite. We wanna meet our puppies?” Syn said with a conniving smile.

“I love puppies!”

“How you explain this, crazy?” Legacy asked cornering Syn in the kitchen after TaKisha went outside to talk to Quentin. One blunt had turned into two. And those two blunts turned into shots and a conversation Legacy thought would never end.

“How come, you never went down on me?”

“I don’t just put my mouth on everybody.”

“Good thing I do then, huh?” Syn asked leaning into Legacy’s face and blowing him a kiss. “Relax it's not like its Karin. You shouldn’t care anyway, right?”

“You know fucking you wasn’t as crazy as you are, I’d stop fucking with you.”

“Please, you not gone stop fucking with me because you don’t even know what you want.”

“I know I what I want.” Legacy said. His voice was firm as an indication that he was not impressed by Syn’s actions, yet his eyes raked over the girl’s body quickly sucking the air out of the room as Syn reluctantly smirked at Legacy’s intense gaze.

“Oh really?” She purred adjusting her body to face Legacy inside the kitchen. “So how come Ta-ta-da-licious has now seen your new house, spent the day with you at the pier, and met your bestie back there. Meanwhile, your favorite is where exactly? Do you even know?”

“Shit, did I say something to you when I was drunk?” Legacy asked, peeking out the window to see TaKisha on the phone. He couldn’t hear the girl, but from her body movements, he believed she was arguing with her boyfriend.

“You mostly talked about Reynard. You’re pretty lonely in that house, huh?” Legacy looked at her. And Syn grew silent for a moment. She was used to drinking moonshine with Amina, but it was clear now that Legacy was not. “I’m sorry, you really don’t remember, huh? I promise I didn’t do this not because I’m jealous. We told you not to go to that party. You don’t want that girl, Little Man. You just mad at Heaven because he spending all his time with Rain now.”

“What the fuck? That’s even true.” Legacy said walking away from Syn and heading towards the door to go outside with TaKisha.

“I’m sorry, you said it not me.” Legacy quickly turned around to tell Syn she was wrong, but he didn’t need to say the words. Obviously, his drunken heart had spoken words his sober mind wasn’t ready to hear aloud. “Okay. Look, me and Amina about to leave. Don’t be mad at me. I thought I was kinda helping by cockblocking. But if we all,” She spoke with emphasis, hoping Amina would come back her up so she didn’t seem like she was just making this all up to be a hater. “Just gone act like you didn’t just pour your heart out about your brothers, then fine, keep doing you. Long as it includes doing me. Until you and your boo thang go off to Smithdale.”

As Legacy went to still tell Syn how wrong she was, Amina finally came out of her bedroom to add to the conversation. “She’s right, Little Man. You got pretty emotional about Reynard, and being alone. Then you said were going to her party to fuck her and her sister since Heaven couldn’t leave the porch to stop you.”

“Finally, thank you, babe. Your dick is good and everything, but I would much rather be your friend. You love Karin and your brother, I get that. That’s why I know you do not wanna do this.”

Legacy paused for a moment, looking at both Syn and Amina. He absolutely was lonely down here on the beach without his brothers, and that time he spent with them today was probably the most fun he had all summer. “What the fuck I’mma do when I go to Smithdale?”

“It’s not that long of a drive.” Amina answered rationally, while Syn spat out,

“Ta-ta-da-licious will be there to keep you safe.”

As Syn laughed and apologized once again, Legacy rolled his eyes before opening the door and stepping outside to check on TaKisha. Just in time to hear her telling Quentin everything from where she was to who she was with. With tears forming in her eyes, and Quentin’s voice booming through the receiver, Legacy smirked a little. His dirty work was over, all he had to do now was return to sender.

That was until his phone began buzzing with texts from Heaven;

Q don’t fight Big Man, hope Desmond down there teaching how to shoot

This gotta be the dumbest shit you’ve ever done. All because of a whopping you got at 14?

You better call Heir, cause they only Heaven that can help you now is God’s

[scatter-the-stars]

Who wants to read the first chapter of my next multi-chapter fic I’m working on?  If so continue on.  If  not then it’s been nice talking to you.

"I want you to give me an orgasm."

Perhaps dropping that piece of information on Blaine when he's taking a drink of his beer wasn't the smartest idea.  Because beer ends up spraying everywhere.  Over the tabletop and his shirt and face.

"Shit!  I'm sorry."  Blaine coughs and reaches for napkins from the small dispenser that sits on the table.

Kurt grabs a few and wipes away the spray of beer on his face.  "Sorry about springing that on you in that way," he apologizes.

It wasn't his plan to just blurt that out to Blaine like that.  In fact, it wasn't his plan to say anything.  When he asked Blaine at the beginning of the week to meet with him, it wasn't for this reason.  It was just supposed to be for another fun night out of drinking and hanging out like they've done hundreds of times before.

But his friend Mason had to go and fuck that up with what he said a couple days ago.  The reminder of what he said making him jealous even still.

'I think that guy gave me the best orgasm ever last night,' Mason had said with a satisfied look on his face.

It has stuck with him since then.  Replayed in his mind like a horrible song he can't stop singing in his head.  And it sucks.  Mainly because it made him think how he's never had that.  When it comes to sex with a guy, there has never been a so called happy ending for him.  And he's had enough.  He wants to experience what all his friends have had.

That's how he finds himself smelling like beer and watching his best friend looked stunned as he wipes at the table.

"You know when I said you could come to me for anything?  This is not how I imagined you would take me up on that offer."  Blaine smiles to show he's only teasing.

"I know.  It's just..."  Kurt runs his thumb around the lip of his beer bottle.

"What?"

Now that he thinks about it, this is a stupid idea.  To ask his best friend to give him an orgasm is a sure fire way to ruin everything between them.  Sex should never be brought into a friendship.  Never.  Not even when both friends are drunk.  Because it never ends good for anybody involved.

"Never mind.  I shouldn't have asked you that.  Just forget I said it."  Kurt hopes and prays Blaine does just that.  He's already embarrassed himself enough tonight.  If he mentions why he wants that from Blaine, it will only further his embarrassment.

Blaine eyes him curiously.  But he doesn't press the matter further.  "Okay.  Let's order some food, then.  I haven’t eaten since lunch, and I am starved."

Kurt lets out the breath he was holding.

                                                       ••••

"Kurt open the door," Blaine says as he knocks.  "I brought pizza."

Kurt walks over and opens the door to Blaine holding a six pack and a pizza box.

"What happened now?"

Blaine walks past.  "I need a reason to see my best friend?"

"The last time you brought pizza and beer was because you just broke up with Quinton.  You got drunk and cried until you passed out on my couch."

Blaine winces.  "Not my best moment."

"No," Kurt agrees with a small laugh.

"I promise this is not that.  I'm here just to hang with my best friend.  If that's a problem, I can leave."

Kurt grabs the pizza box when Blaine makes a show of turning to leave.  "Don't you dare.  This smells good and I'm hungry."

"Good."  Blaine sets the beer down on the table next to the pizza box before walking to the kitchen.  "I've been thinking about something," he says as he grabs a couple plates and walks back to the dining table.

Kurt picks a slice of pepperoni off the pizza and eats it.  "About what?"

Blaine sets the plates down on the table.  "What you said Saturday night."

Kurt immediately tenses.  The last thing he needs is for Blaine to bring up how big an idiot he made of himself that night.  He just wants to move on from it forever.  Wishes it could be erased from both their memories so it can never be remembered or mentioned again.

It’s moments like this that he wishes the procedure from Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind was real.  Because if it was, he would have Blaine forget that conversation ever occurred.

"Why were you thinking about that?" he asks, holding out hope that this isn't about that particular subject.

"Because I was wondering why you would ask me that."  Any hope Kurt had vanishes at Blaine's words.  This is something he's going to have to face.  "It didn't make sense," Blaine continues.  "Then it did."

"It did?"  Kurt walks to his kitchen and grabs some napkins.  He does his best to avoid looking at Blaine; at seeing what might be in his eyes.

There's the sound of heavy footfalls as boots meet hardwood floor.  Then Blaine's voice comes from nearby.  "Have you ever had an orgasm, Kurt?"  There's no humor or judgement in his voice when he asks that.  Only normal curiosity.

"Yes.  I've had an orgasm.  It's not that."  Kurt acts like the napkins are the most interesting thing to keep his attention.  "I've just never..."

"Never, what?"  Blaine is closer.  Close enough that Kurt feels his breath brush the back of his neck.  Close enough he can smell that scent that is distinctly him.  "Kurt," Kurt shivers at the hand that goes to his hip, "you can tell me.  I won't judge you."

Those words bring a comfort to Kurt.  That's why he asked Blaine.  Because he knew he wouldn't judge him; laugh at him.  Not for the request or the reason behind it.

So, with a deep breath, he finally reveals the truth to Blaine.  "I've never had an orgasm with another guy during sex."

The hand on his hip gives a gentle squeeze.

"Look at me, Kurt."

After what he's revealed, Kurt is too embarrassed to face Blaine.  He would rather have the floor open up and swallow him.  Spare him the embarrassment and shame.

"Kurt," Kurt keeps his head down when Blaine turns him around, "I'm not judging you."

"I know," Kurt says in a small voice.  Blaine's finger under his chin tips his head up so he's now gazing into deep hazel colored eyes.  The same eyes he's loved since he first saw them over ten years ago.

Blaine strokes his thumb over his chin in a comforting gesture.  And Kurt fights from pressing in for more.  "Why did you ask me?" he curiously asks.

"Because..."  How does he tell his best friend that he heard him having sex a couple months ago and that he can't stop thinking about how the guy he was with sounded?  How he wants that?  "Iheardyouhavingsexafewmonthsagoandwanttofeellikethat."

Oh.  Like that.

The words rushed so fast and jumbled out of his mouth, it's a wonder if Blaine understood him.

"Yeah, I'm going to need you to say that again.  Slower this time."  Blaine chuckles.

Kurt takes a deep breath.  On the exhale, he says, "I heard you."

Blaine gives him a curious look.  "You heard me?"

"Yeah.  A couple months ago.  I stopped by your place to ask if you wanted to go have breakfast with me.  When I walked in, I heard you with someone.  You were having sex. And the guy you were with sounded so pleased.  I stood there and listened and was reminded that I never had that.  That I wanted that."  He notices Blaine's brows furrow in surprise and shock.  "I'm sorry," he's quick to say after realizing just how wrong what he did was.  "I'm so sorry."  Kurt steps back and around Blaine and walks over to his small dining table.

He drops his head in his hands and breathes.  Tears from embarrassment and shame sting his eyes.  All he wants is for Blaine to leave so he can crawl into bed and cry alone.

The hand on his lower back makes him jump the slightest.  "Kurt?"  Blaine says.  "I'm not mad at you."

Kurt drops his hands.  His voice comes out small and filled with regret and guilt when he speaks.  "You should be."

"I'm not, though."  Blaine moves to stand next to Kurt, hip resting against the table.  "I just have one question?"

"Just one?"  Kurt acts as if grabbing a slice of pizza from the box needs his full undivided attention.  He can't look at Blaine.  Can't see whatever may be in his eyes.

"Okay.  I have more than one."  There's a hint of laughter to Blaine's voice.  "What I want to know, though, is why me?"

"I just-"

"No," Blaine interrupts him.  "I know that reason.  I want to know why me?"

Kurt looks at him unsure how to answer that.  "How is my reason any different to how I would answer that."

"Look at it this way: if you hadn't heard me, would you still have come to me?"

Oh.  Now he understands what Blaine is asking.

"Yes."  A blush stains Kurt's cheeks.

"Okay.  Why?"

"Um..."  Why Blaine?  What is it about him that made him choose him?  He could have gone to any of the other people he knows.

But when he really thinks about it, there's something he feels about Blaine that isn't there with anyone else he knows.  It’s a connection to him that is stronger and deeper that he doesn’t have with his other friends.

"I trust you," he says.  "I knew you wouldn't laugh or judge me.  I'm comfortable with you.  I knew you would be able to give this to me without it being weird."

"That's true.  So," Blaine takes a step closer to Kurt, "are we going to do this?"

"I do."  Kurt takes a breath, then he tells Blaine about the downside of all of this.  "But what if this ruins our friendship?  What if one of us gets hurt in some way?  Besides, it might not even work out.  There's no knowing if you're attracted to me or if I'm even attracted to you."  He's not entirely sure why he says that.  Because he's had some sort of attraction to Blaine since the day he met him.

Where he expects Blaine to reply with one of his normal snarky remarks, that's not what happens.  Instead, he suddenly finds him pressed up against his back with one of his arms wrapped around his chest; hand gripping his upper arm.  He opens his mouth to ask what he's doing, but the words die in his throat when a hand rests on his lower belly.  Fingers stroke over heated skin when they slip under his shirt.  Heat surprisingly unfurls in his belly.

"This okay?"

"Um...Yeah."  Kurt isn't entirely sure what Blaine is doing, or is trying to accomplish.

Fingers slowly travel down until Blaine's hand is covering his denim covered cock.  A soft, surprised oh falling from his mouth.

"B-Blaine..."  Hands reach up to grasp at Blaine's arm across his chest.

This is so unexpected.  So far out of left field that it's a bit hard to fully grasp that it's actually happening.

"You want me to stop?"

A part of him wants Blaine to stop; to end this before it crosses a line they can't uncross.  But another part, a part that far outweighs the other part of him or thought of this being wrong, wants Blaine to continue touching him.

"No."  His voice comes out breathy.

At his answer, Blaine starts to gently and tentatively palm his quickly hardening cock.  "What are you feeling, Kurt?" he softly growls into his ear.  "Tell me?"

It's then it occurs to Kurt what Blaine is doing.  He's not being strange.  He's not being weird.  He's simply helping him search for an answer he already knows.

Eyes fall closed and Kurt lets himself experience every sensation that Blaine is creating in him.  There's the heat in his belly that unfurls and spreads outward to every inch of him.  The embers of pleasure that tingle and pulse.  The need that is starting to consume him like a fire.

"Tell me, Kurt.  What do you feel when I do this?"

A soft moan escapes Kurt as he clutches at Blaine's arm as he continues to palm him over his jeans; as he tentatively rocks his hips forward.  "W-Want."

"Want what?"

Eyes open and he turns his head to look at Blaine when he replies.  "Want you."

A pleased grin spreads across Blaine's face.  "I think that answers that question."  He stills his hand and moves it away.  "I'm gonna go ahead and head out."

Kurt turns to face Blaine when he steps away from him.  "You're not gonna stay to eat?"  Stay to finish, he thinks.

"Nah.  The pizza was just an excuse to see you and talk about your...request."  Blaine grins.  "I'll call you and we can discuss when to do this."

"Alright."  Kurt walks over to the door and holds it after Blaine opens it.  "Thanks...for everything.  I guess."

"You're welcome.  I'm happy to help.  I'll talk to you later."

After Blaine leaves, he tries to act like everything is normal; like he almost just didn't let his best friend get him off.  He eats a couple of slices of pizza and watches TV.  He finishes a some work that he's been putting off.

But when it becomes too much, when he can no longer ignore it, he goes to his bedroom and undresses.  He climbs into bed naked, wraps a hand around his still hard cock and strokes himself while thinking about Blaine.

Afterwards, while standing in front of his bathroom mirror while cleaning his stomach, Kurt takes in his flushed expression.  The weirdness he expected to be there after getting off to thoughts of his best friend isn't.  In fact, he finds he liked it.  Enjoyed it more than he will ever admit out loud.  Not that he would ever mention what he did out loud to anyone.

As he crawls back into bed, he can't help but to think that what he just experienced is a good thing.  Because if he's fine with jerking off to thoughts of Blaine without feeling weird or wrong, then he should be perfectly okay with sleeping with him.

[justsomebucky]

The Friendly Wager (Part 3)

Summary: AU. Reader and Bucky Barnes are neighbors and best friends. After yet another bad date, reader comes home to find Bucky with his typical weekend target. They decide to make a wager about dating, but is there more on the line than reader cares to admit?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 2,978

Warnings: language, fluff, sarcasm, complete and utter denial, social drinking, cheese - I needed something this fluffy ok? haha

A/N: This is my submission for the lovely Kait’s ( @bionic-buckyb) 5k AU Challenge. Congrats on the followers, friend! My prompt was “Can you please come over so I don’t feel so alone?”

Part 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7

The sun was shining so brightly for the first time all week that you found yourself incapable of concentrating on your work. It didn’t help to know your best friend was out having fun in this unseasonably nice weather without you.

The restaurant didn’t open until evening, so he got to spend a lot of time during the day doing whatever he felt like doing, and you were completely envious. Your job had you sat in a sterile, boring lab while you worked the day away, and sometimes the night, too.

You wanted to go out and play.

Your supervisor, Bruce Banner, was a nice man, a super genius, and he could read people like a book. He would be able to tell if you were lying about being sick. No, you had to come up with something a little more urgent than that.

There was another way to do this. You reached for your phone, typing out a short message to Bucky.

Hey, can you call me on my cell real quick?

We never call each other, why can’t you just text?

You rolled your eyes, wishing Bucky could see your reaction.

I’m at work, but I don’t want to be. Help me play hooky, okay?

With your phone safely back on your desk, you tried to make yourself look busy with some simulations on your laptop.

The sound of your ringtone cut through the silent room, and Bruce looked up. “Aren’t you going to answer that? It’s so loud, I can’t hear myself think.”

“Sure, sorry about that,” you replied, thanking your best friend in your head. You pretended to be concerned. “Oh no, it’s my mom.”

“Make it quick,” Bruce told you, turning back around.

“Hello, Mom?”

“Hey there, Doll,” Bucky drawled out. “Wanna come out and play?”

“Mom, slow down! What happened?” You feigned a heightened concern.

“Oh, nothing too much, I just got back from the gym. There was this ridiculous redhead there, I’m talking tight-“

“Mom, that’s terrible!” you exclaimed, causing Bruce to turn around and stare at you. “I’ll be there as soon as I can! Just tell the doctors I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay?”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”

“I’m so sorry, my mom fell, and she’s really scared because she’s by herself, and-“

“Go on,” he said, waving you out the door. “She’s just out on Long Island, right? We can manage without you for half a day, I think.”

“Thank you, sir,” you said hurriedly, grabbing your phone and bag. “I really appreciate your kindness.”

He merely let out a ‘hmph,’ and kept working.

You weren’t about to stick around to find out if he really bought it. You raced toward the exit, and your temporary freedom.

---

“That was kind of fun,” Bucky told you, squinting to try to see you in the beautiful sunlight. “Ya know, listening to you lie through your teeth to your boss.”

The two of you were laying side-by-side in the grass, in a park near your apartment building. You figured no one from Stark Industries would try to come find you and drag you back this far away from Stark Tower.

“Yeah, it’s super fun to lie to someone,” you muttered, frowning up at the blue sky and fluffy white clouds above you.

The guilt of lying and skipping out on work hit you; this wasn’t something you did. It wasn’t like you at all. “Now I have to make sure my bad karma doesn’t actually come around to really make my mom fall or something.”

“Don’t feel bad about it, Y/N, you work constantly. You’re never available during the week, and you deserve a little fun and relaxation before it gets dark outside once in a while. When’s the last time you took a day off, anyway?”

Bucky was the king of finding ways to cram fun times in during the work day. He got to do fun stuff like go sample potential restaurant vendor’s foods, or scope out a meeting room for a corporate catering event. He got to be out and about more than one would expect, because the head chef where he worked was insistent that he train him properly before he retired and Bucky took over.

You pondered his question. “I had a day off around New Year’s.”

“See! That’s ridiculous to go that long without some paid time off. You’re crazy if you feel guilty.” Bucky scooted closer to you, pointing upward. “There’s a cloud that looks like two rabbits having sex.”

It so did not. “It looks like flowers.” You gestured to the sky. “See? Those are flower petals, not rabbit ears, ya pervert.”

“Your observations are not only really innocent, they are really wrong,” he insisted, turning his eyes toward you again. His laugh lines made an appearance, and you realized just how much you’d missed days like this with Bucky.

You smiled at him, but it soon fell when you saw his expression change. “What’s wrong?”

Bucky shook his head, eyes serious. “Nothing.”

“I know when something’s bothering you…”

He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I think…I think Max’s retirement is happening sooner than later. I think that’s why he encouraged me to take this upcoming week off. It just feels like the calm before the storm, I guess.”

Only Bucky would see a promotion that way. You rolled to your side, propping your head up on your right arm to face him. “You’re ready, Buck. I know it.”

He didn’t say anything for a minute, then looked away from you, back up to the sky. “Maybe.”

“No maybes.”

For a man so confident with everything else, Bucky sure knew how to second-guess himself with work.

“As someone who has seen the masterpieces you can create, and someone who is very picky, let me assure you that you are definitely ready to take over as head chef. You’re so talented, Bucky, and the staff all love you. They believe in you, and so do I.”

His eyes flickered back to yours, before he sat up all the way. His arm wound around you, forcing you to sit up, too, until you were tucked under his arm and into his side. You shifted so you were a little more comfortable, but didn’t protest.

“Thank you,” Bucky said softly, squeezing your arm a little.

---

You and Bucky walked back to your apartment building together, but you left him at his own door so you could go take a shower. You were pretty sure you still had grass in your hair, despite his best efforts to pick it out for you, and you didn’t want to feel gross for later.

Bucky had called his friends Steve and Sam, and you called Wanda and Vis to come over for poker night. It was a rare occurrence for a Thursday night, but the six of you hadn’t hung out in a while, so everyone seemed really eager for a fun night of losing money to friends.

You helped set up snacks and alcohol over in Bucky’s apartment, while he set up everything for the actual game, including a card table with folding chairs.

“Where are the potato chips?” you asked from the kitchen. “They aren’t in the usual spot.” The usual spot was, of course, right on the counter for convenience.

“Check the grocery bags,” he called back.

“Ah.” There were three or four bags of groceries on the counter that he hadn’t unpacked yet. “I can’t believe you’re actually letting us use store-bought spinach dip and salsa.”

Bucky wandered into the kitchen, moving to wash and dry his hands beside you. “I didn’t have time to make anything. Someone made me go outside and play today, remember?”

You grinned at him, then turned back to the bags to set everything out. “They’ll live. Although Wanda and Vis have yet to experience the bliss that is your nacho cheese dip.”

“Some other time, I’m sure.” His hand brushed your shoulders gently as he steadied his weight on you to reach above your head for a bowl.

You were surprised to feel a little shiver at the touch.

What the hell was that?

Maybe you’d spent too much time in the sun, and now you were cold. “The apartment’s sort of chilly, I’ll turn the air down.” Before he could reply, you moved away and back into the living area to the thermostat.

A knock sounded on the door, and you looked over your shoulder at Bucky before throwing it open. Steve and Sam appeared in the doorway, wasting no time to group hug with you.

“Hey, strangers,” you laughed, hugging them back. “Been a while!”

“No shit,” Sam said, pulling away to nod at Bucky. His eyes turned back to you, and he grinned. “I can’t wait to win some of that Stark paycheck away from you tonight, Y/N.”

“You wish, Wilson,” you retorted, chuckling as he headed for the food. Your eyes slid to Steve. “What’s new with you?”

He shook his head, his blue eyes bright despite the dim lighting in Bucky’s apartment. “Same old, Y/N. You know how it goes.”

“Oh, yes,” you began sarcastically. “I know exactly what it feels like to be a New York City police officer and protect millions from danger. Do it every day.”

“Hey, I do that, too!” Sam’s voice was muffled by the massive amount of chips he’d already tried to shove down his throat.

Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson were two of the most built, most honorable men you knew. You met them one random day, about a month after you’d first moved in and gotten to know Bucky.

Steve had offered to carry your heavy groceries upstairs, while Sam offered to open the door for you, not about to be outdone. When you’d reached the landing on the second floor, Bucky was standing there, shaking his head at his friends for what he had called their shameful and blatant attempt at flirting.

They’d both sheepishly grinned at you, but soon after, Bucky told them you were off-limits. Not that you minded…it would have probably been weird to date your neighbor’s friend so soon after meeting them.

Plus, you couldn’t choose between them.

Where would you even start?

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Wilson,” Steve retorted. He gave you one last smile before moving to see what food Sam had left for everyone else.

---

Wanda and Vis arrived shortly after the others, and once the game was in full swing, you found yourself in an unusual and rare position: you were completely owning their asses at nearly every hand.

“When did you get this good at poker?” Wanda asked, making a face at you. “Last time, I got you to go all-in on a pair of Kings and lose everything to me.”

She and Bucky were the only two that called when you raised this last round. You figured she was underestimating your skills at this point…why else would she want to send so many chips your way?

“Bucky’s been teaching me,” you admitted, looking over at your best friend with a smirk. “He told me I couldn’t embarrass him in front of his friends with my terrible calls anymore. By the way, I raise.” You tossed two chips into the pot.

“That is so not true,” Bucky protested, pretending to be offended. “I said I wanted you to get better so that you could start buying the rounds more often when we go out.”

“Whatever, either way, I’ve learned more.” You glanced from Bucky, to your cards, then back to Wanda’s face. You studied her for a moment, since it was her turn. “What’ll it be, Maximoff? Call or fold?”

She eyed you warily. You could tell she was trying to figure out if you were bluffing about not only your cards, but your newfound skill set as well.

Ultimately, she laid her cards down. “I fold.”

You did a little dance in your chair. The pot was close to $300, and you could really use the spare cash.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Doll.”

Your eyes flickered up to Bucky’s, and you set your mouth in a straight line as you attempted to stare him down. Normally, it was totally useless to try to get the best of Bucky when it was you versus him, because he was so good at reading all your tells. He even informed you during one of the poker lessons that you chewed your lip when you were nervous.

That’s what happens when you spend that much time with someone, you supposed.

Bucky was staring right back at you, amusement plain as day on his features. He tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowing slightly.

“What do ya think, Buck?” you asked, grinning at him playfully. “Am I holding the winning hand, or am I playing you for a fool?”

“Oooh,” Steve said, laughing. “Those are fighting words.”

“You two are entertaining as hell,” Sam added, leaning back in his seat. His eyes were darting back and forth between you and Bucky. “I should have brought popcorn.”

“I think she’s got something,” Vis chimed in. “She hasn’t had a bad hand tonight.”

“How do you know?” Wanda asked him incredulously. “Y/N hasn’t had to actually show half the hands tonight. Someone keeps folding!”

You let out an overdone cackle, trying to play it up for your audience. “Time’s a-wasting here, Bucky. Call or fold?”

Bucky leaned forward, still staring at you with steely determination. The corner of his mouth lifted, and he nodded at you. “I’ll take a chance. I think you’re bluffing. I call.” He reached down and tossed two chips into the pot.

“Show ‘em!” Steve said, tapping the table anxiously.

You set your hand down at the same time Bucky did. His hand was pretty good; he showed three aces.

But you had a straight, queen high.

“Read ‘em and weep, suckers!” you shouted, happily leaning over the table to grab your winnings.

Bucky was smiling at you when you looked up at him to brag some more. He didn’t look put off in the least.

You made a face. “You knew I wasn’t bluffing, didn’t you?”

He nodded, still smiling, as he laced his hands together behind his head and leaned back in his chair.

“Yet you still threw more money in. Why?”

“Because they need to see you haven’t just learned to bluff, but that you’re really good now.”

Oh. You couldn’t help but find that answer a little disappointing, but you tried not to let it show on your face.

“Besides, you light up when you win,” he added. “It makes the game more fun.”

“Awww,” Sam said, nudging Steve. “Such a softie.”

“Only for Y/N,” Steve added, standing up. “Well, I’m completely broke now, so thanks for that. We’ll have to lose to you guys again sometime.”

---

Once everyone had left, you stayed to help clean up. When Bucky wasn’t looking, you reached into your pocket and counted out $150 from the last pot, then tried to slip it onto the counter top.

“Put that back in your pocket, right now,” Bucky warned from the living room.

“How the hell did you even see me?” You stared at him in disbelief.

“I’m not an idiot, I know you felt guilty as soon as I told you I called on purpose.” Bucky sighed, then left the mess in the living room to come over to you. His hand gently closed around yours as he shoved the money back in your grasp. “You won it, fair and square.”

“You’re a good best friend,” you said softly. It wasn’t like you really wanted to take the money now that you knew, but there were some bills coming up. He knew you needed it more than he did. “I think I’ll keep you.”

Bucky let out a chuckle, before enveloping you in his arms. “I think I’ll keep you, too. Now, leave this shit here, I can clean up in the morning. You have work again in the morning, don’t forget.”

“How could I possibly forget the joy of getting up early to go to work,” you replied, pulling back. “And don’t you forget that tomorrow is wager day.”

“I know, I know.” Bucky turned away to lean his hands against the counter. “Maybe we should just call off both dates. I don’t know how I feel about this anymore.”

“Why? Are you worried that I’ll like Peter so much that you’ll have to cook for both of us?” you joked. Since the thought crossed your mind earlier, you figured it was a good crack to make in front of the competition.

A little smack-talk never hurt anyone, right?

“Maybe I’ll like Rosie so much, my days of serial dating will be over?” His eyes met yours evenly, and you stared at each other in silent contemplation.

Wasn’t that the point of all this? To see if he could stop going through women faster than clean socks? And for you, to see if you could make it through a whole date, even if it was awful?

The silence dragged on, and you were starting to feel awkward about it. You very rarely felt awkward in front of your best friend, so this was extra weird.

“Well, on that note…goodnight, Bucky. Good luck tomorrow.”

“You, too. Goodnight, Y/N.” He gave you another smile, but this one didn’t quite reach his eyes.

With one last look, you turned and walked to the door, opening it quietly. You moved out in the hall and closed the door behind you, refusing to let yourself look up again.

Once you were safely inside your own apartment, you leaned back against your own door, your stomach in knots.

Why did you suddenly dread tomorrow?

---

Part  4 

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[roughmagicblog-blog]

Let The Air In

by Sydney Gayle Amanuel

Northern California looked like fall but it was August. Their draught was and still is, really bad. I remember thinking, ‘The planet is dying and our solution is to give it a slow death.’ I lived in NY but I was teaching at Berkeley for the summer. My boyfriend, who lived in Boston at the time, was on a tour with his band down the East Coast. We were at almost perfect ends of the United States, Northern Cali and South Florida, when I called him and told him I was pregnant. We'd been dating for almost a year.

We have what most consider a good, solid relationship; we are open and honest in our communication, we like to be around each other, he's seen me poop and vomit, all the basics. We talk about everything from politics to pop culture and like to debate with one another, so we’ve already discussed our stances on women's rights long ago. We agree that a woman has the right to decide what's best for herself, her life, and her body.

It was comforting to know that conversation already happened and there wasn’t some “hills like white elephants” situation in the room that we had to step over, but it was still hard to tell him knowing what came next: my personal choice to have an abortion.

I'm very close with my mom, so I was able to talk to her about my pregnancy and my plan to have an abortion. My best friend and roommate was an activist and grass rooter for planned parenthood and knew more than I did. I definitely did spend my time around like-minded people, but to have my mother, best friend, and my partner support me immediately, no questions asked, was more than relief, more than luck. I can't imagine the emotional upheaval for girls in less ideal situations. I was surrounded by positivity for my decision, something you don't see or hear about often and something that is more common than you think. Statistics say 1 in 3 women will have an abortion in her lifetime. It was only after I had decided to have mine, that women I knew spoke up and shared their experiences with me. As soon as I got back to New York I called my local Planned Parenthood and made an appointment.

As comforting as it was to have support from friends, the week before the abortion I found myself doing what everyone does, googling. How much does it hurt? How much does it cost? Will I feel physically bad after? Is the bleeding like a period? What method will be used? How long does it take? What are the risks?

It was almost like google was typing back, surprise! Feel ashamed you careless idiot! Every story I read, every personal account of an abortion, was a tale of woe and regret, of guilt and shame over the death of a child. And these weren't even sites with a blatant religious slant, these made up the first full page of my google search, presented as fact. The internet is not really your friend, not in our post-fact world, alternative fact world. You would think with the abundance of fact checking capabilities and resources, we could sift, see past misinformation, but it’s not so easy. Especially if you are alone. If, unlike me, you didn’t have a mom or a best friend to turn to and say things out loud, make them real. I wasn't really phased by the stories, I've always been strong in my convictions and I've never sat on the fence about a woman's right to choose, but I was stunned at the amount of forums screaming, "Don't do it."

After hours of clicks and scrolls I found myself deep in Youtube looking at abortion photos week by week up until stillbirths. *Not for the faint of heart* If you don’t like blood, don’t look. But for me, it was helpful and kind of amazing. I felt like I was rediscovering my vagina in a way. I remembered when I learned women can masturbate just like men do and orgasm too—I felt tricked. The woman is taboo, and everyone wants to talk about us, just not truthfully and not with us in the room. I closed my laptop.

The day of my procedure. I’m about to get down to details here, feel free to turn back, I’m not censoring anything so, content warning folks.

My roommate went with me to the clinic—turned out guests couldn’t really go further than the front door, they had a whole separate waiting room on the bottom floor. I sat in the designated patients waiting room, staring at glossy pamphlets, wondering if the girl across from me was also here for an abortion. I looked around trying to nonverbally communicate and tell her, “It's okay, I’m scared too.” I didn't know this at the time, but Planned Parenthood not only provides many services for women’s health, but also they have their own staff dedicated to insurance as well as counselors to talk to. Planned Parenthood didn't take my insurance, so they lead me to their insurance floor where I sat and talked with an agent. She explained that through the Affordable Care Act (Obamacare), I would be covered for my abortion as well as a new birth control method. I asked what the co-pay was or what she guesstimated the bill to be. She told me I was completely covered, I wouldn't owe anything, that's what the ACA is for. It helps people—that's what it does.

After the insurance was settled, I was called to have a quick checkup and ultrasound. Then they sent me to meet with a counselor who looked a lot like a girl I used to do a radio talk show with in college. I didn't know meeting a counselor was mandatory and I felt uncomfortable, afraid she was going to talk me out of getting the abortion or make me feel the shame the internet implied I should feel. When she asked, “What brings you here today?" I think I may have just said "Abortion." I was so confused and anxious. She nodded and we started to discuss birth control. I wanted to explain: I’m not careless or uneducated, I taught sex-ed to middle and high schoolers, my mom supported me, I use condoms, I’m in a healthy relationship, I’m normal. I wanted to be told that an abortion was normal. She eased me through any questions I had or topics I wanted to discuss. I asked if I could see the sonogram they took of me. She told me I was six weeks along and there, in the shaded grey was a barely visible white dot on my black open uterus. A sack of cells. I kind of wanted to keep the picture, but then thought she might think that was weird, and I realized, yeah that is weird, so I didn't ask. We decided on a new form of birth control together. I had been on the pill since I was 15, I had no choice at the time. I had ovarian cysts and had to regulate myself before they got any worse, but didn't like the negative hormonal effects from the pill. I had mood swings, weight gain, acne, and I never remembered to take it which made me sick and reduced its effectiveness. AKA I had an ineffective form of birth control, which is why I got pregnant. I decided to have an IUD which, she told me, could be put in right after the abortion. No one I knew had an IUD, even my Gyno never mentioned it. But its description was like a light at the end of the tunnel I was walking down again, my taboo female body had been left in the dark.

When it comes to an abortion, there are two options: a surgical abortion or a medical abortion. Surgical abortions take place in a hospital or center, while medical abortions are induced by pills you can take at home. If you have the surgical abortion, you have the choice to be put to sleep or stay awake.

I wanted to have the surgical. I wanted to stay awake. I wanted to fully understand the procedure, be present and remember everything. If I chose to be put to sleep, would I remember anything? Or would it feel like those waking dreams, the ones you can’t discern from reality, and leave you only feeling sad when you wake up. Wishing you could go back in and feel it, even if it was bad. I wanted to know, so I could tell my friends, any woman, that her choice is her choice and it's okay.

In my hospital gown, with blue booties on my feet, I sat in a semicircle of chairs. Other girls also had gowns and booties on, we were all the same. Sitting.

I was given a small white paper cup containing two tylenol pills.

I laid on a white table in a small white room. There were three women in the room, a doctor, her assistant and myself. The doctor explained the numbing solution she was going to put on my cervix can make a person’s lips numb too, like novocaine. I laid back, she numbed me, and kept talking, explaining the next steps. The numbing stuff actually made me lose hearing, quite quickly. The doctor had been talking to me in a calm, slow voice and suddenly a ringing started that got higher in pitch until my ears felt like they were underwater while also on an airplane. I tried to talk, to tell her I couldn’t hear, but I realized I couldn't form the words. So I just sort of grunted to let her know I was okay. She turned on a large machine next to the table I laid on. It looked like a vacuum—it basically was. The machine made a loud sucking and groaning noise which I could hear clearly. This was when the pain started. Special absorbent rods were then used to dilate my cervix. I assumed it was similar to induced labor—your insides sort of start pushing and pumping and it is very, very painful. Women: imagine your worst period cramps x20 and also giving birth all at once. The machine pulled and sucked up the blood as it was being pushed out and my body worked in overdrive to assist the process. This lasted for maybe 10 minutes, but it felt like 30. The whole time I held my hands clasped together, pressed hard into my chest and stared at a florescent light above me. Its plastic covering was painted to look like clouds. I barely remember her putting in the IUD. When the doctor turned the machine off, everything happened fast. They sat me up, placed a pad between my legs and scooted me into a wheelchair. I involuntarily started crying, but I wasn't sad. I think I was happy, relieved.

I was wheeled to a recovery room and placed in a big comfy chair, pad between my legs and hot compress on my uterus to help with the pain. I was exhausted, but also very concerned with accidentally bleeding through my gown and kept drunkenly patting myself to make sure I wasn't. The doctor put a hand on my shoulder and said “We have to do an ultrasound to make sure we got everything.”

In another room, a nurse pressed the plastic ultrasound probe through the cold gel onto my skin. My uterus felt like a used punching bag. They missed part of the sac and I was told they had to go back in to remove the rest, it would be dangerous to leave it. Once again, I was back in the small white room looking up at the fake painted clouds. Another nurse was in the room this time using the ultrasound while the doctor performed my second abortion so that she could clearly see the remaining sac. When she asked how I was doing, I almost laughed. The nurse smiled and held my hand. She told me I was so brave to do this and that I was doing well.

In less than an hour, I technically had two abortions. They also had to insert, remove, and reinsert my IUD. I was told what happened was very rare, and they usually get everything with no complications. I was also told the blood and sac were dark, meaning the blood was old and had been sitting. This could indicate different things, but most likely I would have had a miscarriage if I didn't have an abortion. After my second abortion I was back in the recovery room again, soon changing back into my clothes and eating crackers they tell you to eat before you snip your bracelet off and sign yourself out.

My roommate and I took the subway back to our apartment and within three days I felt fine with no pain or IUD side effects. A month later I got a letter from Medicaid saying I owed nothing but if I wanted to re-up on my insurance I could join and start a plan. A year later I was working in California again, feeling lucky to be alive. I called my partner and we talked about how different our worlds would have been without my abortion, without my right to choose. Now, two years later, the leader of our nation believes in punishing women who undergo this procedure.

I felt compelled to write about my experience, mostly for girls like me. I wanted to tell those girls, those women, that I did it and I am fine. I did it and I am normal and so are you. I am not ashamed, or embarrassed, nor am I guilty or regretful. I'm not saying my decision was easy, but I knew immediately what my decision would be. When I think to myself that 100 or even 50 years ago this was not an option for women, I feel sick. But the truth is, we haven’t really come that far. Look at us, at our country as a whole at the March for Life, the grab em by the pussys, the repetative rape culture. I can only understand these issues through my experiences being a woman in this country. And I fear for marginalized lives, those not as privileged as I am. I fear for those who are people of color, non-white passing, non-cisgendered, for anyone in the LGBTQ community, for anyone of Islamic faith, and for any woman whose rights will be taken away or compromised.

I had my abortion legally, safely, through Planned Parenthood. I now have an effective form of birth control for the next eight years. Both my abortion and birth control were covered under a health program created to give affordable healthcare to Americans that need it. Planned Parenthood offers healthcare and services to both men and women. They provide STI and STD testing as well as HIV testing. Planned Parenthood helped me—they are there to help. To remove funding for services and centers, to create laws that ban certain procedures, and to shut down care centers nationwide is to tell all women in this country that their reproductive rights and health care is not important. It tells women that you do not support them and will actively regress and erase years of an uphill battle that they alone have climbed. What is most hurtful, most frustrating, is that the people who need to read this message will not take the time to. But to those who have, thank you. I hope we can change things, I hope we don't have to end up always fixing them, again, forever.

Sydney Gayle Amanuel is a Salem-based artist. Check out her amazing work here: http://sydneygayle.com

[wednesdaybeloved]

my testimony: on the strange subject of return (mature subjects discussed in this post)

It’s taken five months to admit to myself that I’ve gotten into bed with a stranger.

My stranger often changes names. Sometimes, my stranger occupies my phone-book with monikers like “Tinder Ben” and “Tinder Aaron” and “DO NOT PICK UP Brian”. 

My stranger often changes identities. Sometimes, my stranger stares back at me in the mirror with the faint familiarity of who I used to be. How I used to be. How I used to live. 

And so I oscillate between strange things, welcoming strange new men into my bed with every ‘swipe right’ and giving strange new habits the key to my dwelling-place.  

It’s all been figurative, mostly. I haven’t really broken my purity vows, mostly. 

In the beginning of the semester, my first stranger slipped in to my suite unannounced. He introduced himself as ‘Lost Opportunity’ and he smelled of stale cigarettes, overly-fermented Kombucha, and, well, sex. 

Shocked, I backed away from the tall, musty stranger, unsure of where he had come from or why he had found his way to my bedroom. 

He cleared his throat, as if ready to recite a passage from any human history as old as time itself. 

“What about the what if?”, he started. 

I didn’t respond. 

Mr. Opportunity took my stunned silence as an invocation, a space to be filled. “What if? What if this whole abstinence thing is arbitrary?” 

“What if God is doing this to make you suffer? What if God does everything to make you suffer? Why would God make something good like sex and shame you for wanting it?” 

I began to protest, “Well, I know that God has a time and a pla-”

But he was louder. “Aren’t you mad that so soon after you began your whirlwind romance with ‘Tinder Ben’, you had to give it all up because of your purity vows? Aren’t you infuriated that it seems like God doesn’t know what it’s like to be a black woman who has longed for touch all of her life?” 

He was getting personal now, and I didn’t like it. I wasn’t sure if I didn’t like it because Lost Opportunity, this stranger, knew me so well or because it felt so true. 

“Aren’t you upset that this one thing- if you actually did end up going over to Ben’s apartment for the weekend- would drive a mountain of undeserved guilt between you and God who created you to want to have sex in the first place?” 

I knew that he knew that I was growing weak. With every new argument, I felt myself break-down as Mr. Opportunity chewed up every bit fortified bit of why I had been saving sex for marriage and spit it out like old tobacco. 

“Besides, people in the Bible got married at 14 and 15, and you don’t plan on getting married until after graduate school. Unfair, much?” 

“Besides, King Solomon of the Bible had 300 concubines and 700 priestesses and you just want to get to know your body with this one guy. So holy men are allowed to have unabashed sex and still be considered the wisest guys on earth, but you’ll just be another Christian girl who failed?” 

“Besides, the idea of soul-ties is more than a little slut-shamey and you know your worth or value isn’t defined by how many people you’ve been with. Are you saying that all of the truths you’ve learned from feminism and womanism and loving yourself are all fake?” 

“Besides, you’ve read too many thinkpiece articles about Christian women ending up petrified or in fright on their wedding nights, scarred because they were never taught how to disassociate “bad” from “sex”, scarred because they listened to an arbitrary archaic God instead of heeding to natural instinct… 

Do you really want to be that woman?” 

You might be surprised to know that Mr. Opportunity didn’t win that weekend. I’m quite sure I would have let the fear of Lost Opportunity convince me to go to Tinder Ben’s apartment had it not been for the 3 am texts and the necessary advice and fervent prayers of my amazing friend @blackstarising. But the battle was not yet won. 

You see, Mr. Opportunity ended up making himself at home with me for the next five months. And he was a terrible roommate. 

He never paid rent on time, he always left toothpaste all over the sink, and he constantly invaded my thoughts, ransacking what I held to be true and replacing my solid ground with sand. 

He convinced me that I was tired of the Christian walk. Tired of blogging in Christian ministry, tired of turning the other cheek, tired of speaking in Christianese and tying up my blog with grace and making sure that I read my bible and prayed every day, tired of putting in so much effort into my Christian walk when my life seemed to have a lot more stress and a lot more worry than my friends not on that same path. 

He made me upset with so many of the people in Christian culture- that we could approach injustices like Orlando with quick-and-dismissive platitudes like “maybe God forged a plan through this tragedy”, with weird and unwelcome jabs like “perhaps this will make these people turn from their sins!” That the white evangelical electorate could vote strongly in support of a bully that only pandered to Christian sensibilities with fools’ gold and “Two Corinthians” but with not much real love. (Yes, I’m generalizing, but yes, I think it’s true). 

He made me remember all of the times throughout the past year that God had felt absent. I tried to protest that my God had also felt loving but I knew that Opportunity would make me count the times I felt absence and the times I felt love and I honestly wasn’t sure which would emerge with a higher count. 

Of course, the doubts didn’t stop there. Of course, there came the sleepless nights. Of course, I grew hungrier and hungrier for answers and the Christian ones just couldn’t satisfy me anymore. The hundreds of blog posts I read telling me to trust God just seemed human-less. The multiple conversations I had with Christian friends who told me to not give up on hope just seemed too good to be true. 

God’s plan just wasn’t enough for me anymore.

Biblical knowledge wasn’t enough anymore. One of my favorite parts of the bible, James 1, now just seemed like a sorry manipulation technique to act as if the bad things of the world were not actually the fault of an unaccountable God, and even if they were, they were designed to make us stronger instead. Job no longer seemed like a story of God’s triumph and instead, seemed like a terrible lesson wrought upon a man who didn’t deserve such misery. 

Everything seemed like an excuse for God and nothing seemed like much of a reason to trust God and so Mr. Opportunity began to get comfortable with me- declined going to campus bible studies on my behalf, started to block calls from people at church asking if I needed a ride. 

Lost Opportunity said it wasn’t so bad to masturbate- after all, you gave up probably amazing sex with an amazing guy for a God who doesn’t speak very often. And so I listened. 

Lost Opportunity said it wasn’t so bad to go out twice a weekend- after all, you didn’t drink much your freshman and sophomore years of college and everyone is mostly legal now and alcohol isn’t so bad and FOMO hurts a lot more than a hangover does. And so I listened. 

Lost Opportunity said that Christianity is the old friend that you’ve outgrown. It’s time to move it or lose it- pick your side, buddy. Move forward and move on. 

And I wish I could say that I didn’t but honestly, I listened. 

So yes, I let God go. He collected dust in my attic and I only brushed Him off whenever I wanted a fond memory of youth group or was reminded of a gospel melody. I only remembered God when I used His name in vain and only thought about Him when I wanted to scoff at how controlled I had been by Christianity. I dusted off God when people would ask how I was doing- if my doubts had been calmed since the last time we had spoken- and as soon as they turned around, I’d throw it back underneath the old rug, hoping that soon God could be misplaced for forever. 

I was so sure that I could avoid losing out on this world if I just lost God instead. I was so certain that I couldn’t ever remember God to be the same God again- that I couldn’t ever trust His doctrine and his decrees and His love for me when the stranger in my bed had convinced me otherwise. 

I lost God because I was tired of having to hold Him so close.

I’m starting this blog post now, two days after Thanksgiving, in the dead of night. 

I had let a stranger in at the beginning of the semester- one small stranger, one small hesitation about ending things with Ben, one small doubt about why pre-marital sex had to be so bad- that completely renovated my whole house and locked me and my God outside of it. 

*imagine a caption on Spongebob that reads “SIX WEEKS LATER…”*

It’s now the 11th of January, 2017, and I’m finally finishing this blog post. I intended on finishing and posting it when I went back to school after Thanksgiving break but got distracted by school and not trusting God all over again, and, well, porn. 

I’m nervous that I’m so often flung between doubt and trust. That often, it takes a really good conversation with a friend to get me back on my Christian track again. That often, it takes enough brooding and negative thinking to believe that God is an absentee Father who doesn’t give a damn about people who are suffering and that my will makes more sense than His. That like this blog post, a post that I intended to tell of a whirlwind return back to Christ (a blog post that I started right after Thanksgiving, full of food and love and family and friends) was too good to be true. That where I am now, finishing the rest of this on the 11th of January, bitter and kinda needing to pee, is where I actually am with my faith. 

I’m nervous that I’ve enjoyed living in doubt for so long- that I’ve enjoyed not feeling bad about partying, about doing more than kissing with guys, about skipping church for the entire semester. I’m nervous that I’ve enjoyed swearing when I want to and not turning the other cheek when I’ve felt wronged. 

I’m nervous about where I stand. I’m nervous that my questions are too much and my doubt is far too deep. I’m nervous that I’ve come too far; that I’ve crossed the chasm, that I’ve fallen and I can’t get up (ahem…). 

Most of all, I’m nervous that if I do come back to the church, my relationship with God will never be the same. That I’ll always be wary of His promises. That I’ll always be skeptical of the people next to me in the pews- that we’re not deluding ourselves, that we haven’t devoted our lives to a big nothing of invisible air, that we haven’t tricked ourselves into thinking that we’re okay with the prospect of billions of people burning forever in hell if they haven’t accepted the grace of God because we “all deserve to burn forever and ever, and it’s only by His grace…” 

I wish I had an amazing comeback story. I wish that just one of the times, just one of the moments, just one of the prayers that brought me close to His arms again would be enough to snap me out of this dark hole of doubt. 

Unfortunately, I don’t think return will be as easy as that. I’m not sure wanting to return will be as easy as that. 

I talked to a good Christian friend tonight- a friend who is President of my ministry team at school. I’ve been sharing a lot of my doubts and questions and skepticism about faith with her and tonight she quoted the words of a pastor of a church near our school in St. Louis. 

The pastor said something along the lines of:

“Christ came not to make bad people good; He came to make dead people alive.” 

I liked that quote. I still have doubt. I still have worry and fear. I still am rocked with the anxiety of living a lie, of living like I don’t want to have sex with the guy who wants to hook up with me, of living like I don’t want to live by my own terms and not wait on God’s timing when in fact, I really truly do. 

But I liked that quote. 

And as I was searching for the parable of the prodigal son tonight to somehow tie into this blog post, I found this: 

“But it was appropriate to celebrate and be glad, for this, your brother, was dead, and is alive again. He was lost, and is found.”

Your brother was dead and is alive again. And because I like that quote so much, and because I’m vain as hell, I’ve decided to replace "your brother” with my own name. 

Akua was dead and could be alive again. Akua was dead and could allow God to make her alive again. And in the words of the aforementioned pastor, Christ came not to make Akua good; He came to make dead Akua’s alive. 

I don’t have a good way to end this blog post, and I don’t think this is as polished as it could be. I guess this post is the beginning of a testimony- the beginning of my return, if I so allow for it. The first step towards home; my first heartbeat after a semester in the tomb. 

Although I don’t know and although my doubt is no less strong and although I’m no less brooding and no less inquisitive, at least I know that I can be given new life. That I can allow myself to accept new life as it’s been given. 

It’s an opportunity. Not the Mr. Opportunity that I’ve flirted with for the past five months, but an opportunity nonetheless. 

On the subject of return: I’m confused. I’m afraid, and I’m not sure if I can turn back or if I’m allowed to entertain these thoughts and still search for God. 

But I think this man named Jesus is knocking. And to be honest, I want to want enough courage to open the door. 

I ask that today, my God may grant me that want to open the door. 

- Akua 

(p.s., I would appreciate your prayers and well-wishes or good thoughts at this time. 

pps. I’m in the middle of a book by Lauren Winner and it’s called “Still: Notes on a Midfaith Crisis” and it’s amazing. I would highly recommend it to those struggling with faith or with life or with themselves. 

ppps. thank you guys for your ears). 

[sarahburness]

How Restrictive Diets Mess with Our Brains and Lead to Bingeing

“Your body is precious. It is your vehicle for awakening. Treat it with care.” ~Buddha

When I went on my first diet in my teens (low-carb, it was back in the Atkins days), I wasn’t even overweight. I weighed less than 120 pounds, but my jeans had started to get a little tight, so I thought I needed to lose five pounds or so. At the time, I didn’t have a bad relationship with food; I just ate like a typical teenager—not the best choices.

About two hours in, I remember starting to obsess over the things I couldn’t eat and being desperate to be skinny ASAP so I could eat them again.

By mid day, I “failed.”

I caved and ate…. *gasp, shock, horror*… carbs.

And something weird happened. Instantly, I felt like I was bad.

It’s not just that I thought I had made a bad choice.

I thought, “You idiot, you can’t do anything right. Look at you, one meal in and you screwed up already. You may as well just eat whatever you want the rest of the day and start again tomorrow.”

I think I gained about five pounds from that attempt.

And I continued slowly gaining more and more weight every year after that—and feeling guiltier and guiltier every time I ate something “bad.”

Atkins low-carb miracle cure had failed me horribly and began a decades-long battle with food and my weight.

See, it wasn’t that I thought my choice was bad and then I just made a better choice next time; it was that I felt like I, as a person, was bad.

And what happens when we’re bad?

We get punished.

I didn’t realize until many years later, but those degrading thoughts and overeating the rest of the day were, in part, my way of punishing myself for being bad and eating the bad things.

The harder I tried to control what was going in, the worse it got and the more out of control I felt.

In my thirties I hit bottom, as they say, as a result of trying to follow a “clean eating meal plan.”

Four days into my first attempt to “eat clean” and strictly adhere to what someone else told me I should eat, I had my first-ever binge.

Prior to that, I had some minor food issues. I ate kind of crummy, had slowly been gaining weight, and felt guilty when I ate carbs (thanks, Atkins).

But a few days into “clean eating,” I was in the middle of a full-blown eating disorder.

The clean eating miracle craze may have made me look and feel amazing, but emotionally, it failed me horribly and began my years-long battle to recover from bulimia and binge eating.

But I thought it was just me. I was such a screw up, why couldn’t I just eat like a normal person?

I saw how much better I looked and felt when I was managing to “be good” and “eat clean,” but within a few days or weeks of “being good,” no matter how great I felt from eating that way, I always caved and ended up bingeing again.

And every time, I thought it was me. I told myself I was broken and weak and pathetic.

Even later, when I started training other people, my message was “If it’s not on your plan, it doesn’t go in your mouth” and “You can’t expect to get the body you want by eating the things that gave you the body you have.”

I wanted clients to feel amazing and get the best results possible, so I gave them what I knew would accomplish those two things.

But, at the time, I didn’t know that it was actually those messages and rules that had created all my own issues with food, and I most definitely didn’t know they would have that affect on anyone else.

I thought everyone else was “normal.” I was just broken and weak and stupid—that’s why I struggled so hard to just “be good” and “stop screwing up.”  Normal people would see how much better they felt when they ate that way, and they’d automatically change and live happily ever after.

Ha. No.

The more people I trained, the more I became acutely aware that food is the thing most people struggle with the most, and I started recognizing the exact same thoughts and behaviors I’d experienced, in the majority of my clients.

And almost every single one of them also had a looong history of failed diets.

Hmmm. Maybe it wasn’t just me.

Not everyone goes to the extreme of bulimia, but the more I spoke with other people about their struggles with food and shared my own with them, the more I realized how shockingly pervasive disordered eating and eating disorders have become.

Binge eating is an eating disorder—one that more people struggle with than I ever imagined. Though, most people are horrified to admit it, and many may not even be willing to admit to themselves that they do.

I get that because it’s associated with lack of self-control and gluttony, and there’s a great deal of shame related to both of those things. But it actually has little to do with either, and you can’t change anything until you admit you’re struggling.

And disordered eating in general is even more pervasive.

Feeling guilt after eating is not normal. That’s disordered eating.

Restricting entire food groups is not normal. That’s disordered eating.

Severely restricting food in general in not normal. That’s disordered eating.

Beating yourself up for eating something “bad” is not normal. That’s disordered eating.

Starting and stopping a new diet every few weeks or months is not normal. That’s disordered eating.

Diet culture has us so screwed up that we spend most of our lives doing these things without ever realizing they’re not normal. And they’re negatively affecting our whole lives.

As I was working on my own recovery, I dove into hundreds of hours of research into dieting, habits, motivation, and disordered eating—anything I could get my hands on to help not only myself but my clients better stick to their plans.

It’s so easy, I used to think; there must be some trick to make us just eat what we’re supposed to eat!

But I learned the exact opposite.

I learned that trying to “stick to the plan” was actually the problem.

The solution wasn’t in finding some magic trick to help people follow their meal plans; the solution lied in not telling people what to eat in the first place.

There are many reasons behind why we eat what we eat, when we eat, and even the quantities we choose to eat; it just doesn’t work to tell someone to stop everything they know and just eat this much of this at this time of day, because at some later date it’ll make them skinny and happy.

Our brains don’t work that way.

Our brains actually work exactly the opposite.

As soon as we place restrictions on what we’re allowed or not allowed to eat, our brains start creating compulsions and obsessive thoughts that drive us to “cave.”

Have you ever noticed that as soon as you “can’t” have something, you automatically want it even more?

That’s a survival instinct that’s literally been hard-wired into our brains since the beginning of time.

In November 1944, post-WW II, physiologist Ancel Keys, PhD and psychologist Josef Brozek PhD began a nearly yearlong experiment on the psychological and physiological effects of starvation on thirty-six mentally and physically healthy young men.

The men were expected to lose one-quarter of their body weight. They spent the first three months eating a normal diet of 3,200 calories a day followed by six months of semi-starvation at approximately 1,600 calories a day (though 1,600 calories isn’t even all that low). The semi-starvation period was followed by three months of rehabilitation (2,000-3,200 calories a day) and finally an eight-week period of unrestricted rehabilitation, during which time there was no limitations on caloric intake.

Researchers closely monitored the physiological and psychological changes brought on by calorie restriction.

During the most restricted phase the changes were dramatic. Physically, the men became gaunt in appearance, and there were significant decreases in their strength, stamina, body temperature, heart rate, and even sex drive.

Psychologically, the effects were even more dramatic and mirror those almost anyone with any history of dieting can relate to.

They became obsessed with food. Any chance they had to get access to more food resulted in the men binge eating thousands of calories in a sitting.

Before the restriction period, the men were a lively bunch, discussing politics, current events, and more. During the restriction period, this quickly changed. They dreamt, read, fantasized, and talked about food all the time.

They became withdrawn, irritable, fatigued, and apathic. Depression, anxiety, and obsessive thinking (especially about food) were also observed.

For some men, the study proved too difficult—they were excluded as a result of breaking the diet or not meeting their weight loss goals.

We don’t struggle to follow diets and food rules because we lack willpower. It’s literally the way our brains are wired.

Why? Because from an evolutionary standpoint, we’re not designed to restrict food. Coded into our DNA is the overwhelming urge to survive, so when food (either over-all calories or food groups) is restricted, our brains begin to create urgency, compulsions, and strong desires that force us to fill its needs—and often, even more than its needs (binges).

We cave because our brains are hardwired to. Then the act of caving actually gets wired into our brains as a habit that we continue to repeat on autopilot every time we restrict food or food groups.

And it triggers the punish mode that I spoke of earlier, which only compounds the problem and slowly degrades our self-worth.

So every year millions of people are spending tens of billions of dollars on diets that are making the majority of us heavier, depressed, anxious, food-obsessed binge eaters, and destroying our self-worth.

Now I know all that sounds pretty bleak, but there is a way out. I know because I’ve found it.

It sounds like the opposite of what we should do, but it saved my life.

I gave myself permission to eat whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, and stopped trying to restrict. The scarier that sounds, the more you need to do it.

As soon as nothing is off limits, we can begin to slowly move away from the scarcity mindset and break the habits and obsessions created by dieting.

When we give ourselves unconditional permission to eat whatever we want, without guilt or judgment, we give ourselves the space to get mindful about our choices.

We give ourselves the opportunity to explore why we’re making the choices we’re making and the power to freely make different ones because we begin to value ourselves again.

When we remove the guilt and judgment, start to value ourselves again, and work on being mindful, we can begin to notice how the foods we’re eating make us feel and make choices from a place of love and kindness rather than fear, guilt, and punishment.

It sounds too simple to work, but it saved my life.

Rather than telling people what they should and shouldn’t eat, or trying to listen to someone who’s telling us what we should or shouldn’t eat, we have to build a connection with our bodies.

We have to learn to listen to them, to learn to distinguish the difference between physical hunger and emotional hunger. To stop eating when we’re not physically hungry, and to start feeling emotions instead of feeding them.

We have to break the habits that drive autopilot eating. We have to be mindful, trust the wisdom of our own bodies, and make choices based on how they make our bodies feel rather than what some diet tells us is the answer to happiness and being skinny.

About Roni Davis

Roni Davis is certified mindfulness-based, cognitive behavioral practitioner and creator of Cognitive Eating, a revolutionary new approach for healing weight & food issues using the power of, and science behind, cognitive behavioral strategies, mindfulness, acceptance and self-compassion. You can join her mission to rid the world of diets at RoniDavis.com or find her free workshop: ronidavis.com/free-training.

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The post How Restrictive Diets Mess with Our Brains and Lead to Bingeing appeared first on Tiny Buddha.

from Tiny Buddha https://tinybuddha.com/blog/how-restrictive-diets-mess-with-our-brains-and-lead-to-bingeing/

[tumblunni]

also wtf who designed rune factory 4 this way THIS IS MY ONLY COMPLAINT IN AN AMAZING GAME why are all the romance routes entirely random?? even after youve reached the relationship milestones its COMPLETELY RANDOM whether the event will start every day same for every friendship event and town event and even some plot events you just have to sit there at your bed constantly skipping days for multiple years til the random number god gives you the marriage scene you did EVERYTHING to earn this marriage scene and you have nothing left to do but wait and youll never see any new events with that character until it happens, and you have a very limited amount of dates to go on while youre waiting, and they all do NOTHING except raise the relationship bar over maximum which does nothing. doesnt even increase the chance of the random event?? why even LET me increase it over maximum if it does nothing? thats just tricking me into thinking i havent unlocked the marriage event yet! when I HAVE and i just need to WAIT A BAZILLION YEARS OF RANDOM

anyway i finally got Leon’s random marriage quest and it was Awesome and So Many Tears and now im even more conflicted on who to marry gahhhhh its such a shame you cant resolve everyone’s plot unless you date them, i feel so bad dating all these people when im not able to marry them all, just cos i wanna fix their lives and make them happy but then theyre gon be sad that we didnt get married aaaa

and Leon is especially saddddd

now cos his whole plot is that he had a depressing scenario with a friend as a kid. She loved him but he saw her as just a little sister, and he jokingly promised to marry her once when they were too young to understand. And he didnt know she took it seriously until after he DIED and reincarnated as a fox monster person centuries later too late to do anything about it. And he’s crushed full of guilt that he somehow led her on, and he was never able to apologise, and he’s scared she spent her whole life waiting for him to come back. and then you get this very cool series of sidequests thatre a realistic look at translating languages, and its really motivational how leon is able to help bring knowledge of a dead language back to life and preserve the ancient culture that people thought was lost BUT THEN ENDLESS FUCKIN TRAGEDY kiel accidentally finds an old diary of leon’s friend (WHAT ARE THE ODDS) and he has frickin detailed anxiety attacks unable to even hold the damn paper cos he’s shaking so much and you go on a big treasure hunt to find all the pages and he’s just CRYING SO MUCH mr playboy man! mr flirty asshole! mr stoic! he’s fuckin crying and he cant hold a book without your help and aaaa and his whole story is about how he isnt really the negative stereotypes of a flirty character, he really REALLY values love and he feels depressed he cant love everyone who loves him, so he tries to fake it. And he tries to push people away whenever it seems genuine, but also like... entertain them enough that they dont feel he doesnt love them, i guess? and no matter how promiscuous a person is, they still cant love EVERYONE, you cant just force a relationship on them and say they must be asking for it cos they date other people and enjoy sex. its so depressing that he considers his biggest flaw that he wasnt able to force himself to love someone he didnt, especially when he did care about her, just as a best friend instead! if theyd just talked about it, it would have saved all this heartache for both of them! so then we start piecing together this book and it looks like his worst fears are confirmed, she spent her whole life waiting for him and hating him and its really fucking EXPLODINGLY SAD and then the quest is a bit confusing so i spent several days stuck on this point not knowing who to talk to next, going through random dungeons in case that somehow helped. turned out i did find the right spot but the quest just doesnt progress until you talk to the right person first GAH! stuck for five days on crying leon scene!! NOOOOOO but I finally got past it and CLIMACTIC HAPPY END or bittersweet end more like we find out we mistranslated one bit which was actually PAGE NUMBERS, and we were missing a page all along! and then the final page reveals that she actually moved on and found a new love and had a happy family and grew old together, and her only frustration with leon was imagining that he couldnt find the same thing, worrying that she’d betrayed him. So this wasnt a diary, it was actually a letter she wrote for him to find, having confidence he’d wake up someday and have another chance at happiness! She just wanted him to know that she kept his memory alive and she’s sorry and she was happy and AAAAAAUUUGH im tearing up again the bit that really got me was that we find out that leon’s favourite romance novel was actually written by her. It was so popular it survived into the modern day as a literature classic, and it convinces him that she really was happy with her new boyfriend if she could write something as beautiful as this. And he wants to embody the spirit of the book with you, and keep his new promise to her to have a happy family of his own :) ... AGHHHHHHHHAAAAAHHHHH why cant i marry everyone why do so many of them have plots where it seems like they wont be happy unless i love them... even now i dont really think the leon pairing is my favourite, i wish i could have had this plot as a friendship route! i think it would have resonated just as much since the whole backstory is about him being friends with someone who had unrequited love for him. i wanna be leon’s bestie and ultimate wingman! I like him a lot but I dont really think i wanna marry him! IM SO SORRY LEON AAAA he’s such a soulful beefcake dammit I’m sure he’d find a bazillion better lovers! I’m sure a lot of players did marry him! WHY DO I FEEL SO GUILTY AAAAA its not fair, aaaa arthur was the first one i dated and i also really care about him but in his case his way of acting in the romance isnt very different to when youre just friends so i dont think i wanna commit to that relationship maybe? it might change when i see his final random event but i dont get much ‘he’ll be happy with you’ vibes, its just strengthening their powerful brotp that they had from the start of the game. he feels like someone protagonist would indeed date, but theyd part again on friendly terms after it didnt work out, and then be amicable exes who still care a lot about each other. and I just feel like I wanna marry dylas even though he’s had the least tragic events so far. gahhhh! he just seems SO HAPPY dating you, and has loads of character development since it started, unlike the other two ive seen the dates for. he feels like he’s actually getting something out of this that he wouldnt if we were just friends? its so hard trying to weigh up the pros and cons of romance options in games when im inacapble of actually being attracted to anyone, its just ‘i care about you all and i wanna give you the best possible ending’. I haaaaate when games have it so that romance is always the best possible ending for every single character and they all suffer forever if you dont pick them :P and I havent even seen the romances with the other three dudes yet! GAHHHHH!! Theyre all the ones I wasnt immediately interested in dating, but that opinion could totally change, i could end up with a six way tie :P ... ALSO RANDOM BUT is anyone else really uncomfortable with the queerbaiting in this game? there is a LOt, a LOT of ‘lol maybe gay’, sometimes so clear that it seems the game is outright canonically stating this character is gay or bisexual yet you have no option to marry them unless youre the opposite sex. It gets REALLY uncomfortable with Dylas, he just,,, does not express any interest in women at all unless the player pursues him. And his mutual crush with doug is CONSTANTLY REFERENCED, and called out very clearly for what it is. IOf the game didnt keep pointing it out i would have been able to shrug it off as just accidental chemistry from a failed rivalry plotline or something, but we have EVERYONE saying ‘oh a lover’s quarrel’ and ‘be honest about your feelings’ and ‘i bet you wanna see doug in a swimsuit’ and ‘gee i really wanna see doug in a swimsuit’ and IT CANT BE ANY MORE CANON THAN THIS. And.. like.. Dylas even says he DOESNT wanna see women in swimsuits, he’s just here at the beach cos Doug might come along. He does not express any interest in women at all except the protagonist! It makes me feel SO uncomfortable! it feels like he’s actually gay, when with most other characters they seem bisexual?? I dunno how to explain it, thats just how it comes off to me. Why is there no option for him and doug to date, why cant i date him as the male protagonist?? His romance route is so totally gender neutral, i did the postgame protagonist swap cheat and it just feels more in-character for him this way. if im gonna steal him away from Doug i dont want it to be a weird gay conversion therapy type thing, it just feels so WEIRD. The one and ONLY stated crush he has on another character, and its gay, and theres NO OPTION FOR IT TO HAPPEN and then he suddenly becomes 100% straight and never talks about doug again if a fem protagonist dates him. SO WEEEEEIRD... I’m just gonna sit here on the non-canon bonus feature dylas x male protag train and never leave. If you cant have doug you shall have the transitioned me! Its funny cos he’s like the only batchelor i very vehemently cannot ship with fem protag, yet do with male protag :P but GAHHH leon deserves a family and i could give him a child and aaaaa SO HARD TO CHOOSE also i am sad that the postgame cheatmode lets you switch to any character but if its not one of the two protags its only your overworld model and not your face portraits. Its weird because every batchelor and batchelorette has the exact same full set of emotions and costumes, so why cant i access that?? its also a shame cos it means i cant roleplay my doug and dylas marriage properly :P CMON MAN WHY U EVEN TELL ME THEY IN LOVE IF THEY CANT BE IN LOVE :P they have the best portmanteau ship name too! douglas! :P