#it’s almost healing my religious issues

[blackmoonoracle]

PICK A CARD - MASCULINE WOUNDS

You can find my brief breakdown of masculine energy in the natal chart here. Tip Jar

PILE 1

tw: sexual trauma

Anger and sex drive, the people in this particular collective may have experienced sexual trauma at any point in time that has developed into an issue with emotional security. In order to heal you need to learn how to develop trust in your perception, self expression, decision making, and any chronic pain or issues need to be given more thought and care. Not accepting the bare minimum, not pushing yourself for the sake of others, not letting others take your power.

Taking your power back for the sake of yourself.

This is an energy of being conscious of chronic issues, extreme trauma, healing from extreme abuse and allowing yourself to let go of the cycle of releasing your power in order to survive. You are not helpless, you are not incapable, you are not weak, you are not bad, you are not a waste of space, energy, words, time, effort, or love. You are a worthy being, you have earned your place, your reputation, your successes, and your desired future. You have suffered a lot, in some way shape or form.

This could've been mental or sexual anguish in pre teen years.

Feeling almost disgusting or gross for existing as a sexual being. Disdain for sex, astonishment I heard as well? I feel like there is potential religious trauma regarding sex in this pile.

There may also be a sense of pain or confusion about life in general, perhaps you are someone who struggles with feeling destined for failure. Like part of you still doesn't believe that you're not destined to suffer, you've learned so much and I feel like a lot of you are like older gen z or late teens.

It feels like you've always felt very judged, and very misinterpreted. Like others could've been offended by your mere presence. Something about the way you thought, or spoke, or expressed yourself was or is very upsetting for people. You're not afraid to talk about the truth? Is the exact way I'm hearing it be described.

You have very powerful voice, and your words pack a punch in more than one way.

Your words project veryyy quickly into your reality, and I heard "reaffirming reality" as well, treating your brain like a science project I heard? LMAO it's giving aquarius 😭

So do mirror affirmations, some of you could have an affinity towards mirror magick. That being said handle that carefully, and know to be careful in approaching that. Make sure you're researching and covering your bases. I heard Aphrodite, so Aphrodite could be trying to work with someone. I also heard keep your peace, so chill out, don't engage with anyone. You're in the process of taking back your power so sometimes people act up. LITERALLY not a you problem, and if they make it a you problem stand your goddamn ground and show that person, no matter who they are, what role they play in your life, that you are under no circumstances going to continue to take their shit. The universe is testing you, lock tf in and don't worry about anyone else. Worry about YOU and YOUR DREAMS, and YOUR DESIRES. Plant the seeds that truly matter to YOU, you won't know if it works until you try it. Don't be afraid to do what you're passionate about. Don't be afraid to be yourself, your authenticity really resonates with others in some way shape or form. It's how you connect with people, you show them that being yourself is a lot less painful that you'd think.

This could be black Moon Lilith in cancer and Scorpio or 4th and 8th house Chiron energy. you could be a cancer rising, some of you could have a leo descendant? I heard polish and German as well for some others, someone could be polish another person could be German. If this pile resonated and you'd like to purchase a personal reading on this topic you can purchase one for just 55$ or send over a tip on Venmo or Kofi if the message resonated and helped in some way! https://ko-fi.com/blackmoonoracle @blackmoonoracle is my Venmo!

PILE 2

Self Worth, and Value/Honorary Systems This collective has very powerful values. This could be Taurean, or Aquarian energy, possibly also Aries. You could be mars dominant or have a prominent mars in your natal chart. Your mars may also be in the 11th, or 2nd house! Or you could have Uranus in the 2nd house or Venus in the 11th house. Suffice to say this could also be mars in Taurus, or Aquarius as well. 2nd house Venus, or 11th house aquarius. There's something with individualism in this pile as well. A lot of deeply practical energy, possibly very venusian as well. Could have Venus in pisces, or Venus-neptune interactions in the natal chart. You could have Venus in Taurus, or you could have Venus in aries I'm hearing. You are going on a deep journey of transforming your masculine will. Understanding you are worthy of making your creations, that what you create is valuable and is of quality. You are worthy of abundance, you are worthy of success. I feel like there could've been a sense of detachment since a very young age for this pile. It feels like affection could've always been a touchy subject. I'm also seeing a connection to religion here, especially with Venus being in Virgo. Virgo Venus has always reminded me of catholicism due to the very intricate and detail oriented nature of Catholic symbolism. As well as the emphasis on purity, which is an aspect of Virgo. Seeing as it is the virgin. This can also look like your love always coming with deep criticism. Perhaps you could've felt like the ways in which you expressed love were not respected. Or you could've felt like there was a feminine presence that seemed to bring you a great sense of regret. It feels like a self criticism wound. It feels like a disconnection from the mind in order to attain purity. Like, this pile could feel that they need to fully embody some aspect of a pure, or virginesque energy in order to be worthy of recognition?

Soooo specific, but hey! if it resonates it resonates. There's a deep wound here in regard to knowing how to accept help. It's like accepting help in your mind makes you feel like you're worthless, or as if you are not contributing enough. It's like you feel the need to contribute the most, so that others know you are serious and worth taking serious. Being undermined, minimized, having your values be overlooked, or being seen as unremarkable could've been something you struggled deeply with. I see a lot of pain dealing with women here. Significant Mother wounds that could've led to these wounds in your masculinity. Perhaps experiencing silencing, being forced to not do, say, act, or be in some way shape or form because it is "unsightly" or "shameful" Being disregarded, possibly some bullying here, feeling like an outsider. Like no one could grasp your values, your morals, who you TRULY are.

Almost feeling like you lack an identity.

finding balance in yourself, learning how to accept that you are worthy of being helped. That being helped does not make you unworthy, that being helped is something that is okay, that accepting care, and nurturing, and love is a good thing. starving yourself of intimacy in hopes that by taking the lashings of yourself, and others, while remaining in this "pure" state of being will finally make you worthy of being seen. vision is a general thing here. You may feel like your vision doesn't come to light, or that others don't understand your vision. It's unique, it's you, it's not what everyone else might expect of you. You're groundbreaking, no one could ever be you, learning how to be in love with your individuality. Accepting what makes you weird, and accepting yourself in spite of the way others feel. Knowing that accepting yourself is the deepest form of self connection and that you deserve to feel loved and supported.

Accepting that the embodiment of authenticity may cause issues in connections with people who cannot accept themselves or live in their own truth.

Understanding that you can find purity in your search for your authentic self, authentic truth, and your life purpose. Through embodying yourself in your truth.

If this pile resonated and you'd like to purchase a personal reading on this topic you can purchase one for just 55$ or send over a tip on Venmo or Kofi if the message resonated and helped in some way! https://ko-fi.com/blackmoonoracle @blackmoonoracle is my Venmo!

PILE 3

You may feel stuck in what you were once defined as, as if other people's perceptions of you cut extremely deeply. Your honor is important to you, you like for things to run smoothly. It's important to you to feel secure in who you are and how you express yourself.

I think that, it would be significantly healthy for this pile to learn what makes them feel passionate.

Maybe you feel that you are judged harshly, or in response to a harsh judgmental world you disconnect from yourself. Extreme self consciousness, fear of being "naked" or "vulnerable". Fear of connecting with yourself and others. Fear of relying on or connecting with your community. Feeling like an outcast, impostor syndrome. Lack of self awareness, TOO much self awareness. Untraceable, or difficult to uncover pain. Not understanding the root of things. Beauty that feels skin deep, unrealized depth, and unfulfilled potential. Learning who you are, finding the drive to connect with yourself. Understanding what it means to be you, and that you have to choose yourself at some point in order to lessen suffering. Fear of risk, and Fear of reward, a very loud self critic.

Accepting and acknowledging the mother wound in order to integrate and heal it. Connecting with earth, trusting nature, allowing yourself to think about the things you fear most. Understanding that you cannot hide from certain truths, and that looking the other way doesn't make it go away. There's a song that went viral on TikTok by MGMT called Little Dark Age. I specifically channeled the part that's like "Forgiving who you are, for what you stand to gain, just know that if you hide- it doesn't go away."

Having to understand that you are not responsible for other people, you are not Jesus, why do you bare the cross. Why do you punish yourself for not meeting the "standards" that others are projecting onto you. Are they standards, or are they control tactics, is it manipulation? Are you in alignment with YOUR thoughts, feelings, and desires? Or are you taking on the thoughts, feelings, desires, and expectations of others who want to strip you of your individuality?

Transforming your self concept, looking at what traits, qualities, and authentic self expressions are ACTUALLY in alignment with your highest good & will call in passion, success, happiness, and stability into your life?

Being proud of your intelligence, your ability to perceive, to be know how to think outside of the box.

Having a lot of eccentric natured personality traits and understanding that those are attractive to others. That what makes you different is what makes you likeable, because it's what's uniquely you. Embodying your truest self form, writing affirmations. Creating lists and notes of the hard to integrate topics and realizations in order to make them more tangible.

Excessive mental energy, very deeply tapped into divine creative expressions. Having blessed thoughts, words, and ways. Knowing that you deserve your blessings, and that you are a generator of luck and karma. That you have to ability to move mountains.

Taking it less personal when people throw rocks from glass homes, knowing that you are worthy of better, worthy of more, worthy of success. Feeding your hunger to succeed, knowing that you have the skill, knowledge, creative drive, and capability to connect with others through your art and creativity.

Uncovering what beauty means to you?

I heard Capricorn, Taurus, Virgo, PIsces, cancer, Gemini, mercury, Sagittarius, 9th house, 6th and 5th house.

Sun in aquarius, Moon in Taurus/Capricorn, Moon in gemini, Moon in Aries, Moon-mars aspects.

Mother Gaia

Disconnected from ancestors and spirit team, but willing to learn and receive.

Looking for a new outlook, looking for a way out, remaining steadfast and faithful in what you believe.

Not allowing others to dictate your thoughts, feelings, or reality.

Co-Creating with divine consciousness.

If this pile resonated and you'd like to purchase a personal reading on this topic you can purchase one for just 55$ or send over a tip on Venmo or Kofi if the message resonated and helped in some way! https://ko-fi.com/blackmoonoracle @blackmoonoracle is my Venmo!

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Marc Spector: based on a real guy?

I would like to propose Barney "Beryl" Ross (born Dov-Ber Rasofsky) (1909-1967) as a stand-in for possible Marc Spector inspiration or at least a REALLY odd coincidence. The parallels are outstanding.

Born to Eastern European Immigrant parents (From Belarus), he grew up in a tough Chicago neighborhood. 

His father was a Rabbi who looked down on fighting like Boxing and Wrestling. 

When Barney expressed interest and talent in boxing, his father told him to "Let the goyim be the fighters" and that "The trombeniks (yiddish for phony and self aggrandizer), the murderers--We are the scholars." 

Barney studied the Talmud as well and expressed interest in becoming a teacher. 

His father was murdered when someone robbed their family vegetable shop. His mother suffered a mental breakdown and his three younger siblings were sent to an orphanage when Barney was just 14. 

Barney became a thief, a gambler, and worked for Al Capone. He eventually found his money in boxing where it is speculated that Al Copone himself often promoted his shows and bought up the tickets to help him make money. 

He used the money to reunite his family. 

His career took off during the rise of Antisemitism and while Barney rejected his father's teachings and religion, he understood that he was seen as a "scrappy Jew Kid" and he needed to become a representative for his people. 

His walk into the ring song was "My Yiddishe Momma" and he often wore blue and white with the Magen David on his clothes. 

In the ring himself, he became a world champion in three weight divisions. He was never knocked out. 

His last match before he retired he went 15 rounds where he took a severe beating. His couch begged him to call it, but he refused to go down. He was determined to leave the ring on his own feet". He had 72 wins in his career, 22 of which were by K.O. 

When WWII broke out, he joined the Marines. Because of his stardome, they tried to keep him as just a pretty poster face recruit, but he insisted on fighting. 

He was almost court-martialed when his commanding officer called him a Jewish Slur and he punched him out. He was spared because the judge was also jewish. 

Barney was sent to the Pacific Theater and fought at Guadalcanal where he single handedly fought off no less than five armed Japanese soldiers after being shot. He then rescued his fellow soldier by carrying them to safety. He was awarded the Silver Star. 

Despite his complicated relationship with his religion, he was known for bringing his father's religious study books with him to training camp. 

In the war, he made friends with a catholic priest who invited him to Christmas Dinner. Barney could play the pipe organ and he provided music for the soldiers. When asked to play something Jewish, he played "My Yiddishe Momma" that left everyone in tears. 

After his wounds healed, he developed a morphine addiction that he went to rehab for and eventually recovered. He went to schools and campaigned about the dangers of drug abuse. 

He worked hard for the creation of a Jewish State and offered to lead a brigade of Jewish American Veterans. 

The Jewish Community saw him as a hero and with his back story, he fit the bill of superhero status. 

A tragic backstory, rejection of his father's life and teachings, rising up out of the rough streets, becoming a fighter, and eventually a real life war hero and fighter for Jewish Rights. 

(Check out his biography- Barney Ross: The Life of a Jewish Fighter, by Douglas Century and his autobiography No Man Stands Alone.) 

Moench most certainly did not base Marc Spector off of Barney Ross. He didn't set about making the character obviously Jewish at first. It happened naturally for various other reasons. 

But Moench also didn't give Marc his back story. 

That would be Zelenetz. 

Moon Knight Vol 1. Issue #37.  Published 1984

Writer: Alan Zelenetz

Artist: Bo Hampton

Cover Artist: Michael Kaluta 

Now, I've broken this comic down before. HERE. But let's talk about the importance of THIS story. 

You see, after the war, no one wanted to talk about the Holocaust. Most survivors didn't want to talk about what they had been through and most others liked to pretend that nothing happened. 

It wasn't until the 90s that they came up with an actual mandate that it be taught in schools! 

It wasn't until then that it suddenly became apparent that we needed to hear from the survivors and we needed to record the history before the first hand accounts were lost. 

Until this time, the only stories being told were done in comics. 

Early comics used it as a grotesque way to add in horror and action and violence. When the Comic book code of ethics stepped in (big shot guys that put down the law for swears being &#^$% and no sex and violence rating systems), then comic writers found 'creative' ways to use Nazi as the villain and ambiguously talk about their targets without mentioning their actual crimes or the people they targeted. 

THAT would change when Spiegelman's Maus was published in 1980. 

A keen observer will note the date Moon Knight Vol 1 came out. November 1980! 

Now, Marc has fought Neo Nazi before and has even faced antisemitism. He's even gone to Jerusalem. But we have never had Marc connected to the Holocaust or explored his Jewish past before Zelenetz told this story. 

“I grew up on the poor side of Chicago. My father was unconcerned with material things. ‘God loves a poor man.’ He’d say. ‘Poor in goods, rich in spirit.’” 

Sounds familiar, right? 

 And while Marc is an extreme example, we see the conflict with the Rabbi father and the son who wants to fight. 

In this same issue we see Moon Knight rescue a Rabbi and Torah from a burning synagogue that has a Swastika painted on the door. 

Moon Knight hunts down the Nazi punks and makes them hurt. 

In this issue and the next, we see Marc deal with his conflicted past regarding religion, his Rabbi father, and his choice to fight vs his father’s choice to ‘leave it to god’. 

We also find out in this issue that the reason Marc joined the Marines is because of his father’s rejection. 

"To become Moon Knight--A social conscience and moral force. Just, severe, unknowable." 

I won't replay the comic for you guys, as I've already reviewed it (though I've learned a LOT since then and I'm sure I could bring more things to light at this point... Like the fact that to bring Elias back from the dead they write the Hebrew word Emet 'truth' on his forehead. Marlene erases part of the word, leaving behind Met, which is Hebrew for 'To Die' and this sends him back to his death). 

In the ending issue, and last issue of Moon Knight’s first run, we are left with: 

"I may have misjudged my father's saintliness for cowardice and his genius and moral zeal for fanaticism. [...] And isn't moon knight in his own way a moral zealot fighting perhaps for the very same values Marc Spector once rejected?" 

Back to Alan Zelentez. 

Alan only had Moon Knight for a few issues, but he was the first and as far as my limited research has shown me, the only actually Jewish writer to get to work with Moon Knight (I hope I am pleasantly surprised as I get further into things...but I'm not holding my breath). 

Zelenetz fit a LOT of Jewish lore and fun snippets into this comic that only those that have studied Jewish folklore and the culture would easily pick out. 

He was a Junior High School and High school principal at an Orthodox Jewish school in Brooklyn. 

He worked as an editor, script writer, Judica advisor for film and helped get a few other comics started and established. 

Now, is it likely that a Jewish man in Brooklyn heard about the son of a Rabbi from Eastern Europe in Chicago who turned into an amazing boxer and later a Marine war hero? Only Zelenetz knows for sure. 

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA For discouraging my friend from exploring paganism?

I (20X) have been a Norse pagan for years. It's something I engage with both as a very serious religion and as an academic field of study. It's a special interest of mine as well.

My roommate and dear friend (21F) is a former Pentecostal Christian (something she's coming to terms with being a traumatizing experience for her). She's never had an issue with me practicing, I have a small altar in the living room, she doesn't mind celebrating my holidays with me. But lately, she's started asking a lot of questions about it, expressing an interest in exploring paganism for herself.

Now, I've tried not being judgmental, so far I've given her my impartial knowledge when she asks questions, but I'm starting to feel odd about it.

First of all, every time she's asked questions, I've given her further resources (youtube videos, books, podcasts, articles, everything) but she's never actually looked at them. I can tell. The next day she'll ask something small and inane that even skimming what I sent her earlier would have told her. It feels like she wants to just be spoon-fed exactly what to do and how to do it. I'm not an absolute authority either, this is a lot of weight to put on my shoulders.

I'm also worried because it she tends to pick up and drop hobbies very quickly and impulsively. (Hello to the huge pile of expensive yarn sitting behind our couch because she gave up knitting the second it got hard). She also seems to have super unrealistic expectations about what paganism involves, or even just non-Christian religions. She keeps asking about rules, no matter how many times I tell her that's not how it works, like she expects me to spring secret rules out of nowhere. She also seems to expect it to be a lot more dramatic than it is. She's shocked when I pray and it's a quiet affair, when I talk about gods and I don't hold them in utter reverence, when my rituals don't have shocking and extreme immediate results. It seems almost, sometimes, like she expects me to speak in tongues or be slain in the spirit.

Ultimately, I'm worried she's just going to pick up my very serious religion like it's a fun silly hobby and nothing more. I'm worried she'll be disappointed by it. And if she doesn't drop it immediately, I'm worried she's going to practice it like it's just another form of Christianity where she feigns dramatic results. (She used to pretend to speak in tongues as a kid, for context.) I want to gently steer her away, but I feel like maybe I'd be an asshole for stopping her exploration and like I might be a roadblock in an important step in healing from her religious trauma.

So... AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[rxqueenxgirl]

HOW ARE YOU PERCIEVED ? ♡ (detailed)

if you want a reading more in depth you can massage me on private or you can know more about my paid readings here!

take a deep breath and pick a pile!

pile 1: rx sun, rx five of swords, nine of swords, queen of wands, ten of pentacles, page of swords.

your friends perceive you as pessimist. there's something blocking your real happiness like stormy clouds block the sun, so it's hard for you to be radiant. you're not confident or powerful in their eyes, they often find you unrealistic due to your pessimism. to them, you're bored and always expecting failure.

your family perceives you as something they wished to fix. every family has its issues, but yours lived a war where everybody fought for their lives. you live in the middle of a conflict and they know it. they know you're tired. they want forgiveness, they want to reconcile, they want to fix what they broke. they have a constant resentment, they regret the position they gave you.

society perceives you as fulfilled. everybody has their social masks and yours is very convincing for how opposite it is from reality. you transmit the balance between strength and happiness. for those who don't know you yet, you seem warm and with a stable mindset. but sometimes they do see something strange behind, something that gives you the reason to have an almost perfect mask. you might think to yourself 'it's okay, it's okay, just pretend' in order to display a false confidence, because you don't want them to see what's really behind.

you perceive yourself as what's left after a nightmare. you feel like you're trapped in your own thoughts, you feel hopelessness towards yourself. you see yourself as a lost person, staying in the same state of suffering and negativity. the demands that are given to you leads you to this helplessness. you feel trapped in anxiety.

you want to be perceived as enough. you seek validation through your life, mostly in your career. you want people to look at you and see success. you want to exhale strength, so they can think you've been the strongest one, that has been through a lot in life but still got up and proved everybody that they were wrong. but you also want to be calm, you probably want to have your own place (maybe with a family) and live in constant peace.

in reality, you are the embodiment of adventure. you have so many potential, so many good energies within. you have amazing ideas for the future, you're just insecure about embracing that part of yours. you have an inner voice, like an inner child, wanting to be free of this tough energy you keep out of fear, and you need to follow it! don't repress the good things that remain in you, because you're extraordinary.

pile 2: nine of pentacles, rx star, three of wands, rx moon, eight of pentacles, knight of cups.

your friends perceive you as satisfied. they notice your self-control and emotional comfort, they think you're independent and know how to manage the things in your lifes, specially when it comes to finances. they know they can trust your intelligence, as you balance well your energies.

your family perceives you as unfaithful. you might come from a religious or spiritual family background. they think you've lost your hope on achieving the love that resides on this higher plan. all your happiness and comfort seems like a despair to them, like a mundane satisfaction. they wish to see you "healed" from your actual beliefs.

society perceives you as delusional. people often observe you as mysterious and mythical, they know you have a great balance in your energies and trust your own potential, and because of that they think you might be too ingenue to perceive the world around you. in reality, they don't understand how can someone have this courage to walk through the darkness. they don't understand your free spirit and wanderer nature. they want to be like you, but they can't and will never be able to be unless they risk to see more than the superficial.

you perceive yourself as frustrated. you know what you're capable of, but it brings you down when you can't get over the big obstacles in your plans, it makes you feel powerless. you tend to be perfectionist, and a not calculated thing can frustrate you to the point you question your whole path to where you're right now. failure can't be in your vocabulary, but neither does "enough".

you want to be perceived as helpless. you want someone to see your struggles and motivate you. you don't want to fall but at the same time you want people to be there if you fall and help you to get up. you're deemed to be the strongest soldier, if you fall nobody actually cares about it since you can look after yourself. you wish people saw you with more sensibility.

in reality, you are adventurous. you have the power to make anything happen only by putting your thoughts in your actions. you know your limits both mentally and physically, and nobody around you can use this strength better than you. don't let your frustrations consume you, this natural gift is not to be wasted.

pile 3: knight of cups, x of wands, the star, vii of cups, rx x of swords, viii of wands.

your friends perceive you as idealist. they know that when you want something you start to act immediately to get it. you're open-minded, they don't feel hesitant to share things with you. to them, you're someone fun to be around, you're spontaneous and always ready for a new adventure. they stereotype you as the social butterfly, the one striving to make everything around more relaxed.

your family perceive you as a big responsibility. sometimes you might feel like a burden to them, it happens because they are scared to lose control over you. they see you as a fragile bird wanting to fly out of their hands, they feel the duty to cage you. the thought that you can survive without them is threatening to their dignity. you are not their little girl/boy anymore and it gets them frustrated.

society perceives you as youthful. you have so many choices and dreams ahead of you, and people often get impressed of how you manage them in such simple way, it's almost as it's just a natural instinct because it was predestined to be like that. you don't necessarily come from a wealthy background, but you have enough tools to get into a great financial situation in future.

you perceive yourself as positive. you are in a tough position to rate yourself, so is safer to have faith on your healing process, which is more of developing a maturity you needed before. achieving this level of self-awareness is very important to you, the taste of control is better than you thought. you might look back and see your past self as ingenuous, but you don't actually hate them, you see them as an important element to that growth.

you want to be perceived as rejuvenated. you want everybody to recognize your hard work to move forward from the past defeat. people often see you're different, but they don't connect this to your effort. you feel like a little bit of recognition would help you in this situation, like a warm pet on the head reassuring you're doing a good work. you probably won't admit to anyone, but you want validation.

in reality, you are frustrated. you heal from your past actions, but you're enable to forgive yourself. the existence of obstacles in your way discourages you into continuing with perseverance. you feel like you're not doing enough and still immature, somehow not worthy of a bright future, but you need to have patience in moments like this... just rest! it's not going as well you thought? it's part of any journey.

[kalinq0]

In honor of school starting again and me realising how much I actually fucked my life by enrolling in a gymnasium instead of a normal highschool, here is what subjects i think the yugos would teach if they worked in a gymnasium:

1. Serbia- Sports: Its in his blood to make future athlets and champions, good at every sport exept soccer and still preffers the kids playing it over any other. He pretends to be good at it and to like it, but he is terrible at it and hates the fact he is worse then croatia. Those kids will need to pay for therapy after each class from all of the verball abuse, also will break a couple of bones from Serbia forcing them to do the same practices he did in the military

2. Slovenia- Logistics: This subject apears in the last year and thats mostly why I picked it, he doesnt like most of the kids and finds them annoying, tho here he will change students every year so theres no need to pretend he likes them when he doesnt even remember them. He is the only somewhat mentaly stable in the balkans, and needs a break from constant fighting and wars

3. Macedonia- Sociology: This subject is only in the 3rd and 4th year, here the students learn about different cultures, social groups and social roles. Macedonia is the only country that peacefully left Yugoslavia and it has every possible ethnic group in the balkans. The only problem is economics is a verry important part of this class and she cant even teach it to herself let alone other kids

4. Montenegro- Religion(orthodoxy): Doesnt teach anything, either lets them go outside or goes to the church right next to the school. Doesnt even know whats he doing there, but he has several prayer ropes(brojanice) and a cross necklace so in his mind he is as religious as he can be. Most likely drinks/smokes the same second the class is over. He falls asleep while "teaching" regulary. Most likely in church aswell but somehow hid it.

5. Bosnia and Herzegovina- Ethics: Yes I think both of them would teach this. Here almost like in sociology, social dillemas, issues of identity and community and cultular customs are taught. They are the only merried couple in the balkans, would be a great example especially with Srpska living with them also

6. Croatia- Music arts: Croatia has some of the best musicians in the balkans, he listens to everything when it comes to music, likes to sing and plays the piano. Would teach them war criminal and nationalistic songs

7. Srpska- History: Emagine telling your students you are the reason ww1 happened, aswell as many other balkan wars. Would get fired the next day for multiple reasons. At first I wanted to give him geography but he would just fight with the kids the hole class

8. Vojvodina- Psychology: She is so underrated omg, shes the one that needs therapy after living with vuk, tho instead of that she teaches it to other kids to both try to heal them and herself. The kids love her tho, shes chill and would let them do anything if they dont want to listen

[anki-of-beleriand]

A Heart Made of Glass ch.9

Summary: Ten years ago you left Wanda and the Avengers to heal your broken heart. You never stopped being a hero, just as you never stopped being in love with her. But life had to go on.

Now, after all that time, she is back and with her is a young woman needing help and an enemy that may not be as afraid as Wanda to lay a claim on you.

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Powered!F!Reader - Scarlet Witch x PoweredF!Reader - Past Wanda Maximoff x Vision - Powered!F!Reader x Carol Danvers

Warnings: Angst, drama, mentions of cheating, fluff, violence, smut, Switch!Reader, internalize homophobia, religious fanatisms, homopobia, hurt, comfort, Wanda being a complete mess, anger management issues, jealousy, Requited/Unrequited love, idiots in love, swearing, mentions of alcohol, violence, multiverse travelling. More tags as the story progess.

Author's Note: This story is a continuation of Dirty Little Secret I was really surprised at the response I got for the story, I did all the tags you guys ask for but if I forgot someone please do not hesitate to tell me. Thank you for the support.

I'm back!

And Carol Danvers is back as well. i'm sorry for the long delay, guys. But this chapter gave me some trouble before making some decisions as to where I wanted to take the story. I hope you like this new chapter, you will have action, flashbacks, and finally the worlds collide.

Remember that English is not my mother tongue so I apologise for the grammar, spelling and funny mistakes.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Epilogue

Chapter 9

The breaking of the storm

Three months ago – Stark Cabin - Fairburn, Georgia

It didn’t take her too long to locate the cabin.

She stood by the road for a very long time, debating with herself if it would be appropriated to approach the man living there. She was still wearing the clothes she wore to the funeral; the tears were still fresh on her face and the many memories in her mind were threatening to overwhelm her all over again.

The world had changed in the last five years she had been absent.

And yet, many things were still the same.

The service had been sweet, with a long sermon giving by an old priest that praised Steve for his courage and his life. Wanda had almost broken when the priest mentioned Bucky and how Steve’s love for him had made him stronger in the times of need. She listened as everything was revealed, as the lovers were uncovered in front of friends and family, and she realized right there and then everybody knew about it. And everybody accepted it, embraced it, and celebrated it.

“Sooner or later, Wanda, you will need to face the truth…than in all of this, it was you the only one that thought it inappropriate, that punished herself for something as pure as loving another human being.”

Steve’s words resounded inside her mind; Wanda had come to terms with what she couldn’t in her youth. Not only the mistakes of her past actions, but also to the thoughts she allowed herself to govern her decisions, in all reality, just as Steve had told her, her family would have never stopped loving her even if she chose another woman to be by her side. To be the love of her life, to marry and form a family with.

Times had certainly changed, and by the time Wanda had made a decision about her life and what she needed it to do, Thanos had come, and she had missed five years of her life. The sound of birds above her head broke her remembrance of another time; she shook her head and tried to step forward but was unable to do so.

Wanda Maximoff hesitated with her hands inside her pockets, the key to the old Avenger compound wrapped tightly around her hand. She chewed on her lower lip, turning around ready to leave until her eyes fell upon a young girl. She was no older than five years old, with auburn hair, and curious eyes she stood there glancing at Wanda while holding onto a metal glove that fit her small hand.

“Are you lost?” She asked, tilting her head, Morgan Stark took a step closer to the redhead while glancing left then right.

Wanda pressed her lips together shaking her head, “no, I’m not.”

Morgan furrowed her brows, her eyes narrowing slightly though her stance did not lose the easiness she carried with her. Wanda could see much of Stark in the young girl, there was intelligence behind her eyes and also a sense of confidence Wanda never possessed at her age.

“Then, what are you doing?” Morgan asked, this time around she pursed her lips pointing to the cabin. “Are you looking for daddy?”

Wanda sighed glancing down the road, her breath caught in her throat when her clear eyes fell upon the form of Tony Stark. The man was standing by the entrance of the cabin, his eyes completely focused on her and Morgan. With an uncomfortably shifted stance, Wanda glanced back to the girl that still had her eyes on her.

“Yes, I am.”

Morgan broke into an easy smile; she approached Wanda taking her hand in hers while dragging her all the way to the cabin.

“Silly, you can’t stay here. Daddy is having his afternoon tea.”

Tony Stark stood by the porch in his cabin, his heart had almost stopped the moment he realized Morgan had gone all the way to greet the strange newcomer only to realize this newcomer was no other than Wanda Maximoff. In his mind, five years had passed, but the old wounds as well as Wanda’s old transgressions were still fresh in Stark’s mind; he had not forgotten the moment she broke Y/N’s heart. Nor did he forget the fact Wanda sided with Steve when the world needed them the most; seeing her walking down the road with his daughter by her side only made him shiver in anticipation, his hand getting ready to access his armor if necessary.

“Wanda.” He couldn’t hide the coldness in his voice, the young woman winced trying to let go of Morgan’s hand but the young girl refused the gesture taking her past Tony.

“Come! Mommy brought some cupcakes and daddy has to eat his tea or he gets cranky.” Morgan turned to Tony, the innocence in her eyes didn’t allow her to notice the obvious tension between Wanda and Tony.

The man straightened up, his jaw clenching tightly while his eyes let Wanda know she was not welcomed. Wanda knew this, of course. She was risking a lot by reaching out to Tony, but in all honestly, he was her last option.

She didn’t have anyone else.

She was alone. Completely and utterly alone.

Tony dropped his shoulders placing a hand on Morgan’s head, before pointing with his head the house.

“Well, I guess we are stuck with one another for the time being.”

“You don’t have to…” Wanda started, but Tony shook his head.

“Morgan wants you here, come on.”

The house was like nothing Wanda remembered of Tony. There were many electronic devices and gadgets that Tony had adapted to his home, but otherwise this looked like a normal place. Nothing too fancy, and nothing too ostentatious. It was strange to set foot in a place that was not as extravagant as Tony had been once.

“I hope you two are…Wanda? What are you doing here?” Pepper stood by the hall with a tray filled with pastries and two white cups filled with tea.

Wanda offered a weak smile; her heart shrank at the incommodity this situation generated in her. She wished she had thought this through, but in reality, there was nothing she could do. She had been so lost at the funeral, she had been so devastated when she saw Y/N in the arms of another, when she realized after Steve’s death, she was alone.

“I’m sorry to come uninvited, Pepper.” She all but whispered. “I will be out of here in no time, I just…”

Pepper had been frowning at the young woman all this time, but something in her voice and her posture made Pepper softened slightly. She offered a motherly smile pointing to the love chair on the living room.

“Take a seat, Wanda, I will bring another cup of tea.”

Teatime went by uneventfully.

Morgan ended up filling up the silence with her stories, and the adults merely spoke whenever she spoke to them. Wanda couldn’t help the tension growing as the time passed, and the eyes of Tony kept on pinning her with anger and questions. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Pepper grabbed Morgan and left Tony and Wanda alone.

“You have some nerve coming in here, Wanda.” Tony finally commented leaning back on his chair. “I thought by now you would have left to get the normal life you have always wanted. Though, now that Vision is no longer alive, I guess you don’t have much from were to choose, am I right?”

Wanda winced at his honesty, she knew Tony and Natasha had been always advocates of Y/N and had always stood by her side after the incident. The young woman couldn’t help the tears pooling out her eyes, she swallowed down her sadness, trying to collect herself to start talking.

But she couldn’t.

“I…I…am sorry.” Wanda let down a whimper, her tears rolling down her eyes as the pain in her chest became unbearable. She stood on shaky legs, shaking her head while trying to make her way to the door. “I sh-shouldn’t…I will…I will leave…”

But as she said this, her heart crumbled and soon she was on the floor with Tony Stark wrapping his arms around her. Of all the people that she had gotten to know, Tony was the last one she ever thought would comfort her. They had such a troublesome past; she had hated him for so long only to develop respect and then a shaky form of friendship that had always been on the rocks for as long as they had fought on the side.

Now, Wanda couldn’t stop crying and Tony had acted out of instinct.

Wanda cried for herself, for the time she lost. For the things she had done, for Steve because he would no longer be there to comfort her and to be the family she had lost. For Y/N because she hated Wanda, and Wanda knew that regardless of her wrongdoings and her mistakes, she was still pretty much in love with her. Wanda cried because she let her old beliefs, and the words of sin and forbidden governed her decisions at some point.

Wanda cried because she was alone, and she had come to a world in which she was not welcome.

And then, when she thought nothing good could come of this meeting, she had the very same man she had always thought insufferable and narcissistic comforting her. Then a pair of small arms wrapped around her, and soon Wanda felt, for the very first time in a long time, the warmth of a family trying to pick up the pieces of her heart and lonely soul.

*****

Night had already fallen, and Morgan was already in bed by the time Wanda had stopped crying.

The warmth of the mug between her hands brough comfort to her cold chest, she glanced at the fire while trying to ease out her breathing and hearing Tony talk about what had happened after the Blip. She heard about his fight with Steve, how he had given his back to the Avengers to go and form a family with Pepper, how the world crumbled in the very first year before it started building itself.

Tony talked about Steve and Natasha, how they struggled to keep the team alive, to try and look for a solution while also helping the rest of the universe with the help of Rocket and Carol Danvers. He talked about Y/N, and Wanda couldn’t help the fluttering of her heart at the mention of Y/N and how she had been affected by the Blip, how she had met Carol and the bond had been formed.

“She missed you.” Pepper ignored the glare coming from Tony, her eyes were solely on Wanda who was looking back at her with a hopeful glint in her eyes. “Y/N was in a dark place after she saw you vanished into thin air.”

Wanda furrowed her brows at this, “she…she was there?”

Pepper and Tony nodded, and Wanda tried to remember that moment.

She knew you had arrived because your shadows had invaded the battlefield for a moment, but she never imagined you had gone and looked for her. Wanda never imagined Y/N had seen her disappear. Tony shifted on his chair pursing his lips while facing Wanda, his eyes demanding.

“She took it hard and was not the same for a while. Up until she and Carol started seeing one another.” Wanda winced at these words; she looked away trying to hide her pain, but Tony had already seen it. “What are you doing here, Wanda?”

Wanda glanced at the beverage in the mug, she thought about you for a long time. She thought about your voice and laughter, how happy you had seemed with the blond-haired woman back at the funeral. The young woman lifted her face, new tears rolling down her cheeks.

“I’m…I came here to ask for your permission.” She finally said, Tony blinked confusedly at her.

“Permission for what?”

“The…the Avengers compound.” Wanda mumbled. “I know it’s still active but empty and…I… I really don’t have a place to stay. I just…”

“You are alone.” Tony stated not without a tone of reproach in his tone. “This is your own doing, Wanda. I hope you know that.”

Wanda didn’t react at all, but her lips broke into a broken smile.

“I made so many mistakes, Tony.” Wanda all but whispered. “The only thing I did right was…was being with her.”

“And yet, you broke her heart in the worst possible way.” Tony replied, the old anger dripping from his words.

“I know.” Wanda placed a hand on her forehead, she had nothing to lose at the moment and her words came rushing in. Not to give an explanation, she didn’t think her actions have one, but she just needed to let everything out.

For the very first time, she would talk with all honestly to someone that wasn’t Steve.

“I was so afraid to give in, to allow myself to be seen with her.” Wanda hiccupped placing a hand on her mouth, tears rolling silently down her cheeks. “My mother…my father…They always talked to me about sin, I knew what I had always feel, what I am…was a sin. Papa found me once, and he…I never forgot his lesson. I knew I was wrong, and when I saw her and knew I couldn’t breathe without Y/n I just…I was failing papa and mama…you know?”

Wanda shook her head, a gasp leaving her lips while her hand closed tightly around her chest.

“I had failed them, they had died, and I had failed them…time and time again, I failed and then…” Wanda shrugged. “I fell in love with her and I just…I let my family die, I couldn’t…I couldn’t be happy, I shouldn’t…I should do what they wanted of me I just…”

Pepper softened her features, watching the confusion, the conflict running wildly through those green eyes. But Tony remained impassive, hearing everything without giving anything away.

“I just…I couldn’t let them down, them and Pietro and…god, Y/N was just…I was feeling so much…I realized I wanted to have her children, that I wanted…I wanted to leave my powers and…” Wanda suddenly looked desperate, lost, and hopeless. “I know I mess up, Tony, I’m not asking for your forgiveness...I just…I just need a home.”

Wanda broke at the very end; Tony lowered his gaze before settling his eyes on Pepper. For the very first time, Tony wondered what would have happened if Pepper had given up on him. How many times had she discovered him with another woman, how many times she had seen him flirt his way through the parties before he realized that Pepper was all he needed. Y/N had been hurt deeply by Wanda, it was quite evident Wanda didn’t know the extent of Y/N’s feelings for her or what she was ready to do for Wanda.

And yet, Wanda was ready to do the same, but her mind was being tormented by old believes, and the fear of failing her family. The fear of falling into sin, of being less than what was expected of her.

“I know I’m going to pay my whole life for my mistakes, Tony. I know she…” Wanda wrapped her hands tightly around the mug, lowering her gaze she continued with a shaky voice. “I have broken everything that was good for me, and I deserve to be alone. I just…I’m tired.”

Tony stood up making his way to where Wanda was sitting, he knelt down placing a single hand on hers. His face was solemn, and for the very first time he allowed himself to see Wanda the way she was. A young woman lost, not knowing what to do or what road to follow, someone who wanted to be loved, but that didn’t want to fail those she loved anymore.

Ten years were a long time for him to keep a grudge, and for Wanda to still being put down and being ripped from what she really wanted.

“You can stay here tonight, Wanda.” Tony squeezed her hand comfortingly. “You have a home here, and we can talk more tomorrow. The compound is yours if you want to, but for now let me take you to your room. You must be really tired.”

Wanda wrapped her arms around Tony, a small weight lifted from her heart, and a huge void in her soul filled by the affection she felt for the man hugging her tightly. After that day, Wanda would spend five more days in Tony’s home, and she would cry while trying to let out everything she had kept for herself.

The morning of the fifth day was sunny and filled with a warm breeze.

Morgan was checking out the car Tony had given Wanda, while Wanda was trying to reject the gift. Tony shook his head placing the keys in the young woman’s hand, his eyes gleaming warmly while he also extended a mobile.

“You will find my number in there. But…” Here Tony trailed off before speaking again. “You will find Y/N’s number and location.”

Wanda opened her eyes wide, her hand trembling at this revelation. Her lower lip quivered, and she was left speechless for a moment.

“I don’t think…”

“You told me you wanted to talk to her, to mend things, didn’t you?”

“Y-yes, I did but…”

“Or, were you pretending to be interested in patching things up with Y/N?”

“No, no Tony I do but…” Here Wanda trailed off glancing at the phone with trepidation. “She hates me. She…she really despises me.”

“She does.” Tony stated shrugging. “But you don’t.”

Wanda lowered her gaze, her cheeks burning in embarrassment.

“Now, I understand many things, Wanda, and it is time for Y/N to know them as well.”

Wanda shook her head, the fear of a confrontation with you was something that haunted her sleep. There was nothing else she wanted more than to go back to you, but she knew she was late. She was always too late.

Tony closed his hands around hers, the items firmly placed in her hand.

“Talk to her. Perhaps, it won’t be what you want, but being friends could be a start.” Tony then offered a smile, nodding to the car. “Go, get settle, and when you have decided, just call and the ticket to her home would be ready for you.”

Wanda threw herself at Tony, and this gesture caught the older man by surprised. But he returned the hug, and he realized that having a family, having Morgan had changed his vision of the world. And now, he didn’t want Wanda to go around suffering needlessly.

“Don’t wait to long, Little Witch.” He whispered choosing Y/N’s nickname for her. “Go and chase happiness, you will always have a home here.”

“Thank you, Tony.”

Wanda left the place with a lighter heart, and hope in her heart. She glanced at the phone on the passenger’s seat with titillation growing in her abdomen and spreading to her chest.

Perhaps…

Wanda swallowed down and dared not to hope. First things first, she would go to the compound and after that…after that you would look for Y/N. This time around, she was ready to do everything she could to redeem herself and have a chance with Y/N; Wanda drove down the road never noticing the eyes sneaking in the reflection or the purple mist engulfing her mind.

_____________________________________________________________

Present day – Former Avenger’s Tower - New York

The place had never been this packed ever since Loki came crashing down with the Chitauri on his attempt to conquer earth. Tony served some of the drinks, his eyes going over an over to the impatient form of one Carol Danvers, the woman hadn’t stopped looking at her watch and her mobile ever since they got in there with Monica Rambeau.

Natasha grabbed two glasses, winking at Tony who merely snorted while observing the interaction. Carol turned sharply to Natasha, her lips curling lightly into a smile while she received the glass of whiskey she was being offered.

“So, how did you find earth so far?” Natasha was not one to make small talk, and Tony had a feeling he knew why exactly the Black Widow was trying to stall the other woman’s stay in the tower.

You and Wanda were finally left alone to have the long-awaited conversation you deserved to have with one another. Tony then took the other glass walking towards Strange who had dropped on the nearest sofa, with a hand covering his face.

Carol took a sip from the beverage, glancing down to her mobile then back up to a smirking Natasha. The young woman hated the fact Natasha had the knowing glint in her eyes.

“So, are you in a rush?” Carol rolled her eyes at the questions, her lips breaking into an easy smile shaking her head.

“I am.” Carol sighed glancing at Natasha with expectation. “How is she?”

Natasha held Carol’s stare for a moment before shrugging, “she is fine, right now all of us are dealing with the current crisis trying to help America and find a solution.”

Carol clenched her hand around the glass, Natasha heard the cracking sound of the glass though Carol was trying to apply all her self-restrained as to not break the glass. By now, she already knew you were not alone, and that America had gone to you for help with no other than Wanda Maximoff. Carol would be lying if she didn’t admit a part of her was highly jealous of this meeting, she knew as well as everyone else that your love for the red-head witch was something still latent in your heart.

A wave of sudden sadness and uncertainty reached Carol, and the woman jerked away when another hand placed itself on her forearm. Natasha offered the comfort of a single smile, her eyes gleaming with sympathy and understanding.

“Don’t worry, this meeting won’t take long and you will have a chance to go right to her without waiting for me or the Quinjet.” There was a teasing tone in Natasha’s voice, Carol tried to relax but her mind was full of uncertainties, and her heart was aching to see you.

“I know…and I know this is important.” Here she made a face turning her attention to Monica then to Strange. “It seems Maximoff has created a huge trouble, and as always some of us are here cleaning up her mess, right?”

Natasha pursed her lips at this declaration, “It’s not her fault, not completely.”

“I’m not so sure about that.” This time around Strange was the one to talk, he straightened up his back, all eyes of the presents were on him.

The man was looking terrible, with bags under his eyes and the clothes completely messed, it seemed as if he hadn’t sleep for weeks. He probably hadn’t. Tony sat down nodding towards Stephen, glancing at the group before emptying the glass in a single gulp.

“Okay, then, start talking Strange, we’re delaying the space princess over there, and I don’t think she has more patience for this.”

Carol rolled her eyes looking away to try and hide her red cheeks, Natasha chuckled, squeezing her forearm tenderly before joining Tony and Monica. Carol glanced at her forearm before she too joined them with the same trepidation she had been feeling from the very beginning.

“As far as we could find with Wong, Wanda and this woman…Agatha were in possession of the Darkhold.” Strange spoke waving his hands, some of this they already knew but his explanation had to start there. “As I explained to you before, this book is highly dangerous, containing spells that could granted destructive powers to whomever gets a hold of it. One of such spells is called dream walking.”

Tony pursed his lips leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

“You told us this book was missing, alongside the woman Wanda was supposed to trap in the real Westview, right?”

“She didn’t do a very good job, did she?” This time around it was Carol the one to speak, the woman sat down pinning Strange with her eyes. “So, this dream walking ability, what does it do, exactly?”

Strange didn’t know how to explain the technique, he knew as soon as he started talking about it many of them would jump to the same conclusion he did. Though, his own theory still had many holes that he wasn’t sure how to fill in; he let out a heavy sigh hoping once Wong was back, he would have more answers.

“Basically, it is a technique that allows its user to use their counterpart across the multiverse. They can possess their other variants but…” Stephen scratched the back of his head, his eyes focused on every single one of the presents before they settled on Natasha. “The stronger the sorcerer or the witch, the stronger the spell, they can maintain it for a long time, and they are capable of creating the very same creatures that had been chasing America through the multiverse.”

“You are thinking about someone, aren’t you?” Carol crossed her arms shaking her head. “You think it’s Maximoff?”

Natasha shook her head, her hand waving away at this while she glared at the blond.

“Wait a second, Wanda made many mistakes in the past, but this is on a whole new level…”

“I agree with Romanoff.” Tony stated glaring at Carol. “Wanda may have made many mistakes, but this particular case we are talking about murdering to get to an innocent kid…”

“She created and slaved a whole town, I mean…” Carol said shrugging, she turned to Strange nodding. “Besides, I don’t see Strange fighting much my affirmation.”

Everyone turned to Stephen who was looking at some point on the floor, the man sighed lifting his face nodding.

“That’s my theory, actually.” Stephen lifted a hand to stop any arguments, he locked eyes with Tony trying to appear as the voice of reason. “However, I do agree with you. This Wanda, our Wanda has gone through so much…I don’t think it is her, perse.”

Monica furrowed her brows tilting her head, “what exactly do you mean with our Wanda? You mean…”

“I think it may be another version of her.” Stephen stated firmly.

Everyone jumped startled when a glass fell to the ground, Natasha opened her eyes wide turning to Stephen. She was paled, as if all of a sudden, she saw a ghost.

“Dream walking…is it possible…is it possible that they can show themselves in dreams to other people?” Natasha asked. “It is possible for them to…make physical damage through the dreams?”

Stephen opened his eyes at this, he stood up rather fast striding towards Natasha while placing his hands on the Widow’s shoulders.

“What exactly has happened, Romanoff?”

Natasha felt her world turned around, dizziness overcome her as she remember you telling her about your dreams. The hickey…the scratches… and right there and then, Natasha knew you were in trouble. Carol observed the scene and went from Natasha to Stephen and then back, she clenched her jaw understanding without any more words what was happening. She turned around and went right through the window without hearing the screams from Monica and Natasha for her to stop.

Carol would not wait. You were in danger, and she was not about to let anyone harm you. Much less Wanda Maximoff.

______________________________________________________________

The city of Ulsteinvik was filled with snow and wintery activities that include Winter festival in which the shipyard became the main attraction.

School was over for the day, and many had been invited over to the main festivities that would welcome the weekend. America was bouncing reluctantly around her classmates, her eyes drifting to where you were standing near the car with Vera and other teachers around. She put the jacket around herself, her eyes drifting around until they fell on Wanda; the young woman was strolling down the streets watching everything in awe while trying to locate America and Y/N.

“Hey, America, are you coming?” America turned around to see one of her classmates calling to her, she hesitated nodding pointing in the general direction.

“I will, give me five!”

Wanda smiled at the approaching figure of America; she observed as the teen waved her friends before making her way towards her. America was smiling, her face beaming with emotion at being part of something as mundane as a festival, but also knowing this was the chance she was looking for. The last two days, you and Wanda had been civil around one another, and little by little you had been lowering your defenses to try and get closer to Wanda.

Everything was going according to plan.

“Hey, Wands!” America wrapped her arms tightly around the redhead, Wanda offered a tiny smile fixing America’s hair while pointing to the group of teens waiting at the other end of the street.

“Aren’t you embarrassed to be showing such affection towards me?” The comment was meant to be a joke, Wand didn’t pretend to be nothing else but an acquaintance of America.

The young woman crunched up her nose shaking her head, “Never, Wands you are like…I…you are family.”

Both shifted awkwardly, the conversation dying for a moment until both of you heard your laughter. Vera was rubbing your arm, laughing at something someone else had said; America scowled at her closeness, and she could see that Wanda was not happy with it either. The young woman took that moment to call upon you, making sure everyone turned to see her and Wanda waiting.

“Y/N!! We’re here!” Wanda opened her eyes wide; she saw the glint of mischief in America’s eyes but before she could say something you had already gotten there, your lips breaking into an easy smile.

“Hey, kiddo, ready for the festival?” You passed your arm around her shoulders, America nodded grabbing Wanda’s hand and putting her closer to you.

For a brief moment, America could sense the tension around the three of you. Wanda was almost touching your arms, and you were close enough to see her clear, green eyes gleaming warmly at you. Something inside your heart shifted, and you knew glancing at those eyes was dangerous.

“I am, but I just…” America trailed off looking back at her friends. “I mean, Wanda came over and Kathe and the others are waiting…”

The breeze went pass you brushing your heated skin for a moment, you shot America a quick glance trying to gauge her real intensions but not seeing anything beyond her eagerness to be a part of the festival. Wanda was holding her breath; her whole body was hurting due to the tension she was putting on her posture.

“Go on, I take care of Wanda.” You finally replied, the words of Natasha running around your mind as you realized this could be a chance to have that conversation you have been avoiding the last couple of days.

“Good, you guys are awesome!” She hugged the both of you at the same time before walking back waving. “See you in few!”

A long uncomfortable silence filled the space left by America.

You stood there feeling a pair of eyes on the back of your neck, and you were pretty sure Wanda and Vera had their attention on you. The last couple of days had been strange, to say the least. Wanda, America, and you had been left alone with a great house and a feeling of familiarity you hadn’t felt in a long time. The last conversation you had with Natasha and Yelena had been dancing around your mind ever since they left, and the intensity of those conversations only increased whenever you were alone with Wanda.

And she had been in your mind at all times.

Even when you were dreaming.

The conversation you knew the both of you needed to have had been postponed mainly because you were a coward. And you didn’t want to fall all over again in the same pattern with Wanda, this time around you needed to let everything out and make sure Wanda understood how badly she had messed up.

“You don’t have to, you know?” Wanda broke the silence, her eyes downcast and her posture showing the defeat she had been feeling as of late. “I…I understand and you don’t…I know you don’t want to…”

Wanda shook her head, thinking herself and idiot for thinking perhaps you would want to talk to her, that perhaps this day was what they needed to start building a shaky friendship. But of course, your resentment was strong, and Wanda could not pretend to have the conversation she was dying to have with you to happen anytime soon.

The young witch was turning around ready to stroll around the city before going home when a warm hand wrapped around her wrist. She stopped death on her tracks, turning to face you and finding uncertainty in your eyes.

“Where are you going?” You furrowed your brows, uncertainty filling your mind. You were hoping to break the huge wall that was between you and Wanda, to try and lower your defense and start the process of forgiveness.

To finally hear the advice from Tony, Natasha and even Yelena.

“I…I just thought…” Wanda tried to speak but she had distracted herself with your hand holding her wrist, your eyes glancing at her intently. “I just thought I…walk around the city, you can…I know you must be busy.”

This kind of thing used to be easier.

You remembered all those times in which you would merely whisper a plan, and Wanda was dragging you around to comply with them. Now, everything was uncertain, and your mind kept on playing the treason but also the moments in which Wanda had been hurt, lost…miserable.  You took a deep breath, taking a step closer to her, you let go of her hand and made sure she was listening to you.

“I would like to talk to you, I think this is a long overdue conversation between you and me.” You mumbled shrugging. “But, I don’t want to make you do something you don’t want to…”

“I do!” Wanda blushed at the abruptness of her answer, she almost fell on her face while trying to hold her emotions.

You couldn’t help but snicker, Wanda wincing before nodding briefly.

“Yes, I think…we…we need to talk.”

“Good then, now that we’re on the same page I know a place you may like, wanna come?” You offered a single smile, that Wanda returned tentatively.

You were very conscious of the growing tension between Wanda and yourself.

It was something you had been living with in the last couple of months since the witch returned to your life. It was almost impossible not to experience it after the myriad of emotions going through your system whenever you thought of Wanda Maximoff.

Now that the both of you were finally alone by circumstances, more so than by election, and the conversation you and her never have was something quite inevitable right now.  The streets of Ulsteinvik were filled with people all making their way to the harbor and the shipyard, the conversation in a mixture of Norwegian and English made a cacophony of sounds that surrounded Wanda distracted her from her current situation, her mind had been a pool of thoughts and emotions she had been too scare to face but now that she had the possibility, she wasn’t sure how to approach.

Her eyes fell upon your figure, the confidence with which you strolled down the streets made her falter. A tingle filled with anticipation started growing on her stomach, and it spread out to her chest and limbs; Wanda was trying to organize her thoughts, to think on what to say…she thought she was prepared for this confrontation but, as you guide her inside a café and requested for something warm while sitting in front of her she realized, she was not ready.

“You mingled with the people around here quite well.” Wanda commented lightly, lowering her gaze to the table while wiggling her hands. “You have been living here for a long time, right?”

You pursed your lips nodding curtly, if Wanda was nervous about this conversation, you were ready to explode from anxiety this brought to you. Right there was Wanda, as you had always imagined her. Her long hair falling in waves around her shoulders and back, her deep green eyes gleaming with uncertainty and shyness like that very first meeting in which you bowed to love her. How many years had passed since then? How many wounds? How many treasons?

The waitress offered a kind smile while placing the cups on the table.

The warmness of the liquid brushed your mouth, and helped you distract yourself from the inevitable. Wanda played with a napkin, her gestures revealing the same nervousness you had been hiding ever since she got to your place.

“I have been living here for seven years.” You finally revealed leaning back on the chair, your eyes wandering around refusing to look at the woman sitting in front of you. “This place was refreshing for me, a new beginning.”

Wanda chewed on her lower lip, her trembling hands grabbing the porcelain cup warming up her sweaty palms.

“Can I…” She hesitated lifting her face only to see your eyes on her, you nodded curtly raising a single eyebrow at her. Wanda shivered before asking her question. “Can I know what you did before coming here?”

Wanda had never heard of you after you left the Avengers’ compound, you had disappeared and no one, not even Natasha, was able to provide any news about your whereabouts. You tensed lightly remembering those dark times in your life, the traveling through the shadows and accepting random jobs to get some money and make yourself forget the pain of your broken heart.

You rested your hands on the table, knitting your brows together you pursed your lips thinking about an answer. Your whole body ignited when her hand placed itself on yours, and her eyes were showing regret and begging for you to forgive her.

“You don’t…you don’t have to tell me, I just…” Wanda sighed squeezing your hand tenderly. “I was just curious.”

“I was in a dark place, Wanda.” The sound of the customers filling out the café made this conversation a private one, Wanda went rigid at these words.

Your eyes fell on your hands still wrapped comfortingly under hers, your heart was beating fast and a part of you wished you weren’t in love with her anymore. That your heart had healed enough for the woman sitting in front of you to not affect you the way she was doing at the moment.

“I’m sorry.” Wanda whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks, her words carrying with them the weight of your history with her.

You shrugged bitterly, taking your hand away from her while drinking your coffee.

“It doesn’t matter, I was hurt and lost and I just need a way to vent over my frustrations and my pain.”

“Y/N…” Wanda started but now that you had spoken it was impossible for you to stop.

You clenched your eyes closed, before making sure Wanda was hearing everything you had to say. Everything you had always wanted to say to her.

“I was broken, Wanda, I…travel around trying to harm myself, to make my physical pain greater than my emotional one.” You let out a snort looking out of the window. “I didn’t make it, and I grew tired…that was when I let Natasha find me.”

Wanda heard as you told her everything you had done, and a part of her felt grateful for this. It was the very first time she had accessed you, in a way she had lost after that day. You told her about your misgivings, about your findings, how you came to Norway and ended up being a double agent for Tony and Steve. You told her about your falling out with Steve when the man tried to make you find reason and confront Wanda.

“Then, a few months ago I received some tapes…” You shrugged, tired and suddenly lighter, “Westview…my anger and resentment were back and now…I can’t keep living my life hating you, Wanda. I can’t live my life with resentments and without daring to look at you. Not anymore.”

Wanda wrapped her arms around herself, she didn’t know what to say or how to react to your story. The side of the story she had always been curious about, but no one was ready to reveal to her. She heard about your lovers, and her heart broke into a million pieces knowing you had found comfort in other’s arms. She knew she didn’t deserve your forgiveness, the knowledge of you forgetting about her little by little brought pain she had been experiencing all her life.

“It was never my intention to hurt you, Y/N.” She all but whispered, you snorted shrugging once more. Your lips broke into a bitter smile while your eyes shone with unshed tears.

“We can’t help who we fall in love with, right?” You replied in a broken tone, Wanda scrunched up her nose ready to be honest with you for the very first time in a long time.

“I wasn’t in love with Vision.” Wanda noticed the shredded napkin on her hands, her heart was beating painfully hard against her ribcage while she made herself look at you.

Your back and shoulders were hurting for all the tension you were putting in them, this revelation was something you were not expecting. Your eyes finally looked with those of Wanda, and for a brief moment you saw red swirling around her green irises. The dreams that had been plaguing your for a long time coming in several images, Wanda and Scarlet mixing up just as you heard her voice.

Mine. Only mine.

As much as I have always been yours, my love.

“You have a funny way to show you are not in love with him.” You broke the spell shaking your head, frowning while clenching your fists. “You slept with him, and then you spend your time travelling with him, that and let’s not forget Westview and the happy family you had there.”

Anger was far easier than any other emotion, you clenched your jaw watching as Wanda broke in front of you. So much different than Scarlet, and yet…

“I was never in love with him. I was just…a coward. I was afraid.” She mumbled, her head pulsating painfully. Sparks of red appearing on her fingertips, and the blackness she had come to associate with her blackouts flickering in and out of her fingers as she spoke.

“You’re telling me you…you cheated on me with someone you didn’t even love?” You clenched your jaw putting money out of your pocket and leaving it on the table.

Wanda watched as you stood up and left, she hesitated, the pain inside her head almost unbearable a tug on her abdomen making her stand up and follow you.

“I…yes! Yes! I…god, Y/N, I was afraid and I was confused and I just…” Wanda followed you speaking louder, she didn’t realize she was crying until the cold winter wind touch her face. “I didn’t know…It went against everything I had been taught and my parents…my brother…I thought…”

“I was in love with you, Wanda!” You turned around screaming at the top of your lungs. “ I had the ring, and the house…I even had the names of our children…”

“I know…I found them in the compound, I just…” And Wanda felt the pulsating pain in her head mixing up with her thoughts. Scarlet tried to push the other woman away, tried to tell you that the children were yours…that she had seen it all and that she had created the world for you and her, but at some point, her counterpart, this Wanda had messed up.

The people walking down the streets all turned to look at you and Wanda, the both of you were close enough to touch one another yet it was quite evident there was a distance neither one of you knew how to close.  Wanda winced hugging herself tightly, she opened her mouth and closed, the push inside her chest breaking her resolution and her eyes gleamed red for a brief moment until you finally saw it.

One red.

One green.

Her voice, their voices…sounding like one.

“I have lost everything, Y/N. I lost my parents, and I lost myself in hatred and revenge, I gave myself to be an experiment, and then I lost Pietro.” Wanda spoke with a broken voice, she shook her head trying to tell you how she felt. “I could never tell you…you were such…god, you were such a powerful force that made me feel I could do anything, I could be anyone…but then…they started talking about the reconstruction of Sokovia, and Tony brought my parents to be buried alongside Pietro.”

You were trembling in rage and helplessness, Wanda talking about her upbringing. She talked about her mother’s teachings, the church’s teachings and what was expected of her. Wanda spoke about the fears she was not brave enough to tell you for fear of your rejection. She spoke of her papa, and how he had taught her a lesson at some point when she showed her attraction for another woman. The confusion she felt when Vision approached her with a speech about logic, biology and philosophy, about the wrongness of what she was feeling, but also about the nature behind experimenting.

“I couldn’t I just…I didn’t…” Wanda almost felt on her knees, but you were faster than her. She rested against your body, crying with tension building around her body refusing to return your embrace. And in all of this you saw them, Wanda and Scarlet, and your fears and suspicions were clarified at that moment.

They were one and the same, yet two different entities.

“I’m sorry, I never…you…I don’t know why Westview…but they are yours…just yours…” Wanda was crying now trying to get away from you. “I just messed up…I…I’m so broken I just…”

Your heart broke at the sight.

It didn’t justify her, and in all honestly the conversation had not been clear enough. But a part of you, the one that had been running in fear for what you were and who you are, understood.

“I’m sorry.” Wanda repeated over and over, and you put her tighter against yourself.

“It’s…It’s okay.” You mumbled placing a comforting kiss on her head. “It’s okay, Wanda.”

“I can’t…I couldn’t…” Wanda cried softly, and Scarlet pushed through what Wanda had to say all along. “I love you…I…never…I never stop and you…”

Scarlet stirred inside Wanda; she was so close.

It was the right time to make her move. Scarlet was finally at her breaking point, your warmness and your words, the feeling of your skin and your kisses. It was time to get rid of Wanda and for her to come forth. America was around the city and Natasha and Yelena were no longer there.

This time around, the spell would be successful, and Billy and Tommy would be back. And no one would dare to intervene.

“N-No…N-no, please, not…not again…” Wanda screamed in pain, and just as Scarlet was ready to come forth, the humming sound of a flying object approaching broke into the sky.

You tensed.

That humming was familiar, and the hairs at the back of your neck stood up at the energy surrounding such an individual.

You were so distracted you never noticed when the green eyes were lost replaced by the crimson of Scarlet. When you lowered your gaze, the woman was smiling at you, this time around she was not afraid to wrap her arms around you.

“You are mine, detka. Finally.”

“Get your hands away from her, Maximoff!” The golden blast almost made you falter, but your shadows and Scarlet’s reflex were enough to prevent the blast for harming any of you.

Carol Danvers landed with a heavy step, the blasting of energy coming out to put Wanda away from you. The shadows engulfed you separating you from Wanda, while at the same time protecting the redhead form any harms.

“You!” Scarlet growled out, her hands wriggling around with a red mist, while her fingertips started taking in a black colouring. “I won’t let you take her away from me!”

Carol advanced ready to fight the other woman, you opened your eyes wide.

Scarlet wasn’t the only one there.

The red mixed up with purple, and the sky started igniting with runes you had never seen before. The world started trembling, and the smirk Scarlet was wearing told you she was the one working on her magic.

“Carol, wait!” You approached both women, Carol hesitated turning to you with a concern frown when she noticed the blood on your forehead.

“Y/N…” She whispered turning to you, “Strange told us he thinks it is her…”

“I know.” You replied running to the blond woman, Scarlet clenched her jaw refusing to see as Carol’s hand went to your forehead cleaning up the blood in there.

“You knew?” Carol scowled turning her golden eyes to Wanda.

“You won’t have her, Y/N is mine and no one will get in the way.”

At that moment several things happened.

Carol decided to attack Scarlet without hearing your screams of warning, your powers igniting to try and prevent an ever-bigger incident when Scarlet exploded in a bubbled of red mist while the sky above your heads went purple and the runes shone with energy.

Everything around you went black and then, all of a sudden you knew no more.

______________________________________________________________

You heard the beeping of the machines breaking into your unconscious state.

Your body shivered, and this only made you aware of the deep pain you were experimenting. You opened your mouth, for a minute it took all your energy to get out the simplest of moans charged with pure pain. You tried to remember what had happened, what you did and what exactly did Scarlet and Carol did to put you in such a state.

Your eyelids were heavy, but you tried to open your eyes to see exactly where you were at.

Another moan, this one firmer. Your eyes fluttered open, and you had to blink a couple of times due to the intensity of the light.

“MOMMA!”

“MOM!”

Whatever pain you were experimenting, whatever reluctance you had in regards to opening your eyes completely were soon forgotten when you heard those voices. Two boys voices.

You sat up sharply, this time around a scream of pain left your lips, but your eyes were seeing blurry trying to focus on the two figures standing by your bed. Their little hands grabbing yours, and as you blinked away you started focusing them.

“Momma, momma you’re alive!” One of them said hugging you tightly.

You blinked trying to get away, looking around desperately until you saw her.

Wanda Maximoff standing by the door, heavy bags under her puffy eyes. The tears still fresh and she came right at you closing the space in between you and her, her lips soft and tender against yours. For a brief moment you forgot about everything, your head tilting to deepen the kiss, to get reacquainted with Wanda’s taste. The softness of her lips, the warmness of her body…god you missed kissing her.

“God, detka I though…” She whispered smiling soppily when the twins made gagging sounds at the display of affection.

Wanda smiled at you leaning in to get another kiss, but you backed away almost falling from the bed finally registering what was happening. What you had done moments ago and what the woman in front of you was trying to do.

“What the fuck did you do, Scarlet?!! Where am I?! Where is Carol?”

Wanda stood right away, her hands spreading out protectively in front of the twins. She furrowed her brows tilting her head at you.

“Y/N?” She asked tentatively, you were about to speak but a wave of nausea came right at you.

“What’s…what’s going on?” You asked just before falling unconscious on the bed.

Wanda stood there for a moment, Billy pulling at her hand while glancing at your unconscious form.

“Mom, is momma okay?”

“Yes, dear, she is just…” Wanda trailed off turning to the boys. “Momma hurt herself really bad. Go find uncle Steve and Uncle Pietro.”

Tommy and Billy hesitated but then they nodded and left.

Wanda turned to you stepping closer, her hand placing itself on your forehead, while her eyes gleamed red. She hated to do this, it was an unspoken rule for her to never enter the heads of her friends and family. But your reaction, your questions…and what had happened with Strange’s death and the disappearance of America was enough for her to do this.

“I’m sorry my love, I promise you I won’t look beyond what I need to see.” She leaned in placing a kiss on your forehead, reading inside your mind until a whimper left her mouth. She opened her eyes big, stepping back just on time for Steve and Pietro to show at the door.

“Wanda?” Steve asked tentatively, Wanda turned to him nodding.

“I found America, and she…she is not my wife.” Wanda then wrapped her arms around her boys looking back at you then at Steve. “We are in serious trouble.”

______________________________________________________________

Tag List:

@username23345 - @wandanats-goodgirl - @catswag22 - @imadethisblogbecauseiamasimp - @marvelogic - @dumpaccdontmindme - @nikkinss - @reereeineedtopee - @kaisenblog - @your-internet-adviser - @dark-hunter16 - @wandabear - @justyourwritter69 - @wandasmarley - @imthenatynat - @bisexualnoodle - @trikruismybitch - @fxckmiupup- @justafoolinlove - @teenybean - @haunt626 - @itshouldvebeenme30 - @wandasmarley - @lonewalker17 - @alwaysgoodnight - @wandsmxmff - @iliketozoneout - @kacka84 - @get-the-fuck-outta-here - @charl-lally - @sadiesgf69 - @fanboy7794 - @yenmaximoff - @yenmaximoff - @the-mute1 - @the-mute1 - @when-wolves-howl - @mroyalll -@justhereformemes12345-blog - @justhereformemes12345-blog -@paaandiculations - @anaaam - @bibliophilicbi - @princess-kennys-rats - @danicarpediem - @iliketozoneout - @oh-thats-cute - @screechcat - @sheriffhaughtearp - @romanoffomixam - ohboiiitsbritneeeeey - @marveloussimp - @g-athenaathens - @mousecakez - cowboyboots236 - weird-shit-i-see-and-enjoy - esposadejoyhuerta - marvelogic

Please, tell me if I forgot anyone.

[exvangelical-christian-nerd]

TW Religion

Look I understand why religious people take offense to Good Omens, the Hellaverse, and that type of media (I've made posts on this before, about how the church kinda made their own bed, and I stand by that). I'm religious. I'm a practicing Christian. There are things in the shows that bother me a bit at times. There are parts of the fandom that I think go too far, but that happens in every single fandom. I think many of us who've been in any fandom for a bit can think of an example where someone just took something way to far. I mean there are multiple stories out there, to the point you sometimes see jokes about it, where someone went from fan to felon pretty dang quick. Or cases where a group of fans got more than a bit culty. The difference with the Hellaverse specifically, is, I believe, that if you take it to far you can start messing with very real demons, who are not the same as the ones in the show, and I don't want to touch that.

Now all that said, the fact that I am religious is a key contributor in why I love this kinda of media, and why I gravitate to it. I like things that bother me, at least things that bother me theologically. I really like things that make me question my faith, or components of it. Also, if I haven't made this crystal clear, the church has caused me a great deal of pain, and continues to do so. I have a lot of religious trauma to work through, and it can be really hard, because I often feel really alone. Most people with religious trauma leave the religion in question. I'm still here. I have to grapple, almost daily, with separating my hurt from my faith, and separating what I was taught from what I actually believe. I'm exvangelical, but I'm still a church going, bible believing Christian, and y'all that's a special kind of hell. It hurts, a lot. Sometimes to the point where it makes me physically ill. People I love and respect, continue to say things knowingly or unknowingly that cut like a knife. And How many times can you get stabbed? How long? How long must I hurt?

These shows help me process. They help me look at things from another perspective and go "do I believe that? And if I do, why?" Also sometimes they call me out, and that's never fun... but it can be important. But one of the big ones is that it gives me a chance to process my hurt with the symbolism of my childhood. It's healing.

I latched onto Emily, because I see myself in her. I see someone who believed, and had the rug pulled out from under them. I see someone, who still believes, but feels betrayed. Someone who now has to confront and question, because "if this was a lie what else is?" And "I trusted this person and this is what they did?" And possibly worst of all, "I helped enable this. I allowed this to happen. I might not have known, but I still helped. What have I done?" I know those feelings. I live them every single day.

I understand Aziraphale's choice to go running back to heaven (whether I like that choice or not, and I don't). It looked like they would accept him as he was, even accept those he loves. He sees an opportunity to change things for the better, in this system he knows, and cares about even. It's not going to go well. We know it's not, and I think even Aziraphale knows that, but that need to believe it can change, that you change it, yeah I get it. I really do.

I understand Sera's desperation to protect. I remember feeling St. Peter's aversion. The desperate bargaining we've seen from the cherubs trying to convince themselves what they're doing is right, or at least not wrong, I've done it. I see myself in Vaggie, trying to mend the damage she did. I was an armored gay. I know I too caused harm. Lucifer's abandonment issues and desire to just leave it all behind him or try to. It's all to real. And Crowley's disillusionment with everything? His belief that he is "on his own side", because where else could he possibly go? Yeah I get that too.

And I could go on

And on

And on

[sadkachow]

And Then It Is Monday - Why Sunday's plan did not (and could not) work

So normally I don't really make longer analysis posts, but I kept seeing people on social media outright supporting Sunday's actions in 2.2, and I wrote something out about why I personally think that Sunday's plan is wrong. I don't know if this is an issue with tumblr as well, given that the people I saw supporting him were on different forms of social media, but regardless.

Before I begin, I'd like to pose a reminder that the opinions in this are mine and mine alone. If you agree, awesome! If not, I'd love to hear your thoughts on it, so long as you're respectful! I have no idea if this is well written or will make any logical sense, but here we go!

(Spoilers for the 2.2 Trailblazer quest under the cut, if that wasn't already obvious)

So the first thing to get off the table: I feel Sunday is a very sympathetic villain, but a villain nonetheless. I understand the people that sympathize with him. I do too, to an extent. He was raised on unhealthy ideals and the belief that he was a "religious figure," one that people looked up to. Other people were allowed to just be, but Sunday always had to be better. He loved his sister, and the people around him, and he wanted to make a better world for them.

But that does not excuse what he did. Making a 'better world' can never come at the cost of taking away people's free will, because that world will never be "better". That's where Sunday's plan falls apart.

Because, yes, there are shitty people in the world, and yes bad things happen. Would it be amazing if we could stop all the bad things from happening ever again, and make the world a much better place? Yes! It would! I would love to live in a world where I don't have to fear for my life and my freedom for an assortment of reasons! But that world doesn't exist--in real life or on Penacony--, and getting it to exist shouldn't be the result of subjugating and controlling other people, because that in and of itself is violence. Albeit a different kind of violence, but violence nonetheless.

Not to mention that things like Sunday's plan and the concept of forcing everyone to act a certain way just to fit this "better world" to me almost serves as a condemnation of human nature and of the very act of choice itself. Your better world starts by saying that some choices are bad, so those choices get taken away, but where does it end? What if someone in charge views a harmless choice as a bad one, and takes away that one in return? Does it stop there, or does it continue, until no one at all is allowed to make any decisions, except those in charge? Who, really, does that benefit?

Consequences for certain choices exist. Generally, society says murder is bad (except for specific circumstances such as self-defense, which technically at that point is no longer even considered murder (at least where I live, it may be different in other areas, but I'm basing this off of my own experience)), so there is a concrete consequence to people murdering people--assuming that they don't get away with it. It doesn't stop people from murdering people, because the liberty of choice is still there, but it shows that just because you can do something doesn't mean you should or that you will escape without consequence.

People are going to do bad things. That is, unfortunately, how humans are. But our responsibility lies in holding ourselves accountable and in promoting growth and healing. That is how you build a better world. Not trapping everyone inside a dream world without any care for their feelings or beliefs, but in getting people the help they need, in fostering a society of positive change and human connection.

And that is why, as "golden" as Sunday's dream may have seemed, it was never going to work. In the end, as the story quest shows, human will and the desire for freedom wins out in the end. When there's a will, there's a way.

[beefros-sin-bin]

Goodbye 2023!

Thank you to everyone who sent in submissions - I have so much reading to catch up on now! 🥩💜🥩

If you have more fics to recommend for the SinBin, keep sending them my way.

I was originally going to break everything by category into the various P-boys, but the majority are one specific character. So we have two categories:

Joel Miller Fics

Other P-boy Fics.

I've included the comments (if there was one) for each fic submitted, but kept the submitter anonymous.

Beefro & the SinBin 🚮🥩💜

Joel Miller Fics (in no specific order)

Left in Lincoln - @toxicanonymity

Left in Lincoln. It's no secret my love for this series, and for my favorite Joelkémon, but this story is one I love not only for the slow burn sexiness but the horror elements in general. The balance of fear and horror with the soft, beautiful descriptions of the characters and setting make it one I return to over and over. The musical references and influence on the story is just the icing on the cake 🖤 Or ice cream on the pie, in this case 🍑🌸 Ty for the beautiful stories Toxy, and community to obsess over our mutual obsessions 🥰🖤

Scarecrow & Fear Thy Neighbor by @xdaddysprincessxx

So my first rec is @xdaddysprincessxx and her Farmer Joel series 🚜 All of her work is amazing but this one is so fun and soooo hot! (Heed the warnings though if you choose to read) I'm biased because I got to hear about her writing process and contribute some of my own thots 🤭 But it's not only sexy af (just like her!) but scary too!!! Be sure to read the sequel too 😉 She's not only a talented writer but a wonderful human in general 🖤

Help I’m Stuck! By @nosesitter

Reader gets “stuck” in the dryer. Luckily her father in law Joel just so happens to find her and helps 😉 her. When I read this I finally got the whole “oh no I’m stuck!” sex scenario lmao I always found it kinda funny bc in porn they’d be stuck in ridiculous spots but this fic? Fucking hot as hell. I get it now 🤷🏻‍♀️

I can be your pretty girl by @walkintotheriveranddisappear

Okay so I’m almost positive she is tired of me recc’ing & talking about this series lol it’s the hottest fucking fic ever. I genuinely am obsessed. It has everything. She deserves a Nobel peace prize for this idc idc.

A Secret Worth Keeping by @multiversed-daydreamer

Vamp Joel. I repeat Vamp. Joel. 🥵 and his vampirism is a secret and readers blood is his krptonite and she has to keep what they do hush hush. It’s so goddamn delicious 🤤

Fall into Temptation by @joelsgreys

Whew okay where do I start? Reader is the pastors daughter. Joel is Joel. 😏 they end up falling for each other and having a beautiful love affair. That has to be a secret bc her father would forbid it! Duh! It’s spicy, they have to sneak around to meet up with each other (again I am paraphrasing ish I don’t wanna spoil lol) and the religious tones in it? My baby is feeding me. This heals my religious trauma. Feeds my daddy issues and desire to fuck this old man.

Deliver Me From Nowhere by @atinylittlepain

It is beautifully written, touching a delicate topic with such care, it is truly an amazing work.

Just This Once by @talaok

Okay hear me out: this one brings the angst. The emotion. I felt so bad for reader, bby girl just wanted love. It tore me up inside. I had tears.

Self Indulgent Tendencies by @strang3lov3

So this was actually the first fic of Bugs I ever read. And. I. LOVED. IT. I’m trying not to spoil anything but long story short; Joel catches reader and fucks her to teach her a lesson. (I am extremely paraphrasing this lol) it still lives in my damn brain 🥵

Meet Me in the Back by @atticrissfinch

Sleazy gas station Joel. That’s it. That’s all. He is so sleazy and ugh I need his dick. And so does reader after she gets it. And she keeps coming. Back for more that is 😉

All You Wanna Do by @atticrissfinch

Now I am an angst queen. And boy this one is not for the weak. It is dark, please please please heed the warnings on this one. But personally I love this one. She has truly ripped my heart out, made my chest physically hurt. She invokes emotion so well.

No One But Me by @koshkamartell

This is a small blog's series that deserves to be promoted!

The Wrong Way by @romana-after-dark

Raider!Joel Miller and Raider!Tommy Miller x fem!Reader

Other P-boy Fics (in no specific order)

Dirty Uncle Ezra by @bonezone44

😏 yea I said it. Dirty Uncle Ezra. Hottest fucking concept I’ve ever heard. He’s so dirty and sleazy and ngh I’m already moaning. Also this beautiful human is an amazing artist so plz check out their art work 💜 (a note from Beefro: the fact that the age tag on this is 56+ made me laugh out loud)

Pascals Pursuit of Love! by @elvinaa (all the P-Boys!)

The innovation! It has all the P boys Bachelorette style. It’s so much like the show, it’s got twists and turns, there’s funny moments, cute moments. I look forward to each week aka each chapter lol I love it so much.

Apple by @romana-after-dark

Bisexual!Dark!Santiago Garcia, Bisexual!Dark!Frankie Morales, and Bisexual!Dark!William Miller x fem!Reader

[jam-jar2]

I HAVE A STORY IDEA BUT I SUCK AT WRITING AND ILL DEFOS FUCK IT UP AND ABANDONE IT HALF WAY.

NIGHTCRAWLER x TWISTED PARTNER

I need someone to write a story about nightcrawler (kurt Wagner) from Xmen. So you know how kurt looks like a “demon” but he’s so sweet, generous and heavily religious too. Well I always thought about him having a partner that kinda looks like lucifer in that fallen angel paint, basically looks angelic (red hair, pale eyes, blemish free skin, almost a glow to them) but they have a really cruel power, like a torturing or nightmare based abilities? Maybe similar to wandas powers but more on the darker side, Idk.

Their relationship would be rocky, her questioning the world because they’ve experienced alot but that’s what almost brought them close, they both experienced negative situations in life and comfort each other through the healing process.

But my favourite thing about this is like the situation of when someone is petrified of kurt purely based on his appearance (even though he’s been nothing but welcoming) and they clearly avoid him but they find themselves unfortunately in a room where jury’s partner is, they speak about how kurt freaks them out and the whole religion thing but adds almost a creep aspect to him.

Suddenly the room seems to shake or change or maybe the person feels different, then there’s kurts partner behind them “watch your words or else I’ll cut out your tongue and stitch your mouth closed” her eyes bloodshot and iris glowing red. Then the person feels a pain around their mouth and feels that it has bee sealed shut with thread. They brush out crying and are screaming, but to everyone else nothing happened, this person just started crying out of the blue ( their mouth is perfectly fine) and there’s kurts partner sipping coffee. Twirling her fingers and arsed smoke slightly radiating off her fingers.

Of course she gets lectured but the professor about it, but she doesn’t seem fazes by his words, but when kurt voices his disappointment, oh boy she’s devastated. She knows she’s a monster and that shes not a good person, but the love of her life might be thinking so too, damn that’s heartbreaking.

She explained that they were making horrible accusations about him and she couldn’t hve someone speak such disgusting word but him, but he explains that people with talk and she can’t stop everyone who doesn’t like him. She tilts her head confused because yes, she thinks she could.

She has to protect him, he was the purest thing in this world and she wishes to keep him like that.

Basically this stories giving “I’d let the world burn for you” angry villain vibes x happy sweetheart hero

They’d probably break up a lot but they’d still hold torches for each other. Him always asking her to change, her promising but hero so angry tht she does something to mess up. But he also mess up when he keeps tabs on her and she ends up feeling constricted and felt she’s being watched all the time, giving her a sense of fear and anxiety all the time. Like she’s on a ledge waiting to be pushed off at any point.

Idk if they’d be each other’s end game, but they’d definitely each other’s issues in any other relationships because of how close they are and obviously their past together.

[pagesandpothos]

The Sins On Their Bones by Laura R. Samotin

I had no idea what to expect when I started The Sins On Their Bones by Laura R. Samotin. I saw that it was blurbed by several queer romantasy authors that I like, so I requested it from NetGalley on a whim and was happy to dive in. I'm so glad I did. It was not what I was expecting but it is an interesting and dark fantasy that I enjoyed discovering.

First of all, if there are things that could trigger you, be sure to read the content warnings before you start this book! This novel deals with some very heavy topics and the author has kindly included detailed warnings on her website (there's also some stunning character art for you to seek out while you're there).

The Sins On Their Bones is inspired by Jewish mysticism and folklore and is a high fantasy set in a world similar to Eastern Europe in the 19th century. Dimitri Alexeyev, one of the main POV characters and a former Tszar, has recently lost a brutal civil war to his vicious and newly immortal ex-husband, Alexey Balakin.

At the story's start, Dimitri is in hiding in the Free States with his closest friends and former members of his royal court: Vasily, his most trusted spy; Annika, who once led his army; Ladushka, his political advisor, and Mischa, his royal physician. Dimitri still harbors a lot of guilt (and other complicated feelings) about Alexey, the war, and the consequences of it. When Vasily brings word that Alexey is building an army to invade the Free States the group hatches a dangerous plan to finally defeat Dimitri's monstrous ex.

The novel cycles through three POVs. Along with Dimitri, we also get chapters from Alexey and Vasily. All three POVs are engaging and each adds different things to the story. Jumping back and forth through their parts of the story moved the plot along steadily while also filling in the needed backstory. Vasily's chapters, in particular, give a lot of clarity to the backstory which was one of the many reasons that his chapters quickly became my favorite.

The plot of this is fast-paced, dark, and full of religious and political themes. I also found it surprising and not predictable at all. Multiple moments shocked me and had me frantically flipping pages to see what would happen next.

The characters are also likable. Vasily, as I've already mentioned, is a fantastic character. Dimitri is sympathetic and has a nice arc of growth and healing. Alexey is a terrifying and well-written villain. Annika, Ladushka, and Mischa round out the main cast as dynamic characters with a lovely "found family" relationship (together with Dimitri and Vasily).

The Sins On Their Bones is a unique and very queer dark fantasy. I'd recommend it to anyone who enjoys classic tales of good versus evil in their fantasy!

Other Points:

Alexey reminds me of The Darkling from the Shadow and Bone trilogy.

There may be a Doctor Who reference?

There is an asexual character and a non-binary character along with the many same-sex relationships that the book features.

The whole book is delightfully queer normative with most of the main characters and several side characters being casually queer. There's no drama or trauma around their identities.

I also liked how the author wove Judaism into the world.

Did I mention how much I love Vasily?

The last 25% of the book is tense, action-packed, emotional, and surprising. It is almost impossible to put down!

The ending is satisfying while also setting up issues for a future sequel.

My Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐

Tropes/Tags: achillean, queer, Jewish fantasy, dark fantasy, Hurt/Comfort, found family

Spice Level: 🌶️🌶️/5. There are multiple sex scenes (various m/m pairings) that are "Open Door" and mildly descriptive.

Content Warnings: Full list from the author

If you liked this I think you will like The Sins On Their Bones: The Shadow and Bone series for the Eastern European inspiration. This is a much more gory and adult version though!

Links: Storygraph | GoodReads | LauraRSamotin.com

The Sins On Their Bones will be released on May 7, 2024, and is available for pre-order!

This book was made available to me in advance thanks to NetGalley! I received a free digital copy of this book in exchange for this review. The above are my honest feelings on the provided book.

[tarabyte3]

The Devil Makes Us Sin

Fandom: Luther, Luther: The Fallen Sun

Pairing: David Robey/F!Reader

Chapter 4/? (12.8k words)

->start at chapter 1<-

<- Chapter 3

AO3 Link

Summary: Your life isn't perfect, and you don't enjoy moonlighting as a camgirl for so many repulsive men, but you need the money and it's yours. You're getting by just fine. You're content.

At least you thought you were. Then you get a strange text message. And you aren't sure if you're horrified or intrigued.

Warnings: Explicit rating, smut, stalking, spying, blackmail, manipulation, dubcon, dubious consent, Dom/sub, sadism, masochism, unprotected sex, oral sex, masturbation, mutual masturbation, choking, dirty talk, praise, humiliation, possessive love, yandere, minor description of gore, minor description of violence, murder, discussion of murder, shame involving sex work, light shaming of sex work, emotionally abusive mother, troubled mother/daughter relationship, sexual harassment, workplace sexual harassment, alcohol consumption, religious trauma

A/N: To all of my fellow readers with mother issues, this chapter is for us 💖 Because those troubled mother/daughter relationship and emotionally abusive mother tags hit real hard this chapter (I'm not projecting, you're projecting). But I eventually make it up to you, I promise. (As a reminder from my notes last chapter, David uses voice to text when they're chatting 😏) Also, I changed the formatting for texting conversations because eventually there will be texting while there is external dialogue, and I don't want it to be confusing. So his texts continue to be in italics and Reader's are in italics AND quotes.

Work title is from "Paradise Circus" by Massive Attack. Chapter title is from Tanaka Mhishi's poem in Literary Sexts II. Text divider 1 is from Francisco de Goya's Witches Flight. Text divider 2 is from Caravaggio's Sacrifice of Isaac.

Chapter 4 - I am fragile and unholy. Open. Ravage. Eat.

That night, after calming down from your conversation with David, you finally do the thing that you've been putting off for far too long. The thing that causes panic to swell in your chest and your mind to recoil whenever you start to examine it. 

You think about your mother.

So you pour a glass of wine, set your phone off to the side, flop down on your couch, and you begin to metaphorically unpack.

You've always prided yourself on being an intelligent woman. You know, logically, this will help you feel better in the long run. It will help you heal. Help you grow. And right now that's what you yearn for—to know and embrace yourself as you truly are, not who you pretended to be for so long that you almost believed it. Not your mask.

The mask that you built because of her, you think. One crafted out of fear and shame. Other people may have honed it, but she laid the foundation.

You also know she's the reason you have so many hang ups and difficulties forming connections with people. You know it's part of the reason you've been miserable for so long. You know this needs to be done. You know that.

It still…well, it hurts.

You learned at a young age to be fiercely independent because you couldn't count on her for support. Or encouragement. Or warmth. Her answer was always the same: "Pray or go to confession." As if all of your problems were your own fault or stemmed from a lack of faith.

And the message was clear—The only love you'll ever get is God's love. Maybe he can fix you.

You wanted it, though. God, did you want her to gather you in her arms and tell you, just once, that she was proud of you. That she truly loved you. You did everything you could to please and placate and impress her, hoping if you were good enough or hid well enough, you might finally get all of that. You got good grades, you were well-behaved, and you went to church, even when you stopped believing. You gave up your dream of being an artist for her, for christsake!

Sure, a part of that was because she tainted the piece of yourself you turned to for expression and escape. But since you're already unpacking every horrible bit of this, you can finally admit to yourself that you also gave it up for her.

For nothing.

Because it didn't work. Getting a business degree and an office job didn't make her proud, it only created a new direction in which you were lacking. You lost a part of yourself and got nothing in return. The thought of it makes you so angry that hot tears prick your eyes.

You get up to pour yourself another glass of wine.

You don't even know why your mother treated you the way she did. You think that if you could at least know why it might be easier to stomach. Then you wouldn't feel so confused and lost. Sure, it would hurt, but it would be something solid you could sit with.

Perhaps she saw that you weren't what she would call normal, and she hated it—wanted to spurn you into changing and hiding. It's ironic, then, that her disgust just fueled that darkness within you. Gave it the sustenance it needed to grow, devoid of warmth, in the corners of your heart and mind.

Maybe all of this would have turned out differently, if only she had loved you.

Or perhaps that's just who she is, and, even if you had been everything she wanted, it still wouldn't have made a difference. Still wouldn't have been good enough. You got it from somewhere, after all.

You'll never know either way.

What you do know is this: If you couldn't count on your own mother, then why would you ever think you could count on or trust anyone else?

Why wouldn't they brush you aside eventually as well? Why bother getting close to anyone—assuming they didn't bore you in the first place? Why wouldn't they see the real you and look just as disgusted as the one person that should have loved you unconditionally? 

And people continuously proved you right by walking away when you didn't thaw under their attention or they caught a glimpse of that darkness—until David. Until he looked and saw the real you, and it only made him want you more.

Well, you're thawing now.

No.

You're melting.

You wonder what your mother would think of you if she could see you at this very moment. On one hand, you've laid waste to the life you built for yourself for a man that stalked you. She'd have a few choice words for you there, such as disappointment and embarrassment. "What will people think?" But on the other hand, you finally have someone and he's rich, which would go a long way towards forgiveness. Because, even though she prides herself on her piety, pride is her greatest sin. She would tell everyone she knew, as if it were her achievement, while conveniently leaving out the rest of it. Like the fact that you're happy.

As you're pouring your third glass of wine, you debate calling her. It's not too late. She should still be awake. You can finally ask her why. Why nothing you've done has ever been good enough. Why she cared about God and what everyone else thought more than her own daughter. 

You can ask her why you can't remember the last time she hugged you or told you she loved you. Because a daughter should be able to recall that, shouldn't she? Oh, she said it plenty in front of other people. She gave you scraps with no meaning behind the words or warmth in her eyes. But in private, where no one else was watching her performance? You got nothing. You starved for affection. Maybe you can ask her why.

But you know that's the alcohol talking.

And it wouldn't do any good anyway. You won't get the answers you seek or the apology you need. You won't get promises to do better. You won't get a mom.

This was all for nothing.

Instead, you pick up your phone and block her number.

No contact. A clean cut. Never again.

You expect that to hurt, too, but for the first time since you started this, you feel lighter. Because you're finally done looking for hope where there isn't any to be found. You're also finally acknowledging that you deserved everything she never gave you. And that isn't a failing on your part—it never was. It's her failure. Another one of her sins. Now it's her loss.

Maybe you should have done that years ago, but you're doing it now. You're moving forward and letting go, and that's what's important.

While your phone is in your hand, you check your messages to confirm that David hasn't sent you anything. You aren't surprised. You hadn't expected him to. But that doesn't mean you didn't want him to.

You want it all the time now, you realize. It's only been a couple of hours since you ended the call, but you'd still love nothing more than to get back on and talk to him again until the early hours of the morning.

You may have been able to stop yourself from angrily calling your mother, but the combination of wine and your already weakening grasp on your self-control when it comes to him means you're typing before you even realize it.

"Thank you. For everything. I can never say it enough, David, because you've done more for me than any person in my life EVER has. I mean it. Truly. I'm so grateful."

"Also, for the record, I'm certain I could pick you out of a crowd now."

You're welcome. Always.

And I'll keep that in mind the next time I need coffee.

You smile at your phone. Your eyes are watery, your cheeks are warm, and your lips are lopsided and trembling. You can blame all of that on the wine, but the way your heart is battering against your ribcage?

You've got it bad for some words on a screen, a hand, a pair of shoes, and a ghost.

The next morning, you sleep in until a gloriously late hour. Just because you can. And because last night was emotionally exhausting—you're certain the wine didn't help either. Even when you're no longer tired, you lie in bed, wrapped in the warmth of your blankets, and bask in the knowledge that you never have to go back to that office ever again.

Or speak to your mother, you think with a contented sigh.

You feel untethered, but not adrift. No, you know exactly which direction you're headed, and now you have the freedom to do so.

Eventually you resume your search for a new bed on your phone as well because you start to think about how blissful this lounging would have been on a comfortable mattress. With silk sheets. And a new nightgown... Oh, now there's an interesting thought. You could get something new and sexy. Maybe something with lace. Or more silk. Or, even better, something sheer that barely covers your ass.

You also think about how much David would enjoy all of those things.

You start off looking at sleepwear that leans more sensible than sexy, but as you begin to wonder what he would think of each one, you quickly find yourself clicking on more and more revealing pieces.

It's when you're looking at a see through, drapey number that comes off with only a clasp between your breasts that your phone buzzes with a new text message.

You grin. You wondered how long it would be before he reached out to you. Now you're absolutely certain he's keeping tabs on you and saw how racy your searches were getting. Part of you was doing it on purpose—baiting him until he couldn't resist any longer. Even if it gave him away. You know better than to trust a coincidence.

Are you enjoying your first day of freedom?

"Immensely. I haven't even gotten out of bed yet." You're smug as you hit send because now you've added the thought of you in bed to his mental image of the lingerie.

Is that so? Sounds as though you're having a lovely morning.

Any other exciting plans for the day?

"Not unless you count a date with a book on my nightstand."

Depends on what kind of book.

"Well, there are two of them for me to choose from. One is a murder mystery. The other is a steamy romance novel." It's a lie. You have two art history books and an Amedeo Modigliani biography on your nightstand.

I see. Two very different types of thrilling.

"Exactly. On one hand, the murder mystery would stimulate my brain."

It takes a minute longer for you to get a response to that.

And what would the romance novel stimulate?

"My heart, David. What else?" You bite your lip in excitement as you continue to type.

"Now tell me which one you would like best."

If I had to choose between the two, I would prefer the murder mystery.

"Of course you would. But I meant which of the lingerie you would like best. Because I know you were watching me."

There's another pause.

All of them.

"All of them?! But there were so many!"

I'm certain. I liked all of them.

Especially since you'd be the one wearing them.

A pleasant heat unfurls in your chest and creeps up your neck at the thought of him sitting there, watching you browse, picturing you in every outfit…and maybe even saving a few of the links for later.

"Well then. I'll keep that in mind. I really liked the maroon silk one, personally. I bet it would feel nice on my skin."

I agree, it would feel very nice on your skin.

Fuck.

The mental image of his hand trailing up your thigh—pushing the hem of the nightgown higher and higher while the fabric and his palm slide over your quivering flesh—flashes vividly through your mind.

You had been enjoying a morning of relaxation and contentment just a few minutes ago. Even with a bit of light teasing about the lingerie, it had been peaceful. Now? Now that feeling has been reshaped and is nothing more than a memory. Now a slick heat has ignited in your core, and you're left nearly panting and writhing in your blankets from the intensity of it.

How quickly he can send you reeling.

God, you're definitely buying that one. Later. Right now, however, you finally have the chance to flirt with him—really flirt—and you're going to take it. Because you know where this is headed. You know where it could have resolved yesterday but didn't because you were at work.

And you're so glad you're not at work right now, stuck squirming and struggling at your desk as you try to ignore the swollen ache between your legs. Instead, you're squirming in the privacy of your bed, and you no longer have to ignore anything. Now you have no intention of stopping.

This is how you want to respond to him.

You're also really enjoying feigning innocence, and you're curious to see how much longer he'll play along. Because you have no illusions that he's buying a second of it.

"I don't think I'll be getting the black one with the sheer lace top, though. It didn't look very comfortable. I wouldn't be able to wear it for long."

Before he can reply, you quickly type out, "Wait. You're not busy, are you? I should have asked first before carrying on about my online shopping. That was rude of me."

I'm not anymore.

"Just get out of a meeting?"

I just canceled my last meeting because I've suddenly found something much better to do.

"Is helping me pick out pajamas really that thrilling?"

You can stop playing dumb now. You and I both know exactly what you're doing.

"What am I doing?" You straighten up and hold your breath in anticipation. You must be getting to him. You expected him to hold out just a little bit longer. Not that you're complaining. Not when you know you have his full attention.

You're trying to get me bothered as payback for yesterday.

"Is it working?"

You know it is.

"And just how bothered are you?"

Very.

You let out a shaky breath as you sink back into your pillows and begin to settle in. "Good. But that's not the only reason I'm doing this, David."

Is that so? What other reason do you have?

"Because I want to. Because I'm enjoying having the freedom to respond to you the way that I want."

Intriguing. And how are you doing that?

"I'm sure you'll find out soon enough." You shift your phone to your dominant hand to keep it steady. Then your other hand disappears beneath your covers and continues traveling down to the waistband of your panties.

Will I?

"You will. As long as you continue to please me." You nudge the fabric out of the way to give yourself the access you need and eagerly slip your hand inside. When your fingers finally brush over your arousal, you groan with relief.

There's nothing I want more than to please you.

"Is that so? How are you going to do that?" You repeat his words back to him as you rub a little harder along your damp folds. The added pressure makes your eyelids go heavy with lust. You spread your legs wider, seeking even more of that friction.

By giving you what you need.

God, you want that. From him. The thought of it makes you ache. Your fingers move to circle over your clit, dragging some of your wetness with them, and you moan into your empty bedroom. You shakily type out, "And what do I need?"

Me.

Shit. You had planned to go slow and tease yourself. You wanted to draw out the banter so you could savor your first time touching yourself to him. Because, despite the fact that he's turned you into a horny wreck several times already, you've held off until now. But as you read his text—that single word—it's as if your body has been doused in kerosene and lit on fire. Your hand speeds up.

"You seem awfully sure of that."

I'm very sure.

Are you going to tell me that I'm wrong? Or are you going to be honest?

You quickly debate finding a way to deny it. To get him to push harder because his arrogant confidence is stoking the flame in your belly and you want more. But every response you come up with sounds so flimsy. You know it won't work. He'll just call out the lie. He knows exactly how you're responding to him now, and he won't let it go, like a shark sensing blood in the water.

Well, if he wants to circle, then you'll give him prey instead—something he can't resist.

"Honest."

There's a good girl. Then be honest for me. Tell me what you need.

You cry out and your hips roll to meet the rhythm of your fingers. Your other hand is still gripping your cell phone, holding onto it for dear life so you don't drop it and miss a single word. "You."

That's right. And are you thinking about me right now?

"Yes." You are. You're thinking about his hands all over you, driving you wild and breathless and working needy little whimpers from your throat.

Very good. I hope you're thinking about all of the things I plan to do to you when I finally get my hands on you.

"Tell me. Please." More, you think. God, you need more.

And spoil the surprise? You'll have to use your imagination for now.

You grunt in frustration. "That's a little difficult when I don't know what you look like."

That is unfortunate, isn't it?

He's so god-damned smug! Jesus, it's infuriating!

There's a responding surge of wetness beneath your fingers, and the slick sound becomes obscene in your quiet bedroom.

"I've told you, it's unfair."

Nothing about this is supposed to be fair.

Your grip weakens and your phone nearly slips from your grasp, but you frantically right it. You're getting so close… "David, please!"

I promise when we move forward, you'll find out for yourself. But only when you're ready.

Unless you're done hesitating?

You know he's dangling that in front of you, tempting you with what you want so you'll say yes. You want to say yes. You want to call him right now and let him hear you say it as you moan and beg into the phone.

But that's giving him too much.

You're done hesitating. Of course you are. But when you take that step, it's going to be on your terms. You know, instinctively, that you should never give up too much power to him. Both because it would be so easy to lose yourself in him—which you don't want to do now that you've finally found yourself—and because he would delight in never giving it back.

"I suppose we'll see, won't we? I would hate to ruin the surprise."

Now who's being unfair?

"I'm only playing by your rules."

Clever.

My clever, beautiful girl. I can't wait to see you like this. I bet you look so good for me right now. Don't you?

"Yes!"

That's right. So fucking good and needy for me. God, I want you so much.

Your grip goes slack again, and this time you do drop your phone onto the bed. But you don't stop to pick it up. You're too far gone now, and you couldn't type even if you wanted to. Instead, you redouble your effort and greedily chase your orgasm, your hand moving in rapid strokes against your clit.

It's fast and messy and desperate. You haven't masturbated like this in years, but the tension has been building inside of you. It's grown under all of his teasing, his suggestive comments, his perceptive observations, and his unrevealing photos until you couldn't ignore it any longer. Now you need to release it at last—to immolate yourself in your desire.

For him.

"David," you moan. His name rolls off your tongue for the first time in ecstasy. It happens so naturally, as if you've said it that way a hundred times before. As if your mouth knows the way to give shape to your longing.

Hearing his name, when you're already poised on that edge, is your undoing.

You throw your head back into the pillow and arch off the bed with a cry as that tension finally snaps, sending a white hot fission through your veins in its place. Your toes curl and your newly freed hand bunches a fistful of your sheets, pulling them taut while your whole body shudders with every violent swell of pleasure.

As you come, all you can think about is him. "Fuck!" The movement of your fingers over your clit becomes jerky, but never slows. You're determined to make every second of this feel so fucking good. "David!" It rolls and rolls and rolls through you, weakening and yet seemingly without end as you work every last bit of rapture from your sensitive flesh—

Until, finally, you collapse against the bed with a whimper, and your hand flops weakly down onto the mattress next to you. You lay there, gasping for breath, your eyes closed, and your limbs and your brain and your belly humming in the heady afterglow of your release.

By all accounts, this should bring you a bone deep satisfaction. It should have quelled the fire that burns for him, even if only temporarily.

But as your mind clears, you feel quite the opposite. As if something has awakened inside of you, stirring from a deep slumber in that same way he roused your darkness.

And it's ravenous.

You grope along the bedspread for your phone.

When you pick it back up, your hands are still trembling from the intensity of your orgasm.

"I think I'm rather enjoying my new freedom."

So am I.

A groan is wrenched from your chest as you glance up at his previous messages and wonder just how much he was enjoying it. You have a pretty good guess.

"God, David. I miss you."

I miss you, too. But not for much longer.

"Would you like to chat now?" There's a renewed flutter of interest from your swollen sex as you think about doing this again, but for him.

There's nothing I want more. Unfortunately, I have some important personal matters to take care of this afternoon, but I promise the evening is yours. How does 6 o'clock sound?

There's a pang of disappointment in your chest. That's hours from now! But before you can pout, you remind yourself that you're an adult. You can control and entertain yourself until then, for christsake. Besides, he said the evening was yours. You'll have plenty of time to talk to him later.

You also really want to ask what sort of personal matters because you're curious about what they could be, and about him in general, but he would have elaborated if he wanted you to know. The word personal also denotes a certain level of privacy. So you leave it be. For now.

"That sounds lovely. I'm looking forward to it."

Me too. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy your date with the book on your nightstand.

"I've changed my mind there, actually. I have a lot more shopping to do instead." You give your phone a little grin.

Oh?

"Yes. It's been so productive and satisfying thus far. Who knows what other wonderful things might result from it?"

I see.

"I hope you enjoy your afternoon."

I'm certain I will. Enjoy your shopping.

You end up purchasing some of the lingerie that gets you particularly worked up whenever you think about him—especially the maroon one. Then you spend the rest of your day purging your wardrobe of your boring work clothes and whatever else reminds you too much of your old life. The result is a sparse apartment and an even barer closet, but you like it. It's a reflection of where you are in life and of all the room you have to grow and rebuild the way you want.

You may occasionally take breaks from downsizing to browse for new outfits and dresses, but it's to figure out what you like so you can eventually replace what you're getting rid of. It's definitely not to keep David intrigued throughout the day and looking forward to talking to you again. Not when he's so busy. That would be cruel.

You can't remember ever smiling this much.

You log on several minutes early. You don't care that it's probably a little pathetic. You don't even care if it lets him know exactly how eager you are for this. You've been checking the clock since five and you were getting impatient. You can only pace so many circles in your living room before you lose your mind. Not that sitting there and staring at your own face is any better, but at least it gets you closer to him.

To your relief, he logs on a few minutes early, too. Possibly because he knows you're already here, but you hope it’s because he was impatient as well. The electronic chime makes your heart swell in your chest.

"Hello, David."

Hello, darling.

The image of you on the screen practically swoons at his greeting. There's no other way to describe the gentle tilting of your head, your dreamy smile, or how your eyes soften with affection.

You barely recognize this woman.

You're not sure you've ever made that face before now. Or if you have, it was when the National Gallery rotated Cornelius van Haarlem's Two Followers of Cadmus devoured by a Dragon back into display after you hadn't seen it in a while. Never for another person. Certainly not for a black square not even three centimeters wide.

This man is dangerous.

Getting impatient, were you?

"I knew you were going to say something," you grumble as you fight off a sudden wave of embarrassment.

How could I not? You have no idea how lovely this feeling is. It's gratifying to have such a beautiful woman wanting to talk to you.

You lean in close and lower your voice. "In that case, I was very impatient."

Hmm. I'm so very pleased to hear it.

Did you have a productive afternoon?

"I did, actually. I accomplished quite a bit."

Good. And did you have fun shopping?

"You know I did." You give the camera a heated smile. While it wasn't as risque as the lingerie, the clothes you were looking at—low cut silky blouses, high slit skirts, backless tops, skin tight pants—were still sexy, just in a more subtle way.

Do I?

You roll your eyes and ignore the obvious bait—something that would have irritated a response from you just a few days ago. "How was your afternoon?"

Also productive, despite the circumstances.

"Circumstances?" You cock an eyebrow, no longer able to ignore it. He really does know how to push your buttons, after all, much to your chagrin. "Do you mean with your personal matters or do you mean spying on me?"

Both, but I wouldn't call it spying.

"Well, I would! So it serves you right." Despite your fake outrage, you're thrilled he was still paying attention, even when he was busy.

Do you want me to stop?

You pause to consider your answer. You think you should probably be unsettled that he's monitoring all of your activity. If any other man did that, you would be furious and horrified, but he's not any other man. He's also not holding it over you, making you feel bad, or controlling what you're doing. So far—your answer would change if he were. He's simply looking.

And you enjoy knowing that he's looking. In a strange way, it makes you feel connected to him, even when you aren't chatting, as if it's just another aspect of your relationship. It also makes you feel like you're the most important and interesting thing in his life—you'll admit that particular feeling has become quite addictive. You enjoy being able to take advantage of it as well, like you did this afternoon.

However, there may be times when you do want privacy for a specific reason. He certainly doesn't need to know every detail about your hygiene purchases or your embarrassing Google searches. Well, future embarrassing searches, anyway. It also makes it very difficult to surprise him if he can see what you're up to.

"No, I don't want you to stop." Your lips curl into a seductive smile. "I like it quite a bit, in fact. I just have one condition."

What's that?

"If I do ever ask for privacy, you give it to me. No questions asked and no looking."

Of course. Then you'll have it.

"I mean it," you say seriously. "I need to trust you'll respect my wishes."

You have my word that I will give you privacy whenever you request it. You only ever need to ask.

"Alright." You relax in your chair, mollified by his response. Because you believe him. "Thank you, David."

You're welcome.

Now tell me about your productivity.

"That's not a very exciting topic of conversation, I'm afraid. In fact, most of it was quite boring."

Tell me anyway.

"Well, I went through my flat and got rid of everything that felt like it belonged to the person I was pretending to be and not me."

I see. That doesn't sound boring. You shed another one of your layers.

I bet it felt good.

"It did! It felt freeing. I didn't realize before how much my place felt like a stage. As if the performance didn't stop, even when I was alone. And when I had a roommate? God, no wonder I was always so miserable."

It's also probably why you grew to resent every roommate you've ever had, no matter how much you didn't mind or tolerated them when they moved in. It didn't matter if they were quiet or cleaned up after themselves. Their presence meant the only place you could truly let your guard down was your bedroom. It was exhausting.

"But now the set dressings are gone. No more calf length pencil skirts or tacky lingerie. No more gifted kitchen gadgets and holiday candles. No more cheap art prints of pieces that I don't even like.” Then you grumble, “God, I swear I had like, half a dozen versions of Irises.”

No more mask.

"No more mask," you repeat out loud with a sigh of relief. Even saying it feels incredible. "Speaking of, you'll be pleased to hear I've also been doing some reflecting since we talked yesterday." You can't help the smug grin that creeps onto your face.

Oh?

"Yes. I've figured out where my reflex to apologize when I think I've upset or inconvenienced someone comes from."

Have you? Does that mean you're ready to talk about your mother?

You huff out a laugh and shake your head. Of course. You should have seen that coming. "You're frighteningly good at that."

It's a gift.

You can feel his smirk through your screen. "So it is. And I'm glad to know that I'm predictable."

I never used that word.

"It's true, though." You shrug, unbothered by your own statement. "It's a behavior that's usually learned in childhood. In this instance, I'm not particularly unique."

I disagree.

"I just meant that a lot of people have troubled relationships with their parents." A lot of them developed the same issues from it as well, you think to yourself. Granted, the cliche is that women in the sex work industry have daddy issues, not mommy issues. So perhaps you're not entirely predictable.

And yet, they're not you. They didn't become what you are.

"And just what am I?" That's another thing you haven't looked at too closely. You've been so consumed with the "who," you haven't really considered the "what."

You're something entirely different. Something more like me.

"That's not an answer."

I assure you, it is.

"It's not, David," you insist. "I still don't fully know what that means!"

If you're expecting me to pathologize you instead, I'm not going to.

"Why not?" You tilt your head curiously. You weren't actually expecting him to, but now you're intrigued as to why he won't.

Because that's not an answer to your question either. Those terms and labels are just more costumes that don't suit you. You're far more than that.

Before you can object that you disagree and that it might actually help you understand yourself better, he continues on. As if he anticipated what you were going to say.

It would also imply there's something wrong with you. But there's nothing wrong with you, despite what anyone may have told you in the past.

"You really do have me all figured out, don't you?" There's more affection in your voice than you intended.

I told you. I see you.

"You do. And I'm guessing you see my text message history, too." You raise an eyebrow at the camera in challenge, daring him to deny it.

You thought a lot about what else he would have access to after he blindsided you with the knowledge of your side bank account. Reading your texts would be absurdly easy in comparison, so of course he knows about your relationship with your mother. It's also how he knew that threatening to tell her your secret would be so effective.

That as well.

"I think that's the first thing I know you've seen that I feel embarrassed about."

Why?

"Because it means you've seen the worst of my mask," you say quietly.

I wouldn't say that. I saw a daughter desperate for her mother's affection and approval.

"Oh, god," you groan as you rub a hand over your face, completely mortified by his phrasing, but unable to find fault in it. "That's exactly what I mean!"

You're not the one who should be embarrassed by those messages.

"I'm the only one that is. Or will be. Trust me, she thinks everything she's ever said to me was righteous and justified, and you can't get blood from a stone." You flop your hand back onto the desk—a little harder than you meant to—and it makes your webcam shake.

You can already feel that mixture of hurt and anger rising in your throat and threatening to spill out. You quickly swallow it down and take a deep breath to regain control over your emotions. You're not going to have a breakdown on camera because of her. You're done letting her hurt you.

It's not righteous or justified, but I'm guessing you know that already.

"I do, but I appreciate the reassurance anyway." You give him a soft, grateful smile. Then your face falls as you glance back down to your keyboard. "What else did you see?"

Most of your text conversations with her are arguments. I suspect your phone conversations are similar.

"They are," you confirm without hesitation. "I don't think we know how to communicate any other way."

But you're not the instigator, are you?

"No," you sigh heavily. "I do everything I can to avoid an argument because I'm just so tired of it, but it usually doesn't matter. She can always find fault with my tone or something I've said. And of course there's also the fact that I don't go to church, don't have an important career, haven't gotten married, and don't have or want children. You can imagine her disappointment."

I shudder to think.

What an exhausting, horrible woman.

"That she is," you can't help but laugh. Despite the heavy topic of conversation, his irritation on your behalf is endearing. "I hate calling her or answering the phone. And God forbid I need something! You'll note that when I needed money to keep my flat, I became a camgirl before I even thought about asking her for help."

I had noticed you never considered doing anything else. Then I read your messages and it wasn't difficult to understand why.

You try not to feel mortified once again at the reminder that he's seen those. Instead, you tell yourself that he saw them and he kept looking. They didn't disgust him or scare him off—from you anyway. Even after reading them, he still wanted you.

You truly understand now what he's always meant when he says he sees you. It's a very assuring, lovely thought.

"It turned out to be a wonderful decision, at least." You give the camera a coy smile in an attempt to lighten the mood.

I would have to agree. A very wonderful decision.

"She wouldn't have helped me anyway, so I knew it was pointless. The few times she did, she lorded it over me constantly. As if I should be forever in her debt because she paid for my university textbooks years ago."

Is that another reason you were so afraid to take my money? Or why you were worried about feeling as though you owed me?

"Huh…" You lean back in your chair as you mull THAT one over. You hadn't quite connected those dots yet, but now that he's pointed it out, you have always been bad at accepting any help or gifts. Every single one felt like it came with an unspoken expectation or debt of some kind that would be called upon later. Now you know why.

You briefly wonder what other sort of connections you'll make in the future. Because you're starting to realize there are still plenty of them left to be uncovered.

"I think that was part of it, certainly, but you have to admit, the circumstances were also a very big factor as to why I didn't want your money."

Of course. You thought I was trying to buy you.

"I absolutely did! And in a way, you were," you tease. "It was just my attention you were paying for."

I made no attempt to hide that what I wanted was you, but it really was a gift. I knew the money would give you the freedom to think about everything I said, and once you did, you could no longer ignore your mask. Then maybe you would finally rid yourself of it. I wanted that for you.

And I wanted to see what would become of you when your strings were cut.

"Well, are you pleased with your handiwork?"

Quite pleased. I'm enjoying seeing the real you and how beautifully you've flourished in the light, now that you're no longer hiding.

"I have flourished, haven't I? I feel at home in my own skin for the first time in my life." You arch your shoulders, stretching lazily as if to savor the truth of your statement, before resting your forearms on the desk. You look quite pleased with yourself as well. "For so long I've been afraid to peel back all those layers and confront what's underneath, but now that I'm finally realizing who I am and what I want, I can't stop picking. I like what's underneath."

So do I.

You deserve to be proud. You've been working very hard to find your truth.

A warmth radiates through your chest at his praise.

"I have." Then you smile sadly. "Unfortunately, the truth hasn't always been painless."

No. It's never that.

"But every second has been worth it to have this." You glance up at the camera and let the double meaning hang in the air.

I'm glad. And I would have to agree. Wholeheartedly.

After a hesitation, you say, "One of those painful truths was realizing that my mother probably had a big hand in making me what I am."

Darling, NO.

The only thing she had a hand in was making you feel ashamed of yourself or like you had to hide what you are. She tried to destroy something exquisite and she failed. You are what you are despite her.

Do you know why? It's because you're better than her. You always have been and she knows it. Why do you think she treats you the way she does? That woman is a monster and she doesn't deserve any part of you.

Your eyes immediately fill with tears as you read the chat box. No one's ever told you that before. You may have come to the same conclusion last night, but you had no idea how much you needed to hear it from someone else, so to speak. Now hearing it from him?

"God, David. I've never…" you trail off, your voice choked with emotion. It takes you a second to get control over yourself enough to continue. "Thank you. And you're right." You sniffle and quickly try to blink away the tears. Then with more force, you say, "I've endured her for too long. Thankfully, I never have to again. I blocked her number last night and I'm cutting her out of my life."

You did?

"I did. Once I realized there was nothing good there to hold onto, even the idea of removing her from my life brought me more peace and happiness than having her in it ever did."

Good. I hope it does.

"So far, so good." You give him a teary smile.

I'm sure that couldn't have been easy.

"It wasn't. Or at least the process of coming to that conclusion wasn't, but it was all far more anticlimactic than I thought it would be."

Is that why you sent me that message?

"Oh, god." Your face begins to burn with embarrassment as you remember texting him while more than a little tipsy. "Yes," you finally answer sheepishly while you glance up at the ceiling. 

Why are you embarrassed by that?

"Because, if I'm being honest, I was two and a half glasses of wine in when I sent that."

Were you now?

"I was. I knew it was the only way I would be able to cope with that whole process."

And did it help?

"I think it did. I got through it, anyway. I'm just glad that I didn't call or text her. God, that would have been a trainwreck." You glance suggestively up at the camera and lower your voice. "I have far less self-control when it comes to you, apparently."

You have no idea how much I enjoy hearing that.

"But we should both be grateful that I didn't send you anything messier than I already did."

I don't know, sounds intriguing.

"See, you're thinking about me sending you something sexy, but I'm worried about sending you something frantic and emotional," you laugh. "Which would have been far more likely given the circumstances."

Hmm. I see your point.

"So anticlimactic really was for the best all around. And it's done now."

Good riddance.

"Do you want to know the worst part, though?" This time there's a bitterness to your smile, and it doesn't meet your eyes. "Through all of this, I never stopped wanting her to love me. I tried so hard. I never stopped trying, but she did. A long time ago. She'll never be the mom that I want, just like I was never the daughter she wanted. I know that now and I've finally made peace with that reality. Plus, realizing I would never understand or get any sort of closure was another big catalyst for me to finally pull that trigger the way I did." Your face finally softens. "But I never would have confronted any of that if not for you."

You would have gotten there on your own. Eventually.

“Possibly. I was getting exhausted from it. To the point that everytime my phone rang, I considered tossing it out the window rather than answer it.”

I could make her life miserable, you know.

If you asked it of me.

"Tempting." You let out a chuckle and wipe away the remnants of a tear drying on your cheek. "But I'd rather her not be in my life at all, even through you. I'm making a clean cut so she can no longer use me to build herself up, and for her that will be a worse punishment than anything you could think of."

I don't know. I have a very vivid imagination.

But I will leave it be unless you change your mind.

"I do appreciate the offer." You smile gratefully. "That's twice now you've given me the opportunity for vengeance."

It won't be the last, should you ever feel the need for it.

"Is it strange that I find the thought of you wanting to make someone miserable for hurting me sweet and endearing?"

No.

I would hurt anyone you asked me to, even if all they did was annoy you.

"You would?"

I would. Without hesitation. For you.

"Fuck," you gasp as you squirm in your seat, suddenly very turned on. "I really like the thought of that."

Do you?

"I do." 

How much?

"This much." You bite your lip as you bring your hands to your top. Then you begin to slowly unbutton your blouse. The heat that started between your thighs rises to your belly. This is finally happening.

There's a pause.

You're sure?

"Yes. I'm so sure you didn't even have to ask." Your fingers continue to methodically work each loop as you speak, driven on by determination. "I'm done hesitating. I want this, David. I wanted it last night before I got interrupted, and I wanted it this afternoon."

You’ve found closure for so much of your past—all the ties to your old life, your social media, your friends, your job, your mother—and you're done looking back. All you want now is to move forward. After all the emotional turmoil you went through to get to this point, all you want is to fall into him.

Once you’ve finished, your top spills open, revealing the cups of your bra and your bare stomach on the screen. The chat box sits, unmoving, and you realize he must be watching very carefully. So you slide the fabric down your arms, seductively arching your chest towards the camera to make a show of it, until it comes free. You toss it to the side without looking. Then you're left in nothing but your bra and skirt.

"I want you to see me. All of me. I want to show you what you're missing, hiding from me behind that screen. You could be here with your hands and your mouth on me, instead, you know. I want you to think about that, and I want you to touch yourself while you do." You look directly into the webcam with all of the desire, need, and heat that has been building up inside of you for the past week. "Because I plan to as well. Again."

You have no idea how much I’ve resisted doing all of that. It's taken every ounce of my self-control to resist you.

"Why can't we just give in then?" You beg for the camera. "Why can't we just skip this part? Come here now. Tonight. Touch me instead."

You aren't ready for that yet.

"I strongly disagree!" You scoff, almost offended at the implication that you don't know what you want.

Besides, I get to see you like this first, remember? I get to see you in a way no one else ever has. I've earned it.

"You have," you sigh in acceptance. You knew it was a long shot, but it was worth a try. "Don't worry, I'll give it to you. Not just because I'm too fucking horny to argue with you properly right now, but also because I said I would, and I'm still going to enjoy letting go for you. Just know that it's a poor substitute for you. Because what I really want is to hear your voice as you tell me how good it feels to fuck me. I want to hear the way you moan and gasp when you lose control of yourself inside of me. I want to know your face when you do. Because I want you, David."

It takes a moment for him to reply. You're aware you'll never get to know exactly how he responded to you. You'll never get to see the look on his face or hear the sounds he made as you said those things to him. But, you think with no small amount of smugness, you can take a very good guess.

Then you'll have me. Soon.

Until then, show me what I'll have.

Take off the rest of your clothes. I want to see you.

You stand up from your chair to do as he instructed. The angle of the camera means your face is no longer in view, and it reminds you so much of your streams that it's momentarily jarring. But once you unzip your skirt, you bend forward to push it down your hips, and the sight of your own face brings you back to the moment.

The one where you're stripping for your stalker slash blackmailer, and it's the sexiest, most romantic thing that's ever happened to you.

Your skirt hits the floor with a soft thump, and you step out of it as you nudge it to the side with your foot. If you remove one more thing, it will be the most he's ever seen of you. Now each step forward is not only new, but is one step closer to getting what you really want: Him.

The thought is thrilling.

So thrilling that you waste no time. You hook your thumbs into the thin elastic of your panties and slip them—slowly, inch by inch to continue teasing him—to your knees, baring your lower half to him.

You stand there for a few seconds, letting him take it all in. That's what he wanted, after all. To see all of you. For you to show him all of you. Every moment between you has been leading to this, and you won't deny him now.

When you sit back down, you slide your panties the rest of the way off. They get thoughtlessly added to the growing, scattered pile. Then you stay there on your repurposed dining room chair, bare skin on wood, and you wait.

As you do, you're very careful to keep your legs closed. It wouldn't do to rush this and give everything away all at once. Especially not when you currently hold all of the power. He may have earned this, but so have you. And you’re going to relish it for as long as you can.

Except there's still nothing new in the chat box. You tell yourself he's probably just settling in and enjoying the view, but the silence is unnerving. You have no way of knowing what he's thinking right now, if he's even enjoying it, and that makes you feel exposed. You’ve gotten so comfortable with the back and forth—of getting some feedback—that not getting it is a sobering reminder that you can't read his expressions or hear the tone of his voice. All he really is to you is text on a screen.

“David?” You call out hesitantly.

Another minute passes and you start to wonder if he's intentionally trying to make you squirm. He does enjoy it, after all. Or perhaps he recognizes how the balance of power has shifted, and he's trying to take some back for himself. It does seem like a very David thing to do.

Then, without warning, your mind offers up the possibility that he's disappointed. That you aren't what he was expecting and now he’s—

God, you’re beautiful. I knew you would be.

Relief courses through you, alleviating the weight that was settling in your chest.

Or maybe he was just taking his pants off, too.

I want to see the rest of you.

That's all the reassurance you need to banish that momentary doubt completely.

You reach behind yourself to undo the clasp of your bra. Rather than remove it, you hug the material loosely to your chest and give the camera a coy glance.

“You mean like this?” You tease as your fingers play with the straps.

Yes.

Take it off.

You slowly lower your arms, letting it fall away from your breasts. And just like that, you're naked on screen—something you never thought would happen. Something you swore would never happen. But there you are, running the tips of your fingers enticingly up the tops of your thighs and over your bare hips. For him.

Seeing you like this was worth every second of waiting. You're stunning. Just perfect.

“Thank you, David,” you say softly, touched by his compliments. It’s sweet, but if he keeps this up, you’ll be feeling more affectionate than horny.

You have no idea how much I want to be the one touching you right now.

That's better.

"Oh, but I think I know exactly what it's like to want you to be the one touching me. Do you have any idea how much I've fantasized about your hands on me since you sent me that picture? God, if I hadn't been at work, I would have made myself come so many times."

That's why I didn't want you distracted.

"I wasn't distracted this afternoon," you say in a husky voice.

No you weren't. 

Did it feel good to finally give in?

"Yes." You bite your lip as you remember the way that growing tension in your belly finally gave when you moaned his name. "It felt so good to respond to you."

Did you think about me touching you like you wanted?

"God, yes. In every way I could think of."

Where did you imagine me touching you? Show me where you like to be touched.

You run a finger from your jaw, down the column of your neck, and then trace along your collarbone. "If you kiss me here, I'll be weak in your arms. But if I feel your tongue here, you'll have me begging."

Then I'll have you weak and begging.

Is that all?

"I was getting there." You smile playfully. “So impatient.”

You continue to run your fingers down your sternum, letting your knuckles skim against the swell of your breasts. You stop and move to cup the soft flesh with your hands.

“I want your lips and your hands here,” you moan as you start to gently massage yourself. Your nipples harden under your palms as you rub over them, causing a pleasant shiver to snake its way through you. Then you arch into your own hands as you think about what it would be like to have his hands here instead. Whether his touch would be gentle like this, or harsh as he wrenches a shudder from the sensitive peaks.

I'm going to enjoy doing just that. Especially if you'll be this responsive for me.

“More so,” you vow, breathlessly, "because it would be you. Are you touching yourself now?"

Yes.

“Fuck,” you hiss. "Are you imagining that it's me instead?"

You know I am.

"Good because I want it to be me. I'm aching to put my hands on you, too.” Your hands lower from your breasts to brush across your stomach. “Where do you like to be touched, David?"

By you? There's nowhere I wouldn't want your hands.

Intriguing, but you know he can give you more than that. "Then where should I start?"

There’s a brief pause that almost feels like hesitation.

My face.

"Your face?” You blink in mild surprise. You weren't expecting that answer, but now you understand the hesitation. He was preparing to admit something vulnerable to you. “That's very intimate."

Is it? Maybe that's why I've never liked it before, but I think I will if you do it.

Despite how sexy all of this is, your heart flutters at the sweetness of that line. He wants intimacy with you, not just the sex. You're reminded of what he said to you yesterday: ‘I want you to be mine in every way it's possible to want someone.’

“I like the thought of that.” You lean in towards the camera, letting your eyelids go heavy as you lower your voice to something both seductive and tender. "Do you want me to cup your cheeks and stroke my fingers over you as we kiss?"

Yes.

"Then maybe I could…” You drop to a half whisper, “kiss along your jaw as well."

It's like you read my mind.

There's a pleased flush in your chest that creeps onto your face as the hint of a smile. "Do you have facial hair?"

No.

"Good to know." You imagine your lips moving over smooth, tanned skin. You wonder if it will be soft, or a little rough with age.

Do you prefer beards?

"I don't have a preference. What looks good depends on the person." You tilt your head curiously. “Have you ever tried growing a beard?”

Once. It didn't suit me.

“Then I'd prefer you without one.”

You're assembling these new, small pieces together with your existing mental image of him. It's like staring at a magic eye puzzle—if you look hard enough, you can almost swear you see the shape of him. But then you blink and it's gone.

You need more.

“Where would I touch you next?”

My chest.

"Is that so?"

Yes.

"Please tell me you don't shave your chest, too. Promise me you have chest hair."

I promise I have chest hair.

"Oh, thank god,” you sigh with relief. “Because you have hair on the backs of your hands and wrists and it's so fucking sexy. I can only imagine how sexy the rest of it is."

You like that, do you?

“Yes.”

Then I think you’ll be pleased.

"Christ, I like the sound of that.” You squirm a bit in your seat. “Where else do you like to be touched?"

My cock.

You nearly choke on a whimper. 

Up till now, this felt like an exploration—or as much as it could be with only you on the screen. You were expecting a buildup of teasing and touching and sharing before you both truly let go. Instead, he sent you reeling. Again. He must be getting impatient.

As you stare at that line, there's a painful ache of arousal between your legs. You unconsciously grind yourself down onto your chair to alleviate some of it. The seat is going to be a mess by the time you're done, you think.

"I plan to touch you there a lot."

Yes you will.

"Are you circumcised?" You can't help the curiosity that seeps into your voice.

I'm not going to describe my cock to you.

"David!" You pout at your screen. "I'm not asking for numbers, here. I just want to know what it would be like to stroke you."

And you'll find out eventually.

“That's not fair.” You are completely naked, after all.

I already told you it's not supposed to be fair.

“Yes, yes, you’re very mysterious,” you huff in disappointment.

Like I said, you’ll find out eventually.

“Soon, I hope.”

Soon.

Now I want you to go back to showing me where you want my hands.

“Do you?” You lean back in your chair. “You want more to think about while you're touching yourself?”

That's exactly what I want.

“Hmm, how can I ever say no to that?” Then you lean even further back so you can caress over the curve of your hips. “You can run your hands along here as you feel your way over my body. It will feel lovely, but I'll enjoy it even more if you grab me instead. Because I want to feel how much you need me.”

That's good because I want to grab you by the hips to hold you still as I slam my cock into you.

“Fuck, David!” You cry out. Your hands reflexively grip and squeeze your own hips at the mental image, your fingers digging almost painfully into the bone. Your sex clenches in anticipation, hoping you’ll get what he said would come next.

If he was there with you and not still on the other end of the call. God, you wish he was there.

After that, you also know the teasing and buildup has come to an end. You can't hold back any longer, and he's made it very clear that neither can he.

"Do you know where else I liked to be touched?" Before he can reply, you finally tilt your hips and spread your legs wide, exposing your sex for the camera. You settle your knees on either side of the seat of the chair with your calves tucked against the wooden legs.

You like to think, if he were there in person, he would have been opening his mouth to answer as the words died on his lips. Instead, you imagine his fingers frozen over his keyboard as he gets to see the part of you he's been waiting for. You're certain he's been going slow—stroking himself enough for it to feel good, but not so much that he loses control. Not until he gets what he wants. Not until he's gotten this.

You end the exploration of your body by reaching between your thighs. Then you cup your mound and begin teasing your fingers along your folds. God, you're already so wet. "Right here. Especially by a hand that knows what I need."

Show me what you need.

You plunge a finger into your entrance and moan at the intrusion. You can't remember the last time you did this. Usually you focus on just your clit with your fingers or your vibrator, eager for the release and not caring much about indulging in the process. You didn't have a reason for it other than getting off to relieve some tension.

Now, as you slide your finger out and draw it over that sensitive nub, you want it back inside of you. You want to be full as you think of him. So you press two inside of you instead.

"I want to know what you look like so badly," you gasp as your fingers begin to work your cunt.

Do you?

"I do. And I want to know what you feel like."

You will, that I promise you.

"God," you whine and slip a third finger into your opening. "This feels so good. I haven't fingered myself in a while."

Why not?

"I haven't wanted to. I just wanted a quick orgasm."

Then I continue to keep my promise, don't I? I made you want to.

"Yes! Christ, I want to," you gasp and rock your hips up to meet your hand. "I want to touch myself like this for you. I love knowing that you're watching me, David, and that you're getting off to it. But more than that, I love pretending that it's you."

If you're pretending that it's me, you need to go deeper because I intend to fuck you properly.

You slam your fingers into yourself as far as they will go, and your head falls back with a cry. “God, I want you to fuck me. Please!”

While I grab your pretty hips and make you take every bit of me?

“Fuck! Yes, exactly like that!” You whine. “I can't believe you're going to make us wait for this! Because you don't have to. You could have me now."

I could.

I could have you however I wanted, couldn't I?

You glance down at the camera, your eyes heavy with lust. "Would you like that?"

You're not answering the question.

"That's because I know better than to say yes," you pant. Your fingers are still working inside of you, stretching you in a way that is both satisfying and not nearly enough. It's driving you crazy.

What does that mean?

"We both know that if I bare my throat to you, you won't be able to resist ripping it out."

I would never hurt you unless you wanted it.

"I believe that you would never want to, but I see you, too. You couldn't help it.” Your hand slows, and you tilt your head as you consider your computer screen. “Could you?"

There's a moment of stillness from the chat box, and you briefly wonder if you've upset him, even though you know you're right. You know there's something about him that’s dangerous and predatory. He admitted as much himself. And it’s not like you feel the need to be overly careful or afraid of him. The thought doesn't bother you. You simply know that you can never tempt him by actually offering yourself up as helpless prey. Or he might just get a taste for it. 

Because you can love a predator as long as you never forget, for even a second, that it's still a predator—no matter how much it shows you its belly and loves you back.

You know all of that. Instinctively. Logically.

And yet.

You do so love being his favorite little prey.

"It doesn't scare me, David," you say quietly to break the silence.

No?

"No. Quite the opposite." You draw your fingers out of yourself to rub over your clit with a moan. "It intrigues me."

I know it does.

Why do you think I’ve done all of this? I knew, from the moment I saw you, that you could want what I am.

“And what are you, David?”

Darling, did you really think I would answer that question? Where's the fun in that?

“But I want to know.” Your fingers speed back up against your bundle of nerves. “I want to know everything about you.”

You will.

“And I want to know every secret you keep from the rest of the world.”

Don't worry, you’ll know me completely.

Eventually.

His words feel like a promise and a threat. You shiver with pleasure.

You shift down far enough in your chair to get a better angle. Then you bring your knees up and plant your feet wide against the edge of your desk. You know this has the added bonus of giving him an even better view of your opening. It also gives him a hint of what it might look like when you finally lay back and spread your legs for him.

"Can you see how wet I am?" You drag your fingers over your clit with a gasp. “Can you see how much I want you?”

Yes. I can see exactly how eager you are.

"Good. As you're stroking yourself, I want you to think about burying your cock right here.” You move your other hand between your thighs. Without hesitation, you plunge your fingers into your entrance again. Now you’re pleasuring your clit while also getting that enticing fullness you ache for, and it feels fucking incredible. The sight of both of your hands moving on your screen only adds to the indulgence.

As if I could think about anything else.

"I wish I was watching you right now instead of myself."

You want to watch me stroke my cock to you?

Your whole body shudders, and you bite your lip to stifle a whimper. "Yes! I want to watch the way your hand slides over your cock and how it throbs and twitches in your fist. I want to see what I do to you."

What you do to me…

You drive me insane. I've never needed to fuck someone like I need to fuck you.

"Jesus!" You wail as your hips jerk forward, and your knees start to shake. “David!”

That's right. I'm going to make you sob my name.

"If you keep talking like that, I'm not going to last long,” you pant.

Good. I want to see you let go for me.

“But I want you to enjoy this!”

You think I'm not enjoying this?

I finally got to see how responsive you are to my words and hear the sounds you make when you're like this. This is everything I wanted. Better, even. Now I can't imagine how much better it will be in person.

When you're full of my cock instead of your fingers.

“Fuck!” You’re driving those fingers in and out of your cunt with purpose now. You're no longer giving him a show. This is you feeling your orgasm closing in on you and scrambling for it, desperate and needy.

Fuck, that's good. Look at you. You're so god-damned beautiful as you fuck yourself for me.

"God, yes!" You gasp as you arch in your chair. "For you."

Only me. Only I can see you like this.

Say it.

"Only you, David."

That's my girl.

Now you're going to come for me.

“I'm so close,” you whine.

And I'm going to come as I imagine your tight little cunt.

“David,” you gasp, barely able to speak now through your ragged breathing. “Please.”

It's all I've been able to think about for months. It's going to feel so fucking good to finally get to fuck you and come with my cock buried inside of you. And I'm going to do it over and over again until I physically can't anymore.

Do you understand? I NEED you. Fuck!

“Yes,” you barely whisper. You're not even sure the microphone picked it up, but you have nothing more to give. The tension building inside of you is becoming nearly suffocating as you read every word. You feel you might drown in it before you ever find release.

As you continue seeking your own satisfaction, a photo pops up in the chat.

At the top of the photo, there’s the edge of a laptop keyboard, which is sat on top of a very ornate and expensive looking wooden desk. But that's not the point of the photo. No. That's not what strangles your breath in your throat or sets a flame in your chest that licks at your cheeks.

The polished surface of the desk is streaked and splattered with come. His come.

You imagine him standing in front of his computer, urgently stroking himself until he's shuddering out his orgasm and spending himself across the surface. All while his eyes never leave you on the screen.

You made him do that.

Your hand speeds up—the circles your fingers are rubbing over your clit are becoming almost brutal and painful, even as pleasure rakes up your belly and your whole body starts to tense. You're so close. So fucking close. You didn't know it was possible to balance on that edge for so long without falling in either direction.

You can't tear your eyes away from that ruined surface or get the thought of him fucking his own fist out of your head as you keep chasing oblivion and—

This is what you do to me.

Oh.

You bury your fingers into your cunt just as your walls clench down around them, and you come undone for the second time that day. To him.

You open your mouth to cry out, to wail his name as part of your release, but it gets choked to nothing more than a thought as your climax slams into you so hard that it knocks the wind out of you. You throw your head back from the force of it. As you try to ride each pulse of ecstasy out against your fingers, the muscles in your legs tense. Then you're involuntarily pushing against your desk with your feet.

The front two legs of the chair lift off the floor.

For a brief moment, your stomach lurches and you think you're going to topple backwards. Instead, you stay like that, hovering between stability and free fall, letting a wave of fear and adrenaline wash over you. Perhaps that should have ruined this, but the additional sensations only heighten and sharpen every breathless shudder until all of your nerve endings thrum. You’ve never felt so painfully, blissfully, alive.

Once you're fully spent, you carefully let the chair fall forward, returning to its proper position on all four legs. Then you bring one of your own legs down to plant a foot onto the carpet to ground yourself and stop that feeling of weightlessness still lingering within you.

God, you're stunning. The most exquisite thing I've ever seen. You were wonderful for me.

You sit there, bonelessly draped back in your seat, sweaty, your arms hanging at your sides, with your chest heaving as you struggle to catch your breath. And you try to smile for him anyway because, between his praise and your orgasm, you swear you’re glowing.

But you didn't scream my name.

You let out a breathless sound of protest. “Couldn't. I tried. Seeing what I do to you…it was too good, holy shit." You swallow hard and shift forward into a more comfortable position in the chair. "But I thought it, David. You were the only thing I knew while I came for you."

Mmmm, that's very good. But you're still going to do better next time. I’ll make sure of it.

"With you?" You ask hopefully.

With me.

FOR me.

Your face burns, and there's a weak twinge of arousal between your legs. Even though it's a mere shadow of what you’ve already experienced today, you’re amazed it's even possible after that.

…You still don't even know what he looks like, you think.

God, he's dangerous.

Won't you?

"Yes," you moan. "I promise I will scream your name until my voice gives out, as long as you're the one coaxing it out of me."

Yes you will.

You whimper. "When?"

Soon.

There are some things I need to take care of first. Then I will send for you.

Your heart begins to pound with nerves and anticipation. This is really happening. "How long?"

Only a few days.

A grunt of shock is ripped from your throat. "Days?!"

Now who's eager?

"I can't help it," you purr, softening at his teasing as you run your hand along your still trembling inner thigh. "I want to see you. And I want you inside of me."

You'll have that.

I'LL have that.

"How many days?" You're almost afraid to ask.

I'll have a car pick you up Monday evening.

There's a heavy drop of disappointment in your stomach. "That's three days…" 

Enough time to have all of my obligations done and taken care of. I want to be able to focus entirely on you once I have you. Like you deserve.

“But that's so long!” It's taking everything in you not to pout. You realize now you’ve been interpreting “soon” to mean you might finally get to see him, say, tomorrow. Or maybe even still tonight. It never occurred to you that it might be longer and that you’d have to wait for him.

I know, darling. I don't like it anymore than you do. And I would never make you wait if it wasn't important, but I have promises to keep.

“Alright,” you sigh. You find that you're, once again, reminding yourself that you're an adult. You can be patient.

And now that you're thinking about it, this gives you plenty of time to prepare as well. You don't have promises to keep, but you can certainly think of a few appointments you should make. When the time comes, you want everything to be perfect.

Besides, after that you’ll never have to wait again. Will you?

“No, David.” You lean forward as you stare into the camera. “Once I have you, I intend to never wait again. Because once I have you, you’re mine.”

That's my girl.

Later that night, when you go to sleep, you take your laptop with you and leave it open on your dresser, facing the bed. On your side table, you prop your phone up into its charging stand and make sure it's positioned just right as well. You want to give him two angles to enjoy this time. Then you sprawl out on top of your covers, still completely naked.

On your phone, you carefully type out, “I hope you didn't think the show was over. Because I still have more I can give you, and it would be such a shame to waste it. Enjoy, David. X”

As you hit send, you reach into the top drawer of your nightstand and pull out your vibrator. Then you settle back, and—with a desire that feels nearly insatiable now—you work several more orgasms from your clit while you gasp and moan and scream his name.

All while you know he's watching.

A/N: See? Who needs therapy when you have fanfiction?? 😌 (Christine please ignore the 🚩💕) I debated about whether or not to write a phone call with her mom, but I realized I don't actually want to give her a voice. Because this story isn't about her or even the reader's past. It's about healing from trauma, moving forward as the worst version of yourself, and falling in fucked up love with a stalker/serial killer. 😌

[apexulansis]

WHICH FLOWER USED IN VICTORIAN FLOWER LANGUAGE ARE YOU?

tagged by: nobody, yoinked it

EGLANTINE - “ I wound to heal ”

Many people may say you’re pessimistic, but you say you just have an accurate view of the world. Well, alright, that may be true, but the fact that your world has been so hard doesn’t mean it will always be that way. Stop sabotaging your happiness because you feel like you don’t deserve it or because, “oh well, it won’t last, anyway.” The things that you’ve gone through aren’t all you are. Your relationships have been unstable and you want, more than anything, someone who will stay. Honesty is very important to you, and you have no trouble dishing it out. This is helpful in that your friends know they can come to you for your truthful opinions, but not every situation requires you to be blunt. It’s likely that you have religious trauma, and even more likely that you’re queer. It’s almost a certainty that you have mommy and/or daddy issues.

others under the cut

AZALEA - “ Take care of yourself ”

Oh boy, that’s gifted kid burnout if I’ve ever seen it. You chose to go into academia, and you enjoy learning, but at this point you have to force the dedication you have. You have niche interests and the way you show love is by sharing knowledge. You may look outwardly like you have your shit together, but inside you are in emotional turmoil. Take some time for self-care, it’s not actually effective to stress about everything, you’re only making things harder on yourself. I promise you, it’s okay to make mistakes. It’s also okay to rely on other people and let people in. You’re not a machine, you can’t keep on going endlessly. When you were a child, did people often “compliment” you for being so mature? Those weren’t compliments, you had to grow up too soon. Get in touch with your inner child, I swear that it’s healing. The people that are meant for you will be there when you're messy. I believe in you.

RED CAMELLIA - “ You are a flame in my heart ”

Wow, you are a force to be reckoned with! When you’re motivated, there’s absolutely nothing that can stop you. Sometimes, you can get a little wrapped up in yourself, but overall you are so passionate about other people. If you’re interested in something, you’ll take it to extremes and learn everything you possibly can about it. You can talk for ages and there’s constantly a million thoughts, ideas, and opinions running through your head. You tend to see the world in black and white; it wouldn’t hurt to balance your viewpoints out a bit, but also, never lose your strong sense of morality. You’ve definitely been constantly told that you’re “too much” – don’t listen to them. You’ll find your people who love all the parts of you, and especially your zest for life. You might have trouble balancing out your emotions, and you definitely feel everything at an intensity that would stagger others. You also probably have a great distrust of authority.

[katyspersonal]

Do you think that there are characters who stand for absolute justice or absolute evil in bb？🤔

This is a hard question! Almost everyone in Bloodborne is morally grey in terms of motivation, I'd say! In terms of intention. For example, Alfred is a religious fanatic that beats Annalise into a bloody mess in """righteous""" quest, but in his head he is doing a "good" thing as he is convinced Vilebloods are just bad and it is "not fair" that Logarius has to suffer because of one instead of being buried. Micolash has done uncountable amount of horrible things, but in his head humanity was "not worth it" anyway and evolution and knowledge is worthy of any sacrifice. In fact, it is actually a reasonable assumption considering the setting and all the cosmic horrors Byrgenwerth scholars have learned! Suspicious Beggar is literally just trying to survive, trapped between being not a full human neither a no-longer-sapien, "innocent" beast. You can see why this is so complicated...

The bad guys

I'd say Valtr is the closest to being 'absolute evil'! Vermin is something that could only be seen during keeping his rune burnt into mind, but every Hunter defeated with Impurity in mind + every boss defeated with a League confederate drops Vermin. We thus could assume that virtually everyone has Vermin... or does not, because lore calls it an "illusion". But regardless of interpretation, Valtr is an absolute madman that keeps pulling people into a crazy cultish activity to exterminate all life. But even then, it is closer to 'May Chaos take the world' issue than to simply revelling in relentless murder. Even Valtr tries to help the world, albeit by cleansing it from the life itself sdhfhds Fromsoft is very good at writing insanity, which by definition can't be true evil.

Amelia is a good candidate for being true evil person - maybe long after Laurence's corruption and death, the head clerics willingly exist on borrowed time! They know the blood is not as efficient as it is preached, they know they are not helping Yharnam's citizens, they know they're feeding on what the decaying city still has to offer, they know their end will come sooner or later but they choose to be selfish and use it up while they can. But even then, how can we be sure Amelia was not indoctrinated and brainwashed since childhood and is not stuck in the idea that such existence is "honorable" and DOES something? How can we know whether she has a successor? In my headcanons, she actually became aware and deliberately did not leave a successor (and ate the superiors that pulled her into all this, actually!). So the corrupt system ends on her!

And, of course, Flora / Moon Presence. The one who benefits from the vicious cycle of blood and hunt, yet also somehow from people that attempt evolution through cosmic knowledge. It is just hard to judge a deity from the standpoint of human morals.... But she is more or less a leech on humanity, especially on its suffering, despair and blood. I think I'll count her too... I guess.

The good guys

This one is so much more simple! We have the little girls and their mother Viola, who are easily just a simple family that wants to live! Gascoigne might be more complicated, especially since he's falling for blood-drunkness and paranoia. He announces he won't take any chances with people even if they are not beasts yet! Gilbert, Lonely Old Dear and Arianna also are probably just good people that want to live and do their thing. (Narrow-Minded Man not so much because he is a judgemental asshole that will poison people's daily lives outside of the hunt xd)

Simon certainly stands for justice. He wants the truth to be uncovered, and for the Nightmare to lose its fuel so people do not have to suffer for generations for the sins of their ancestors! I think Henriett is a good girl too - her items and boss summons imply that she used to work with the Healing Church but detracted. However, she is still a hunter, fashioning herself as one of the old ones (this is what 'default' Hunter set is). And she only kills Amelia after she becomes a beast despite her gripe with the Healing Church, right?

And, of course....

According to Miyazaki, Iosefka and especially the Imposter are good and heroic! I can absolutely see the intention. Iosefka is simply a good doctor that tries her best, and she also notably cleans the blood she gives from the blood cells. I've had a theory on how it is useful and very responsible, but additionally, since she is a white doctor, meddling with the holy blood this way should be... heretical? Iosefka disobeys dogmas of her own institution because "cleansed" blood will be better and with less side effects. Fauxsefka, on the other hand, is turning people into Kin so they physically can't become beasts instead. Her kind of good, again, deals with insanity. For an average person, what she's doing makes no sense and she appears to be evil doctor experimenting on poor people... But in the bigger scheme of lore in its entirety, she has a good point. Beasthood stems from humanity... Remove the humanity from humans - and they are safe! She even says this herself, that "we should transcend our stupidity" or something. Think of Micolash, but... kinder? Or even Valtr, but kinder. xd Miyazaki was right that what makes her a hero and not a villain is hard to understand, but I do!

Thanks for the ask! It was interesting to think about! I love philosophy!

[flipping-the-coin]

Ratchet, in your last post you mention orion having spark merge injuries. 1 Can you please explain that a bit more in depth, how did orion get hurt spark merging? 2 what kind of injuries did he have? 3 where they Megatron's fault? 4 what other kinds of injuries can come from sparkplay? 5 how do you fix those kinds of injuries? 6 are those kind of injuries common?

𝔉𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔬𝔣𝔣𝔦𝔠𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔪𝔞𝔩 𝔖𝔱𝔢𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔡: ℜ𝔞𝔱𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔱

ℭ𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔩 ℑ𝔞𝔠𝔬𝔫 -

ℭ𝔶𝔟𝔢𝔯𝔱𝔯𝔬𝔫𝔦𝔞𝔫 ℭ𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔠𝔦𝔩 ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯𝔰 -

𝔊𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔫𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔇𝔦𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔦𝔬𝔫 -

If the core of your questioning didn't revolve around Pax, I would have told you to go ask your caretaker about the details of merging. I may be a doctor, but I am not a pediatrician nor do I specialize in the more sensitive parts of the frame. However, in this instance I am willing to answer your queries. I will begin with a bit of an explanation of spark merging as a whole.

Spark merging is, in simple terms, exactly what it claims to be in the name. The spark is the power source that keeps the Cybertronian frame functioning, and it is tied so deeply to the rest of the frame that it often physically reacts to emotions an individual is experiencing, much like an engine would have varying levels of performability based on environment. If you are religious, then the spark is the essence of a Cybertronian and it dictates our emotions rather than the processor having control over such reactions. With all this said, the spark is highly sensitive and very delicate when exposed to another of its kind. Merging sparks can have many practical uses, but it is often used as a sign of trust largely because of how dangerous it can be if one is not careful. For this reason, some frame types are recommended to avoid merging with other specific frame types for both parties' safety. Too big a difference in size and frequency can cause pain for one or both parties. And frame size can also play a factor in potential danger since a larger frame will have larger clamps and hinges.

To keep it nice and simple, the clamps are what keep a pair locked together during merging so that nothing can possibly harm them from the outside during the delicate procedure that is a merge. There is a reason most try to remain within their frame range when picking partners. Clamps can break, sparks can go out of sync and cause severe damage, charge levels can be too high for a smaller frame and burn them out, and honestly the list goes on. Orion's injuries stemmed from incompatibility issues not just in spark, but also in frame.

Megatron is fraggin huge, and Orion, while not exactly small, is dwarfed by him in almost every regard. I don't care to know the details of Orion's dalliance in Kaon prior to the war, but eventually he came to me with several broken hinges and one torn clamp from his fling with Megatron. By Primus, I wished it stayed a fling. I did make attempts to use his injuries as a way to show him that continued interactions with Megatron of the variety he favored were damaging.

Of course, he didn't care for my concerns. I was punished severely once he found out about Orion's interactions with Megatron.

In short, his injuries were relatively minor and they absolutely were caused by Megatron. I've already listed several potential outcomes of poor interfacing, but some of the most common injuries are easy enough to fix. Broken hinges need to be pushed back into place and held there with medical grade cast tape that wears away naturally. Torn clamps are stitched closed and medically made inactive until they fully heal. Burnt out sensors and other internals may require surgery to fully address, but often it is enough to just slap the patient with boosters for a few deca-cycles. Dents and whatnot just require a quick pop out and buffing.

The more serious problems such as spark chamber cracks require surgery and bedrest, but such things are rare. Most of the time, foolish younglings keeping beat up in their efforts to have a good time recover quickly.

I hope that answers your questions.

𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔪𝔞𝔩 𝔖𝔱𝔢𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔡 - ℜ𝔞𝔱𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔱

[basicsofislam]

ISLAM 101: ISLAM AND OTHER RELIGIONS: DIALOGUE: Part 9

Interreligious Dialogue: Part 2

Muslims should not be the party that avoids dialogue; they should advocate that dialogue should be carried out for the common interests of human beings. However, if the other party ceases to see it as a religious issue and attempts to use it as an instrument for the political and economic interests of the world of Christianity, instead of losing time, attempts should be focused on the youth that inclines towards atheism. That is, the dialogue should be carried out with the youth.

After these explanations, let's deal with the issue on the outline and without any prejudice:

There are several dimensions of such a dialogue carried out with good intentions. One of them is cooperation against negativeness which is the common enemy of all religions. What is negativeness? Let's list some of them that we recall now: - Atheism reaching great dimensions in Europe -The disappearance of honor as a result of the ethnic crisis and waning of the family life -The commitment of all kinds of corruption, cruelty, and betrayal for the sake of worldly interests as a result of the declining of the belief in the hereafter - Spread of alcohol and drug addiction increasingly as an indication of the lack of nourishment of the hearts and souls - The attempts to fill in the purposelessness with some aberrant ideas like Satanism - And the anarchy that disturbs everybody. Bloodshed by the robot people who do not know who they kill and why. The flow of money to the arms network instead of to the peace and welfare of human beings.

The justification of being friends with the People of the Book is presented clearly as follows:

Now, let's think like this: Why should people oppose the cooperation of people from different religions and their determination of a common strategy against common enemies and problems, some of which we listed above? Only the people who have the negative ideas we mentioned should oppose such cooperation, shouldn't they?

This question always strains my mind and I can never associate it with the reality that Islam is universal.

Two verses relating to this issue:

The Religion before Allah is Islam (submission to His will). (Chapter Aal-e-Imran, 19)

This day have I perfected your religion for you, completed my favor upon you, and have chosen for you Islam as your religion. (Chapter al-Maeda, 3)

Our Prophet (PBUH) is the prophet of the end of time and Islam is the only guide of humanity till the Day of Judgment. So isn't it our duty to convey the principles of this religion to humanity? Cant the dialogue we have mentioned be an opportunity to inform the followers of other religions who come together to heal the wounds of the community about Islam?

For instance, let's talk about Christianity: Through such a dialogue, either they will accept and take the belief of oneness from us, or we will incline towards their belief of trinity. Have we got any doubts about our belief to avoid dialogue? Since it is a reality that today a lot of Christian clergymen abandon trinity and embrace oneness, isn't it more reasonable than the other party should avoid dialogue? Let's leave aside the speculations and wrong theories and have a look at the reality:

During the period when there was a great rate of unemployment and when backwardness prevailed, a lot of workers immigrated to Europe, especially to Germany. How many of them abandoned Islam and became Christians? There are almost no Muslims becoming Christians in statistics except for a few love affairs. Some of our workers who went to Europe for the first time were affected by the Western Culture and indulged in alcoholism, debauchery in the too permissive environment but they managed to maintain their beliefs. The following generation realized the gravity of the situation and struggled to return to their selves. Now the situation is quite heartwarming and hopeful.

Not the religion but the lifestyle of the West affected our citizens who immigrated to Europe; not the churches but the pubs of the West attracted them then. Apart from the mistakes and weaknesses of our citizens, the following reality was obvious: in Europe not Christianity but debauchery was prevalent.

In today's Europe, there hasn't been any positive progress in terms of Christianity. In some universities, up to 90% of the youth (a grave rate) become atheists. Let alone building new churches, the old churches especially those with no historical values are pulled down one by one and transformed into office premises and some of them into mosques in Europe. Now we are faced with a Europe in which drugs have replaced alcohol. It is contrary to reality to fear interreligious dialogue in the name of Islam in such a medium. If we see any harm in terms of the interests of our nation and state and feel a secret plan, it is natural not to ignore it and take necessary measures. It is something different. According to Ahl-us Sunnah belief, If there are ninety-nine proofs showing a person's unbelief and only one proof showing his belief, the mufti gives his decision in accordance with the only one proof. The following hadith of the Messenger of Allah (PBUH) is spine-chilling and calls all of us to show maximum attention: Any person who called his brother an unbeliever (has in fact done an act by which this unbelief) would return to one of them. If it were so, as he asserted (then the unbelief of man was confirmed but if it was not true), then it returned to him (to the man who labeled it on his brother Muslim).

Lastly:

A Muslim is not an introvert person. When the Quran states that we are the best ummah, the reason is explained as we convey what is right and good to others and prohibit them from committing wrong and forbidden acts. The common way of all prophets is to show the people the true path and to liberate them from unbelief, polytheism, and disobedience to Allah.

So we should present ourselves not as murderers who kill those who are in the wrong path but as improvers who try to show them the true path and show it by our style of living.

Now let's turn to ourselves and settle accounts with ourselves: Am I feeling sorry for and trying to save people who are deprived of the light of Islam; or am I looking for occasions to end their lives and send them to hell? If my soul favors the latter it means I am deviating from the common line of the prophets. I should come to my senses, determine my duty and act accordingly. Our Prophet was an enemy of the polytheism but he felt sorry for the polytheists and tried to save them, as a doctor is an enemy of the illness, not the patient. How much do I conform to the way of my dear Prophet?

Such an inner dialogue will make us give the best decision about dialogue.