#their breakup was messy and awful and resulted in a lot of pain

[hyp3rfixation-h3ll]

alright chat . it's time for "dissecting the inherent tragedy of transformers: botbots and the relationships in them":

toxic doomed yuri edition ( referring to these two ↑ )

(yes, i made this picmix myself 4 this. i have no regrets. also no tl;dr because you guys NEED to read this)

something i want y'all to understand is that it is Not about the idea that spud wasn't loved. he was VERY much loved by everyone, ESPECIALLY burgertron.

the whole point is that he sabotaged himself in the process of ruining someone else's life, someone who valued him and his word above others. he and burgertron BOTH let their ego get in the way of their personal lives, the only difference is that burgertron at least had the dignity to swallow his pride and apologise when it mattered most.

He gave spud a second chance because he loved him. because he recognised that he does deserve redemption, and above all else, he wants spud to know he cares, even if that means he'll never see him again, or they'll never be friends. (Even in light of the "sidekick" comment, i genuinely don't think he held any inherent malice in that statement. even if burgs was an egotist, he still loved him.)

the worst thing burgertron did in their relationship was be unaware, and im sure that despite his ego, he never meant for spud to get hurt. that's why he went out of his way to protect him, when he couldve just stood there and let spud get put on the back of a truck to never be seen again. it would have been easy.

but he didn't. he did the hard thing. the Right thing. he stood up for someone who never did the same for him.

Spud Was Loved. Spud Is loved. and sometimes love isn't going to look pretty, or manifest in holding hands and cuddling, and it isn't all rainbows and sunshine. it can hurt. it can be letting go of someone who you hurt by accident, who you never meant to harm, but it happened anyways because you made the fatal mistake of being oblivious.

And that's what Burgertron did. he let Spud go, because he understood they both needed time to heal on their own terms. regardless of if he's mad at him or not, he does still harbor positive feelings for him, and he stood up for him during times he probably shouldn't have. If he ACTUALLY hated spud, he wouldn't have stuck his neck out for him at bot prom. or believe spud when he was lying through his teeth in the games.

And that's what makes them so tragic. perhaps in another world, another life, they'd have been Actual good friends, who truly stuck by each other. maybe things would have been different.

But we'll never know that now, will we?

#botbots tag 🏪 #tf botbots #botbots #transformers botbots #media analysis #character analysis #picmix #gif warning #burgertron #spud muffin #they make me feel SHRIMP emotions you dobt GET IT #they were DOOMED from the start not of their own volition but because of other people deciding what their roles were going to be #and they obviously coped with that in their own very different ways that clashed with one another!!!!!! #but despite all of that burgertron is still WILLING to pick up the pieces if it means spud is going to be ok #because it's not about his ego or fame anymore. it's about how much he loves his friends even if their dynamic is soured #their breakup was messy and awful and resulted in a lot of pain #but he's not going to let his anger get the best of him: he WANTS spud to get better #he wants HIMSELF to get better #i want season 2 so fucking bad holy shit PLEASE #the themes of loss and growth are so important in this show it has just hit me #FUCKKKKKKK #im gonna be insane about this forever

[faithfully-limping]

hello world

So, I figured I should make an intro post, and talk about why I’m here :)

I’m Ian or Casey, a Christian who also happens to be a pansexual trans man. I am a student earning my Associates in CIT, specifically Programming. I love hiking and nature, reading, art, and food. Like many, I was raised in a conservative fundamentalist evangelical Christian household and environment. My family is non-denominational and went to many, many different churches with different beliefs through the years.

As a result, despite having what I see as loving parents, I received a lot of unhealthy and confusing theology growing up that is hard to shake. The most notable of which, of course, is that queer people will all suffer in Hell for all of eternity.

I was a fundamentalist and a homophobe doing evangelicalism for the majority of my young life. I told people in McDonalds and other various public places that Jesus would save them at age ten. I was sheltered; I figured queer people were only a thing in dark corners and hidden, shady places full of depraved people and criminals. If they existed at all.

Then, more and more friends I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing as “evil” began to come out to me. I lost a loved one, and experienced the near-suicide of another loved one, right around the time I began to have feelings for my same-sex best friend. For two years I prayed for God to take those feelings away, and received what I thought was silence.

My conclusion?

There must be no loving, intelligent higher power. Surely they must have heard my desperate cries if they were there.

For years, then, all throughout high school and early college, I was in limbo and struggling. I had absolutely no direction in my life and very little love for myself or others. Sure, I discovered I was queer, and took on what I’m sure is a familiar attitude of pride- I was born this way and fuck anyone who says otherwise, you know? If I burn in some god’s underworld, fine, because it’s not like I can change who I am. I tried that. Later on, when I began to deal with the pain of rejection and queerphobia in more mature ways, I tried other beliefs, other religions, other practices. I love them all, and I believe they all have their parts to play in others’ lives, just as they did in mine, but I could not escape a different call.

I constantly worried about Hell, about life after death, and most compellingly, a higher purpose. I’d had a messy coming out to my family, a horrible relationship and breakup, pain was coming in at all sides. I had dropped out of college twice, lost a job, and ended up doing what I thought at the time was nothing. I now see it was recovery.

I felt pretty awful about myself, still living with my parents, bringing in very little money selling products online, finding very little joy in my day to day life. I’d once loved art, nature, animals, reading. I couldn’t muster up the energy to do those things anymore. I tried escaping through food, through Netflix, through gaming. I then tried self improvement, business, and art. I tried going back to school.

There was always something missing.

In fall of 2019, a family member lost a job, and decided to pursue some much-needed disability. Our household income, which was six figures, was halved. In an attempt to lower our rent and bills, we started looking for a house to buy and own. It sounded crazy, but for a month we searched and got no results. Nothing was in our price range and safe and big enough for a family of four.

One day, I witnessed my dad praying in his truck.

The very same day, we got our dream home (a fenced in yard, a fireplace, a quiet neighborhood), the house we are currently living in, for a price lower than what we expected to pay.

This event came off the back of several points of pain and stress in my life- facing the reality of death and worrying about that. Returning to school. Family health issues. Then, a miracle providing for us.

I couldn’t ignore God calling me any longer.

But, I was still queer. I’d already tried suppressing and ignoring that, I’d tried praying it away. I’d tried ignoring faith. I’d even tried integrating the two before, but got so hung up and distressed about the Side A vs Side B debate at the time, that I just couldn’t bear to face faith and sexuality together. I went back into limbo.

Why was this time different?

Maybe it was because that was when I discovered Queer Theology. It certainly was a big part of it. Maybe it was because a friend had bought me The Screwtape Letters just months before. Maybe it was because my brush with self improvement as the center of my life had taught me to weigh things more maturely, to stay emotionally centered, and to seek to be virtuous and contribute something to the world. Or maybe it was because I discovered Ask A Mortician that one day, or saw I Can Only Imagine in theaters with my family on the best vacation of my life a few years prior. Maybe it was the journaling Bible my mother gifted me as a surprise (a genuine surprise- I was a Pagan at the time) on my 21st Easter. Or, or, or...

Do you see what I’m getting at with that paragraph? Maybe it wasn’t just one thing. Maybe everything, everything in my life has connected in an intensely miraculous and complex way to lead me to that decision to ask God to come back into my life.

Everything. Every movie, book, video, game, person, bite of food, sight of nature... All of it shaped me into this person who is able to say today that I am queer, I am loved by God, and I love him back. I don’t have all the answers yet of what my life should look like, how I should live this love, but I want to build my relationship with my Lord. I have returned to prayer, I am learning to appreciate and embrace the depth and beauty of the Bible in new ways. I have been journaling, but I guess in typing all this out and posting it, I’m finally strong enough to seek out one of the pieces I am missing; community. Putting myself out there is terrifying, and I still have a lot of spiritual baggage to work through, but I’m here.

And I see now that God’s silence in response to my attempts to “pray the gay away” was an answer.

It was a “No.”

It was a “My grace, my mercy, my love is enough.”

It was a “Have faith in me.”

#queer christian #first post #intro #hell #religion #homophobia #long post

[okloveyoulani]

How I turned a breakup into a pilot script

I can't believe it's been exactly a year since THE breakup.

The breakup none of my friends or family actually believed because it happened so many times. (Yeah it was one of those relationships). And here's the thing, it had nothing to do with my ex partner and EVERYTHING to do with me. Because deciding to officially end that relationship was the first step on my journey of choosing myself and committing to do the inner work needed for me to get more clarity on my creative purpose, unpacking my struggles with cultural identity, and embarking on my larger spiritual journey.

AND NOW I SIT. I sit with the first draft of a series pilot script in my hands and did my first table read last week. This script truly is my living testament and proof to myself of what I'm capable of when I reduce the noise around me and listen to my inner self and the wisdom of my ancestors.

So how did I get to this point? There's a ton of messiness throughout a healing journey, but here are 8 key steps I took.

1. Broke it off. Officially this time! Or the self-reintroduction as I call it. To break off a toxic relationship can be quite an excruciating process especially when you've hit a rock bottom and have to quite literally save yourself. There was so much pain I had to sit with and let pass through me, but I look back and I consider it one of the hardest and bravest things i've ever done...to finally choose myself <3

2. Read. A lot. Oh I spent night after night reading spirituality books from Echkart Tolle's The Power of Now and Untethered Soul to women-led healing books such as Rupi Kaur's Homebody and Women Who Run with The Wolves by Clarissa Pinkola Estés. I'd read and then I'd journal. This was how I got used to living alone for the first time.

3. Art therapy. I've always had some sort of creative outlet in my life. Whether that be piano, writing skits for my cousins to act out, making t-shirts and selling them at school, graphic design, etc. So when looking for a therapist to guide me on my healing journey post breakup, I gravitated toward art therapy. It was through art that I was able to unpack my traumas rooted in cultural identity and reconnect to my ancestors. And I finally started to understand that the breakup was a catalyst for me to reclaim my mixed cultural identity and find myself in wholeness.

4. Cleared the roster. Meaning I cleared any distraction I could in my life in order to turn down the noise around me and focus. I ended all talking phases with guys I was casually dating, intentionally didn't make plans for multiple weekends in a row, and emotionally unattached myself from work.

5. Clarified Creative Purpose. This was the biggest turning point in my journey and the official investment in myself I needed to turn my creativity into action. I started the creative leadership program IGNITE by Majo Molfino, author of Breaking the Good Girl Myth and host of HEROINE podcast. Here is where I clarified my creative purpose to create stories that embolden mixed and Pasifika women to accept, celebrate, and beautifully exist.

6. Named Idea. As part of the IGNITE curriculum, I crystalized the idea I was focusing on which was Ok Love You <3 a romantic comedy series about the journey of a mixed Samoan woman inspired by my cultural identity healing journey. I was pushed to learn from experts and test each part of the series with protagonists which were other mixed and Pasifika women.

7. Wrote. A lot. I spent a lot of time writing and rewriting my first draft. It's gone through many different versions and will continue to evolve and change. Throughout writing, one of the hardest parts was overcoming resistance that met me primarily in the form of negative thoughts, good girl myths (learn more in Majo's book), and creative scars. I forced myself to truly think like a scientist and take a more data-driven approach to testing my writing, scenes, dialogue, etc. It resulted in more than just a finished first draft...but being able to emotionally un-attach myself to the words on the paper and the outcome.

8. Pilot table read. So terrifying but truly grateful to have met so many friends through the agency I work at who are creative thinkers, entrepreneurs, and day one supporters of each other. I casted out each character to those who were there and we had a blast reading through the script. It was incredibly helpful to get early feedback and motivating to keep working on the next draft.

In addition to these 8 steps, there were many beautiful and unexpected outcomes as well such as reconnecting and forging a close relationship with my grandma, starting to put my truths out on social, and finding a group of mixed women who I believe will be forever friends <3

I truly can't believe it's been exactly a year since THE breakup.

And I'm truly in awe of how much I've evolved and grown. This is just the beginning.

OK LOVE YOU, LANI <3

[socialattractionuk]

Dogfishing: The sinister dating trend haunting the apps

A cute man with a cute dog… but can he be trusted? (Picture: Ella Byworth/metro.co.uk)

One of the greatest tragedies of my entire life occurred earlier this week, when I thought I had been the first person to coin a new dating trend: dogfishing.

This is a phenomenon whereby people on dating apps pose with pictures of cute dogs, only for you to discover that these mutts belong to other people.

Convinced that inventing this term was going to be my ticket to stardom, I quit my job and divorced my husband (sadly, I don’t think it’s possible for a relationship to work when there is a disparity in wealth and fame).

I also started preparing quips for when I was inevitably invited onto the Graham Norton Show, where I would regale Helen Mirren and Post Malone with the story of how I first came up with it.

It’s a great anecdote: I was speaking to someone on a dating app who had lots of pictures of the same chow chow, so I asked him if the chow chow belonged to him, and he replied that no, it was his friend’s and he was just looking after it – and the rest is history.

So you can imagine the overwhelming pain, disappointment and humiliation I felt when I typed ‘dogfishing’ into Google and the search returned 4,960,000 results.

I scrolled down, in a state of rising dread, to see outlets covering the term – each fresh article like a knife through my heart. I realised then that there would be no money, no fame, no Helen Mirren with tears of mirth streaming down her face.

If you see an animal this cute or funny on a dating app, beware… (Picture: Getty)

But perhaps I’m overreacting. Perhaps this is no loss at all. Because, when you really think about it, isn’t the concept of dogfishing a little… stupid?

The supposed problem with dogfishing is that it rests on deception, that it’s an attempt at trickery. Women are statistically more likely to be attracted to men if they own a dog, apparently, on the basis that this suggests a kind personality – so the motive is certainly there.

But the same qualities that would make a dog owner kind or warm would surely also apply to dog lovers in general. There are lots of practical reasons why someone who likes dogs might not own one, unrelated to their personal warmth or lack thereof.

One study has suggested that a quarter of men with pets deliberately use them as ‘bait’ on dating apps. But it seems extremely unlikely that men who don’t like dogs are borrowing them from friends or relatives in a purely cynical effort to impress women on Hinge.

Maybe they just like dogs. Maybe they really do love their brother’s French bulldog with an all-consuming passion; maybe they would take a bullet for their landlord’s Chihuahua.

Being the ‘victim’ of dogfishing (that most heinous crime) might be disappointing in the sense that you wanted access to a cute dog yourself  – but it’s hardly evidence of poor moral character.

After all, should you really be trying to date someone just because they have a dog?

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While we should never underestimate the capacity of other people to be horrible d**kheads, in this case it’s probably safe to assume that if someone has pictures of dogs on their profile, it’s because they like dogs.

If you also like dogs, that’s something you have in common, and it’s not really a cause for concern.

So that’s that. Anyway, I can’t wait to tell you guys about this hot new dating trend I’ve come up with – this one is really going to pop off.

It’s basically the same thing but with cats. I haven’t thought of a name yet.

Dating terms and trends, defined

Breadcrumbing: Leaving ‘breadcrumbs’ of interest – random noncommittal messages and notifications that seem to lead on forever, but don’t actually end up taking you anywhere worthwhile Breadcrumbing is all about piquing someone’s interest without the payoff of a date or a relationship.

Caspering: Being a friendly ghost - meaning yes, you ghost, but you offer an explanation beforehand. Caspering is all about being a nice human being with common decency. A novel idea.

Catfish: Someone who uses a fake identity to lure dates online.

Clearing: Clearing season happens in January. It’s when we’re so miserable thanks to Christmas being over, the cold weather, and general seasonal dreariness, that we will hook up with anyone just so we don’t feel completely unattractive. You might bang an ex, or give that creepy guy who you don’t really fancy a chance, or put up with truly awful sex just so you can feel human touch. It’s a tough time. Stay strong.

Cloutlighting: Cloutlighting is the combo of gaslighting and chasing social media clout. Someone will bait the person they’re dating on camera with the intention of getting them upset or angry, or making them look stupid, then share the video for everyone to laugh at.

Cuffing season: The chilly autumn and winter months when you are struck by a desire to be coupled up, or cuffed.

Firedooring: Being firedoored is when the access is entirely on one side, so you're always waiting for them to call or text and your efforts are shot down.

Fishing: When someone will send out messages to a bunch of people to see who’d be interested in hooking up, wait to see who responds, then take their pick of who they want to get with. It’s called fishing because the fisher loads up on bait, waits for one fish to bite, then ignores all the others.

Flashpanner: Someone who’s addicted to that warm, fuzzy, and exciting start bit of a relationship, but can’t handle the hard bits that might come after – such as having to make a firm commitment, or meeting their parents, or posting an Instagram photo with them captioned as ‘this one’.

Freckling: Freckling is when someone pops into your dating life when the weather’s nice… and then vanishes once it’s a little chillier.

Gatsbying: To post a video, picture or selfie to public social media purely for a love interest to see it.

Ghosting: Cutting off all communication without explanation.

Grande-ing: Being grateful, rather than resentful, for your exes, just like Ariana Grande.

Hatfishing: When someone who looks better when wearing a hat has pics on their dating profile that exclusively show them wearing hats.

Kittenfishing: Using images that are of you, but are flattering to a point that it might be deceptive. So using really old or heavily edited photos, for example. Kittenfishes can also wildly exaggerate their height, age, interests, or accomplishments.

Lovebombing: Showering someone with attention, gifts, gestures of affection, and promises for your future relationship, only to distract them from your not-so-great bits. In extreme cases this can form the basis for an abusive relationship.

Microcheating: Cheating without physically crossing the line. So stuff like emotional cheating, sexting, confiding in someone other than your partner, that sort of thing.

Mountaineering: Reaching for people who might be out of your league, or reaching for the absolute top of the mountain.

Obligaswiping: The act of endlessly swiping on dating apps and flirt-chatting away with no legitimate intention of meeting up, so you can tell yourself you're doing *something* to put yourself out there.

Orbiting: The act of watching someone's Instagram stories or liking their tweets or generally staying in their 'orbit' after a breakup.

Paperclipping: When someone sporadically pops up to remind you of their existence, to prevent you from ever fully moving on.

Preating: Pre-cheating - laying the groundwork and putting out feelers for cheating, by sending flirty messages or getting closer to a work crush.

Prowling: Going hot and cold when it comes to expressing romantic interest.

R-bombing: Not responding to your messages but reading them all, so you see the 'delivered' and 'read' signs and feel like throwing your phone across the room.

Scroogeing: Dumping someone right before Christmas so you don't have to buy them a present.

Shadowing: Posing with a hot friend in all your dating app photos, knowing people will assume you're the attractive one and will be too polite to ask.

Shaveducking: Feeling deeply confused over whether you're really attracted to a person or if they just have great facial hair.

Sneating:When you go on dates just for a free meal.

Stashing: The act of hiding someone you're dating from your friends, family, and social media.

Submarineing: When someone ghosts, then suddenly returns and acts like nothing happened.

V-lationshipping:When someone you used to date reappears just around Valentine's Day, usually out of loneliness and desperation.

You-turning: Falling head over heels for someone, only to suddenly change your mind and dip.

Zombieing: Ghosting then returning from the dead. Different from submarineing because at least a zombie will acknowledge their distance.

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[characteresque]

It were as if I were the good and then there were the 'everyone else'. 

If William Hall had any advice for his students, young or old, it would be short and to-the-point: life doesn’t turn out the way you think it will. Even self-made millionaires and their snobby children with golden-laid paths in front of them will experience deviations from The Plan, and in one way or another, every winding road leads to a new destination.

Will was a happy child born in the in the early 80’s to a very stable home. His room was filled with plastic Star Wars figurines and Star Trek “The Final Frontier” posters above his bed, even a jar labeled “Will’s Nintendo Fund” filled with quarters adorned his messy dresser. He was a nerd, self-proclaimed and teased, and being the son of the high school principal didn’t earn him any brownie points. His older brother and sister, both sports-minded and sociable, only seemed to mind Will’s presence in the company of…well…anyone. So, Will was alone to delve into his fascination with all things dork: and delve he did.

During middle school, Will put the final nail in his popularity coffin as he skipped lunch and traversed the library shelves for some new friends. Out of curiosity, he lugged home a large (and disappointingly unused) book about mass migration from eastern Europe to the Americas – and William Hall’s deep love for history blossomed. He made fast friends with the librarian that summer, and due the unpopularity of the non-fiction historical section, Will had the freedom to take home as many books from the shelves as he pleased. As high school approached and the looming reality that his father would be his principal (and everyone would know it), Will had finally found his niche.

It’s a shame that things could only get more complicated from there.

Will founded the Historical Insights Club, with the pull of his father, and after school on Wednesdays – for just one shining afternoon – Will felt listened to and appreciated. He got a rush from teaching the other students, and as he graduated, Will knew: he wanted to be a teacher. But there’s a complicated dilemma to this story: being a gay teacher in the early turn of the millennium isn’t as fun, nor as easy as it is today.

Will graduated with honors and quickly sped through college, his eyes on the prize. Boyfriends rotated through the seasons of his life, but during the last two years of his bachelor’s degree Will fell hard for a man in California by the name of Terrell Evans. William Hall packed up his life in Iowa and moved in with his long-term boyfriend in 2004, shortly after he scored his Bachelor of History. His parents were shocked at his coming out, but his brother and sister were not: Will worked hard to re-establish his relationship with his family as his dedication to Terrell loomed closer. The couple struggled until Will finally landed a 9th grade history teaching job at a lower-income school on the other side of town – money was never rolling in, but they made ends meet. Marriage wasn’t an option for Will, something he detested. There didn’t seem to be any hints toward marriage equality, even in the liberal state he had moved to…even though, the two had a small ceremony to celebrate their lives together. Will called it a wedding, and was overjoyed to see that his family would attend.

Things were going great for Will. He taught happily for a handful of years, eventually moving to a high school with an advanced-placement history course as he continued his education. Four years later, Will became Dr. William Hall and his ambition drove him higher up the education ladder to seek college teaching positions – or, at least he would have. Five years into their partnership, countless thousands of dollars of student debt and struggle, Will found it harder and harder to make it to class each day. That winter, a major flu took over the household and both Terrell and Will passed the infection to one another. Headaches, pains, fevers, coughs and sore throats – the typical wintertime faire – but it seemed as if they were the only two in the world who could get a gross flu outbreak in the tepid California winters. Terrell seemed to clear up after a few days, but for Will, it took six weeks of chicken soup before he finally broke down to visit a doctor.

Will walked into that clinic expecting a prescription of antibiotics, maybe a shot at the most extreme: but what he got instead was a very odd visit from his primary care doctor after Terrell left the room. His doctor urged Will for an HIV test, and the battle began. Was this because he was homosexual? The annoyance grew with every passing minute. This was precisely why he left Iowa, and the initial suggestion of an STD panel met extreme resistance from the young teacher. Will insisted that he got tested just before their courtship, he’d only had one sexual partner since that day. There’s no way he wanted the test, and so Will walked into the waiting room with his prescription of antibiotics just as he expected. He waited for Terrell, his arms crossed rebelliously. When Terrell walked out of that lab room with a bright blue bandage around his elbow, Will came unglued. How dare that doctor test him for a disease he didn’t have! But Terrell just laughed in his dismissive, good-natured way and the two went home to heal from their superbug.

When Terrell sat Will down for dinner two weeks later, life seemed to be getting back to normal. Terrell certainly felt better, and Will was hoping he’d be shortly behind. But this dinner would mark the beginning of a long line of suffering for Will: because Terrell had a terrible secret.

He’d been cheating.

And what’s more, he was HIV positive. He had been for at least three years now.

So, in other words: he knew. Terrell knew and he did nothing for his boyfriend.

Will fell apart. His entire life seemed to be a path, albeit a bit bumpy, straight to everything he’d ever wanted. He wanted to be a cool professor with hundreds of students who loved history, a speaker for middle school-aged kids who were interested in scholarly things just as he had been. Will wanted to be that teacher for young dorks that he had pined for: a friend. He’d teach the passionate young people during the day, and mentor the young ones after school: he’d be the shining beacon of knowledge and he’d be adored for the qualities that made his own younger years such hell. He wanted these things so badly it hurt, and yet, here he was, 25 years old with a death sentence and a deceitful sham of a non-marriage.

He went directly to his doctor the next morning, Terrell staying with his younger sister for the time being. Will had the apartment all to himself, surrounded by the memories of a person he never even knew. The results of his HIV test didn’t surprise him, but it certainly made concrete to Will that his life was over.

Will wanted that moment of confrontation with Terrell. He planned and schemed and knew exactly what he wanted to say to him after all he’d put him through. He wanted to tear the man down and make him feel just as insignificant as Will felt: nothing. But when Will and Terrell finally met again to talk it out, to finally bring up that ugly and fearful B-word – Will knew he couldn’t do it.

Terrell looked awful and his descent was fairly fast. He hadn’t treated his HIV infection for the years he’d been cheating on Will, and the stress of the failing relationship did nothing to help him. Will saw Terrell falling down a slippery slope, and while the two rifled through bank statements and bills to separate the names…Will got sucked back in. It was never the same, and Will’s distrust of Terrell made it clear that the two would be tragically platonic in a way. Will struggled to find a college teaching position from 2009 to 2013 as he cared for Terrell, their combined mounting medical bills deepening the rift between them. But Terrell never truly recovered, the fight inside of him seemed to die after their non-breakup. He forgot his medications and took mediocre care of himself, and Will’s patience for the man who ruined his life was unconditional but beginning to waver. Terrell could sense this – which lead to more arguments and more drama. Looking back, Will feels guilty for staying there for Terrell: maybe if he had left at the beginning, Terrell wouldn’t have died.

Will was there for Terrell every step of the way. The good moments were peaceful and the bad moments were terrible, but he never left. It earned him only the scorn of Terrell’s family who hated Will for making their son’s last years so turbulent despite his mistakes, and the disgust of his own family for staying with a man who clearly cared so little for him. And, suddenly without Terrell, Will found himself utterly alone.

This darkest chapter of Will’s life lead to some irresponsible decisions. He’d lost his zeal for life, something that was a cornerstone of his inner character. He needed a change, and he sure got one: during the summer of 2013 while the dirt over Terrell’s grave was still loose, William Hall once again packed up his life and hit the road. This time, he had no objective. He tried to pretend he was a teenager again, a young Luke Skywalker in search of his Obi-Wan. As the miles rolled behind him, each new state brought him more and more freedom. It got colder and more sparse the further east he went, and Will found himself drawn northward. Finally, three weeks before the start of a new school year, Will rolled into a sleepy little Maine town with a trunk full of medications and a renewed sense of hope.

This’ll do.

Will had sold most of his possessions in California to fund his three month soul journey, and the last thing to his name was the small slate gray car he’d picked out with Terrell from the used car lot downtown. It was bittersweet to sell the little car, but the money it brought afforded the hopeful man a studio apartment next to a small community college downtown. Technically, he lived in a popular student area…but there’s no way he was blending in. It occurred to Will that, for the first time in his life, he truly felt so old.

Will’s luck can’t be described as all bad this year, though. The college greedily took Will on as two weeks before, one of their professors took an extended leave of absence following a rocky divorce. He was underpaid and given the courses to fill that no other history teacher would touch with a ten-foot pole: but to Will, this was a new start. He poured his renewed energy into his job, and bought himself a bike.

The best part of teaching, for Will at least, is the constant flow of new information. Not just scholarly information, either. The second chapter of Will’s life begins with the realization that his life was in fact not over, and the prognosis for HIV positive people wasn’t what he’d expected after the AIDs scare he’d been introduced to as a kid. He was a young, handsome, gay teacher with a stable job, and it’s time to heal.

Will began paying off his student loans and medical bills one at a time, his meager income affording him some small luxuries such as the occasional date. For a few years he floundered around the dating scene, but his completely upfront nature cost him greatly. After what Terrell did, keeping silent about his HIV was not an option: but it certainly complicated his dating activities. Will must have gone on about sixty dates with many different men before realizing maybe…this was just his life now. He’d all but exhausted his pool of dating partners, as most of the people who lived in his immediate area were either decidedly not gay or, even worse, they were college students.

Well, maybe that wasn’t all bad to Will. After all, Terrell had been nine years older and their relationship would have been perfect. Will casually dated a student for the first time sometime in 2014 – and it was all downhill from there. Will found himself attracted to the danger, now 29 years old and feeling a huge degree higher in maturity to his students who usually ranged about 23. There was something intoxicating about the ability to teach and protect even in a romantic sense; and Will’s once narrow dating pool expanded greatly. They made him feel young. There were some weak moments that Will even invited his own students to his office just for a chance at a movie date: some students took the bait, others ran for the hills. It was all very casual, very fun: maybe if he felt more serious about a date, he’d offer up the dark smudge on his history and hope they’d feel comfortable to make out afterwards.

Most didn’t.

Will’s HIV treatments were working wonders on his body. He lived a very healthy life with a predictable routine. He’d caught the infection early and the medication only seemed to improve as the years went on. It had gotten to the point that Will’s frustration stemmed only from not finding a long-term partner three years after the death of his boyfriend, and after gay marriage had finally been legalized! It dangled in front of his eyes like a spinning fish on a hook, the one thing he thought he could never have finally available to him but no one to share it with.

Will wasn’t looking for marriage the night he logged on to craigslist for a young man to spend his evening with, though. It was cold and the thought of spending the afternoon with someone to cuddle with, paid or not, was too much for him. But the chain of events that Will would unintentionally set into motion that very night would be unlike any of the others in his life, the winding path with side-roads and potholes that he’d experienced so far seeming like a highway express lane.

No, life rarely turns out the way you’d want it to. Just ask any person their story, and you’ll hear it over and over again in various ways: it just didn’t work out. But, sometimes, and for a lucky few – it can turn out better. Thank god for Will that he finds his sweet religion after all.

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#Will #Sweet Religion #contemporary romance #Writing #OC #Zane's Character #TW: AIDS #TW: HIV #My god it's been too long #I've been working on NANOWRIMO