desperate for god

“I call them clobber verses. There are six of them. They’re the verses that get used to hammer gay people. The funny thing is that I never felt pressured by God himself. Only his followers. But I desperately wanted God to change me. I didn’t want to be part of a group with so much shame attached to it. So I started praying in my twenties for God to make me straight. If I could have taken a pill, I would have. I joined the ministry. I got married. I told my wife that I’d had experiences with men, but I convinced both of us that I could choose to be different. I wanted to be normal. I wanted kids. I thought it was just a matter of commitment. I even tried to take reparative therapy classes—just to show her I was serious. They tried to teach me that homosexuality wasn’t real. They said that I’d just had an overbearing mother. But I couldn’t change. I kept slipping up. I couldn’t give my wife what she needed. My marriage ended. I had tried so hard but nothing worked. I got so angry with God for not keeping up his end of the bargain. But after some time, I finally realized why he wouldn’t change me. He never felt like he needed to.”

When you’re unsure of your next step, God is with you.
When you’re struggling to make it through the day, God is with you.
When you don’t know if you want to try another day, God is with you.
Even in the trials you don’t want to face, God is with you.
When you are yearning for escape, God is with you.
When you have failed time and time again, God is with you.
When you are clawing, desperately, to find another way, God is with you.
When you’ve messed up so badly you’re not sure if you can forgive yourself, God is with you.
Through all of it, all of the terrible things that happen in this life, God is with you.
He is with you in the hard times. He is with you in the hardest times. He is with you. Always. And that is never going to change.

I am so desperate for someone to kiss me
That I started going to bars alone
In the hopes that some magical love story will plunge itself into my depths and I will be completed
But I am so deep in desperation that anyone
Even the ones with dirt on their necks and scum on their shoes
Look to be like princes riding in on white horses
I just want to be held
I just want to be touched.
—  c.d. - The Dirt Stayed After the Baptism

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Apparently I have an exam of the subject I am most screwed in like least tomorrow, and I missed the two classes with the exam’s subject, so here’s a fic I wrote this afternoon instead of studying.

Contains depression.

His name was Nico di Angelo. He was 19 years old. He was a student at New York University. His dad was called Hades and he had two sisters. He had friends who cared about him (Reyna and Jason, for example). He had a boyfriend. He had depression and took medication. He liked… he wanted…

Next question.

He didn’t like loud noises or college. He didn’t like the concerning early joy of morning people (with one outstanding exception). He didn’t like himself–

Oh. No, no. Bad direction. Let’s change the course.


(When would this end? When, when? He just wanted a date so he could mark it in a calendar and wait for time to do this job. Why was he… this? Why was his brain sick? He didn’t think it was very fair.

Well, many things weren’t fair. So, in the end, it made some sort of absurd sense that he had the shitty mental illness, he guessed.

Maybe he had done something bad in another life. Killed someone. Mistreated someone who needed him. And this life was his redeeming path.

Which was great, because when his mental illness acted up he could hardly do anything, let alone something bad. Ha!

The next life better give him a yacht and an endless vacation.)

“Babe? …Neeks? Neeks.” His boyfriend had been poking his arm. “You there? What are you doing?” 

Wallowing in self-pity and the pain of being here when he didn’t want to be and imagining how easier things would be if he was dead.

Nico puffed his cheeks out, closed his eyes, and didn’t answer.

“Ah.” Will mumbled. Nico silently agreed.

The worst part about it when he was like this was that nothing was the better option. Being alone was dangerous and sometimes it wasn’t what he wanted, while he never wanted other people to be forced to put up with this shit too.

“You took all your medication today?”

Nico nodded.

“Okay. Have you eaten anything?”

Nico shook his head, briefly wanting to make a face. He really didn’t want to eat anything right now. Open his mouth, chew, swallow. Taste nothing. Be more tired later.

Will didn’t ask whether there was anything he’d liked to eat.

In fact, his boyfriend didn’t say anything for a while.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” He asked at last.

Was there?

Nico couldn’t think of anything, so he shook his head.

“Okay.” Will said.

Then there was a sound of something being thrown on the floor, near the couch Nico was lying on. A zipper being opened, and the spiral of a notebook being dragged along it as it was taken out of the bag. Pens scattering on the floor. Will mumbling something under his breath. 

Nico focused on the sounds, even as Will tried to be as quiet as possible.

He – thankfully – must have fallen asleep not so long after that. When he woke up, the room was much darker, no sunlight to create long shadows he could follow with his eyes. The – lack of – color in the walls dimmed to a quiet gray that he thought he liked, for some reason.

Will was still there, and Nico could barely see the dark wood of the floor around him, seeing as it was covered with opened thick books, papers, the laptop Will always had with him, currently showing a skeleton and the names of its bones.

Nico vaguely hoped Will wouldn’t have to memorize all those names. Poor boyfriend.

Said boyfriend was lying on the floor, one hand above his chest, holding a small piece of paper, and mouth slightly opened. His snoring wasn’t too loud.

Nico kind of wanted to take a picture of that so he could look at it when he was in a shitty mood.

But he didn’t remember where his phone was (it probably had no battery anyway), and didn’t feel like looking for it.

Thank goodness his boyfriend’s phone was right there near the couch.

He extended his arm and got it, then managed to record a small video of his boyfriend nearly drooling over his papers, snoring in high definition sound.

Future good mood: guaranteed.

But he wasn’t cruel and heartless, so after a couple of minutes of convincing himself to do it, he stood up, involving himself in the blanket he’d brought, and walked to the man on the floor.

He poked him until he woke up with a start.

“What? Neeks? Everything alright? What– Oh.” He mumbled when he saw the mess of the floor.

“Let’s go to bed.” Nico mumbled. He vaguely noticed the taste in his mouth was bad and that he didn’t smell great either.

“But I have to learn Latin.”

Will, what?

“Nap.” Nico insisted, and Will looked conflicted for about two seconds before his shoulders slumped and he nodded, rubbing his face.


His boyfriend stood up. The piece of paper he’d been holding fell, and it took a moment in which they both just stared at it before Will crouched down and got it.

“Oh! Right.” Will said with renewed excitement. “Neeks, look what I learned. See this paper in my hands–”

He made a gesture too fast for Nico to completely follow – his mind was still hazy – but the paper seemed to disappear from his hands for a moment, before Will pretended to take it from behind Nico’s ear.

Nico blinked at him.

“Ta-da! I’m a magician now!” Will beamed. “Now please open it?”

Nico didn’t really want to – he wanted to be asleep; things didn’t hurt when he was asleep. But this seemed to be important to Will, for whatever reason, so he took the paper.

And opened it.

You are awesome and worth it and I love you! =D – Your bff bf’, it said.

Below the words, two hearts had been drawn holding hands – one painted with blue ink, the other seemingly blank, empty.

Truth be told, the words made the corner of his lips lift a little, but the smile on Will’s face was what made his entire being warmer, brighter.

“I thought BFF boyfriend was particularly clever.” Will informed him.

“You’re a genius.” Nico murmured. “Now come down here, please. You sappy Houdini.”

Will leaned down to kiss him – too fast, since the idiot felt the need to pull back and say, “This is my favorite nickname ever, by the way”.

Nico gave him a pointed look and stuck his tongue out at him.

“I’m offended. And there I thought you loved me. Hmpf!” Will acted upset for a second, crossing his arms and everything. Then he dropped his act and his smile became softer, more attentive. “Okay, enough of being dorks. Sleep?”

“Sleep.” Nico agreed, and they both walked silently toward his room, the only sound being that of the blanket being dragged through the floor. Will’s hand was warm in his, and Nico held the paper close to his chest.




is that how she’s gonna remember everything? and him?

And I get it. I get why you were so scared of us now. Because – shit. Because you lost Wallace and it gutted you and I thought I figured out why and that felt like metal in my throat, and I realised I couldn’t drop you if I wanted to, ‘cause you were saying you didn’t even know what love feels like and I was just thinking,

you idiot,

you asshole,

it feels like this.


- in celebration of Ninety One Whiskey - @cuddlebabies