#or hey why can’t women be priests? explain that catholics

[unproduciblesmackdown]

speaking of how anger can be as necessary as any other feeling, can be an appropriate and healthy emotional response, and can be entirely positive, and yet some people will say that anger is always wrong / to be avoided

i shouldve bookmarked it because of course i forget where i found it or who posted it, but yesterday on twitter someone had started a thread talking about how they for years tried to suppress their own anger and avoid conflict whenever they could because they had it pushed on them so strongly from a religious (christian) angle that anger was just like straight up a sin. and then they were asking about other people’s experiences with considering a broad emotional area being off-limits or inexpressible because other ppl were telling them it wasn’t an option. / having an emotional reaction of theirs just being ignored or condemned because frustration or whatever is a sign of not being good enough in whatever way

anyways it reminded me abt the whole christian approach to never expressing anger in the whole misinterpreted “turn the other cheek” thing....its kind of wild the way really christian concepts and ideas can be embedded in these nonreligious aspects of society, and considered to be a “common sense” type of perspective rather than a christian-informed one, and often involves societal/historical factors that altered US christianity which turned around to contribute right back into social/historical spheres...

like, how some kind of puritan-adjacent Moral Living agenda thought up by some dude back in the day and obsessed with asceticism & lack of self-indulgent comforts & definitely-no-masturbation as part of a Health Initiative that was sort of like this US-wheat centric cult. and today we have the breakfast cereal aisle largely in thanks to this one guy and his take on religion

or how the concept of Hard Work has been taken on by industrialized capitalism (especially post-wwii and its never-since-dropped Moral Necessity of time-efficiency above all else) to justify poverty (they deserve it) and worker exploitation (they also deserve it or they’re just lazy and thus deserve even worse poverty) and racism (they deserve it! or should just Hard Work their way out of it!) and sexism (women are paid less because they dont do men’s Hard Work! stay at home moms dont do real Hard Work! working moms arent Working Hard enough if their family work cuts back on the time and attention and energy they can give their paid job) and classism (if you cant Work Hard enough to escape poverty then you deserve the poverty) and ableism (if you cant do the same Hard Work of any other abled person then why are you alive tbh :/) and racist & anti muslim anti immigration (uhhh they both Work Too Hard and keep white people from getting in their Hard Work and also don’t don’t Work Hard Enough & steal from white people’s Hard Work) and you see how it goes........everything

and this whole concept comes from the protestant values of early colonizers......they believed very much in the necessity of the religious value of labor and suffering and self-denial and sort of grim survival and all. harken back to the wheat-worshipping cold-baths don’t-spank-it Cereal Dude.

and then there’s how US christianity was deliberately altered to not only accommodate the idea of a morally acceptable institution of chattel slavery, but to also actually promote it as morally necessary. it censored bible readings of pro-abolitionist passages & censored anyone who would preach against slavery. i think the whole still-existent branch of “southern baptist” churches was created post-abolition as a white refusal to drop the pro-slavery religious stance? and then there’s the ways that white christianity still had to justify segregation to itself, and all the other forms and practices of racism, up to today, and which i should be aware of more concrete examples of how this manifested historically. but like it sure does like continue man

anyways tldr protestant values and perspectives are often conflated with universal/“common sense” ones or outright pushed as core/necessary “american” values, and that’s an important factor to take into consideration when thinking about like, anything, because it’s so far reaching in influence that it’s probably a part of anything you look far enough into. like, again, the cereal guy. no wheaties if not for puritans. would we have chex mix in a universe where the vvitch couldnt be made because what are pilgrims? you crucify one guy and suddenly cheerios are possible because of one weirdo two millenia down the line.

anyways. there’s a lot of factors stemming from christianity that can go beyond technical religious beliefs/practices. seeing as i just complained about how anyone imposing a requirement to completely suppress any feeling or expression of anger is at best, unhealthy, and at worst, unhealthy AND abusive, it seems relevant to take into account people invoking arguments (especially to kids or anyone else over whom they have authority) about anger being an actual Sin. jesus was getting p.o’d all the time, not only about that classic temple shit but also when people interrupted his nap or when he was denied snackage. and that “turn the other cheek” bit was about NOT letting people hit/exploit you. theres no argument for needing to not express anger in order to be properly christian. and the suppression of necessary, justified anger can be used to sustain and support a ton of fucked up and violent and unethical practices then and now so fuck that in all its forms tbh

[switchbrainedholylime]

A little more Renga for @emmettspeakz

Sitting next to Reki in English class was beyond awkward. Any kind of harmless small-talk Langa tried to bring in was shot down like a submarine missile. The worst part was that Langa barely knew any of his other classmates, so there was no one to turn to at school. 

Their teacher, an American woman named Ms. Boyer, was stood in the front of the class, “Kyan Reki!”

Silence. The American woman walked closer. “Read pages 23-27 of The Chronicles of Narnia.” 

“Oh, sure,” And with one mutter, Kyan Reki had just made Narnia out of to be the most boring place ever. He stood up, nearly tripping over the legs of his chair. He mumbled through the reading and then sat back down. 

“Langa Hasegawa, pick up where he left off.” 

“Right,” Langa looked down at the pages. “Edward followed Lucy into the wardrobe. He thought he was better than his siblings.” 

Langa continued to read the portion assigned out to his class and then sat back down. He looked over at Reki, “Hey, you did a great job.” 

“Hm,” Reki looked away. 

----------

After everyone was shuffling to go home, Ms. Boyer halted Langa from skating down the hallway. Her arms crossed. “Be real with me, what’s going on with you and Reki?” 

“Is it really that obvious?” 

“Yes. Now are you gonna tell me or not? Because I might know a person who could help you.” 

“Really,” Langa blinked. “Sure, what’s their name?” 

“They’re a middle school teacher. Follow me,” 

“A middle school teacher?” Langa asked. What could they know about me?  

------

In the staff room, Langa spotted a bound book with his name on the spine sitting on his English teacher’s desk. Curious, the Canadian picked it up and began to flip through casually until he came to a startling conclusion; it was a book about every detail of his life up to that point. 

It started off with his upbringing in Canada as as snowboarder and move back to Okinawa with his mother after his father’s death. It described him meeting Reki, working at the shop. It described his race with Shadow, Miya and ADAM to the T. It was the most in-depth analysis of it he’d seen. 

“Hasegawa, right?” A gruff voice interrupted. “My name’s Mr. Tsuchigomori. I see you’ve found your book.” 

“Y-Yeah, where did you even GET this?” 

“I run the 4pm library. One of the 7 mysteries of the old school building. I’ve only seen the description of those books change once in a hundred years; and it wasn’t pleasant.” 

“They tell the future, too?” Langa flipped through towards the back. He hadn’t seen much left to go after his challenge with ADAM. He turned to the last page that read: “DIES CUTTING HEAD ON ROCK WHILE RACING WITH ADAM”. 

Langa almost dropped the book on the floor. He was going to race with Adam in a week’s time. He was going to die in it? 

“I’d make up with that Reki kid while you still have time.” Mr. Tsuchigomori blew into his cigar. “You can try to prolong your life, but again, this book never really changes that often from what it originally predicts.” 

“But I’m terrible at smalltalk. Is there anyone you think could help me?” 

“Well, there is one person, and he also happens to be the only one who’s ever changed his fate. If anyone can help you, it’s him.” Mr. Tsuchigomori turned back to Langa. “Since you don’t have much time left, you’ll probably be able to see him, too.” 

“’Him’?” Langa asked. 

------

 Langa went into the old building that served as its middle school section. The blue-haired skater looked back and forth to make sure no one was looking. 

“Alright the coast is clear,” Langa bit his tongue and bolted into the girls’ bathroom. He was met with a green-tipped girl who was mopping the floor and a floating boy in an antique uniform. Was that from the 50s? 60s? Why was there a boy in the girls’ bathroom? 

Then again, I’M a boy in a girls’ bathroom. I shouldn’t judge. Langa breathed deeply. “Are you Yugi Amane, the one Mr. Tsugomori spoke of?” 

“Yep! I go by Hanako, now though...,” 

“I have one week left to prevent my death. I’d like your help to, uh...not do that.” Langa stated. 

“Wow, that’s a huge hurdle you’ve just thrown on me! I don’t know your name here, buddy! You didn’t even knock on my door or anything.” Hanako laughed. 

“I’m serious. The man I’m going up against has touched more underaged boys than a Catholic priest.” Langa sighed. “My name’s Langa Hasegawa.” 

“Well, if you say so I’ll have to oblige. Let’s see what I have,” Hanako reached into his pockets. “I mean, I’ve killed before, but right now I’m working on repenting for my sins.”  

Langa’s eyes widened. “Okay...,” 

-----

Hanako began following the blue-haired skater around the school, and it didn’t take Langa too long to piece together that no one else could see him. He chalked it up to him being a ghost.

“So this is your boyfriend?” Hanako poked Reki who was still ignoring Langa. “He’s a cutie!” 

“Hanako, leave him alone. Reki didn’t ask for you to touch his hair like that.” Langa ordered him. Reki then looked over at Langa in confusion.

“What’s going on with you?” Reki asked. “Did you hit your head?” 

“I tried the Hanako ritual all the girls talk about. Y’know, knock three times on the third stall in the bathroom, summon the ghost of Hanako, get three wishes.” 

“You went into the women’s bathroom, you perv,” Reki pouted.  

“He started following me--he’s right behind you!” Langa pointed at Hanako who was making a funny face behind Reki, sticking his tongue out. “No one else seems to see him!” 

“You’re really freaking me out here, bro.” Reki looked at him. “You gettin’ enough sleep here?” 

“I promise I’m not making this up.” Langa insisted. “Look behind you!” 

“I don’t see anyone.” Reki peered over his shoulder. 

“Dude, is that Canadian kid alright?” One of their classmates gossiped. 

“Maybe he bumped his head?” Another classmate whispered.

Langa hid his face as Hanako floated around him and began to play with his hair, pulling it into a ponytail. “There we go!” 

------

Bringing Hanako to S was...surreal. A schoolboy in a 1960s uniform floating around the abandoned factory.

“I think I remember when this place was active. I knew some classmates whose parents worked here!” Hanako looked around at the shell of a factory. “So whadda do ‘ere?” 

“We skate, but I’ve got to come up with a good excuse not to go up against ADAM.” Langa held his skateboard. 

“Hey, SNOW!” Miya and Shadow came up towards Langa as he was talking with Hanako. They were utterly confused. 

“You can’t see him, either?” Langa pointed at Hanako. 

“Ah, no. You’re talking to air.” Miya chuckled.

“Look, I got a ghost from school attached to me.” Langa explained. “He followed me here. His name’s Hanako. Hanako, the 7th of the 7 Wonders of my school.” 

“A ghost?” Joe blinked. 

“How foolish a fantasy.” Cherry scoffed.

“Do yah think SNOW got his head bashed in?” SHADOW asked. 

“Look, I have to come up with a good excuse never to skate against ADAM ever, because I read a book that has my entire life in it, including the future...and I die this Saturday night.” Langa pulled out a copy of his book from the 4pm library. 

“Whoa...this goes way back,” Miya flipped through the pages. His eyes widened as he got to the end with the skate with ADAM that would result in Langa’s death along with the dismantlement of S. “What...?’  

The sound of a familiar skateboard rolled past. Its rider was a hoodie-wearing Reki with a sullen-looking face. 

“Reki!” Langa put his hand on Reki’s shoulder. He looked up. “I’m not going to skate ADAM. I’ll stay home Saturday night to avoid him. Please, I miss you. This ghost is not substitute for your cheerful smile in my life! Please!” 

Reki’s eyes lightened. “So you won’t skate with ADAM?” 

“No, I promise.” Langa embraced his boyfriend in a long, close hug. “I’m sorry for being so selfish. I won’t take your love for granted anymore.” 

“Same. You’re my best bro, SNOW.” 

“You can call me Langa.” 

-------

That Saturday, Langa and Reki sat at home and watched some hilariously bad movies on Netflix. They ate popcorn and Hanako made the duo some plain, good ol’ fashioned homemade donuts. 

“So you wanna watch 50 Shades of Grey next or The Room?” Reki sat in Langa’s lap with a donut in his mouth as his boyfriend flipped through Netflix. 

“I wonder if ADAM’s noticed we stood him up yet.” Langa grabbed another donut. “Oh well,” 

“Man what I wouldn’t give to see that idiot’s face.” Reki laughed.

“Hey I got some candy from the Mokke, want some?” Hanako offered. 

“You mean those pink bunnies that pull pranks?” Langa took one of the candies and popped it in his mouth. “That’s good.” 

“I know I probably shouldn’t mention this, but I have a twin named Tsukasa and he asked if he could be let out of the school just to see what this ‘ADAM’ guy is like.” Hanako mentioned. 

“What’s your twin like?” Langa asked. 

“He’s...um, psychotic.” Hanako replied. 

------

Langa and Hanako slept over at Reki’s house. 

The following morning, they woke up and the newspapers read: Diet Member Ainosuke Shindo found stabbed to death in abandoned factory. Suspect still unnamed and unidentified. If you have any information, please contact the Okinawa Police Department. 

“Yeah, I figured that’d happen with Tsukasa.” Hanako shrugged. 

“So ADAM just got stabbed by a ghost.” Langa asked. 

“Well, I think my job here is done.” Hanako yawned.      

[byorder-fanfic]

Love Thyself, Then Thy Neighbour

Summary: Linda Montgomery is tired of living for everyone but herself. It may not be holy, but it is hers.

Word count: 1957

Warnings: Swearing, LOTS of talk about religion and Church, war, hospital and blood mentioned

Author’s Note: I really hate the misogyny in the way Linda was written and I think that sometimes the fandom demonises her as a bitch for her religious beliefs, so I wanted to try and make her a bit more sympathetic. Hope you like it xx

One thing that being brought up in a strict Catholic home is that Linda leant not all rules were written in the big book. The most important rule was that women didn't work. Her mother would huff and puff when she was eighteen and desperate for work, saying that being a wife was work enough. Keep his belly full and his balls empty became the second most used phrase in her house after Amen. Linda Montgomery kept her face straight as her mother introduced her to nice, young Catholic suitors who she would take one good look over and ask whether they supported Miss Pankhurst and her plight for women's enfranchisement. Her mother would tut and her father would bury his head in the palm of his hand, as another man was scared away to the next young girl. Linda was a radical- Linda was wrong. So, when she met another devout woman at a local meeting for WSPU, she immediately trailed along to the Church that could possibly allow such beliefs alongside the teachings of Christ. The Quaker priest welcomed her with open arms, saying he was thankful to help her cast away the false idols she had been brought up with. Her mother spat at Linda's shoes, saying she had condemned the family by falling into an ecclesial community. Was this the love thy neighbour teaching that each holier than thou figure preached? So, Linda got a flat with Dorothy Evans (the woman who'd brought her to the Church) and attended that service on Sunday, then woke up before the Sun to get to work on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. Saturday sometimes too, if they needed a girl to work an extra shift.

That was another unspoken rule, even amongst the Quakers. If a woman was to find work, as rare as that would be, there were only two professions deemed suitable for good Christian women: teaching and nursing. Now, Linda had never been fond of children, so nursing it was. She had romanced the idea of it all throughout training, cooing over her baby blue uniform in the mirror that matched her eyes and thanking God for her ability to help others. It was no menial task, she would never say that. With the drunkards that gained injury after injury to the horrors of the Spanish influenza, on top of the everyday maladies that she guided to a hospital bed and patiently listened to her patients as they told her their stories. With those that noticed her silver cross that she always wore proudly over her uniform, she'd been invited to sit by their bedside and pray alongside them. Eventually she'd learned a couple of appropriate Bible verses to encourage and uplift, sometimes even writing them down if they wanted a more permanent influence. Then the War happened. The called it Great- she couldn't agree. Dorothy and her had both decided right from the start that knitting socks and lighting candles would not be enough for them. They packed up their nurses uniforms and followed the soldiers as they marched over to France. Romance was lost in the makeshift hospitals set up over thick mud that got their long dresses turning brown. Linda learned not to care; there were worst things that ended up on her aprons and managed to soak back through her clothes, turning her skin pinkish. As soon as she got home, she burnt her nurses uniform. She wanted to keep it at first, as a reminder of all that she'd lived through, but no matter how many times she washed and scrubbed until her hands were a familiar pink raw, the smell of blood never washed away. The photos stayed, as mementos to remind her that the Lord saved her, that he was with her still in the sleepless nights and the guilt that plagued her soul.

Instead of returning to the hospital before the Sun woke up on Monday, Linda found work at the only home she knew. The Church offered all kind of charity and volunteer work for her, but she was also employed as an accountant-cross-secretary role. She was good with numbers. She never knew that before. Nurse Montgomery was gone, but Linda Montgomery was proud and faithful and working still. She was twenty six and made sure to use her well-earned right by attending each and every campaign that her local area had to offer, voting according to her beliefs whenever an opportunity was open. Linda clung to it, to her faith, to her work with all she had. She had to make herself right in the Lord's eyes, had to make all those lives lost and unsavable soldiers that she'd pray with till their soul extinguished like a candle, she had to make it worth it. It had to mean something. So, when Linda saw a strange man stumble into the Church one Friday night, looking over to the empty rows of pews with hesitance and fear etched in every line in his face, she knew what she had to do. He was a handsome man, she couldn't deny it. Maybe it was that which piqued her interest.

Excusing herself from the desk (although the priest was getting on and hardly even heard her) she walked down to meet this tall man in a bulky grey coat that still hadn't figured out he was supposed to sit on the pews. 

"Hello there sir, are you alright?" She asked, polite and smiling. He looked up at the sound of her voice, although he didn't have to look far as she was quite the bit smaller than him. His eyes trailed up and down. Linda pulled her cardigan tighter around her shoulders, feeling her face go the same colour as her clothes. She didn't wear baby blue any more, even if it matched her eyes. This man had a soldier's haircut, shaved at the sides, and the rest of it was slicked back out of his nervous-looking face, a moustache presiding over his top lip.

"Um...yeah, well," he sounded a little gruff, although that was probably in part to his thick accent that Linda couldn't quite point her finger on. "Well, this is embarrassing. I thought this was supposed to be a Church, see, so I thought I'd come on in, but...uh, I, um, didn't mean to intrude. I'll leave you be."

"This is a Church," she said it quickly, before he could turn around to leave.

"It is, hey?" He chuckled a little to himself, rubbing the back if his neck. "Sorry, I thought there'd be a confession booth or something. They have that in St Oswald's."

"They have confessionals in Catholic Churches, this is a Quaker Church." She kept a smile on her face, although she heard the bitter voice of her mother ringing in her ears. Ecclesial. Pagan. Damned. "But if you need to talk, you're welcome to take a seat. I'm not a priest, but I can try my best to help."

She gestured to the pew, and the man ever so ungracefully set himself down, tucking his coat behind his hips. She sat in the pew in front of him, turning on her side so that she could face him. He, however, seemed to only be interested on the floor.

"What can I do for you, sir?"

"No, don't call me sir." He shook his head, looking up as he held his hand up too. "Arthur's the name, Arthur Shelby."

"I'm Linda Montgomery," she shook his hand demurely, not sure if the ragged-looking man was really the gentleman he presented himself as.

"Montgomery?" He smiled as if there was something funny about that. "That's a proper lady's name, that is. Bet your husband's a rich man or somethin'."

"I don't have a husband," she told him, showing off her bare ring finger. It never seemed important.

"How come?" He scrunched up his face as if in genuine confusion. "A lovely lady like yourself should have a man eating out the palm of ya hand."

"Work and war," she explained simply, shaking her shoulders as if it meant nothing. "I was a nurse. Never had time for it."

"Now you have no man but Jesus, right?" 

"Something like that." Linda moved a hand over, reaching onto his. There was a point to this conversation, one she was keen to getting back to. "Why are you here, Arthur?"

My, um, aunt always comes here when she needs, I dunno...clarity, I guess? I used to go too," he stumbled through his words, clearing his throat at odd moments as she tried to figure out how to get his heart into words. "I loved the hymns. But then the war happened, and I have all this shit in my head. Can't get rid of it either, cause I'm still a soldier. Still a fuckin' soldier."

His hands shook under Linda's own, and she was quick to realise the cracks in his lips and bruises under his pale eyes were a clear sign of withdrawal symptoms.

"Arthur, you aren't at war anymore," She said gently, rubbing his calloused hands soothingly. His wide eyes looked up at only her and she felt it stir a sermon in her. "You can find peace, I swear it. I know you've just quit drinking." His brow creased in shock, but he didn't dispute it. "The temptation you feel will be difficult to fight, but once that battle is over, you won't have to fight anymore."

"Work, love, work. I have to."

"Fuck work." She surprised even herself with her bold statement that was hastily followed with a look over her shoulder to see the aged priest nodding off in the back room. "There's a lot of things that aren't written in the Bible, Arthur, but that doesn't mean they aren't Gospel truth. The most important thing is that you have to love thyself before you can love thy neighbour. Once you help yourself, get yourself out of the darkness you're in, you'll find a way out, a way to better things."

There was a pause for a moment in which Linda could see the conflict in Arthur's eyes between blind faith in a woman he'd just met, and doubt in his own abilities.

"You're an angel," he whispered. He leaned forward and she half expected him to kiss her, although she didn't move her head back. Rather, when his hands rested onto her cheek, she moved forward ever so slightly, watching his adoring look with a little smile on her pink painted lips. "I think the Lord sent me to this fuckin' Quaker Church for a reason, Linda. I think He knew I'd meet the pretty blonde cherub woman who knew just what to say to stop me from reaching a bottle again."

"You give me too much credit," she warned.

"No, love, no. No one's ever said I could have a redemption. It feels good to be believed in."

"There's a temperance group here," Linda started rubbing circles in his hand. "Would you like to join? I work at the Church so you can pop in and see me afterwards, tell me if the Lord sent you in the right direction."

He laughed a lot at that, eyebrow cocked.

"You want to see me again, huh?" He said it like a dare, something amusing in the words.

"What would be so crazy about that?"

Bold words weren't usually Linda's forte, but she'd chased after work, the Church and a good life. Why couldn't she chase after this handsome man the Lord delivered to her?

[serious-writers-block]

Vessel - Chapter 30

Summary: Sam and Dean thought their lives were a living hell. When they find a young girl who shares their name and family business, neither of them can help but be curious about who she is and what she can do for them.

A/N: For some reason, any time I put links in my posts the post doesn’t show up in the tags. So for now, click on my profile and you’ll see a link to my masterlist where you can find links to all my fics as well as the masterlist for Vessel. 

When they returned to the bunker, the Winchester siblings immediately jumped into research mode. They spend the better part of a week digging through the same books over and over again. The eldest retreated to his ‘Dean cave’ hoping a little rest and relaxation would do him good. The younger two sat in the library, Sam at the table with his laptop and Mary laying on top of the table holding their father’s original journal.

 “Do you keep a journal?” she suddenly asked, still engrossed in her father’s writing. Even though John had given her a copy of everything he’d ever written, MJ still loved reading the original thing. The same handwriting and drawings she’d pored over as a child never failed to fascinate her. 

Sam cleared his throat, “not really. I never had the time.” He didn’t even look up from his computer.

 “Did Dean?”

 This time he looked at her, “I don’t know. You’d have to ask him. Why?”

 Though she was still laying on her back, she shrugged her shoulders, “just curious to know what you two have done.”

 “You could just ask.”

 MJ looked at her brother with eyebrows raised, “neither of you ever want to talk about what you’ve been through. I can’t imagine you’d tell me straight up even if I did ask.”

 He sighed, “that’s probably true.” She went back to reading the journal while Sam thought about their lives before meeting Mary. There were countless things she didn’t know and countless things they would likely never tell her themselves, “you know, if you’re really curious, Chuck published our stories under a pen name.”

 “Really?” she looked surprised, “God wrote books about you?”

 “We saved the world,” Sam admitted, “a couple of times actually.”

 She sat up excitedly, “do we have copies of them here?”

 He coughed out a laugh, “god no. Dean wants every copy of the Supernatural books burned.” MJ slouched dejectedly.

 “Edmund,” Dean nodded at Sam, entering the library, “Lucy,” he looked to Mary.

 “Was that-”

 “Did you just reference the Chronicles of Narnia?” Sam turned his attention to his brother.

 “Wait, you think you’re Peter?” MJ asked, putting more thought into the analogy than both of her brothers combined, “Does that make Cas Susan or Mr. Tumnus?” She dropped the conversation when she felt her phone vibrate. She retrieved her cell phone while ignoring her brothers’ conversation.

 “MJ?” Dean stopped mid-sentence when he saw his sister smiling down at her phone. When she didn’t respond he tried again, “MJ?”

 She looked up at him, “what?”

 “What’s got you all smiley?” Sam asked.

 “Is it Stephen?”

 “What?” she looked between the two of them, “No. Dude, no, it’s Claire. She wants to know if I want to work a case with her.”

 “Just you?” Dean eyed her suspiciously.

 “Students are going missing from an all-girls school in Ohio. No offense, but you two can’t exactly pass for 17-year-old girls.”

 “Wait a minute is…” Dean ignored what she said about the case, “is that why you turned Stephen down?”

 “What?” MJ looked confused, “No, that- that has nothing to do with this. Seriously, Dean? Why are you so hung up on that?”

 “Guys,” Sam interrupted his siblings, tired of the reoccurring discussion, “Mary, what’s the hunt?”

 She looked back at her phone, “Cincinnati, Ohio. Several girls were found dead in their locked dormitories, no sign of break in.”

 “That it?”

 “Their brains were liquid.”

 “But they were still there?” Dean asked

 “Barely, but yeah,” Mary continued reading from the message, “Claire’s not exactly sure what it is.”

 “All the more reason for us to come.”

 “De-”

 “You’re speaking in tongues, have magic dragon killing abilities, and you’re being hunted by everything that knows you exist. We’re coming.” Mary only sighed and shook her head as she trudged back to her room to pack.

~~~

“I thought I escaped high school,” Claire grumbled as she, Mary, and Dean approached the school.

 “If you thought regular high school was hell,” MJ muttered, “wait till you see Catholic school.” Dean glanced at his little sister; her comment was another reminder of how little he knew about her life before they met.

 The trio were visiting the school as a father and his two daughters that were hoping to attend the school while Sam stayed back at the motel to dig through the lore. Though he wasn’t thrilled with being left out of the early stages of the case, staying out of sight made it easier for Sam to play the FBI agent later.

 “Stephanie will show your girls around while we chat about what you can expect from the school and what we expect rom you,” the headmistress told Dean when Claire and Mary were greeted by a teenage girl wearing a plaid skirt and a matching cardigan sweater.

 The hunters parted ways to play their roles and continue investigating.

 “Don’t mind Sister Legs Shut,” the girl, Stephanie, said once they were out of ear shot, “this place is way easier than she makes it out to be.”

 Claire seemed confused, “she’s a nun?”

 “Nah, that’s just what we call her. She’s got a major stick up her ass,” she explained. Mary couldn’t help but roll her eyes, knowing what living under a nun’s nose was really like.

 “So,” Claire attempted to bring up the subject casually, “what happened to those girls earlier this month?”

 “Cops are saying they had aneurisms or something.”

 “You believe them?” MJ asked, playing her part.

 “Why wouldn’t I?”

 “Did you know the girls?” Claire continued

 Stephanie shook her head, “not really, they were nobodies.”

 Mary was distracted by the passing bulletin boards and school displays, detailing the holy sacraments and parables she’d grown up hearing. She was so engrossed in reading the signs she failed to notice the priest who stepped right in her path.

 “Shit, sorry,” she muttered when she collided with him.

 “Sorry, Father,” Stephanie stepped in, seeing who MJ rammed into, “she wasn’t watching where she was going.”

 “That’s alright, Ms. Martin,” the man smiled, he looked at the young Winchester for a moment before it occurred to him that he’d seen her before, “Mary?”

 MJ was frozen still, looking up at the man with wide eyes. Claire stepped between the priest and her friend, “you must be mistaken. This is my sister, Alex,” it was obvious to the young hunter that Mary recognized the man, but her inability to respond worried Claire.

 “Sorry, Fr. Lucas,” Stephanie interjected again, “we’ll get out of your way.” She dragged the two hunters away before the priest could say anything else. “A word of advice, Fr. Lucas is kind of a dick, I’d stay away from him if I were you.”

 “Why?” Claire asked, eyeing MJ.

 “You know men,” she rolled her eyes, “anyway, I have to get to class, but if you wait here, Annie said she’d finish giving you the tour once she’s finished with her class.”

 Once the student was out of earshot and it was just the hunters, Claire turned to Mary with a concerned look, “hey, you okay?”

 MJ cleared her throat, “aces.”

 “What- what was that? Did you know Fr. Lucas?”

 “He uh, he was stationed in Peoria about six years ago,” she began, “he just surprised me is all.” Before either could say anymore on the subject, a different girl dressed in the same plaid skirt and matching cardigan approached the pair.

 “Hi, I’m Annie,” she said with a smile, “Stephanie had to go, so I’m going to finish giving you your tour. Do you have any questions thus far?”

 “Those are the dorms over there, right?” Claire asked, taking up the lead once again.

 Annie’s smile never faltered, “they are.”

 “So that’s where the bodies were found?”

 The student paused, “The headmistress doesn’t want us talking about that on the tour, but yeah…” There was a sad undertone to Annie’s voice, unlike the emotionless quality of Stephanie’s.

 It was Mary’s turn to talk, “did you know them?”

 “Everyone knew them,” she offered a sad, regretful smile, “everyone loved them.”

 “Girls,” suddenly the headmistress stepped in the path of the three young women, “are you quite finished with the tour?”

 “Yes, headmistress,” Annie said, not looking the woman in the eye.

 “Good. I’ll take you girls to your father, Ms. Donlan, you may return to class.” Annie only nodded in obedience before leaving Claire and Mary with the authoritative woman. None of them spoke as the headmistress walked them back to the office where Dean waited. He had been speaking to the secretary when they arrived, but the woman quickly dropped the conversation upon seeing her boss.

 “Thank you,” Dean said to the headmistress once she returned with Claire and Mary, “you’ve certainly given us a lot to think about.”

 “Certainly,” she said with a nod. “Good day.” Before anything else could be said, her office door was shut and the hunters were left looking at each other in confusion. They wordlessly agreed to leave the ever weirder school and discuss all they had found at the motel with Sam. 

~~

“I think it’s the headmistress. She’s got a major stick up her ass,” Dean decided. He was sitting across from his brother at the small table inside their motel room. Claire and Mary sat together on one of the beds, Claire on her laptop while Mary was spread out on her back staring at the ceiling.

 Claire shook her head, “I think it’s Fr. Lucas. The girl giving the tour told us to stay away from him and-”

 Mary interrupted her before she could finish her sentence, knowing exactly what was coming, “it’s not Fr. Lucas.”

 “But you-”

 “No, Claire,” she shot her down again, “I know it’s not him.”

 Sam cleared his throat, “how do you know? We don’t even know what did this yet.”

 The youngest Winchester hesitated as she looked at her brothers. With a sigh, she decided to tell them, “Fr. Lucas was stationed in Peoria when I was little.”

 “What?”

 “He’s harmless, at least in the teenage girl killing sense, he’s just a bit of a creep.”

 “You were scared shitless when you saw him.” This made Dean see red, the things the demon had said about the priests in Peoria still fresh in his mind.

 “I wasn’t,” MJ started to defend herself but struggled with the right words to say, “he caught me off guard, that’s all. I was little when he left Peoria, but I had always heard it was because he left the priesthood.”

 “Left the priesthood? Why?” Sam asked. Dean was still angrily watching the exchange.

 Mary shrugged, “lots of people said it was because he was gay, but obviously Father would never have confirmed that. I just didn’t expect to see him working at an all-girls school in Ohio, that’s all.”

 The conversation lulled, prompting Dean to interject, “so if it’s not the headmistress and it’s not the gay priest, who do you think it is?”

 MJ looked at her oldest brother, “Stephanie. When we asked her about the girls, she said they were nobodies, said she didn’t even know them, but when we asked Annie about them, she told us the girls were loved by everyone.”

 “You think that’s enough to go on?” Sam questioned.

 “I know strict Catholic school principals and I know creepy priests,” she started, “neither of them are out of the ordinary.”

 “Guys,” Sam interrupted them as he turned the volume up on their police radio.

 “Another body?” Dean asked.

 “Yeah,” Sam quickly stood, grabbing his FBI badge and phone from the table, “I’m gonna go see if I can get to the scene before they move it.”

 Dean stood to join him, “you two stay here, we’ll be back.”

 Once the boys were gone, MJ turned to Claire, “why would you tell them that?”

 “What?”

 “That the priest scared me. You know they already think I’m lying about the stuff at the foster home.”

 Claire interrupted her, “are you?”

 “No!” she insisted, “seriously, you’re just going to freak them out more. There’s nothing wrong with that priest and there’s nothing wrong with me.”

 The older hunter sighed, “Mary-”

 “No. I’m so friggin’ tired of people looking at me like I’m some kind of damaged goods and like I could fall apart at any moment.”

 After a moment of silence, Claire cautiously began, “I spent a fair amount of time bouncing around foster homes and group homes after my mom disappeared. Honestly, I’d be more surprised if you told me all your foster parents were great. Your brothers and Jody, they don’t know what it’s like. They try to understand, but they’ll never really know. I have a feeling Dean reacts the way he does because he thinks it’s his fault that you were there. I don’t think- honestly, I know you’re not fragile or damaged. It takes a lot of strength to survive a life like yours.”

 “Whatever, Claire,” MJ stood from the bed and approached the small table, beside which sat the cooler the brothers kept stocked with beer. She pulled two out and popped them open with the ring on her right hand, a trick her brother had taught her, “here.”

 “They won’t care?” Claire asked, accepting the drink.

 Mary shrugged, “not like we’re going anywhere.”

~~~~~

“Any EMF? Sulfur?” Dean asked when his brother returned to the room where the body was found. Sam shook his head. “So, not a ghost, not a demon, and not the closeted priest.” The man Claire and Mary had seen only a few hours before was sprawled out on the floor in front of them, his brains liquified. They gave one another a look before each taking a side of the room to scan for clues.

 “Dude,” Sam groaned, pulling out a hex bag and holding it up for Dean to see.

 “Dammit,” Dean cursed, “why’s it always gotta be witches?” he pulled his gun from his waistband and checked the bullets. They weren’t witch killing, but at least they’d slow it down.

 “You boys almost done here?” a voice came from the doorway. With the police officer stood the headmistress dressed in a nightgown and robe.

 “Mr. Wilson?” the woman recognized Dean from earlier in the day, “you’re FBI?”

 His eyes looked her over, “yeah. It’s uh, it’s why I want the girls to go to a nice, safe boarding school.”

 “This isn’t typical,” she nervously assured him.

 “Did Padre here have any enemies? Anyone that would want to hurt him?”

 She shook her head, “no. Everyone loved Fr. Lucas.” Dean gave Sam a look, remembering what the girls had said about the priest, “I assure you, Agent Wilson, your girls will be perfectly safe here.”

 “Well, I’d like to take a look around,” he decided, “be absolutely sure.” While Dean proceeded to explore the school, Sam ran to the Impala to retrieve the witch hunting bullets.

 Back at the motel, Mary and Claire had each finished several beers and were spread out on one of the beds. They wore bright smiles and giggled as they told stories, or rather as Claire told stories about college and hunting. MJ felt like she had very little to add.

 “Come on,” Claire taunted her, “you hunted by yourself for weeks. You’re honestly telling me you didn’t hook up with anyone? You didn’t have any wild nights?”

 MJ couldn’t help but roll her eyes, “why does everyone assume I ran off to hunt with some guy?”

 “I didn’t say you went to hunt with a guy, I just don’t get how you didn’t take advantage of being out on your own. I mean, if I didn’t have to share a hotel room with Jody I-”

 “Claire,” she interrupted her, “Claire, I – I don’t know what to tell you. I’ve never been that interested in anyone. I mean, I’ve never even been on a date, much less-”

 “Well, yeah, I haven’t really been on a normal date either but that doesn’t mean I can’t get laid.”

 Mary snorted out a laugh, “Again, I lived with a priest and a nun. Why does everyone keep forgetting that? Even if I didn’t, Catholics don’t really give you any leeway on the whole premarital sex leads to burning in hell thing.”

 “It’s kind of ironic,” she hiccupped, “that you were raised Catholic and now God is telling you that you’re his vessel. I bet no religion class could’ve prepared you for that one.”

 “Oh my god,” Mary shot up from the bed, “I’m such an idiot. I’ve been trying to figure out why in the hell I have ‘powers’ when I haven’t said yes yet.”

 “Okay…?”

 “When we were at the school there was a bulletin board for each of the seven sacraments. One of them was for Confirmation.”

 “And?”

 Mary explained her theory while talking at a mile a minute, “Confirmation is when you receive the gifts of the Holy Spirit. You accept the power of the Holy Spirit and fully enter the Church.” Claire still looked confused. “I was Confirmed five years ago, Claire.”

 “Meaning you already accepted,” she finally understood. MJ nodded at her friend. “Does that mean it can possess you at any time?”

 The Winchester shrugged, “I mean, technically I accepted the gifts of the Holy Spirit, I never said I would let it use me as a vessel. I’m not sure what the rules are on all this, but it explains the speaking in tongues and the fortitude during torture.”

 The conversation was interrupted when the older two Winchesters strolled into the motel room. “Congrats, MJ,” Dean said, pulling a $20 bill from his pocket and handing it to his sister, “you were right, it was Stephanie.” The two regularly made small bets during hunts to keep things interesting and though he hated to admit it, Mary usually won. Before he could explain how she had killed the vics, he stopped and saw the empty beer bottles scattering the room. “Dude.”

 “Dean,” she started to defend herself before Dean yanked the money back from her as if to say it was payment for drinking his beer. “Yeah, okay, I guess I deserve that.”

 “Guys,” Claire tried to interject.

 “I thought I told you no drinking,” Dean reprimanded.

 MJ cocked her head to the side, “actually, you said no bars.”

 “Dean,” Claire tried again more forcefully.

 “What?” he finally turned to her.

 “She figured it out.”

 It was Sam’s turn to join the conversation, “figured what out?”

 “How I have powers when I haven’t said yes,” their sister explained, “I received the gifts of the Holy Spirit at Confirmation.”

 “Confirmation?”

 “Yeah, it’s one of the sacraments. It’s how you become an adult in the Church. I was 13 when I was Confirmed but I guess the gifts are just now fully kicking in.”

 Sam shrugged, “or they’re just more noticeable now.”

 “So, what, you already consented to being a vessel?” Dean asked, “you were just a kid, isn’t that like statutory possession or something?”

 “That’s the thing, I don’t think I consented to being the vessel, I just consented to receiving the Spirit’s gifts. They only kick in when I need them, like when I’m being tortured or a dragon is attacking me-”

 “Or when you need to communicate with someone who speaks a different language,” Sam interrupted. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before.”

 “Probably because you weren’t raised Catholic and your knowledge of the church and its teachings are introductory at best,” MJ said smartly. She was snarky when she drank.

 “I’ve literally met God,” Sam defended himself. Mary only shrugged in response as she fell back onto the bed.

 “Kid,” Dean looked at the number of bottles strewn about the room, “how much did you drink?” MJ looked at Claire and then at the cooler. Before she could answer him, Dean went to the cooler and found it empty. “Seriously?”

 She laughed a little as she looked at Claire, “maybe don’t bench us next time. What were we supposed to do?” The brothers shook their heads at the two teenage girls. Though they knew it was their responsibility to reprimand their behavior, neither could hide their amusement at the situation.

 As Sam started to clean the room up, tossing the bottles and cans into the wastebasket while the girls chatted on the bed, Dean’s phone suddenly rang. He looked at the caller I.D. before quickly picking it up.

 “Sonny?” he asked into the phone. The last time he’d heard from the man it was because of a vengeful spirit at the boys’ home in New York. It wasn’t like him to call just to catch up. Sam turned to his brother when he heard the name. “Yeah, we can swing by and check it out. We’re just a day or so away… yeah… okay, see you soon.”

 When Dean hung up the phone Sam asked his brother, “everything okay?”

 “That was Sonny, said he might have a case for us.” Dean turned to where his sister sat with Claire. “They’ve gotta sleep this off before we can do anything, so we can head his way in the morning.” The boys agreed to get a good nights sleep before parting ways with the Novak girl and going to see Sonny.

[nonbinarysasquatch]

I’m Not the Person I Used to Be

I really went through a cycle on the Greg recast this year. I started off just being… shocked. I couldn’t really process it. Then I became nervous about it. I worried that even with good intentions, it would be too weird to deal with.

I believed that maybe he would be Greg in name only and just be a new person who happened to have Greg’s background. I think I kind of wanted that just because it felt like the odds of them being able to pull off having someone act like Santino just wouldn’t work.

I’m happy to say that not only does the recast work but it was the right creative decision. Skylar acts just enough like Santino to make him seem like Greg and the writing is pretty much 80% on point for feeling like Greg (and the remaining 20% is kind of tbd as I need more time to get to know Greg’s new incarnation.)

By recasting Greg they are able to continue his story as intended without undoing the ending they gave him. He left, regenerated and came back a new man. But not entirely. Because… it really feels like Greg. He’s sarcastic, funny and still seems to have a weak spot for Rebecca Bunch.

Greg has returned at the best/worst time possible. Rebecca is tempted by relapse, finding herself drawn to Josh and Nathaniel. In Josh’s case he’s changed and grown a lot and he and Rebecca are actually friends. But the part of her that’s drawn to him still harkens back to a unhealthy part of her. The immature, obsessive part of her.

In Nathaniel’s case, his change for now feels pretty fake and for her benefit. He still seems to be mirroring Rebecca’s arc in the earlier seasons. It’s a little awkward to juxtapose her feelings for Nathaniel and Josh if only because really she’s Nathaniel’s Josh. But either way, Nathaniel represents different unhealthiness. The darker more privileged parts of her were drawn to Nathaniel, though she DID have obsessive problems with Nathaniel, and that’s the very reason she broke up with him the first time.

Greg, though? Greg was always the opposite of Nathaniel and Josh. They are romcom fantasies. The hot, popular guy who was good at sports and the hot, rich asshole. Greg represents the overlooked, friend zoned guy but he was always more nuanced and realistic than Josh or Nathaniel.

Rebecca appreciate Greg the least which is tragic as he may have been the only guy she had some genuine feelings for. Greg may be the closest she’s ever got to a real down to Earth relationship, however brief it was. But she wasn’t ready for that. Greg was too real. And of course, it was an extremely toxic relationship. They were bad for each other. Their pathologies ground against each other in a way that was damaging for them both.

The ending they gave Greg was perfect. It was important that they not undo it. And having seen this episode, I don’t believe they have. That ending still matters. It still counts. This is a new beginning… of sorts.

For a first episode Skylar does pretty good. The idea of having to pull of acting like Santino but not TOO much like Santino and having chemistry with Rachel and nailing the character as written and giving a good performance on top of it is ridiculous but Skylar did a pretty good job. I’m sure he’ll only get better from here. I am grading a bit on a curve just because… look the chances this was even going to WORK a little bit were slim. That it actually works pretty well should be seen as being vaguely miraculous.

So putting aside the casting, what did I think narrative about the Greg/Rebecca stuff? I liked it. A lot. A lot of that relies on the fact that the episode does two things I didn’t want it to do: have Greg just be Greg and have Rebecca accept him pretty easily. Again: those were the right decisions. I was wrong and Rachel and Aline were right. Who knew?

Greg and Rebecca still have chemistry. Though I’m a bit worried for them both. Greg seems maybe a little too eager for a fresh start with Rebecca. I can’t blame the guy. He’s trying to be a better, more accepting person. He’s probably heard STORIES in AA that would shock most people. He probably gets Rebecca now better than he ever did before.

It’s also possible he can tell she’s changed. He certainly seems to realise it at the end. But either way… their history isn’t great. I care about them both so I worry for them both.

Worrying about Rebecca is easy: she’s getting a bit too close to relapse. That she’s even contemplating who she’s meant to be with is troubling. But it’s good that she knows it’s not good. And it’s good that ultimately, she chose to tell Greg about Marco herself. Hearing it from his dad first probably would’ve been harder (though I do hope Marco takes the time to really explain why how he treated Rebecca that night wasn’t OK as it’s a side of the story that deserves to be told, though I’m sure Greg would rather not know any of it.)

I have theories on how the Greg/Rebecca arc will play out over the rest of the season but I’ll save them for later. Suffice to say, I still think she’s not going to end up with any of the guys. I do think there IS a version of an ending with her ending up with Greg that… I would still be iffy about but could work if done a particular way MAYBE.

Meanwhile, Josh Chan: Goddamn, I’m still loving everything they are doing with Josh this season. So amazing seeing his status as the popular kid getting deconstructed. See, Josh has always represented a trope that is more from teen romcoms. He’s the popular guy who is good at sports… but with Josh it’s sort of a what if? Because Josh Chan grew up.

In this episode, he gets to reflect on one of the biggest parts of his identity: being prom king. Which he has now learned is a lie. And worst of all, thanks to George (which, whoa, plot twist) he’s now realised that maybe he didn’t have it as great as he thought. Josh, beneath it all, is really a bit of a dork. But like a lot of jocks he’s had to suppress that to stay popular. We’ve heard him mention his magic in the past but we’ve never seen it. Turns out it was a passion he hid. And he’s not really that great at it.

I would love nothing more than to see Josh embrace his inner dork. It’s already kind of who he is. The cool guy was a facade. And maybe that’s why he’s always struggled in life (well, not the only reason, certainly as Josh still has some other issues in his way, particularly as it relates to how he has treated the women in his life.)

Though I don’t really like it, there is an ending with Josh and Rebecca ending up together I could envision. But ultimately, regardless of anything else, Rebecca’s abuse of Josh should never be rewarded. (And no, there isn’t an ending with Nathaniel I see that makes sense. He’s too far behind and the abuse issues that apply with Josh apply there too. He really hasn’t even approached dealing with his underlying problems yet.)

And this brings us to Valencia…

As a person in my mid 30s… I’ve known a great deal of people around my age (and older of course) who many years later still have feelings for people they knew as teenagers. I can’t really relate as I find getting over people to be pretty easy and my nostalgia for my youth is limited. But it’s pretty common.

The most fascinating thing about this Valencia/Father Brah plot twist is how it relates to Josh and Rebecca. Josh cheated on Valencia with Rebecca, Valencia cheated on Josh with Father Brah. Of course, the situations are entirely the same. Brah and Josh were friends. Rebecca was entirely out of sight and Josh dumped her as soon as summer camp was over. Josh wasn’t really that into Rebecca but Valencia was, in that absurd teenage way, in love with Father Brah.

But then you grow up. You become a different person but for some ridiculous reason those feelings remain. Why? I don’t know. As I said, this isn’t a thing that happens to me. But I’ve known a lot of people my age who… are far enough removed to have nostalgia and that somehow feeds the feelings, making them seem grander than they probably were.

Everything else aside (like Valencia having a girlfriend and Brah being married to Jesus) it’s not like the two of them could just start dating. They are different people. But hey, again: mirroring Rebecca, this time with Greg.

This also recontexualises all those old scenes with Josh talking to Father Brah about his relationship with Valencia and his feelings for Rebecca. It’s one of my favourite narrative techniques, where new information shines a light on old events. And it’s funny but I’ll be gosh darned if I can think of a single direct Valencia/Brah interaction before now. Sure, they’ve been in the same room a few times but… this plot 100% tracks. I’m sure that’s a mixture of planning and accident but hey, nice.

Heather was so fucking funny this episode. It was kind of nice seeing a bit of the older Heather back. That said, I feel like all the weirdness with the pronouns and her assuming Valencia’s ex-lover was a woman were unnecessary. For one thing, obviously Valencia was never close to another woman before Rebecca and Heather (and all the fans) know that. For another… it’s just distracting. I would have preferred at best her speculating about different men and women. I get what they were trying to do but it was a bit of a misstep in an otherwise basically perfect episode.

I do have one other minor-ish complaint about Valencia’s plot and it’s this: ultimately, her plot means very little for her. It does, however, mean a lot for Father Brah. It recontextualises and adds another layer to his relationship with Josh and presents a more nuanced view of a Catholic priest (that doesn’t involve him being a terrible person or a creeper.)

What does it tell us about Valencia? Nothing really. We already know she wasn’t happy with Josh. We already know she was attracted to men who weren’t Josh. And it’s not like she was going to leave Beth for fucking Father Brah LOL. So what was the point for her? None really. Which only hurts in that we’ve been so starved for Valencia development. But whatevs. I’ll take what I can get. This was a (mostly) good plot and Gabrielle always kills with what she’s given.

Am I going to wade into arguing about whether Valencia is bi or a lesbian? No, I am not. It’s not actually important and arguing about it is a waste of everyone’s time and energy given there are straight fans out there who don’t even buy her being with a woman… Maybe we should focus more on that and less on arguing about what kind of woman who loves women she really is? 

That said, the writers and Gabrielle have said she’s bi and that does track with how she’s been presented, so take that as you will. I’m sure we can all agree we wish her sexuality had been better explored but honestly aside from that she’s still one of the least tropey bi female characters I’ve ever seen and nothing about her really contradicts really lived human experiences.

The Songs:

Hello, Nice to Meet You: Look, I’ve been pretty supportive of Rachel taking a rest song wise this season but I’ll be honest: it was really good to see her singing again. This is a great introduction to the new Greg and HOLY COW MY THEORY ABOUT GREG AND REBECCA DOING FOOD PLAY HAS BECOME CANON, I AM TRUE PROPHET. No, this song is great. It’s a very Rachel Bloom number with her humour all over it (just like the arrabiata all over Greg’s dick.)

What U Missed While U Were PopUlar: I friggin’ love this song. Probably instantly in my top 3 for the season. It’s catchy and one of the best songs music video wise they’ve had all season. And it’s a George song??? Who knew a George song could be one of my favourites?

Rating: 10.0 out of 10.0.

Best episode all season and one of the best episode ever. I need to go back and downrate all the other episodes from this season…

[8-bitgossip]

Quotations

Ambient Conversations:

“I fucking hate mosquitos. Can we get away from all of this stagnant water before we die of West Nile or some shit?”

“You know, there’s a really good hiking trail around here. If you just turn here…. And we’re going the other way. Nevermind.”

“Gotta love the wilderness, the sun, the rivers, the lakes, the idea that there could be a Chosen archer hiding in the trees just waiting to murder us.”

“...Yeah. Heights. This’ll be fun. Not. Can we uh -- get down. Like. Now.”

“So. Have you ever thought about what’s gonna happen when all this is over? People don’t even have homes to go back to anymore and what? Are we gonna hold hands and sing kumbaya and pretend this all didn’t happen? Like fucking hell.”

When Deputy Points a Gun at Them:

“Ah. So this is what betrayal feels like. Gotta admit I’m hurt Deputy.”

“Et tu, Brute?”

Holland Valley:

“Ah. You can almost smell John Seed’s entitlement from here. Or… maybe that’s just his cologne. Eau de Asshole.”

“The Spread Eagle. Did you know that Girl’s Night has karaoke? You’ll have to ask Grace to sing Man! I Feel Like a Woman! by Shania Twain. It’s a blast.”

“Ah yes. Open fields, straight roads, the perfect place for snipers to shoot at us while I can’t shoot at them. Let’s get a move on.”

“...you think that the general store ever got my shipment of books in before shit went south? No?” *sighs* “And I was so looking forward to finishing the last of Toni Morrison’s body of work.”

“Gotta admit, even though I don’t remember it -- one baptism was more than enough for me; evidently I cried the whole time. My childhood priest wouldn’t be pleased with me converting to some crazed religious cult. Catholicism is cult  enough for any one person.”

“You think we could convince some people to sneak speakers up by John’s house? And blast Oh John from their fucking radio station while he tries to sleep? It’ll be hilarious.”

After Being Captured By John:

1st Encounter: “Did you enjoy your dip in the bliss filled water? Was John everything you hoped for? Thank god for Pastor Jerome and getting you out of there before shit hit the fan.” 2nd Encounter: “God. John’s quite the drama queen isn’t he? Shouting for you over the loudspeakers, promising that God will lead him to you.” *snickers* “He’ll be sending you flowers and love poetry before you know it, Dep.” John’s Death: “Well, everyone in the Valley can breathe at least a little easier now… It’s just a damn shame about the lives lost in the process and all of the people displaced by the violence.”

Henbane River:

“Ah yes, just your good, old fashioned, brain melting hallucinogenic drugs that at the very least sends you on a bad trip and at worst, turns you into a fucking zombie. Just how I wanted to spend my Tuesday.”

“Oh good. I’ve been meaning to stop by and see Addie. I have to talk to her about the fucking alleged haunted house she sold me.”

“I swear officer! It wasn’t me! Don’t cart me off to jail!” *snickers*

“You know what fucking sucks the most about all of this? They blissed out all of the best swimming spots in the Henbane, so unless you want to get really high I don’t recommend it.”

“Do you have any idea how much I’d love to take a rocket launcher to that sanctimonious prick’s dick?” *pause* “On the statue, dumbass. Although… Now that I’m on the topic…”

“...Please tell me that you’re also seeing pink elephants and about a dozen Faith’s littering the sides of the roads. Oh god.”

After Being Captured By Faith:

1st Encounter: “You never take me anywhere nice, actually, I lied. Do not. I repeat. Do not. Take me skydiving off of that fucking statue. I will murder you.” 2nd Encounter: “Best be careful there Dep. The adrenaline can bring you back but… there’s always a cost. You gotta wonder what the cost of finding that Marshall and bringing him back is.” Faith’s Death: “It’ll take years for this place to get back to normal… All of that Bliss, in everything. It’s not just gonna go away, and we don’t even know the long term effects. What a fucking waste of life.”

Whitetail Mountains:

“I should stop by and see Will and Eli while we’re here… No one in that fucking Militia keeps themselves fed unless you bug them about it. Fully grown toddlers, I swear to god.”

“Guess I should be thankful that the Cult isn’t as concerned with book burning as other zealous religious groups -- I would storm the Veteran’s Center myself if Jacob tried to burn my books.”

“...Did you hear that howl? We should go. Before we end up as wolf chow. Or, we could stay and when the Judge’s come you stay there, and I’ll climb a tree and use you as a big, beautiful distraction.”

“So… You know that fucking eyesore of a Truck that Hurk Senior owns? A few months ago I dumped pink paint all over that shit. Hurk and Sharky thought it was funny… his daddy not so much. It was just detailed too. Such a shame, that.”

“For the record, if you’re planning on using helicopters to travel you can count me out, out of this county, out of this little group of yours, out of existence. There will be no heights for this woman in this or any lifetime.”

“Please tell me that you’re not actually going to get those records on the kid’s list. He has like, the WORST music taste. Literally give anyone else that job because I don’t know how much of What’s New Pussycat I can take.”

After Being Captured By Jacob:

1st Encounter: “Careful now, Dep. The mind is the one thing that’s really hard to un-fuck once you get it into a bad place so just… be careful. The reprogramming may not be so family friendly.” 2nd Encounter: “You ever think that people get tired of his whole, “I ate a man once”, shtick? Like. We get it, you’re the scary mountain gremlin who likes to murder people and train deadly wolves, we don’t need more than that.” Jacob’s Death: “...What happened was... unfortunate. But it’s over now. It’s all almost over.”

Intercompanion Dialog:

Nick

Nick: “Hey. So, Kim’s been meaning to ask you for that recipe you and Will brought to the last cookout.” Bridget: “The peach cobbler or the pudding shots?” Nick: “….Both. Definitely both. And make sure that you bring them both again next time. They were a lifesaver. Who the fuck brings pineapple pizza to a barbecue?” Bridget: “Evidently, the Seeds. As if we needed another reason to shoot them.” Nick: *laughs* “Right?” Bridget: “I’ll make sure to stop by the next time I have a chance, I’m sure that Kim would enjoy some new faces around.”

Grace

Bridget: “I managed to find a copy of Beloved for you if you’re still interested in reading it?” Grace: “Really? You found it before the Peggies lost their shit then?” Bridget: “Yeah, it was in the last shipment of books that came into the library before everything went post-apocalypse now.” Grace: “I’d love to read it, be nice to take my mind off of everything that’s going on.” Bridget: “Of course! I’ll bring it by 8Bit the next time we’re gonna meet up there for you to read. I promise you’ll love this one.” Grace: “You haven’t steered me wrong yet.”

Boomer

Bridget: “You know… I’ve always been more of a cat person myself….” Boomer: *whines* Bridget: “Don’t give me those --” *sighs* “Fine. Fine. You’re the only exception. Happy now?” Boomer: *happy bark*

Sharky

Sharky: “Hey so, Bridget. I have a question.” Bridget: “Hm?” Sharky: “Do you think that readin’ Shakespeare and Charles Dickens and shit would make me sound smarter?” Bridget: “Nope.” Sharky: “Seriously?” Bridget: “Sharky, it was like… the Simpsons of our times, people just like to act like it was smarter and better. Besides, you’re plenty smart by yourself and if anyone tells you different you can tell them to find me and I’ll beat the shit out of them with my twenty five pound Shakespeare anthology.” Sharky: *laughs* “Can and will do, ma’am.”

Adelaide:

Bridget: “So… About that haunted house you sold me…” Addy: “Ah, I was wondering when you’d figure that out -- technically no one’s ever died on the property and the hauntings are all just rumors that the town likes to tell.” Bridget: “It definitely explains why it was half of the price of every other house in Hope County.” Addy: “Darlin’ you always get what you pay for, and honestly, I think you and that man of yours got quite the steal on that place.” Bridget: “Uh-huh. Just know, that if I die, I have every intention of haunting you just so that you have to deal with those sort of shenanigans and whispers from the people in Fall’s End.” Addy: *laughs* “It’s a deal.”

Billy:

Billy: “So I say we just…” *inaudible whispering* Bridget: “Absolutely not! We are not going to panty raid the entirety of John Seed’s house and hang his silk underwear from his flag pole no matter how funny I think that is.” Billy: “Come on, think of the rage -- the pure unadulterated fury that he’ll have at seeing his glorious black silk boxers hanging from every available surface in the Valley.” Bridget: “Do not. It’s too fucking tempting.” Billy: “You know you want to.” Bridget: “You’re the absolute worst.” Billy: “That’s not a no.” Bridget: “Fuck you.”

Peaches:

Bridget: “Hey! You want some treats?” Peaches: *cougar noises* Bridget: “I talked to Chad and he gave me the scraps from the latest roadkill he’s gotten and I’ve saved it for my favorite kitty.” Peaches: *happy cougar noises* Bridget: “Yup! It’s all for the best murder machine in the Henbane.”

Hurk:

Hurk: “So you’re sure you’re not interested in Hurk’s Gate?” Bridget: “Nope. I’m pretty good where I’m at, plus, Jerome would be out a Youth Pastor if I did.” Hurk: “Well, I guess you could still stay with the Youth Pastoring thing, helping the youth and all of that is important, plus you could start recruiting them to Hurk’s Gate.” Bridget: “Still gonna pass.” Hurk: “Huh. Gonna have to do the hard sell on you, huh? Well, what if I told you that there are tons of beautiful men and women who are --” Bridget: “Hurk, I’m gonna stop you right there. My grandmother was Irish Catholic, were I to convert to anything she’d come down from heaven just to beat the ever living shit out of me.” Hurk: “Respecting the wishes of your grandma I can get that. Yeah.”

Jess:

Jess: “Hey, thanks for letting me crash with you and Will for the last few months, it’s been… a lifesaver. Really.” Bridget: “We know how hard it’s been, I’m glad to see you getting back on your feet… Well, as back on your feet as you can get given the circumstances.” Jess: “It’s crazy, all this shit goin’ south with the Peggie’s is what it’s taken for me to get my life back in order… It’s almost surreal.” Bridget: “Well, if you ever need us, our door is open and the spare bedroom is yours.” Jess: “Thank you, Bridget.’

Ashlee:

Bridget: “So. When all of this is over, we’re having a party. A big one.” Ashlee: “Obviously.” Bridget: “My first thought is at the lake, but then I’m like, “but wait, we live in the middle of nowhere, our only sources of entertainment are drinking and shooting things” which means that I’d spend my time worrying about people accidentally ending up in the water and drowning.” Ashlee: “A fair point, but may I just say that they’re all fucking adults and should know better. We’ll grab some trucks to put along the waterfront to play music and block the way into the water and then people will have to think to get in.” Bridget: “An excellent idea. This is why I keep you around.” Ashlee: “And here I thought it was because I was attractive and intelligent company.” Bridget: “Always. Heart emoji” Ashlee: “Did you just---” Bridget: “Don’t.”

Cheeseburger:

Bridget: “Cheeseburger!” Cheeseburger: *bear noises* Bridget: “You know, every time we’re out here, I’m always surprised that the deputy hasn’t had a saddle made to ride you into battle like the majestic beast you are.” Cheeseburger: *bear noises*

[whitegirlrevert]

Conversion from Catholicism to Islam – a response

How have you found the conversion from Catholic to Islam. Lots of things in common but I’m sure there are also some pretty big differences. 

*note this is just my experience*

At the end of the day religion is just a way to connect with the divine nature. I don’t see it as black or white. The more you get into any religion the more it starts to bother you because you recognize the inconsistencies between faith and practice.

I believe that you can be a believer in something higher or not. It’s something that’s personal. If at the end of the day, religion doesn’t make you a better person and help you benefit humankind then what is the point? That being said, there are many religious people who do benefit immensely from practicing their faith.

…

Use of reasoning.

What I appreciated with Islam is this notion of logic and rationality being used as an explanation for every single tiny thing. My understanding of this has now developed further and I know that even the ways that we construct religious rules and practice can shift depending on the social underpinnings of the initial “law-makers”. Growing up catholic, (and that may just be my specific upbringing) there were no explanations for anything. Everyone just took their faith as something certain without questioning it. This also still happens among muslims. I think it comes from a fear of questioning, based on a slippery slope concept. Perhaps questioning may lead you to leave the faith, and thus, it must be inspired by the “evil spirit”.

I am almost certain that if I was to continue searching with Catholicism, that I would have found a more intellectual basis for it. But there were just too many aspects of belief that were integral to the faith, and yet I fundamentally disagreed with, that it just didn’t make sense to identify as catholic anymore. It takes a lot of courage to reject something that you were brought up with. Multiple layers of disidentification occur before you can ultimately distance yourself.

Similar to use of reasoning, is having explanations for traditions.

Mass, or the specific traditions involved, was never explained to me. Even if I asked, no one seemed to know. In Islam, however potentially flawed, there is a specific reason for everything, and it’s not merely “well this is how people have been doing it for awhile”. I was never a fan of confession and I appreciate the Islamic principle that humans cannot intercede on your behalf. A similarity among reverts to Islam is their rejection of the concept of a trinity due to their inability to conceptualize it. We were always taught that this is the “truth”, but truth is always a construct. If you don’t have a trinity, then a lot of things about Christianity don’t come together for you anymore. I am not saying that it’s incorrect, just that it’s actually quite a difficult and contested concept, and yet, it has become simplified as if you’re just supposed to take such a theological concept at face value.

Specific rights for women.

If you go back to the New Testament and the Old Testament there aren’t really any explicit rights that women get. So when people question me, why can’t Islam operate how christians treat women. First of all, which christian women? Where do they live? There are christian women in parts of Africa who cohabit in polygynous relationships and have no explicit rights. In these regions, muslim women in polygynous relationships actually report higher marital satisfaction in comparison.

Comparative statements may be true in the sense that muslims should be treating women a different way, but often we mix Islam with muslims. The legal rights that women receive in Islam are very clearly stipulated in the religious text. The same does not occur in the bible. Instead, it’s actually external practice that have shaped the lives of Christian women. Do I think that the notion of Christ’s love and salvation plays a role in this? Absolutely! But we nonetheless have countless examples where women are not treated well in Christian communities. We cannot only look at how much fabric is on a woman’s body and deduce from that what the level of her “oppression” is.

Female religious leaders.

I grew up catholic so that’s a pretty specific ubringing. Many other churches allow women to be much more involved in the church, either as priests/ministers/pastors or other leadership roles. Arguably, the catholic church does not provide these positions. The same can be said of mosques – a woman can’t lead prayer in front of men. They can in front of women, but there are pretty much no opportunities made for women to lead female-led prayer either. It’s just not a priority. There are often religious conferences where they invite a token female scholar or worse, no female scholar to the panel. Sometimes I want to yell, “hey! We exist.”

Also, the struggle to find recitation of God’s word in Arabic by a female is real. It’s ridiculous. If you are a man, and think a woman’s voice will distract you then pick a male reciter! It is very simple. I think the concept of a woman’s voice being sexualized is absolute bullshit personally, and unsupported by both the qur’an and sunnah. This view is something that I’ve always found absolutely shocking, particularly because this is not a christian practice.

Judgement.

I don’t know many people that are catholic and actually know about their religion. Instead, I was exposed to individuals who went to church on Sunday, walked straight out, and made racist comments. My experience of the muslim community, however flawed, is that even if they judge (under the cover of haram policing; aka. “leading you to the truth”) they know that judging other people, backbiting, and slander is not permissible in Islam. This value is something that is fortunately often discussed at religious gatherings, and to me, it represents perhaps more authentic practice. For example, I was once coming back from a religious conference in a car with a sister who literally stopped the discussion in the back of her vehicle about how the religious speaker’s voice could have been improved. That to me, is living out your faith. I had never experienced something like that with christians. One thing that the two religious groups have in common is judging each other’s faiths without truly knowing much about them. Muslims definitely know more about Christianity than christians know about Islam. What they lack, however, is an ability to try to see Christian belief from a Christian perspective.

Connection to the divine. 

1. Prayer.

I used to think, “wow, praying 5 times per day on a set schedule. How tedious!” But I think it’s honestly been my greatest blessings since converting. The prayer itself is actually more of worship mixed in with what we would normally view as “prayer” from a Christian lens. The rhythmicity of it all allows it to be a rather mindful exercise. The “call” to prayer is a reminder to prioritize and of the meaning of the word “Islam” itself (to submit to the will of God). We don’t pray when it’s convenient for us, but rather, because we have devotion to something greater. Obviously, this concept was new for me.

2. Jesus culture.

Jesus culture is what I would define as trying to make religion digestible for youth by making the concept of Jesus into something cool, i.e. “Jesus as pop star”. Growing up Catholic this didn’t really happen, so maybe my commentary is directed to other forms of Christianity. As muslims, we still respect and believe in Jesus as a prophet, but we don’t raise this respect to the level of worship. I find it telling that often when people want to insult muslims and Islam they refer to muslims as Muhmmad worshipers or refer to “our God” as Muhammad (astf). It reveals an identification of a human figure with God. Again, prophets are important to our relationship with God, but ultimately, they are not God. This is a concept called shirk in arabic, and it means equating something with God. This is the ultimate sin in Islam.

That being said, I think Jesus culture assists believers in feeling love toward God. Since their God has become so personified, it’s much easier to feel an emotion like love toward another human being than this higher concept of God. Growing up Christian, you just take Jesus as the son of God/also God as something normal. It’s fine if you want to believe that, but to deny that this concept is not problematic theologically, even from a Jewish perspective, is unfortunate.

3. Arabic.

In Catholocism/Christianity, you don’t need to know a certain language. Learning how to pray (the worship ritual prayers) required me to learn those prayers in arabic. But it really isn’t too different from how one learns to pray Our Father. These words are words that are pre-established for us to get certain meaning across. We can do our own prayers using whatever words or language afterwards, but Our Father is kind of a set prayer. The use of Our Father is very similar to the use of Al Fatihah (the first chapter/first few lines of the quran). Eventually, you pick up on terms and use them without thinking. Part of using arabic is because you can convey concepts that you couldn’t adequately describe by translating them into English. Now I am even learning to read the quran in arabic, which is something that I once assumed was impossible.

4. Ritual

I grew up Catholic so I am used to ritual. Nevertheless, I am not going to lie and say that conversion to another faith that employs ritual is easy. It isn’t. Particularly, if you’re trying to hide this new faith from your family members. All I can say is that youtube is a godsend and focusing on intention rather than correctness is very helpful. I have been thinking about creating how-to guides for new reverts and hosting them here, so hopefully that will be beneficial to followers.

5. Gender division

This has been very upsetting and unsettling for me. I understand the reasoning behind the arguments for it but I still find it hard to accept. Growing up and not being exposed to this culturally has a significant impact on how “normal” you find this. For example, certain synagogues also separate by gender in a similar manner. On the one hand, I appreciate being able to focus without distractions. On the other hand, I have extreme hatred for mosques that have dividers for the women constructed in such a way that does not allow me to see the interior of the building, or perhaps worse, is the equivalent of a tool shed. My ideal space is like a gurdwarah, where the genders are separate but side by side. I know a lot of people argue that more men tend to come to the mosque, therefore, they need more space. But I also wonder whether more women would come to the mosque if there was a comfortable space for them. This absolutely isn’t an issue at every mosque, but it’s enough of a problem that there is even a blog created–Side Entrance–that documents the various women’s mosque entrances and spaces across the world. If I don’t feel comfortable in a religious space, I simply don’t go there again. I don’t need to spend my time feeling angry rather than in peace.