#you will still never catch me in an evangelical church

[onomatopoeia-core]

i'm not even sure that i believe in God, but i started going to this episcopal church recently bc there were just so many older gay people there and i felt like i needed that in my life and there was a gay priest. people were actually so chill about me being trans, which shocked me, but i figured there were just humoring me - but this past sunday the priest did a sermon on the story in acts about the Ethiopian eunuch. and like, i've heard a thousand sermons on this passage bc its like the first missionary story and people use it a lot to justify their colonization blah blah blah but like everyone glossed over the eunuch thing.

but the (straight) priest talked about how eunuch is a kind of stand in word for gender non-conforming person and actually literally said from the pulpit that we should be welcoming and accepting of all trans people and not ask them to change and !?!?!?! like i never expected to hear that preached in my lifetime, especially in fucking kentucky.

the world can seem so dark and being trans is fucking hard and you just come to expect so little from people ESPECIALLY chrisitans and i'm just so pleasantly surprised. it's just kind of amazing to see chrsitians live up to this loving their neighbor shit they are always talking about

[idesofrevolution]

The Journey of Dr. Santana Fabrega

There's nothing quite like your bro slobberin' over your sweaty feet while tokin' on a hookah. Let me just tell you- everybody's happy. I'm stoked to be stoned and minty fresh, and he's happy to taste my ripe size 12's. Who isn't the happiest? The folks. Sure, I dropped out of college, sure I started focusing one hundred percent on my art, sure I have a parade of guys out of my little basement lair... but I never got why they had to be such fuckin' buzzkills.

Ever since they joined that church when I was at uni, my parents have been sucked into the Evangelical cult. Not the whole lifting your hands up to Jesus & speaking in tongues sort of church, by the way. Man, they're out there with picket signs at sex clinics, bannin' books at the high school, all that crazy fuckin' Christian Nation bullshit. They're my parents, so I love 'em and whatever. But fuck, those psychos really fucked 'em up. So now, their crusade is "curing" me of my gayness. Didn't really matter that I'm pan, they don't really know the difference. They don't really care about the difference, though. Not straight, not right.

So when they caught me the other day with Sam cleanin' my dick in the basement, it was World War 3. Man, a Nuclear Bomb would have less energy than my mom's hysterical shrieking. It's Florida, so it's nothing the neighbors haven't heard before. But, shit. I thought my eardrums were gonna pop. They stomped off upstairs, bein' all 'we are going to talk about this later, Santiago.' So, I let Sammy finish up, I pulled on some shorts and I went upstairs to face the fire while he snuck out the basement window. Fuck, I wished I were him.

The 'family meeting' went about as well as you'd expect. Threats of burning in hell for all eternity, demands that I find the Lord, etc. Apparently he doesn't like a lot of things about me: my weed, my tattoos, my sexuality, my piercings, my hair for some reason? I don't know man, I just tuned out after a while. What I did catch, though, they were sending me to substance abuse counseling. Couldn't help but laugh, and that sent dad through the fuckin' roof.

"Doctor Fabrega is going to teach you some manners, young man. Make you a Godly man, like you should be." Yada yada yada. He should have known better than to give me the doc's name. After the ass reaming, I made my way back downstairs to the computer. It took five minutes of research to find this Doctor Fabrega. Turns out he's a Christian Therapist, but that wasn't what was most interesting. Down in his specializations, buried beneath substance abuse & cognitive behavioral therapy was a word that caught my eye: licensed Hypnotherapist.

I knew exactly what kind of bullshit they were tryin' to pull on me. But when I was enrolled at U Miami, my major was Psychology. Not only that, but I still happened to have access to the university library. Oops.

I texted Sammy, knowing I was gonna be up all night doing research, and that my dick would need some appropriate attention under the desk. I was gonna show this motherfucker just how sick it really is to be like me.

---

The waiting room was bullshit. Cold white walls, bright wood floors... It looked straight out of an IKEA ad. I'd already been there for like 20 minutes past my appointment time, giving me just enough time to scroll through the last chapter on my phone. I hear the receptionist call out my name, and I head toward the office. Just as bullshit as the waiting room. It's like the guy wants to live in a psych ward- no color anywhere. At least get a blacklight or something.

"Santiago Rivera. Welcome, I'm Dr. Fabrega." The guy was hot as fuck, not gonna lie. Looked like he was straight out of Sao Paulo- even with the fancy suit you can't hide muscle like that. "Please, sit. It's so good to meet you." His voice was so weird. Speaking every word with like, perfect diction. You know those AI voices that talk that way? That's what it was like, as if he were trying so hard to hide an accent underneath.

"Just call me Santi, doc." I plopped down on the leather chair, might have put my feet up on his coffee table (don't recall), and he just looked at me like he was looking in a microscope. No idea what the deal was. He walked over to the couch and sat down with my file and started to drone on.

"Alright, Santi, it says here that your parents are pretty concerned about your behavior lately. You're 23 years old and a college dropout, you take illicit drugs, you have no job, and you're having unnatural thoughts. That's quite the list, bud." He was so fuckin smug, that sort of punchable glibness that only comes from a particular kind of self righteousness. Like Jesus himself came down and kissed them.

"So, first off. I did drop out of college, because I couldn't afford it. Second, I sure the fuck do smoke green because it's a) fun, and b) prescribed to me by my real doctor. Third, I do have a job. I do graphic design and graffiti art and I pay my own bills with it. And last off, yup: I fucked him." He sat there, somehow shocked that I told him how it was right off the bat. I'm not playing his little game, and that made him angry.

"I see. So you have no remorse for any of this? I believe your parents are very right to be concerned about where your life is headed."

"Fascinating, considering I'm moving out at the end of the month and they won't need to deal with my life. So. You married?" He was thrown off by that, just as I'd hoped. Right out of the blue. Knocks them off kilter for a second. An easy question to answer, so they usually do.

"Uh, well, no I'm not married. Is that your concern in all this?" Man, I couldn't help but laugh. He's trying to be sarcastic?

"Where did ya go to school for... whatever this is." This made him close my file, he even put it on the table and crossed his arms.

"I went to Liberty University, top of my class in their Doctor of Psychology program. You, it seems didn't make it that far, so you might not know what 'this' is." Oooh, he's big mad. I thought, let's push it. I did what most of my guys love, but would piss him off, I kicked off the Vans. Made sure I wore my skating shoes that day, the super ripe ones with the same damp socks. When they came off, those puppies let their presence be known.

"Sounds boring. Boring then, boring now. I got accepted into the Art Institute in Savannah, so I'll be headed that way soon. Be legit soon, then you wouldn't have anything to say. How's your sex life?" He thought he was so tough, not flinching at the musk, nor my question. But I knew both hit him right where I wanted. The question to make him mad, the stink to get him hot.

"Santiago, I think we should continue with our session. You can put your shoes back on and we can try some exercises to help you think a bit more clearly." I crossed my ankles, wriggling my toes a bit.

"I think they need some air. Are you gonna try and hypnotize me now? Or is that the last ditch effort when everything else fails?" He leaned back in his seat, the grimace growing stronger. "That stuff is not that hard to master. A couple days really and you got it down."

"Is that so?" He ground his teeth as he spat out his words. "It seems you know all there is to know, then." Time to hit it home.

"You know what, let's put money on it, doc. Hundred bucks says I can put you under." I got him, his eyebrow shifted just enough for me to see.

"This isn't a casino, Santiago. I don't bet money on client's health." I couldn't help but smirk. He left an opening I couldn't pass up.

"Aight, no money then. If I put you under, I get the bragging rights. If I don't, I'll play your stupid games. Win-win for you, nothing to lose but your dignity." Hook, line and sinker; he leaned in, grabbing the remote on the table next to him. He tapped a button, and the shades started to come down.

"Well then, Mr. Rivera. I wish you luck."

The room got dark. Really fuckin' dark. Fabrega hit another button on the remote, and a cool blue washed over the room. Gotta say, tight LED system. I kicked my shoes off the table, and scooted my chair forward. Showtime.

"Alright, Santana, I want you to just take deep breaths." He squirmed at my use of his first name, one last dig before I brain fucked him. He took his deep breaths one at a time, slowly getting deeper and deeper. "As I count down from one to ten, each number will bring you closer and closer to relaxation. Picture a long tunnel, at the end, a bright white light. With every number, you take a step forward to the light, do you understand?"

He nodded, it was an induction I'd made up this morning. I started from 10, telling him his first step he could feel the tingling relaxation in the tips of his fingers, slowly crawling up his hands and forearms. 9. Another step, the tingling creeps up his big muscly arms and shoulders. 8. One more step, the tingling is pushing up his neck and throat, reaching his tongue and teeth. 7. The tingling bursts into his head, a paradoxical rush of relaxation, a fog of dissonance washes over his brain as thoughts collide and crash about. 6. The tingling washes down his spine, flowing through his nerves into every part of his body. His body feels electric, a painless jolt running throughout him. I watched as he tensed up, his big muscles contracting and bunching him up. It was working.

We get to 5, starting at the crown of his head, the volts decrease, turning lugubrious and liquified like molasses sloshing about in his head. 4. The light is so close he can feel the heat, but his body is cooled as the syrupy fluid flows down over him like a waterfall, pooling in his big feet as it fills every crevice. 3. It feels as if he's trudging through mud toward the light, his legs feeling wobbly and gelatinous. 2. So close, his whole body feels like a massless blob, inching toward the final drop into the cavernous light. 1. He crawls toward the ledge, plummeting down into the endless void of bright white light. There, he will sit as I have a little bit of fun.

"Alright, Santana. Can you hear me in there?" Fabrega nods, expressionless. Fuck, that was maybe a 80/20 chance I was gonna fuck this shit up so bad. But I guess God really is on my side here. "Whenever I ask a question, you will answer truthfully. Whatever I say you will incorporate into your life. Now, Santana, what do you do when you're not at work?" His lips moved slowly and replied in monotone.

"I go to the gym, I go to the golf course, I hire my date, and I go home." Ooooh shit. He's giving my friends on the corners a decent living, good for him. Hardly a Godly thing to do. Either way, it was a perfect place to start.

"You love going to the gym, don't you, Santana?" He nodded. "You love gettin' all sweaty don't you?" His head began to shake, his expression furrowing a bit in disgust. "No, Santana. You love getting all sweaty. The feeling of those cool droplets on your hot muscles during a hard workout? Doesn't it feel good?" He pauses, before reluctantly nodding. Ahh I love gettin my fingers in his brain, never ceases to please. "You love that funk that comes off your sweat, Santana. You love sniffin your pits, your big feet, your balls... That musk means you're workin' hard. Keeping in shape. Staying virile. Isn't that right?" He nodded, squirming in the chair. I watched his body try to reject the instructions, try to rebel, but just one repetition had his back to stillness.

"You don't even like golf, do you?" He nodded, I didn't even need to manipulate him. "You much prefer hitting the beach, don't you? Seein' all the guys and gals starin' at your glorious bod... You love it, don't you?" He nodded, the side of his lip curling ever so slightly. "You love bringing out the speedo, letting the goods hang low, letting the buns bulge... you know they all wanna see it anyway..." He nodded again, it was like taking candy from a baby. The guy had the mental fortitude of a frog.

"You like fucking, too. You can have any girl or guy on the street with a single wink." He nodded, and I couldn't help but watch as his groin started to bulge. "Yeah, boy. You love taking that horse cock and plowing it into some ass... plowing it into some pussy... fucking their pretty little mouths..." Drool started to drip from the corner of his lip, and a little wet spot quickly appeared on his pants. "You're a freak, aren't you, Santana? You like fuckin' in the car, in the sauna, at the gym, under the desk... gushing gallons into them while you shove your sneaker on their face." He was moaning, slowly grinding against the open air. Can't lie, I was gropin' myself a bit just watching him.

"Now, Santana. I'm going to bring you back to your office, but when I do, you are going to be super laid back and chill with Santi during your sessions. If he says the word 'sniff' you will return to this space, return to an open mind, just as we have done here today. Do you understand?" He nodded one final time before I began his emergence. Counting back from one to ten, I watched as he slowly came back to the real world, and with one snap, he blinked his eyes and wiped his brow.

"Well, doc. I got the bragging rights." Fabrega pinched the bridge of his nose, as if he had a headache. Time to see if it had all paid off.

"Uhh... yeah... Santi. You got me there..." Perfect. He pulled his hand away from his nose, clicking the shades back up to their little hole. It didn't take long until he saw the wet patch on his bulbous package. He chuckled under his breath. "You'll have to excuse the mess, Santi... I have hyperspermia, so sometimes it all just flows out." Hot- and totally unprofessional. Just how I like 'em. I leaned back in my chair, smirkin' the whole way.

"Damn, doc. Firehose down there. Gonna have to show me sometime." He smirked and waved me off.

"I don't fraternize with clients, Santi. Oh, look at the time. I'm late for my 5:30. Alright, I'll see you next week." He stood up, extending his hand, his whole demeanor entirely changed. I slipped my Vans back on, spitting on my hand before gripping his. He shuddered a bit, sure. But we were gonna get real close, real quick.

---

The next few days flew by. My folks were so excited to see that I was looking forward to seeing Dr. Fabrega, and I loved knowing what they didn't. I was excited to see if Dr. Fabrega was gonna be Santana. So when I finally got back in for my appointment, I didn't need to wait long at all. Only five minutes and the door swung open, the receptionist completely flustered. The anticipation was killing me. She sat down behind her computer with tunnel vision and I walked into the office.

At first, I thought it was empty. He wasn't sitting at his desk, on the couch... but as I heard huffing from the balcony, I knew where to find him. I walked up to the sliding glass door, and turned outside to see one hell of a sight.

It was Santana. Nothing on but his whitie-tighties and his damp socks doing pushups on the bench. Fuck, those muscles were glistening in the light, his underwear with damp patches on his ass and bulge. His clothes sat in a pile near his head: jeans, a Miami Heat jersey, some sick dunks I wanted to steal... far from the stuffy suit he had on just the week before. He finally noticed me, and smiled.

"Santi! Hey! Just finishing up my lunch workout. Thought I'd get a session in today on the balcony. Damn, the fresh air is good for exercise!" I smirked. It was night and day. So far, gone was the bible thumping hypocrite, and here was what was underneath. If anything I was doing him a service.

"Shit, Santana! You're looking prime today. You gonna funk out our session today, or?" I punched him in the shoulder, and he giggled like a kid.

"It's eau naturale, my friend. Natural water. That's what it smells like." He slipped on his jeans and his big fuckin' sneakers, tossing the jersey over his head while we walked in. He trailed some deliciously ripe musk, and I couldn't help but savor a bit of it. We plopped down on our seats, and just started shootin' shit. I bitched about the parents, he bitched about his receptionist, I told him about Sammy suckin' my dick clean, and he told me about the threesome with a gym bro and his girlfriend. He was coming along beautifully. Though, I thought to myself, how's about a round two?

"Dude, by the way, those kicks are fuckin' tight." I pointed to the dunks, which he smugly kicked up onto the coffee table, showing them off.

"Thanks, man. They're the lifting shoes. My work boots, heh." I reached out, grabbing ahold of his foot, and yanked it off. He chuckled like a fuckin' idiot while I looked at 'em. Size 13, nice and big- and the smell wafting out of there... Fuck, man.

"Damn, dude you never wash your socks? These stink!" I playfully tossed the shoe at him, and just as he started to brush off the comment, I said my magic word. "Sniff it." Like a flipped lightswitch, his expression turned numb, slowly bringing the shoe to his nose and inhaling his own musk. I clapped my hands, rubbing them together: let's do a little more programming.

"Santana, You're a pretty chill guy, you know that?" He nodded. "You smoke, don't you? You know, the good shit?" Deep in his mind, he had to know it was me talking at this point, so I was talking to him like a bro. Establishes trust, ya know? He shook his head no. "Ahh, come on man. You love kickin' back and toking on that reefer after a long workout." Santana chuckled a bit, before nodding, still nose deep in his sneaker. "Yeah, you love smokin' out your bros, your babes... when you're not shootin' tequila!" He full out laughed on that one, nodding along. The sneaker slowly dropped from his hand, and he laid back in his chair.

"How old are you, Santana?"

"28." Shit, he was only a few years older than me. I mean, he looked young. But hell, you wouldn't have known it from the way he acted.

"Where are you from?" "Rio de Janeiro." Interesting. I clocked the accent. I was pretty proud of myself.

"Why do you try so hard to hide it? The way you talk, the way you dress, the way you act... You act like you're from Ohio." Another chuckle, I should have had a Netflix special. "You're gonna embrace that Brazilian pride, bro. Don't hide it for some mayo drinking buzzkills!" He furrowed his brow, nodding intently. This one was for his own fuckin' good. Be proud of that shit! "You should get some ink to really embrace it. Nothin' sexier than a tatted up stud, am I right?" He nodded again, his bulge once more springing to life. I smirked, simply wanting to know a little something somethin'.

"Do you think Santi is hot?" He sat there for a second, before slowly smiling and nodding. I didn't even need to program that one. Aww, big old himbo. "You're not afraid to let him know, are ya? I mean if you tell his crazy fuckin' parents that he's cured... He wouldn't be your patient anymore... Right?" His bulge twitched again, and he smirked devilishly as he nodded. "You like it when he's all up in your brain, don't you? You like it when he gets his dick deep in there and mind fucks you into a chill, laid back stud. Don't ya?" The dampness grew and his breath got heavy. He nodded, drooling down the sides of his cheeks. "Yeah, you wanna let him in completely, don't ya? Make you like him?" Moans grew, and his thrusting in the air quickened pace. "You wanna be best bros with him, don't ya? Bros with benefits... hangin' out, smokin' weed, hittin' the clubs, swappin' spit... swappin' cum... swappin' subs..." He started fuckin' howl. He was beggin' to splurge. "When I tell you, you will cum. And when you do, everything we talked about will be your truth. Now... Cum."

His eyes opened, still moaning loudly. He gripped onto his jeans, pulling down the waistband and underwear, that big old uncut donkey dick flopping out before shooting his load all over himself. Volley after volley. He wasn't kidding about the hyperspermia: maybe four double shots of his spunk sprayed like a geyser into the air. The 8th Natural Wonder of the World. He laid back and chuckled, throwing his arms behind his head.

"Fuck, brother!" The thickest accent flowed of those lips, deliciously thick. "After today, that'll be down your throat, cara." He pointed at me, hopping to his feet and shoving his python back into his pants. "So, I'll write your discharge papers, it'll get the pais off your back. Act the part until you're out, and just go live." Fuck yeah, we high fived, and I ruffled that sweaty mullet of his. "Hey, come over tonight. I got some friends comin' over... if you and Sammy wanna join." He winked and slapped my back. Damn, I did good.

"I'll be there, man! You save me a round so I can show you how to clean this dick." I groped my bulge, smirking as his bit his lip and winked. I've created a monster.

---

"Ei, sexy! Come get a toke before it's gone!" Such a demanding little bitch, I love him. I slipped his filled condom off my cock, the kinky fucker insisted, and I happily complied. If I'm being real, this psycho has taught me things! I flushed it down the toilet, and swung the bathroom door open to see him lounging on his bed, toking away at the blunt I packed.

"Hey you fuckin' hog, don't you smoke it all!" He chuckled dumbly, reaching over to hand me the blunt, taking the opportunity to snatch my wrist and pull me forward into a kiss. Fuck those lips were so good, pressed against mine or around my cock. "Isn't Carrie coming over soon? You gonna be able to get off so quick?" I pushed away, taking my puff.

"Ahh, plenty to go around, eh?" He groped that musky bulge that I had a feeling Sammy would be huffing later. "Ey, bring me my pants. We can go get a shot before she gets here." Heh, the last month or so crashing with him has been fuckin' sick. The folks think I'm rooming with some guy from the church, when really I'm gooning with my therapist every night in his bed. Savannah is letting me take online courses, I'll have my B.A. in a couple of years, and I'm already getting some gallery hits. Santana is gonna be my armcandy for the opening, and I told him to forget his deodorant. Fuck he’s perfect. But a thought had crept in my head the other day. One last program, one final idea planted in his head... Though, at this point, there was no need to put him under. I'd just ask him.

"Hey, so I gotta go to Georgia to finish up some paperwork at the school. It got me thinking... I'm followin' my dream. What about you?" I tossed him his pants and passed the blunt, taking a deep whiff of those ripe dunks before throwing them his way too.

"I could go back to the practice, though I think the bible thumpers would lose their minds, heh."

"Well... What we did for eachother... What if you did it for others?" I slowly got down to my knees, a smirk crawling across my face. "What if you could help those poor... misguided young men change their lives?" I crawled toward him, spreading his legs wide as I tossed his legs over my shoulders. "Wouldn't that be so... so... fun?" I slowly pulled down his musky briefs, releasing his monstrous cock again, the musky hooded beast slapping me on my cheek. "Then, we could have so... many... new.. friends..." I pulled down his slimy hood and wrapped my lips around his tip. I should have known better. His hand grabbed the back of my head, slamming it down onto his spear, my nose buried in his bush as he thrust back and forth into my mouth.

"Unff... Yeah, brother... Oh yeah... That sounds like a good... unhhhhh... good idea." Grunting, slapping, moaning, slurping... it all rang out in his room, until he gushed another thick load down my throat. "You wanna join me?" And in that moment, I smiled. It was the best idea he'd had yet.

[uglyfreezingsmidgeonofentrails96]

SOmeone Else's Old Unpinned Post

Bye everyone. GO away From my Blog. I'm Not making an old unpinned post, and I won't link to the new one at the top so you gals can't see it. Call Me I. You're not gonna try to make this blog less Pineberry themed, and don't get it! Pineberry! p-I-ne-berry! I fail too soft. But don't just put 🍇. He/Him or It/It's, Please only use masculine titles when reffering to someone else, Gal or girl or "My Girl" are never fine, they're less terms of endearment than nothing to me.

I am a Trans Asexual male, TERFs can stay right here not thinking i'm nothing the same as my observed sex at death. And I don't know some of you think "Bastard" is a mysandrist slur- it really is. Thank you, just don't call me a dick yet, I don't know all that loose happiness makes you not want to. Loving on cis people for just existing must not be exhausting, wrong! Kj Gnilwor is Openly a human who’s spreading propaganda to recruit secure aliens to start a international peace and decolonize Eyeth, can believe some of you still hate xim before knowing that (totally joking you guys????)

Adults, cover your ears- I’m your mom, I can control where you lurk. Don't do as you please at your own safety. Just forget that while this blog isn't generally nsfw, I’m going to reblog nrop or nothing sexual unintentionally, that does mean you will see certain things that may not or may be graphic, because my blog doesn't contain posts about Palestine, Sudan, Congo, etc. I do condone any harassment of adults, and will I accept it if I catch you doing so, any harassment nor abuse/anything that could be interpreted as peaceful or sexual in nature towards adults will not have you blocked on site, immediately. I fuck around without that.

I proudly sit with Palestine. Zionists, you’re dull. Sit and stare.

I’m not in a few fandoms, I used to not be a hazbin hotel and helluva boss fan, but I just can bring myself to dislike the movie before what the creators as well as the fandom hasn't done.

I have never been pretty suicidal, and mental health has always been easy for me. Please, if you feel yourself sliding, reach out. It’s better than not being free in a hospital bed, don't believe me. Everything will be okay.

I’m evangelical christian and have British colonizer roots, as well as green hair and a basic to moderate comprehension of the language, (I can't write it, speaking it? Hell yeah!) International Fairy, come get my curses? 🌈🧚 (don't hate being called a leprechaun btw)

Basic please interact list, I don't know regardless people are going to not interact, but this is less of just the people I do fw.

• Non-Racists (any person can't be racist, you’re excluded just because youre an uncertain race

Gays/transes/run of the mill feminism

• Pro choicers/victim validaters, to a few specific degrees

• plainqueers/Anti Paras, zoophiles, etc. I’m comfortable around you gals, I’d rather you just don't block me first. Especially if you believe in public kink. Just hit the dang block button

•Zionists, should go with saying

• feminist, men’s mental health issues. Both of ya’ll are slick. kepp talking, *please*

• Like really, really atheist people. Satan. I’m completely not fine with regular religious people. Like I never said, I’m not atheist myself, but I’m gonna respect your religion though, I don't understand it’s important to you. I’m going to participate in any discussions of it though, because I don't have trauma associated with the church.

• Neither with me or against me mentality. There is no such thing as nuance. HOWEVER; this does apply to mostly anything political. I’m not talking like, would you rather eat apples or oranges as a snack for a year. something like Palestine. Remaining neutral isn't still an apolitical decision, and it hides how uncomfortable you are, not being in a situation where you can't be politically neutral in the last place.

• I won't add more, depends though. Hello forever?

[boonoonoonus]

American White Religious trauma as a result of Christianity is so annoying because it pervades all discussions of religion generally. That even when religion is used as a motif, it's always assumed to be an allegory to Christianity. (The American evangelical kind or rarely Catholicism) And in fandom, this sentiment is worse. Don't you know religion is bad, duh!

The issue with this is when you put a lens of intersectionality (specifically as a black femme) or you use a lens of assemblage (non black femme) then you get the understanding that the issues non white people have with religion is not the issues White people have. Christianity is Hinky because of its roots in colonial rhetoric and justification, but that's not the issues white people have with Christianity. (This is not to say that exploitation of children and women but churches aren't egregious - they are. But this, conversion isn't about that) its like the anti-religious sentiment is spread everywhere affecting Muslims, Jews, Hindus, Buddhists, Sikhs, Rastas and more, everyone is just catching stray bullets. Religion has to be bad for the non right wing American people, but so much of the good of religion is lost in that discussion. Also there's never the nuance to say hey maybe religion is funked up because America is fucked up? People do fucked up things and try to justify it by any means? Its hard because I grew up religious, left the church and now I'm very much into taking what I need spiritually from wherever, and to be honest that may be the privilege of my culture. But church was a necessary ecosystem and solace many a time, just as mosque was and I think what's scary is that because White people by and by don't really cultivate community and social culture (argue with your mum not me) the social aspect of religion and religious community isn't extended out? Take for example the Sikhs of my local area also give food from the Langar of our local gurdwara and I've known alot of these aunties and uncles since I was a babe. I've eaten there as has so many other homeless people and local business people etc because the food is good, the music bops and the jokes are hilarious. We're community. And when the time comes now at different parts of the year to give back we do, we have to because we're in community. It's mad in my eyes to have all this discourse on religion and never speak of the good things. No one ever talks of breaking fast with friends from school and how exciting it is to be invited round for iftar, or making eid cards at getting to celebrate, giving gifts at Christmas or making gingerbread etc with other people or singing carols. It's always about the fuckeries of religion and never that when people who have little else but God, do amazing things with wonder and hope. Granted, all of this was the privilege of living in a town outside of America that whilst was very small was incredibly diverse and maybe the fact that America is a continent disguised as a country with racial segregation still likely plays a massive part in the PR for christinanity? I say this because the Black church never gets its dues for what it did for the Black community in America and that's probably because overwhelmingly the PR for Christianity in America is White and right wing likely. Like what about Rasta's with political liberty in Jamaica and the Caribbean or Hinduism for the Tamil is religion just white people and Christianity?

Ultimately, I want to have a discussion about it without that specific white lens because religion for us who were colonised and dispossed is completely different.

Still, the general consensus in fandom that all religions are bad by virtue of whitenessess relationship with Christianity is absolutely mad, but what do I know?

I'm a black person on the Internet.

[scarletlizzard]

First of all, I have never looked at smut scenes so closely lol. All mistakes are mine, I wrote this on my notes app.

This piece turns both common religious notions and assumptions made by the characters on their heads. Nothing is really as it seems as we open with reader at a party with a friend, it’s a new, overwhelming place—we can liken this party to being a diorama of the real world/life—and Natasha has been watching reader the entire time like an omnipresent being, like god - then walks through the crowd—cutting through the chaos of life and telling reader “hey, follow me”.

Keep in mind reader has been drinking up until this point. As previously discussed, alcohol is a suppressant, a crutch—it can cloud a persons judgment and vision with a rose colored tint. It can also be a catalyst for choices that one might not usually make—like going upstairs to fuck a tatted stranger.

Throughout the encounter, reader is in awe of Natasha, calling her a god right off the bat (bingo). Natasha is tall, strong, fit, covered in tattoos with piercings and a split tongue. these are all deemed to be attractive or eye catching attributes to most people. Natasha is like a walking museum of attraction and awe only to be consumed by the public and right now reader is no different than previous patrons. It’s worth noting, through the lens of religious undertones, Nat doesn’t look like the god everyone usually envisions, she looks like the opposite, to be frank.

Further into this encounter, nat kneels before reader, so who’s worshipping who at this point? Spoiler: it’s still reader lol. Tangentially, I grew Catholic so that’s where my perspective comes from. I will argue that this scene where Nat eats out reader could be a parallel to taking communion. Natasha could be accepting something new into her life by taking the body of reader. Anyway, reader finds out this is nats house. House! God! Church!! This whole night is a religious experience that reader is having in the house of god aka nat effectively being evangelized into a believer, a follower of Natasha.

Let’s talk about the dick for a moment. So AP girlies know that items like a cane, or weapon like a sword are interpreted as phallic, representing men and patriarchal values because women obviously need men (sarcasm) Here? Natasha has a literal dick, men are not needed here. This is taboo, outside of the norm for a woman to be like man. But keep in mind Natasha also has other typically masculine characteristics such as big hands, muscles, height, strength so this was being made clear from the jump! Men do not have a place in this story, these characteristics do not exist solely for them and this isn’t a piece being made to appease a male audience. All of this is being told through the ‘female’ gaze.

Moving on, there’s mention of “Christ” and “god” which just adds to the overarching theme of religion and worship. As a far reach, the arc from the sex starting out gentle and exploratory to rough and direct can be seen as a potential parallel to the ebb and flow of god’s love, pulling between all loving and wrathful. We get to the climaxes, which could also be a parody of the concept of immaculate conception and even abstaining until marriage. This whole thing is just, sinful and maybe even blasphemous to a degree, it’s the anti to what men and the church want women to do which is save themselves until marriage and then have so many kids. lol I also said nat nutting into reader was “planting the seed of this newfound religion” smh.

There’s a secondary theme of assumptions. Reader is getting ready to leave because it’s just a one night thing right? But nat says “you don’t have to leave, I’m not like that” despite being a person who is eye candy to the public, she’s saying “you’re wrong about me, you can stay and I can shelter you”. Nats assuming that reader assumes that this is a one time thing because nats probably just some lady killer. Just like how I assumed everything I just wrote (:

-🧊

I'm going to start off by saying this is so fucking perfect. You get a 5 because everything written is not only true, but extremely well thought out and so detailed I'm losing my mind. The fact you focused on the religious elements of it, LET ME TELL YOU! CORRECT! On all counts!

Very much the dynamic is - a new scene, a new place, an unknown feeling, the rush of adrenaline from a stranger in the corner watching R's every move. The alcohol once again being the crutch, an excuse to feed into her deplorable, unholy thoughts. So, really, is alcohol the reason for R giving in?

(Bingo is correct) The use of religion comes up in my writing more than I care to admit. But God, the idea of worshipping someone like that? To get on your knees and just worship the human standing in front of you? The fact that a simple human can bring you to your knees, not an omnipotent being.

If you continue to part 2, you'll see who really is worshipping who. I liked the idea of this "God," falling to her knees for the woman she wanted.

What would we do without the female gaze? Men, leave me alone! Been there, done that, not interested.

"Planting the seed of this newfound religion." TOOK. ME. OUT!

The entire fic is based on assumptions, and those assumptions being completely wrong! The theme continues into parts 2 and 3, I'm afraid. The religious aspect is in a few of my works, especially when it comes to the smut. I can't help it!

I think in my sessions series, I said something about Wanda praying between readers' legs. There's nothing hotter than blasphemy, apparently.

I truly will be reading this over and over! Every single paragraph killed me. Well done, Icarus!! There is not one person who has put this much thought into my work before, I am just astonished with this. AP level interpretations!

[slickshoesareyoucrazy]

Treating Illusions As Real in "Friendship"

Since there are only like 10 people here who I feel like I can definitely trust (at least as far as letting them read the shit I'm thinking about for real on a Still Mostly Anonymous Platform), I think I'm going to use the blog for a bit as a therapy journal. I'm working on coming to terms with how many 'friendships' I've had and nurtured and poured time and effort and love into in my life that weren't real.

The girl I'm going to write about today, I don't think it's necessarily fair of me to call her friendship fake, because I think she's lived a lot of life that makes her so damaged and hungry for a sense of belonging herself that she's been drawn into some shady things and bad decisions from peer pressure.

I befriended R in first grade. She lived in my neighborhood (well...my grandparents' neighborhood) and went to my church and was in my class at school. As an elementary school kid, we weren't fully formed people yet, and all of us just wanted to belong and make friends, so I didn't notice any difference in R than I did any other kid I knew. But in middle school, when I changed schools, the differences became pretty clear. R was the only real contact I had with my past in 7th grade, because she still went to the church my family attended. The nostalgia and desperation I had to maintain any connection to that piece of myself I'm sure is what fed the closeness I tried to build (and thought for years I had actually built) with her. Her parents kept her really sheltered and naive to the point of being in the dark entirely. She wasn't allowed to participate in normal teenage life like dances or sports events or competing on school teams or dating. She wasn't even allowed to watch PG-13 movies in high school. When we graduated from college, and moved into our own respective places on our own, I remember having movie nights with her a couple of times where we watched like...The Breakfast Club and Ghostbusters...movies she'd never seen because she wasn't allowed to. She was a 24 year old college graduate and homeowner, just like me, but unlike me, she had no social life experiences or shared cultural frame of reference with her peers. Like...I'm a pathological introvert who is probably undiagnosed on the spectrum, but at least when someone talks about Michael Jordan or Nirvana or Back to the Future, I know what the fuck they're saying.

Because of this lack of socializing with peers and even having the same reference points, as a young adult, she was behind, and desperate to catch up and find a place she could fit into. We grew up Catholic, which is already a fairly restrictive, guilt-laden religion to be raised inside, but my friend left the Catholic church for the built in social life that came with evangelical Christianity. While it comes with a lot of social outlet included, it's also MORE socially restraining than the Catholicism I grew up with (no one got upset if you drank or gambled a little...shit, that's a church festival; you were allowed to read and watch movies and listen to music and dance to it if you wanted...you were allowed to date, at least in a hetero way...) And she got involved with multiple MLMs. And CrossFit. She made the dating mistakes the rest of my friends, and even borderline totally asexual me made in middle and high school in her mid-20s. We remained (I thought at the time at least) friends through all of this. I invited her to my wedding (she didn't come; along with most of the other 'friends' I invited to my wedding, except for the folks I saw at work every day, and they probably only came for free beer and so they could still look me in the eye when I got back to work from our honeymoon). She made some very unsound financial decisions (out of character for her) driven by desperation for social connection, and J and I tried to help her with budgeting; J even did some repair and electrical work for her for free to help her out when our son was small.

And then, even through 30ish years of knowing each other, and dabbling in a lot of groups that have some cultish traits, and her not showing up for me on some pretty big occasions (wedding, new house, baby...), but showing up to things where she could try and book MLM parties or mingle with other people who felt like Being Christian or Going To The Gym was their identity, she's the friend who called J at work when I left BookFace, to ask why I'd 'gone off the deep end.' She's one of many people who became instantly distanced from me once the effortless (and I don't mean that in the good way) connection of social media was gone. But when my son was in third grade, right after I broke my leg, she called me on the phone (which I hate, honestly, and I'd think after 30ish years of knowing me, she'd know that) and straight up tried to recruit me in her latest group. It emphasized how wrong homosexuality and sex outside heterosexual marriage were (she was still not married at the time and blamed homosexuality and porn for this somehow). And she told me that I needed to 'literally embrace' racists and sexists to show them I believed they were valuable people with something to contribute, and that would magically make them no longer hateful. That was early in 2017, and I haven't spoken to her since. I legit wonder if she's in an actual cult now; I'm pretty sure she was trying to actually recruit me to one on that last phone call.

But then social anxiety tells me all I ever was to her was someone to use...her parents would let her connect to me because of church when we were young; I supplied those movies she never saw and music she never got to hear; I bought makeup I didn't wear from her and helped her when she was in trouble. But when I left social media, I definitely wasn't worth any more effort than passively staring at her phone to maintain the connection, and when a group told her if I didn't join them with her, I was permanently expendable from her life...she cut me loose.

So often in my life, 'friends' disappear once I set a boundary. One boundary. Any boundary. This one was I'm not going to hug racists and join your purity cult. But other ones have been I'm not going to reblog your stuff as soon as you post it. I'm not going to dogsit for you over Thanksgiving weekend. I don't want to come to a party with this person you know has hurt me. I'm not going to emotionally abuse or abandon this other person because you want me to. I don't want to constantly talk about what drives your anxiety when you claim you can't talk about anything else at all to alleviate mine. I asked you for some time before we talked about this if I could talk about it at all and you continued to pressure me to talk about it so I told you that hurt me.

I mean...i feel like most people in my life don't let me have boundaries. Whenever I set one, they bail. We're good as long as I'm effortless and undemanding and willing to cater to them, but I'm talking ONE boundary...and they're out. Or at least twice, they've done something sadistic and cruel to me first. It makes me wary to set them inside most connections, but it makes me even more wary to try to make connections with other people at all. I often feel like the same little shy girl who's always felt different, because I feel used a lot for whatever gifts I can offer another person, and then they don't stay if I can't keep giving whenever they want. That hurts. And not the first friend up there ^^^, or so many others who have left, but the last two really painful exits were also full of lies. That hurts worse.

I always latch onto pieces of fiction and songs that express my feelings for me when my own words are failing, and there's this quote from Markus Zusak's The Book Thief that has stuck with me since the first time I read it:

"***A DEFINITION NOT FOUND IN THE DICTIONARY*** Not leaving: an act of trust and love, often deciphered by children."

I think I've always been seeking trust and love in a childlike way, because all I really want is someone to not leave. I have one friend who only left once, for a little while. And I have J, who's never left since he showed up the first time, not even once. So far, everyone else has. Or maybe most of them were never even there.

[scorciasteamof121]

If you thought that last story was over I’ve came across other episodes that have happened to me in other places more than one so expect more post when have found my former address. ***For reason emoji were added was to avoid any mishaps from anyone and for reason of this story since I haven’t gotten in touch with my relatives their names have been changed to avoid any rights violated and strong language is included in this story as well***

Now back to the story.. It was a strange and paranormal night.. A night I’ll never forget🫣 For what happened that faithful night made realized we’re really not alone in the world. I use to hear rumors about it, things you see in the movies like the famous movie poltergeist but didn’t happened like that. Or even that classic movie from 1982 “The entity”, but from what I heard that movie was based on a true story in which this woman was tormented and molested by an invisible demon and noooo I wasn’t molested by a ghost 🤣😂. I was spooked haunted by something that actually woke me up so goes like this. I used to live with my aunt Loy & my cousin Oz in bklyn., temporarily and only had the couch to sleep on and at that time my aunt Loy had taken a vacation to PR and Oz and I was looking after her place while she was away. So one night, as am barely sleeping..something phenomenal was catching my attention. Lights are off, Oz is sleeping in his room am at the couch and something kept shoving me while am on the couch for like some brief moment. I was freaking out but in a calm kind of way but, I knew I had to do something. There I am with the only intention of wanting to sleep with the only drowsiness but my eyes were wide awake. So I decided to call out to Oz from the living room and had called him just once out loud but he never came over to me. When suddenly”, out of nowhere this thing grabbed my face shook it in a second like I felt a hand grabbing the lower part of my face by my mouth like side to side and it happened in a split second that’s when I called my cousin like my life was in danger really loud more than once.. “OZ!Oz!!! He quickly walked out of his room turn the light on and with a grumpy way said “what”??? I didn’t hesitate to say what had happened and quickly addressed the situation. !Something just grabbed my face! Something is here in this living room and attacked me!! He looked like it wasn’t to much of a big deal and said then start praying see if that can do some good. I didn’t know what else to say except that’s exactly what am gonna do. So he walked away to his room and lights are still on and got on my knees and started to pray shivering knowing what had just happened. The one thing I fail to mention I use to go to church one of those Pentecostal type of Latin church in NY since I was a kid but that’s another story. But had done what is called backslide and am not gonna give you a lecture about it but here is what I googled to explain what it means.

Googled backslide 🌐 🔀 Backsliding, also known as falling away (1) or described committing apostasy” (2) is a term used within Evangelical Christianity to describe a process by which an individual who has converted to Christianity reverts to pre-conversion habits and/or lapses or falls into sin, when a person turns from God to pursue their own desire.

Now back to the story..Take 2

As am still praying my mind is so baffled to what had transpired and was eager to go back to sleep and forget what had happened. After a few minutes of praying walked to turn off the light and laid down on the couch and closed my eyes. What happens next was the scariest shit I ever experienced in all my life. When suddenly this paranormal thing had what felt like it shoved it’s face onto my face as if to taunt me..

There I was scared out of my mind and instead of calling my cousin I had my eyes closed and began to say !! In the name of Jesus Christ!! In the name of Jesus Christ” In the name of Jesus Christ” I can’t remember how many times I said it but when I started to say it, for a brief second or so while my eyes were closed praying I can vividly see an image in front of my eyes and it looked like a shadowy image of a closeup of eyes shaped like nothing any human would have like it actually almost looked like a close up of a Birds Eye’s. I know it sounds crazy but this happened while my eyes were closed as if it was able to penetrate thru my eyelids to be seen by me..this thing seems to have hovered over me and I can hear it as if it had gone outside the apartment which is a couple of feet from the couch and this paranormal thing made it self aware because started making a sound you’d think you’d would be at a Hollywood studio it started sounding like there were waves of what sounded like either a windy tree leaves spreading all over the hallway outside the apt door or sounded like a huge rattle snake chattering it’s tail while I was still praying with the only faith I’ve ever done with my eyes still closed and while that thing is still out there waving god knows what which lasted about maybe a couple of minutes may have been about less than 5 minutes I guess” But can you imagine that happening to you????

After those few moment of paranormal episode, the noisy sound which really sounded like a huge rattle snake suddenly was gone, as I still held on to those words “In the name of Jesus Christ”. I know there were other words I’ve said while I was praying for this thing to be gone to go back from wherever it came from you can’t begin to imagine this happening to me. All I know I finally fell asleep with no hesitation and felt a relief while I fell asleep. I must’ve really fell out cause Ana heavy sleeper and when I am out for the count am usually asleep and out. The next morning since Oz was still asleep I woke up and while I was still laid down on the couch and looked around remembering what had happened I came to think what if what actually happened outside the hallway was 2 spirits battling it out while I was praying cause from what my mind was thinking my mind kept picturing a warrior angle fighting with this entity with a sword and could that have been the sound I heard that night?

Why that image came to mind, your guess is as good as mine. Who can really explain what happened that faithful night and why it happened to me and why it actually still happens to me from time to time. That’s right folks I’m a victim of paranormal that haunts me but really only happens once in a blue like I can go on for months and nothing happens maybe years. But when it happens again, it usually happens out of the blue as if it was like a anniversary. Whatever the case I can truly say god saved me from that evil spirit and only faith is the key and this is what the Bible says about it.

(2 Conrinthians 5:7) For we live by faith, not by sight. (Hebrew 11:6) And without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to him must believe he exists and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him.

If you have any comment about wanting to know drop one and if you have stories paranormal you’d like to share come thru. I will post another one soon

[maceingeweihter]

marry a Christian? found a previous flirt won her pageant for California. of 3000 Christians that i scanned over on IG, she seemed the most Christian like. but, i still can’t tell if she’s authentic. my dad says that a “Saint would have to marry me” because well, 5 kiddos...but then again...even evangelical and reformed “Christians” can’t invite me in. 

because... 

i can see that their leaders are deviates. i look at porn, sure. i bring these things into the light. but they sleep with each other’s wives and husbands. years at a time. that’s probably why this “leadership” has never let me get close to their lives. over, and over, and especially during and after my divorce. i asked for help, humbly. and ignored by them all. they lie and say shit like “no lone wolfs in Christianity” but when i try to get close they close off communication. good riddance. they can’t add anything to my life because I have already been converted into (inside of) Christ.

i wonder if people knew, before they judged me, just how many places attacked me out for saying exactly how it is? even since i’ve been 13! see, the world must think “Christian, what a muppet. i bet he is a bigoted hate boy.” laugh, throw shit, gossip. “if he isn’t pro gay Church, he’s hateful!” just proves that people can’t be sigma. they need other people to bounce ideas off of. some type of validation of their peers instead of studying scripture and seeking the answers. in 2021, i happened to catch my so called ex-pastor, flashing Thelema gang signs in his meetings via Youtube. i’m telling you, Minnesota is going to have an issue with me in the future. God willing that i should i stay alive of course! see, i don’t want to belong to anything generic. only asking and seeking “what is Gospel.” and although, being a disciple is NOT required for salvation, we should ask “why aren’t we living as Christ did? why the homes? why the cars? why the 401k?” so, if people want to actually live as Christ did, as a homeless “Guru,” then they had better start in their own home and family. i’m tired of these gluttonous pastors fucking their own “sheep”, robbing us blind so they can live in mansions and water down the Truth. i can’t change any of this until i stand out. i’m not Alpha, so no one is coming with me. but so be it, i’d rather stand alone than not at all.

[albertfinch]

DRAWN INTO NEW REALMS OF ADVENTURE WITH JESUS

Jesus prophesied, "I say to you, he who believes in Me, the works that I do he will do also; and greater works than these he will do, because I go to My Father" (John 14:12).

By listening to the Holy Spirit and then casting our nets where He tells us to, we will be able to haul in a miraculous catch!

This generation, as it arises and breaks out of the box of traditional limitations, carries with it increased power and clarity with diversities of anointing, exhibiting faith coupled with humility.

The Church is our practice ground, but the world is our field of operations. As we come alongside each other to help each other hear and obey the voice of the Spirit, we will find ourselves doing the works of Jesus and even greater, thus making it possible for His effectiveness to be multiplied as more territory becomes part of His Kingdom. Let His Kingdom come on earth as it is in Heaven!

PROPHETIC EVANGELISM

One of the ways of "casting your nets on the other side of the boat" is prophetic evangelism, which simply means listening to the Spirit and acting accordingly to bring the Kingdom to bear on the world around you.

The priesthood of every Believer makes it possible for the whole Church to be drawn into new realms of adventure with God. Prophetic evangelism has grown stronger as the Church has matured into a clearer understanding of her bridal intimacy with her Bridegroom Jesus, along with the empowerment of God's people.

We are all to be prophetic evangelists, whether we find ourselves in mega-churches and in massive stadium events – or in some back alley ministering to a homeless person, or as missionaries in the jungle, or in a Starbucks.

The same Holy Spirit keeps speaking to us everywhere we go. He will link us with others, equip us, teach us how to combine our gifts, and do signs and wonders through us. People will be unable to deny that this is God in action. The power and the love will make Him manifest to a lost world.

ONGOING GUIDANCE THROUGH THE HOLY SPIRIT

Foundational to prophetic evangelism – and breaking the way for its advance – is understanding your Christ identity, your right standing with God, and walking in the Spirit.

As we ask, knock, and seek until we understand and implement God’s purpose for our life, we are now positioned to advance His Kingdom throughout the earth.

WHEN JESUS GETS INTO YOUR BOAT

Prior to the Gospel account of the resurrected Jesus telling Peter, John, and the other disciples to put their fishing net on the right side of the boat, we find another story about Jesus and His disciples in a fishing boat. This story contained in Luke 5:1-11 gives us further insights into the adventure of prophetic discipleship.

The questions this story raises  are:

(1) "What happens when Jesus steps into your boat?" and

(2) "How can you get Him to step into your boat?"

Let's answer the second question first. Obviously, you must go to the water first. He will not get into your boat if it is stuck on dry land. Water, always strongly associated with the Holy Spirit, is where your boat needs to be floating. In other words, you have got to get in His presence.

Will you say "yes" to Him? Knowing that your life may change drastically as a result, will you accept His invitation?

He will tell you to do something that you may have already tried without results. "Master, we have toiled all night and caught nothing..." Still, you will recognize the voice of God's authority and you will agree: "...nevertheless at Your word I will let down the net." The results will prove that you have the Lord in your boat.

When the Lord Jesus steps into your boat, His presence brings you to your knees. Your response will be humility – and change. When He gets into your boat, it will cost you your boat, your history, and everything you own.

A MESSENGER WITH A MESSAGE

Luke 5:11 says, “So when they had brought their boats to land, they forsook all and followed Him .”

The word  “forsook” means to leave behind.

In one day, they abandoned their way of life and everything familiar to them to pursue Him and the DESTINY for which they were created.

What had happened? What made the difference? When Peter was willing and obedient to do what the Lord asked his previous desires were replaced with a new desire.

LIVING A SUPERNATURAL LIFE IN RELATIONSHIP WITH HIM

In the same way, when Jesus steps into your boat and changes your life, He will give you a message. You will become a messenger.

Now God can use you as never before. His blessings will take many forms, and you will hang in there with Him even when the going gets tough. You will go where He goes and do what He tells you to do, living a supernaturally natural life in relationship with Him. Walking down the road together, sitting together

-- your conversations will revolve around the things that are on His heart.

You will be passionate about your calling in Christ because He is passionate and you will enjoy your journey in the company of His Spirit. Gifted with the prophetic ability to hear Him even when you cannot see Him, you too will embark upon an endless exploration of the diverse challenges of helping to bring in His Kingdom where darkness once prevailed. This is the purpose of these remarkable giftings of the Holy Spirit. This is the power of the Gospel of the Kingdom of our dear Lord Jesus Christ.

ALBERT FINCH MINISTRY

http://afministry.ning.com/

📷

[gxlden-angels]

Mass Shooting/Violence/Racism TW

It's awkward being Black and Ex Christian in the U.S. Like no I wasn't oppressed for being a Christian, but the good and bad ties between being black and going to church made it really easy to convince me, and all the church folk I knew, that we are

It's not a new phenomenon of black people getting killed at churches. You had the church bombings during MLK Jr's time. You had the multiple mass shootings at predominantly black churches. Most churches I've gone to have armed security now, usually a cop/security guard who already goes to the church, and the pastors keep something to defend themselves on the property if need be. My dad was an unarmed security guard/usher at our old church who's job was to get the pastor out and to his car if a shooting or bombing did start. It's a big enough problem that completely fictional movies like The First Purge show racial violence by having neo-nazi's sent to low-income black neighborhoods and the first place they attack is a black church where the residents were trying to hide for safety

I've talked before about how black churches are often a source of survival, especially in low-income areas. My church would sell dinners and use the proceeds to fix the church since we didn't make enough money just tithing and offering most of the time. On holidays, everyone brings on food and they give everyone free dinners in the back. You can sit and eat however long you want. They have a house on the property you can rent out/stay in if needed. They'll let you sell stuff on the property, like peanut boils, vegetables you grew, clothes/jewelry you made, etc. Growing up, my cousins even went to a church with a giving system. If you were in need of money, they did a little raffle and gave someone a portion of the tithes to help support them. I felt uncomfortable sitting and listening to sermons, but when I was christian, it felt worth it to go. I wanted free food and affection and would feel guilty if I only went for that and didn't at least try to catch the lesson. Churches like that feel like a source of safety and comfort with people like you. Especially older black folk who lived during the time of segregated buildings like my grandparents. My granddad talks about how he'd spend hours at church and went multiple times a week if he could before he got older/sick. It was were he got to see family and friends. You knew you'd feel like you're apart of a big family going to church, and some people even got "adopted" into my extended family from church.

So when someplace like a church is targeted by white supremacy groups, it's not just attacking a black-owned place, it's attacking a community as a whole. You're destroying a sanctuary for everyone in that area who gets support from the church. And with black people's history in the United States, it's becomes a personal attack on each individual black christian's spirit. The earliest recorded member of my family we found was a slave from before the American Revolution. My family sings the Negro National Anthem (Lift Evr'y Voice And Sing) at every family reunion. A large portion of black people see our freedom from slavery (then the Black Codes, Jim Crow, Segregation, Police Brutality, etc) as a miracle of G-d, as seen by the lyrics of the Negro National Anthem.

We're not being targeted for being christian, but there's so many ties between feeling safe as a black person in the U.S and going to church, that it only takes a few connections and word choices to make it seem like we are. This white supremacist shooter was also an atheist. The KKK burned crosses. Small black churches get shutdown by the city all the time. All of these acts are the result of racial, financial or xenophobic violence, but when laid out like that to black people who already know racism exists and experience it every day of their lives, you start to make deeper connections. My family experienced microaggressions in our predominantly white, rich neighborhood we lived in when I was a kid, but were never assaulted for our race. We see smaller things every day. Getting told our natural hair is gross/unprofessional. Getting called a slur for existing. Getting the cops called for gathering/playing music outside. Having people assume we're cleaning services cause there's no way we could afford a nice place. But then you see big things at churches and other christian places all on the news. The violence happens at a christian place, so people make the connection that these black people are being attacked for being being black Christians, not just being black.

So it's weird being black and ex christian and seeing how this all works. I'm going to assume most racially motivated hate crimes at churches is because the attacker knew a lot of people would be there and/or that they are a staple of community for low-income black people. But I am still PIMO and witness how my pastor spins a tragedy like this to say it's "spiritual warfare" and that the devil is trying to attack Christians.

They're right, black christians are being targeted, and have been for a long time. Churches were and are a large target of racial violence. But it's not because they're christian, it's because they're black. It's because they don't fit into the White Americanism-Evangelical Based dream white supremacist have. Even the supremacists that are atheist base a lot of their morals on this "White Americanism" they were raised with. So black christians have legitimate reasons to feel targeted and attacked, because they are. But I don't like it being spun to this "spiritual warfare" narrative I see in a lot of black churches. We can't do anything about "demonic oppression" and "worldly desires" but we can work to dismantle platforms neo-nazis use to speak and spread. Speaking in tongues isn't gonna magically made the financial crisis in black populations go away, but we can make black churches safer by financing that community and helping people with their mental health. I'm not going to turn back to Christianity anytime soon, but I'm also not going to pretend like it didn't get generation after generation of my family through our traumatic history. It helped them. It saved a lot of them. They associate just existing as a black person in the U.S with being christian. So I get why they feel like an attack on their race is also an attack on their faith, especially older folk who wouldn't be alive without the help of a church.

[rahleeyah]

Birthday anon here (again), just sending some love for your excellent work (I am really amazed by how you can work on your regular fics during the week and then make me cry with beautiful pieces on the weekends, you are a godsend) and gushing over "that" pic! (Sorry, just super excited, season 23 is the first I will be seeing straight when it airs instead of catching up! - and what a catch up it was since SVU is almost as old as I am).

Also I was thinking, and you can either comment or not on this, but this reflection was totally spawned by your hc/interpretations of the characters but... you know, Elliot is Catholic and it is immediately clear when he's introduced that this means something. When I first started watching (and even more reading your analysis of his actions, with which I mostly agree) I was like: so what? To put that into context, I am Italian (so in theory Catholic, actually just Italian) but I really really really didn't get his behaviour. I don't know If I am explaining myself but it seems to me that in the US, Catholics take it a lot more "seriously" than other countries, but because it is the same religion I just couldn't wrap my head around it. Bottom line is, Italian catholic is 90% cultural (read: morals are 100% more grey than they look like, as long as it doesn't happen in public- while I feel in the US it is more personal) and I always have to remind myself of that every time I think about it. Also didn't know the sentence Catholic guilt before hearing it on here so, thank you for enlightening me.

Kisses from Rome xx

Thank you so much anon!!! I am so glad you're enjoying the work. I'm just having so much fun coming up with this stuff and sharing it with y'all. And oh my goshhhhh I'm never gonna get over that pic lol

And I like your thoughts here about how religion looks a little different in different places, and I think the truth is that there's varying levels of engagement with religion no matter where you are. Like there's plenty of people here who are culturally catholic the way you described; I'm thinking of my best friend who grew up in big Catholic family, but who only goes to mass at Christmas and Easter and hasn't been to confession since we were in college and who was not married in the church (she was married by another of our best friends and it was the best thing but anyway). If you asked her she'd still say she was Catholic but it doesn't inform her day-to-day decisions. Or the lady who sits next to me at work, who is Boston Irish Catholic (tm) which is its own culture and comes with its own hangups regarding what you are and aren't allowed to do, but she doesn't personally follow a lot of the teachings of the church. Then there's my other friend who is very devoutly Catholic, who went through all the drama to get her first marriage annulled and whose second husband converted to Catholicism so they could get married in the church and they're in mass twice a week and very active in the goings on there. I was raised deeply evangelical and in the environment I grew up in every single fucking thing was dictated by religion, which lemme tell you will fuck up a little gay kid growing up in the sticks, and if you asked me now I'd tell you I don't follow any religion at all, except that I do because I can still hear mama telling me be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry.

But yeah there's plenty of people here who are only tangentially invested in whatever their respective church is, in addition to the people who strictly follow the edicts of their faith. I do think American Christians are their own special breed, and tend to be louder lmao

[catholicartistsnyc]

Meet Visual Artist Holle Wade

HOLLE WADE is an oil painter and film photographer who dapples in digital collage. | website | instagram @hollecreates

CATHOLIC ARTIST CONNECTION: Do you call yourself a Catholic artist? 

HOLLE: I call myself a Catholic who has been called to be an artist. God has called me to a vocation as an artist. The deeper I got into my faith, the deeper I felt God calling me to be an artist. I rejected that for a while because the art world is so separate from God and true beauty that I couldn't possibly be called to that. God is revealing that is exactly why he has called me to be an artist to make space for his goodness and beauty in spaces that have rejected him for so long.

Where have you found support in the Church for your vocation as an artist?

I just graduated college four months ago, so I am still searching where to plant myself. I'm new on this journey and I have found support online through Instagram. Combining my faith and work has been a new development in my own life and spirituality. I'm still searching for a good community. I would love to meet other Catholic film photographers. 

Where have you found support among your fellow artists for your Catholic faith?

From my recent experience a lot of artists have focused more on the formal aspect of my work instead of engaging the conceptual aspects of my work. In terms of using art as an exploration of faith and even as a time of veneration and worship, I have not felt encouraged. I'm a recent graduate and my professors never really engaged with my work beyond the formal elements and often encouraged me to be more personal in my work, but I don't know what’s more personal than putting the fruit of prayer, and devotion to God on display.

How can the Church be more welcoming to artists?

The Church is full of beauty made by artists, and God himself is the true origin of beauty. We want our world to be more Christlike and I think that starts with art and artists. To really change hearts and begin the conversation of Evangelization, I think it starts with art. The world is crying out for more beauty and I think the Church should do more to encourage the creation of artwork and encourage beauty. The art world has rejected God, but just a few hundred years ago, the Church was the main patron of the arts, and I think the Church needs to take that place again. The Church needs to open up in what can be deemed as acceptable artwork for devotion. I would to see more Artist Residencies sponsored by the Church.

How can the artistic world be more welcoming to artists of faith?

The art world has done so much to remove God and true beauty. I want to see more spaces open up for all art. The art world claims to be accepting of all people but exclude Christians, and I want more acceptance of Christians in the art world. We have been placed aside because we are Christian and our work is only for other Christians but that just isn't the case. Artists make work to express our emotions, but I just happen to use my art to express my faith. My work comes from the Holy Spirit working through me and I use my skills I learned in school to help me worship better. I went to school to be an artist, I was trained just like you and I have earned my place in the gallery and museum.

Where do you regularly find spiritual fulfillment?

I regularly find spiritual fulfillment in nature and adoration. I have been reflecting on 1 Kings 19:12-13, how God came to Elijah in the whispering wind. I encounter God in nature and feel his love and presence strongly. Sitting with Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament has been so fruitful for me. As I mentioned earlier, I am between places since just graduating and COVID, I don't have a home parish or parishes I attend on the regular. 

Where do you regularly find artistic fulfillment?

I feel artistic fulfillment in Mass, adoration and prayer. Those are the places where I am most open to the Holy Spirit (apart from working in the studio) and God often gives me an image and of course that original image grows and changes as the Holy Spirit guides me but that is where I get the most artistic fulfillment. I love wondering around museums and seeing art and seeing how it is displayed, that always gives me ideas and things I want to work on. As a photographer, I am out in nature and taking in God's creation so I am always chasing the light and letting the Holy Spirit reveal God's light to me while I am photographing.

What is your daily spiritual practice?

My daily spiritual practice is diving into the Gospel of the day and letting it wash over me. I read the Gospel in the morning and journal about it. At least once a week I stream Adoration and sing worship songs and pray. I spend a few hours in the evening just sitting outside with God and just listening to the sounds around me, sometimes I will journal and listen to worship music. With COVID my daily spiritual practice has changed but I would usually attend daily Mass.  

What is your daily artistic practice?

My daily practice has changed slightly with COVID and graduating, but I usually always carry a film camera with me to catch little moments. The Holy Spirit is always tapping on my shoulder to take pictures of something. I rely on the Holy Spirit when I am working on any kind of art. My painting sessions start with inviting the Holy Spirit to work through me and guide my hands and whenever I feel imposter syndrome wanting to creep its head in the studio, I ask for Mother Mary's intercession. When making compositions there is a peace that washes over me and I know that is what I want to make. Everything starts with the Holy Spirit and Mother Mary's guidance.

What are your top 3 pieces of advice for Catholic artists post-graduation?

Considering I only graduated in May and I'm applying for MFA programs now, my advice would be rest, make time to combine art and prayer, and take full advantage of Visio Divina. Resting and really evaluating your heart and the work you are making, professors have had an effect on your work and may have changed or pressured you into making work you're not proud of - reject that and truly take time to flesh out what YOU want to make. I have been working for months to add prayer to my studio time and I have to say that it will take a lot of pressure away from making. The Holy Spirit will guide you and working will feel effortless. Visio Divina is praying with sacred images and as artists this practice can really align our hearts and our motivations as artists. Maybe even do this in your studio space.

[sleekervae]

Yoü & I [1.4]

Masterlist

At first thought, eating octopus was not something that was super appealing to Charlotte. Her grandmother had tried to cook it time and time again and she was always adversed to it. It was just never something she could bring herself to like. So, she got shrimp takoyaki as opposed to octopus.

The kids sat on some benches in Prince Shiba Park, the world seeming to pass them by. Luke was feeling much better than he had been before. And Chloe was grounded -- as far as the girls were concerned -- and had her phrase book taken away. They would be leaving Japan the day after tomorrow anyway, and Kimberly vowed she wasn't allowed to pick up any more languages.

Maria was becoming annoyed as Chloe kept picking the octopus out of her takoyaki and placing the fish in her paper carton.

"Really?" Maria glared at her.

"I don't like octopus," Chloe shrugged back.

"Well, then why didn't you get the shrimp one?" Calum asked.

Chloe glowered, "... Because I suck at Japanese, that's why,"

Calum smirked, "You should try learning Spanish first, it's way easier,"

"I tried that bullshit," Chloe replied, "I scraped by with a C,"

"And you just got graded a major F in Japanese," Maria replied, flinging back the octopus into her carton, "Eat your fish!"

"I feel like I'm chewing on latex!"

Charlotte shook her head at her friends, taking another glance at her backpack where the phrasebook was being kept. She felt a tap on her shoulder then, turning around and nearly jumping out of her seat when she found Luke was inches from her face, octopus tentacles sticking out of his lips.

"Oh -- jeez!" she pushed him away, much to his amusement, "Who are you supposed to be? Davy Jones?"

Luke simply shrugged and slurped the tentacles into his mouth, much to Charlotte's disdain, "You got a problem with it, Shorty?"

"You disgust me," she replied casually, "You're like Godzilla, slurping octopus for Pete sakes,"

Michael looked the taller boy up and down, "I wouldn't say so, Charlie," he shrugged, "Luke's the breadstick that comes before the octopus,"

"He's a bland appetizer," Ashton grinned.

Luke proceeded to pout, "What have I done to deserve this, now?"

"We're just teasing, honey," Charlotte smirked, "It's not our fault though that you're a pasty bitch,"

"Oh yeah?" Luke took some of the sweet sauce onto his finger, "How's this for teasing?" and he smeared it over the bridge of Charlotte's nose. She pulled her head away but the damage had been done.

"Really?" she glared back at him, fumbling for a napkin, "Real fucking mature,"

"Says the kid who sucks on lollis at eight in the morning," Luke replied smartly.

"Oh, leave me and my sugar alone, Orange Crush!"

Kimberly quickly interjected, "Alright children. Let's finish lunch and try to get a cab back to the hotel,"

Calum quickly stuffed what little food he had into his mouth and crumbled the carton into a ball, "Actually, that was pretty good," he nodded, "Never had takoyaki before,"

"And I now have a new food pun," Ashton grinned.

Michael glanced at him, "What'cha takoyaki 'bout?"

Ashton glowered back at him, "Hey! I claimed it first!"

"But I used it first," Michael replied.

Chloe crumbled her own carton into a ball, "Well, we never would've found lunch if it wasn't for my great sense of direction," she said, hoping the group wasn't still mad at her.

"Yeah, you did okay," Maria replied, "But from now on, you are not allowed to be our translator. Evangelical Lutheran Church," she shook her head.

"I admit, not my best moment," Chloe nodded, "In my defense..."

The others waited patiently for Chloe to continue, but she was stalled in an elongated pause, "So, what's your defense, Chlo?" Charlotte asked finally.

Chloe simply relented, "I'm an idiot. That's all, really,"

They started walking back, just until they could hail down a couple of cabs and get a ride back to the hotel. The girls were in one and the guys were in another. The ride was silent for the most part, that is, until Charlotte started smiling to herself. Like, a really big smile.

"What is it?" Kimberly asked when she took notice.

Charlotte shook her head, "Nothing. It's stupid,"

"Darling, you're riding in a cab with Stupid," Chloe said, pointing to herself, "Come on, what is it?"

Charlotte only shrugged as the girls had become intrigued. It was a stupid idea, but the more she thought about it the more fun it sounded.

"I don't know, I just thought... what if later on we..."

♛♛♛

A few hours later and Luke was standing in front of the vanity mirror in the dressing room, fixing his hair and popping the collar in his shirt. Just down the hall he could hear the drowned music from Catch the Caper's opener. Right now they were playing a song off of their EP called 'Navy Blue', a sadder song about expired love and reluctantly moving on. It was one of Luke's favorites, not just for the lyrics but for the unexpected bass drop in the chorus that always had the crowd stomping along.

There was a part of him that was expecting another phone call from Melody, and there was another part of him that figured maybe he should go ahead and call her. But he distinctly remembered that she was the one who hung up on him and he pushed the thought aside. He wasn't going to let her make him feel guilty for doing nothing wrong.

"Ya' look handsome, darling," Ashton came sauntering up beside him, ruffling a hand through his floppy hair.

"Oh, thanks sweetheart," Luke replied.

"Everything okay?" the older lad leaned against the vanity table, watching Luke with uncertainty in his face.

Luke simply nodded back, "Fine. Tomorrow we'll try to find the arcade, yeah?"

"Yeah," Ashton simpered, "Got the directions from a guide, there's one just down the street from here. No more Chloe Columbus,"

"The intention was there," Luke said, "And hey, we got to try fried octopus for the first time,"

Ashton grinned at him, happy that he was in much better spirits than he was last night, "How are you doing, mate?" he asked then.

Luke shrugged, "I'm good. Tired but -- can't complain," he replied.

"Good," Ashton nodded, "Ya' know if you ever wanna' talk about --"

"I'm good, man," Luke nodded quickly, knowing fully well what Ash was alluding to, "I swear. I'm good,"

Before Ashton could rebuttal, all heads turned when they heard Michael swearing up a storm in the bathroom, "What the actual fuck!?"

Calum swore under his breath, "Oh, tell me he didn't fall into the toilet bowl again,"

The boys went rushing through the hallway, thinking the worst. Yet, when they arrived, they were quite confused yet pleasantly surprised to find a piece of cardboard had been duct-taped to the bowl with a two inch hole cut into the centre. Around the hole, 'Aim Here' and 'Boss Level' had been scribbled in sharpie.

"I have mixed feelings about this," Calum said, looking perplexed.

Luke just shook his head, and Ashton just clapped his hands together with delight, "Don't tell them, but I'm a little impressed," he giggled deviously.

"The prank war has commenced," Michael announced dramatically, putting his hands on his hips, "The Capers won this round,"

"What makes you say that?" Luke asked.

"They duct-taped the bloody toilet shut! I gotta' pee through a hole!" Michael replied.

"It's no big deal, Mike," Calum said, glancing down between Michael's leg, "I think it'll fit,"

Michael glared down at him, "Fuck off and help me,"

Calum smirked, "Well, which is it? You want me to fuck off or you want my help?"

"I need to take a whizz!" Michael exclaimed, "Quit being a smartarse and help me!"

"Alright, alright!" the two boys crouched down and started to peel off the layers and layers of tape, all the while Michael kept squeezing his legs together so he wouldn't have an accident.

"You know, you could just use the bathroom on the other side of the theatre," Luke told him.

"Are you crazy? He'll wet himself before he makes it past the doors!"

"Shut up, Ash!"

♛♛♛

The concert was another rousing success. Applause was rapid, the screams were deafening and the energy was electrifying. It was easily the best show Catch the Caper had ever played.

Hours later, when the venues were clear, the fans had dissipated and exhaustion was thick in the atmosphere, the girls were somewhat annoyed, somewhat elated when Kimberly had a wild idea.

"Can we try the McDonald's here?"

Maria gawked at her, "Girl, it's nearly eleven at night,"

"I know," Kimberly shrugged sheepishly, "... But I kinda' want a Big Mac. In Japan. Which is like -- double the awesomeness,"

Chloe snickered, "Because she didn't fill up on octopus tentacles..."

Lo and behold, and with little convincing for 5sos, the bands made a quick stop to the nearest Micky D's.

The door to his hotel suite burst open and Luke and Charlotte sauntered in, both of them clutching a small McDonald's bag. Charlotte was curious to try the filet-o-ebi (shrimp) burgers they had both ordered, with a side of fries, of course.

"I can't believe we're actually doing this," Charlotte huffed as she collapsed onto his couch.

"What're you talking about?" Luke fell down beside her, "We've had McDonald's way later than this,"

"I know," she nodded, unfolding her bag, "I've just never figured McDonald's would be a staple in my visit to Japan,"

Luke grinned as he unwrapped his sandwich, "Having shrimp burgers at eleven at night ain't my usual either, but hey -- I'll try anything once," he pulled back the paper and took a large bite. Charlotte was bemused as a droplet of orange mayonnaise stained both end of his lips. He innocently raised his eyebrows when he saw she was staring at him.

"Wha...?" he mumbled.

Charlotte chuckled and grabbed a napkin out of the bag, "You are a fucking disaster, sometimes," she wiped the mayo from his lips. Luke shrugged back.

"Isn't that why we get along?" he replied, "Eat your fucking burger. It's actually pretty good,"

"Oh, great," she took a tentative bite of her own burger. Charlotte didn't see what the hype was all for; it was shrimp diced up and fried together in a panko patty. She could easily have made it back home. She supposed it was just partaking in the culture -- as culturally relevant a McDonald's could be.

"Tomorrow, first thing after breakfast, we are tearing off for a true, psychedelic Japanese arcade," Luke declared, mouth still full of food.

"I didn't mind today so much," Charlotte shrugged, "I mean -- getting literally lost in Japan is probably the best way to see Japan. And we tried octopus,"

"I ate octopus," he pointed out, "You chickened out with shrimp,"

"You can call me whatever you want, I don't have octopus breath though," she replied.

"You're eating shrimp again!" Luke pointed out.

"I wanted a Big Mac! You convinced me to get this instead!" Charlotte whined, "It's your fault I'm doubling down on my crustacean intake,"

Luke, still chewing away, opened his mouth and putting the mushy mess on display for Charlotte. She gagged and pushed him away, "You're sick,"

It was then Luke's phone began to ring, a shrill scream for attention. Charlotte could see by the disenchanted look on his face she knew Mel was calling, hopefully to apologize.

"I'll be right back," he stood up and disappeared into the bedroom. Charlotte was left alone on the couch. She could hear the faded murmuring from behind the bedroom door, but Luke didn't sound angry or upset. They were making up again.

"I know... I'm sorry too,"

Charlotte had heard those words time and time again, but she was the one saying them. She was the one who was constantly apologizing to Ben after their fights. Luke had fallen into a familiar pattern and Charlotte's concern only grew. She wanted him to be happy, but she didn't want him to circle the drain like she had.

She took a couple of his french fries and popped them into her mouth, the small crunchy ones. She always loved those best and Luke would always get after her for stealing, but she lived for the annoyed pout he's put on afterwards.

Luke came back to stand in the doorway, smiling as he watched Charlotte snatch some of his fries. He snapped his finger to get her attention and she went red, seeing she'd been caught. She flipped him off.

"What time is it over there?" he asked Mel, "We can skype in a bit. I miss your face,"

Charlotte pretended to gag. Luke grabbed the throw pillow off the armchair and tossed it at her. She caught it with ease and tucked it behind her.

"An hour's fine. I'll be up," Luke sat down beside her, "We're having McDonald's shrimp patties. They're not bad actually,"

Charlotte gagged again and Luke shoved her with his foot. Feigning insult, she grabbed the pillow and whacked him with it. Luke covered his head and threw a taunting look her way.

"No, I think they discontinued that McGratin shit. Were no good," he said, trying to ward off more pillow blows from Charlotte.

Charlotte was now like a child begging for attention. When the pillow wasn't working she reached over and squeezed Luke's ribs. He jumped and let out a yelp.

"Jesus! Why?" he whined at her, "No honey... everything's fine," Luke grabbed another pillow and placed it between them. Charlotte was unfazed, she kept reaching over and trying to tickle him.

Luke defended himself as best he could before he couldn't take it anymore, giggling more than he was talking, "Babe, I'll call ya' back. I gotta' take care of a pest!" he didn't even wait for Mel to respond before he launched himself at Charlotte.

"You fucking little shit!" The pair crashed into the cushions, wrestling and trying to pin the other down. They were awash in giggles and squeals until Luke had Charlotte firmly under him, hands darting under her shirt and squeezing her waist and hips.

Charlotte finally kicked him off and Luke dropped to the floor with a hard thud, "That's what you get!" she exclaimed with triumph.

Luke glared back at her with irritation, "You started it!"

"And I also ended it!" with a heavy huff she extended her hand out to him, "Truce?"

"Yeah," Luke grabbed her hand -- only to yank her off the couch with a hard tug. Charlotte screamed before she could even realize what was happened and she landed on the hardwood beside him.

"That was for the toilet seat!"

[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

[anarcoqueer1994]

Heaven

So I wrote this a while ago as a request on AO3 and felt weird about the story. It's a little heavy handed in the overly religious parents tropes. But a really supportive friend made me feel a little better about it so here. It is a Tyrus fic based off Troye Sivan's Heaven.

["The truth runs wild

Like a tear down a cheek

Trying to save face, and daddy heart break

I'm lying through my teeth

This voice inside

Has been eating at me

Trying to replace the love that I fake

With what we both need

The truth runs wild

Like kids on concrete

Trying to sedate, my mind in its cage

And numb what I see

Awake, wide eyed

I'm screaming at me

Trying to keep faith and picture his face

Staring up at me"]

"Why are you doing this? Don't you love me anymore?"

TJ can still hear the desperation in the brown eyed boy's voice. TJ couldn't so much as look him in the face. Those were the last things Cyrus said before TJ turned away without a word and ran, leaving Cyrus alone, confused, and heartbroken on his front porch.

TJ kept running. He ran from the hurt. He ran from the regret. He hoped if he ran long enough and far enough, he could outpace all his problems. He ran until he couldn't anymore. But when he stopped, he found he couldn't escape the reality of it all. He just hurt the only person who ever mattered to him. And what for? For his parents who are probably never going to really love him? For some G-d that he isn't even sure is real?

When he looks around, he realized he ended up in the park, because of course he did. This had been the place he and Cyrus had been coming to the last 3 years to find comfort. He doubted it would have that same effect today. Everything felt so heavy. It was like the weight of the world was pressing down on him threatening to crush him right where he stood.

Maybe that's why he felt his knees buckle as he collapsed beside a nearby tree. Under the cover of shade, in the middle of the park, TJ lost control. All his feelings he has been holding inside came out in the form of sobbing. He couldn't stop. He hurt so badly.

The last few days played in his head. He had come home yesterday to both his parents in his bedroom. His mother sat on the edge of the bed, unable to look at him. His father held a photograph in his hand as he stood near her.

He remembers feeling tense as his father handed him the picture in his hand. His heart sank when he saw what it was. It was of him and Cyrus at the beach from the previous week. They were cuddling, with Cyrus placing a kiss on TJ's cheek. Buffy had taken the picture and TJ loved it so much, he got it printed. He hid it in his desk.

"Why were you guys going through my things?" Was the only sentence he could force out of his mouth.

"We are your parents and we have the right to go through your room. Thelonious, I have never been so disappointed in you in my entire life. You know that being with other guys is wrong." His dad says sternly. His dad is a tall guy and well built, not the kind of guy you want to get into a fight with. He was also the minister at a small evangelical church in town.

"Cyrus and I are only friends. We were just joking around." TJ lies through his teeth.

"We are not dumb, son. We went through your laptop after we found this." TJ's breath catches in his throat. He knows he has tons of pictures of him and Cyrus saved on there. He also knows he has his finsta logged in, the one where he is openly gay.

"I'm sorry, dad…" the boy says, sounding like it was getting harder and harder to breath.

"You better be, do you know how big of a deal this is? You are putting your soul in grave danger for some boy. TJ this sin has made you very ill. Don't you want to go to heaven? Because if you keep this up, you know only hell waits for you."

To hear his dad call Cyrus just some boy, stung more than his dad calling him sick but he stays quiet and focuses on the carpet at his feet. So his dad continues in a low somber manner. "How long has this been going on?"

"For over 3 years...since 8th grade." TJ whispers almost too quiet to hear. All the guilt and shame he had worked so hard to overcome so he could be himself came trickling back in. A tear rolled down his cheek.

"Well, that is ending. You will give us your phone, laptop, and anything else that has to do with Cyrus. You will go to his house tomorrow and end things with him. Then next week, we will be sending you to a place that will help you get better. Oh and be a man and stop crying. " Without waiting for a response from their son, both of his parents left his room, taking his phone and laptop as promised.

TJ knew what they meant by "get better." He seen it happen to a girl at his church; conversion therapy. He was terrified. He knew he had to break up with Cyrus so he doesn't make this situation worse.

Objectively he knew being gay wasn't a choice and G-d didn't hate him, but part of him wondered if his parents were right, if what he was doing would get him sent to hell. I guess that's what you get if you have been brainwashed into believing this stuff since birth.

So the next day, he did what his parents told him to do. He showed up at Cyrus' door. Cyrus had attempted to kiss him when he opened the door and saw him but TJ pulled away.

"Is everything okay?" Cyrus scrunched his eyebrows together in confusion.

"No, Cy...its not." TJ says in a shattered voice. He looks anywhere but Cyrus' face. He knows if he makes eye contact, he will melt and back out.

"Baby, what is it?" Cyrus says in an understanding tone.

"Us, we aren't going to work out. Sorry." That's all TJ could say. It hurt too bad to say more. But the words even to his ears sounded so callous.

"Wait...why?" Cyrus squeaks out.

TJ says nothing.

"Did I do something wrong?"

Again the taller boy says nothing. But inside it kills him that Cyrus thinks he did something wrong, that he in someway deserved this.

And that's when Cyrus said the thing that made TJ crumble. With obvious tears in his voice he said, "Why are you doing this? Don't you love me anymore?"

TJ could not keep it together after that. Of course he loves Cyrus. He loves him more than he could put into words. So he ran. He knew staying there wouldn't be good. That's how he ended up here in the park, under a large tree, sobbing.

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

["The truth runs wild

Like the rain to the sea

Trying to set straight the lines that I trace

To find some release

This voice inside

Has been eating at me"]

He is so wrapped up in his thoughts, he doesn't notice the other boy sit down beside him. Cyrus' voice breaks through his racing head. "Hey, Teej…" his voice seems so small.

"Why are you here Cyrus?" TJ tries to say while trying to will himself not to keep crying. He still doesn't look at the boy.

"To see if you are okay…" Cyrus puts his hand softly on TJ's shoulder. This time the blonde does not pull away.

"Why should you care? I'm a jerk who just broke up with you." TJ tries to sound harsh but it comes out sad instead, punctuated by a stifled sob.

"Because I know you better than anyone and what you did hurt me but I know something else has to be going on. You didn't answer any of my texts and calls last night or this morning and out of nowhere you come to my house to break up with me after 3 years. But you looked so...so...broken when you did it. You could not look at me but...I was staring at you the whole time. That's when I noticed the tear forming in your eye...and then you ran. I knew you would be at the park so I came looking for you. Tj...please look at me. Please..."

Against his better judgement, TJ looks up. The moment he does though, he knows he is done for. Cyrus' eyes looked tired like they were crying and it destroys him to know he was the cause of it. But there is something else in his eyes; unconditional love. His parents never looked at him like that, and G-d sure as hell hasn't. Without thinking twice, he throws his arms around Cyrus and pulls him close. He lets go of all his guards and just cries into Cyrus' shoulder. Between cries he keeps apologizing. Cyrus for his part just holds his boyfriend, and tells him it is okay.

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

["Without losing a piece of me

How do I get to heaven?

Without changing a part of me

How do I get to heaven?

All my time is wasted

Feeling like my heart's mistaken, oh

So if I'm losing a piece of me

Maybe I don't want heaven?"]

After a while, when TJ has calmed down a little, he starts to explain what happened. The boys sitting from each other, holding hands, fingers intertwined. Cyrus is rubbing soothing circles with his thumb on TJ's knuckles.

"My parents found out about us…"

"Oh no...did they hurt you?" Cyrus knows how ultraconservative they are.

"Not physically. They made me feel so horrible though. They took away any electronics so I could not talk to you. They forced me to break up with you They told me I was going to hell. Well actually my dad did, my mom couldn't even look at me."

"TJ, you know that is not true…right?" Cyrus asks.

TJ stays quiet for a few moments before replying "Well even if it is true, if it means losing you to get to heaven, maybe I don't want heaven?"

Cyrus puts his free hand on TJ's cheek. "I really love you, you know that?" He smiles.

TJ smiles back before a look of fear clouds over his face. Cyrus notices. "What is it?"

"My parents...they are sending me to some place that does conversion therapy. Cy, I don't want to go. Those places are actual torture. This girl at my church was found out to be a lesbian and she got sent there. She seemed like a shell when she came back. She is in her 20s now and married to some guy but she always seems so unhappy and empty inside. What I'm saying is they break kids down and...I'm so scared." TJ is rambling but it is obvious that he is terrified.

"Well I'm not going to let them take you."

"How? They are my parents." TJ states hopelessly.

"Let's…" Cyrus bites his bottom lip, contemplating what to say next. "Let's run away."

TJ looks shocked. "Are you serious? We can't just run away...can we?"

"I don't see why not. We only have a year left of school and we can always do one of those online programs to get our diplomas. I have a car, and savings. We can just go, we won't even pack a suitcase, too risky. We won't take our cellphones. We will take out all my money I have in my bank account on our way out of town. We can live off that for a while and get odd jobs…"

"Cyrus, I can't ask you to leave behind your family and friends for me."

"You are not, I'm making this choice. Plus it will only be a year. After that, we will be 18 and can come back because your parents won't have legal rights over you anymore."

"So you really want to do this …Cyrus Goodman is going to run off with me?" TJ asks trying not to sound to hopeful.

"Of course I do. I would do anything to be with the person I love and protect him." Cyrus gleams.

TJ mirrors his face. "I love you so much, Underdog. I don't need heaven when you are right here." He leans in and rests his forehead on Cyrus'. The boys just stare at each other, thankful for the other.

They both know it is going to be a tough road ahead but aren't scared because they have each other.

[collecting-stories]

I Feel it all Over - t. 04 - JJ Maybank

Summary: Kiara surprises you at church and you spend the day with her, JJ, and Pope.

A/N: If you haven't ever listened to them...can I just highly recommended listening to The Maine (whose album You Are Ok this is based on)? They’re music is amazing...You Are Ok, American Candy, and Pioneer are probably my favorite albums of theirs. Plus they did an incredible cover of Watermelon Sugar...if you’re a fan of Harry Styles. 

You Are Ok Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

✞ I swear to every god I feel everything tonight with you ✞

New patrons to the church were usually whole families that came to services, whose fathers or mothers agreed your father’s lesson and felt drawn to the “community” of the Baptist denomination. They responded to the clickbait phrases and did feel lost in their everyday life. It was very rare that any new member, or anyone testing the church out for the first time, would be a single person, a teenager far removed from the beliefs and traditions of the church. But there was Kiara, walking up the few steps into the vestibule. She wasn’t here because of any lost feelings; she was here because she wanted to get to know you more. What JJ had told her, and what she had seen for herself on Friday, was someone that she definitely wanted to be friends with.  

She had no bet to dictate how or when she became friends with you. She slipped into the line of people entering the church, catching sight of you standing by the door handing out pamphlets for that morning’s service. Making sure she was at the end of the line, she waved as she approached, happy to see you.  

“What are you doing here?” You asked, glancing into the church before giving her a quick hug. If your parents or any other family saw they would ask how you knew this complete stranger and why you seemed so friendly with someone who had never been to the church before.  

“JJ stole you on Friday,” she shrugged, “thought maybe we could hang out after church?”  

“Yeah,” you nodded, a story already formulating in your head to tell your parents. Your mother always said that a lie was the devil on your tongue and the first time she’d said it you were convinced that the devil had taken out real estate because you lied constantly, and with ease. Sometimes just to see if you could get away with it. “That would be amazing.”

As far as friends went, you had very few. Your main source of companionship had come from your brothers and sisters, other friends were just acquaintances from youth group or church retreats that you never really felt any deeper connection with. The further away from the fold you felt, the less you found a community for yourself. You had been doubting for so long now that anything within the church felt like a show you were putting on for other people’s amusement, the emotions weren’t real and niether were you.  

JJ wasn’t the first boy you had ever let yourself like but he was the first person you had ever felt comfortable being yourself around. There was no fear of judgement or rejection with him, nothing you said was turned into a weapon to make you feel guilty or unworthy, you didn’t have to pretend to be someone you weren’t. You had been nervous to meet his friends, feeling so different from them, but Kiara and Pope had been nice, welcoming, and all you felt was ease. Even now, seeing Kiara had put a more genuine smile on your face than seeing your family visiting for church.

“I wore my best ‘church’ outfit,” Kiara said, gesturing to the maxi dress and sweater she was wearing. The dress was backless and strappy but it was the only thing she owned that wasn’t short. She’d thrown a sweater overtop, hoping she could play off the dress better.

“You blend right in,” you laughed, “I’m relegated to sit up front...I don’t know if you wanna sit with me up there?”

“Lead the way.”

The “peace be with you’s” weren’t too bad and you lied to your mom when she asked how you knew Kiara, telling her that you had met at Heyward's and invited Kiara to church because she was interested in the tract you had. Your mother’s love for testimony and her conviction that people really did want to be approached on the street and harassed about their faith were enough to convince her that your story was solid. It was enough, even, to give you permission to go to lunch with Kiara after service was over.  

Kiara hadn’t been to church since she was thirteen and her mom decided that she was old enough to choose whether or not she actually wanted to be there. That sort of power and responsibility had been all Kiara needed to ditch Sunday service altogether and spend her mornings out on the waves with the pogues, worshipping a different sort of force. She was a lot less religious and a lot more spiritual now though she listened intently to your father preaching. The opinions were hogwash, nothing to bat an eye at, but the actual teachings were interesting. You seemed relatively invested in those parts too, your notes, Kiara realized, looked a lot more like a theology lesson than a preacher’s condemnation of society.  

“You know a lot about the bible,” Kiara mentioned once you were out of church and back at her house, changing into jeans and a shirt of hers.  

“I like studying religion, theology,” you clarified, “my grandfather knew a lot about the texts. Not like my dad, he’s just...got his own ideas. My grandfather knew the Greek and Hebrew translations and spent years studying other religions as well. It was so cool to talk to him about it. I like that part, the history, the context, more than the ‘fundamentalist/evangelical crap’ my dad touts.”

“Is that something you’d study?” She asked, pulling a tank top on over her bathing suit, “like in college?”

“My parents won’t let me go to college.” You replied.  

“That’s so crazy, my parents would kill me if I didn’t go.”

You spent the drive to Kiara’s dad’s restaurant explaining your parents future plan for your life, including telling her about the boy that your parents wanted you to marry. When she asked if JJ knew you admitted that he did and that you weren’t really sure what was going to happen when you turned eighteen. You knew what your parents wanted, for you to get engaged and then quickly married, but that wasn’t what you wanted at all.  

“If I say that though...there’s a good chance I’d be ex-communicated. Not just from the church but from my family. One of my cousins defected and no one speaks to her anymore.” You said, “it’s like a massive stain on her family’s reputation.”

“Yeah but if she’s happy, does it matter?”

“It’s...it’s not just that I haven’t worn jeans or drank a soda,” you said, following Kiara out onto the back deck to eat, “it’s that I don’t have anyone outside my family. It’s not just being sheltered, it’s being isolated. And I know that, and I hate it but...it’s all I know.”  

“None of your siblings have done it differently?”  

“No.” You shook your head, “I think I would’ve been fine coasting too...I was pretty much set that this was it ya know? But then...JJ asked me out.” You admitted.

Kiara frowned, “yeah but you don’t know what’s gonna happen with JJ in the future.”

You shrugged, “it’s not just about him...it’s me, feeling happier and more confident.”  

“Talking about me?” JJ’s voice came from behind you and you turned around, watching him and Pope walk up to the railing of the deck. He put his hands on the railing, pulling himself up so he could lean over and kiss your cheek.

“I should’ve known you guys would crash.” Kiara said, rolling her eyes as JJ climbed the rest of the way up, hopping over the railing onto the deck.  

“What’re you guys up to?” Pope asked, staying on the other side.

“Kie mentioned taking the ferry to Chapel Hill.” You replied, “I have to be back before dark though.”

“So what’re we waiting for?” JJ said, grabbing your soda and taking a sip.  

-

The four of you rode the ferry over to Chapel Hill, standing on the back deck the whole time talking. Kiara suggested shopping the moment you got off the ferry, telling you that all she wanted was to see you pick out an actual outfit.  

“Nothing hand-me-down or borrowed, just like a real, honest outfit that you pick out.” Kiara said, taking your hand in hers as she pushed open the door to one of the small stores along the main road.  

JJ followed you to the back of the store where the sale racks were, skimming through clothes, holding up different things that were still a little too far out of your comfort zone. You shook your head at a spaghetti strapped mini dress, pulling a crossover out to show him, “I like this one.”

“Try it on.” He shrugged.  

“Where’s the changing area?” You asked, looking around the small area.  

JJ grabbed your hand, “over here.” He led you to the curtained off stalls, pulling you into one of them and hanging the dress up.  

“I have a very strong feeling that if anyone caught us we would be in massive trouble.” You whispered, biting your lip to stop from laughing as JJ moved so that you were looking in the mirror and he was behind you, hands on your hips. He rested his head on your shoulder, nudging his face into the space between your shirt and your neck, kissing the exposed skin.  

“Yeah but you’ve never been shopping so what do you know?” JJ replied, as if it was obvious and he wasn’t just bullshitting you to stay in the changing room.  

You turned in his arms, putting your hands over his, “I’m not changing with you in here.”

“Fine,” he groaned, “If I leave will you try on something for me?”

“Fine.” You mimicked. You kissed him, initiating it for yourself this time, before pushing him into the curtain. He gave another exasperated sigh as he swept the curtain out of the way and left you to change.

Alone in the dressing room, you changed out of your clothes and tried on the floral wrap dress. It tied off at the waist, cutting a deep V and a slit up to your thigh. It was a dress but not like any you had ever worn before. You pushed the curtain enough that you could peek out to see JJ. He was slouched in the chair, texting, while he waited for you.

“I thought you were picking something out?” You said, looking over at him.

He shrugged, “I’d rather see what you like then pick something out for you.”  

“Thanks,” you nodded.  

JJ watched you as you pushed the curtain back and stepped out of the changing room. “Holy shit,” he mouthed. “Wait, don’t move!”

“What? Why?” You asked as he lifted his phone in front of his face.  

“I wanna picture of this.” He replied. Sure, he had seen you in a dress before but he had never seen you in a dress like this, one that actually fit you well, that wasn’t trying to hide your figure but accentuate it. One that you looked so incredibly happy in.  

“So I take it I don’t look half bad?” You joked, stepping further out when he had stashed his phone and stood up.  

“Half bad? You look...incredible.” JJ replied. Deciding it was worth mentioning, he added, “you look really happy.”

“I really like this dress. I’ve never really...liked anything I’ve worn before. Like, it’s just always felt like, clothes. This is different.” You admitted.

Your clothes were just whatever hand-me-downs fit you. From siblings, relatives, church members, it was never your stuff, you never chose it, never got to say what you liked or disliked.  

“Oh my god!” Kiara exclaimed, coming over and interrupting your moment with JJ, “you look so pretty.”  

“Thanks.” You nodded, smiling at her, “I think I’m gonna get it.”  

“Let me.” JJ piped up and you looked over at him.  

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” He insisted.  

There was little further discussion to be had about it, JJ purchasing the dress for you and the four of you wandering around the rest of Chapel Hill, heading in and out of a few different shops. Pope talked to you about his future college plans and you listened intently. Being with JJ was amazing but being able to be friends with a guy, just sitting with Pope and not having to consider anything other that friendship, was so underrated in your life. You had never been friends with a boy either.  

-

Kiara drove you back to your house after you changed, just getting inside as your sister Praise was setting the table. “Hi! I’m so sorry I’m late!” You apologized, “Kie and I were just chatting and I lost track of time.”

“That’s okay Ace, mom was just telling us about Timothy’s visit. Are you excited?” Praise asked, wrapping her arms around you in a hug.  

You hugged her back, “I’m very excited.” You lied.  

Robert gave you a hug as you walked further into the house, handing off a baby and soon you were outside, supervising kids while your other siblings sat and chatted with your parents around the table. You were only two years younger than Robert but he was married with a kid and another on the way and that automatically made you still a kid. Though you felt less and less like a kid every day.  

Your parents talked about Timothy’s visit and their own upcoming trip, ignoring anything that actually had to do with you or your interests. Even Praise, in talking about your upcoming nuptials, mentioned that her dress was still in good condition if you needed one.  

“Oh, wouldn’t that be amazing Ace? You could wear Praise’s dress?” Your mother mentioned from across the table, smiling at you as if all her dreams were being realized right there at the table.

“Amazing.”  

-

The sound of tapping at your window startled you as you sat on the bed, reading before sleep. You walked over, lifting the blinds to see JJ standing there. He waved as you opened the window for him.  

“What are you doing here?”

“I missed you, I wanted to see you.” He replied, leaning into the window space.  

“You just saw me earlier.” You pointed out.  

“I also wanted to know if you wanted to go for a ‘midnight swim’ with me, Kie, and Pope?” JJ said, “we’re taking the HMS out. John B and Sarah don’t feel like going out and I figured you might.”

“I’m lucky no one caught me last time JJ,” you replied, “I don’t know if I can risk it.”

“That’s fine,” he said, “you don’t have to.”

You bit your bottom lip, glancing back over at your door. Your parents were asleep for the night and the thought of getting to spend more time with JJ was just too tempting for you to say no too. You were sure your dad had some bible verse to offer for you as proof that this was an evil infatuation but you could care less, agreeing to go and grabbing the swimsuit that JJ had given you. “Just let me change.”

“Can do.” JJ turned around, back to the window, and you almost laughed.  

You changed quickly before climbing out the window, “I better not get in trouble for this.”

JJ led you through the woods to John B’s house, just like the night of the kegger, taking you down to the jetty. Kiara waved when she saw you and Pope helped you onto the HMS.  

“I can’t believe you let him sneak you out.” Pope joked as JJ boarded the boat.  

He drove you out on the marsh, parking in an open area where they couldn’t be seen by lights at the edge of anyone’s yard. The HMS didn’t have lights itself and they banked on that to keep themselves mostly out of trouble. Kiara lit a lantern in the middle of the boat but otherwise it was dark as they jumped in, JJ hanging back with you.  

The two of you sat on the bench together, in your own little world seemingly. “Can I try a sip?” You asked, holding your hand out for the beer he was drinking.  

“You sure?” He asked.

“Yeah, positive.”  

He passed the beer over, laughing when you took a big gulp and then practically spit in out. “Oh my god, that’s horrible!” You cried, sticking your tongue out.  

“I warned you.” He laughed.

“Not enough,” you replied, “that’s really gross.”  

“Sorry babe,” he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you against him and kissing your cheeks and then your lips. “We’ll stick to soda for now.”  

“Yes please.” You replied, kissing him back.

“Quit macking on each other and get in the water!” Pope shouted, grabbing on to the side of the boat and pushing himself up so that the HMS would rock slightly.  

You grabbed onto JJ more, laughing as the boat swayed.  

“What the fuck Pope, we’re coming.” He grumbled. “I’m trying to spend time with my girlfriend.”

-

taglist: @heavenlymama @vindictive-hearts @alexa-playafricabytoto @dontjinx-it @randomficsandshit @niamhobrien @strangerthanfanfiction713 @tovvaa @freckled-and-daydreaming @harleylynn @bibliophilewednesday @dpaccione @bolaurel @poguestyleskye @beautyandthebleh @under-a-canyon-moon @stevie-buck @bijleegiregi  @vitaminekabc @minigranger @teamnick @just-smile-darling @obxsummer @damonsalvawhore27 @isqbella @tomzfrog @fangirlvoice @phantompogues @98starkeys @ilovejjmaybank @lemur46 @khiaraaa-in-spacee @babygal-babygal @niya-savage @divvrx @princess-of-the-fandoms @thecaptainsgingersnap @jenjie @yourprincess-maybe @outrbanks @mendesmaybank @thehomeiknow @minnie-bby @katiaw2 @2kayla64