#my mother is Weird and sometimes chose to be a christian

[flowercrownmickey]

every reference and easter egg in how to disappear (or at least all the ones i can remember)

how many did you catch? Massive SPOILERS under the cut!!

baba yaga (Barbara Yaga, her ownership of the house ian rents is one of the few things carried over from the original wilde life au concept that i was going for in the first chapter)

i wanted to name the town in Oklahoma something weird and a little creepy but not use a real place. the thing is Oklahoma already pretty much has towns named with every weird creepy combo of words possible (seriously, go skim a map sometime, you will see some wild stuff). In the end i decided on Owl Creek because it's a real name but it's actually not one place, but the name of multiple waterways all across the state. 👍

the rainbow fuck you socks are real socks (i used a photo of them as the cover for the how to disappear playlist) that @michellemisfit sent to me as a gift, i couldnt resist using them in the story.

Glenchad's technique for haunting/traumatizing Ian is inspired by the x-files episode How the Ghosts Stole Christmas

Glen himself is based on and named after Glen McReynolds from one of my favorite movies: Everybody Wants Some!! (the little inside joke i have with myself is that Glenchad hates Ian because Glen in the movie hates pitchers, and in one of my favorite fics, Love is a Ballfield, Ian is a pitcher.) (yeah it gets pretty convoluted inside my brain lol)

the infomercial ian watches on one of the local tv stations is a real product that i found by googling for the weirdest products sold through infomercials

the channel LOCAL 58 is of course an easter egg for the analog horror series by Kris Straub (of whom im a big fan)

the title of the fic itself is also a reference to another work by Kris Straub, a book of short psychological horror stories called Ichor Falls: A Visitor's Guide

mickeyism nickname "livestrong" is of course a reference to famous cyclist Lance Armstrong

Norma's is named for Norma Jennings, a character from Twin Peaks who owns and operates the Double R Diner, a major location used in the TV series.

I was a huge Newsies fan and had a crush on half the cast of the movie as a tween. Christian Bale wasn't my personal favorite but I figured he'd be the most recognizable reference for the general audience!

mickeyism nickname "Cowboy" was the newsie-name that Christian Bale's character went by in Newsies.

Ian and his Taco Bell drop off: I searched food delivery reddits for common horror stories from delivery drivers and turns out the prank of telling a driver there is a cash tip tucked somewhere on the front porch and then watching/filming (and possibly even posting to the internet) the person searching fruitlessly for the tip is disgustingly not uncommon.

the "old-as-fuck British sitcom set in a department store" is Are Your Being Served? - a show i simply remember being on all the time on the local PBS stations back when we still had TV and would just have to watch whatever was on!

Mickey refers to Oklahoma City as "The City" which is the way many locals refer to it.

I had to include Ian getting an order for Subway as a little homage to one of my absolute favorite fics of all time: Intro to Quantum Dating by @spoonfulstar

Ian is flying down the road on his bicycle bearing a single meatlover's footlong. - this is a joke about Ian's giant penis. But he is also actually delivering a meatlover's footlong.

"John D" - is short for John Doe because of course they wouldnt register for the grubhub app with a real name.

the werewolf pack was a little bit inspired by the Hale family from Teen Wolf, the werewolves from grizzly hills in world of warcraft, and the aesthetic of the broke-ass snobby british aristocrats from The Gentlemen TV series.

"Mother Selene" referenced by the pack leader just before the werewolves transform, refers to Selene the Greek goddess of the moon. There's heaps of history from all over europe on the origins of the werewolf myth. for my werewolves i chose to go with the ancient Greeks since "lycanthropy" is a greek word and i had decided that in this universe, the greek gods were fey. Selene was a powerful fey who created lycanthropy and tied the malady to the moon, she made herself the center of a cult of worship and used her werewolves as a vicious personal army to torment and control the humans who lived in what she considered to be her domain. When Ian reaches the center of the hedge maze, the statue he climbs is a statue of Selene (ian mistakes her crescent moon crown she is usually depicted with for horns).

ian in his mind refers to the werewolves as lunatics, just a little tease as the etymology of the word is a madness caused by the moon.

i decided vampires are one of the few things in this universe that dont exist, Mickey references the myth as originating from Bram Stoker's Dracula (though he doesnt specify this), a book that one could argue is about real estate. which is both a joke but also please read this incredible post by @gardenerian because its also...not not not a joke.

as a huge fan of Two of Your Earth Minutes by @the-rat-wins, i absolutely HAD to work in a joke in which mickey calls Ian an alien

in chapter 4 the vibe i wanted to capture for Norma's was that of Merlotte's Bar and Grill from True Blood, and many of the characters are based off of or named after True Blood characters.

Eric is named after Eric Northman

Dawn and Tara and Jessica are all characters who at some point were waitresses at Merlotte's. (Though later I realized Dawn and Tara are also iconic Buffy characters, which I happily retcon as being an extra reference)

Glen being a fan of China Beach is a reference to Jenny Nicholson's incredible feature length video essay about the vampire diaries tv series

the fey named paula is named after canon ian and mickey's PO from season 10

the fey named cooper is named after agent dale cooper from twin peaks

aunt barb trades her chickens for an RV - a convoluted reference to the myth of baba yaga having a hut that can move around on giant chicken legs.

ADDING ONE THING: in chapter one Mickey implies Ian is a delinquent and in chapter four Ian calls Mickey a miscreant. this was important to me for some reason but i dont know if its a thing anyone noticed 🥲😆

okay....i think that's it?? for now anyway~ xoxo

[hamliet]

Hi, Hamliet! First of all, thanks for your fics and metas! As someone who is blind to LGBTQ you helped me to learn. Also, you are the only one (that I know until now) who also love to talk about Christianity and know about Bible.

See, I was raised by a religious mother who is homophob and now she love "that" president who got chosen again. I love my mum so much, but it's okay that I'm sad by her choice right?

She really chose him just because he "looks religious", can you believe that?

And I tried talk to my mum about how I enjoy queer thing, and she looked at me sad and angry so I lied. Then she sent me sermon of how LGBTQ people will end in hell. And how she is proud that the real gender is only male and female.

Because of that I kinda loose a little faith in christianity (is it weird, I'm so sorry)? Have you ever feel that?

My mum really love king David's story, so when I found your post about how he is a disaster bi, I laughed so hard. Because my mum who is anti LGBTQ not realized that the person she like is bisexual, too...

Also, Paul not married at all, can he be ace or aro?

If I can asked, what is your fav story from Bible and your fav person in it?

Hello hello!

First off, I'm sorry about your mother. I understand. My own mother isn't pro-him, but a lot of my loved ones, including people who actually helped me find a real faith instead of the indoctrinated fundamentalism, have fallen to him. I hate what that man and what he stands for have done to them. I want my loved ones back. Give me back my loved ones, you alt-right brainwashing conmen.

And, I'm also angry. I don't know that I'll ever really forgive them--or, that even if I love them and forgive them, the anger won't cease so long as we live with the consequences they have inflicted on, to use the biblical term, "the least of these." Basically, the vulnerable, the people those in power don't consider. I don't think it's wrong to feel that righteous anger.

But I still want them back.

Just remember that the Bible says this about looking religious:

Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You shut the door of the kingdom of heaven in people’s faces. You yourselves do not enter, nor will you let those enter who are trying to (Matthew 23:13).

Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world (James 1:27).

I don't say this to condemn your mom, or my own loved ones. Just to say that Christians in America--particularly evangelicals--have utterly lost sight of who Christ is, and when someone actually speaks the word of Jesus to them, they want her executed for treason. The American church has sold out for power, for comfort, for wealth, but you can't serve God and mammon. And the consequences of it will be its destruction. The problem is that so many innocents don't deserve this.

As for the LGBTQ thing, sigh. I'm sorry. It's awful. Sometimes I just want to ask people to read about Complete Androgen Insensitivity Syndrome--which was only first recognized 200 years ago--and tell me with a straight face that there are only two genders, and that we know everything there is to know about gender and couldn't possibly be missing key information, even biological information, that informs gender identity.

(I'm not saying there is certainly biological information or that that is necessary to believe queer people are perfectly and wonderfully made in the image of God, as are we all. I'm just saying that I do think people who default to biology need to consider how much we still don't know and are discovering about genetics.)

I don't think it's weird to lose faith. I think it's what happens when we're in a culture where the people who boast about their faith are so far from the very faith they describe. It's a natural consequence. All the far-right conservatives in the US would be better with millstones hung around their necks for the damage they're doing to everyone--both the vulnerable, and to God's name. Because God's name is synonymous with the vulnerable. If you treat the vulnerable with anything other than love and respect, I'd say that's blasphemy, because he's on their side.

So, the funny thing about my favorite Bible story and character is... it's David and specifically his story with his son Absalom. I actually wrote a whole theology paper on it.

The saying that David was "a man after God's own heart" is true, but while we often assume that means God's heart has us slaying giants and ruling, the reality is that David was never closer to God's heart than when he was weeping over his lost son. Because God himself knows what it's like to lose a son.

The irony, though, is that Absalom went really, really wrong. Just like the path so many Christians in American are taking right now. A path of power and self-aggrandizement, where the hypocrisy is out for everyone to see, and the innocent pay the price.

I think God's weeping over them, too.

Oh, and about Paul, for sure he could be! He actually was also quite likely married at one point, because he claims to not be lacking in any qualifications according to the religion of his day--and one of those was to be married. A lot of scholars theorize his wife left him after he converted, which would certainly explain a lot of his darker view of marriage. </3

[peaceisadirtyword]

Fate (Ivar/Reader)

A/N: Hello!🥰 As I said here’s the first fic I wrote about season 6B. I already loved Ivar but his evolution during this last season made me love him even more (I didn’t know that was possible). And I was dying to write for him (I even have a series planned, but I’ll wait until I’ve finished Move On and maybe Hate to post it. 

This one will only have 2 parts, next one will be posted maybe tomorrow! I really hope you like it, and that I have captured this “new Ivar” well enough! And, of course, this contains spoilers for season 6B!! so if you haven’t seen it yet don’t read it!😅 

I was going to post this one earlier this week but I had a pretty big exam today and I was exhausted. So next part will be posted maybe tomorrow or on Sunday!☺️

Also, thanks to @ivarhoegh for reading this before and telling me her opinion🥺🙏🏻 I hope y’all like it and enjoy the reading, thank you!

Warnings: mentions of sex, alcohol and violence, Ivar might be a bit out of character, my bad writing (?) not much! 

Words: 3459

gif belongs to @therealcalicali​

You knew he'd be back. The Ragnarssons would always go back to Kattegat. For some reason, you had the feeling he would be back soon and not with the Rus. 

A single boat, a Rus boat, which meant he didn't betray them or escaped from Kiev. Hvitserk came with him, of course, that made you smile softly. Hvitserk would always go back to him because he loved his little brother but didn't even know it. 

People booed, spat and yelled insults at them as you watched, silently, standing at the end of the crowd and rolling your eyes at the insults. You knew they'd be laughing and toasting while yelling their names very soon, as they always did with their father. 

Ivar had changed. He looked much more calmed, not so tense nor ready to attack to the first person that angered him. He had a huge scar on his angelic face, you frowned at it, angry at whoever dared to hurt his beautiful features. He had changed a lot. Of course, you had seen him at the battle against the Rus, but then you ran away from him, not even thinking about trying to fight him. 

You watched as Erik lead them to the Great Hall, where, you supposed, they'd meet King Harald. 

"Fucking traitors" someone spat next to you, making you raise an eyebrow and turn around to look at him "We should kill them and leave their bodies to the wolves" 

"Now that's no way to speak about the sons of Ragnar, is it, Einar?" You bit your lip to hold back a smile. 

"Their father would do it if he was here" he scoffed "They betrayed us all" 

Sighing, you started walking back to your little house, not far from the Great Hall. Seeing him again had been maybe too much, and you needed some time to yourself. 

Einar stopped you, though, taking your arm. 

"Will I see you tonight?" He licked his lips. You frowned softly, not really in the mood to see him. Some days ago, you'd said yes, opened the door to your house for him and then have sex until you passed out, but now Ivar was back and that changed everything. 

"I'm tired" you smiled apologetically at him "Maybe some other day" 

Einar sighed, but nodded. He was an asshole sometimes, but at least he respected you. 

Inside of your house, you started the fire on the fireplace to warm the house a bit as you took off your clothes. You had no intention of going back outside, so you'd eat something and get into bed. With some luck, you'd get some sleep. 

A part of you wanted to think you'd never see Ivar again. Even if it hurt, after seeing him every single day since you were both kids, it would have helped to forget him, but then again... Would you ever forget him? Not even so much time apart, since he left Kattegat when Björn took it until he came back to Norway with the rus army, had made you forget him. In fact, you'd swear your feelings were stronger than ever. 

But it was exhausting. To search for those ocean eyes, wishing and praying to have them look back at you even if it was for a second, to go to sleep thinking about him and wake up thinking his face was the first thing you wanted to see. You had always been there, looking at him when everyone else looked at his brothers, fighting alongside him to avenge his father, conquering York with him, and going back home with your king, he always was your king. 

Your parents were always worried about your unhealthy obsession with the youngest Ragnarsson. At first, they thought it was only a stupid crush, but as you kept growing and your feelings didn't disappear, they realized it was serious.

Then you heard that Ivar had sex with Margrethe, that pretty slave that had his older brothers pursuing her, and you were so devastated that you searched for comfort anywhere. And you found it on his brother Hvitserk's arms. 

You never regretted losing your virginity to Hvitserk, he was a good lover even if he didn't really remember your name the day after. 

Your parents left Kattegat when Lagertha was queen, disagreeing with the way she killed the former queen, Aslaug, Ivar's mother. You know how much he loved his mother, how close they were, and your heart ached for him as he lost both his parents at the same time. 

So you joined the army and sailed to England to avenge Ragnar. Always fighting by his side, always watching his surroundings, killing every single person that dared to get close to him. And learning that, like his brother, he'd never remember your name, because he was a prince, a son of Ragnar Lothbrok, fated to be a legend like half of his family was, and you were just a girl, the daughter of a seamstress and a warrior that learnt to fight for her prince knowing she would never become his princess. 

Then he became king, and took a queen. You still remembered how much it hurt to see him looking at her like that, how broken your heart was when he announced he'd marry her, and that they would have a child. You tried to hate Freydis, but you couldn't hate someone who made him that happy. You didn't want him suffering the same way you did for him. Ivar was special, and he deserved to be loved and happy. 

You could have left, escape Kattegat and never look back, but you couldn't. And it broke your heart when he did leave. 

Now he was back, and you were still the young girl in love that would fight an entire army of Christians for him. 

_______________________________________

King Harald was throwing a feast. It surprised you, as you didn't think the king would be so keen to throw a feast for Ivar the Boneless, former king and the source of most of his headaches. 

You wore a dark red dress your mother had sent to you, with your hair  barely braided and some kohl on your eyes. You never dressed for men, you couldn't care less about men's opinion about you, but you found yourself wondering if Ivar would notice you. It was like going back to being sixteen, trying to catch his attention without him knowing you were trying. 

It had been a long time since you stepped into the Great Hall for the first time. You didn't really attend the feasts when Björn was king, you were somewhat angry at him, at his family and his men. They were the reason Ivar left. 

And you probably wouldn't have attended this feast if you hadn't known for sure he would be there. 

He sat on king Harald's table, with Hvitserk sitting at the opposite side of him. The king, his wife and Erik sat facing the crowd. It was a weird feast, people didn't sit down and many chose to eat while standing. It was also awfully quiet, and everyone eyed the main table suspiciously, as if they were waiting for Ivar to stab king Harald at any second. It wouldn't have surprised you if he did. 

Einar drank horn after horn of ale next to you. Sometimes, he'd stop laughing with his friends and mutter some insults to the Ragnarssons, but not too loud. Not even Einar was foolish enough to insult the Ragnarssons in public, especially Ivar. 

You hadn't said a word. It felt familiar to stay silent, drinking and eating quietly and sneaking glances to Ivar sometimes as you had done your whole life. He had changed a lot, you could see he wasn't as defensive as before, his eyes didn't scan the room expecting to find someone laughing at him. But even if he was surrounded by people that probably would love to cut his throat and throw his body into the sea, he looked relaxed, making small talk with the king sometimes, as if he had everything under control. 

Suddenly, everything went quiet. Ivar looked at the crowd for the first time, his hands rubbed his lips as everyone stared at him and his brother. He could feel the resentment on their eyes and, for a moment, his eyes fixed on you. 

His eyes widened softly when he recognized you, but you looked away before you could see it, directing your glance to King Harald, who stood on his feet looking sternly at his people. 

A fake smile curved Harald's lips as he walked closer to the crowd. You barely listened to him, even if you kept your eyes on him, almost afraid of letting them wander around to find Ivar again. 

"Ivar regrets the way he ruled here" Harald pointed at him. Ivar didn't even try to look ashamed, looking directly to his brother. Neither him nor Hvitserk seemed to understand Harald's game "He was young, the responsibilities were too great, and he forgot the lessons of his father" 

You raised an eyebrow. Ivar had lost his mind for a woman while ruling, something his father had done too. Men could pretend to be all powerful and great, but women had the true power, the power to make them do unimaginable things out of love and obsession. 

"And his brother, Hvitserk, he never meant to kill Lagertha" Harald continued "How could he ever mean to kill such a goddess?"

Hvitserk never meant to kill her, that was true. You had been the witness to his illness, you had lost the count of how many times you found him, all drunk, drugged and wandering around Kattegat. You gave him food, but he never accepted your help more than that. He wasn't himself when he killed Lagertha, but he never regretted it. 

"They are who they are" Harald kept talking "But they are also sons of Ragnar"

Ivar looked at the people again, this time with a defying glare on his face, nearly asking who would dare to try and kick him out of his own home.

"I don't trust them" Einar clenched his jaw, and you felt his grip on your waist. He was half drunk and that gave him a false feeling of courage. Ivar heard him, and he narrowed his eyes. 

Then someone stood up. A man, whom you had seen drinking maybe too much ale, was standing bravely, looking at Ivar. 

"So tell us, Ivar, is it true you are a God, like you told us?" 

You tensed up, and gasped when Ivar stood up. Everyone was silent, looking at him. He walked until he reached the middle of the room, and he threw his crutch to the floor. 

You closed your eyes, not wanting to see him collapse on the floor. You heard him fall. And suddenly everyone was laughing. You opened your eyes to see him laughing too. 

Just like that, he won their trust again. The music started playing, and the mood in the room shifted quickly. Ivar was still on the floor, looking proud of what he just did, and letting his eyes wander around the room. He found you again, and this time you held his gaze.

__________________________________________

It was hot inside. Einar had reached the point of groping you, trying to make you sit on his lap to lift your dress. You managed to wiggle out of his grip and made your way out of the Great Hall. It was overwhelming, especially after all the tension of knowing Ivar was back. You barely slept the night before, and you weren't feeling like celebrating, what exactly would you celebrate? That you would be back to being the stupid little girl obsessed with a prince that wouldn't look at her twice. 

There was a couple of drunk men yelling and laughing when you walked down the streets of Kattegat while trying to get home. Hail Ivar, they yelled, making you raise an eyebrow. They were Einar's friends, and they had been cursing the name of both brothers a few hours ago. Men. 

But as you continued walking, your head throbbing from all the ale you had drank, a voice startled you. 

"I know you" 

You froze. You knew that voice very well, but had never heard it directed to you. 

Ivar was half hidden inside one of the barns. There was a torch next to him, and the dim light made him look even more handsome. You raised an eyebrow, and it took all of your willpower not to start running. 

"You know me?" You cleared your throat. 

"Yes" he pressed his lips together "You're Y/N, aren't you? You're a shieldmaiden" 

He knew your name. The fucking Ivar Ragnarsson knew your name. 

"Yes" you walked closer to him, trying not to stare at him too much. His crutch was leant against the wall next to him, and he had a wooden stick on his hands, in which he carved patterns with one of his knives "And you're Ivar" 

He smirked at you. It made your knees weak. 

"We fought together, didn't we?" His soft voice was like velvet, it was like a gentle caress when you were about to fall asleep "In England, I remember seeing you fight in York" 

You nodded. He tilted his head curiously, his ocean eyes looking you up and down. Those eyes you had always dreamt of. 

"I saw you on the Great Hall and I was surprised, I barely know anyone here anymore" he frowned, looking around "It felt nice to see a familiar face" 

"What are you doing here?" You blurted out. You didn't want to be rude nor make him uncomfortable, and immediately you bit your tongue. 

Ivar smirked again. 

"You mean here in a barn or in Kattegat?" He chuckled. 

"Both" you frowned. 

"I was feeling a bit overwhelmed in there" he shrugged "I needed some air and I needed to be alone for a bit... And, to be honest, I don't know why I am in Kattegat, I just needed somewhere to go, but it doesn't feel like home anymore" he looked at you in the eyes. It was so intense that you had to look away after a few seconds. 

You nodded softly.

"I'm glad you're back" you muttered. Ivar tilted his head with curiosity. 

"Did I kill any member of your family? Should I be careful in case you're planning to stab me?" 

It was the first time you smiled in front of him. 

"No, if you had killed someone I loved, I would have stabbed you long ago" 

He sighed, nodding his head. 

"Fair enough" 

"You did break my heart, though" you whispered, approaching him to lean your back onto the wooden wall next to him. Ivar narrowed his eyes, confused, but didn't say anything. 

"I just remember you were a really good fighter" he shrugged "And that you slept with my brother once" 

That surprised you. You looked at him, flustered. 

"I..."

"I wasn't... I wasn't spying on you or anything" he chuckled "I just saw you sneaking out of Hvitserk's room, I was sitting on the throne" 

"So I made a great first impression, didn't I?" 

Ivar smiled. A genuine smile, not a smirk, a real smile. 

"It wasn't the first impression, I had seen you training more than once, and I saw you when you came with your mother to see mine, I remember she made her dresses" 

Your lips parted in surprise. So Ivar did see you. You always thought he never paid attention to you, that he didn't know of your existence. Knowing you were wrong made you feel a strange warmth on your chest. It was nice. 

"You've changed" you pointed out in a soft voice. He had changed a lot, the Ivar you knew was very different to the one standing next to you. But it was a nice change. You liked it.

"Everyone says that" he raised an eyebrow. 

"Maybe because it's true" 

He shrugged, and his eyes went back to the piece of wood on his hands. 

"Why didn't you stay with the Rus? Why risk everything coming here?" 

"Did Harald pay you to ask me all of this?" He laughed. 

"No" you bit your lip to hold back a smile "I'm just curious" 

He looked at you again, with the ghost of a smile on his lips. His eyes shone under the dim light of the torch, and you felt the need to lean in to kiss his pouty lips. 

"I learnt a lot in Kiev" he muttered "I understood many things, and I met people that marked me forever" his voice had so much emotion that you wondered if he was talking about a woman "But my destiny isn't there, and I had to move forward" 

"So where is it? Your destiny" your eyes lightened up with curiosity. 

"I don't have a clue" he raised an eyebrow, smiling at you softly "I figured I'd come back to where I started, trusting the Gods would tell me what should I do" 

"Have you heard from them yet?" You giggled. 

"No, not yet" he chuckled. 

"Give them time" you shrugged "You're a favorite of the Gods, Ivar Ragnarsson, they'll guide you" 

Ivar looked surprised, and turned his head to look at you a bit better. He remembered seeing you around Kattegat when he was young. Once, after you had been in the Great Hall to give Aslaug a new dress your mother had finished for her, he had told his brothers he thought you were pretty. They teased him for days. He felt a small tug on his heart remembering the playful banter and the teasing. 

He had seen you look at him. At first it annoyed him, thinking you stared at him because of his legs, but then he caught you staring at him more than once the same way the girls stared at his brothers. It helped with his self-esteem, more than he'd ever admit. 

"What about you?" He shook his head. Any feelings you might have had for him were in the past, he was sure, he'd seen you with a man in the Great Hall. 

"I'm afraid my life isn't as interesting as yours" you giggled "I haven't left Kattegat"

"I know very well that things can happen without leaving Kattegat" he raised an eyebrow. 

"I just keep training, and sometimes I go to raids" you shrugged "And I work around here... Not much"

Ivar's eyes flicked back to yours, interested. 

"No husband, no children?" 

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. 

"No one finds me interesting enough to marry me" you sighed "And children? I can barely take care of myself" 

"I find you interesting" he muttered, and for a moment you thought you hadn't heard him right "I mean" he cleared his throat, chuckling "I'm glad to see you're well"

"Thank you, I'm glad to see you're..." You frown, looking at the scars on his face, that seem rather new "Alive" 

Ivar hummed, nodding when he realized you looked at his scar. 

"Thank my dear brother for this" he scoffed. You smiled at him. 

"You probably deserved it" 

He looked at you, surprised, but nodded softly. 

"Yeah, I kind of deserved it" 

Ivar the Boneless admitting he had done something wrong? Wow, you didn't know what had happened while he was with the Rus, but that was a huge change. 

Ivar turned to look at you when he heard you giggling. He liked you, he felt at ease with you. He felt like he didn't need to impress you, as you knew him too well already, but also didn't seem to be angry or afraid at him like the rest of Kattegat. 

His eyes hypnotized you again, they were even more beautiful from up close. 

Without realizing it, you leant into him. Ivar's eyes twinkled as he understood your intentions, and you'd swear he leant into you too. 

"Y/N!" Einar's scream startled you. Ivar turned his head to glare at the drunk man that stumbled down the street, with eyes half closed and looking around "Where are you?" 

You leant back with a sigh. You had forgotten about Einar and how needy he was when drunk. Ivar raised an eyebrow at you, and you took a deep breath, visibly embarrassed. 

"He's... Einar" you groaned "I should go and make sure he gets home"

Ivar nodded slowly. 

"It was nice talking to you then" 

"Same" you gave him your widest smile. Your first conversation with Ivar Ragnarsson had been very different from what you had imagined, but also better. 

"Good night, Y/N" he smirked. 

"Good night, Ivar" 

_________________________________________

Tags: @mblaqgi​ @alicedopey​ @lol-haha-joke​ @hallowed-heathen​ @naaladareia​ @tephi101​ @captstefanbrandt​ @love-hate-love​ @titty-teetee​ @readsalot73​ @moondustmemories​ @thevikingsheaux​ @therealcalicali​ @chimera4plums​ @blushingskywalker​ @awkwardfangirl02​ @gruffle1​ @justacripple​ @heartbeats-wildly​ @letsrunawaytotomorrow​ @inforapound​ @sallydelys​ @hellogabysblog​ @winchesterwife27​ @hecohansen31​ @youbloodymadgenius​ @xinyourdreamsx​ @funmadnessandbadassvikings​ @eteramfools​ @tgrrose​ @flokidottirsstuff​ @lovessce​ @tootie-fruity​ @didiintheblog​ @alexhandersenx​ @belovedcherry​ @fantasydevil2002​ @xceafh​ @astrape-the-weatherwitch​ @destynelseclipsa​ @katarokkar11 @momowhoo​ 

Okay I hope I didn’t forget anyone :( Tumblr doesn't send me notifications and sometimes the asks don’t even appear on my inbox💔 so please if I didn’t add you to the taglist tell me!

[apostate-in-an-alcove]

hello hello! Really sorry this ask is out of the blue but uhh. It’s the beginning of lent and so I’m a little in my feelings rn. I just wanted to ask as an ex-Christian like… do you ever feel a little stuck in-between?? This is worded so badly aaa but you know. Like as if you will never truly be free of the church despite it going against everything you stand for

Just for reference I was raised in A very weird household - my mother is a Latin Roman Catholic and my dad was an African Eastern Orthodox Catholic so even from youth I’ve always felt like I was stuck in some kind of limbo due to the conflicting views on dogma despite technically belonging to the same branch of christianity and it only got worse when my dad left his religion and my mother basically became an extremist. I never felt like I did enough for my religion and leaving to live in a more secular country for a few years really compounded on that and genuinely made me break down from the back to back crises of faith I was having on my own

now I feel sometimes like I don’t want to be religious. I deffo don’t want to be a Catholic of any kind at least, esp. considering the stances they take on my lifestyle (being queer, pro-choice, unwilling to get married or have children etc.) and I don’t like to pray or visit the church anymore, but I never want to call myself an atheist bc I still?? Kind of believe in some of the scripture I was taught growing up?? and mostly I won’t lie I feel lost without religion as a blanket. I think most of all I miss the community but that is fully blocked off from me now ever since I came out. I just…. I dunno. I wanted to talk to somebody about my crisis and to vent but I obviously don’t have anyone to do that with irl.

I’m really really sorry to be trauma dumping out of the blue btw but I just don’t know who I can realistically talk to and it’s been eating me up for a while now. More so bc of the season and being away from my family and from faith as a whole, and I really admire how open and forthcoming you are about your own experiences so wanted to do the same - if this is upsetting to you honestly don’t feel pressured to respond!! I just needed to get this off my chest. Also if nt already obvious this is Not an opportunity for Christians to proselytise, I’ve had enough of that to last a lifetime

No, I get what you're saying. It took me awhile to even label myself as an atheist because I was still attached to Catholicism and my theistic beliefs for a long time. And there's times where I do miss the community and security that came with that and the answers religion could provide. The loneliness is tough to deal with but it’ll take time to pass as you find more like-minded people and move on to greener pastures.

It certainly does feel like the Church will somehow always have its grubby hands on you in some way forever and this seems like a common thing when I talk to other ex Catholics (though this could certainly apply to other denominations and cults). There's work to be done in terms of deconstructing what we were taught in the Church and the Church ultimately has no authority over you and who you are and the life you wish to build. It'll just take time.

You don't have to leave Christianity or religion entirely though. There's plenty of ex Catholics who join other, more progressive denominations of Christianity or they move on to other religions and spiritual practices. I came to the conclusion of atheism after reevaluating my faith and religion and chose to deconvert, but I respect that that isn't the choice that everyone will make.

I'm sorry you're experiencing this Anon, it's rough. I wish you the best.

[graphicabyss]

XVII-XVIII Century Royal Queer History

Unexpectedly to myself, I got really engaged in history of Europe of XVI-XVII centuries. I never really had much interest in kings and queens and didn't know much about them but once I began to read and learn about their personal lives, I got kinda hooked. Also, I was struck by how many of them were queer and I began to write down my findings, which inevitably turned into a freaking study. I thought I might as well post it.

I'm gonna start with King James I of England who ruled in XVII century. Now there are several tumblr posts about this queer legend. Some historians think he was weak and unremarkable but he survived several assassination attempts, kept his power over 3 countries and lived to old age, which is pretty remarkable on its own. He also kept all the religious leaders at bay and commissioned the world's most famous Bible, which is still owned by most Christians 400 years later. He was also the one who created the modern wedding ritual. You know, church, vows, rings, that stuff. He avoided wars and was a patron of the arts, even wrote some books, including one about demons, werewolves and vampires. What a nerd. He was very different from Elizabeth who preceded him, so one contemporary epigram stated "Elizabeth was King, now James is Queen". Oh, also he was very gay. Or, at least, as gay as a king can get. His relationships with his male courtiers were notorious. He had several favourites who had way too much influence over him and his court really hated it.

He needs to have a movie made about him, seriously. I found only one semi-documentary film and it was The King James Bible: The Book That Changed The World (2011). While I liked the film and King James was hot, sassy and very cool, it was disappointing he was shown as perfectly straight. They could just avoid his personal life altogether, but instead they chose to show him being a perfect husband. While it is true that he was nice to his bride, by the time he met her he had a 10-year old relationship with a man 24 years his senior (since he was 14). I'm just gonna use this screenshot from the movie instead of a painting because it's too good.

Perhaps the most notorious of his alleged lovers was George Villiers, 1st Duke of Buckingham. Starting out as a son of a minor gentleman, the 21-year old lad caught the eye of King James I and quickly became his favourite teasing him by dancing in intricate performances called masques. He made a brilliant career becoming a knight, an earl, a Marquess, and finally a duke - a title normally being reserved for members of the royal family - within just 9 years. Can you blame him though? I mean, look at that stud.

Btw, James’ pet name for Buckingham was ‘Steenie’, derived from St. Stephen who reportedly had the face of an angel.

The name Buckingham seemed oddly familiar to me but it took some time before I realized he was one of the characters in Dumas's "The Three Musketeers". Now I am someone who grew up on old pure Three Musketeers movies so when I started learning about the real historical figures involved in it it gave me a slight shock as the truth is way more weird and sinister that fiction.

The storyline I remember the most was the one where Anne of Austria, the queen of France, got in trouble with her husband Louis XIII because of her affair with Duke of Buckingham. Of course, Duke of Buckingham was never the Queen's lover, he was the King's. What's more, some historians assume Louis XIII was also queer. There is no evidence that Louis kept mistresses, but he had very intimate relationships with his favourites. He has even been described as “repelled by female contact”. There's also the issue of him struggling to have an heir. His wife had 4 pregnancies that were unsuccessful but that seemed like too few for a king who needed to secure his dynasty. After 23 years of trying, the king and queen were finally able to produce a son and another soon followed, the older son to become Louis XIV, and the younger, Philippe, to be known as Duke of Orleans.

Anne was quite the character for a dramatic story too. After Louis's death she became the Regent and made sure to clear the way for her son Louis. To ensure that Louis's younger brother will not try to usurp the power from him as it was with Louis XIII 's brother, Anne of Austria conducted an early and very wicked gender development experiment. She and her adviser, Cardinal Mazarin, set up a plan to raise the two boys very differently. Queen Anne called Philippe by such nicknames as "my little girl" and encouraged him to dress in feminine clothing, which he sometimes did even as an adult.

I'm just gonna use this quote because this shit is real: The queen and Mazarin discouraged the duc d'Anjou [Philippe] from traditional manly pursuits such as arms and politics, and encouraged him to wear dresses, makeup, and to enjoy feminine behaviour. His inclination toward homosexuality was not discouraged, with the hope of reducing any threat he may have posed to his older brother. Reportedly, Cardinal Mazarin even commanded his nephew, Philippe, to de-flower the king's younger brother.

Well, fuck. The joke's on them though, as Philippe grew up to be a fashion icon AND a fierce warrior. He participated in many battles and was immensely praised for his bravery and valour. In 1677, he led the French forces at the Battle of Cassel against William III of Orange of the Netherlands. Yes, that guy who later gently invaded England and took the throne. By the way, there are some allegations that he was also gay. Anyway, Philippe was so badass in battle that people glorified him as a hero and it made his stallion of a brother so jealous he sent him back and never allowed him on the battlefield again. Louis XIV continued his mother's effort in encouraging his brother's effeminate behaviour and putting up with his homosexual relationships, all the while waging a war of homosexuality in France. I mean, gotta preserve the traditional values, such as fucking 12 mistresses who were often married. There were even rumours Louis fucked Philippe's wife. I guess he was trying to make up for his father, brother, son, and uncle, César de Vendôme. Meanwhile, Philippe gave no fucks. He had a number of favourites and didn't even try to hide his sexuality. In fact, it is said that every time Louis pissed him off, Philippe did something extra gay and in his face. Fierce.

One guy I have to mention is Armand, the Comte de Guiche, who was said to be handsome, vain, and manipulative. Armand was Philippe’s lover, but he is widely thought to have been his wife Henrietta’s lover as well. That apparently wasn’t enough for the guy, because in 1665 he also tried to romance Louise de La Valliere, who was Louis’ chief mistress at the time. Louis exiled him in 1662 for plotting with Henrietta to break up Louis and Louise. What a glorious fucker.

But the love of Philippe's life was Chevalier de Lorraine who was basically a prince of a realm outside France. He's usually called 'Chevallier' but his name was also Philippe. He also had an older brother named Louis. Seriously, couldn't they try a little harder with the names? Anyway, when they met Philippe was 18 and Chevalier 15 and sparks flew. He was described as being “as beautiful as an angel” and was more than ready to use what his mama gave him. He was smart and very manipulative and Philippe showered him with gifts all his life, much to the chagrin of his two wives whose money and estates he often gave away.

He moved to Palais-Royal, the same palace as Philippe and his wife Henriette. Very convenient. Philippe's marriage got kinda crowded. Chevalier got so arrogant, he actually told Philippe's wife she needs his permission to sleep with him and that he could get him to divorce her. She complained to the king and he got Chevalier imprisoned and exiled. However, not for long as Philippe pleaded the king to pardon him and eventually succeeded. Henriette did not get much relief apparently as she wrote: “I see from the ashes of Monsieur’s love for the Chevalier, as from the dragon’s teeth, a whole brood of fresh favourites are likely to spring up to vex me.” Of course, Chevalier also managed to enrich himself immensely by getting Philippe and the king to give him and his family tons of perks, such as make him the titular Abbot of four abbeys, which payed handsomely.

Henriette died very suddenly claiming she was poisoned. The doctors found no evidence of that, but there were still rumours that Chevalier was to blame. Philippe had to find another wife, even if he wasn't happy about it. Chevalier stuck around. He was exiled a second time after he apparently seduced the king's son (more on that later) but was able to return again. Their relationship lasted for 40 years, until Philippe's death.

There was a recent TV show called Versailles that depicts Louis XIV’s reign and it has a fairly accurate though romanticized portrayal of Philippe and Chevalier's relationship. Too bad the show is way too violent for me to watch. They look stunning in it~

Anyway, such relationships were far from rare. In fact, apparently there were the so-called confréries (“fraternities”), which were basically gay brotherhoods whose members hung out together and set up orgies. One elite brotherhood was founded between 1680 and 1682. Apart from Chevalier, it included the king Louis XIV's cousin Prince of Conti who was once proclaimed the King of Poland, and Louis's illegitimate son, the comte de Vermandois. The latter was 15 in 1682 when at the court of his uncle Philippe, he met the Chevalier de Lorraine and his sect and apparently got very personally acquainted with Chevalier's younger brother and nephew. When the king learned about it, the group was forcibly dissolved and Vermandois was beaten before the king, exiled from court, and forced into marriage. Another such group was within the highest ranks of nobility at the court of Philippe II, Duke of Orléans, the son of Philippe and the regent at the time when Louis XV was young. They really didn't bother with names, huh? Anyway, they got involved in a number of scandals, in one of which that happened in 1722 a group of 17 noble men gathered in the palace gardens to fuck. The Regent didn't seem very bothered and even seemed to find it amusing.

The Regent, who did not stop smiling, was satisfied that it was necessary to give the nobles a harsh reprimand and tell them that they do not have the best taste [goût] in the world.

Dad would be proud.

There were also some (presumably) queer queens, like Queen Anne of England. Now you might have seen the movie The Favourite but it's heavily satirized and Anne wasn't really childlike and helpless. Actually, this image was created by Sarah Churchill, Duchess of Marlborough, after she was expelled by Anne, and stuck. However, the rivalry between the old and new favourites was very real.

Anne met Sarah when she was just 8. Sarah was beautiful, charming and very persuasive. When Anne became the queen, she made Sarah Churchill her Mistress of the Robes (the highest office in the royal court that could be held by a woman) and gave her a bunch of other really cool titles. She also made her husband, John Churchill, a duke. Thus Sarah became the most powerful person in England after the queen and the queen always listened to her advice. However, as years went by, Sarah became increasingly pushy and insensitive, using the queen to get what she wanted.

Sarah looking fab~

Then comes Abigail Masham, Sarah's impoverished cousin. Abigail was soft, caring and considerate, exactly what the queen needed. Sarah tried to get rid of her but it only angered the queen further and she eventually dismissed Sarah and her husband and banished them with disgrace while Abigale took her place. Sarah then wrote scandalous memoirs, painting the queen as weak and instable, as well as implying that her relationship with Abigail was lesbian. In mid-1708, she helped to circulate a ballad with such lyrics as: “Her secretary she was not / Because she could not write / But had the conduct and the care / Of some dark deeds at night.”

While there is no direct evidence that she and Anne had sexual relationship, there are many letters between the women that are very romantic and intimate. Sarah even used them to blackmail the queen. And you can kinda see why. “Tis impossible for you ever to believe how much I love you except you saw my heart,” the princess wrote in one letter, as quoted in Anne Somerset’s biography of Anne. “If I writ whole volumes I could never express how well I love you,” read another.

Also, like, evidence was hardly even a thing with queer relationships, since the only solid evidence of regular affairs were illegitimate children.

Finally, I really want to talk about Frederick II, the king of Prussia. Buckle up because this is gonna be long.

Until the age of 7 Frederick was growing up with his lit mother and sister. Here they are, looking gorge. I think he's in blue but tbh I'm not 100% sure.

Anyway, as he got older he was taken to his father and that's when things got shitty. His father, Frederick William I, was the model image of toxic masculinity. He was all about power and military and expected his son to be the same. And since the boy was a lot more into music, poetry, and French stuff, his father often beat and humiliated him. He didn't allow him to learn French and Latin because, like, that's so gay. Now he was a real man. With a weird kink for tall guys. He is known for creating the Potsdam Giants, a regiment of very tall men that he didn't use for battle, just dressing them up and making them march. Ultimate straightness. It is probably redundant to say but his father also hated 'sodomy' and it was punishable by death, a law Frederick would repeal.

And the thing is, Frederick wasn't even supposed to become a king. He was the third son. It wasn't even disease. The first son died because a volley was fired close to his crib (because that’s the only way to wake up a real man - canon) and the second died at baptism because the royal crown crushed his skull. And you thought your parents were bad. Poor Frederick didn't even want to be a king, he just wanted to play the flute and do his thing. In a different age he'd be writing musicals on Broadway or something.

Anyway, there are few doubts among historians the man was gay. There's this BBC documentary that downplays it but it keeps saying he grew up in an environment where he was "leading a double life" and that he once wrote to a close friend that he felt he was a mirror that dared not be what nature made it, forced to oblige what was around it. Please.

Frederick's first presumed relationship was at 16, with Keith, the king's 17-year-old page. Unsurprisingly, Keith was soon sent to a far-off frontier. Right after that, however, Frederick got real close with an officer Hans Hermann von Katte. The dude was very woke and they both loved music and poetry but shit got very real very soon. In 1730, Katte and Frederick decided to flee to Britain to escape their despotic fathers. Sadly, they got caught and tried for treason. Although the prince was pardoned, Katte was sentenced to life imprisonment, which his sick dad changed to execution and then forced Frederick to watch it. At execution Katte and Fred shouted to each other endearments in French and before it happened, Frederick fainted. That shit really fucked him up and he got depressed but he toughened up and accepted his fate.

Aged about 20, Frederick was expected to marry. After a few failed attempts, an Austrian bride was selected, Elisabeth Christine of Brunswick-Bevern. Frederick was clearly unexcited and apparently even threatened suicide. As soon as he had secured throne, he sent her away and only met with her out of necessity. They had no children. And some historians are like, "well, they just didn't get along". Well, his folks hated each other but it didn't stop them from having 14 children.

Anyway, his father finally got off his back and as a crown prince, he mostly spent his time reading, composing, watching plays and writing woke political essays. Then his dad died so playtime was over.

Now that sounds like a story of a "weak" king. A man who loved to read books and play his flute. But it's not how it was. As Fred became king, he inherited a very militarized state with a huge-ass army and he worked with what he had. He started expanding Prussia, starting with Austria, which he had old beef with. He wasn't out for world conquest, he struck swiftly and strategically to consolidate and strengthen his state.

Frederick, widely known as Frederick the Great, waged war against much bigger armies with great success and doubled Prussia's size in his reign. Which is why Hitler was obsessed with the guy smh. Would make more sense if he was into the Frederick Senior, with his militarism and his little hobby of inbreeding giants and all. He must have missed the part where he was tolerant, modest and also gay.

Frederick also had a younger brother, Prince Henry, who was also gay. He was an important general in the king's army, though their relationship was quite complicated. Henry married but like his brother, bore no children, ignored his wife and spent time with fine lads.

Look at this unapologetic legend!

When Frederick wasn't battling, he was doing lit stuff. He built a gorgeous palace in French fashion, full of Grecian sculptures and homoerotic paintings. He attracted the best intellectual minds of his time. Voltaire lived there for 3 years btw and he did not hold back to make many "wink wink" references to the king and his Grecian taste.

Speaking of which... One of his closest friends was Michael Gabriel Fredersdorf, an army private and a son of a peasant. Frederick met him as a prince and kept him by his side for the rest of his life, quite literally as he had an adjoined bedroom in his palace. He also made him a chancellor and gave him an estate, which really pissed off the elites.

Frederick is a complex character. Sure, he waged war and very successfully asserted himself as one of the top military leaders in history. But at the time Prussia was a scattered landlocked state, it couldn't just opt out of war so it's not like he could just go "peace out, bitches". But he did so much more. The guy actually believed that the king's duty was to be just and improve the lives of his people. He did some major reforms, improved education, supported art, and practiced religious tolerance, which was pretty woke at the time. He abolished torture and corporal punishment. He made governing more democratic by hiring people based on ability, not just status. Sadly, his cool legacy was utterly destroyed because the Nazi decided to appropriate him as their idol but lately it’s being reassessed. It’s hard to judge him considering how much he went through. But despite it all he became one of the best military commanders in history, one of the most woke and talented monarchs, and of course a legendary queer! 

Disclaimer: I know all of these people did some terrible shit, at least by modern standards, but I'm here to have fun so I'm not going to go there now. Sources: medium.com/@LukeBoneham/the-politics-of-desire-... thehistoryofparliament.wordpress.com/2019/02/21... www.ranker.com/list/life-of-philippe-dorleans/m... cour-de-france.fr/vie-quotidienne/sociabilite-e... aelarsen.wordpress.com/2018/07/20/versailles-th... thedrummersrevenge.wordpress.com/2007/06/22/ref... dirtysexyhistory.com/2017/09/03/a-secret-gay-br... unspeakablevice.tumblr.com/post/82525976110/lou... journals.openedition.org/crcv/14427#ftn161 Marie Antoinette's World: Intrigue, Infidelity, and Adultery in Versailles The Real Versailles - BBC Two

BBC Four - Frederick the Great and the Enigma of Prussia https://medium.com/war-is-boring/historys-greatest-gay-general-fd7d1d311464 https://www.queerportraits.com/bio/frederick https://www.spectator.com.au/2015/10/frederick-the-great-king-of-prussia-is-a-great-read/ http://gayinfluence.blogspot.com/2011/10/frederick-great-1712-1786.html https://www.history.com/news/true-story-queen-anne-sarah-abigail-the-favourite-fact-check

[mantra4ia]

Debris 1x13 "Celestial Body": rewatch Reaction'd, questions and comments

So if all those people are experiencing emotional convergence, who are they converging from? Who's sending the emotional signal that the debris is channeling, or is it the debris manifesting it's "consciousness" in a way that we can understand it by way of human conduits?

Maddox is clearly trading debris pieces with Irina (perhaps the piece that he took out of storage off the books), and Irina is on the phone with presumably her handler/ boss to negotiate this trade. She gives him lateral (which I assume means latitudinal) readings and then he asks for longitudinal readings which we don't get to hear. They are: Lateral 105, 112, 115, 120, 113, 110, 109

What's the significance of these measures? Latitude goes from 0° to 90° from the equator, so that doesn't track unless the scene is cut wrong and they're meant to be longitudinal (E/W) readings, which go to 180° relative to the prime meridian. That would make more sense, because after Irina is done with the first set of readings, the unknown caller on the phone says "drop to level two for vertical" and latitudes are North/South.

If we're talking Western longitudes, notable landmarks include: Denver, Salt Lake City UT / Phoenix AZ / nearly Sedona AZ - aka where the telesphere went, Las Vegas, Lake Tahoe/ Nevada border, Great Salt Lake, Alberta-Saskatchewan border, and the Utah-Arizona border.

Or perhaps they're not part of terrestrial measurement at all. The act of "lateral reading" could just mean verifying your sources/accuracy as you go, where as vertical reading is reading for content first to see if something is worth evaluating for sources.

However, if they are part of coordinates, then is the fragment that Maddox is trading with Irina a legitimate "mapmaker" piece like George previously said Influx was seeking? Ya know, when he lied to his daughter. Can a mapmaker piece track moving/animate debris akin to the telesphere? Are those black dust cloud beings George is running from made up of animate debris?

Bryan: After becoming a parent you're in a heightened emotional state, emotionally raw.

George: Higher highs, lower lows, the joy of having a child, the postpartum depression, and the fear of getting it wrong.

Me: Are we in a pensive, self-reflective mood, George? Are you practicing your pub trivia Bryan, delivering exposition, or are you speaking from personal character experience? Seriously, how would you know?!

John Noble as Otto, man why does he always make such a good villain?

What is with the cryptic vagueness when Maddox tells Irina, "You know I can't let you leave with that case right? I mean you know that. There's another door for you Irina, one that only you can go through." They seemed almost on good terms in a previous episode, like friends or something more in a past life "nice car, i almost left / no you didn't", he wouldn't kill her, would he? Or is it more like a code between them, a sort of "I'm being watched, take the back exit"?

Hey, so why is it that sometimes George's eye seems opaque and damaged from the debris implant, but then when he's talking to Finola after he distracts Bryan while being Debris whisperer, his eye seems fine? PS: I googled Tyrone Benskin just to see what he looks like when he's not playing George Jones and I didn't know he's a former member of Canadian Parliament. Don't trust the government, eh?

George: "You're such a compassionate person, you always have been. So much of your mother in you." That's the second time that Finola's mother has been mentioned in the series, back from the pilot. Is it a coincidence that the first piece of debris that chose to interact with Finola resonated her mom? More than just Finola's desire being reflected by the debris, but the debris emoting it's first impression of her as someone compassionate that it can trust?

It also raises my heckles that George repeats, almost word for word, something that Finola said in episode 3. "If we can't help people, we do not deserve this debris / if we don't use this debris on these people, we are not worthy to have it." Are father and daughter that ideologically similar, or has he been spying on her progress this whole time, or both?

George: "I took my life to allow myself a rebirth, I paid the price. I want you to know that not one day goes by that I don't think of you and your sister. I want you to know this." This coincides with my initial impression that George staged his death to get away from Orbital after he assessed how his research was being used/abused.

George: "You never wanted to go into the pool, I had to throw you in, and you kicked and screamed, but you always did better that way." Immabout to throw you George, just keep talking!!!! I'm sorry, this charicature of absentee father reminiscing about the good old days really ticks me off from personal experience.

Also, as a person with a disability, I am not particularly pleased with the use of Dario as a plot device instead of a thoughtful character with a backstory at this point in the show for 13 whole episodes now. Pretty pissed off actually, so they better do something phenomenal and pivotal with Christian Rose (Dario) in season 2 [maybe have his character interact with debris in a similar way to Caroline]. But that's another rant about ableism in screenwriting for another angry day....

George: "A telesphere was born yesterday. It came from a pocket dimension inside Orbital. I think it's birth may have triggered the debris." This is perhaps the one-ish episode that I find George remotely interesting and also infuriating, particularly because of the way he speaks, like he's finally taken off the guise of the old, well-meaning eccentric and turned into a sharp, cunning, and at times calculatingly ruthless individual. I find it peculiar that he says a telesphere is born. Makes me think that the debris is not just part of a spacecraft, but a hybrid of the beings piloting that craft.

I get tremendous satisfaction from Finola head-butting people. This should continue.

I'm not familiar with all of the work of JH Wyman to know if this is a running theme or an ongoing joke. But does he keep his writing staff in a constant state of starvation? Is that why pieces of debris are called "Nachos", and why Influx has "Beans" to shield them from debris side effects, and why Bryan is always eating junk food? Should I be worried about the writer's room and start sending them healthy snacks?!? Just give me an SOS in the credit roll.

Speaking of: is the "Bean" that Finola ingested a piece of debris? Similar to the pieces of debris that fused with Anson Ash? Will it impart some physical benefits to her moving forward?

"I won't lose you again...you belong with me." What are you talking about George Jones, you made the conscious decision to leave your family. You didn't lose Finola, she lost you. In this version of reality at least. Or (unscripted backstory) did Jones and his wife separate prior to her death / was Finola brought up mostly by her mother? That doesn't seem the case if she was buying her father birthday presents and took it upon herself to settle his affairs after his death.

Why do the Influx Operatives Otto and Anson have tattoos on their hands, but not Loeb? Is he like the low end of the totem pole FNG who hasn't earned his stripes, hence why Otto gives him s***: aka "Careful you cretin. All the finesse of a butcher."

What is the hierarchy of Influx anyway? Despite being an anti-government "for the people/ elevate the human consciousness" organization they do still seem to have a governing hierarchy and Otto and George seem to be on the same level, pretty high in rank / they talk with confidence to each other like they go back a while.

What is that weird thing that Otto does with his hands to Bryan's head? What are all the weird things Otto does, including his massacre at the petrol station? Ick.

Why is it that Leob and George are freaked out by the black smoke (debris particle?) man, but Anson and Otto aren't? They seem to see them(?), but don't overtly react.

Bryan: "It seems like we're entering some kind of new phase." Gee where have I heard that one before? Oh yeah, the story of "Blackwater grandfather" and the black wind that they're still teasing endlessly while refusing to tether it into some kind of world building lore. Agggghh!

Lololol, Bryan and Finola's dynamic even in the midst of a very serious episode makes me laugh. "Devon Reese / two e's? / Two e's!" "This one smells like baby diapers. Almost as bad as the tech section of the plane/ You mean your section of the plane. / Almost." That zinger 👍

Paraphrasing Bryan: "[recapping, recap, and did I mention recap]...something about George doesn't feel right." Personal pet peeve: I HATE IT when episodes have intentional explanatory lines like this to point out the fact that we as audience are privy to information that the main characters aren't. Not only does it make the main characters seem less intelligent, it breaks the fourth wall a little bit and gives the impression that the audience, which is ahead of the plot, is not as intelligent and needs a reminder that we're ahead. Lackadaisical writing drives me nuts!!! I can't outright say that it's "bad" dialogue, but it's not a choice I would make if I wanted uninterrupted viewer immersion.

Finola: "My instincts are good" Me: You are an emotionally intelligent decision maker with gaping personal blind spots.

George: You belong with me, your father.

Finola: My father died six months ago, and you are not him.

Me: Chef's kiss 👏👏👏

Otto: "It would never have worked out with that girl [Finola], not in any iteration." Definitely makes me lean towards the fan theory that the alt!Finola in (presumably) suspensia in Sedona Arizona got plucked from another reality.

Surprisingly, the ending credit roll has no voiceover as all the previous episodes of the season have. Disappointed that there's no potential teaser to a season 2 if the show gets renewed. But I find it curious that the extras who were demonstrating emotional convergence were credited as: chess board persons. Not sure if that's relevant, but I definitely feel like this show is playing games with me and my emotions.

[cursed-and-quirkless]

Chapter 1 - The Curse

Hello all! Welcome to my first MHA fic! This is the first part of a series about if Izuku was a quirkless vigilante, because I really love that trope.

TW: This fic, the first part especially, has some themes of injury, death/being on the verge of death, and ideas of suicide. No suicide is attempted, however. If these ideas bother you, please be cautious. To skip the first part, do not read until the first “~” symbol. There is also weird church stuff (that’ll make sense when you read), so if that makes you uncomfortable please be cautious. Thank you, hope you enjoy!

Ao3: queenofliterature

They say before you die, your life flashes before your eyes. Izuku never thought that was accurate until now.

There had been plenty of times he had almost died. When a shot rang and the muzzle of a gun flashed, the only thing Izuku thought was run, dodge, never anything about who he was, or how he got here.

Now though, now he understood.

Izuku blinked his tired eyes, focusing on the grey sky. The city was surprisingly peaceful, though maybe that was the falling snow coating the sounds of the bustling life under him. Or the ringing in his ears.

Eyes swollen with exhaustion refused to close for too long. If he fell asleep now, he would never wake up. And as much as he lied to himself, Izuku wasn’t ready for that, not yet.

Hypothermia was settling quickly into his bones, his shallow breaths obvious against the cold night. But the gentle flakes tickled his nose, and all he felt was relief when they touched his fevered skin. Besides, he wouldn’t be dying of the cold tonight, the pools of blood gathering steadily underneath him was a testament to that.

Maybe if Izuku tried hard enough, he could roll off the edge. The rooftop had no railing, and if he stretched his arm just enough, he could dangle his hand over the streets below. But that wouldn’t do, he wanted to see the sky when his body finally let go, and his eyes closed and never reopened. Besides, Izuku could barely even move his fingers, let alone roll his entire body. No… he was stuck here.

It wouldn’t be long now.

Perhaps it was the fact that his blood was sluggishly trailing out of his body this time instead of the threat of instant death but…

His mind began to drift.

~

He was happy.

The middle class apartment he lived in with his mother and father always had the drapes thrown open, rays of sun keeping the apartment a comfortable temperature and bathing the bright green house plants.

His mother would playfully yell and scream, the damsel in distress. His father and him were the heroes.

He doesn’t remember much of his father, but he remembers the warm feeling of his chest, of the hot and smoky breath that would tickle his ears and ruffle his hair.

His father’s hands would hold him in the air as he flew to rescue his mother from the villains that had taken her.

Most of his peers probably wouldn’t want to spend their 5th birthday in the doctor’s office, but to Izuku it was the best present his parents could give him. He should have had a quirk by now, Kaccan said so. But if it was taking this long, it should have been cool and powerful! Just like Kaccan’s!

Izuku buzzed in excitement as the doctor read his file and looked at the x-rays they had taken in the big machine they put him in. Maybe he’d get telepathy, or fire, or a combination! Kaccan and him would grow up and be an unstoppable team and they’d share the rank for Number One hero (no matter what Kaccan said) and they’d save people and fight villains and-

“Quirkless.”

And just like that Izuku’s world shattered. The doctor’s uncaring drawl barely pierced his mind as his stomach lurched.

“W-what?” His mother questioned tearfully. His father simply sat there, eyes clouded with something Izuku would never understand. Sure 20% of the world was quirkless, but most were old and that number was dying out everyday. Only .01% of Japan’s population remained quirkless. And Izuku was now one of them.

When Izuku awoke the next day, his father was gone, and his mother wasn’t surprised.

There was no explosion, no shouted words, no hits or screams. His father was simply gone, any traces of him lingered like a ghost. Sometimes Izuku thought he had made up his father, the only proof he had that the man existed were the pictures Mom had kept in the trunk beside her bed.

It was raining the night he got diagnosed, as if the heavens were weeping for the shattered dream of a crushed child. He sat for hours watching the video of All Might saving all those people at the factory, hitting the replay button until his fingers hurt.

“Because I am here! Because I am here! Because I am here!”

Izuku heard the door creek softly behind him, but he didn’t turn around, he didn’t need to. “S-see that Mom?” Izuku’s tiny voice cracked, and he finally turned around. His mother already had tears springing to her eyes, and Izuku would realize later that’s the moment he would never see his father again.

“He always has a smile on his face, no matter how bad things get.” Izuku’s voice was slowly breaking down along with the little boy. “Even when things seem impossible, he never gives up.” Izuku will never forget the look on his mother’s face, the pain and the sorrow.

“Do you think… I could be a hero too?” Izuku already knew the answer to that question, he saw the answer in his mother’s eyes. His mother rushed forward, gripping him tightly and nuzzling into his hair, murmuring apology after apology. Her touch burned and the ache in his chest choked him, but Izuku didn’t bother to fight her off.

Izuku doesn’t even remember his father’s last words to him.

~

Izuku and his mother went to church the next day.

His mother was aching for a sense of normalcy, and some foolish part of Izuku believed his father would be there waiting for them.

His father was half japanese, but he never told Izuku what his other half was. Hisashi’s parents and siblings chose to follow the Christian faith, though what branch Izuku also didn’t know, he never paid attention. There was a small church half an hour away from the Midoriya apartment, and Hisashi thought it would be good for the small family to have a sense of community.

His mother must have opened up that day to the pastor before Sunday Service, because that was the first time Izuku was called a curse to humanity.

The little boy sat in the pew, hunching over as every word the pastor said pierced his heart.

“The quirkless are a scourge, a curse, a remnant of the days of old. They are a reminder of the sins of man!” Izuku’s eyes pricked at the cheers coming from around him. “We must stay strong in the face of adversity!” The cheers were stronger this time. Whatever his mother told the pastor must have sunk deep into the man’s skin, because they spent the next hour listening to the talks of plagues and scourge and punishment that were the quirkless population, all while he looked at the little green-haired boy.

After the service, all Izuku wanted to do was disappear. Going home would mean facing the unnatural quiet that now suffocated the once bright household, and staying here meant facing the lingering glares and whispers. His mother was in the restroom preparing for the semi-long trip back when Izuku heard footsteps approaching.

“Hello, Izuku.” The pastor greeted with a soft smile. He supposed it should be comforting, but all Izuku felt was fear.

“H-hello.” A meek voice greeted back.

“Your mother told me of your condition. I just wanted you to know I meant every word I said. But I can help.” The pastor offered, and despite the dangerous glint in the man’s eyes, Izuku perked up.

“You can?” Izuku asked cautiously. Maybe this would make Dad come back! And he could make Mom happy again! Izuku’s heart clenched when a hand grabbed his wrist.

“Come, child, it's not your fault. The children of God are innocent, you are being punished for the misgivings of your ancestors.” The gentle words of the pastor did nothing to ease the bile growing in Izuku’s throat. The more Izuku fought, the tighter the bruising grips became.

“W-wait.” Izuku protested as he was dragged away from the restroom. “My Mom! She’ll wonder where I am!”

“It will be a nice surprise for her, don’t you think?” The pastor ignored the protests and continued dragging the boy through the church.

“What-what’s gonna happen?”

“Simple, child. We’ll get the Devil out of you. It may hurt but I promise you’ll be better for it.” The pastor reassured. Thi wasn’t right. Mom and Dad said never go with strangers! But… the pastor wasn’t a stranger, he said he could help?

“Can we ask my Mom, p-please?” Izuku gave a powerful tug, and that seemed to be the last straw.

“Foolish child! Your mother does not understand what needs to be done! I do!” The others in the church startled at the noise, but turned away when they saw what was happening.

Izuku didn’t know what was happening, but he didn’t like it! In a last attempt, Izuku lashed out and bit the man’s hand, pulling away with a gasp when the pastor yanked his hand back.

“You evil child!” The pastor screamed as Izuku ran as fast as his little legs could carry him. He remembered the way to the restrooms, he just hoped his mother would be there. He wanted to go home! He wanted to play hero and be held by his dad and be tucked in by his mom when he fell asleep on the couch!

“Mom!” Izuku screamed when he spotted green hair. The woman quickly turned around from the couple she seemed to be frantically talking too. Izuku’s own eyes matched the tears that were streaming down his mother’s face.

“Izuku!” Inko yelled in relief as her little boy crashed into her. “Baby, where were you? I was worried sick!” Inko cried.

“M-mom, the p-pastor, h-he, a-and-” Izuku couldn’t get any of the story through the spasming of his little lungs. Through hiccuping sobs, Izuku heard the frantic footsteps of the pastor approach him, and he buried himself further into his mother’s neck.

“Pastor? What-what happened?” Inko hesitated at the teeth marks on the hand of the pastor. Her little boy wouldn;t do that for anything.

“H-he said.” Izuku’s little sobs broke her heart.

“Said what, Baby?” Inko coaxed, ignoring the man above them.

“G-gonna get the Devil out.” Inko’s heart dropped, knowing the implication.

“You were gonna beat him?” The horrified whisper reached the poster’s ears and he scoffed.

“Not him, the scourge. The boy may feel pain, but it would make him better.” The pastor declared. Perhaps if Inko hadn’t already been in pieces, she would have yelled at him. Perhaps if her husband hadn’t left and her son wasn’t falling apart she would have defended her son, but for now she had enough.

“Izuku, we’re leaving.” She said to the pastor just as much as her son, and Izuku saw the glance towards his blackened wrist.

It was the first time his mother ignored a bruise, but it would not be the last.

The drive home was quiet, and Izuku didn’t think he would ever get used to the silence that now permeated his new life.

“Mom?” Izuku spoke up, his timid voice uncomfortable with breaking pure silence. “Everything is going to be okay, right?” He just needed to hear those words as his world was crumbling beneath him, ‘It will be okay’.

“Izuku, my baby, there will be many more like him. From now on I want you to walk to and from school with Katsuki. No detours, nothing.” Izuku nodded at his mom’s serious voice. “We’re gonna get you a phone, I want you to text me everyday at lunch, and before and after school, and when you get home.” Izuku nodded again, and kept doing so as more rules were given to him.

When they got home that afternoon, his mother shut down. From afternoon till night, Inko Midoriya held an empty tea cup, not having the energy to fill it. She sat at the table, and tried to remember the deep voice of her husband that floated around the kitchen like embers, and the light and airy voice of her child that bounced against the walls.

Now all she heard was the stone cold silence of a shattered household.

Meanwhile, Izuku sat at the computer. Mom didn't bother to enforce computer time. So he watched the video, over and over again until it somehow pierced the unfeeling void that was beginning to set in. It never did.

“Because I am here! Because I am here! Because I am here!”

He realized that night with a bitter numbness he was already forgetting what his father’s laugh sounded like.

~

Izuku was finally beginning to understand, he knew he was a plague on his mother and father’s life, an infestation in his own skin.

He knew he was a curse.

~~~

Disclaimer: Nothing against any religion. Just as long as you don’t use it to hurt others I don’t care what religion you are/aren’t, this specific church, however, was very radical and was based loosely on unfortunate experiences I had in churches with some personal issues of mine. I just thought it would be interesting to explore how radical groups like this would see quirklessness.

I don't usually do this, but each chapter is gonna have a song I think that fits it!

Chapter Song: i can't breathe by Bea Miller

I have a Discord, and this fic has a channel! Same with Tumblr

Discord: https://discord.gg/UpWvDzKC5R Tumblr: cursed-and-quirkless

[conaionaru]

Honor and Blood (Ivar the Boneless)

A wooden axe

Synopsis: Vanya spends some time with Helga and Floki and finds something out.

Warning: Angst, forced marriage, dark thoughts, Ivar, fluff

Tagged: (hopefully they will work now, I always copy and paste the begging and that’s why the tags didn’t work. I am sorry and I hope it works)

@shannygoatgruff​ @youbloodymadgenius​ @xbellaxcarolinax​ @heavenly1927​ @lol-haha-joke​ @queenbeeta​ @didiintheblog​

P.S. Everything in cursive is in Old Norse. Flashback are in bold and cursive.

(From now on there will be probably big time jumps to hurry the story along a bit... There will be min. 5 chapters before we reach season 4B)

I don’t own the gifs. Also, thank you for your support. I really appreciate it.

It's official. Vanya hates pregnancy. At first, she liked not having her monthly blood, but then came then she started eating like Hvitserk, then the vomiting, then the aching bones, then the tiredness. Now she must make water all the time, and it is so annoying. Everything is really, even the way Bjorn breaths at during meals is driving her insane.

Ivar has been very overprotective, which in turn makes Vanya very angry. No matter how much Aslaug and Torvi reassure her it's normal, Vanya is pretty sure her hair will go gray by the time the child is born.

To ease the tension, Ubbe asked Helga and Floki if they would spend some time with her, while he took Ivar hunting. Bless that boy, because that's what the married couple needed, some breathing space very far away from each other.

And the Saxon liked Helga, she had not seen the nice woman in a long time, and her only company nowadays was the Queen, the Ragnarssons and Brynja. The poor girl was threatened by Ivar, who always trailed them whenever Vanya wanted fresh air, that if anything happened to his wife, Brynja would pay for it with her life. He was being overdramatic, like always. But she still cared for him nonetheless.

So now here she is picking berries with Helga, while Bjorn and Floki talked about ships outside. The oldest Ragnarsson was ordered to go with her by Ivar, to keep her safe. As if somebody might attack her on her way here. "Are these poisonous or not?"

"No, those are alright. It's the red ones that are bad. Do you not have Fläders in England?" Helga asked her with her hands full of berries. She dumped the small dark blue fruit into the basket, set down by Vanya's feet.

Vanya plucked the blue berries from the low hanging branches. "We do. I am sure I saw them in the gardens. I just never ate them. But we call them Elderberries." The ginger explained to the Viking, the sounds of the wild calming her headache instantly. Maybe she just needed some time away from the Great Hall, as Ubbe said.

The blonde woman them walked towards Vanya and showed her a weird root and mint leaves. "Ivar said you get sick in the mornings. Maka tea out of these, and it will help. Peel the ginger and cut it into small pieces, and then pour warm water on both."

Vanya looked at the kind blonde in adoration; she was truly godsent. The redhead thanked her before they took the full basket and moved back to Helga's and Floki's hut.  They could hear the boatbuilder and Ragnarsson talking near the fire while the two women walked around the kitchen. Helga showed her all sorts of remedies made from plants. It was so fascinating for the Princess to see how much meaning every plant really held. Every plant was of use and help, even the poisonous ones, if you thought about it.

The ginger was delighted with learning so much from the woman Ivar saw as a second mother. She was so kind-hearted and shy; it reminded a little bit of herself. Maybe Vanya and Ivar are the second coming of Helga and Floki.  The two slightly crazy Vikings, who love the Norse Gods with all their heart, and the two kind women who love them nonetheless no matter how much pain they might bring them.

Vanya froze in the middle of cutting carrots for a stew. Did she love Ivar? Until now, the redhead liked him and cared for him, yet never did she call it love. Vanya loved the way he was around her, the sweet, caring man who worried for her and their child, even if he went overboard with it at times. She loved the way she felt safe in his arms, but sometimes she feared him because of his temper.

But she felt stupid. Ivar was cruel and angry, but never did he threaten to hurt her. The only time he was mad at her was because of her faith. Well, her father's faith. She didn't believe in God, but she clung to the stories she was taught as a child. He couldn't expect her to forget everything so fast. She didn't pray like a Christian anymore, she spoke to the Norse Gods now, asking them to keep her child safe.

He cared for her too, not because he had to, but because he chose to. And she loved that as well. But did Vanya love Ivar himself? Not just the safety and the child he gave her? Could she truly fall for a man that fast?

Helga looked up from the pot of stew when the chopping noises stopped and looked at the ginger. The said Girl stared blankly at the wall, too deep in thoughts to hear Helga call her name. "Vanya? Vanya, are you alright?"

The Saxon shook her head to clear her thoughts and smiled at her in reassurance. "Sorry, I was thinking. That's all." Helga nodded with her own little smile on her lips and returned to her work as the sound of careful and slow chopping of carrots continued behind her. She stirred the pot, smelling the aroma of her cooking; she lifted the wooden spoon to her lips to taste the stew. "How do you know so much about children, Helga?" The spoon fell from the blonde's hands and hit the floor.

Vanya ran to her side and apologized frantically, thinking she said something wrong. "It's alright..." Helga said softly, picking the spoon up. She inspected the utensil in silence before she looked at the worried blue eyes of Ivar's wife. "I had a daughter. Angrboda. A fever took here when she was three."

"I am so sorry, Helga. I didn't know. I am so sorry." Vanya apologized as tears gathered in the older woman's eyes. She should have kept her mouth shut; it tore at her heart to see such a gentle person suffer.

Yet Helga shook her head and wiped her tears away, smiling a sad smile. "I do miss her, but it is not your fault." The brave Viking stood back up and brightened her smile; she looked like the sun, so bright and warm. "I am sure you will be a great mother, Vanya."

The Saxon shook her head and walked back to the table, but all the carrots were finished. So she couldn't hide behind a meaningless task. "I don't know what a good mother looks like. Expect you. And the Queen."

Helga chuckled and put her hand on Vanya's shoulder. "That means you will have help. And you are a good person, with lots of love in her heart. A person like that can't be a bad mother." The reassurance was a nice thing, yet Vanya wasn't so sure she could be a good mother. Her own was distant and turned a blind eye to anything that displeased her.

"Stop dreaming, child. You are of royal blood. Love was never an opinion. You don't have to love that man. All you have to do is stand by his side, smiling and carry and raise his children. You never have to love him. Only love your children. In that, you will have no choice."

Did Queen Siflæd love her children, or did she just say it to make her shut up? It was a wonder if a woman like her ever knew love. She was married off at sixteen to an older man; she bore him a son because she had to. But she said she used to love him until he slept with another woman—a servant when Silas was four and Siflæd too sick from pregnancy to satisfy him herself. She grew to resent him, and after Vanya was born, she resented both her children also. Now all Siflæd cares about is looking her best while enjoying the freedom to sleep with whoever the Queen wanted to. And the church, for a woman of her past she is a devoted Christian.

Did she ever love anyone? Truly? Blindly? She didn't mourn her husband; she ignored her children and changed her suitors too fast to truly love them. Vanya didn't want to be anything like her. Her mother was wrong. She loves Ivar! She loves everything about him, inside and out. Vanya doesn't have to be the best mother, as long as she will be better than Siflæd.

"I am sure my child will be very loved. So many people love it already, and it is not even born yet. Queen Aslaug is very excited; sometimes, she is worse than Ivar. A few days ago, she wouldn't let me see the orphan children, said they could bump into my belly and could lose my child." Vanya explained remembering Aslaug's nervous attitude anytime Vanya stood up from the table and wanted to move somewhere.

Helga chuckled at the explanation as she made Vanya taste the stew. "She is very eager to have a babe in her arms again. She didn't want to have anymore after Ivar was born so that she could care for him. And now that he will be the first to give her a grandchild, she must be overjoyed."

The two women carried the pot outside and called Floki and Bjorn over to eat. They ate in partial silence, sometimes breaking it to talk of Bjorn's plans. He seemed so determined to explore that foreign place it made her excited with him. She hopes he will be successful on his raid and see the world.

"I got a gift for you, Christian." Floki suddenly said, standing up and walking away. Vanya looked at Bjorn in question, but the tall Viking only shrugged. Helga smiled as Floki walked back with something wrapped in a cloth.

She took the bundle from his hands and slowly opened it, scared of what she might find. Floki still wasn't that fond of her after Ivar told him he caught her praying. Inside the cloth laid a small wooden axe with beautiful carvings on it. On one side of the blunt wooden blade were Odin's two wolves Geri and Freki, while on the other was the Lothbrok raven. A serpent was carved around the handle, its jaws swallowing the axes head. Vanya looked up from the breathtaking craft to look at the giddy Viking. "This is beautiful, Floki. A piece of art."

"It is my gift for the child, a toy. Every man should have an ax. Especially if your father is so fond of them."

"And what if it will be a girl?"

Floki scoffed at that and pointed at the ax again. "Girl or not, she can fight. She will need a real one if she wants to be around boys one day. To fend off Ivar away from killing them." He giggled, happy that the ginger liked the gift he made with a lot of care.

Vanya ran her fingers over the wood, appreciating the masterpiece that laid in her hands. Never could she think that a weapon could look so pretty. She tested the grip on it, noting the lightness of it. It felt good to hold it in her hand, so different from what she imagined a weapon to be like. Maybe it's the fact that it's only toy changed it. Or it was something else. Perhaps all her prayers to be a brave Viking were coming true. She looked up at Floki and thanked him a thousand times till he halfheartedly told her to shut up.

[tanyalovesreading]

My Story

Hey guys!

I have thought about this quite some time, and I think there are more people like me out there. So, I decided I wanted to share my story with you of how I became a witch. It’s been quite some years and maybe I don’t remember certain wordings anymore. But I wanna tell you the honest truth. I think I’ve never actually talked about all of it in detail. And I am not sure yet how this will all play out with me and remembering everything. There are a few things that seem hard to believe, but trust me, this actually happened. So here we go :D

Let’s start with little me. I grew up in a pretty catholic family. In Bavaria. Where everything beside being catholic is not accepted. I went to church every Sunday and to all the big festivities like Easter and Christmas. When you’re in 3rd grade (so about 8/9 years old) you’ll have the Holy Communion. The first one. It basically initiates you into the church. At that time, we didn’t have a choice.

Maybe a few words about the German school system. You HAVE to take religious studies. When I still went to elementary school there was no other option. We had 3 hours a week and the whole year was separated for these 3 hours into 3 groups: Catholic, Evangelic and Ethic. As we had mainly Christians in our area, we got those options and then the Ethic kids. In there were all other religions and faithless people. That’s how it is.

So, if your whole class is attending the Holy Communion you also go. I can’t remember any year, as long as to the end of high school, where not everyone attended. At that age you don’t get it. Why you’re doing this. So, you just attend bible study and youth group and have a lot of fun with your classmates.

Obviously growing up in a catholic family like mine, it is only logical after being initiated to become an altar girl. By that time, we had a really great priest and we were quite many kids. We did a lot of afternoon activities together and went somewhere for the weekend. This took almost all my time. The rest of it I spent at karate. I liked it and it was a great sport that could easily be included with my daily activities.

But pretty soon after the holy communion I went and broke my arm. Bye bye karate… For some time this meant I had more time for church. I attended 5 times a week as an alter girl and it took a lot out of me. It took me about two years (when I attended a catholic middle school) that it was no fun for me anymore. I stopped going to church so much, and said I had to study a lot (which was kinda true). By that time a also joined a choire. I loved it. I mean we also sung at church some time, but most of it consisted of singing classical music, doing musicals and joining the theater for operas or theaters. The dynamic changed and I started to spend a lot of time there.

Until my family (and yes I don’t only mean my parents) got mad at me for not attending church as much. God would hate me. So they sent me off to boarding school. It wasn’t far away, but it was catholic and that would do. The boarding school system was kinda weird. I didn’t know any other boarding school who did this. We only slept there. Our schools where all around the city. The boarding house was mixed with girls and boys. The school I went to was girls only, the boy’s school just across the yard.

So what was our day like? We got up at 6 am, because we were expected at morning prayer at 6:45 am. After that we had breakfast and we went to school. Our walking time varied between 10 – 30 minutes, depending on which school we attended. Most of us (who had a further way back) came from school around 1:45 pm and then we had to hurry to lunch which started at 1:30 pm. After that we had a bit of break, and first study time would start at 2:30 pm. For one hour. Then we would have 15 minutes of break, another hour of study time, 30 minutes of break and then another 45 minutes. By then it would be 6 pm. The day pupils would leave and we had dinner. Don’t forget the praying. After that we actually had some free time until we had to be in bed at 9 pm. On Thursdays we also had to attend evening prayer. And that was our day.

By this time I actually hated praying and god and everything that had to do with it. It took too much out of me and I couldn’t be myself. Around that time (I must’ve been 12) I started reading up on other religions and finding paganism. I’ve only heard about it this far and what I’ve heard was what the church told us. Worshipping Satan, dancing around naked, yadayadayada… I started getting interested when I read and saw what paganism really was about. I started learning about different deities and religious paths even within paganism and decided that I really liked that. The individuality. How everyone wasn’t afraid of their gods and how everyone actually had fun being religious. But I also knew I could never tell my parents. My family. Because I knew what they would say. And this just couldn’t happen. After one year at boarding school I was allowed to come back home. I was happy, but also dreaded it. They expected me to have deepened my faith, which had not happened of course. So, what would I do?

I could hide it pretty well in the beginning. By the time I came home, I had to chose a (I don’t know what else to call it in English) educational path. I took languages. That meant a lot more studying. And my parents were content. I went to church on Sundays, but I couldn’t during the week. They saw me studying the whole time. Good thing, they never checked what I was studying because then they would’ve found herbology, crystals, deities and whatever else there beside my schoolwork. It actually took them 1,5 years to catch on. By then my father had become a real alcoholic. He not only mentally abused me, my sister and my mother but from time to time he would hit us. Well, me and my mum, because my sister was his little angle. In the beginning I was mad about that, but this meant she was safe. So there’s that. One evening I was out (I rejoined the choir when I came back home) and came home pretty late. I heard the yelling all across the street because they left the balcony door open. I dreaded going up to our apartment but I had to. When I entered I was bombarded with yelling. I didn’t even know why in the beginning. Both my parents just yelled at me and then my dad hit me. I tried getting to the room I shared with my sister. And when I looked in there I realized why they were mad. My dad found all my secret stashes. All of them. My pentacles, my papers, my books, my wand, … everything. Even now, 10 years later I can’t tell you what happened that night. I just … I didn’t know what would happen. I didn’t know…

Anyway. A few weeks later I was called to the youth officers office. When I entered I was greeted by a child service worker. She told me a neighbor reported my dads yelling and overheard all the threats coming my way. One day they wanted to come to check, but they heard him. So there was their proof. They offered me to come with them, to get away from him. I immediately accepted. I spent time till Christmas in a foster family, after that they put me into a foster home. Long story short. I couldn’t have any faith. At that point it was not mentally possible. It took me finishing high school and leaving the country to find myself again.

I left to go study in the Netherlands when I was 19. And I absolutely loved it. I was finally free.  It was then that I started to find my way back to witchcraft. Very slowly. But steady. There was no one telling me what to believe. It was fun to talk to my fellow students about everything and nothing, but faith never mattered.

I had to quit the study after a year, because of money issues and just moved across the border to Germany. Which was still at the other end of the country. Far away from my parents. I started working as an EMT (I already had the training from before I left Germany) and I was really happy being a witch, finally having a path that I loved and a job that wouldn’t clash with my believes.

About three months ago I had a crisis again. My parents came back into my life and I questioned a lot of life choices. I couldn’t remember why I became a witch in the first place. My life wasn’t so bad when I still believed in god, right? But I couldn’t and wouldn’t go back to church. I started taking bible studies with Jehovas Witnesses. And I liked it. I remembered a lot and their gatherings gave me what church never did: A sense of familiarity. Of belonging. But it didn’t take long for me to realize why I left church. It’s just not for me. A god that always wants you to follow his rules. If you don’t there’s not great life for you. And that’s not what I believe in. So last week I did some more meditation especially on that topic and I found my path. Myself. I had a beautiful encounter with a goddess who told me, whatever my path will be, it is the right one as long as I see myself in it. And that’s what I am doing now. Being myself. Caring about myself.

And this last week I have felt more like myself and more at peace, that I have … ever. Sometimes it’s hard to find your way and sometimes you have to leave your path to find the right one. But the only right one is the one where you can find yourself. Everything else is a lie.

________________________________________

So that’s it. That’s my story. I had to leave out some bits because I just couldn’t talk about them, even though I wanted to. I wanted to show how it doesn’t matter where you’re coming from or how many obstacles are in your way. If it is meant to be, then you will find your way through the world. Just be courageous. And don’t be mad if there’s a time when you can’t be.

This thing kinda stirred things up for me. And I really should work on them. But to all of you witches out there. Babies or not. Broom closeted or very open about your faith: If you ever need someone to talk to, write me. I always have an ear for everyone of you. I never had someone to talk to about any of this. So I want to give you the opportunity I never had.

I’d love if you shared this, show others they’re not alone out there. That there are others like you :D

So I wish all of you a great day and Blessed be :D

[veinereastath]

Maybe you can tell us a bit more about how Irina came to be😊 Influences on her character /style? Are certain things about her connected to stories? I'm personally interested in that badass throat tattoo 😍

Huh, this is going to be a long post, I’m afraid, but let’s go!

Well, I’m a sucker for characters that are battle-worn and hide their emotions to some extent and for some reason, so that’s the main tea.  Now, Irina is a bit of a mess considering the amount of different influences I used while creating her, but I always liked making my OC as much detailed as I could, though sometimes it may create something weird. As some people probably noticed, I added some ‘easter eggs’ in her backstory that clearly show my other fictional obsessions - her father being an “former SAS Captain” is an obvious reference to Captain Price from Call of Duty Modern Warfare trilogy, her grandfather (from mother’s side) being former Spetsnaz is a nod to my general fascination for military and special forces, her being partially Russian is because I really like Russia in terms of traditions and history and so on. And I love Russian names and surnames. Now, covering the Iceland part of her life - I love Scandinavian themes, especially vikings (I mostly blame the Vikings TV series for that, and Skyrim, a little bit). It took me a while to think about how I want to combine Far Cry 5 timeline, happening in 2018 with something that was going on over a thousand years ago, but eventually I did. So I’ve decided that after her mother’s death, few hours after troublesome childbirth, her father took Irina to where he used to live when he was young - to the northern part of Iceland, with barely any people living around, that chose to cut themselves off from the current world and live like their ancestors used to in the past. Maybe it is a bit stretched out, but well, I couldn’t help it. So thanks to those 17 years she lived there, Irina’s personality was created - she’s cold and mentally strong. And that little thing I added as well - she’s basically a heathen that still, to some small extent, believes in old norse gods. That’s a nod to my fascination for paganism in general. Now, I hope that no one will get me wrong, I simply consider christianity as a bit of a boring subject, and I simply don’t like the main idea behind it. Moving forward, we have the next five years of her life, which is about illegal street racing. After some time, her father decided to show Irina another place in the world that is important to him, and she follows. They move to Hereford in UK (once again, nod to CoD MW and 22nd SAS Regiment, because they actually have a base in this county), but her father dies after not even a year after. At this point, Irina is 18 years old but practically alone, with no one else around. She starts going to “the dark side”, coloquially speaking and becomes fascinated with cars, and quickly realizes that she simply has a knack for car driving, and uses it to her advantage - most illegal things are a good source of income, and street races are not an exception. She moves from one city to another and manages to get quite a good amount of money, but five years of this life start to bring problems with the law, so she uses her contacts and manages to get away from the country and moves to the US.  The whole “street racing” concept is also based on the fact that I love supercars, and used to play Need for Speed a lot when I was a kid. ... And then we all know how it goes, welcome Far Cry 5 timeline. :”) I could elaborate on that + New Dawn one as well, but I guess it’s a material for another post. And about the throat tattoo - this is the only one that she made not in Iceland, but while being in UK. Something to cheer herself up a bit after her father died - tattoos, cars, so on. It doesn’t have any bigger meaning, compared to many of those she has on her legs, arms and torso, because all of these are connected to norse paganism (runes, ravens, animal skulls etc.) I hope I managed to answer your question! xD And thank you for your interest ;w;

[keepingupwithfundies]

Pickle’s “Sam’s” Q&A

Take it with a huge grain of salt please!! We know nothing about the validity of that person. (Annie)

"Why do you believe Jana hasn’t been married off yet? When will her time come?”

I think she hasn’t been married because she hasn’t wanted to yet. To a degree, I think some of the kids have autonomy and choices as far as their spouses are concerned (more so the boys than the girls, but still). Jana’s always been super needed at home, and I think she might prioritize that over marriage (can you imagine the family without her?).

“Lets talk about Amy and her mom Deanna. Did Amy use the Duggar name? When did her folks get married? Are they still together? Is Deanna in the “cult”?? Does she go to whatever church JimBob is fronting??”

Amy wasn’t around a whole lot that I remember in the years I was attending the church. She did go by Duggar. I knew even less of Deanna, but while they’re Christians, they’re not the same brand as the Duggars and don’t follow all (if even many) of the same beliefs. Less conservative and all that. To my knowledge, at least back then, they didn’t attend the church unless they were visiting.

“Was all the strife between the Holts and Duggars about Josh? Did those in the church take sides? How much did the Duggars keep in contact with former church members? And lastly, were a lot of other church members believers in Gothard as well?”

I think it was partly about Josh, partly because Jim Holt and Jim Bob had a power struggle. The church did take sides, and families chose leaders. The Holts started having separate services at their home. The Duggars kept in semi-contact, and I think despite the rift they still attempted to maintain some kind of friendship. But it was never the same. Almost all, if not all, of the other church members were pretty staunch Gothardites, following his material and teachings and attending Gothard seminars, reading books by him and his people.

“Did you see any personality changes back then once the girls “learned” what happened to them and do they fully understand what happened or was it sugar coated?”

I was young at the time, and didn’t fully understand what was going on until later—couldn’t make sense of what I saw and heard at the time. I think it was heavily sugar coated, for sure, but the girls knew what was happening was at least violating. I remember seeing them sobbing for seemingly no reason, being upset around Josh, etc.

“How much parenting did Michelle do during that time? Did you ever see her break her voice/tone from her soft sweet stuff she shows the cameras? Were the boys ever expected to do things around the house?”

Let me put it this way: children in that church took care of the other children, even if they weren’t in the same family. If there was a baby who needed to eat and didn’t have a spare sibling, someone else’s older (female) child was expected to step in and help out. Changing diapers, feeding, general babysitting, the works. I never saw her break her tone…that was the way she talked all the time. The boys had general chores just like the boys, not that they ever got done. The bathrooms and kitchen and living areas were always disgusting.

“Is there a fundy underground, however small?”

Not that I know of. I’m only aware of myself and a small handful of others that have gotten out. In general, if you were born and raised in it, you kinda stick in it. It’s safer that way.

“I would like to know why no one has a job?”

Self employment was extremely encouraged, even expected. I’m not sure why? College educations, particularly for women, weren’t a good idea (my parents absolutely forbade it), so professional lines of work were sort of out-of-bounds. Plus, there’s all the temptations that come with the secular world.

“When someone (like yourself) leaves the cult for good is he/she allowed to visit their family?”

Depends on the family and who wants to be sympathetic and why they left and what sort of lifestyle the ex-cult member lives now. Oftentimes they’re considered a bad influence on the rest of the kids, so contact is limited or removed. I have no contact with anyone from my upbringing because I feel safer, but I highly doubt they would welcome me back now.

“Was Josh molested and he repeated the acts?”

I think it’s possible, but more likely he was probably exposed to pornography at a really young age by someone. I can think of a few people who could fall into a suspect category of abusers when he was young.

“Were the girls forced to forgive Josh and still spend time with him?”

I think they genuinely thought they were forgiving him and didn’t recognize (and also weren’t shown) the gravity of the situation. He was their brother, and they loved him. I think they lived in a lot of unexplained fear growing up. Like most of us did.

“Please describe how a ‘confession’ comes about.”

There were multiple meetings where they sent the children out of the house so they could discuss the situation with Josh. I think that’s likely where the confessing happened. I was a child, and therefore not privy to those discussions, but I overheard my parents and some of the other adults talking about it. Later, Josh was humiliated in front of the church; the adults already knew what he did, so they didn’t really rehash the specifics. He cried, several other people cried, his victims cried, and then there was a climactic moment when he was told he was going to have his head shaved or they would shave the head of one of his victim’s. Then he was told he was going to be sent away to work. It was horrible and scary and I hate thinking about it. Josh did terrible things, but at that moment he looked very broken.

“If girls were caught ‘breaking rules’ what was their punishment like?”

To be perfectly honest, I don’t really remember the Duggar girls ever breaking rules. I’m sure they did at some point, but they were “angelic” as far as behavior. I could speak for other members of the church, including my own family, but I don’t want to disclose that information at this time.

“Were the daughters seen as ‘damaged’ after the molestation scandal and did this impact their marriage chances within IBLP circles?”

No. No one ever talked about it, and the girls weren’t treated any differently after it broke.

“Were the older girls ever abusive to their younger siblings?”

Jessa was mean; I never liked Jessa, and wanted to steer clear of her. She scared me, and most of her younger siblings were scared of her. Jana could also be a bit stern and quick to punish, but then again all of them were supposed to be mothers to a whole host of children. That’s a huge burden to place on any adolescent or teenager.

“How did Sam get away from that lifestyle?”

By walking away and disappearing as best as I could. It’s still a struggle to recover from the abuse and spiritual mistreatment, and most days I wake up in disbelief that it ever happened.

“To what extent are children “betrothed/promised” to one another?”

It’s extremely common in those circles. Typically the father of a boy talks to the father of a girl and they work out an arrangement. A lot of times the boy does initiate some interest and discusses it with his dad first, but the girl rarely has a say and is pressured to accept her father’s choices.

“I’m wondering how the family was doing financially during those years.”

They were poor—until they built their big house. Then suddenly it changed. They could afford toilet paper now. But yeah, every Sunday when they held church, every family brought all the food they could so everyone could eat together, then leftovers were distributed. We all shopped at Goodwill and ALDI and pinched pennies. The poverty was real until the TV money started coming in, and then suddenly they were showing off a pantry like a grocery store to the rest of us and offering everyone extra food to take home that was donated by sponsored companies “before it spoiled” because there was so much of it.

“Can you describe what the home church services were like?”

We sang songs from hymnals they kept in the kitchen cabinets (so many hymnals!) that were accompanied by Jana playing on the piano. Classic hymns, never anything contemporary. Requests were shouted out by kids and adults alike. Sometimes there was a music special, but always there was one song in particular that all of the children would sing every Sunday morning. Then we had prayer time where requests were shared, and that was followed by watching a video seminar. I don’t remember ever taking Communion (I feel as if that was frowned upon, but can’t recall), but the service would be followed by a communal meal they called Fellowship.

“Are you aware of any sexual abuse of the boys in the church?”

I am, but not of the Duggar boys. It existed.

“I have heard that Jana ran away a couple of times, and she was rebellious.”

Absolutely not. Jana was (and still seems to be) one of if not the most loyal of the bunch.

“Did things get weird? People speaking in tongues? People with blankets to catch holy rollers as they fell backwards?”

Anything related to the gift of tongues, prophecy, or non-Baptist tradition was considered heretical. What got weird was punishing children in the middle of a service, women being constantly pregnant, husbands humiliating their wives and kids, and myself and other young people being preyed upon by elders.

“It has been suggested at times that the oldest daughter “belongs” to the father. Is that true in the IBLP?”

All of the daughters belong to the father. If you’re referring to Jana specifically, I wouldn’t say it’s just her. All of the daughters in their family and others were subject to their dad’s decisions. It was common to make vows to fathers as teens to stay pure and obey him always (similar to wedding vows) sometimes with a purity ring. I don’t think the Duggars quite did that tradition, but my family and many others did. My father gave his daughters a ring after a “proposal” where he asked them to remain virgins until he gave them away. Usually around 13. Creepy stuff.

“Was Anna’s family really made aware of Josh’s past?”

Yes. And no, that didn’t matter. He’d been “forgiven” by God and his family, so of course he wouldn’t sin again…especially if he had himself a wife to play with instead of children.

“How old was Jana when her parents made that arrangement/when it was canceled?”

I think around 2008.

“What does Sam think of the Jana/Laura rumors?”

Pretty ridiculous to me. Jana and Laura aren’t having a secret fling, in my opinion. LGBT+ members did come out of that church (including myself) but that would be far too obvious for them to carry it on.

“Why doesn’t Jana just leave?”

I don’t think she wants to. I think she’s semi-happy there, at least, to the extent of her knowledge of happiness. It’s her world. Leaving—coming from someone who did it—is absolutely terrifying.

“Are any of them secret atheists?”

The church was so fear-based about the afterlife being determined by present choices that I found myself as a child asking Jesus to save me every single Sunday. I still have a hard time even being an agnostic because of what was beaten into me. So I doubt it. It’s hard to disbelieve when the stakes are set so high.

“Did Josh’s abuse of his sisters continue when they moved into the big house?”

I think it mostly became a porn issue at that point. But it's possible. I think it was still an issue even then.

“Have you ever seen an example of an unwed woman getting pregnant?”

No, but my parents suspected one of the members in my family of getting pregnant (quite irrationally) and hell broke loose at the suspicion. It likely wouldn’t have gone over well and probably would have ended with that person being turned away (much like Anna’s sister).

“What was John David like?”

He was a shy, awkward, friendly-enough strange kid. Likable by everyone, obedient, humble, hard-working. I think he’s a good person, if misguided by his upbringing.

“Are you pursuing a formal, structured education or a trade? Will you raise your children differently than you were raised? Are you still a member of the same “church fellowship” as the Duggars?”

I am not pursuing further education at this time, though I have plans to. I’m supporting myself in a successful career and doing pretty well independently. I will raise my children VERY differently, without religion as a factor. I am not a member of the same church, I am not in the same area, and I have no plans to return to Christianity, at least staunchly, or in that branch. It is toxic and abusive. It is vile to me.

“How are the kids with the protruding stomachs now?”

I looked them up the other day. I think their family moved away, and it seems like their kids aren’t as involved in the cult anymore. They seem to be doing well. I’m happy for them.

“Did Sam ever go to ALERT or one of the family conferences?”

No, I didn’t. My family didn’t travel much.

“Were you able to have genuine friendships with the Duggar children in that environment or was there still a lot of isolation and privacy?”

I did have genuine friendships with the Duggar children; I even developed feelings for one of them as a young teenager that I thought were reciprocated (and may have been, we weren’t allowed to talk about that). We didn’t discuss the abuse because we didn’t consider anything abusive. We looked up to our parents (and feared them).

“Did Sam ever meet someone from the cult who cooked without using cans?”

Nope. We were all raised on cans. And speaking of cooking — Jim Bob’s BBQ tuna, or whatever that nasty stuff is, is absolutely disgusting. I’ve tried it. Hash brown casserole is gross too. It’s all gross. Ugh. I love eating real food now.

[seduceme-lovestruck-thearcana]

The Secrets Chapter 4

“Till Death do We Part”

It’s long again sorry

I open my eyes to the sun shining through the windows. It was so hot. I wonder if I could go to the lake with Grace today? I knew I had to get up for breakfast soon. So, I got up and got dressed into my blue dress. It was a thin dress, like a nightgown, and I wore it everywhere. My dad bought it for me and I never wore anything else. I would only wear something else if my dress got ruined. Which was rare since I took very good care of it. I hear a loud knock at my door. “Sissy!!” I smile and run to the door. I open it and see my little sister, Grace, bouncing up and down. She jumps up and hugs me. “Good morning!” I laughed and hug her just as hard. “Good morning!” We let go and head back downstairs. I see my mom cooking breakfast and my dad is still sleeping in the living room. The normal morning. I was now 21 and my sister was 16. I felt like a grownup but I still had my childness in me. “How did you sleep last night, Sarah?” My mom asked me as I sat down at the table. “Normal,” I answered. I’ve never been a good sleeper. Normal for me was around 4 hours.

She smiled and nodded. “Are you going to see the wolves today?” I felt excitement bloom into my chest at that. “Of course! I have to feed them and pet them,” I told her. Grace looked at me and was excited. “Can I see them?” My smile dropped a bit. “I’m not sure. It takes them awhile to get used to new people,” I warned her. Her smile dropped. “But I’ll still take you. They can warm up to you.” Graces smile returned and she seemed to jump up and down in her seat. My mom came over to the table and sat down. “Are you going to see Christian too?” I smiled and blushed. “Yes, Momma,” I answered shyly. She laughed along with my dad.

After I was done eating, me and Grace walked to the woods behind our house. “Look!” I looked down and could see the prints of my favorite wolves. It was theirs because they were usually the only wolves around here. I looked around and saw them leading up to their regular spot. We walked for a few more minutes and saw my two favorite wolves laying down. Their grey, dark fur seemed to move from the wind. I walk slowly over to them. They noticed me before I could even close. Annie was the one to pick up her head first. She opened her yellow eyes and looked at me. She immediately got up and ran over to me. She jumped up on me and started licking my face. “Ah! Stop Annie!” She stopped and sat back down and looked at Grace, as if just noticing her. “Extend your hand, Grace,” I instructed her. She did as I said, and Annie sniffed her hand cautiously. I leaned down to Annie’s level and rubbed her ears. “You can trust her,” I whispered to her.

Annie licked her hand and sat down in front of Grace. “It means she respects you,” I told Grace. Grace seemed to smile and light up like a light at this. I soon heard more footsteps and realized Damien was now awake and looking at us. His yellow eyes, unlike Annie’s, seemed to squint at Grace, unsure about her. Annie looked at him and let out a little bark. Damien seemed still cautious but listened to that bark and sat right beside her. Grace smiled and I winked at both of them.

“Sarah!” I heard my mother voice call out to me. “Someone’s here to see you~” I sighed and turned toward Annie and Damien. I squated down to their level and put one hand on their heads. “I’ll be back, okay?” I saw Annie’s ears go down and Damien’s eyes seem to soften and get sad. I groaned. “Don’t look at me like that,” I whispered. I heard Grace laugh at me. I rolled my eyes and kissed Annie and Damien’s heads. “Bye guys!”

Grace and I soon walked up to the porch and saw a boy sitting there. A very familiar boy. “Christian?” Christian looked up at me and smiled. “Hey!” I stood there confused. He usually never came this early. Even when we were kids he would never be this early. “It’s like not even noon,” I told him. “Did you not want me here?” He seemed to deflate at my reaction. My eyes got wide and I walked over to him. I sat beside him on the chairs on the porch. “Of course not! I just wasn’t expecting you,” I said.

The thing about Christian is that he is my boyfriend. I’ve loved him ever since we were children. He was the only boy that didn’t look at me and my family as “weird” or “crazy”. He just looked at me as a normal person. And that’s what made me fall for him. I told him when I was 19. It was the best day of my life. “Sarah,” I heard him whisper to me. I looked at him and made a hum noise. “I love you,” he told me. I smiled at him and reached for his hand. “I love you, too.”

*3 years later*

“I like the dress,” my mother said to me, as I stood in front of the mirror. It was my wedding day. I was getting married to Christian and I was so happy. I didn’t want to go too extra, so I just wore a simple white dress. Like my blue one, but white. It was comfortable and I couldn’t wait to see Christian. He had proposed to me a few months ago and I said yes immediately. My father was a bit grouchy about me being married, but he gave him his blessing. My mother and my sister were so happy. I has my hair done in a little braid and a rose in my hair. The flowers I chose to hold while I walked were roses too. I’ve loved roses for as long as I can remember.

“Come on! You’re gonna be late to your own wedding,” my sister yelled at me as she basically dragged me. I struggled to stay a foot but I was running along too.

We soon got to the lake where the wedding was held at. People were all sitting but as soon as they saw me, they all stood and looked at me. I saw Christian at the end and he blushed and looked very happy. He had his usual toothy smile. I smiled and blushed as I took a step. I could hear some people say, “congrats,” and, “she looks so beautiful.” This made me blush and get very anxious. What if I messed up?

No.

I pushed those thoughts away and continued walking towards my soon-to-be husband. I reached him and whispered, “hey handsome.” He blushed and my dad cleared his throat. He was the one who was going to be making this official. He told us our vows and we both promised to each other. We both had our rings on and my world felt...brighter. We both smiled at each other and I heard everyone else clap for us. We locked arms and walked down the row of people. We had food, drinks, and many “congratulations” said to us. I felt a twinge of sadness in my heart. My grandma couldnt make it. She died from a wound, but she’s here. I know she is. I then thought of someone else I needed to see before the day was over.

I walked to the woods and walked for about 5 minutes. I made a little whistle sound between my teeth to call for Annie and Damien. That’s always been my whistle for them to, hopefully, hear. I waited a minute or two, but then I heard the ruffle of leaves and heard the sound of running paws. They both jumped in front of me and barked happily. I laughed and rubbed both of their heads. “Hey guys, I missed y’all!” I didn’t get to see them for about a week because I had wedding planning. However, I still missed them dearly. “Guess what? I finally got married!” I said as I showed them my hand with the ring on it happily. They both howled with joy and their tails began to wag very fast like. I laughed and sat down on my knees. I didn’t want to get the dress dirty. Annie laid down in a ball like form and so did Damien right beside me. I leaned back onto Annie’s back and relaxed. I used to do this when I was young. I would cuddle up with one of them and just relax. They are always so warm, fluffy, and I knew I was safe. My eyes closed and I fell asleep so the sound of them breathing and the sounds of nature.

*4 months later*

Christian and Sarah had moved into a new house. They both would go outside and watch the sunset and would just be happy. But...it all changed one night. Sarah was at the counter washing dishes. Her and Christian had just finished dinner and she was getting ready for bed. The sun was setting and she couldn’t help but get distracted sometimes. She decided to hurry up and clean so she could go outside and watch the sun set. She soon did finish and dried her hands off. “Christian! Want to go see the sunset?” She hollored out to him, but he never answered. Sarah wasn’t going to waste time and walked outside.

She stood on the hill that wasn’t too far from their house and just watched. She loved all the orange, red, and pink colors that were going on in the sky. It made her happy and feel at peace. She remembered when her sister and her would watch the sunset. It was a happy memory. She felt a bit sad because Christian wasn’t there, but she still loved these moments; with anyone or just by herself. Soon, the sky had turn dark and night had taken over the day. She smiled and walked back to the house. “Christian! I’m back!” She said as she walked back into the house. She locked the door and headed up the stairs. She got into the bedroom and saw him asleep on the bed. She smiled and laughed quietly. She walked to the dresser and started getting her pajamas on. Her pajamas were now her blue dress. She would actually try to change her clothes and wear more than her blue dress. She took of her shirt and she suddenly felt hands wrap around her waist. “Christian, I’m almost done getting dressed,” she said while laughing. He laughed as well and left soft kisses on her neck. “No not today,” she said while pushing him off of her. “I’m tired and not staying up like you made me do last time,” she said. He laughed and winked at her. “But wasn’t that so much fun?” She laughed and shook her head.

She finished getting dressed and started taking off her necklace. It was a wedding gift that her sister got her. It was a line filled with pearls. She took it off and turned around, ready to go to bed. However, Christian wasn’t there. She sighed and walked down the stairs. She yelled his name and he answered. “Kitchen!” She walked to the kitchen and saw him hunched over the counter. “What’s wrong?” She said as she walked over to him and hugged him from behind. She saw a knife in front of him when she looked over his shoulder. She thought she put everything up... He seemed to flinch a bit when she touched him. He turned around and just stared at her. “Greed is an awful thing, isn’t it?” He said this with a creepy smile. She raised an eyebrow. “Well, yeah,” she said with a little chuckle. He didn’t know they were angels just yet. She was going to tell him after the wedding, but forgot too. “It possesses our mind and makes us do horrible things,” he said to her while holding her shoulder. She looked at his hands and his hands gripped tighter on her shoulder. She grabbed his arm and tried to move his hands to no avail. “What’s going on?” She said with a bit of panic in her voice. He removed one hand and reached for the knife. “Greed makes us do regrettable things, right, sweetie?” He pulled the knife out from behind him and swung at her. She pushed him off of her and he fell to the floor. She started panting and panicking. She turned around to run, but he was a step ahead of her. He came up behind her and stabbed her. He pushed her to the ground.

She started coughing up blood and he bent down and tilted her chin up. “Greed makes us do things like this,” he said with a frown. She started struggling to breathe and it started to hurt. “Why?” She tried to lean up but failed and ended up coughing more. “Well, someone promised me a bunch of money. He promised me that I could live like a king forever. He said that I could get out of this dump. I wanted that,” he said. “He just said I had to get you out of the picture,” he said while twirling the knife around in his hand. “You see, I-” before he could continue, they both heard a knock on the door. “Sissy! It’s me. I just came to drop something off!” Sarah gasped and tried to lean up once again. Christian scolded at the door that separated Grace from her dying sister. He grabbed her roughly causing her to scream from the pain. “Tell anyone it was me, and I’ll get him to kill your family.” He dropped her and ran out the back door. “Sissy? Are you okay?”

Sarah started to crawl towards the door while holding her wound. She put pressure on it to try and stop it, but it still ached like hell. She reached the door and unlocked the door. She then fell down to the ground and her body couldn’t move anymore. Grace walked in and noticed her on the floor. Horror, shock, anger, sadness, all came on her face but then disappeared. She dropped down to her level and put pressure on her stab wound. “Sarah! Who did this to you? Tell me!” Sarah stared up into Graces eyes and saw concern and panic in the way she was shaking. Christians words echoed in her head. She couldn’t tell them. She wouldn’t. “Grace, I don’t wanna die. I wanted a family with him,” she said as she held her hand, tightly. Grace shushed her.

“You won’t, I promise.” Grace put Sarah’s arm around her neck and tried to carry her. At the slightest movement, Sarah screamed. Grace wasn’t strong enough and fell down, taking Sarah with her. “I’m sorry, Grace,” Sarah said. Grace propped Sarah up on her knees and held her cheek. “I have to go get mom and dad,” she told her. Sarah smiled and shook her head. “It’ll be too late. But, I’m happy I’m not dying alone,” she said with a small laugh. She didn’t realize it, but tears started going down her cheeks. Grace chuckled at that too. “I would never leave you alone. Why can’t you use your powers?” “I’m too weak. Plus, I don’t really get my powers, yet,” she said with coughs in between. Neither of them have their powers yet. “But hey, I may get my powers. I’m dying so,” she said. Grace grabbed her hand and started crying. “Don’t leave me alone.” Sarah laughed at that.

“There’s no place where you could go where I would not be there with you.” Grace watched in horror as her sisters eyes slowly lose their shine, her body slowly stopped moving, and felt the life slip from her hands. Grace cried while she laid her forehead on her sisters head, not knowing a figure lurks outside. “‘Till death do we part’,” said a voice. It let out a little laugh that sounded gruff. “That wedding was sweet but he did stay by his vow. Such a shame it had to be he that did the parting, and under terrible circumstances,” he said with a laugh.

“Sarah, your time is up in this world.”

[lacrossepapi]

Salt, Sun, and Scales

Ao3: Link 

This is for @missleeismyname! 

Peter’s favorite time of day was twilight. The main reason for this preference was currently swimming towards him with a big goofy grin on his face.

“Stinky Petey!” Called the boy as he stretched and shook out his legs as if they hadn’t been used in a long time.

“I’m not stinky!” Peter snapped without heat.

“You’re stinky to me! You smell like sweat and something weird and only on you land walkers.” Stiles chuckled as he placed a shell on the tallest rock on the beach, just like he did every evening.

“You always call me a land walker, but aren’t you walking on land right now? How does that even make sense Stiles? Everybody walks on land.” Peter huffed, knowing where this argument headed.

“Why do you question me? Am I not knowledgeable?” He asked with a tilt of his head, stepping closer to Peter, “Am I not witty?” Another step. “Am I not beautiful?”

Stiles winked and kissed Peter’s nose like he did every time Peter saw him.

“You are all those things Stiles, but you are also silly and nonsensical. Sometimes I think I have stumbled upon a faerie.” Peter breathed, the reverence in his voice wrapping around them both.

Stiles’ laugh always reminded Peter of a barking sea lion, which should annoy Peter, but had quickly grown endearing.

“Do you think me one of the fae?”, Another bout of barking laughter, “You silly boy. Best not mention them again lest they hear and curse you for such slander.”

Peter scrunched up his face at the warning. Everyone knew the fae were just heresy the blasphemers used to scare good Christian children. They weren’t real.

“They don’t-”

“Hush now darling. Have the land walkers rotted your brain so much you have forgotten all sense?”

Peter really liked when Stiles called him darling. Stiles looked only a couple of years older than him yet spoke as if he’d been alive a lot longer, which should make Peter annoyed but had also grown to be endearing.

-

Peter’s youth passed in warm nights on the shore with his ethereal boy. As Peter matured Stiles seemed to stay the same, the “boy” always hushing Peter when he asked what kept Stiles young.

The Sea Wolves had taken Peter on the eve of his fifteenth birthday, coming for him under the burning midday sun, scared of nothing save the creatures that roamed the moonlit waters and the fearsome pirate, whose name, The Fearsome Fang, was only whispered for fear of summoning the demon himself.

Now when Peter looked back on those hazy dream-like nights he couldn’t remember if they were even real, or if they were just a boyhood fantasy.

Peter was to be their land errand boy, but soon they realized his skills and knowledge surpassed that of the usual port town boys they had taken. Yes, Peter had grown up speaking multiple languages and had learned how to treat the people of other nations from an early age, but Peter also had knowledge of the much more dangerous and rare things that one could come across out on the unforgiving ocean.

Peter knew the ways of the Fae, the language of the mermaids, the warding incantations to keep them safe, how to spot siren lairs, and much more. He had never questioned Stiles’ need to educate him in the ways of creatures he knew didn’t exist and now he was indebted to that strange boy for the knowledge he gifted Peter.

Of course Peter’s own cunning nature also helped him thrive with the Sea Wolves. Before the winds could bring in the new chill Peter had already shed his “slave name” and was an initiated member of The Sea Wolves known across the mystical realms as Sly Pete The Charming.

Sly Pete was a beautiful man, with sun tanned skin and ocean bright eyes. The mischief in his smile promised a wild night on the waves or in the sheets, humans and creatures both fell under his thrall as the man blossomed into a devious marauder.

Many, many leagues away a boy perpetually on the cusp of manhood waits every night for the boy with bright eyes and a quick wit. And every night his human does not come to greet him on that far away shore he sings a mourning song for nights lost to the treacherous days of adulthood.

-

By the time Stiles figured out who Sly Pete was the boy, who was then a man, was already a corpse.

“Genevieve, please come back!” Stiles heard the shouts, but was too deep in his own overwhelming grief to care that a human was upset.

“No! He was my youngest son! The only of your flock that truly was mine! And now he’s gone!” The woman was screaming, her anger and grief tearing across her words leaving her hoarse.

“He’s been gone for years now Gen.” The man sounded so defeated, the sound echoing  against the chasm in Stiles’ heart.

He could no longer pretend they did the grieve the same boy, the same man. He turned away from the large rock jutting out of the rocky beach that was covered in shells, to face the humans and was greeted by two tear swollen faces, one angry, one resigned.

“Why do you still wait? Why didn't you ever look for him!” Stiles hadn't realized she was talking to him until she took a  furious step toward him, “You've power indeed, yet you chose to sit here each night singing your dirges and reminding us of our losses! You could've saved my boy!”

The human woman Genevieve was in front of him quickly an accusing finger pointed directly at him.

“I did not realize he'd been taken. I thought he simply chose to explore the world.” An ashamed sigh “I could not fault him for his wanderlust of the land, but I could not follow him there. So I waited.” Stiles had thought for years that Peter abandoned him to be a typical human and make his own way in the world, he'd never thought for a second he could keep his human boy.

“You foolish immortal!” The woman hissed before dropping to her knees in front of him and sobbing, “He loved you. He loved the home he had here with us. His family and his companion. And now he is gone.”

Shiny silver tears pooled beneath Stiles amber eyes. He'd truly been a fool. He could have saved this fierce and loving woman the grief that now threatened to weaken her. He could have saved himself from the grief that wrapped around him like dark murky seaweed in the depths of the waters he had once found welcoming.

“Son, I know not what you are but I do know that you are kind. Is there any way you can find his body and give him a proper burial for us?” Stiles had been so enraptured by the scene of Peter's mother unraveling in front of him he hadn't even noticed the man approach.

Stiles could not stay in this port town, on this shore he'd called home for many years, it was splashed with memories of his precious boy, memories of happiness long passed. Finding the, now, man's body would be almost impossible, but Stiles need not succeed in his endeavor, even trying would bring peace to this family he could not protect.

“I cannot promise such a feat but I will venture out into the unknown to rectify the wrongs done to your family.” Stiles’ normally honey eyes shone the color of the sunset sun as a single opalescent tear rolled down his pale freckled cheek.

The man nodded solemnly and gathered his wife into his arms before gently guiding her back the way they'd came.

Someone had to pay for pain that ravaged his heart and the hearts of the humans under his protection.

Stiles walked into the dark moonlit water grief in his heart and vengeance in his eyes.

-

If one was to inquire, they might be told The Fearsome Fang danced and drank the nights away with strangers of every race, orientation, and even species. If they were then to actually witness his revelry they would see him leaving seedy establishments each night with a different partner. Although all of this was true, he did revel and leave with a different person each night, it was not the whole truth, for The Fearsome Fang used the farce of nightly passion to hide his actual deeds.

If one was to track the pirate, they might be surprised to find a clear trail across port towns of found missing boys, large sums of money left on orphanage and school house doors, and a single shell left on the tallest rock in the bay.

The Fearsome Fang had such a reputation for being an absolute scourge that not a single human around could see the pattern. A scourge he truly was though, despite his good deeds, he’d always had been a cunning little devil.

The bar quieted as  he entered, boots heavy and eyes flashing, but he flashed a sharp devious grin and the music started up again as if it’d never paused. The patrons knew by the second night that if Fang flashed that smile, they were safe in his presence and would be much richer soon, so they too quickly resumed their raucous chatter.

“You lose again Fang!” a drunken farmer jeered taking the last of the pirate’s money.

The larger man’s blue eyes turned cold, “Yes, yes I did. Now take your winnings and get out of my sight before I take my gold back.”

The drunk man swallowed before nodding shakily and scooping the money into his pockets.

“Dread Pirate Drake! Two-Face Timothy! Escort this drunk home and make sure my money doesn’t get stolen off his corpse on the way there.” The pirate captain commanded without looking up from his new hand to see if his men had obeyed, he knew they would.

To anyone listening it would seem like this fearsome, merciless pirate had just told his men to kill the drunk and take his gold back, but Stiles only smirked under his hooded cloak because he knew that was not the actual order. That man would arrive safe with more gold that he had actually deserved to win. Stiles had seen the pirate captain's winning hand, three rounds while the pirate had conceded his gold, he had also heard the father lamenting his poor crop harvest and his trouble finding men to take his three daughters with such a small dowry for each.

It seemed The Fearsome Fang had a heart of gold, the heart of a young boy taken from his home without a choice. Stiles grinned with undiluted delight.

“You are not subtle on your feet.” the words stalled Stiles’ next step causing him to stumble out into the dim street lamp.

He looked up as The Fearsome Fang started laughing at his clumsiness, and was met with warm blue eyes and smile lines indicative of a happy man.

“Are you to slay me where I stand?” a cough, “Kneel, I should say.” Stiles’ pale skin turned the faintest shade of pink from embarrassment.

“Ah, you still speak as if you’re from an older, more sophisticated world.” Fang chuckled with fondness as he strode toward Stiles’ collapsed form.

“You should know well the world I hail from. You travesered the vast seas without me. You know of my realm now.” Stiles tried to keep the hurt from his voice, but it was hard not to mourn the adventures they could have had together.

“Tut-tut darling.” Peter chided, “Why do you scorn me? Am I not knowledgeable?”

Peter tilted his head, his wild mane swaying over, and stepped closer, “Am I not witty?”

“Am I not beautiful?” With his final question he crouched before Stiles and kissed his nose.

Silver streamed down Stiles’ face, shining in the dim light of the moon, “Oh how I have missed you my darling boy.”

Peter smiled sadly at Stiles before helping the male to his feet.

“Boy, I am no longer, my heart.” He took a step back, keeping his arm on Stiles’ waist, so that he could look at Stiles’ form, “Though you look as if it has been but a smattering of years not the long decade that I have felt in my soul each night I did not see you.”

“Yes, I age slow like the dance of kelp on the ocean floor.” Peter’s snort cut off Stiles’ next sentence.

“What pompousness! You silly immortal, just speak like a normal person.” Peter demanded with a humored huff.

“I am not a normal person so I shall speak as I damned well please, Fang.” Stiles snapped, stepping out of, no longer Peter but now, Fang's embrace.

He did not understand how Peter came to be the new Fearsome Fang, and he was rapidly growing tired of the mind games with this stranger.

“I was sent to give your body a proper burial. Your mother blamed me for your demise. What am I to tell her now that you have assumed this title and this life?” Stiles’ eyes flashed bright once in frustration.

He’d found his human, and yet he could not keep him.

Peter grasped Stiles’ hands earnestly as he pleaded, “Tell her nothing. Come with me, my heart.”

Stiles was stunned. His kind were not followers, but they were also not known for nightly strolls along beaches, Stiles was already an outsider in his realm, he could bear their scorn for following his heart.

-

The Fearsome Fang, a name known for spreading terror among the seas, had gained a new legend to his mythic story. A legend that spoke of an ocean spirit who protected his vessels and enacted wrathful assaults on all who dared oppose him. Fang’s own men had seen the elusive beast, and yet endeavored never to look too closely at the shimmer of light against the waves that stayed just a breath behind their ship.

Double-Crossed Christopher was Fang’s quartermaster and therefore the unfortunate soul incharge of approaching the captain about the men’s fears. The season had passed with unparalleled success and yet the crew did not rejoice, they lived in fear of the creature that protected them. Sea creatures were as fickle as the sea they lived in, it might protect them now, but what would happen when the sea turned rough? Chris did not want to find out, and neither did the large group of ship hands that approached him for answers.

“You think our Llyr blessed savior is going to mutiny.” It was not a question.

“Aye.”

“Christopher I thought you a smarter man. You’ve been listening to those swabs we call a crew haven’t you?” Fang gave him a fond smirk.

“Aye.”  Chris had always been a man of few words, but more so when speaking to his captain about official business.

“And if I gave you my word he wouldn’t?”

The question caught him off guard, spurring him to speak, “The men are scared sir.”

“Aye.” Fang’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he used Chris’s own sparsely worded responses against him.

-

Despite Double-Crossed Christopher’s attempts at calming the crew, Stiles still found himself in hot water.

Literally.

“What in Llyr’s name is going on in me own vessel!” The Fearsome Fang barked as he entered the loud underbelly of the ship.

“We caught us a mermaid!”

“A merman, ya scabby-sea bass!”

“A merman as pretty as a lass, Cap’n!”

Peter’s heart rate skyrocketed as dread settled upon his shoulders like a shroud. He shoved his men roughly to the side until finally the awful sight in the middle of the men revealed itself.

Stiles was sitting calmly in the middle of a large cauldron as the stew around him boiled. Peter would have frozen in terror if his love hadn’t been glaring directly at him.

“Smother those flames!” The Fearsome Fang’s voice silenced the men around him instantly, and spurred Double-Crossed Christopher into action.

The flames were quickly put out under The Fearsome Fang’s glare.

“Cap’n.” Christopher said with a nod.

“Listen here ye bilge rats, you are not to touch this creature. Ever.” Fang commanded.

“Aye.” The men replied.

“I’m not gonna ask what scallywag thought eating a creature as beautiful as this was fine idea, but know this men, I am not pleased.” Fang chastised with a stern look

“What should we do with it, captain?” a quiet voice inquired from behind him.

“We let him go!” Peter’s voice thundered out, the vibrations in the wooden boards around them brought a wicked smile to Stiles’ face.

The men grumbled a discontented “Aye, cap’n” before slowly moving out of the space.

“Will I be dancing with Jack Ketch by the night’s end captain?” Christopher was serious and solemn, even while asking if he’d be killed.

The question startled a laugh out of Stiles. He had not seen such sophistication and loyalty in a landwalker other than his boy. Unfortunately Christopher had not seen a mermaid or merman make any sound even similar to that of a human in his thirty-two long years.

“Oh Llyr, the expression on this landwalker’s face shall humor me for many nights!” Stiles laughed out.

Indeed, Double-Crossed Christopher, who was known for always looking angry, was staring open mouthed at the naked boy where once a mermaid had been.

“You may call me Stiles, human. The honor that binds your bones is strong, you are a male of your word and I find your demeanor while facing death comedic.” Stiles said with a sharp toothed smile.

“I know not what ye be.” Christopher breathed out as he sank to one knee and bowed his head.

Stiles’ seal like laugh echoed off the once boiling cauldron, “Ah, reverence. Christopher, I shall now consider you a friend of the sea. Rise. Fang would do well to follow your example.”, a snort from Fang followed by a dejected sigh from Stiles was all Chris heard before Stiles continued, “Alas he shall never mend his ways.”

-

“Aye ya slimy bastards! Hear ye!” The Fearsome Fang ordered, his men falling silent as he approached.

“It be time for change. I’ve got things to do, places to see, and people to screw.”

A hearty cheer rose up at the lewd comment.

“Meet your new boss!” Sly Pete said with a flourish.

The Fearsome Fang stepped out of the captain’s quarters with his head high and shoulders squared. This was when he’d be sized up and deemed worthy.

“Any objections?” Sly Pete asked with genuine curiosity, sometimes no one challenged which was quite dull.

“I object!” Slippery Scott stepped forward, a mischievous grin on his crooked jaw.

The Fearsome Fang’s answering grin was sharp yet grateful.

“As the old captain I’ll watch. When you’re ready lads.” Sly Pete said with a nod, stepping back to give the men space.

Slippery Scott, though young, was a fast and dirty fighter, and Peter genuinely enjoyed watching the clash between Scott's style and Christopher's.

Christopher's style would change the longer he was The Fearsome Fang, but at the moment it was still the professional sophisticated style of an old knight.

Peter had never asked about Christopher's past because it truly did not matter to the pirate, but over the years Peter had gleaned his origins. The older man's manners and personality spoke of a rich, perhaps even royal, upbringing surrounded by rules and corruption. Christopher would not step off the ship in some ports which spoke to where he came from.

The two opposing styles clashed in a chaotic but beautiful way that left Peter grinning and the crew calling for blood.

Scott's quick movements began to slow eventually, giving resilient Christopher the in he needed to knock the boy down.

“The challenger is defeated. Two cheers for The Fearsome Fang's first victory!” Sly Pete announced with a wicked smirk.

“Huzzah!”

-

That night Stiles listened through the door of Peter’s room as the entire ship celebrated their new captain. He had been around longer than pirates had roamed the seven seas and he would be around long after they were gone, and yet he was shockingly moved by the traditions that bloomed on these ships. No other pirate in the world could claim the legacy the original Fearsome Fang could. His has been whispered around fires for more than seventy years, though the man himself had been dead forty. Pirates, peasants, and royalty alike feared the immortal, though only very few knew he was not one man but a long line of men taking up his name and his ship. Peter would never be able to tell his family whom he’d become, but he could tell them he’d worked for the legend, which would earn him enough notoriety to protect his family and their homes from wayward thieves.

Peter had left a boy and would return a provider and a man.

Stiles dreaded facing Genevieve again, he had never met such a ferocious human, but he did not dread reuniting Peter with his mother. Not many boys taken by pirates lived past their first month, much less prosper.

“Sly Peter ya nasty bugger come back ‘ere!” The use of Peter first pirate name jared Stiles back into the moment and sent him currying across the room to lie nonchalantly on the bed. He quickly grabbed a book to read before Peter entered.

“That sounded like a merry time.” Stiles offered sarcastically in greeting.

“Yes, it was.” Peter answered before a filthy grin slid onto his face and he said, “That book is upside down.”  

“Damn you Peter Hale. May the waters never envelop you in warmth, but in icy chill instead.” Stiles hissed, embarrassed Peter had caught him.

Peter’s chuckle sent a wave of warmth over Stiles causing him to flush a pretty pale rose color.

“Easy darling. I have returned because I yearned for your company, but if you are to curse me all night I shall return to the rats outside.” Peter’s blue eyes brightened as he approached the bed, and Stiles cursed his superior senses for drowning him in the smell of Peter’s hormones.  He was done for the second his pirate had felt a sensual thought.

“Damn you.” Stiles mumbled one last time before Peter’s whiskey lips devoured him.

“I’d rather damn us both sweet boy.” Peter’s voice was low as he worked down Stiles’ throat sucking pink and green marks into the male’s skin, though they disappeared shortly after.

“Despite it being a curse on my life, I do enjoy that mouth of yours my heart.” Stiles gasped in ecstasy.

“The only cursed thing in this bed is your healing. One day I will mark your perfect skin and you will bare my claiming to both our worlds.” Peter’s voice rumbled as he spoke his promise, before biting Stiles’ pelvic bone harshly.

-

Genevieve was still as fearsome as she had been on that sorrow trodden beach years ago. Stiles would never mention it, but he’d smelled the tears on Peter’s face as he gripped that fierce woman as tight as her frail body would allow. The years had not been kind to his family, his father could no longer stand by himself and his mother was only barely able to herself. His elder sister had moved inland and sired three children and currently carried the fourth. Her boy Derek looked like Peter more than he did his own father, and her youngest Cora had Peter’s sharp tongue and mischievous nature.

Stiles made sure Peter visited all of his family members as often as possible, even if it meant leaving him at the shore line. He had not gotten to say goodbye to his mortal mother, and his father had wasted away shortly after his mate had died.  

The small shack they lived in was quaint and warm. It was everything Stiles had ever dreamed of having all those long years he mourned his human. He found himself nesting more and more each night, their home soon covered in beautiful shells of all shapes, sizes, and shades. Every morning Peter rose with him to return to the sea. Stiles would swim while Peter read to him or spun wild tales of his life as a pirate, some that Stiles simply could not believe were true.

“Peter! Those waters are full of sirens! How ever did you get passed them?” Stiles gasped, his tail slowing in the water beneath him.

“I knew what to expect my love. You kept me safe, even if you were not beside me I carried you with me. It was your warning of gray teeth like rocks and the shores behind them that kept me from getting too close.” Peter soothed Stiles’ frown lines away with his thumb as he smiled warmly at him.

“I didn’t finish my lessons with you. I should have spoke faster, and less about shells! What a bubble headed fool I was.” Stiles sighed.

Peter kissed him soft and slow.

“It matters not. I am here. You found me my heart. You brought me home. And now we have eternity.” Peter smiled again before kissing his forehead softly.

They did not have eternity, Stiles knew, but what they did have was now and now would be good enough for Stiles.

[danielxrk]

✞* prayers (one) ╯

he lingers in the church pew, long since bidding farewell to his grandmother and jinsoul, thankful to go to their church weekly now instead of his mother’s stifling one-- to be surrounded by love instead of restrictions and guilt and shame. he is still unlearning all of it, still processing forgiveness and the fact that there’s so little to hold against himself-- that there is a difference between repentance and self-hatred, and that jesus died for reconciliation, not only his mistakes-- that he isn’t crucifying him again every time he goes against him.

and yet even here, he thinks of his mother, his life touched by her in every aspect, even when he’s no longer living with her-- even when she told him to move out in order to live the life he chose. church is always stained by her, and he can’t even bear to think the word tainted. even now, his life revolves around pleasing her.

but he’s not here for any of that, people cleared out, daniel sitting alone in the sanctuary. his life is a flurry-- school, work, an album, and he flits between all of that and a couch in empty enigma’s apartment, or a couch in jinsoul’s apartment, and there is rarely a moment to rest. this is the only chance he’s gotten in so long to really catch his breath, and it’s here that his thoughts catch up to him. even keeping himself busy, sometimes they still do. he anticipated it; it’s why he’s here.

there’s really only one person that can help him now, and it’s divine intervention. he knows, so he clasps his hands together and ducks his head, and he prays. 

( warning: christianity, homophobia )

hi, god. can i say that? do i address you as...our father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name? i don’t really know how to start this. we both know i haven’t prayed out of anything but obligation in a long time. maybe i never have. i think i’m supposed to start with confession, so i’ll start with that. sorry for not coming to you more, and for maybe never really knowing you at all. i want that to change. i realize i do actually need you. my life is a mess, and i don’t want to go forward in any of this without you.

i’m sorry for lying so much, too. i used to think that i was such a good liar because you wanted me to lie. it’s stupid, right? i’ve been keeping so many secrets for so long, it feels weird to finally be free of that now. i don’t have to lie to people anymore, but now i have to deal with the fact that i lied. i know jesus died for my sins, and i’m still figuring out what that really means, but i know he didn’t die to free me of consequences. you’re going to make sure i learn my lesson, and i think...that’s what i deserve. thank you, that i don’t have to lie anymore. i don’t really know who i am without that, but if i was lying the whole time, i don’t think i ever did. please help me figure it out.

even now that i’m not living with my mom, it still feels like my life revolves around pleasing her and hiding what won’t please her, or maybe i realize how much that used to be the case. i don’t really know what to do without it now. i’ve never been so far from her. i miss her, even though i think i could see her at any time, but it might be better if i don’t. i thought moving out was better for me, and that it didn’t hurt, but i think it caught up to me, and it does. i always associated religion with my mom, and i kind of felt suffocated by it, but i don’t think that ever had anything to do with you. she and you are different, but it took me a long time to realize that. i think i’m still realizing it. i’m sorry for worrying more about pleasing her than you. i want to do better at that now.

i know you don’t hate me now, but you might hate the fact that i like boys. i still feel like i can’t admit it, like i want to take it back, but you already know everything, so i might as well be honest about this, and if i’m honest, i do like boys. now i’m worried what everyone will think of it, but i don’t think that really matters. what matters is what you think about it, and i don’t know the answer to that. it would be easier if you just make this go away. if i pray enough, will you? isn’t that how it’s supposed to work? if it’s wrong, and i resist temptation, you’ll deliver us from evil, right? so maybe eventually i’ll get over this and go back to being a dumb ass that likes 5 different girls at once. sorry for swearing.

it doesn’t feel like i’m going to get over it. maybe i could get over kissing ricky, and write that off as a mistake, and wash my hands of it. i could move on and ignore it, but then there’s sungwoon, and i can’t do that with him. i don’t know what it’s supposed to mean that within two months of each other i kiss a boy and one of the most important boys in my life confesses to me. it feels like some kind of sign, but i don’t know what. i want it to be a sign that things are going to be okay. i want it to be you telling me it’s okay. 

it doesn’t feel okay. sungwoon told me it was okay too. i keep hearing it on repeat in my head, but it’s never enough. i keep wanting to hear it so i can believe it. maybe on some level, things are okay. we’re still friends. the band is still moving forward, it’s not as uncomfortable as it could’ve been by far, but it doesn’t really feel okay. maybe it’s just me? i don’t feel okay. that’s a big reason i need your help.  

i don’t know what my feelings are doing. that’s the main reason why i’m here today, because i can’t sort it out myself. i need guidance. i need to know what to do. my instinct is just to do nothing, but i don’t know if that’s right or not. i feel more pressure to be open about my feelings, but i still don’t know what they are. joohyun got into trc, and i don’t know what i’m going to do without her. i’ll still see her, but it won’t be like it was. i’m happy for her, but i’m sad for me. i think i’ve loved her for so long that i don’t know what to do without that, either. everything that’s happened in the past three months has really put my feelings into perspective, or i thought it did. it at least made me think about what’s really important, and still, there’s joohyun.

i feel like i should tell her about my feelings before it’s too late. at the same time, i don’t want to burden her when she’s going through such a significant change right now. i think ricky will be back from sn project soon, too, and i think i should just leave them be. it’s never really been about me and ricky, it’s always been about joohyun and ricky and daniel and joohyun. 

i told sungwoon i couldn’t explain how i feel, but that one day i would tell him. i want to tell him as soon as i know, but i don’t yet. there’s joohyun, but sungwoon is always in the back of my head, and i don’t know what that means. maybe i do, and i’m just scared of what that means. fear is a sin too, right? i’ll just wrack them up. i’ll hold it against me even if you don’t. 

i just wish you would tell me what to do. i don’t know if i can have it both ways, or if i have to make a choice. i don’t want to make any choices that could ruin anything, and i feel that potential. joohyun seems like the easy option. i could just pretend sungwoon never confessed to me, and keep being friends with him, and avoid all of this conflict, and be sure i’d be in your good graces, too. then why does it feel so hard?

maybe it’s because i know sungwoon loves me. there’s something safe about that, too. i don’t know if anyone has ever honestly, really loved me before. i never believed anyone else as much as i believed him. i don’t even know if sujeong really loved me, even if i loved her. it feels good, just knowing. maybe it’s just because i know sungwoon loves me, and that’s all, and i don’t have feelings for him at all. 

it doesn’t feel like that, though. i still don’t know what it feels like yet. i still don’t know if i want to know. i’m scared of it, but i think i need to know. when i really let myself think about it, i think i like him. i can’t say i’m in love with him, but it feels different than my other friends, and maybe that counts for something. i wouldn’t have known if he didn’t confess to me though, and that makes it feel less...genuine. i want to know i mean anything i tell him, so i just...can’t tell him anything yet.

i just don’t know what to do. can you just make my feelings disappear based on whatever you want? if me liking boys is wrong, will you make it go away? i want it to go away. no, maybe not; i just want it to be okay. please tell me it’s okay somehow.

i think i feel better saying-- or praying --it all out. thanks for listening, and how people keep saying you’re so much bigger and better than we even know. i know even less than they do, but i hope i can find out more of who you are. let’s do this more often.

please help haknyeon on sn project, too. i honestly don’t know whether i want him to debut or not because i’ll miss him so much if he does, and i think it would be fun to train with him if i ever become a trainee. but i want him to be happy. please just do whatever’s best for him. you know that way better than me. please do that for everyone on the show, and for all of us, i think.

i think that’s all. i pray all of this...in jesus’s name? amen.

he lifts his head with no idea how much time has passed, but not really concerned. the church is still empty, aside from a lone custodian sweeping, and no one has kicked him out yet, so that’s what matters. when he does, maybe he feels one step closer to okay.

[triple-tr0uble]

Her Pretty Eyes

My little sister has always had pretty eyes.

I remember seeing them at the moment of her birth. Her eyes popped brighter than ours did. I asked Dad why and he said it was because of a genetic mutation. They were so pretty and still are until now. They were a very bright color between green and blue. They went well with her mop of black hair. It made her look like a cat.

She was shy but she seemed to be genuinely happy being around me. Her eyes freaked out a lot of the other kids so she was always stuck with me. So most of our childhood consisted of us spending time together. She didn’t say it a lot but I’m sure that she was happy with being my sister.

But when I turned 14, I was taken away from those pretty eyes of hers. Our parents were never on good terms, and so they separated and Dad took me with him. I left my sister in Miami, while I was taken to Los Angeles. It wouldn’t be easy for me to visit her when she lived on the other side of the country. Plus, our parents by then held grudges against one another.  I don’t know what Mom was like when it came to taking care of her. Up until the fights with Dad, she was a pretty sweet woman. I was sure that my sister would be fine. Plus, with me gone, she might be able to push herself to meet new people. I was hopeful about that.

Through the years we were apart, we still kept in touch but it seemed to me that Bianca was growing distant. She didn’t reply that often as she used to when we were younger. I figured that school was eating up most of her time, oh - how I wish that was the case. I didn’t know what was going on with my little sister. The most she’s told me was that she liked studying and reading and that she still didn’t find any friends in school. I couldn’t help but feel guilty, knowing well that I could be there to keep her company.

My wish was answered - but not in the way I hoped it’d be. It was in the early months of 2010 when Dad was murdered. I could still remember the sickening smell of our apartment. I only got back from school when I found him hunched over in his desk, his room was littered with petals and leaves. It was almost like someone brought a forest into our home. I remember turning him over to find that almost everything there was about Dad was replaced with flowers and petals. His skin was made a shell for the flora. I remember crying and vomiting on the floor, along with the pitiful gazes the police gave me after they investigated our home. I hate that I still remember it.

But that’s not why I’m writing this.

I went back to live with my Mom and Bianca. While I’d normally be happy to know that I’ll be able to see my sister again, nothing could rid of my gloom.

And it was going to get even worse.

Ever since Dad and I left, Mom has apparently turned to alcohol, cigarettes, and other vices. She was never home to watch over my sister, she never tended to anything that she needed, she didn’t even cook or clean the house. She was only there to pay bills and make sure that the authorities don’t think that she’s neglecting her child.

What did that leave my poor sister?

Bianca was always quiet, but now she barely even spoke. She had to suffer through our mother’s wrath whenever she was high or drunk. She had no friends to talk to and drowned herself in homework, books and the like. She spent so much time doing who knows what on her study desk that there were days she’d skip meals to do those hobbies. She’s grown paler and scrawnier from when I last saw her. It broke my heart to see that she shut herself in her room and chose to spend her free time alone.

Things weren’t any better in school either.

She was a smart kid, very observant and took good note of anything she saw and practically engraved that into her head. Her grades were exceptional and she did especially well in Math and Computer. Though that didn’t make her popular at all. Of course, her freakishly pigmented eyes made her stand out, but to other students, there was nothing that appealing about her. She wasn’t cheery and upbeat enough to attract people, nor did she do anything weird or odd for anyone to pick on her. To put it simply, she was just there.

Though the isolation didn’t seem to bother her at all. She was a bystander, someone who was just there to witness anything that happened. She learned to adapt and stay out of the picture.

Maybe it was for the best though. Our school, Santa Rosa Christian School,  wasn’t the nicest of places. It wasn’t nice getting involved with anything and I learned that the hard way. At this time I was in my senior year when I somehow crossed a rather large clique. It would be your typical high school cliche where I was being accused of dating the popular girl’s boyfriend.  I knew better and chose not to mind it. I was in my senior year, after all, I didn’t want to end my school life with something bad on my record.

That was until she cornered me and hit me. The blooming bruise on my cheek would be enough of a reminder to not cross her. I’m sure if the bell hadn’t rung earlier, I’d have more than an aching cheek to worry about. She stomped away to catch up to her next class. I just wanted to get my bruise looked at in the clinic.

I stormed my way out of the locker room.

It was her pretty eyes.

Bianca had been standing outside of the locker room when I walked out. She didn’t even seem embarrassed or panicked when she saw me. She gave me a knowing nod and spoke her first words in what nearly felt like forever.

“She hit you because she was scared. “

I sighed. How long has she been standing there exactly? It must’ve been a good 10 minutes when the girl’s ridicule started. Though that wasn’t my priority. I had a bruise to attend to.

And so I assured her that I’d be reporting what happened, and she only nodded in response. I turned to head to the nurse’s office. However, every time I glanced back, she’d still be standing in the very same spot, eyes glued on the back of my head.

Those pretty eyes were making me nervous.

Perhaps she was just worried. I decided to pay it no mind and get my bruise done and report what happened to a teacher.

Since that incident, Bianca has been coming home later than usual, and she stayed up late too. Though, it seemed that she wasn’t even going off to hang out with anyone. No one at school seemed to know if she was doing anything. I tried to talk to her about it but she shook her head.

It was only after a week that I got my answer.

The girl that had hit me was dead. She was killed by her boyfriend by what the cops believed to be a fight between the couple. According to the boyfriend, she had been cheating on him and when he came to confront her about it, the two ended up fighting instead. The two were fighting at the school’s rooftop when it happened and he ended up pushing her off the edge. She was dead and authorities were investigating on whether or not it was an accident.

Though what irked me was that he was aggressive towards Bianca. He screamed at her and blamed her for her death.  ‘You knew, you knew, ‘ was something that echoed in everyone’s head as he burst with rage. However, the more this went on the more agitated and aggressive the boyfriend became. He’d go into fits and sometimes burst into tears. And the subject of blame would always be Bianca. Though the counselors only found out that she knew of the affair but did nothing more.

At times he’d cry upon seeing her, in other cases, he’d get violent. Not just at Bianca but anything or anyone that agitated him.

A month later he had committed suicide.

Was he right?

I’d go and confront her about my fears but she’d shrug it off. It seemed that she didn’t do anything either.

But that guy wasn’t the only one. Weeks after that, more and more of our schoolmates would be found dead, having committed suicide or having murdered a fellow schoolmate. And the center of their blame was always Bianca. People would come into fits of rage and scream at her and others. Others would cry and beg her to stop.

Some would claim her to be some kind of demon that wouldn’t get out of their head, that their ears would ring because of her very presence. That they just didn’t feel right. Others would claim that they swore they felt her following them but none of those allegations were proven true. Try as the police might investigate her, they’d realize that she didn’t do anything to hurt anyone. She just simply knew and that’s all there was to it. Even with cameras all around the school, none pointed towards her even coming into contact with anyone.

It was in 2011 that our school shut down after the body count had hit 53, and it was then that she told me.

“I knew everything about everyone. “

It was something even an idiot could realize. Though how she knew it and what made those people die was something that terrified me.

She liked watching, but to what extent?

Anyone being watched would feel paranoid, especially if they knew that the person was seeing something that you didn’t want others to see.

It was because she knew.

They lost it because she knew.

She was watching,

With those pretty eyes of hers.

[ayman-eckford]

This is my very old post. I’m not a Muslim now, and I don’t identity myself as “lesbian” because I realized that I am a non-binary person. But everything else in this post is true. And I want to re-publish it without any changes.

________

[CN: Homophobia; Islamophobia; Ableism]

My name is Аyman. I am Autistic; I am a Muslim, and a lesbian. While I am Russian by birth, I do not belong to Russian culture. I don’t understand it although many people suggest that it is my culture. My perception of culture is reflected in little things; in that sort of stuff that seems irrelevant at the first sight, but it very clearly defines me as a “foreigner.”

My differences are almost invisible from the outside. People are not aware of my sexual orientation. I do not look like the stereotypical “butch” or “femme” lesbians that people expect me to be, or the “masculine women” that people of my mother’s generation imagine when they hear the word “lesbian”.

I was born into a conservative Russian Orthodox family. I suffered from serious psychological problems because of religion, and initially I was afraid even to think about leaving Christianity. Transitioning to Islam has influenced my worldview more than the way I look, dress or speak.

But I do not look like what people expect a typical Muslim to look like. I have light brown hair, light skin, and I speak with no accent. I do not act like a typical Muslim woman as the majority of people think she would. I listen to metal rock music. I talk a lot about politics and about human rights, and I wear European clothes most of the time.

My national identity is fairly American. I chose it myself, but at the same time, I didn’t.

I have never understood my family’s culture. Looking at my parents and other adults, I did not copy the norms of behaviour. If I didn’t understand the goals of such behaviour, then those norms were alien to me. You have probably witnessed little kittens imitating their mother’s behaviour or children copying their parents. Like many Autistic children, I have a badly developed mechanism of imitation.

The idea that people who I share my apartment with (even if they are my parents) should define the way I think seems like a meaningless abstraction – almost magic – to me.

That’s not the only example.

I didn’t notice the peculiarities of post-Soviet culture. At that time, I did not know why. However, the reason was that I did not recognise nonverbal signals and shades of meaning in other people’s talk. I could not “read” the culture of people who surrounded me. That was why I could not understand it.

I read books because they were easy to grasp. I watched movies. I researched information on the topics that interested me, and I formed my own culture based on what I could understand and what interested me. This culture originated from the culture of all humanity – from all the facts that I knew and which I could understand based on my knowledge. That culture had something that was missing in the Orthodox post-Soviet culture of my family, and my family considered that culture as wrong. It was something that we did not discuss at home; something that I learned from books and that I came up with on my own. I did not choose my culture, like you did not choose yours. It formed by itself. However, some elements of that culture were the result of deliberate choice.

Later, I started to realise that my culture is strangely similar to American culture. I can easily understand characteristics of American culture in books and in films, even those that seemed strange to the majority of my friends. It is easier for me to communicate with Americans rather than Russians. That is how I acquired some sort of a national identity.

I also have another identity that, perhaps, influenced everything else in my life. It is autism, which defines me almost entirely. I cannot separate my personal characteristics from autism, because it influences everything. It affects the way I communicate with people and how I perceive communication. Being autistic influences my attitude towards my interests and the effects that sounds and colours produce in me. It defines what helps me to relax and guides what interests me. That’s why the idea of “curing autism” seems brutal to me. If you take autism from me, what would be left of me? When I am told that autistic people would be happier without autism, I hear that they would have been happier if we didn’t exist.

Most often, I have heard this from people who know almost nothing about autism. These people base their judgments on what they think it means to be Autistic without even knowing how autism looks like. They often don’t even know why there are five times less girls diagnosed with autism than that of boys. We are rarely diagnosed because all of the first books about autism were based on observations of the control groups which included mostly boys, and in most cases autism in boys manifests itself differently than that of the majority of girls. My autism follows the “female pattern”, like in many Autistic girls. And it means that – again – I find myself invisible.

If you belong to several minorities, you cannot avoid wrong assumptions. Especially, if you are not a typical representative of these minorities.

Homosexuality was unthinkable in our family. My father called it “sodomy”. When the United States legalised same-sex marriage, he predicted a great economic crisis which would eventually destroy the U.S. economy. He spoke of Greece and Rome, which had “fallen because of gays”.

This conversation took place a few months before I finally accepted my homosexuality. I was afraid to talk about it to my parents. After coming out, I was afraid to go home. I did not know what consequences to expect. I was ready to end the relationship with my parents. However, everything went much more smoothly than I thought because it seemed as though my father didn’t take me seriously.

I should have expected this because I have faced similar situations all my life. Denial is one of the most common types of wrong assumptions. This was the first kind of wrong assumptions that I faced because it permeated my entire life with my family.

Looking at me, my parents saw a completely different child – the child who they wanted to see in front of them. They saw a Russian Orthodox girl – which I never was. More specifically, I was Orthodox for many years, but even though I was Russian by birth, I was never Russian in a cultural sense of this word. My parents, of course, did not notice. They talked about all sorts of things that were supposed to be clear and dear to me because I am “Russian”. I explained in vain that those things were alien to me, and that I understood different views and traditions better. They ignored my explanations.

They also ignored my autism. At school they told teachers that I was “an unusual child,” but at home they blamed me for everything. They scolded me for problems with communication that made me a target for bullying and made me want to die. When I did not do things on time, they accused me of having problems with planning. Because of that, I started to experience panic attacks. They did not believe that I could not hear their voices when there was noise around. I walked strangely. I did not look into their eyes, and I ran back and forth across the room in order to calm myself down. They explained that away as signs of my “immorality”. They often said that I was a weird kid, but they could not explain me what was wrong with me. I demanded accurate explanations, but I was never able to get them.

I received these explanations when I received my autism diagnosis. In the beginning, my parents also refused to believe that I am Autistic. It took for them several years and many articles read by my mother in order to accept it.

My parents could not support me because of their wrong assumptions about me. All these years, their misconceptions hurt me the most.

I often encountered them in my life. Usually people need a few minutes to conclude about my sexual orientation, neurotype, religion and cultural background based on my appearance. Most of the time their conclusions are wrong.

Like my parents, other people do not want to recognize their mistakes, even if I clearly point them out.

“You are too normal to be Autistic. Why do you invent all those diseases?”

They ask, even when I have already told them that I do not consider autism a disease. Usually I hear that from people who have never read the diagnostic criteria.

“You do not look like a lesbian”

They say, meaning that I am not “masculine” enough.

People who say that do not understand that a person’s gender expression does not define their sexual orientation.

“Of course, you belong to Soviet culture! We all belong to Soviet culture, because we have absorbed it, even from our cartoons. There are so many implicit “Soviet” themes and substance there!”

When people tell me that, they forget that as a child I didn’t know how to recognize those themes or substance.

For some reason, people think that they know who I am – better than I do. Wrong assumptions emerge because people do not want to listen.

Sometimes people deny my experience out of their best intentions.

Once a doctor told my mother that he had noticed “Autistic signs” in me (as in the USSR Asperger syndrome was often referred to), but he did not tell that to my face, so that I would not feel “abnormal”.

One of my close relatives tried to “comfort” me saying that I was still “able to understand my culture”. In addition, a stranger in the street advised me to “return to Russian roots”.

Many of my LGBT friends were advised to see a therapist in order to become “normal”. Some people are convinced that LGBT people suffer from their sexual orientation and gender identity. Even if LGBT people themselves told the opposite.

Some of my LGBT friends think that I would have felt better if I stopped believing in God.

Wrong assumptions arise because people think I would feel better if I become someone else. They arise from the fact that people think I suffer from being myself.

Some people in the LGBT community call Islam “the religion of the devil”. One of my LGBT friends told me this right to my face, not knowing that I was going to convert to Islam.

I have heard homophobic jokes from my former friends, and I heard their calls for “jailing all faggots”.

They did not even suspect that a lesbian was among them.

I have heard and read that people without disabilities are calling to take us all to “one large island and leave” us there because “nobody wants them, except for their parents”. I have heard and read that all Autistic people are considered to be unable to think, unable to feel, or unable to make their own decisions.

People who wrote and said it did not think that an Autistic might hear or read their words. Looking at me, they would never have thought that I was Autistic.

This is one of the main dangers of hate speech. People who would never say such a thing to the face of those whom they “do not like” say it unaware of who is present around them.

Perhaps that is why I feel an alien almost everywhere.

And perhaps that’s why so many people tend to hate – for them, people whom they hate are actually aliens. Not aliens from science fiction stories, but aliens from computer games that can only spoil everything, and whom they should kill. They do not think that we can be their friends, colleagues or comrades in activism.

Wrong assumptions arise because people think that they can learn everything from a person’s appearance. They arise because people start to hate those of whom they know nothing about.

You can read END of this post here, in my friend’s blog.