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endlessthxxghts · 5 months

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Tell Me More

no outbreak!neighbor!Joel Miller x afab!reader || W/C: ≈4.4k

Summary: Your house is finally empty for the first time in a long time, so you decide to get back in the groove of your witchy practices. Joel stumbles in during your meditation session, and he's intrigued to know more.

Warnings: Religious (Christianity/Catholicism) undertones/religious trauma - brief mention, but does affect reader. Talk of crystals, talk of Tarot cards. Mental health talk, my babies: depression mentions, allusions to wanting to give up in life. EXPLICIT/MATURE CONTENT, 18+ MDNI. Dom/sub dynamics - talks of being collared...getting collared (stfu I’m sobbing)🥲!! These knuckleheads are legit IN LOVE. Age gap. Established relationship. P in V sex. Use of daddy. Allusions to other sexual activity. Please let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: I'm gonna preface this with the fact that this is entirely something I wrote because I was needing comfort. I do witchcraft. I love crystals, I do tarot readings, and all that jazz. Within the last year, I haven’t done much because I’ve been in a living situation in which I have to hide who I truly am. A few nights ago, I got to spend a few hours with someone who partakes in these practices, and I’ve never felt more alive in those two hours than I have in the last year. And I’ve been craving to feel that way again, but again, my living situation prevents me to do so. So, here I am, healing a part of myself through my writing. Even if you guys are unfamiliar in the whole aspect of witchcraft, I hope you guys can enjoy this from the aspect of finding a person who finally accepts you for all that you are. If this isn’t your cup of tea, no hate! Please just scroll away. All my love. Xoxo💚

ONESHOT COLLECTION || MAIN MASTERLIST

Part of What You Need universe! CAN BE READ AS STAND-ALONE!

You told Joel a few hours ago that when he got off work to just let himself inside because you weren’t sure if you’d be having a nap or not. He knew the garage code and knew where the spare key was, anyway.

So when he was greeted to an empty home at the end of his work day, he didn’t think anything of it. That is, until he entered your room and saw you, legs criss-crossed in the center of your bed, eyes closed, with rocks and playing cards scattered all around your bed, enveloping you in a makeshift circle.

“Uh, baby?” immediately leaves his mouth as he stares, absolutely confused at the situation before him.

Your eyes shoot open, not expecting to be in the presence of another human being right now, and a little squeak escapes you. “Oh! Baby! Almost gave me a heart attack,” you say with a light giggle.

“What are you-” he gestures towards your bed as he walks closer to you, leaning over your bed to give you a chaste kiss, “-up to, darlin’?”

You’re absolutely radiating sunshine right now, and even though his confusion is still getting the best of him, he can’t help but feel giddy in your presence. “Oh, well,” you smile up at him, a hint of shyness in your voice, “I thought I’d take advantage of my family being out on their little vacation, so I wanted to take some time to meditate.”

“Oh, okay,” he offers you a smile back, one like he understands exactly what you’re talking about even though the sentiment doesn’t reach his eyes. Usually you’d be shying away and scrambling to put your stuff away. But this is Joel you’re talking about here, and he just looks utterly confused.

You raise your eyebrows slightly, prompting him to ask his question you know he’s dying to ask.

“And this meditatin’,” he says a little hesitantly, “you do it with, um.. with rocks?”

Your hand flies to your mouth, a slapping sound echoing in the room, in an attempt to stifle your disbelief at his words. “Rocks?” you say perplexed.

His cheeks heat up at your passionate reaction. “I-”

You scooch your bum over, gather everything on your bed and make some room over for Joel. You pat the space next to you, signaling for him to come over. He sits next to you, tucking one leg under him as the other hangs off the bed.

You take his hand and hold it palm up, sliding one of the clusters in his palm. “These, my honey, are crystals,” you pause to think for a second. “Well, okay, yes, they’re rocks, BUT-”

His cheekbones raise in amusement. You’re caressing the crystal in his palm, eyes fixated on it as you speak. You think he’s looking at the crystal, but really he’s watching and loving just how passionate you are about this.

You continue on for a good fifteen minutes or so about what crystals are, what meanings they have, and you also mention what powerful properties they carry—whatever that means, he thinks to himself. In all his years of life, he has never heard of anything like this, nor would he ever get into something like this.

“So, this ro-” you physically cringe at the word. He corrects himself. “This crystal,” he says, “it makes you sleepy?”

He’s trying. And it makes you want to swallow him whole and never let him go. You think for a second, pondering the implications behind the crystals properties of the Amethyst crystal sitting in his palm. Inner peace. Rest. Relaxation. You smile to yourself at how Joel processes the information. Looking up into his eyes for the first time since your little tangent, “Yeah, baby, you’re getting it,” you say with a gentleness in your voice, the brightest of smiles on your face.

Since he’s been with you, he has never seen you interact with any of this stuff before. It must be something you do on the down low, or something you rarely have a chance to indulge in. Whatever the case may be, the genuine light and happiness radiating off of you is addicting, and if it’s because of these things, he’ll gladly learn everything there is to know.

He gently places the Amethyst down beside you, and picks up a light blue one, tower shaped. “This one magic, too?”

Your eyes positively brighten, more than they are now. His heart beats stronger at the sight. You tell him the crystal he’s holding is called Celestite, and it helps with inner peace and is supposed to help guide you to a more divine consciousness when you meditate. He smiles with you, offering the occasional nod and grunt to signify he’s listening to you even though everything coming out of your mouth sounds like a foreign language to him.

After the fifth round of him picking a crystal for you to explain, he opts for the cards sprawled all over your bed. “This… magic involves… card games?” He grimaces as the words leave his mouth, silently cursing himself for the insensitivity of his vocabulary. You stifle a laugh, knowing he didn’t mean it that way though, which is why you can’t help but pull him into a sweet kiss before you go on and explain.

“What was that for?” He asks, cheeks reddened slightly.

“Nothing, baby, I just love you.”

He presses another kiss to your forehead. “I love you, sweet girl. Now, tell me more about these not playing cards, please.”

Your cheeks hurt from all the smiles he’s been pulling from you. “Mhmm, so these are called tarot cards, my love.”

The next hour is spent with you explaining the cards, what they do, and what kind of things people use them for. Joel seems confused, weirded out, and impressed all in one.

“Ain’t no way this lil thing answers my life questions,” he deadpans.

“Okay, no it doesn’t give definite answers- these aren’t fortune tellers,” you say. He sees the gears turning in your head, trying to find a better way to explain to him. “They give advice or feedback…” you start. “They give guidance for the situation your current self is in. They aren’t meant to be taken like law or religion, but more so like if your friend was a therapist. They can give you advice, but not too much without crossing the patient-therapist threshold. Just tiny nudges in a potentially better direction.”

Now it’s your turn to see the gears turning in his head. His smile slowly spreads the moment it actually clicks for him. “Oh, wait, that actually is makin’ sense to me,” he says a little more excited than usual. He places kisses on your forehead, cheek, and lips, trying to place his excitement somewhere. You laugh in his embrace. You’re beyond excited that the most important person in your life is open to something so unconventional, so taboo.

For years, you’ve had to hide this little part of you for fear of your family shunning you. They’d kick you out without a second thought if they found out about this. They would be unwilling to hear your explanations and would deduce your actions down to the work of the Devil.

They wouldn’t care that immersing yourself in the craft—whether this stuff is actually real or not—is what saved your life, time and time again. They wouldn’t care that when you had the worst depression episode, it was meditating, learning the meanings of different crystals, and connecting with the Earth and the divine that taught you the meaning of life again. None of them would ever be willing enough to even try to understand.

“Thank you,” you say in a mere whisper, eyes glossing over slightly.

He sees your eyes. His hand snakes up to your jaw, bringing your face closer to his, noses ghosting against one another. “For what, darlin’?”

“For trying to understand. For acting like you want to.” Your eyes falter from his. His thumb caresses your cheekbone, trying to spark your attention back up to his gaze. It does.

“No, baby. I want to. No actin’ here.” His lips meet yours, warming you from the inside out.

“You swear?” you ask him as he pulls away.

His eyebrow quirks up at your antics. Your bottom lip juts out in a pout. “Swear?” you repeat.

“On my life,” he says.

You place one more kiss to his lips before you’re pulling away and sliding off the bed. “Come, I’ll cook. You haven’t eaten since this afternoon, huh?”

“Guilty,” he tells you, face warm at how well you know him. “Mhmm. Do you mind just putting the cards back in that box over there for me real quick?”

“Of course, darlin’.”

“Thank you, baby,” and with that, you’re out in the kitchen, whipping up a small meal for the both of you.

As he grabs all the cards, putting them in a stack before he slides them in the box, a singular card jumps out of his hands. He remembers what you said earlier.

The way that I like to do it is by shuffling the deck and letting the card itself jump out at you! There are many ways to do it, but I don’t know. I like the pure chance of doing it that way.

He picks up the card, softly speaking to it. “Jumpin’ out for me?” He has to pull the card to and from his eyes a few times before his vision becomes clear. Love, the card reads. He smiles to himself, his heart giving him all the explanation he needs for the meaning of it. He places the card into his flannel pocket to show you after you dinner.

With both your tummies satiated, you begin to gather the dishes when Joel throws you a stern look. Whether you two are actively in your dynamic or not, you know not to test that look. You settle back down in your seat, hands held up defensively with the smallest of airy giggles.

“Ya know better than that, darlin’, especially if you cooked.”

“I know, I know,” you say to him apologetically. “I’ll take care of it,” he breathes, “but first,” he stands up, leaning over your shoulder so you both can look at the card from a good angle when he pulls it out. “Remember what you were sayin’ earlier ‘bout your cards jumpin’ out at ya and whatnot?”

“Yeeaahh,” you drag out, turning your head and looking up at him curiously.

“Well,” he reaches for the card tucked safely in his pocket. “As I was puttin’ them back in the box, this one just came out at me.” He sets it down softly in front of you.

“Oh?” You’re eager to see which card. Love, your eyes read. Your heart beats five times stronger, and your smile grows ten times cheesier.

“Does it mean anythin’?” He asks. “For our..current situation?” He has a silliness in his voice, but you can tell he’s genuinely curious.

“It means…” you start, your eyes slowly leading back to meet his own. You stare into his eyes for a moment, soaking in the warmth, the safety, the love that he always gives you so willingly. A moment extra passes, and you’re still in a trance. He sees your stare fade from adoration into something more deep, needy. His stare changes, too. The pretty brown of his eyes nearly erased with arousal in your sudden change of energy. He quirks his eyebrow, reminding you to speak.

“It means.. Daddy needs to take me to bed,” you say, voice soft and shaky with arousal.

“Is that right?” he asks, his deep voice vibrating you from the outside in.

His mere tone has you slipping already, your voice automatically pushing out a reply, knowing he requires a response after every question. “Y-yes,” you say.

He leans in to give you a slow, heated kiss, his hand finding its way to your jaw. He pulls away, much too soon to your liking, but you don’t protest. “Bed. Now,” he says, standing himself to full height. “Yes, sir,” you say as you shoot up from your seat, making a bee line to your bedroom. “And in position,” he yells to you.

You don’t respond to him then, but that’s okay. He knows his sweet girl heard him; he knows how good of a listener you are. Which is why he refrains from his original idea of teasing you—of clearing the dining table and washing the dishes and cleaning the kitchen—before he gives you what you need.

Instead, he only clears the dining table, saving everything else for later and coming to you. He finds you, completely stripped of your clothes, centered at the middle of your bed, sitting on your haunches, palms face up on your thighs, eyes casted downward. Eager yet patient. Aching with need yet satiated knowing that you will be taken care of. His sweet girl. So good.

His shirt is the first to go, left somewhere at the doorway of your room. He’ll grab it later. For now, even though no one else is in this house, he shuts your door, wanting both of you to be completely consumed with one another and nothing else. He pulls the rest of his clothes off as he makes his way to the edge of your bed, leaning over. Your eyes are still downcast until his fingers are on your chin, bringing your attention to him.

He can’t help but melt into a puddle with the way you’re looking at him. It’s almost as if he created the entire Universe for you. “Mi alma (my soul),” he says. “You’re always so good for me. Always.” He brings your lips together in a soft embrace. You chase his touch as best as his grip allows you to when he pulls away.

Even softer than the kiss, he asks “How do you want me?”

“Doesn’t matter,” you respond, “I just need to feel you. Every single part of you, Daddy, I-”

He cuts your babbling off with a kiss, and this time, he doesn’t break it as he pushes you to lay on your back. He doesn’t break it as he lines himself up with you. He doesn’t break it as your legs go to wrap around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. He foregos all forms of prep or foreplay, knowing you need him just as desperately as he needs you.

The rest of your guys’ night is filled with exactly this. Feeling—and filling—each other in the deepest ways possible. He makes you cum on his cock several times before he fills you to the brim with his spend, kissing and licking into your mouth, all over your neck, and any other areas he can reach without straying too far from your face. He sees his entire existence in your eyes; he needs to be there as he gives himself to you.

Reluctantly, he pulls away, lowering himself down your body and settling into the space between your thighs. He marvels at what a pretty mess both of you made, your shine all over as his cum begins to leak its way out of you. He leans forward, flat tongue licking up a slow, wet path across your entire sex. He stays there for hours, pulling climax and climax out of you, his belly feeling full at how much he’s taken from you.

Even as you reach the territory of overstimulation, you don’t care. You want more. You need more.

Joel makes his way back up to you, missing the feel of your mouth on his. As he looks up though, he sees tears pooling in your eyes. His hands immediately go to your face, thumbs catching the runaway tear. “Talk to me, baby,” his voice quivers, his feelings heightened at the emotional intensity of the last several hours.

“I-” you choke back a sob. “Please don’t ever leave me, baby. I don’t think-” you take a shaky breath, more tears escaping your eyes. “I can’t live without you, baby, I need you, I love you, please don’t ever leave-”

His lips are back on yours, soft and all-consuming, stealing your anxieties and stowing them far away where they will never poison your mind ever again.

“Never,” he says. “I’m yours, my sweet girl. Always. I’m not goin’ anywhere that’s not with you. I love you more than anythin’ in this fuckin’ world. You’re never gettin’ rid of me, ya hear, mi flor? (my flower),” he says as he gives your head a small shake, making sure his words are etching themselves into every groove of your brain so you never forget it.

It’s been a week since that night you and Joel had your house to yourselves, and he still can’t shake the burst of insecurity that infiltrated your mind. Which is why he finds himself at a local (witch)craft store—way out of his depth but still set on finding the perfect thing to seal his love for you.

You two have discussed the concept of a collar before, and you showed a genuine interest. It was a tangible reminder of who you belonged to, and it definitely made your heart skip a beat. However, you weren’t so attuned to the idea of the actual image of a traditional collar, and neither was Joel. The conversation was cut short because you got pulled into another task that had to be taken care of, and the topic was never brought about again. But Joel thinks about it more often than you think.

In some dynamics, collars are accessories that a Dominant and submissive work their way up to. In a way, the collar symbolized a promise. It symbolized forever. For some, it was their wedding ring equivalent. That was what intrigued Joel so much. So, after last week, the idea has been eating away at him.

And that’s when he saw it. A beautiful necklace, the chain, a mix of green crystals—your favorite color—all various shades, with a beautiful, metal pendant sitting at the heart of the necklace. It was a short chain, slightly longer than how a collar would wrap around your neck, but still mimicked the effect of one. You talk often about how much you love the moon and that night you talked about the amazing energy the moon provides. The pendant was a moon with a star hanging from the top of the moon’s crescent figure. It was perfect. It was you.

He finds the worker and goes through the motions of purchasing the necklace for you. Of course, Joel wanted a tangible thing to symbolize his promise to you, and that’s when another idea struck him. He turned back around into the store.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” he says. “Ya wouldn’t happen to have any rings, would ya? Preferably one with a moon?”

The lady gives a knowing smile. “Right this way,” she says. She may not understand the dynamic between the two of you, but she definitely can recognize a lovestruck man when she sees one.

He calls you on his way home from the store.

“Hi, mi luna (my moon),” he says. “What are you up to right now?”

“Hi, baby,” you respond giddily, his mere presence, whether on the phone or in person, always makes your mood one hundred times better. Hearing his little nickname for you though throws you off guard, forcing you to ignore his question. “Luna?”

He smiles. “It means moon.”

“No, yeah, I know that, baby,” you softly chuckle, “I meant, what inspired it?”

“No reason,” he says nonchalantly. “Was that okay though?”

“I like anything that comes outta your mouth, baby,” your voice laced with a filth he knows all too well.

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his cock from stirring. “Darlin’,” he says, voice strained.

You stifle a laugh, knowing how easy it is to get him going. “Hmmmm?”

“You better choose your next words very wisely, girl.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you offer quickly as you fill his ears with your addicting laughter, “I’m done, I promise.”

He grumbles something incoherent, ever your handsome grump, then reminds you about his question.

“Oh, right, sorry! I just got done cooking lunch for everyone. I’m in my room now, though.”

“Can you come over for a bit?”

“Always. You home now?”

“Just parkin’, baby.”

“On my way, Sir,” you say, holding in another little giggle.

“Fuckin’ trouble,” you hear him say before he ends the call.

You meet him as he gets out his car, him pulling you in for a bruising kiss that immediately has your core pulsing. “Well, hello to you too, cowboy,” you smirk as he pulls away. He smacks your ass as he turns you around and starts guiding you inside, one hand on your hip, the other holding the bag with your new necklace inside.

Not wanting him to let go of you, you spin in his arm and reach for his keys, turning back to unlock his front door.

“So,” he starts as you break away from him, making your way to his couch. He immediately goes to the kitchen to grab you a glass of water, placing it in your hands rather than the table because he knows you probably haven’t had a moment to hydrate yourself, having just finished taking care of your family as he called you.

You drink half the glass gratefully, bringing the rest to his mouth as he sits next to you, knowing he probably hasn’t hydrated himself either. He finishes it then sets the glass down on the coffee table.

“I got you somethin’.” He tries to sound mysterious, but really he’s sounding like an excited schoolboy ready to share his treasure with the class.

“Oh yeah?” you say. “May I ask why? It wasn’t expensive, right?” You soften at your last question.

He knows you get a little apprehensive at the idea of money being spent on you. But he abides by your wishes too much to his liking, so this, he allows himself. “The number don’t matter, baby. Close your eyes and turn around.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” you mutter under your breath, adjusting yourself to be between his legs, his one stretched across the couch as the other hangs off the side.

Once you settle in front of him, he leans over to grab the bag from the table and pull the necklace out. “Eyes closed, baby?”

“Mhm.”

“You remember a while back our conversation on collars?”

“Yes?” you say, a questioning inflection present.

“Well…” Joel trails off. Right as you jump to speak at his weird behavior, you feel cold metal grace the skin of your neck. You gasp at the sudden change in temperature, fighting for your life to keep your eyes closed until he tells you to do otherwise.

“I know neither of us wanted the traditional look. Something more sly has always been our style, huh? I hope I chose okay,” he says softly.

“I’m gonna cry, can I please open my eyes now?”

“Yeah, bab- no, actually, wait,” he says, pulling you to stand up, his hands on your hips, guiding you to the mirror in his en suite bathroom. “Okay, yeah. Open.”

The second your eyes open and land onto the ethereal necklace resting on your chest, you can’t help the flood that falls from your eyes. “Joel,” you breathe out. “Baby, oh my god.”

“Is it alright?”

You turn in his arms, your eyes now directly on his instead of through your reflection. “Baby, really? Is it alright? This is the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on,” your voice cracking through each word.

His cheeks are a little blushed, slightly bashful at your praise. ��I just- I wasn’t sure what to choose or what crystal had what magic, but what really sold me was the moon,” he says as his hand comes up to caress the pendant.

You respond to him by pulling him in for a kiss. One in which you hope tells him everything he needs to know about how grateful and how truly, deeply in love with him you are. His arms snake around your waist, pulling you flush against his body as he kisses into you, replicating the same feeling back to you. You begin to smile through the kiss as something else clicks for you. You pull away from him.

“Is this why you called me luna earlier?”

“You don’t like it?”

“No, baby, I actually really love it,” you smile up at him, butterflies erupting in his belly at the sight. “Coming from only you though.” His hand snakes up to grab your jaw, pulling you into his mouth as he whispers mi luna before crashing himself onto you for another kiss.

You pull away from him, breathless, and turn to face the mirror again. You’re too entranced by the beautiful jewelry to keep your eyes off of it for too long. His hands snake around your waist, and it’s then that you notice it.

You freeze. You grab his left hand, an antique looking moon, identical to the one on your neck, wrapped around his ring finger, staring back at you. Your eyes flick back up to your guys’ reflection, meeting his eyes. “Was waitin’ for you to notice,” he says.

If you thought you were sobbing before, then you’re an absolute wailing mess now, hiccuping like a little child who is yet to learn how to control their emotions. “I love you so fucking much,” you say as best as you can in between each hiccupped breath you take.

He turns you back to face him, cupping your face with both hands, peppering your face with kisses everywhere he can manage. Soft I love you’s leave his mouth in a chant, praying to his one and only Goddess.

He lets you cry it out, he knows you need to. As soon as you're less of a blubbering mess, he’ll remind you that he is forever yours until you choose otherwise. He’ll remind you that although he takes charge ninety-nine percent of the time, it’s because you let him.

He’ll remind you just how much he’s irrevocably in love with you, verbally, physically, and every other way he can. From now until forever.

End Note: Thank you all so much for reading! Likes, comments, reblogs, etc. — all your support means the absolute world to me. I wouldn’t be able to do this without all of you. Thank you so so so much. There are genuinely not enough words to express my gratitude. As always feedback (at a technical sense) is also super super helpful whether it is constructive or positive! Anything helps me to be the best writer that I can be. All my love! Xo

Tags: @javierpena-inatacvest @katiexpunk @janaispunk @farmerlarrry @mellymbee @jobee403 @soavenuepenguin @survivingandenduring @getitoutofmymind @rainbowcosmicchaos @untamedheart81 @babygal-babygal @pedritoferg @akah565 @pedrostories

EDIT: As of the new year 2024, I no longer do taglists!! Follow @endlessthxxghtsnotifs and turn on the notifications to be updated when new stories come out!!

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us3rnam3-r3dact3d · 1 month

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I’m back on my Redacted shit, here are some Post Inversion headcanons

As a note, I’m not a doctor. I did some cursory googling about the medical stuff, but I very well might be wrong. On that note TW: injury, some discussion of… guts… and general angst.

David feels weird for days after the Inversion, like there’s something moving around inside of him. At random points during the day, he’ll stop what he’s doing, press his hand to his chest, and hold his breath until it passes. He asks Sam about it, and Sam explains; “You were essentially disemboweled, David. We had to put parts of you back in while we were underground. In surgery and in major healing, we usually take the time to arrange the organs carefully. But… we didn’t have the time. You bleeding out was the bigger concern. But your organs know where they’re supposed to be. What you’re feeling is everything… finding it’s way back.” David nodded and thanked him, and promptly locked himself in the bathroom and vomited for half an hour.

The entire pack stayed at David and Angel’s house for about two weeks post Inversion. Asher and Christian were the worst off, and spent pretty much the whole time sleeping on the sectional in the living room. At some point, somebody turned on Family Guy for background noise and it ran uninterrupted for pretty much the whole two weeks. Now, Ash and Christian have very intense opinions about Family Guy, and Ash claims that he very strange, Family Guy themed dreams to this day from how much he slept with it playing in the background. David is still angry that his recommended feed on Hulu is forever changed because of this.

Sam doesn’t sleep for a week after. It starts innocent enough, just him trying to run interference between Vincent and his new progeny and the pack being largely down for the count. He and Darlin’ end up taking a lot on in the days following the Inversion since they’re on their feet and, largely, in one piece. He gets pretty far running on fumes, but Vincent catches him after a week. Sam had been staying with him to help with Lovely, and Vincent walked in to see him staring motionlessly into the fridge. Vincent didn’t know how long he’d been there, but after calling Sam’s name and getting no response, he starts timing it. When they hit fifteen minutes, he escorted Sam to the nearest flat surface and forces him to sleep.

Damien developed very bad sleep paralysis after the Inversion. Almost every night, he would wake up freezing cold and to a shade hovering over his bed, claws extended getting ready to tear him into ribbons all over again. It would take two or three minutes for him to break out of it, and even longer for him to convince himself that the shade wasn’t real. He took to sleeping with all of his lights on and his heat turned up. It got better when he moved in with Huxley, but it never goes away entirely. It gets worse in the winter, especially when he’s reminded about the Inversion in some way. The Moonbound Solstice is particularly difficult.

#redacted asmr #my redacted content #redacted damien #redacted david #redacted damn #redacted headcanons #redacted sam #redacted asher #redacted christian #redacted vincent #redacted huxley #redacted inversion

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vintagetimetarot · 5 months

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What will your December be like? ❄️☃️ (Christmas themed) + love messages ♡︎

Hello everyone! Before I take my hiatus, I wanted to give y’all a reading to make up for not answering asks, or them being put on hold. Today I decided to make a monthly reading, and I added some love messages as well if you are interested, and to again make up for the lack of asks answered. Let’s get to it! (Also, I know this is Christmas themed, but you don’t have to be a certain religion for this reading at all, I’m not even Christian myself.) take what resonates and simply disregard what doesn’t. Pick a vintage Christmas album below!

Pile 1: I feel like the overall theme for your month is that you need to let go of the negatives currently going on in your life and what is making you dissatisfied. I see you guys might also have seasonal depression? But anyways. You’re gonna have to work very hard to make this a good month. I feel like you are struggling to stay positive or be happy right now, and if you don’t fix this it’ll just carry on into the next month. The cards suggest you can have a great month by putting yourself out there more in all aspects of your life. Go for that job you want! Kiss that guy/girl you like! Follow your dreams! But also be realistic with yourself and revaluate what you want first for this month, before you plan to pursue. You still have a couple weeks! I see this being a balanced month for you when you work hard. I think you’ll be improving in your job/school studies this month, regardless of what happens. I also think your personal relationships will be growing more this month, I think new people are going to enter your life. But I’m getting that you guys are guarded, but let these people in! They aren’t here to sabotage you. This will be a month of personal growth and divine timing and retribution for you, take it how it resonates. In terms of love this month, I see you exploring your romantic feelings, but this mainly will be about staying optimistic about your love life and working on self love this month. Love can’t fully come into your life if you can’t love yourself first for right now! Sorry if this was quite short, but this is all I got, I hope this resonated.

Pile 2: I think December is going to a very happy and successful mont for you. You may find yourself spending time and improving relationships with your family and friends. I also see your manifestations coming to fruition, whatever they are, this is your message that it’s coming this month! Things are being worked on behind the scenes. But these could be delayed if you keep up a lack of faith, which I see most of you guys have right now. Just because your manifestations don’t come ASAP doesn’t mean they aren’t coming. I see you making new friends this month, your social circle is going to expand greatly. I think you’ve been not your best lately, and that cycle is going to come to an end this month. I think this is mainly because you are learning to accept help from others. Things overall are just going to go smoothly this month, especially the holidays will be a healing time for you. In terms of love, I see that you make be deceived on what you have convinced yourself is happening right now, very specific message, but if you have an ex, they may be trying to win you back this month, but don’t fall for it. You two broke up for a reason. For those who are single, I think someone in your life currently is going to want to take things to a serious level with you. This is the time to express your love and not hold back, so things work out. I honestly feel like this is more casual and more familial like love, I’m not getting the vibe of a HUGE romantic month honestly. But it’s still gonna be great. That’s all I got, I hope this resonated!

Pile 3: This month is going to be go fast, and major change is going to happen. This is change you’ve been waiting for, but it won’t happen out of nowhere, YOU are gonna make the changes yourself believe it or not this month. Whatever you’ve been waiting for this what this is. You may find people being kinder to you and more generous this month. I think you are going to be extremely productive in terms of work/school. I think you are also going to make a significant connection while you’re at it in this area of life while you increase in productivity. I see you turning your back on things that don’t serve you anymore and finally taking the lead. This could be unhealthy relationships, stepping up your game in work/school, leaving a home environment or area that caused you turmoil, and more. You’ll be faced to make big choices this month as well, which will have large effects. In regards to love, I think you still need to wait or put a pause on that. Good things are coming, but not this month in love. You’ll be very focused on material things for now. The universe is just taking its time to make sure it all works out, and give you the best romantic situation possible. In terms of romance, you could be thinking about past relationships and exes, which is why you aren’t ready for something new yet. I think you are still inexperienced when it comes to love. Your reading is quite short, this month won’t be too eventful, but things will still change. That’s all I got, hope it resonates.

Pile 4: I think you guys are suffering right now. A lot. The past year or months might have been really rough on you. But this month, things will change, I promise. I think you may take a trip this month and that is going to be very healing for you. Or your travel life (small or big) will help you a lot this month. Your relationships will be crucial this month, all around. I think your messages will improve this month drastically, especially if they were previously causing you turmoil. I think many problems are going to get resolved this month, but with time more than anything. I see your mental state improving and getting out of this self deprecating mindset. I think with your relationships, you’ll become better at resolving conflict this you. In terms of romance, it’s safe for you to love. I think you’ll actually have people admiring you and pursuing you romantically more this month. For example, you may notice people flirting with you more. I don’t see this as straight up relationships left and right, but you’ll be discovering and exploring more of your romantic feelings this month. You’ll decide what you really want or will be, and that’s why you probably won’t be pursuing a relationship. I didn’t get much for this pile, so I advise you to go to another pile you were drawn to for more information on this month. That’s all I got, I hope this resonates.

#tarot reading #pick a card #pick a pile #tarot

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sheinthatfandom · 4 months

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Time to make my Worlds End predictions.

Even though it’s not until tomorrow I’m feeling pretty good and wanna focus on something that makes me happy soooo wrestling. Gonna just put everything under the cut cause it’s a lot of matches and I have thoughts.

Zero hour

20 man battle royale. Not putting the pic cause there’s no faces anyway.

Why are we having a battle royale for the PPV this coulda been a womens match. Oh or a women’s battle royale. I have no idea who in this but since Lee Moriarty isn’t already on any posters for this PPV I want him to win. Scorpio sky should not be in this or wardlow just no neither should go near this belt again. Also is Chuck healed yet? I’ll also accept Chuck winning

The dream is for Yuta to walk out with two belts. Realistically, never gonna happen. Hook has never lost clean and after the last loss he shouldn’t lose to shenanigans again. What I do want is for Yuta to bring the monster out of hook. I want this to be a blood bath and for both of them to get the crowd on their feet and chanting fight forever. I want when this match is over for the ftw belt to mean the bloodiest hardcore shit in aew. Hook is most likely winning this but I want it to feel deserved.

Andrade lost the c2 and with CJ still gone after the infection/surgery it would make sense for him to lose because she’s not around to cheer him on and manage him to greatness. This should be miros match to win but it would be great if Andrade mimicked some of miros moves making it seem like CJ might have taught Andrade her own husbands stuff. That’s for commentary to put over but if it’s the usual folks I doubt they’d do that and will most likely be talking about what they had for lunch 🙄

So originally it was gonna be Kyle but I guess now we’re getting Takeshita. Which to me means they didn’t want the losing team to be3 people with belts so they moved him out. Hopefully it’s that and not an injury. Either way fuck this match Takeshita shoulda been in the battle royale. The only good thing about this match is Ricky and Will (Hobbs) being on the same team again and it could be interesting seeing them move fluidly together and Bill like 👀 are you trying to take a big booty princess???? Especially when Ricky makes it such a point that he and bill don’t know each other aren’t close aren’t friends and don’t even have a tag name and it’s all on purpose and by design. (Because the last person he trusted was will and will went after his neck.) And then Jericho is out here naming himself after nazi sympathizers. We already know whose winning and I hate it all.

IF SWERVE DONT WIN I WILL PERSONALLY SHOVE MY FOOT UP TKS NARROW ASS!!!! This man needs to be put on the fast path to the world title and losing to Lee when I don’t see any legitimate story for Lee after this ain’t it. If they have to let it be Nana coming in with shenanigans and run this back when Swerve is world champ.

I hope everyone has fun 🥰🥰

I’m hoping Lethal gets knocked tf out early and we can just watch everyone fuck nasty for 20 mins before Danny pins Lethal for the win. (And then we get Danny in a winners room with only the BCC cause he’s a good boy and deserves it) also Danny should wear the panties since he’s teaming with Bryan. 🥵

As much as I’m done with Christian as tnt champ adam doesn’t deserve it. I personally want Christian to walk out with the belt. But I can see tk giving it to Adam and with no dq maybe lucha helps adam and turns on Christian to keep a story going. But again I don’t want Adam to win here.

I love you mox so much you’re my fave wrestler in the history of forever you are the heart and soul of professional wrestling… buuuuut Eddie is and should be the one to walk out with 3 belts. The story that has been building not even for months for years is for Eddie to take this and it’s the only ending. Nothing else this is for Eddie

I’m not ready for Toni to lose the belt and I’ve never been a riho fan. I don’t hate her but I def don’t see her as champion at least not for aew. If Toni does lose it would be cause Mariah cost her but again I don’t want that. It could also be Mariah’s first match be against riho cause she costs riho this match if they don’t want riho to lose clean.

I want mjf to win only because I do not want Joe as a transitional champion and I really really want swerve to get the belt early in 2024. The devil needs to show his face already. Also who tf is our roh tag team champs right now? It better be the kingdom. Plus if joe loses and he willingly gave up his tv belt like can you imagine how unhinged he will be? It’s gonna be so sexy 😏 and then imagine zack poking him like Samoa Joseph I guess we know whose the greatest television champ is don’t we. This man is gonna be a menace if he loses will make it everyones problem.

Here’s hoping the devil is Adam or Kyle 🤞

#aew #aew worlds end #aew predictions #worlds end predictions #Loren rambles #fantasy booking #long post for ts

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buggie-hagen · 2 years

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Sermon for Fifth Sunday after Pentecost (7/10/22)

Primary Text | Luke 10:25-37

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Dear People of God,

The lawyer asked Jesus, “Who is my neighbor?” (Luke 10:29). Jesus responds with what we call the Parable of the Good Samaritan. It is both a summons to love our neighbor in the most radical way and a picture of God’s fierce grace for us in Jesus Christ. When the lawyer asked Jesus “Who is my neighbor?” he asked Jesus with the intent to justify himself. To make himself look good. If he’s able to get Jesus to say only certain people are his neighbor and not others, he doesn’t have to worry about the people he has failed to love. Same it is for us, it is all too easy for us to come up with ways to justify why we didn’t need to love someone when we otherwise could. Think of Jesus’ call that we should love our enemies and not just those who love us back. To love our enemies, and not even curse them. It is impossible by human ability. We must pray for the power of the Holy Spirit. In the parable of the Good Samaritan, Jesus takes the opportunity jeopardize the lawyer’s attempt at self-justification. He turns the lawyer’s question upside down. Instead of “Who is my neighbor?” Jesus asks the question “Who was a neighbor?” You see the difference? Jesus removes the hat that qualifies someone as neighbor and puts the hat on the lawyer’s head—to be someone’s neighbor is what is important here. Especially for those of us who would claim the name of Christian. It doesn’t matter what we think of the man lying half-dead on the side of the road—we see someone in need, we help them. We attend to both the spiritual and material needs of people. For their sorrowing heart we give them good news, for their naked body we give them clothes on their back.

The Samaritan was this man’s neighbor. Why? Mercy. He showed the half dead man mercy. He didn’t leave him to suffer and die, he didn’t pass by on the other side like the others did, he came near to him, he bandaged his wounds, he poured oil and wine to sterilize and heal, he put him on his own traveling animal, he put him up in a hotel, and he took care of all the expenses so that this man would survive. Jesus’ call for us is to go and do the same. We love our neighbor by being a neighbor. The priest and the Levite ignored the man perhaps because he was dirty, bloody, unclean to them. It was inconvenient. Or maybe they felt too busy or they had more important things to do. But Christian love takes no account of these things. Christian love drops everything, takes no regard for itself, doesn’t care about recognition or gratitude, Christian love is not about being repaid, it goes above and beyond, and sees to it that the one who is in need has been shown mercy.

If I ended the sermon here, I will have preached to you Christian love. But I will not yet have preached to you the Christian gospel. They are different things entirely. The Christian gospel is God’s sheer favor on sinners through the death and resurrection of Christ. God justifies us while we are still ungodly, he justifies us by faith. The parable of the Good Samaritan is a beautiful illustration of God’s fierce grace. God has shown us mercy! We are the ones lying half dead on the side of the road. What can someone who is half dead do for themself? Nothing. The robbers have come by and addled and mangled us by the powers of sin, death, and the devil. Our condition is dire. We are wholly dependent on Another to revive us. Having compassion, God has chosen to be the Ultimate Neighbor to us. And that is the work of God revealed in Jesus Christ and in him alone. For in Jesus Christ, God comes near to your side, he doesn’t avoid you, he doesn’t ignore what you are going through. He sees you where you are, what you are going through, he sees that you are captive to sin and cannot free yourself—and his heart is filled with compassion. He doesn’t care that you are dirty, unclean, bloodied, or unworthy.

He sees your wounds and puts bandages around them. He heals your wounds by his wounds. “By his wounds we are healed.” He heals you by the wounds in his hands, the wound in his side. His death is now the source of your life. You were left for dead but in Christ you now are alive. He provides you with all the means you need so that you may not only have life, but eternal life. He doesn’t leave you to wonder what he thinks about you, he puts his word in the mouth of a preacher, he puts his word in the bread and wine of the Lord’s Supper, and he puts his word in the water holy baptism. He says, “Here, in these things, you have mercy. Here, in these things, I give you mercy.” That is God’s mercy. In each of these he gives you his Holy Spirit to comfort and console you and strengthen you as you face all things. It is Christ who redeems you from the dead, who forgives you all your sins every single day, who shows you mercy even when you don’t deserve it. Christ is the one in whom you will always know God’s compassion on sinners. That is the Christian gospel.

#Christian #preaching #Lutheran #theology #gospel #Good Samaritan

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automatismoateo · 10 months

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Born again Christian mother gives an ultimatum to move out because I dont believe Jesus can heal me. via /r/atheism

Born again Christian mother gives an ultimatum to move out because I don’t believe Jesus can heal me.

I live and breathe Jesus. Living in the presence of Jesus reminds me everyday of how absentent and doesn’t give a f**k about us , but my devout mother doesn’t see it. Since I had the accident that caused my Avascular necrosis and left me disabled whom I partly blame for leaving my wounds untreated when it could have cost less to fix at 19, than it would today. Instead of seeking professional help, my mom sought help in the hands of pastors. I have since lost count of the number of pastors in different states we’ve travelled to meet promising me total healing. My condition has turned me into a lab rat for pastors that want to test their spiritual powers, it is so dehumanizing and I could never convince to see her to see it. The amount we’ve lost in our search for miracles could have covered for my surgery. I tried to tell my mother this and she called me a demon and the author of my misfortune. She also said suffering on earth and in hell is going to be my fate if I don’t repent. She said all these because I refused to see another fake pastor. She also said she couldn’t live under one roof with a demon so I had to leave. I thought it was all a joke but I have seen gathering all my stuff together. I am still in shock because her actions are not in line with what Jesus preaches.

Repeatedly my mother would take the side of Jesus instead of mine even though I’m the only one present. I have been assaulted numerous times in church by pastors but guess whose side of the story is believed. I am told not to speak Ill of the man God. It’s okay now though because I no longer go to church, my pain wouldn’t allow her force me to nowadays and ever since I got off my meds and can no longer walk without aid, we sought for help in getting a wheelchair but the church couldn’t afford to help and general oversea got a new Jeep the following month.

One positive though, If I end up being thrown out at least I’ll get a break from Jesus.

Submitted June 20, 2023 at 05:58PM by dontknowdontcarew (From Reddit https://ift.tt/bHnS59r)

#reddit

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 3 years

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if carlisle and dumbledore were put in each other's respective stories / dilemmas , how do you think they would react? how would a carlisle cullen have dealt with voldemort/grindelwald? and how dumbledore would have dealt with vampirism, etc? i almost view the two of them as a sort of foil to each other, not yet able to articulate why or how though

I mean, they'd live completely different lives, because they're completely different characters. It's very unlikely they'd end up in the same situations.

But alright.

Carlisle is Dumbledore

Carlisle's born in a working class family that quickly begins to fall apart. His father's sent to prison, his mother dies, his sister has a chronic illness that will never disappear, and it's just him and his brother left with very little chance of a future between them.

Handsome Gellert Grindelwald moves in next store with grand, new, ideas concerning the muggles.

Now, this particular Carlisle won't be Christian, he's a pureblood wizard and we can pretty safely assume that the Dumbledores were no more religious than any other wizarding family is.

It's a little up in the air whether Carlisle would be seduced by Gellert or not. Gellert is learned, foreign, and has all these radical, new, theories that weren't very prevalent at the time (well, anti muggleborn sentiment was, the facism was new). On the other hand though, Carlisle is also a man who once radically changed his own beliefs to something that went against nearly every edict of his previous religion. This is not a guy who takes things for granted and is not afraid to both confront himself and the true nature of the world he lives in.

And he has a deep respect for human life that, had it been any lesser, would have undoubtedly led to him eating humans as a vampire.

So, I'm going to say no, or if he does, it lasts up until Gellert says, "We should totally make the muggles our slaves." The muggles may have irreparably damaged Carlisle's sister, they may be hated by society, but they are free thinking beings who should be enslaved to no one. Carlsile raises his pacifism flag.

As a result, Gellert probably thinks he's a tool. Hot, of course, and intelligent, but a useless tool. Without somebody to bounce ideas off of/confirm his radicalization, Gellert has little to no interest in Carlisle or any of the Dumbledores. Gellert spends his time in Godric's Hollow then goes elsewhere, Ariana lives, at least for now, unclear how long her lifespan was going to be otherwise, Carlisle does not have the Gellert incident, and he and Abeforth remain on good terms.

Carlisle graduates Hogwarts and either is a) bullied into taking Flamel's apprenticeship opportunity by Abeforth who screams "DUDE, GET YOURSELF A FUTURE or b) immediately sets about trying to find a relatively high paying job so he can support the family. In the case of B, I imagine he goes to work for the goblins who seem to hire those straight out of Hogwarts with good enough grades. In the case of A, well, he goes to study alchemy.

Knowing Carlisle, he does a bastardization of both. He studies alchemy under Flamel and then works nights as a bartender in Paris or something to that effect. When he finishes, what career he does then is out in the air.

Given that, as a vampire, he had all the choices in the world open to him in terms of education (and tried many different things) before eventually settling on and sticking with human medicine despite the dangers, I think that's telling. Carlisle probably tries to get a job in something healing related.

However, that strays more into the "What if Carlisle was in the wizarding world" vs. "What if Carlisle was Dumbledore" so we'll say that the idea of teaching appeals to him and he returns to Hogwarts for the Transfiguration position.

This all goes well except then there's a first world war on, the muggle world goes completely insane, and no one understands why Carlisle's so upset.

And now we enter the world where Carlisle starts really making choices in Dumbledore's shoes.

First, Tom Riddle. Carlisle, I imagine, makes 100,000 times of a better impression than Dumbledore on the young Tom. He does not, for one, light his wardrobe on fire and threaten him. Carlisle might think this kid is weird, but he lives in poverty and an orphanage, much of his behavior can be explained from that. I imagine Carlisle becomes determined to take Tom under his wing.

I imagine at first Tom thinks this is excellent, LOOK HOW MUCH HE'S MANIPULATING THIS ADULT! And then he realizes that, no, Carlisle is perfectly aware he's a little shit. He just likes talking to Tom after classes about how to fit in with pureblood society/weird esoteric muggle philosophy.

Trouble is, Carlisle is so damn likeable (see his friends all over the world), that Tom can't help but like him. When the Blitz begins, and Carlisle undoubtedly offers Tom (and any other muggleborn who was not moved to the country) a place to stay, that seals the deal, the wizarding world might suck but Carlisle's a pretty cool guy.

Of course, Tom still thinks the government should be reformed or overthrown, but he and Carlisle actually sit down to talk about things like communism and facism (Carlisle's not a fan though the modern, muggle, form of democracy not practiced in the wizarding world is a weird concept to him).

My point being, it's unlikely this Tom Riddle becomes Voldemort or even really aspires to become him. You want more on that topic, check out these posts.

Grindelwald meanwhile, becomes a bigger and bigger deal, and things start looking... bad. However, it's not immediately obvious that Carlisle's the one who should do something about it. He's not a duelist, he's a professor, and his job is to teach the children. He may have been alright in school, but that was decades ago now. More, unlike Albus, he feels no personal responsibility, he knew Gellert, briefly, yes, but they had no real connection. Gellert spoke about insane things and Carlisle said, "Mm, don't like". Add to that that Carlisle's a pacifist, he's going to insist that someone trained for the position do the job.

Given canon, this means that Grindelwald likely invades and takes over wizarding England and, with a strong enough foothold, enacts his "enslave the muggles" plan. Which very well might result in a nuclear holocaust as Grindelwald was likely not keeping up with muggle technology and the muggle world war.

The muggle world collapses, which in turn causes society collapse, and the world may or may not be a nuclear wasteland that Tom and Carlisle get to wander around.

If Carlisle by some divine intervention has a prophetic dream of "YOU MUST DEFEAT GRINDELWALD OR DOOM DOOM DOOM" then he goes and tries to defeat Grindelwald. Considering Grindelwald has the elder wand, he probably needs Deus ex Phoenix to win, but if it worked for Dumbledore it might work for Carlisle.

Well. No one saw that coming.

Carlisle's an overnight sensation and a national hero, the hero of Western Europe even. He's suddenly being presented medals, honors, seats of power, and Carlisle desperately tries to refuse, feeling very squeamish that he's being given these things because he took it upon himself to murder another human being (yes, even a war lord).

Tom finds this funny and Abeforth is ureservedly proud and tells everybody.

All Carlisle wanted to do was teach children and now he has to reside over trials in the Wizengamot. This is terrible.

As for what happens to the wizarding world from there, well, inertia probably carries it along for a good while. However, antimuggleborn sentiment is still on the rise an even without Voldemort I imagine there's quite a bit of unrest.

I imagine Carlisle, not wanting in any way to be a political figure, is not nearly as outspoken as Dumbledore on anything. He just wants to be headmaster, guys, leave him alone.

Tom may or may not go into politics and do it for him. But he probably ends up teaching too and just laughs as the country collapses.

Harry Potter is an ordinary student who has no prophecy surrounding him. Carlisle did not recruit children to join an illegal resistance movement nor does he have a plethora of spies and moles in the ministry.

Harry Potter canon does not happen.

Dumbledore is Carlisle

Well, Dumbledore undoubtedly also burned witches and very much believed in their existence. An irony there. He may chase the vampire, probably isn't first in the mob, in which case he remains human or dies.

If he does survive being bitten, I imagine it pains him for a while, but I don't see Albus having the same willpower as Carlisle. Or at least, not as much, Albus probably ends up eating people. He at first probably tries to be picky and eats those who harm society in some way (pick your poison for what that means) and then over time becomes less picky.

They're just humans, after all.

Albus probably isn't invited to stay in Volterra, he's not all that interesting. He doesn't become a human doctor, he's just your ordinary vampire. He might hang around libraries as much as he can but that's about as far as that extends.

He probably turns a Gellert equivalent at some point as a mate and they have a grand time together.

Edward is never turned nor the rest of the Cullens and Bella dies in a parking lot.

#twilight #twilight meta #twilight headcanon #twilight renaissance #carlisle cullen #albus dumbledore #meta #headcanon #opinion #harry potter #harry potter meta #harry potter headcanon

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zen-garden-gnome · 3 years

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Long post about whiteness

I’m seeing a lot of false-start questions based on a narrow understanding of whiteness. Whiteness (and recovery from whiteness) can be tricky to unpack because it has a lot of layers that have been added over the years. So you’ll run into a layer and may be tempted to stop there, but it goes deeper.

1) Racial identity was a vague belief before it was officially named, but it’s not as old as many think it is. Prior to European Expansionism, travelers and merchants and militaries alike have generally referred to people based on their place of origin or their language. The idea of vaguely lumping hundreds of ethnicities together based on a handful of physical attributes started to kick up when Portugal began capturing and enslaving huge numbers of sub-Saharan Africans in the mid-1400s. As slave traders and “explorers” brought shiploads of captured, multi-ethnic Africans to Portuguese auction blocks to be traded all over Europe, what set these enslaved people apart from anyone else there (including other enslaved people) was a) the fact that they were to some degree darker than the Portuguese despite displaying a wide range of skin tones, b) were from Africa at the time, and c) were enslaved. When Christian militant and royal biographer Gomes de Zurara was hired in 1453 to write about the life and “accomplishments” of Portugal’s most famous slave trader, Infante Henrique aka Prince Henry the Navigator, he officiated, in writing, the idea that all these newly enslaved people were their own class of people with no differentiation between them. Here, race is a burgeoning social narrative invented to praise European slave traders, and this racial concept is defined in relation to slavery, African origins, and skin tone. Racial concepts appeared in tandem with racist concepts, because races began to be envisioned in order to excuse the abuse of others. The ideas of whiteness and blackness were birthed simultaneously, specifically around slavery, and they became deeply entrenched beliefs before they were ever officially named.

2. “Negro” became the first major racial term before “white” was widely used, binding the development of racial concepts even more securely with the practice of European slavery. In fact, race and racism became encoded in colonial-American law in 1640, when African servant John Punch ran away from his European buyers along with two European servants. He was eventually recaptured, as were his Dutch and Scottish companions. However, the colonial judicial system sentenced Punch to a lifetime of slavery, while the two Europeans had an extra year added to their initial servitude. This marks the first record of a Euro/American legal precedence for lifetime sentencing of enslavement based openly on race. John Punch’s African lineage and the other servants’ European lineage were the differences between their sentencing. Here, European origin was what freed a person from being of the “negro race” and therefore severely reduced one’s likelihood to enslavement. It was also the requirement for incoming settlers who wanted to be able to buy land. Only white people were allowed to develop inter-generational wealth, at a time when this continent was being carved up by land speculators for massive profits.

3. The concept of whiteness was officially named by Carl Linnaeus in order to rank Europeans as superior among other conceptual categories of people. It involved grouping hundreds of ethnic groups together to form white, yellow, red, and black races in he text “System Naturale" (1735). While primarily an introduction to our current taxonomy system, it included these racial categories. It was highly regarded by Europeans eager to cast themselves as superior because it a) created a popular “scientific” framework for excusing the most obscene (and profitable) crimes against humanity, b) officially outlined/invented the white race and identified it with everything good and the black race as everything bad, and then c) clearly defined Europeans as the basis of whiteness, “Homo sapiens europaeus.” Here, whiteness is coined to describe European ancestry, particularly in relation to “grotesque” non-whites.

4. An individual’s personal ideas of whiteness fluctuates with time and circumstances. As governments, social institutions, literature, etc all work to redefine history and clean up their image, people have different/less information to work with, but the effects are the same. The popular spoken definition of whiteness is often simply a reference to a relatively pale skin tone caused by European ancestry. Obviously there are pale people in other places around the world who aren’t European and weren’t related to the slavery of European Expansionism, so pale skin isn’t enough. The relation to Europe’s capitalistic global expansion is key. But what about European countries who didn’t go expanding this way, or whose involvement is harder to pinpoint? After all, most of the trading of enslaved indigenous peoples from Africa and North & South America were carried out by the Portuguese, Genoese, Dutch, French, British, Spanish, and Americans. Well, the rapid enrichment and development of the rest of Europe for centuries to come was specifically made possible by all the labor, resources, and capital brought in by this period of the European slave trade. European ancestry links every white person to privileges and developments born on the backs of black and indigenous enslaved peoples. Furthermore, simply being white makes one safer from these kinds of exploits, and today it also makes one safer from the effects of generations of racial prejudices and resource extraction on the global scene. Which brings me to...

5. Whiteness tends to involve one’s relative freedom. Freedom of movement, both physical and social, without immediate threat of policing. Freedom to explore one’s ancestral history without being blocked by 500 years of forced removal, renaming, forced childbirth, etc. Freedom to exist without having to actually know or respond to one’s racial identity. This one’s really important. Whiteness involves not having to think about being white, usually in relation to living in a country/region whose laws and norms are defined and enforced almost exclusively by other white people. Since whiteness and blackness arose mutually around the European slave trade, blackness is inherently tied to a lack of rights/freedoms and whiteness is inherently tied to an abundance of them. That doesn’t mean that every white person experiences these equally, and there will always be exceptions to the rule. But the exceptions don’t make the rule, and after centuries of globalized white supremacy, whiteness has become a subconscious signifier of power for people all over the place.

The big take-away is this: whiteness is inherently toxic. There is nothing positive to defend in whiteness. It was born out of ugliness and it is ugly to its core. That’s why it feels so bad. It’s why “white pride” is always ugly. However, the solution is not to disconnect from our ancestry. All that does is leave us trapped here, in an ugly set of circumstances, with no concept of who we are except what we’re living in, now. The real work to be done is to connect with our ancestry before whiteness, with the ancestors who related to the land as a living entity, before the land was limited in social memory to a source of private capital, servitude, and empire-building. This land, this Earth, is the backdrop against which all our relativity is measured. From this place of relative security, understanding, and development of the spirit, we can withstand the reality of our more recent ancestors, and finally heal from the last 1000 to 2000 years of trauma.

I know I’ve said this before, but now that I have this huge post, I’ll repeat it: Dr. Daniel Foor’s Ancestral Medicine is a really helpful book and/or course for this whole process. It’s not the end-all be-all resource, but it’s a great start! I’m also always down to talk about this stuff. Hit me up. I need to be able to talk about it, too.

(I should add, while blackness was created by white people and therefore was born out of the racism of whiteness, blackness was forced on people, while whiteness was claimed by the takers. It’s no white person’s place to have an opinion about "black identity.” White people started race, so white people are responsible for deconstructing our own race--no one else’s. We cannot be “post-racial” while everyone else is still living the violent reality of racism.)

#whiteness #race #ancestry

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earthstellar · 3 years

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Transformers Analysis: Folklore and Folk Magic in the Mines of Kaon

thinking about Miner Megatron again, as always. here we goooo

So I've been doing some folk magic, as I usually do, and it got me thinking:

Surely, the lower class/caste bots wouldn’t feel welcomed into the more organised Cybertronian temples etc., or might even be outright banned from joining in shared spiritual spaces or rituals.

So it’s time to teach y’all some working class magic history and how we can apply that to Cybertronian spirituality:

Working Class History: Casting Spells on the Job (Just Call it Prayer so the Boss Doesn't Find Out)

Here's a quick history of rural Appalachian folk magic, for some context:

1) The Christian Bible has been used for spellcasting all up and down the rural East Coast in the USA from day one of colonisation.

In Pennsylvania you have Hexenmeisters and the Pennsylvania Dutch practices, for a well-documented example.

2) The working class has done spellcasting with the Bible from the very first day shitty bosses started

This is for several reasons, but primarily because Bibles were common and cheap, you didn't have to know how to read in order to follow along with or change the lyrics of popular hymns and prayers to fit your own needs, and it was very easy to sneak what is essentially localised witchcraft under the radar when it just looks like you're reading the Bible to everyone else.

Catholic materials were used a lot for this, because they were often provided for free by any local churches, and a lot of working class people in Appalachia were Italian (Roman Catholic) or Eastern European (Eastern Orthodox Catholic), which meant there was no shortage of all sorts of votive candles and the like to utilise for what we would now identify as spellcasting.

It's important to note that it wasn't called spellcasting outright by anybody; Sometimes it was called "hexing" or "sweet talking", among other terms, but if you called it spellcasting it was heavily frowned upon.

A lot of people were uncomfortable (and are still uncomfortable) with verbalising it or identifying it as such due to stigma from the more mainstream religious communities or their own religious backgrounds, and of course, historically if the boss found out that all the workers hated their jobs so much they were doing fucking witchcraft about it, it would not have ended well for the workers.

So, stealth it is. And that's why there are so many specific folk practices in a lot of historically working class rural regions/communities-- Not just in Appalachia, but similar things happen in similar communities around the world.

What does this have to do with Megatron?

Everything we know about the lower classes on Cybertron, the lower caste members, and the mines/industrial regions in Tarn and Kaon suggest that a similar folklore likely existed within these working communities.

And any local folk practices likely developed for the exact same reasons that this type of folk practice developed in the real world:

Workers are fucking miserable, "mainstream" religion isn't satisfying their spiritual/emotional/social/material needs or concerns, and close-knit people in small communities spending most of their time together naturally start to sort of do their own thing based on their collective situation.

People get desperate, there's nowhere to turn and nothing to do, so spirituality becomes a lifeline in that it builds solidarity and creates a more appropriate sort of support system.

For example: If we aren't allowed time off work to mourn our friend who was killed by heavy machinery, and we aren't allowed any time to process that or deal with it or take care of each other, then we will invent a ritual that allows us to grieve on the job.

This was, and still is, a common thing.

Which brings us to...

St. Barbara and the Mines + Solus Prime

St. Barbara's backstory can be summarised, roughly, as such (based on the version of this story that I know; keep in mind the details can vary):

She was kept isolated from others by her father, who became furious that she refused an arranged marriage. When she fled, he chased her; She ran into two people working in a field, the first who helped her, and the second who gave her path away to her father.

She was captured, and brought to a prominent local figure (the title varies based on different versions of this story), who had her tortured for escaping and disobeying her father.

However, when imprisoned, they tried to kill her again and again, and every morning she was healed. Fire intended to be used to burn her would cool the second it got near her skin, and daggers used to cut her would go dull when brought near her.

Snakes thrown into her room intended to bite her would then die the instant they went to approach her, and ropes intended to be used to bind and choke her would spontaneously fray and snap before they could be tied.

Eventually, she was condemned to beheading, and a special sword was used to cut her head off, which finally killed her.

Her father is the one who beheaded her, and as divine punishment, he was hit by lightning-- A single bolt that lasted so long that his entire body went up into flames, and his ashes disappeared.

Her gravesite became a place of veneration, where people prayed for protection and safety.

She became known as the patron saint of all people with dangerous jobs or jobs where the bosses don't care about the worker's wellbeing or safety, for obvious reasons: Nothing but the hands of her own father could ever harm her.

(The imagery of St. Barbara being slain only by a special sword is very reminiscent of Solus Prime being slain only by a special sword...)

Workers, especially those with particularly dangerous or shitty jobs but also just anyone working class in general, can interpret this story in several ways which can make it additionally relatable:

Her father = A controlling and aggressive boss who abuses or neglects their workers to death.

The field workers = A pro-union worker (a helper) and an anti-union worker or scab (a betrayer).

So you can see how St. Barbara became immediately adopted as a common worker's saint, and was used in a lot of regional working class folk magic practices (where such folk magic developed within local working communities).

And this is still going strong as a tradition; Crossrail tunnel borers in London consecrated the drilling site in the name of St. Barbara in 2013:

"Several hundred contractors and senior management attended the St Barbara's Day ceremony at the Thames Tunnel (pictured) which will link Plumstead and North Woolwich when completed. The site was so large, that sound engineers put in place an amplification system for the ceremony." - Article here.

"As a long-standing tradition, one of the first tasks for each new tunnelling projects is to establish a small shrine to Santa Barbara at the tunnel portal or at the underground junction into long tunnel headings. This is often followed with a dedication and an invocation to Santa Barbara for protection of all who work on the project during the construction period." - Article here.

And here's a related example of a worker's prayer for St. Barbara, from here:

So this is very much a tradition that is still going strong, and it isn't just Catholic workers who engage with these types of things!

To accommodate more diverse groups and communities of workers, folk practices (including what eventually becomes folk magic) increasingly develop even further away from any one specific religious origin, in order to become more inclusive for the majority of people who can be from all kinds of different spiritual or cultural backgrounds.

Hence, more folk magic is made-- And I believe something like this could absolutely have evolved in a similar way in working communities on Cybertron.

Cybertronian Spirituality: The Primes, The Knights, The Titans

My personal theory/headcanon, and there is not much in canon to support this particularly so please keep that in mind, is that given the average type of manual labour working environment in Tarn and Kaon (dangerous, dark, and deep), it would make sense for the legendary Titans to become worked into some kind of folk practice.

We have this concept of the Titans as these giant and very particular beings, which reminds me somewhat of the Jewish Golem of Prague, in that the Titans are made from raw materials in some kind of mystical or cosmically spiritual manner, then eventually ally themselves to at least one respective Prime who then acts as a director of their actions to achieve victory over cosmic evil(s).

The Titans then go forward and act as guardians of Cybertronian life by combating the origins of these cosmic evil(s) as protectors of their respective polities and regions and eventually colony worlds, called into action by what is essentially a metaphysical and possibly outright spiritual pull of the need of their Prime(s) and later on the needs of the Cybertronian and colony world populations in times of threat or desperation.

These details are peppered throughout canon and vary based on media/franchise, but most recently Titan lore was covered again in IDW’s Optimus Prime series, issue 10, literally titled Origin Myths.

What is interesting is that while the Golem association could be reasonably made, you could also reasonably say that the Three Original Titans (Metroplex, Chela, and Metrotitan) could be associated just as easily with the Catholic concept of the Holy Trinity.

Lots of different interpretations could be applied to this stuff!

Class Stratification Within Cybertronian Religious Institutions

No matter how you may interpret it, we know that the Titans have a similar mystical presence in Cybertronian history and cultural lore to that of the Primes and Knights, and it would make sense for those spurned and disparaged by "mainstream" spiritual practices (which were likely just as stratified by class and caste as everything else was on Cybertron during Megatron's youth) to go ahead and create a folk practice based more around Titans.

This is because the Primes would like be associated directly with their oppressive rulers and upper classes, and the Knights, who are said to be the first Cybertronians to come from the Well, thusly represent a very high class onto their own which may have repelled working class bots who were very likely sick of essentially worshipping those venerated in their class stratified society solely due to the conditions of their creation; The Knights were "born with silver spoons", essentially, and it's hard to sell that to people who suffered due to the conditions of their own creation.

Therefore, the Titans are the other most likely Cybertronian figures of historical lore that could reasonably be adapted into a sort of folk religion for the working classes and lower social caste bots.

The imagery is strong, and relatable: In Megatron's case, the manual labourers and miners all have large frames compared to the average Cybertronian, they all toil invisibly and in relative silence, and they are kept away from the end products of their labour and yet without them, Cybertron planet wide would instantly struggle to sustain their raw material demands.

They are critical workers, yet many of them have no names/designations; It is noted at least once in canon that some Titans are so old or so little known that their designations are not recorded. Yet without these unseen/unknown Titans, it could be the case that cosmic evil could have achieved victory.

While the Titans are critical, they are largely a mystery and unknown in any real detail. They do not normally engage with average Cybertronians, and when they do, it is usually indirectly-- Even though their actions actively impact the lives of nearly everyone.

And though the Primes and Knights are generally never physically present, at least not within living memory, there is real and physical proof of Titans. I feel like that aspect alone may well appeal more to people who are very physically oriented; We also see a stark realist mentality from many of the lower class/caste bots, who are sometimes realistic to the point of nihilism (which is part of why Megatron's writings were so revolutionary, in that they re-introduced hope to people who had previously concluded that there was no realistic possibility of ever rising up).

The Titans being a known, tangible physical reality may well have endeared them as a more interesting folkloric or spiritual focus to this particular cohort of bots.

Just like with St. Barbara in real life, you can see how the Titans may have been interpreted in certain ways by the lower class/caste working bots which may have made them more appealing or more easy to structure into a framework of sorts for their own practices within their local cultures.

A Little Meta: There's a Lot of Various Religious Imagery in Transformers

Like with all media, especially Western media, inevitably some Jesus sneaks in there.

Which usually sucks, because it can be alienating for literally anyone who isn't familiar with Christianity in some way (as some references or parallels are inevitably not going to be as obvious or even detectable at all to people who didn't grow up with all this sometimes very specific shit, resulting in missed thematic elements and so on due to no fault of the viewers but rather the tendency for Western shows to overwhelmingly be written and designed by primarily Western white middle aged cis straight men who tend to throw some Jesus in there when there should not necessarily be any Jesus in there, but I could yell about this all night).

Transformers as a franchise altogether is not immune to this; As with all media, it is made by people, and people are influenced by their social/cultural upbringing, and that includes religious influences.

We could read some of this into the TFP/Aligned Continuity, in regards to the idea of the Thirteen Primes and how that concept is interpreted in TFP.

Transformers Prime: Alpha Trion is Essentially Paul the Apostle

The TFP Primes resemble both the Apostles as well as various Saints, and especially the Fourteen Holy Helpers; These fourteen Saints in particular are elevated above the others in many cases and contexts-- Similar to how the Primes are held up as elevated over other Cybertronians and other figures in Cybertronian history and presumably within certain Cybertronian spiritual practices as well.

For example, Alpha Trion is strongly reminiscent of the Christian figure Paul the Apostle, who was a writer/scribe known for documenting early Christian concerns of faith in his letters, which became extremely important to theological historians in regards to determining early Christian discourse and attempting to create a timeline of early Christianity.

His letters are included the New Testament in thirteen (!) sections called epistles, which are archived forever in various iterations within the Christian Bible.

Now, let’s take a look at the symbolism, using the TFP main illustration of Alpha Trion as featured in the Covenant, and a popular Icon image of Paul the Apostle:

Beard, cloak, book-- Even the pose they are in here is very similar, look at the feet and the way they are both standing. Even the halo of Cybertronian glyphs around Alpha Trion’s head resembles the gold filament of Paul’s halo.

And much like Alpha Trion's questionable ability to write/re-write history and determine events through some kind of cosmically divine power of foresight, the timeline of Paul's letters will likely never be fully verifiable, and of course, there are so many translations and interpretations of these letters along with the rest of the New Testament that while key points remain fairly consistent, there is still no "true" version or exact outline of events or discussions as recorded by Paul-- Primarily because in at least a few cases, Paul's letters are the only allusion to certain events or conversations.

This is extremely similar to how Alpha Trion states outright in the Covenant that he himself doesn't know if what he writes is actually factual anymore, or if he has changed things so many times to try to construct a more favourable narrative of actions and events that reality itself may have been warped by his Quill, either forwards or backwards in time...

You could also argue that Alpha Trion is presented as a God-like figure in TFP (especially when he appears to Optimus in the form of an echoing voice and shimmering spectral figure in a vision caused by what is essentially the equivalent of a holy relic), and Orion Pax would then be comparable to Jesus pre-Crucifixion, with his reformatting into Optimus Prime post-Matrix heavily resembling Jesus in the eyes of his followers post-Resurrection.

The main cast of Autobots in this comparison would then roughly correspond to the Apostles, of whom there were twelve, with Optimus then making Thirteen... And of course, canonically, Optimus is the resurrection of the Thirteenth Prime.

You can also see visual similarities in the depiction of Thirteen in the Covenant; It reminds me heavily of the Divine Mercy image of Jesus:

Both have their right hands raised, their chests emitting a holy/cosmic light.

I'm just saying, it is totally possible to make connections between fictional lore/spiritual figures and real world ones, and TF is loaded with content that can be re-contextualised in this way.

(I also want to point out at this time that it is not my intention to offend anyone with any of this analysis; I am writing from the point of view of someone who grew up with folk spirituality, and I am also a Quaker Attender, just so you are aware of my own personal background. I would love to hear any other interpretations of any spiritual imagery in Transformers media, because there’s a ton of possible ways to read into this stuff!)

In Conclusion: Cast a Hex on Your Boss by Calling Upon the Titans

Just for fun, as someone who has actually done folk magic for my entire life, I've adapted a hex against bad bosses to fit this headcanon. I think this is something that lower class/caste bots would absolutely engage in; It's common in real life as well.

The original I'm basing this off of was actually something I found in one of our old family Bibles before I moved out, and was written in Girard, Pennsylvania sometime between 1920-1930. I believe it was written by a relative of mine who worked either on the farm or on the railways.

Remember that folk magic like this is for and by working class people, so there are no fancy supplies needed; Don't ever buy shit to do magic, you can do it with anything laying around you. No need to spend money.

If you have a shitty boss, please let me know if you hex your boss with this. I always encourage witchcraft, fictional or otherwise.

Here's what you do, if you want to actually try this:

1) Using any old paper that you have lying around, cut it roughly into a square (doesn't need to be perfect.) It doesn't matter what type of paper it is.

2) Grab any pen you like, it can be any type of pen, any type of ink.

3) Draw a square outline on the paper, making a border on the page. This can be big or small as you like, and you can decorate it if you want; Just leave enough space to write inside the square.

4) Fold this paper into a square, any way you'd like as long as it's a square, and take this paper while it's still blank to work in your pocket.

Carry the paper with you for at least one full day at work. If you can, place it in a chest pocket or a pocket where the paper will be fairly close to your body.

It doesn't matter if the paper gets dirty or smudged or torn; In fact, that's even better.

(Some people who do variations of this spell in real life even use the paper to wipe dirt off their hands etc. throughout the day, to really get the energy of a work day settled into the paper. As long as it can still be written on, you can do this if you'd like.)

5) At the end of the work day, take the paper out, and write the following:

Where I have put [X], the word "Lord" was in the original version of this hex which was in my family Bible, but to contextualise it within the fictional headcanon lore here, you can replace this with the word "Titan". (Or you can replace it with anything else that may be appropriate as well, if you would like to actually use this hex!)

"Give us pay for our work, or the poor will plea to the [X] against you, and you will be struck down, cast down.

If you do not give to those who give to you, you will be cursed coming in, and going out.

Just as the [X] can raise you up and lead you to prosper, so too can the [X] turn away from you, and you will be left to have your walls destroyed, your fortress ruined.

Us servants will rejoice, but you will cry out in anguish, you will be put to shame.

Without the toilers, the land is made desolate, the haunt of jackals.

[X], turn your gaze to us, we labourers of all kinds, see our tears and our sweat.

Lay curses upon those who use their hands to hold us down; Kept below water, our tears lost in the flood.

Raise the waters, and surge the shores of their ill-owned kingdom; Bring forth to their memory that the [X] stewards the land, and that all among the land are equal in spirit.

The [X] will cast fury upon the unrighteous and conniving, cast rage and stand among us mightily, each motion casting winds against the oppressor who weakens like fractured stone under the onslaught of rain.

The [X] will make a storm from our anguish, which brings us higher, raises us from desolation. Our tears, become the rain that withers the false tower looming high above us.

Our hands will raise from our tools and duties, and offer high praise to the [X], who guards the disparaged and lowly, who enacts justice against those who have done wrong against us.

Let us be brought high, and those who revel in our struggle, may they be cast down."

6) You may flip the paper over once the ink is dry, and on the back, put three Xs in the upper corners of the paper. You may also add three more XXXs to the centre of the paper, where the crease in the paper is from folding it.

7) Re-fold the paper, and put it in the bottom of your right shoe. If this is too uncomfortable, carry it in any pocket on your right side.

You can also place it in your wallet for safe keeping, as your wallet contains money and possibly a work ID or something similar, which are all tied to work and working.

And there you have it! Fuck shitty bosses, both fictional ones and real ones. Join a union, do some witchcraft.

This post was long as always, but I hope it's interesting to someone out there! <3 Thank you to anyone who actually reads through all of this! <3

#megatron #transformers #tfp #transformers prime #alpha trion #transformers meta #transformers analysis #long post #idw transformers #idw 1 #miner megatron #young megatron #maccadam #tw religion #working class history #witchcraft #spellcasting #hexing #solus prime

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oskarwing · 3 years

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I really wanna talk about the parent child relationships in Midnight Mass

I’m not sure if I’m good at writing this sorta Meta but here goes nothing. Very many spoilers follow.

Let’s start with the adults:

First we have Erin who suffered so much at the hands of her mother and later because of her mother’s abuse. We don’t get much detailed info on Peggy Greene but from what we can gather she was a lot like Beverly Keane, who seemed to idolize her (though that probably got easier for her after Peggy was gone), in her self-righteous over-pious manner. She just happened to be Beverly with an alcohol problem and a daughter who she could take all her anger at life for not working out her way for God loving her just the same as everybody else out. The dove scene is really such a good scene. But Erin was stronger than her mother, stronger than the abuse that was about to repeat itself and when she found out that she would have a child of her own she left and tried her best to give her kid a better life than the one she had. And she found the strength I think with the help of the same God her mother most likely used as legitimation for her abuse (don’t get me wrong I believe it was Erin’s own strength but she also clearly found something in religion that helped her gather it) and it helped her to carve out a path for herself and her unborn child.

Sarah’s relationship to her parents is such an interesting one because we get to see the end of it. The man who she believed to be her father has been dead for a long while and her mother is suffering through the late stages of dementia. And Sarah showed up for it. As a doctor she most likely knew what would be happening as soon as Mildred started to show the first symptombs but she wasn’t going to leave her mother. That kind of care for an elderly parent shows something that is proven in Mildred’s character time and time again: She is a very devoted parent and the love between mother and daughter flows both ways in every scene they are in together, after the birth of her daughter her world turned around Sarah and she loved her with all she had. There are a few scenes that show that Mildred’s understanding of the duty she felt towards her family came from the old values of her time. She wouldn’t have taken off with John and their child not for a lack of love but because in those times, in catholism still at least where I’m from, you can’t just marry a priest. You can’t just have a child with a priest eventhough you’re married and then fuck off with him. As a woman, as a wife and mother you have to stand with your husband, stand with your child and you have to stop running after fantasies I’m sure Mildred had. I’m saying this all from her perspective btw, I don’t necessarily think running away with John, in the way he wished to, would have been good for Sarah but honesty might have been and her old fashioned values were also what kept her from being truly honest with her daughter. To John on the other hand Sarah is a fantasy, a dream he couldn’t reach. His daughter, his baby, so close and yet so far away getting to watch her grow into an adult but never being able to really be her father as in her Dad instead of her priest. And it’s painful to him, he clearly loved Mildred, loved Sarah but he was also kinda selfish in his love that in the end took Sarah away. At first he isolated his child by starring at her giving her the creeps and the feeling that she had done something wrong that he knew she was gay and dissaproved and then he took it upon himself to ‘cure’ Mildred in the same way he was. Sarah wanted to take care of her mother wanted to be there for her in those final months and John decided it was up to him to give Mildred a youth potion to make it so she’d never die. And with that he took away from Sarah what is without doubt a hard but for many people a very important last part of the relationship between child and parent. John was a complicated man and would maybe have been a great Dad he certainly showed a lot of fatherly love for his altar boys but he couldn’t have the family in the way he fantasized about and in the end it was that fantasy that made him act the way he did.

Riley Flynn causes his parents a lot of pain. Him killing that girl in the beginning, his alcoholism, him simply not liking the place, the home they build for themselves through hard work causes the Annie and Ed so much pain and financial loss and you can see how tired they are, how much guilt they feel for failing their son. Ed calls out his own guilt and says that he doesn’t belive it could be Annie’s fault because ‘your mother’s a saint’ but what I truly love about Annie and Ed Flynn is that they both aren’t saints. As a mother Annie is very much overprotective and suffocating, wanting to keep her children on crocket island and hating the notion that they might leave her, even though she is kind and sweet and loving. And while Ed seems rather checked out as a father but he is the more honest parent, never talking down to Riley and telling him as it is, telling him about the pain he caused him while also admitting to the guilt he feels. The Flynns are flawed people even in their religious practice (I think the way Annie speaks about Ali showing up at church when Hassan seemed to be nothing but nice to her spoke very loudly to the fact that Annie is rather misguided sometimes) but they are good people at the core of it and their parenting might have been part of Riley’s way into alcoholism but it wasn’t only them. There were things they couldn’t change and things they had no influence over like his heart being broken by Erin running away, the sort of people he went out on parties with and so many other things... Yes, they may have shaped their son in a way that made him vulnerable to addiction and the party scene of the stock and tech market and brought him to the point where he killed a child but it doesn’t happen through parenting alone and they also shaped him in the good ways. Him not losing himself when Pruitt changes him, him being brave enough to warn Erin, him standing up for what he believes in those things were also shaped by Ed and Annie. They are one of the best example of flawed but good hearted Christians I have seen in recent media and their portrayal was one of the most heartbreaking ones.

Now the kids:

Let’s start with Leeza. Little Leeza Scarborough who before it comes to her wonder gets treated with pity and overprotectiveness from her parents and the island community at large. Leeza was injured by Joe Collie transforming him into the island’s villain and her into the ever present victim. What happened to her is without a doubt horrible and I understand why Wade and Dolly started to become these overprotective parents, why they were so easily sucked in to John’s and Bev’s scheme. Their little girl was almost taken from them eventhough Wade is the mayor, one of the most powerful people on the island he had no influence over what happened to Leeza even was the one who took her out that day and what followed the accident was as we can gather from their conversation with Sarah a lot of pain and financial burden though they say they would have done it all over for Leeza. In fact a lot of places in crockett island are wheelchair accesible and I am sure that Wade as mayor made it so (I can’t really imagine that a small place like the island was very inclusive though I may be wrong). After Leeza is healed they don’t want to question in don’t want to think about what might have been the cause for it. In fact they stop questioning anything after that point, after Leeza walks again they are completely vulnerable to Bev’s manipulation and them letting that happen, them just going along with everything, Wade protecting John after he kills Joe long after Leeza forgave him and with her forgiveness send Joe on a better path is what in the end makes them lose her. Because Leeza isn’t that little victim who needs pity and help, she is a strong minded, strong willed young woman with a lot of wit who similar to Erin finds strength in her faith but in a way that isn’t devotion without question and when the Easter vigil is held she doesn’t follow her parents eventhough she loves them deeply. She forgives them I think, because that’s what Leeza’s character is about in it’s core but her parents were two of the instigators behind what happened on the island, without Wade’s protection John and Bev couldn’t have come as far as they did and they put their trust in them because they loved their daughter so much they didn’t stop to question if maybe what made Leeza walk again was also a bad thing.

Ali and Hassan don’t have it easy and I as a white person really can’t speak much on the racism and religious discrimination they face. I can say this I think: The first line spoken about Ali before we even really get to look at him is “You didn’t invite Aladin” and already sets us up for what both of them know: They are the outsiders. Not only because they just moved to the island but also because in their faith they are different from their peers and religion can often be a community building event for people before it is anything else. Ali starts balming his father a little for that, for not trying to fit in more with the community, for moving after his mother’s death and then not trying to be closer to the people around them and for the pain all the pain the two of them went through before Crockett island. It isn’t oly peer pressure though of course that brings Ali to St Patrick’s. Sure, Ali wanted to be part of the community but also desperately wanted to believe that there was a devine power who could if he just did it (it meaning faith) the right way he might find a way to avoid the pain of his parents. Hassan knew that and he warned him that that wasn’t how it worked. Hassan was a protective Dad and maybe he overdid it from time to time but his worries were never without reason, his need to keep his son safe from a world that hated him for a crime that happened when he wasn’t even born yet never unfounded and him wanting to make sure his kid kept the memory of his mother alive never anything but the wish of a griefing man and loving father. In the end when they pray together there is peace in them. They face their ends with the dignity Ali’s mother would have wished for and they face it as father and son. While Beverly the true religious terrorist of the story burns away without it.

Warren is the youngest Flynn and it is never directly stated yet omnipresent that his coming of age happens in the shadow of his older brother’s mistake. Annie warns him away from drinking when he goes out he in fact doesn’t drink. He never drinks because of what his brother did. Warren would have been 12 when Riley killed that girl and so he would have seen and felt what his brother’s actions did to his parents fully without being yet old enough to maybe see the nuance. Annie and Ed probably try to right the wrong they believe to have done in parenting Riley with Warren and that’s a lot for a kid. I do think it’s pretty usual that parents of multiple children especially when there’s a larger age gap try to do better with the younger children, but that isn’t fair is it? Warren is his own person not a second chance to do it over. And yet seemingly he does what is asked of him. He’s alter boy, he’s charming and helpful and sweet, he doesn’t drink (even when he does smoke pot) and he helps his father where he can with his work. But in the end he feels guilty because he thinks he wasn’t enough and says at that last dinner he would have been different if he had known he wouldn’t see his family again. But Leeza is right they know and they love him and Warren deserved to not be perfect all the time.

Littlefoot saved Erin and Erin payed her back with all the love she had. She was never born but she gave her mother the strength and willpower to leave. In her speech to Joe Leeza said he reached through time and took things from her she didn’t even know she had yet.When Erin left her husband she reached through time and saved Littlefoot from a childhood like hers and when John gave Erin the angel’s vampire’s blood he reached through time and took away her child, a child who would have been loved and cared for. A child with an amazing mother and probably a great step-dad. Littlefoot’s story is tragic because she never got one.

#midnight mass #midnight mass spoilers #parents in midnight mass #I dunno man I just really love how they showed all these examples of parents

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because-edmund · 2 years

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Dancing closer to the edge

Part 5?? I think of whiskey and wine 😅💕

As always, raw and ready for human consumption for @agirlinherhead and @the-redheaded-league

Hassan enters his home, prepared to not even see Ali yet, figures he’s still out with his friends. Instead, he finds Ali at the kitchen table, a raised brow on his face as he looks up from some dusty book.

“Have a fun night?” Ali asks with a smirk.

“We should probably talk about that, huh?” Hassan laughs.

“I like her, I think she’s good for you.”

Hassan’s heart swells, a mixture of love and pride. “Thanks, young man,” he says as he ruffles the kids hair. He finally notices the book he’s reading. Hassans brow furrows. “Is that… a Bible?”

“Yeah…. Uh, Ms. Keene was handing them out, you know after the whole miracle-“

Hassan cuts him off, “Misdiagnosis.”

“It was a miracle dad! It had to be, Father Paul is doing such amazing things! And I just wanted, I just wanted to see what it’s all about there-“

“You’re not Christian!” Hassan snaps.

“I didn’t exactly want to be Muslim! You’re not giving me a choice to learn and to decide for my own who God is!” Ali is yelling now too, he stands up from where he’s sitting. Hassan can see how passionate he is, but he still can’t let him down this road.

“Look, I get it. It seems like impossible things are happening, but there’s logic to it. Leeza either healed, or was misdiagnosed. Simple as that, it has nothing to do with God choosing to heal her…”

“Why not? You don’t know that,” Ali states this like a fact, maybe it is.

“Because why would he save Leeza and not some kid with brain cancer on the mainland? Leeza was fine, enjoying her life, why would their god pick and choose who gets to heal? What about your mother… Didn’t she deserve to- to live?” his voice falters at the end. He’s getting choked up again, and really doesn’t want to cry in front of his kid today. “You can’t be Christian, your mother wouldn’t allow it, so I won’t either.”

“Mom is the only reason you became a Muslim! She’s not even alive anymore! Why should I keep doing something that wasn’t my choice in the beginning? In fact, none of this was my choice! Why would I wanna live on some dumb island? Being made fun of at school, the weird kid who believes in Allah and not a real god!”

“Because your mother truly believes this faith and so do I! She died faithful doesn’t say something to you? Mean something? And you’re much safer here than anywhere else on this world, I can tell you that…” Hassan can’t help but yell at his son now, anger blooming in his chest like wildflowers after rain.

Ali is still for a moment, “Why do you even keep bringing her up? It’s clear you’re not in love with her anymore, you got to move on, why can’t I?”

Hassan flinches at the words, a flash of regret hits Ali’s face, before he can apologize Hassan cuts him off, “Go to your room.”

“Dad-“

“We can discuss you visiting that church in the morning, but you’re going to your room right this instant.” Hassan snaps, a few tears have fallen down his cheeks, resting in his beard. “Remember to kiss your mother,” he calls out as the door slams.

Hassan does what he knows is a bad idea, a bad example to his son, and he grabs his coat, heads back to Daphnes. He storms over there faster than his mind can keep up. Trying to remember their date, and not the argument that just happened.

He knocks on her door, waits a moment as he hears her rustling around, she opens the door in her robe. “Hassan?” She asks, “It’s 11 now, you should be sleeping-“

He cuts her off with a harsh kiss, forceful, rough, his hands are gripping her face like she might disappear. He can faintly feel the cold metal of his wedding ring digging into his finger. It all hurts too much.

“Do you have keys to the store?” He asks, panting breath leaving steam clouds in the air.

“Of course I do, why do you ask?” She breathes out, concern not leaving her features.

“I need to do something stupid.”

And so the two ran off, in the middle of the night, after the first date and his fight, to the general store. Daphne opened the doors, making sure to lock it behind them, Hassan really didn’t want to get caught with what he was going to do. Before doing anything, he flicks a few lights on, and walks to the register, he grabs his wallet and sets it there. “Make sure I pay after, ok?” He asks.

“Hassan, what is going on?” Daphne feels dread in her stomach at how her new boyfriend is acting.

“I need to drink, like a lot. I also have some pot in my top drawer on the desk. Confiscated it from that Ooker kid. We can do that too,” Hassan starts walking down the shelves, grabbing random bottles.

Daphne wants to argue, wants to ask him why, she knows he doesn’t drink, but whatever is bothering him is clearly bad, and she can respect he needs to relax. So, instead of speaking, she grabs the weed out of his desk.

They sit together, on the jail cell cot, Hassan gulping his beer like a man dying of thirst, Daphne takes a couple swigs of whiskey before the switch beverages.

Only when they feel warm, a little calmed down, does Hassan speak about what happened.

“He wants to be Christian,” Hassan mumbles, staring at the ceiling. Alcohol hitting him faster than he wanted it too.

“Because of-“

“Yeah,” he cuts her off, they both know. He takes another swig of the burning liquid.

“Grace mentioned Bev Keene was handing out bibles…” Daphne rests her head on Hassan’s shoulder, he kisses the top of her head.

“Fucking bitch. If I handed out the Quran I’d get murdered here.”

“I know, it’s not fair,” she laces her hand through his, content to just support him for the night.

“He- he, um, said some things…” Hassan can feel the tears in his eyes welling again.

“About me?”

“Not really, more of his mother… I worry, am I moving on too fast?” He can feel her fiddling with his wedding ring. Her soft dainty hands touch him so gently.

“That’s only something you know, not even Ali,” she mumbles back, eyes still fixed on the silver.

“I still love her, he said because- because I’m dating you, that I don’t anymore, but I still do, I know I should only love you but-“

She cuts him off, “I never expected you to stop. She was your wife, she was Ali’s mom, still is. I just wanted to wait to ask more about her, I wanted to learn to love her too…” she trails off.

He can’t help but cry now, his wife would’ve loved her.

His wife would’ve loved her. he thinks again.

He breaks into a full sob now. Daphne lays his head down in her lap. He fists his hands on the fabric of her nightgown. She just runs her nails through his hair, other hand resting on his back. She doesn’t say anything, but every once and while he feels one of her own tears drip onto him.

When he finally calms himself down, he drinks more of the bottle, so does Daphne. He watches then as she fiddles with the bag of weed, “I think since you’re already drinking you might as well go all in,” she laughs at him.

He silently thanks Ooker for already having some of it in joints for them. They light one in silence, Hassan taking a hearty breath full of the substance. He can already feel it calming him down more. Head a bit dizzy as he lays Daphne down on his chest now.

They go back and forth, smoking and drinking in comfortable silence. Sometimes Hassan would start crying again, despite himself. Daphne, bless her, would just kiss him, or stroke his beard.

He lets out a shaky breath as he exhales another plume of smoke, “I love you…” he mumbles.

It’s entirely too soon, but he can’t stop it.

“You’re just cross faded,” she chuckles back.

“I thought it outside your house earlier, when I left the first time. God, what a shitty first date this turned out to be…” Hassan laughs bitterly. He wonders if she’ll stop dating him after this.

“I enjoyed it, all of it. Even this part, I feel warm and dazed.” She smiles up at him.

“I really do love you, shortcake.” His voice is raspy, and he’s in awe with how beautiful she looks like this, pressed up against him.

“I love you too, sheriff,” she mumbles in to his chest.

Before he can say anything, she perks up, “We can egg Bev’s house!” She nearly jumps up at the thought.

“I think I should be against that,” he laughs.

“Why?” She groans, she pouts her lips like a child. He could kiss them raw in that moment.

“Conflict of interests, it’s a bit against the law and all,” he leans into her, actually does kiss her, more gently than he wants to.

“Not fair,” she’s still pouting. “We could graffiti sayings from the Quran on her door.”

“That’s worse, I’m pretty sure.”

“Make a good second date, though.”

“You sure you still want to do this? I haven’t scared you off,” he moves his hands to stroke her cheeks.

“I’m not easily frightened,” she moves one of her hands to rest in his beard.

He chuckles, “I want to get fucking drunk, I think we need to up our drinking game.”

So they did, drank like college frat boys, Daphne playing loud rock on her phone. The two had decided to dance in the middle of the store, Hassan had throughly decided he didn’t care if anyone saw them.

“I feel like Uma Thurman!” Daphne laughs as he spins her around, some of her vodka spilling out on the floor. “Fuck! I’m going to have so much to clean up tomorrow!”

“I’ll help,” Hassan let’s put a hearty laugh, as he watches her chug more.

“Your turn,” she tips her bottle in his direction.

He spills some of his whiskey on the floor.

“Not to spill it! Drink, dummy!” She’s laughing so hard she snorts. He wants that sound on replay in his head until he dies.

He chugs more of it, trying not to tip over, he’s a bit too tall and old to be falling in this old store. He looks up at her, hands on her hips, nightgown a bit too thin, he realizes for the first time he can see her nipples through the fabric. He licks his lips.

“I can’t wait to fuck you…” he mumbles.

She walks over to him, a devious smirk on her face. “How you gonna do it, big guy?”

“I want to suck on those tits first, then go lower and lower and-“ he gets cut off by seeing something move in the window. “What the fuck…” he breaths as he walks closer, Daphne left confused and in place, she ties her robe tightly around herself.

“You see anything?” She calls to him.

He leans into the window, he sees something move, something big with a wing. He catches a glimpse of bright yellow eyes and jerks back in fear, ready to cover Daphne.

“What was it?” She asks in a hushed tone, gripping onto the back of his jacket. Hassan looks at the window again, seeing nothing now.

“Must’ve been a bird or something…” he’s not convinced, but he doesn’t want to ruin their buzz either.

They sit back down by the register, drinking again, but only for a moment before someone knocks on the door.

“Shit.” Hassan breathes.

“Should I answer the door?” Daphne asks, trying to stand up, she wobbles and falls right back down, the two burst into laughter. Forgetting about their visitor, Hassan, dreamy in his head, simply kisses her cheeks in fast bursts.

He presses her into the wooden floor, they’re both still laughing as he uses one hand to hold her wrists above her head and the other to tickle her sides, he’s still madly kissing her, the knocks are getting a bit frantic, he doesn’t care.

The door ends up opening, they don’t hear it, still lost in their private reverie.

“Um, sheriff? Father Paul asks, seeing Hassan carded between daphnes legs, hands pressed to her face. The two look up, Daphne blushing and Hassan glowering.

“Why are you here?” He asks, unable to hide his annoyance.

Grace pops up behind him, “Daph, what are you doing?” She’s chuckling, grinning.

“It smells in here,” Paul mumbles, looking around at the half eaten snack and spilled alcohol. “Sheriff, did you drink?”

“What are you gonna do, report me?” Hassan pulls Daphne up to sit in between his lap. In an act of pure possessiveness, he trails his hands down her body, lightly touching her legs, breast, stomach. Daphne is beet red, keeps trying to say something but can’t. Hassan eyes never leave the priests, whose looking just about the same as his girl.

“I-I,” his eyes finally avert from the obscene display. “Ms. Keene called me, said some people were in the store after hours, I brought Grace because- because…” he looks like he’s trying to figure out something to say, an excuse maybe.

“She said one was a girl, he didn’t want to be alone with a woman,” Grace chimes in, with a wink to Daphne. It’s a flimsy lie, collapses in on itself of you think about it too long, but Hassan’s brain isn’t thinking much. All the blood in his brain is actually much lower, and he’s sure Daphne can feel it.

He finally softens his look, looks down at his shortcake, she’s blushing still, eyes blown wide as she looks back up at him. For a moment he’s worried if he overstepped his boundaries with her, take it fucking slow he tries to tell himself. Suddenly, he feels her hand grope him through the fabric, hidden behind her fluffy robe.

“Thank you guys for checking in,” she finally responds. “Grace, I’m a bit drunk, and high, I’m not going to lie, will you walk me home? I think Hassan and Paul will be fine,” she smiles as grace helps her up. They wave bye at the boys, Paul lingering on the two.

“I-I’m not, um, going to report you, I wouldn’t even-even know how…” Paul is fiddling with his rosary.

Hassan stands up, tries to hide his crotch a bit by taking off his coat and holding it lower. “I know I don’t look like a great law abiding citizen at the moment,” he begins.

“Do you have more?” Paul asks.

“More what?” Hassan lifts a brow, head snapping up.

“Um, pot? I think that’s what it’s called.” Paul still won’t look at his eyes.

“Why?”

“I would like to try some,” he mumbles.

The hell? The good little catholic priest boy wants to get high? Surely this must be the substances he’s taken, still he takes the bag out of his pocket and tosses it at the priest, who grins.

“Thanks,” he tries to walk off.

“Do you want my shortcake?” Hassan asks, a bit aggressively.

“Short-shortcake?” Paul asks, genuinely confused.

“Daphne, I mean,” Hassan blushing, forgetting not everyone knew of her nickname.

“Hassan, can I call you that?” Hassan nods. “I am- I am horribly in love with Grace. You kind of, caught us earlier, kissing,” he’s blushing again.

Hassan had forgotten about that. He smacks his hand to his forehead, “Oh my god, that’s right! I’m so sorry, I just- I,” Hassan can’t even justify himself now. Completely embarrassed.

“It’s ok! I-I wish I could… do that. You know?”

“Priests can’t, they can’t have-“ Hassan thinks out loud cut off by Paul.

“They can’t. I really want to, however. I don’t know how,” he mumbles. “I really shouldn’t be with her, she deserves so much better-“

Hassan now cuts him off, handing him a bottle of whiskey. Paul takes a large gulp, grimaces and hands it back. “We deserve to sin today, drink up, get on my level, then I’ll start giving tips,” Hassan takes another swig as the two sit down.

It doesn’t take long for Paul to get drunk, maybe three good swigs of the whiskey. Paul begins telling him things, of how he met Grace, slowly fell in love with her. How he doesn’t think he could live without her, but she deserves someone who could be public with her, the way Hassan had just been with Daphne.

“Have you ever had sex before?” Hassan asks.

“Not really,” Paul mumbles.

Hassan takes that for a no, “Do you want to break those vow things?”

“With her, yes. But I don’t want to leave my god, my life behind. I suppose I’m not sure, yet.”

“Your first instinct was yes, I would go with that. I think you want her, more than just, biblically, you seem to really love her-“

“I do! I do so much it’s frightening!” Paul laughs.

“I feel the same, Ali says I’ve moved on from my wife, don’t love her anymore. I’m afraid of leaving that life behind too, but I guess we both need to just, take a leap of faith…” Hassan closes his eyes, sleep slowly taking him.

“I suppose we do,” Paul responds.

“If my son ever comes to your church you have to tell me. I want him to learn things, but he is not to be baptized, or inducted or-“ Hassan jabs his finger in Paul’s arm with every word for emphasis.

“I won’t, trust me,” he laughs. “I think we should get you home though, it’s almost sunrise and the kid probably knows you’re out.”

“Yeah, he’s too smart, gets it from his mom,” Hassan mumbles, Paul helps him stand and laces his arm abound his shoulders. The two lock up the store with the key Daphne left, Paul saying he’ll give it to Grace.

“I hope you do, go for it, I mean. It’s scary to move on, but I think we have to,” Hassan mumbles.

“I know, I hope so too.”

“And sex is fucking awesome, you’re gonna love it.”

Paul blushes again, “We really need to get you sobered up.”

#i always forget to add the tags #sheriff hassan x oc #sheriff hassan #Daphne #we going wild bby

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moonprisimbankai111 · 2 years

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Things I wish I could tell my younger self

Sharing something rather personal, I NEVER share emotional stuff like this, but I’m sad and found this very healing for my inner child. <3

-Your adult life more specifically your 20s are not going to be what you thought. That’s ok.

-The friends you have now, may not always stick around. A lot of them are gonna let you down. And that’s ok. We loose people sometimes so that better can find us.

-You won’t be married young. And that’s ok.

-So many boys are going to break your heart. But a wonderful and kind man will nourish your heart and rebuild it.

-Don’t get bangs. Don’t get bangs.

-you will love drinking. But unfortunately you’re gonna have a condition that makes you not able to consume liquor. You can still enjoy your adult life without liquor. That’s ok as well.

-your body is not going to look the way it looked at 15-19 and that is also OK!

-Sadly you’re not gonna marry any of the members of all time low. You met them though and that makes it ok.

-you also will not meet or marry any of the boys from 5 seconds of summer. But you saw them not once but twice.

-your first boyfriend will not be your soulmate, you’re going to find him a little later on in your life. And that’s ok.

-some girls just aren’t going to like you. You have some thing special and that scares them.

-a boy will tell you, but a man will show you.

-Don’t go back your ex. Trust me.

-If he takes the side of your enemies, he doesn’t love you. He is not worth fighting for.

-Don’t accommodate your boundaries to his comfort.

-you’re going to be super into astrology! And you’re going to find it it helps you heal from a lot.

-The only men worth dying for is Christian Dior and Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, stay cute sis

-i’m so sorry that when you were just 9 years old you used to wrap your arms around your stomach whenever you sat down at the dinner table.

-i’m also very sorry for all the times you hid in the hallway bathroom and cried because you felt left out by your peers.

-people are always going to talk their shit. You can’t change that. But you can change the impact it has on you.

-when you find out that your first boyfriend cheats on you after the two of you have broken up. Please don’t make a rant about it on social media. Allow time and karma to have its way with both of them.

-A boy cheating has nothing to do with your looks. It has everything to do with him and the fact that he AINT SHIT!

-The occult is super fun, and you will love dabbling in it

-You’ll understand why you LOVED playing with tarot cards and making up your own spreads when you were little.

-Please don’t date the guy who talks down on his family.

-you are going to be revisiting your obsession with sailor moon you had at 7. Not only will it become your entire universe. You will also bleach your hair blonde to pay homage to miss moon baddie herself.

-Sadly no, he won’t end up being the tuxedo mask in your life. But you’re gonna find you do a lot better without him.

-you are the Disney princess that’s in the sad part of her feature film. But instead of prince charming coming to save you, you’re going to save yourself.

-you will have a very unhealthy obsession with bleach- oh no, not the chemical. The anime. Trust me, its amazing. and you’re also going to make some super awesome friends who love it just as much as you do!

-Strength is not bottling away all of your tears. Strength is allowing yourself to express your vulnerability even if it means crying.

-it’s not your responsibility to carry other peoples burdens.

-just like how it’s also not your responsibility to fix broken people.

-But most of all, you’re gonna learn that it’s OK to not have your life completely figured out. You will learn that life is not a race, rather a journey that deserves to be cherished with each step taken.

#innerself #inner child #self healing #lessonslearned #Bleach Anime #sailormoon #ichigo kurosaki #usagi tsukino #childhood #astrology #occult #Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez #christian dior

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shysneeze · 3 years

Text

i’m in love with you (george weasley x fem!reader)

I’m in Love With You

Post War George Weasley x Fem!Reader

Request: Okay idk if you’d be up to it but I’m currently obsessed w the song Please Notice by Christian Leave and so I was thinking a George weasley x reader fic inspired by/based off of/same kinda vibe imagine. Do you understand that lol I feel like I said it in a confusing way, crossing my fingers that you’re pickin up what I’m putting down. Lol ily bye. ~ anon

Warning: angsty (but fluff I promise this time), self-doubt etc...

Authors note: this is a cliché, but it’s one you can pry from my cold dead hands

George has never been a huge fan of silence, it’s not something he’s ever been used to, growing up in a house full of the constant noise of familial ruckus, and so weekends without Fred such as this are something that’s always made him feel ever so slightly uneasy, listening only to the repetitive patter of rain on the windows and static whirring of a record he’s gotten too distracted to flip spinning idly in the corner.

The creak of his bedroom door opening is a welcome sound, followed by the gentle shuffle of light footsteps along the corridor before she appears before him, a much healthier and warmer version of herself, nothing like the teary-eyed (Y/N) (Y/L/N) he pulled from his doorstep and out of the rain only ten minutes previous.

“Hey.” She gives a sheepish wave.

Years as best friends should prepare him for the sight of her in his clothes, borrowed jumpers and stolen socks such a pivotal part of their friendship back in Hogwarts that he shouldn’t be startled by how gorgeous she looks in them, but he always is.

“Hey.” He manages a kind smile. “Any warmer?”

The subtle drop of her gaze to the floor warns him that she’s about to tell him a white-lie and his eyes cling to the way her hands still tremble with the cold. Then, just as he’s predicted, she gives him an unconvincing ‘yep’.

It wasn’t how he was expecting his evening to go, he’d already surrender himself to an evening spent on the couch listening to his favourite songs when there was a knock on his door. The time and weather instantly led him to the assumption of bad news, and for all the outlandish theories and anxious assumptions he concocted on his way to the door, none involved his rain-soaked best friend shivering on his door step.

A sputtered apology was all she managed before he pulled her into his flat in a protective panic, fetching her a towel instantly and setting out a change of clothes with no request of an explanation for her visit, promising himself only to ask once he’s sure she doesn’t have hypothermia.

He’s still not one hundred percent on that part, giving her a knowing look as he crosses the space between them to push a cup of warm tea between her frozen fingers. Her shoulders slump in relief at the heat finding her hands, giving him a sheepish, but grateful smile.

“Now I’m warmer.” She assures honestly. “Thank you, Georgie.”

“Figured that might help.” He smiles gently. “Livingroom?”

She nods, mimicking his steps subconsciously as he follows him to from the kitchen to the sofa in the living room, pulling her knees up to her chest and cradling the mug on top of them as he takes a seat on the opposite end of the worn sofa with his legs stretched out across the cushions

She twiddles with the handle of her mug atop her knees, deep in thought as the room falls into silence. Silence with her is the only type George has ever found comforting, the reminder of afternoons spent in the Gryffindor common room, listening only the sound her flipping pages of her book and the crackling of the fire.

“Fred’s out?”

“A ‘couples weekend away’.” George nods. “Him and Angelina are somewhere up north for the anniversary of the first time they ate ice cream together or something daft like that.”

She chuckles softly, her smile summoning one similar to George’s lips. There is always a certain amount of pride in cheering her up, he’s realised, in bringing a smile to cheeks moments ago stained by tears.

“I’m happy for them though.” She adds softly, a sombre sound to her voice that has him on edge. “They’re a cute couple.”

“Insufferable at times.” George says. “But yes, cute.”

She exhales a quiet sigh, dropping her head tiredly to the cushion beside.

“I got stood up… again.”

He drops his shoulder in a display of sympathy, pushing down the initial aggressive protectiveness that dares him to ask for the name and address of the person stupid enough to ever hurt her. It’s clear from the forlorn look in her eyes that she needs someone to listen to her, not to avenge her.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N).” He says. “Whoever they were, they were an idiot.”

“Thanks, Georgie.” She says softly. “I just really needed a friend tonight so thank you.”

He tries to ignore how the word stings, ‘friend’. It’s a sting he’s been trying to ignore for years, it should be second nature by now, but it still stirs that feeling he hates, the one that makes him feel ungrateful, because being her friend should be enough.

He hates that it never has been.

It was what he assumed was a harmless crush at first, back at Hogwarts, one he was sure he would grow out of, no matter how many times Fred tried to tell him otherwise. Much to his dismay, Fred was right, and every year it got harder and harder to ignore, even after school.

By now, the word ‘crush’ doesn’t seem to cut it, too childish to possibly explain the irresistible torture that is his love for (Y/N) (Y/L/N). He’s not sure there is a word to describe such a feeling, the way it fills his heart with warmth but aches at the same time, an ache he’d happily experience forever just to be near her.

Now he pushes that sting deep down where he can barely notice it in order to deal with the issue at hand, the girl sat across from him with sad eyes and fallen smile.

“You can rant to me.” He assures. “I don’t mind.”

She takes a moment to give in to his offer encouraged by the sincerity in his warm brown eyes from across the sofa and the nudge to her feet from his. Biting her lip nervously and with a deep breath, she begins to explain.

“I’m not saying he was the love of my life or anything.” She disclaims. “It was only our second date, but it still hurt when he just... didn’t show up.”

“I can imagine.”

“I was just sat in that restaurant staring at the door waiting for this guy I knew deep down wasn’t going to show.” She explains. “He could have just called; told me he wasn’t interested, and it would have been less embarrassing.”

“Guys are idiots, Love.” George says. “Take it from a professional.”

She rolls her eyes lightly at the comment, ready to scold his self-deprecation when she seems to lose the momentum as quickly as she found it, instead sinking further back against the arm of the sofa with a huffed out breath.

“Is there something about me that people think doesn’t deserve an explanation?” Her voice wobbles. “Aren’t I worth that much?”

His heart breaks into what he’s sure are thousands of little pieces, his breath catching in his throat at the tears that spring to her eyes. He pulls his legs back and shuffles towards her end of the sofa as she hides her face behind her knees.

Gentle tugging the tea from her fingers, he places it on the coffee table before pushing her knees down, guiding her legs across his lap, squeezing her knee to urge her to look up and meet his eyes. She sniffles softly as she lifts her head, gulping at the softness in his warm brown eyes.

“You are worth so much more.” He explains. “I’m so sorry they made you feel like you weren’t.”

“I guess I just feel… unlovable.” She confesses.

Frustration forces itself out of his lungs in a long sigh, startling her slightly. It almost hurts to listen to her talk about herself, ‘unlovable’, as if he isn’t sat in front of her, undoubtedly in love with her. It’s not the first time he’s wished she would notice, where life would be so much easier if she could just look at him and see instantly how in love with her he is.

If only she could see how he blushes when he makes her laugh, how even in crowded rooms, he has only eyes for her and how, sometimes, despite his best efforts, he can’t help but fumble over his words when she talks to him.

“You’re not.” He shakes his head slowly. “Trust me.”

It’s a miniscule confession, one he doubts she’s going to pick up on until he can see something flicker across her eyes, realisation perhaps. It fades as quickly as it appeared, as though in only a millisecond she considered and dismissed the notion.

However, George has taken the first steps down a dangerous path, there is no going back no matter how fast the beating of his nervous heart.

“You’re the amazing, (Y/N).” He continues. “I hate that other people can’t see that, but I do.”

“George-“

“I’m in love with you, (Y/N).”

“George please…” She exhales shakily, desperately. “Please don’t tell me this if you don’t mean it, if you’re just trying to cheer me up- please, George.”

“I do mean it, (Y/N).” He assures frantically. “Merlin, (Y/N), I love everything about you, the way you sing under your breath when you think no one’s listening, how you mimic the facial expressions of the characters in books without even noticing you’re doing it, how you get the hiccups when you laugh too much- blood hell, (Y/N), you’re laugh is the most gorgeous sound in the world.”

He’s in love with every single one of her quirks and habits; the lucky penny she’s taken to every single one of his quidditch matches, the pressed flowers she uses as bookmarks, and her pockets that are always full of plasters and healing cream… He could get carried away with listing them all, he has to restrain himself from doing so, bringing himself back with a sigh.

“I’m in love with you, (Y/N).” He repeats in confirmation. “And I can’t stand to hear you doubt yourself over and over because of some idiots who don’t know how lucky they are to even be considered by you.”

The tears that trickle down her cheeks fill him instantly with panic, sure he’s ruined it all as she wipes frantically at her eyes. The room fills with silence again, though George can only hear the thumping of his own heart in his ears, drowning out the rain and the record still spinning pointlessly in the corner of the room.

He’s done exactly what he was afraid of; he’s let his feeling pull apart the friendship that should have been enough for him. This hurts more than the ache of loving her ever has, the wretched torture of rejection.

“I shouldn’t-“ He mumbles. “I shouldn’t have done that-“

“Do you know how often I have imagined you saying those words to me?”

Her voice is cracked, much how it was when he first opened the door to her this evening, with disbelieving edge to her voice. The pain in his chest untwists itself slowly, replaying the words over and over in his head, until he’s sure he’s imagined it.

“What?”

“I love you, George.” She confesses. “Every disastrous date I’ve ever been on has been in an attempt to pretend I don’t. but I do, I really do.”

“You love me?”

The words feel foreign in his mind, he’s never allowed himself to imagine it before, that she could ever possibly love him back. Yet here she is, sat on his couch and wearing his clothes, tell him that she does.

“Yes, George.” She gasps incredulously. “I do, and only in my daydreams have you ever loved me back.”

Warmth fills him slowly, then rushes in all at once as the words finally sink in and he’s able to convince himself he isn’t stuck in some daydream of his own. His grin spreads slowly up his cheeks, contagious as it is soon mimicked on her own teary cheeks.

“You love me.”

“Yes.” She lets out a breathy laugh.

“Bloody hell.”

Her head tips back in a hysterical burst of laughter.

“You can’t just say ‘Bloody hell’ after I’ve confessed my undying love!”

“You cried when I confessed mine!” He retorts, chest vibrating with a laugh of his own. “This is surreal.”

Laughter fading to a grin, she looks at him with a new found light, a twinkle he’s very quickly added to the never ending list of thing he loves about her.

“I can’t believe you love me.” She says softly.

He does something he’s only ever dreamt of before, reaching out with one hand and cupping her cheek, grazing his thumb gently over the map of stains from what he knows now, were happy tears. He can feel her skin warm beneath his touch and tries his best not to smirk, not wanting to ruin the moment.

“This can’t be real.” He whispers.

“I know.” She smiles softly in agreement. “It’s all too perfect.”

“Is it immoral for me to kiss you after you’ve just been stood up?”

She snorts quietly at the question, shaking her head in reassurance and curling her finger around a handful of his jumper, pulling him closer.

“I think I was meant to be stood up.” She admits. “As cliché as it might sound, it led me here.”

“You’re right.” He mumbles, lips inches from hers. “That is very soppy.”

“Oh, shut up and kiss me.”

He’s tugged into her lips in less than a second. It’s better than he’s ever allowed himself to imagine during those lonely evenings spent staring at his ceiling, it’s everything to him. She moves her lips with his eagerly, as if she would be happy to the spend the rest of her life with him in this moment.

She’s perfect, it’s a fact he’s known since they were seventeen, but never has it been more true than this moment, tangled together in a kiss they’ve both been longing for in secret for far too long. All this time he’s not been the only one with what felt like an unattainable crush, no the only one suffering the ache of a heart in love.

“You’re amazing.” He exhales against her lips, eliciting one of those gorgeous laughs. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Georgie.”

“I’d listen to you say that all day.”

“Who’s the soppy one now?”

“Hm, just don’t tell Fred.”

authors note; v v rushed, if i didnt put it out though, I would spend all week on it and I have a mountain of uni work to do so meh, also drinking game: drink every time unless ur underage pls they confess their love... can you tell i’m super impressed by myself this time?

#george weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #george x reader #george imagine #fred and george #george weasley

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