#like it's better than nothing but it's not the bible some people seems to think it is

[spicyvampire]

Hate /heɪt/ verb -> Enduring anger focused on a particular person or group of persons. Over time hatred may generate the personality trait of hostility. Surprise /sɚˈpraɪz/ noun -> The briefest emotion, surprise is triggered by the sudden occurrence of an unexpected event. It is often a way station that leads, after more appraisal, to any of the other emotions. Fondness  /ˈfɑnd·nəs/ noun -> A liking. Guilt /ɡɪlt/ noun -> Regret about a past action [...], a feeling of worry or unhappiness that you have because you have done something wrong, such as causing harm to another person.

Atlas of emotions + Cambridge dictionary

4MINUTES (2024) EP. 6

[gureumz]

stained glass windows

rating: explicit

member: jungwon

notes: fem!reader, stepcest, dubcon, religious corruption, baby trapping (?), unholy use of scripture (sorry god), dom!jungwon, slight angst, mentions of death, step brother!jungwon, breeding, fingering, dirty talk, unprotected sex, jay has a cameo appearance lol

a/n: so this is an amalgamation of everything everyone requested for jungwon,,,reciting bible verses during sex? i got you. stepcest? no problem. baby trapping (this is 100% what i want and yes my wish is my command)? you bet. religious corruption? hell yeah. something super filthy and kinky? say no more. enjoy, hoes! love ya mwa (the bible verse here is 1 Corinthians 10:13 if you were curious)

sundays are your happy days.

a pretty dress, the stained glass windows, hushed chatter among the churchgoers—these were all the things you waited for at the end of the week.

your mother had always been proud of how involved you are in your faith, showering you with loving words before going to bed when you were little, calling you 'hers and God's favorite angel'. you'd smile and feel a sense of giddiness. God's favorite angel. can you believe it? you made sure to wear that as a badge of honor.

and then you grew up, went to a bigger school, met people who are different from you. even those who you knew were like you, devoted and obedient to their parents and God, seemed to have strayed down the path of parties, drinks, and the unthinkable. that is to say, premarital sex.

you never understood the appeal of it all. your faith and God were enough. you didn't need to participate in such acts to feel anything. you felt Him in every waking moment.

until there came a time when you were convinced He was gone altogether.

until sundays stopped becoming your happy days. every single day was void of any happiness.

your father passed suddenly, leaving you and your mother to fend for yourselves. you watched your mother grieve, grieved on your own, alone in your room. you went to school and saw the excitement in your peers' eyes, talking about a party here and buying drinks there.

you nearly caved. anything to take your mind off your dad.

but this was when your mother spent nearly every day at the church, despite it being mostly empty every day other than sundays. without anything better to do, you tagged along. and you started to feel Him again.

you knew God returned for real when your mother became friendly with a newcomer at church. a businessman who recently moved to your town, towing his son along.

mr. yang, as you later learned. he had a son.

jungwon.

jungwon wore an easy smile, deep dimples appearing every time he did. he shook your hand with a hesitant grip, palms smooth and soft. he had eyes that seemed to sparkle.

seasons changed, months grew into years, and your mother and mr. yang got married.

you saw the life return to your mother's face, easing her shoulders back, smoothing out the creases in her weathered face.

sundays became your happy days again, now that mr. yang and jungwon were in your lives.

---

jungwon is the poster child for the perfect sibling. or, at least that's what you think.

it's been a couple of years since your parents' wedding, and jungwon was nothing short of accommodating. he was kind, always letting you have first picks at whatever food your parents prepared, and offered to do things for you.

granted, it wasn't always like this. the two of you skirted around each other the first few weeks, both former only children, suddenly dealt with the fact that they had a sibling exactly their age. there was even a period of time when jungwon would bolt at the sight of you. though, you tried to not take this to heart.

but after all has been said and done, the two of you fell into a routine, becoming friends of some sort. eternal housemates.

"hurry up. this will be the second week we're late because you couldn't decide what dress to wear."

you turn, spotting jungwon poking his head through the door.

"sorry," you reply bashfully. "these people don't see me on weekdays anymore since i'm off at campus, so you can't really blame me for wanting to make an entrance on the one day they do see me."

jungwon quirks an eyebrow.

"since when did you care what they think?" jungwon questions, stepping fully into your room. he's wearing a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and crisp black pants.

you note that the watch he has on today makes him look particularly handsome.

you merely shrug. "i don't know. everyone at college dresses so nice and i thought i'd make an effort, too."

jungwon snorts. "everyone at college is a try-hard. it's a small-town liberal arts institution."

"hey, you're a student there, too," you point out, crossing your arms at jungwon.

you watch as he surveys your outfit, eyes slowly making your way down your body. you swallow, suddenly aware of how tight the yellow sundress feels. the fabric seems to dig at your armpits uncomfortably, and the hem is too short and—

"you look good," jungwon says, eyes meeting yours.

you breathe a sigh of relief.

"well, if you say so. i trust your word," you say, smoothing down your skirt.

you feel jungwon approach, circling an arm around your waist, ushering you towards the door.

"i am your brother. i think i'd know what would look good on you," jungwon points out with a wink.

---

the service goes by without a hitch. you participated as you always did, offered your prayers as you usually do. you thanked Him for another successful week of classes but also asking for you to ace your upcoming exams. it was all routine.

until your mother pulled you along, chirping excitedly about a new family that had moved to town and joined the church.

the parks.

a father, a mother, and their son who's a business major at some big-shot university a few towns over.

"i'm jay," the son said to you, reaching his hand towards you as his family introduced themselves to yours. you shook hands and you couldn't help the sudden heat that flooded your face and chest.

your hand still tingles with where he held on, even now on the car ride home

"that jay boy sure is cute," your mother says from the passenger seat. you turn to her, eyebrows raised.

"seems like he has a good head on his shoulders," your stepfather agrees. he looks at you through the rearview mirror.

"the kind of guy girls wanna marry."

you see your mother twist in her seat to give you a knowing look. you roll your eyes but the familiar warmth takes over your entire body again.

"i mean, i don't know. we just met him and his family," you point out, trying not to stutter. you turn to jungwon for backup but your brother has his back turned to you, his face angled toward the window.

"right, jungwon?" you try nonetheless.

"huh?" comes his clueless response. he looks at you and his face is crumpled in a frown. you're taken slightly aback.

before you can say anything, your mother speaks up.

"why don't you try and befriend him, jungwon? they said they only live on the next street over," your mother offers, unaware at how deep jungwon's frown has gotten in the seconds she said that sentence.

"i don't know," jungwon mumbles. "i can try, i guess."

you watch as jungwon turns back to the window, his hand balling into a fist on his lap. you decide not to pry, leaning your own head against the window beside you, watching the little houses in your neighborhood speed by.

---

you urge yourself to stop picking at your fingernails. but you can't help it, either. standing outside your brother's door, you're not sure what awaits you on the other side.

taking a deep breath, you decide to just get it over with. you're certain it's nothing. you're just concerned and you want to see how jungwon's doing.

you knock softly three times, waiting to hear jungwon's voice. after a few seconds, you hear a muffled, 'come in!'.

you push the door open a bit, taking a peek inside jungwon's room. he's sprawled on his bed, his phone in his hands as he scrolls through his screen. his eyes shift to you and he sits up.

"what's up?" jungwon asks as you let yourself in. you don't say anything until you're seated beside him on his bed.

"i didn't want to risk your wrath, so i wasn't sure if i should bring this up with you...," you begin, teeth worrying your lower lip.

jungwon raises a brow. "i don't know what you're talking about. but other than that, you know i can never get upset with you, right?"

you continue to bite down on your lip, unsure of what to say next.

"but you were upset today," you say after a few seconds. "in the car?"

jungwon's face morphs into mild recognition. he nods, finally understanding what you mean.

"oh, that," jungwon deadpans. "it's nothing."

"come on, you can tell me anything, remember?" you urge, pulling your legs up on jungwon's bed before crossing them. jungwon glances down as you do so but quickly averts his eyes back to your face.

"it's nothing, i swear. it's stupid and thinking back on it, it just seems like such a dumb thing to be mad about," jungwon explains, shifting closer to you.

you take his hand and you squeeze as jungwon threads his fingers through the gaps between yours.

your mother often remarked how the two of you seemed more like twins than regular siblings. mirror images of each other. the perfect balance. looking at jungwon now, you see what she meant.

"nothing you say would be stupid to me," you reply, voice soft as your thumb runs over the skin of jungwon's hand.

something flashes across jungwon's face and his eyes seem to trail over every part of you. your skin prickles as he stops right at your chest, pajama top showing the very tops of your breasts.

"i didn't like the way that jay guy was looking at you," jungwon finally admits, gaze returning to your face.

you look at jungwon quizzically. "what? how was he looking at me?"

"like he was undressing you with his eyes," jungwon complains. "he was practically flirting with you."

you laugh incredulously. "no, he wasn't. he said two words to me, wonie."

jungwon shakes his head. "i'm a man, too. i know how our brains and eyes work."

you stop for a second to ponder on jungwon's words. you can't deny the intensity of how jay seemed to be looking at you earlier and the way he held your hand so tight.

"so?" you retaliate. "he's cute. i don't mind."

you see jungwon's jaw clench, the muscles spasming under his skin. his lips press into a thin line and he pulls his hand back from your grasp.

"guys like that will only take advantage of you, _______," jungwon says, voice slow and deliberate.

your forehead creases. "how are you so sure?"

jungwon stares at you for a few moments. he reaches his hand out, cupping one side of your face in his palm. you gulp, your heart jumping at the contact.

"i just know. you trust me, right? i'm your brother, after all."

you nod.

your hand comes up to cover his that's on your face and the room seems to still. the steady hum of the ac fades away, the cicadas outside vanish, and the thumping of your own heart amplifies. jungwon is looking you square in the eye and you can't help but cower under his gaze.

just as jungwon makes a move to lean closer, a loud knock and your mother's voice rips the moment away.

"dinner's ready! come eat!"

jungwon pulls his hand back and you scramble off his bed. you hurriedly cross the room, flinging jungwon's bedroom door open and stepping out, not sparing another glance behind you.

---

you toss and turn that night.

your face still tingles from where jungwon touched you. your mind is reeling with so many thoughts, your imagination seemingly going into each and every unexplored direction.

you and jungwon grew close during the years you spent together since your parents got married. it was like becoming friends. you had to learn things about each other, know what makes the other tick. the two of you never shied away from showing who you truly are. you'd be living under the same roof for the most part, so what's the point in hiding, right?

and jungwon never hid his affection for you. brotherly hugs, encouraging pats on the back, kisses on your forehead. he told yu over and over again how happy he was that you were his sister. that you were the best sister.

and you never hid how much you needed jungwon, either. he taught you how to get home on the bus from college on the weekends. he helped you with any handiwork you required in your room. he gave you the ins and outs of the college cliques and clubs.

jungwon always told you he loves you. you always reached out to jungwon. neither was a secret.

so, what's making you so nervous?

before you can answer yourself, you hear the hinges of your door squeak as it opens. in the dim light of your room, you see a figure step through the doorway, startling you slightly.

"sorry, it's me," jungwon whispers. "i couldn't sleep."

you feel your heart quicken once more as you sit up, watching jungwon make his way to your bed. he plops down on the mattress and looks at you.

"mind if i crash here for a while?" jungwon asks quietly.

jungwon does this on some nights, reasoning the bouts of insomnia as he snuggles up to your side. half of the time he talks, telling you stories of what he did during the day, and the other half he spends holding you to his chest, fingers drawing patterns on your back.

on rare occasions, he asks you to turn away, pressing your back to his front. he sometimes rocks against you gently and whispers how much he loves you in your ear. you feel strange when he does this. but you never complain.

"sure," you reply, scooting to one side of the bed. jungwon moves to lay beside you, pulling the covers over him.

wordlessly, his hands find your hips, tugging you close. you let him, your own arms circling around jungwon's torso. he's warm and smells like fresh laundry. you don't hide the way you inhale his scent.

you stay like that for a few minutes and you almost think that jungwon has fallen asleep. but after a while, he pulls back slightly to look at you.

you meet his eyes, sharp shadows cast across jungwon's face from your night lamp situated on the other side of your room.

"stay away from jay," jungwon says. your mouth falls open in mild surprise.

"why?" you ask. jungwon sighs, cradling your face once more in his hand.

"he doesn't deserve you," jungwon responds, voice hardened with something you can't quite put your finger on.

jungwon's looking down at you and even in the darkened state of your room, you can see the seriousness in his expression. he's clearly still upset from earlier.

"but mom and dad seem to like him," you reason with a pout. jungwon lets out a 'tsk' grasping your face tighter.

you let out a whimper. jungwon was never this heavy-handed with you.

"but i don't like him," jungwon insists. "you need someone who knows you, who can do things for you, who loves you more than anything."

jungwon pushes you onto your back, his leg swinging over to plant his knee on your other side. he grabs at your wrists and presses them down, trapping you as he hovers over you, his face inches away from yours.

"you need me."

you gasp, unable to comprehend the words that had just left jungwon's mouth. you're given no time to work it out in your head because jungwon is kissing you, pressing his lips to yours. you protest, pushing against jungwon but he's too strong for you to fight back properly. he has you pinned down and there's nothing you can do.

"w-what are you doing?" you say as jungwon pulls away for a second. instead of answering, jungwon busies himself with your neck, nipping at your sensitive skin. you squirm and whine but jungwon doesn't let up.

"i love you," jungwon whispers in your ear.

you shiver.

"you love me, too, right?" jungwon questions as he looks at you. you blink away tears that have gathered in your eyes.

you're just so confused. what is he doing? what is happening?

"answer me, angel," jungwon urges gently. he leans down to kiss away at the tears streaming down the side of your face.

"i do," you return weakly.

"no no," jungwon tuts. "say it properly."

you sniffle as you feel more tears fill your eyes.

"i love you."

jungwon seems satisfied because he kisses you again, tongue running over the seam of your lips. you've never kissed anyone before and it feels so foreign, having jungwon's tongue licking into your mouth. but you follow what he does, parting your lips and moving your tongue with his.

jungwon groans, one of his hands letting go of your wrist to grab at your waist instead. he presses you to him and you feel something stiff against your thigh.

"you make me so hard, angel," jungwon groans. he grinds against your leg and you watch as his expression crumples into pleasure.

"t-this is wrong," you sob. "we're not supposed to do this."

and you do feel conflicted with it all. everything you've learned in church, everything you've read through His word, it all says that this is bad. that you should only lay with the man you love, the man you married.

oh, but you do love jungwon. you've loved him since the day you met him.

"do you want to stop?" jungwon asks, stilling above you. you continue to cry, your legs squeezing together as you feel wet heat pool in your underwear.

"God will forgive us, angel girl," jungwon coos, a hand dipping beneath your pajama top.

you mewl as you feel jungwon squeeze at one of your boobs.

"He knows how much we love each other, so he'll forgive us, don't you worry," jungwon reassures as he rolls your nipple between his fingers.

"then we'll make it up to Him with a cute little wedding at a faraway chapel," jungwon continues, his other hand tugging down your shorts and underwear.

you're breathing heavily now, head spinning as your whole body heats up. the ache between your legs grows stronger.

"then we'll have babies," jungwon says. "so many babies we'll be filling up our own pew at church."

you gasp as you feel jungwon's fingers press against your core, working on the nub that you've ever really encountered twice or thrice before, too scared to be condemned to hell if you continued to touch yourself.

"what if we have a baby now, huh?" jungwon asks, placing a chaste kiss to your temple. "make you a mommy so no one can take you from me."

you shake your head, initially appalled at his words, but the thought of carrying jungwon's child, it stirs something in you.

"no?" jungwon asks, voice hinting with playfulness. "you don't want it?"

you look up at jungwon, struggling to find the words to say. you want it but your conscience screams at you to refuse.

"i want it," you finally answer. "want to give you a baby."

"fuck," jungwon curses as the words leave your mouth. he hurriedly discards his shorts, eyes seemingly ablaze.

"yeah? gonna give your brother a baby?" jungwon taunts, fingers circling at your core again. you moan wantonly, a million different feelings coursing through your body.

jungwon pokes in one finger through your entrance and you nearly scream, unprepared for the strange sensation.

"sshhh," jungwon says, pressing down on your mouth with one hand. he adds a second finger in slowly and your back arches off the bed.

"look at you," jungwon says with a grin. "your body responds so well to me, huh, angel?"

you cry into jungwon's palm as you feel him pump his fingers in and out of you, curling them inside every time he pushes in. you feel a tightness in your belly and more wetness pooling out of you. your body jolts with every movement of jungwon's fingers.

"shit, i can't take this anymore," jungwon mutters, pulling his fingers out. you whine, hips involuntarily pushing up as they search for friction.

"i got you," jungwon says, taking his hand off your face. the room is filled with your soft sobs, a mix of the lingering guilt and the newfound pleasure.

jungwon strokes his shaft a few times and you watch with bated breath as he aligns himself between your legs. you feel him push against you and you start to cry even harder, fear of what's to come gripping you like no other.

jungwon pushes halfway in and any scream threatening to break free from your lips is muted by jungwon pressing his mouth to yours. you cry and cry and cry as jungwon keeps pushing in, burying himself to the hilt seconds later.

he stills, pulling away to let you breathe. you hiccup, the stretch between your legs equal parts painful and filling in the best way possible.

"s-so big," you sob. "c-can feel you in my belly."

jungwon groans, his hip snapping up involuntarily. you whine, biting down hard on your lip.

"yeah? can you feel me here?" jungwon asks, a large hand pressing down on your lower abdomen. he starts to move then, slowly pulling out then thrusting back in.

"yes!" you gasp. "yes, yes, it's so deep."

"God, angel, you sound so beautiful when you're being fucked," jungwon says, speeding up.

"recite to me your favorite bible verse," jungwon commands. you barely hear him with the way he's moving his hips against yours.

"w-what?" you mumble in a daze.

jungwon takes hold of your face, forcing you to look directly at him.

"your favorite bible verse, angel girl. let me hear your pretty voice."

you rack your brain for it. you should know it by heart, have it seared into your consciousness. but the way jungwon is taking you right at this moment wipes away nearly all thoughts of scripture.

"no temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man," you begin, trying to keep your voice steady as jungwon scrutinizes you, fingers still digging into your cheeks.

"God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability," you continue. jungwon smirks, nodding, urging you to go on.

you're about to speak when you feel jungwon's thumb press down on your sensitive nub. you cry out, the added sensation muddling your brain even further.

"go on," jungwon orders.

"b-but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to e-ndure it," you finish with a shaky breath.

"good job, angel," jungwon says, letting go of your face and leaning in to kiss you briefly on your forehead.

your head falls back against your pillow, your vision blurring as all you can feel is jungwon moving in and out of you. all you can think of is jungwon. all you ever need, right at this moment, is jungwon.

your brother. the man you love. the man you want to have all your babies with.

"so tight, so fucking tight," jungwon babbles, pushing your legs up so he can get a better angle. your lower half rises off the bed and jungwon fucks into you even harder, snapping his hips against your insides with a force that has you gripping onto your sheets for dear life.

jungwon continues on like this, sweat dripping down his forehead. any pain is gone now, replaced with a want, a need for some sort of release.

you don't know what compels you to talk, but you can't help the next words that come out of your mouth.

"p-please, jungwon. feels so good. w-wanna be a mommy, want it so bad. n-need it!"

jungwon seems to let himself go then, hips moving erratically, not caring if you're bent nearly in half, his grip on your thighs painful as his fingernails poke at your skin. it feels good, you think, your insides clenching and tingling at the sight of jungwon getting nearly animalistic with you.

it almost fills you with joy. knowing that he's only ever like this with you.

a few moments later, jungwon's hips start to stutter.

"gonna give you my babies, angel girl. i'm so close, so close to making you a mommy—fuck!"

the words from jungwon stop any coherent thought in your brain as a sort of euphoria takes over you, your whole body tightening up. jungwon completely stills, pressing himself in deeper. a warm feeling spreads from where he's sheathed inside you.

the two of you remain unmoving, panting as your minds catch up with your bodies. jungwon pulls out moments later, replacing his cock with his fingers. you protest weakly as jungwon moves his fingers shallowly in and out of you.

"i came so much, angel," jungwon says with a chuckle. he pulls his fingers out and shows you his fingers, coated with his milky white release.

"your belly's gonna be all swollen up in nine months, for sure," jungwon muses, pushing his fingers against your mouth. you part your lips hesitantly, licking at the saltiness.

"good girl," jungwon praises, pulling his hand away before kissing you sweetly.

"i love you," jungwon mumbles against your lips.

you hold his face steady, thumbs rubbing at his cheeks. you meld your lips together, the elation finally catching up to you.

there are no stained glass windows in your room, your body bare and void of pretty dresses, and the night is still and quiet.

it's still sunday. it's still your happy day.

"i love you, too," you say as you and jungwon share a smile.

[fallstaticexit]

Prev / Next / Beginning / Pillowfort

AN: Source for tarot reading

Transcript under the cut

Morgan: Ever done this before?

Nancy: Can’t say that I have.

Morgan: Are you as put off about this as that other bible thumper?

Nancy: [rolls eyes] We’re not all the same. I’m more than my faith.

Morgan: I don’t doubt that. I’m sure there’s many layers to you. Where are you from?

Nancy: Brindleton Bay.

Morgan: Really, I’m from Portridge, a small town south of the Bay. Originally.

Nancy: Yeah? So, how did you end up a Fyres?

Morgan: Great question. My mom was his secretary. Super scandalous shit, which would explain while the Royal Barbie hates my guts. He’s not a bad step dad though. Hell of lot better than my actual dad. So, your parents-

Nancy: Isn’t the probing developing a bias or something?

Morgan: Just a little small talk. So, is there a question you want answered? Perhaps, a question about your past, your present or your future?

Nancy: I-

Nancy Narrates: [I want to get forget my past. I want to survive my present. I want to escape my future. Could there really be an answer for all that in those cards]

Nancy: I don’t know...

Morgan: That’s ok. You intention will guide us.

Morgan: Pick three cards that call to you. Based on the three, we will see what the cards have to say about your past, present and future.

Nancy: And you believe in this?

Morgan: We believe what we believe in, right? You have your three?

Nancy: I think so..

Morgan: Let’s take a look.

Morgan: Your past—the Upright Fool. Innocence. Curorsity. Something new and exciting—perhaps a first love in your youth that swept you off your feet?

Nancy Narrates: [Already I hated this...]

Morgan: Your present- the Reversed Star. Insecurity. Self doubt. A loss of faith. Interesting. Perhaps a struggle with one’s own faith? Are you having any doubts, Nancy? About yourself? About your God?

Morgan: Your future- the Upright Devil. Lust. Obsession. Temptation. Could be for the material things of life, or maybe a desire of the flesh.

Nancy: [clears throat] That all seems incredibly vague.

Morgan: [grins] Does it? Your poker face could use some work. Let me ask you something. Who exactly did I remind you of? Someone from your past?

Morgan: Your silence is very telling. I have a real gift for reading people.

Nancy: I’m sure you believe you do.

Morgan: [laughs] I really do!

Morgan: Tightly wound, fidgeter. You bite the hell out of your nails, right at the skin on the tips of your fingers, unconsciously. You pick at it until it bleeds. It’s the only thing that’s keeping you tethered to your own body. The pain, that is.

Morgan: Right?

Geoffrey: You made it! And making friends! Sorry, am I interrupting girl talk?

Morgan: It’s cool, boy wonder. Want me to do your reading?

Geoffrey: Are you kidding? Of course I do!

Nancy: Actually, I think I want to g-

Geoffrey: Really quick, Nance, then I’ll walk you to your dorm!

Geoffrey: Upright Death for my future sounds kind of scary when you think about it, huh? She said it could mean profound change. Sounds promising.

Nancy: [tsks] That could mean literally anything. That whole practice strives on vagueness. You can never be wrong if you’re bound to be right.

Geoffrey: Yeah, but it’s about how you perceive it, right? It’s unique. She did yours, didn’t she? What did yours say?

Nancy: Yeah, I um, don’t remember.

Geoffrey: Maybe you can ask her again. You two seem to hit it off.

Nancy: [huffs] Please. I am not going back to that shabby bar. She’s a sham. Those cards mean nothing. It’s stupid.

Geoffrey: [sighs]

Nancy: What?

Geoffrey: [blows raspberries]

Nancy Narrates: [Truth was, I was more curious than anything]

Nancy: So. Those cards. Could they...I don’t know- tell me something that could happen in a week? Like if I asked if I’ll pass my Statistics exam?

Nancy Narrates: [I was completely captivated by this otherworldly experience, whether I’d admit it outloud or not]

Nancy Narrates: [and Morgan was always happy to indulge me]

Nancy: [whispers] So I past my exam. How does this even work? I mean, how could they know? The cards. Could you do another reading after the debate?

Nancy Narrates: [But of all the questions I did ask, there was one that burned inside me more]

[heavy metal spills into the hallway]

Morgan: [startled] Nancy?

Nancy: Is this a bad time? I know it’s late...I can come back another time. I just have so much on my mind and I can’t sleep.

Morgan: You want another reading?

Nancy: Is that ok?

Morgan: Of course it is, Nancy. Come in.

Morgan: Sorry for all the smoke. I can open a window.

Knox: Babe, who’s this? It’s not my birthday.

Morgan: [smirks] Want me to get rid of him? I can.

Knox: Hey! I’ll be quiet! Won’t even know I’m here.

Nancy: I don’t mind. I just had a question.

Nancy: Could you do a reading for someone else, even if they’re not here?

Morgan: [hums] Not really...not without their permission or their intention. Who is this person to you?

Nancy: [looks away] Someone from my past. Someone I need to forget but- I can’t.

Morgan: Did this person hurt you?

Nancy: [shakes head] If anything, I hurt them. I ruined them with my... [lowly] um, perversions. I just need to know if they’re ok. If they hate me for it.

Morgan: [softly] I see... Here’s what we’ll do. Just like before, I’ll do a three card spread.

Morgan: Set your intention. Clear your mind. Ask your question. The first card is ‘you’. The middle card is ‘them’. The third card is the relationship.

Nancy Narrates: [‘Vanessa, do you hate me?’ ‘Do you blame me?’ ‘Do you regret loving me?’ ‘Do you know that I never stopped loving you?’]

Nancy Narrates: [‘Do you know that I’m sorry?’ ‘Do you know that I miss you?’ ‘Do you know that I need you?’]

Morgan: [exhales] It says... that you are a filled with love, Nancy, even though the world around you wants to drain you of it. There’s just too much of it inside of you and your friend-

Nancy: [weakly] Vanessa.

Morgan: [smiles] Vanessa. She loves you all the same. She may be experiencing her own hurt in this world, but having loved you keeps her strong. You two brought something bright and beautiful into each other’s lives.

Morgan: You can’t rid her from your life, because she’s apart of you, and...I- I think that’s a love worth fighting for, Nancy.

Nancy: [between gulps] Right. Right, thank you. Thanks, Morgan.

Morgan: Wait, Nancy, you don’t have to leave. It’s ok-

Nancy: It’s fine. I uh- I should go.

[door clicks shut]

Knox: Uhh, did you just make all that up?

Morgan: [weakly] I don’t know why I did that..

[worldofkuro]

Painted Smile

Painted Smile XXVII

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Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

Notes: I won't lie, I'm proud of this chapter, it's better than the last one which I'm not completly satisfied with. I hope you will enjoy this chapter.

You gasped as your soul came back inside your body. You couldn’t help but feel fear sipping through your body, making you stand up quickly. You felt like something was coming toward you, at a racing speed.

You looked at your shadow which was frowning, staring at the entrance, her form being bigger and bigger, her growing presence overwhelming all the room. Your breathing was getting quicker and quicker, what was going on?

You tried to talk with Legba but you were too panicked to be able to summon a tangible link. You rushed into the kitchen as you felt another presence watching you. You took a knife and waited with your shadow at your side. It was snarling and growling, staying protectively near you. 

You flinched when your shadow rushed toward something, making you freeze. You waited, your grip on the blade showing no sign of weakness. You waited before seeing your shadow coming back with its usual hideous smile. You tilted your eyes, you couldn’t feel the presence… What you could feel was…

“ Alastor?”

You went into the living room where Alastor’s shadow was looking around, everywhere. It stopped when it saw you and rushed toward you, caging you in its embrace with his horrific smile. You patted its head with a relieved smile.

“ Good boy…” You watched as it beamed before it latched toward your own shadow and both of them began their usual banter. You sat on the sofa, calming your nerves. If Alastor’s shadow was here, it certainly meant he felt something like you did. But it also meant Alice and Alyzée were alone without protection… 

You called the two shadows to you which both went toward you, waiting for your commands. You tilted your head, crossing your arms against your chest, your finger tapping against your arms.

“ I don’t think I can manage to send my own shadow so far away from me, so you need to go back to Alice and Alyzée.” you said, sighing when you saw Alastor’s shadow fuzzing with anger, his smile dropping into a snarl. It moved toward you and wrapped its hand around your ankle, smiling once more. You pouted, it seemed like Alastor had decided that his priority would be you.

You looked at your shadow which was tugging Alastor’s shadow’s hair. Maybe you could try to send your own shadow..

“ Do you think you can protect our friends ?” you asked, ignoring Alastor’s shadow frown. Your shadow smiled hideously at you, nodding eagerly. You sended her to your friend and as soon as your shadow was out of your property, you fell on the sofa, your eyes closed.

You couldn’t move. It was a strange feeling, it was like you were watching from someone else's eyes. Your own body couldn’t move, you needed to be so concentrated to keep your shadow moving to Alice’s position.  How could Alastor manage to do his daily life when his shadow was always attached to Alyzée or you? 

You felt the Alastor’s shadow squeezed your ankle, like an encouraging gesture. If you could have, you would have smiled at it. It was oddly cute, it seemed like a more twisted version of Alastor when he was younger.

You looked through your shadow’s eyes which were already at Alice’s side. Your friends were talking with a woman about God. You tried to see if the man who watched you  was around but it seemed like he was gone. Well, you panicked for nothing…

You looked at the lady, she was kind of cute, holding a Bible against her chest, explaining something to your friends. It’s when you saw Alice and Alyzée’s uncomfortable face that you decided to listen to what the lady was saying.

“ We must fight those people who go against God’s will. Some women fancies other women, how disgusting.”

Ah.

Well, that wasn’t a pleasant conversation at all.  You looked around, maybe you could make something happen so the unpleasant lady would back off from your friends. You looked through your shadow eyes, looking around. 

You didn’t want Alice to support the lady’s yapping more than she already indulged. You saw a group of men, chatting on the other side of the road, one holding a dog by his leash, but the dog was staring in your direction. The dog was wagging his tail lazily, seeming to look in your directions.

Could animals see the spirits ?

You asked your shadow to move toward the dog, wanting to test your theory and you smiled when the dog barked at your shadow, his tail wagging energetically. That was interesting information… You looked toward Alice and Alyzée, going back toward them as the two women were looking at the dog who was making noises.

You giggled but then froze when you saw the lady looking at you, seeming paler than she was a minute ago. She jerked her head toward the dog, before trying to come back to her discussion with your friends. Did… Did she see your shadow ? You needed to find out if she could see you, then you would know how to act. 

You forced your shadow to approach the lady who clenched her Bible harder against her chest. You could feel your shadow smiling down on the poor woman, in its usual horrific way. You smirked when you saw the woman looking at your shadow.

You got her, now what should you do? Follow her or stay with your friends in case something happens?

You turned around when you heard a panting noise coming from behind you. You turned around and saw Victor, catching his breath as he looked at Alice and Alyzée with a tired smile.

“ Hha… Alastor… told me to fetch you.” Victor said to your friend with a friendly smile.

Once again, your husband was just… perfect with his timing.

The lady ran away from your friends who seemed shocked. You demanded your shadow to follow the woman which it gladly did. As your shadow was following the woman, you felt your own body getting tired. How exhausting that exercise was! How could Alastor manage it? The woman ran for ten minutes before going inside a building. You watched as your shadow followed her, seeming to have much fun. 

The shadow entered the building, which seemed to be abandoned. It looked around, once again, its childish curiosity making it hard not to find it cute. It looked at a dirtied doll before going after the woman. You didn’t know where she went but it shouldn’t be hard to find her. 

You could only hear noise and see when you were inside your shadow, so you were a little confused when it moved toward a room with excitement. You looked inside and saw a.. was that a lamb? Your shadow moved toward it, touching the dead animal with morbid fascination. What was a lamb doing here..?  The room was dark, you couldn’t see anything but the lamb in the middle of the room. There was so much blood…

“ We got you.”

Your shadow turned around, snarling as a man was standing in front of the entrance of the room. 

Fuck.

You commanded your shadow to attack the man. You didn’t want to lose this time,  and furthermore, this man gave you the same vibes as the stalker who attacked you last time. You needed to see his face. 

The man avoided your shadow attacks with strange precision. You let your shadow play with him, letting him get away before trying to reach for him once more, keeping an evil smile on its face. You were trying to see the man's face, but because of the cloat he was wearing it was even more difficult with the darkness in this room.

Wait… Didn’t he say.. We got you..?

You felt your shadow snarl in pain when you heard a feminine voice chanting something. You squint your eyes, trying to see where the voice was coming from. You watched as your shadow tried to run away but it seemed like it was caged between an invisible shield. You looked around and saw with incomprehension something on the floor, around your shadow making it impossible for it to run away. Was that..Salt?

You looked up when the man lit a candle making you capable of seeing around you. The walls around you were gray but you could see blood dripping on it. You frowned as your shadow tried to make itself bigger, snarling at the man in front of it, banging against the shield.

“ Oh lord, you were right…”

The voice came behind the man and then you saw the woman you were after. Her Bible was opened and she was looking at your shadow with disgust and fear. You could feel anger swirling inside your belly, how dared she look at you that way? 

“ Yes, I saw her thanks to the Lord. We need to get rid of it.”

What was going on…? You looked as the woman began to read her bible, chanting something you couldn’t understand. You looked as your shadow began to snarl in pain, its body bending in awkward shape, its hand trying to keep the noise from coming inside its ears. 

You felt helpless, you couldn’t do anything but watch as your shadow seemed to be burned alive. You didn’t know why, but you felt foreign energy going inside of you, you knew you were upset and yet you didn’t feel any emotion. The man watched as your shadow was hissing in pain with a satisfied smile. 

You stared at the salt keeping your shadow caged. You could.. make it go away. It seemed like your shadow was the only thing being affected by the chanting. You closed your eyes, trying so hard to raise your hand. You could feel your own body in your house, moving like you were doing right here. Come on… Just a little push…

You wanted to use your telekinesis on the book or the salt, to break the barrier. You inhaled before energy busted out of you, making the woman fall backward and send the salt away, breaking the shield. You shouted in your mind at your shadow to run, to go back home at your side right now.

The man tried to keep your shadow but it snarled with pure fury, clawing at the man’s face before rushing out of the building, running back home. 

You opened your eyes with difficulty, you needed to see your shadow. Was it okay..? You sat up slowly, Alastor’s shadow trying to help you with a worried frown. You looked around you and frowned when you saw furniture on the ground. Did you use your power near your shadow but also here…? You patted the shadow’s head before jerking your head to the door, seeing your shadow coming home, cuddling its arms against itself.

Alastor’s shadow rushed toward yours, looking at what was wrong with your shadow. You walked toward them, crouching in front of them. Your shadow looked like half of its face had been taken off. You grimaced as your shadow kept a frown on its face, even with Alastor’s shadow trying to cheer it up. 

“ Let me heal you…”

You yelped when both of the shadows snarled at you with anger. You blinked at their reaction.

“ What? You don’t want me to heal you?”

“ And they are right, my love.” 

You turned your face toward the door and smiled at Alastor who was clearly irritated. He walked toward your shadow and looked at its injury. You didn’t need him to talk to know he wanted to know what was going on. You told him everything that happened, watching as his body tensed as you explained what happened in the abandoned building.

“ Mhn..We need answers. Kalfu, come here.”

“ Papa Legba, would you please join us?”

You watched as the two spirits were leaning comfortably against the wall. Kalfu was smirking, it seemed like he was enjoying himself. Legba was looking at you with his usual warm expression. You stood up with Alastor and everyone went into the kitchen.

“ I have questions. Would you betray us?” Alastor asked, drinking the coffee you made him.

“ Alastor!”

“ No offense taken, little lady.” Papa Legba said with a genuine smile. “ What is a betrayal for you? If you are asking if I will give others an access to the spiritual realm, as long as they give me a sacrifice, I will.” You looked as Alastor’s smile twitched.

You frowned at his answer.

“ Then, if I fight against someone who works with you… How are we going to deal with it? Would you tell our secret to them?”

“ Why would I do that? I will give access to a spirit they want to work with, nothing more.” Legba tilted his head, watching you calmly. “ If you were to fight with someone I helped, I won’t intervene, it is only your control over your powers that will help you.”

“ But I know my wife is your protégée, right?” Alastor asked with his usual smile. You watched as Legba looked at Alastor, staying silent for a moment. What was a protégée exactly..? You asked your husband who explained it to you. “ A protégée my dear, is when a Spirit is fond of a human who tries to reach for them. Like a mentor student relationship. The spirit decided to be more present, without needing to ask for a sacrifice each time they are called depending on the situation.”

You beamed at Papa Legba who was looking at you with a raised eyebrow. 

“ Am I your protégée ?” you asked with a big smile. You didn’t know why but you saw Legba as your grandpa and knowing he was watching over you was comforting. The spirit smiled, sighing before patting your head.

“ I guess you are.”

You smiled at Alastor who smirked at you. You looked at Kalfu who was looking in your direction when he felt your gaze on him. He smirked at you still trying after all those years to make you scared. You weren’t afraid of Kalfu anymore but you knew he could be so scary sometimes, so you didn’t want to push your luck.

“ Is Kalfu’s protégée Alastor?” you asked curiously. You flinched when Kalfu roared with a mocking laughter.

“ Ooh, yes he is. But unlike your sweet relationship with Legba, I won’t run to save Alastor’s life. He can save his own, if not, why would I be there? I can help him in other ways, but don’t call me for sweet things like saving his life. Isn't that why you are here, little missy?”

You looked at Alastor who nodded, smirking mockingly at Kalfu. You rolled your eyes, smiling a little. They must  talk about your healing abilities…Talking about healing… You turned your head toward the two shadows and felt sad.

Your shadow was still unmoving even with Alastor’s shadow moving around it, tugging its hair and waiting to see if it would react. It seemed to be more worried each time your shadow wasn’t giving it a proper reaction.

“ How could my shadow be hurted like this?”

You looked at the three men in front of you. Now, you needed to understand what happened in that building. Legba crossed his arms after smoking, his pipe fuming in a smoothing way.

“ Well, you saw it yourself , didn’t you?”

“ What do you mean?” you asked, making a cold chocolate for you.

“It was an offering, aren’t you not used to seeing them now?” Alastor asked, stroking your cheeks. “ From what you told me, the lamb was an offering.” He looked at Legba who nodded. “ Was it for you?”

“I’m more of a rooster man. This offering wasn’t for me.”

You frowned, looking at Kalfu who smirked at you before shaking his head. It wasn’t for him either.

“ Well, they did have a Bible with them, so I’m not surprised either…” you mumbled, drinking your cold chocolate.

“ We can work with christianity.” Legba said with a small smile. You tilted your head, curiously but he didn’t say anything more.  You looked as your husband took your hand, stroking your skin, deep in thoughts. You looked at Legba with a sad smile.

“ Can .. Can you heal my shadow..?”

Legba turned his gaze toward your shadow, still being taken care of by Alastor’s shadow. He stood up and walked toward them, smiling as Alastor’s shadow kept yours against its. Legba touched your shadow, a red energy coming off him. You closed your eyes as the light was getting too strong for you to be able to see what was going on.

After a minute, you blinked your eyes and you smiled as your shadow was moving everywhere, clearing happy to be painless once more. Alastor’s shadow was staring at it before tugging its hair once more and smiled when it saw your shadow running after him in the house. You sighed, relieved. 

You thanked Legba who asked for a rooster in exchange, which you accepted.

“ Then, is it possible for them to work with angels?”

All heads turned toward Alastor. Angels…? You never thought they existed but now, it could be a possibility… Could you compare Papa Legba to an angel? You didn't know how to compare their power… Well, Legba told you the power was held in the person who asked a spirit, so maybe… With a good plan you could take someone who was working with an angel..? How complicated.

“ It is highly possible, even more so if they had a Bible with them.”

“ Mhn, It’s not my favorite hypothesis.” Laughed Kalfu with a smirk, looking at you with a knowing smile. Alastor stared at his spirit, his smile never faltering. “ Now, I have other things to do, if you excuse me.”

You looked as Kalfu vanished from his chair in a dark mist. You looked at Legba who smiled at you, asking you not to forget his rooster before walking away, vanishing behind a wall. You waited a few seconds before looking at Alastor who was sighing, his eyes closed.

You walked toward him and kissed his cheek which made him look at you.

“ Ahh, darling, do you want me to die younger because of stress?” He said as he tugged you on his laps, his arms around your waist. You tilted your head as he kept talking. “ I sended Victor to take care of the girl so you would go back home, and yet… You went into the big bad wolf’s mouth, not even planning something. I taught you better than that, right?” He purred, his lips against your cheek.

You smiled at him, wrapping your arms around his shoulder.

“ I’m sorry. I was… too excited I think.”

Alastor hummed against your skin as he watched both of your shadows playing with each other. You smiled fondly at the view.

“ Don’t you think they acted like us when we were younger?” you giggled as Alastor’s shadow poked yours on its cheek, making it snarl at it.

“ I think the same… But they are deadlier.” Alastor gave you a sinister smile which made you shiver. You kissed his lips, humming as he kissed you back. You pushed your body against his, singing in bliss when you felt his nails digging into your skin. You whispered against his lips.

“ You don’t feel sick anymore..?” 

“ I was not sick dear, I was just… tired.” he kissed you back before you could answer back, making you chuckle against his lips. You knew that Alastor and you would find those who dared disturbed the peace you created for yourself. 

It’s been so long since you felt another predator was in New Orleans. But you would win, like always.

—-

You were with Alice, at her home. 

It’s been two months since you discovered your new ‘enemies’. You didn’t expect it to put so much mental charge in your mind. You could feel their eyes on you on the street and yet you couldn’t find them. Fortunately, they didn’t show up and didn’t attack you, or Alastor or anyone else. Alastor and you went into the abandoned building, multiple times to search through every floor and you didn't find anything. It felt like they cleaned everything before vanishing.

You’ve been making yourself sick over this. It felt like the danger could happen any time. You were sleeping less, you had nausea and you were getting emotional with the lack of sleep. Sometimes you could cry because Alastor came later than usual and you thought he had been killed by the couple you couldn’t find in this bloody town.

Alastor, seeing your state getting worse, demanded you to stop caring about this and that he would handle it himself, but you shouted at him that you would never let him go alone against two persons that had power which you didn’t know anything about. 

You knew Alastor was getting more worried about you, you could see it in his eyes even when he was smiling like usual. Sometimes it was scaring yourself how you would lose yourself to your nerves. This was the most difficult thing you've ever done.

Killing Alastor’s father  was your first, but it was easy, it happened one night and it was gone, just like all your victims. You would track them down and kill them with Alastor by your side. Now, it felt like you were the prey, but unlike your previous victims, you knew you were being hunted.

You sighed, it’s been going on for two months and you didn’t discover anything, the only thing news was that Baron Samedi was coming to check on you more often. You wondered if Alastor asked him to… Well, when you asked him, Baron Samedi just smiled at you with a knowing look so you guessed it was Alastor’s doing.

“ Fuck it, I’m calling a doctor.”

You turned your head toward Alice, who had a nice small bum which made you smile. She was now six weeks pregnant. Pregnancy looked good on her… Wait, what did she say?

“ No, no need. I’m just… tired.” you sighed, lying on the couch, closing your eyes.

“ You’ve been in this state for more than two weeks. I’m calling our best doctor, don’t move.” She stood up and called her butler. 

You didn’t know when you fell asleep but you woke up with a gasp when you felt a touch on your shoulder. You sighed when you saw Alice who was beaming at you with a doctor next to her. You knew she wouldn’t give up, she didn’t know you were using your power most of the time to watch if the couple that attacked you was around… 

Well, let’s just let Alice win this time.

You let the doctor examine you and smirked when he told you seemed very tired. You stared at Alice, with a ‘ I told you so’ gaze. She just snapped her fingers, demanding that you keep your focus on the doctor.

You felt cold around you and frowned when you saw Baron Samedi behind the doctor, staring at him with an amused smile. You tilted your head and gasped when the spirit went inside the doctor's body, making the man faint.

Alice gasped as she touched the man’s shoulder.

“ Mister,are you okay?”

The doctor, which you knew was possessed by Baron Samedi, smiled at her. You could see his eyes were different, you wondered if Alice could see it…

“ I’m doing great. I’m here to tell you what kind of sickness Mrs.Sanglar is having.”

You frowned, was he joking with you? What was he doing–?

“ You are pregnant.”

…

“ What?” Alice and you said in unison.

“ Congratulations, you must be around nine or ten weeks pregnant.” Baron Samedi smiled.

You screamed with Alice, both of you panicking. You stood up, placing your hands on your belly, screaming at Alice who was helding your hands with hers, screaming with you. You needed to calm down, you needed to calm down ! It could be a bad joke of Baron Samedi.

“ Wait, Alice we can’t panic at the same time!” You shouted, trying to calm yourself. You needed to… to calm yourself.

“ You are right. I’m going to panic first, then it’s your turn.” said Alice before screaming, moving around the living room.

You looked at Baron Samedi, still possessing the doctor’s body.

“ Are you joking? It is a nasty joke?” you asked, your voice shaking.

“ No, I promise. It explained your nausea, your emotional state, you didn’t get your period not because of stress but because you are pregnant.”

You sat on the couch, your whole body shaking from excitement, fear and happiness. You were pregnant..? You were going to have a baby..? Alastor and you were going to have a baby…? Oh my God.. 

You gasped when Alice touched your shoulder.

“ I finished panicking, it's your turn.”

You screamed in joy and pure fear once more. Alice hugged you, being mindful of her belly, her eyes getting teary. You didn't know why you began to sob, hugging her against you. You were pregnant… Oh God, oh God!

You needed to see Alastor right now!

You took you things, already asking for someone to take you to Alastor work. Then you stopped yourself, Alice bumping against your back.

“ No, maybe I should do a surprise for him? But will he see it coming ? What do I do ? What if he doesn’t want children, we never really talk about it? Oh, I need to tell Marie, and my mother, and my father! Oh and–” you stopped talking when Alice put her finger on your lips with a genuine smile.

“ Sweetie, deep breath…” 

You closed your eyes and did as she told you, calming yourself. You bit your lips, oh lord, you were pregnant… You opened your eyes, feeling something you never felt in your life. There was a life that was beginning to grow inside you..

“ Now, what do you want to do?” Asked Alice.

“ I want to see Alastor.” you said, your voice calmer than a minute ago.

Alice nodded with a smile and asked one of her drivers to drive you to Alastor’s workplace. You were bouncing on the seat, stroking your belly, still flat for now. You felt like you were in a maze, you felt light but also heavy.

You ran out of the car once it parked. You looked down as you saw your shadow looking at you curiously. You told it to stay silent, watching as it went back to its normal form. 

“ Victor, is Alastor working?” you asked, panting,  when you saw the man in the corridor. He looked at you with a welcoming smile before shaking his head.

“ He is inside but he finished working.”

You thanked him before entering Alastor’s office, and closed the door behind you. You watched as your husband was looking at you with a fond smile. You were breathing hard, which immediately made him stand up with a worried expression even if his smile was still present.

“ Well, darling, you look like you ran from something… or someone? Did you see them?” you smile as his eyes flashed red when he asked you if you ran into the catholic couple. You shook your head as you took his hand and placed it against your cheek.

“ No, no… I… I have good news. Well, I hope it’s going to be good news…”

You watched as Alastor looked at you, confused but let you speak. You kept your gaze on his face,  taking his hand from your cheek to place it against your belly. He tilted his head, confused. He looked so cute like this.

“ I’m pregnant.”

You watched as his eyes widened and his smile dropped, making your heart clenched. Was he not happy..? You waited for him to talk, you knew he always needed to have time with his thoughts but right now you needed him to act right now.

You watched as he kneeled in front of you, staring at your belly with a mix of fascination and confusion. You let him touch your stomach with a soft smile, he looked like a kid again, when he discovered something he never expected to exist. 

“ You… I’ve made you… pregnant?” he asked softly, lifting his head up to watch you. You chuckled as you stroke his cheeks, your voice soft.

“ Yes.. I’m carrying your child.”

“Our child.” he corrected you.

“ Yes… Our child.” You smiled at him, your eyes getting teary. He scooped you in his arms, laughing. 

“ Who would have thought ! There is something… in your belly that we created together…” He stared at you in fascination. He seemed fascinated that you both created something that would be alive.

You kissed him softly and giggled when you felt his shadow touched your belly with curiosity. It was poking at your belly then it went to poked your shadow’s belly who let him do it. Alastor made you sit down before opening the door and asking Victor to bring you a cup of water.

You looked at your belly. You were creating life, after killing so many people. You smiled, in a few months, you would meet your baby, something you and Alastor’s love created. 

You couldn’t wait.

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[dreamgirlvibes]

We live in a culture where we are told we can go find better and do better- thus isolating ourselves and repeating this cycle over and over after small disagreements and ego-driven battles. Only to find ourselves becoming a capsule of emotions, memories and soul ties left with nothing but a false hope. Yes, there are instances where you SHOULD remove yourself and disconnect from people and things that are truly detrimental to your life and well being. But every single time someone fails or doesn’t meet such high standards, we’d rather let go instead of giving grace. We would rather remove what could have been instead of thinking of our own triggered responses and actions. We end up selfishly choosing ourselves instead and left with only ourselves. Traumatized by what is called love but we never truly find it. Taught by instagram memes and twitter posts and led by their manifestations. Guided by the followers of God and not Himself. Walking around the earth with a pride so high that couldn’t be reached but expecting for people to climb our walls. Love used to last back then because people knew what it was to TRY. We hallmark this ‘’90’s’’ r&b era because deep down inside we all want to find a love that stays, a love that never quits, that is vulnerable and faithful. It’s not about the boy groups ‘’begging and pleading’’ for their women. It’s not about the r&b divas expressing their hearts outs and uplifting their men. It’s not even about a nostalgic feeling. It’s about the fact that that we all had examples and situations that made us BELIEVE that the kinda love we deserve is WORTH IT. Worth crying for, worth chasing, worth staying, worth giving and trying. We are now blind to that type of love. We all have our guns in our pockets and weapons ready to aim at any kind of instance that doesn’t deem to be perfect. We have traded healthy love for toxicity and eventually made toxicity a normal thing- so normal we are TERRIFIED to try. Scared to stay. Horrified to look so crazy, so dumb, to be open, to cry, to do, to feel that we’re slowly becoming numb to the idea of it. Some praise singleness as a form of healthiness to the point of normalcy. And not saying that being single is not normal, but it’s the projection we forget about. People’s projections have become our new will and we all then cycle it back and pass It along. Causing all of us to eventually feel like we can do so much better, be so much better, when in reality we don’t even realize that the real work is working on ourselves. Nothing changes if nobody changes. We point the finger at each other when the target should be our own lives. If only you and that person could call it truths and instead instantly erasing the memories and history you’ve built off a disagreement, y’all can find a solution- first by removing the ego and letting vulnerability take its place. However, in this generation, that almost seems like a scam. We have power words we use for people who make simple mistakes- calling their choices a disease and spreading awareness to what could have easily been an apology. We would rather categorize people by names then to understand their reasons. We would rather perceive someone for what we choose to believe instead of allowing that person to find solace in us. Because in this generation- love is merely a concept. It is just a partnership until the contract is broken and when it breaks, we can go find another partner than can fulfill our selfish needs. It is prideful, it is not kind, it envies, dishonors others, self seeking, easily angered, never trusts, delights in seeing evil after departure and eventually fails. EVERYTHING opposite of what the Bible describes to BE LOVE. So do not think it rare that we have an enemy who is seeking to remove this altogether. To keep us soaked up in this concept until we no loner have a fighting chance. To keep us ‘’cutting each other off’’ and ‘’blocking’’ each other altogether because we feel like there is SO MUCH better when in reality the better needs to be YOU. You are the change that the world needs.

If everyone looked at themselves before trying to find this love in everyone else- we will all be facing ourseves and getting hit with the fact that when you finally turn around- you will THEN truly see each other. We will then finally see LOVE for what it is.

[mylight-png]

Hi I have a hot take after seeing too much TikTok bullshit.

Islam and Christianity are religions of appropriation.

This is something that bothered me for a while but specifically came to my attention after seeing a TikTok where someone made the joke that the Christian pride flag is just the colors of Joseph's coat, based on the musical about it.

And fine, maybe that is a little funny. But the story of Joseph and his coat isn't Christian. It was Jewish first. It's still Jewish. Fine, they believe in it too (because they originally broke off from Judaism) but to claim it's Christian like that just rubbed me the wrong way.

So so so many people claim that Prince Of Egypt is a Christian "Bible movie" except it isn't. Or at the very least, it shouldn't be. Because it isn't Christian, it's Jewish. The Christians weren't led out of Egypt by G-d's hand. It was us, the Jews.

I know I seem petty, these are just movies, just musicals, and to some they are just stories. But this removal of Judaism from originally Jewish texts feeds into a larger problem.

Why do Muslims and Christians care at all about Israel? About Jerusalem, specifically? It's because they took our Torah and made it their "old testament" and claim it is the root of their religion. They claim they have equal, if not greater at times, claim to the land they only care about because we care about it.

If these religions were not Abrahamic then they wouldn't give a crap about Moses or Israel or Joseph's coat.

Any claim that any of the stories (for lack of a better word) from the Torah are Muslim or Christian is appropriation. Sorry not sorry. They were Jewish first, are Jewish now, and will forever be Jewish.

Can people of other Abrahamic faiths believe in them? I don't give a shit, I won't tell them what to believe, it's their religion. But they have no right to claim those stories as their own. To believe them and to claim them is vastly different.

When sharing in a culture that isn't your own, it's generally acknowledged to be wrong if you say that it's now part of your culture. Because it isn't. It still belongs to the original culture you took it from.

And since they do believe in the Jewish texts and claim them as their own, they are appropriating Judaism.

Shortly after October 7th, when my mom was talking to a coworker about what was going on, her coworker lamented the safety of the sacred sites. She said nothing of my mom's family living there, even though she knew. She, as a Christian, felt more entitled to care about the "sacred sites" (sacred to them because the land was first sacred to us) than about the Jewish blood being spilled.

I've said it before, to them, Jewish blood is cheap. And this appropriation only serves to cheapen it further.

This appropriation and entitlement has been an issue throughout history. The Crusades, the taxes on Jews for not being Muslim, this repeated and continued oppression of Jews under the justification of the other two Abrahamic religions, it's because those other groups feel entitled to our heritage, because they believe they're the ones "doing it right" and say we're doing it wrong even though what they do has strayed so far from their origins that such a claim is absurd.

I do not think Christians and Muslims should convert to Judaism. We don't encourage conversion (we accept y'all, but we aren't a proselytizing religion, not meant to offend Jewish converts).

What I am saying, however, is that Muslims and Christians should back the hell off from any claim to anything within their religion that is originally Jewish. And yes, that includes their entitlement to Israel and Jerusalem, and any and all "Biblical" stories that originated in the Torah. Those aren't Muslim or Christian, they're Jewish.

Again, I don't give a shit what people believe or practice, but what I am saying is for people to start giving credit where credit is due, and to back off from claiming other people's cultures and religions as reasons for your own entitlement.

Hell, I'm not even saying that only Jews can live in Israel. Anyone can live there now and that's fine. The issue is more so when claims start that Israel is equally important to all of us, or that Jews have no claim to the land. First, you care about it only because we did, that's not equal importance. And second, whether you like it or not, Jews are from Judea. We always have been, are, and always will be indigenous to Israel.

So yeah. Back off. Believe and practice what you want, but back off of what was ours first.

...

If this gets too much hate I'll just delete it tbh. It's a hot take and I recognize that the truth isn't for everyone.

[kikitakite]

@fantasyfictionfables

I was going to reblog some of your posts because I wanted to discuss your takes on Mystra, but then I found out you're a Christian conservative who hates gay people.

No gay person thinks their sexual orientation is their identity, but it's absolutely PART of their identity, just as being straight is part of yours. You can claim otherwise, but it determines who you might love and marry and that person will one day become a part of you and your identity. It's inevitable. As a wife and mother of three, you should know that better than anyone.

But people from groups like yours shame gay people for exploring that part of themselves and that's why Pride Month exists. Pride isn't "propaganda". It's about marginalized people showing the world they exist and they're not ashamed of it. Parades are also a great way for gay people to meet each other. My bestie met her wife at a march 15 years ago and they've been together ever since. It's beautiful. They have two happy, gorgeous children who wouldn't exist without Pride, because their moms never would've met.

Pride also raises money to help gay teens who've been cast out of their homes and gay refugees who've had to flee their country because being gay is illegal there. It also provides support for gay people who need medical help, therapy for abuse, suicide prevention and more. It's a safe space for people who are often discriminated against and even KILLED just for being who they are. So sorry that seems to bother you.

Your take isn't brave, it's just ignorant and hateful. You didn't have to write that post. Nothing provoked it. You just WANTED to to air your allegiances. And then you turned off comments and reblogs lmfao. For the majority of the year, gay people survive just like us straights. They go about their day and don't even mention being gay. You picked the one month in the entire year that's dedicated to them to complain about their existence and call them "deranged". And then you have the audacity to say you "bear no ill will" towards them? Bullshit.

I can only assume the word "pride" scares you because you're a Christian and it's a sin, am I right? Well here's something ironic: lust is also a sin, yet your entire blog not only consists of Gale thirst posts, but you're also stealing Tim Downie's voice to make audio clips using AI. Hmmm, I wonder if God would approve of a married woman posting NSFW content and using a man's voice for her hedonistic writings without his consent. 🤔

And by the way, as a veteran DnD player I can tell you right now that Mystra has done some absolutely VILE shit to her followers. She's not perfect. None of the gods in DnD are. They're flawed and often cruel. I've seen you compare Mystra and Gale to stories in the Bible, but that almost feels blasphemous. Mystra has a history of evil deeds. She orchestrated Elminster's rape, made sure he had kids and never told him about them. She turned Volo into an anchor without his knowledge. She tortured a peasant because he refused to sleep with her, then killed his wife and punished him for crying about it. And don't even get me started on the "daughters" she created. The third Mystra (who has Mystra and Mystryl's memories) is cruel to Gale as well and the game gives so much context for that. Plus ALL the companions agree she's unreasonable and tell Gale to reject her, and if he does it leads to one of his most satisfying endings. He's happy, he's a teacher, he marries tav and everyone approves. Your way of playing isn't the only right way and people aren't wrong for criticizing Mystra. There's plenty about her that deserves to be criticized, as is the case with every god in the pantheon.

Speaking of, I have nothing against Christians, but I do when they use their faith to shame people and act like total hypocrites.

[thepatristictradition]

Your "Biblical World View" is just 19th Century Enlightenment Propaganda

Is it just me, or does everyone stroking their ego about how "Biblical" they are, and how "Bible-Believing" they are (protestants, always), always seem to never actually believe the Bible?

I think so many of the tumors growing on the back of Sola Scriptura (where is that in the Bible?) are a result of late enlightenment, materialist philosophies, built on a bedrock of a hermeneutics of suspicion.

I saw a horrific example of this when I read someone discount John John 8:7-11 because, "Well, that section of John wasn't written by John, actually. It was added by scribes, so you shouldn't take it as seriously." Like, what? If this is your take, do you just not believe in any of the Bible? If some part is less Divinely Inspired, if it is less the Word of God, how is any of the Bible to be believed?

This is very funny, please laugh.

What this does is create impossible win conditions verging on, "If Jesus didn't write the Bible with his own earthly hands and leave it on a table for John the Baptist (not Catholic) to copy by hand, then none of it is real." Do you see how stupid that is? It is very stupid, and also very much not the historical view of the Church.

Scripture is Divinely inspired and Inerrant. It is inspired by God and has no Errors. This does not mean all of Genesis as we have it now was written by Moses himself. But all the people who recorded it for him, translated it, recovered it, and edited it were divinely inspired, and their collective work is without error.

I don't care what kind of historiographic view you take on Gospel authorship-- I care that you actually believe in the Bible. This handwringing over, "oh, who really physically wrote xyz," is a product of actual Free Masons, no I am not kidding.

This is what singled-minded, scholarly fixations on the Bible will do to people, and this is exactly why the Church needs Tradition. Tradition is why we have the Bible in the first place-- you're welcome, by the way. Tradition teaches you how to interpret the Bible. It is nothing less than the height of hubris to assume you know better, you are more imbued with the Holy Spirit, and more worthy of interpreting the scriptures than men who knew the apostles personally.

[d1xonss]

Desert Rose

Chapter 63 ~ Death's Deaf Ears

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Rose

✧ Era : Season 5

✧ Word Count : 5.9k

In this chapter ~ Grief was an odd thing, and it seemed to come when someone least expected it. As Rose mourned the loss of a girl who had truly touched her heart, she finds that the hits just keep on coming as yet another person falls victim to their fate.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ROSE POV *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Numb. That's all I felt. Utterly and painfully numb.

After Beth died right in front of my eyes, something changed. Losing her was something I never thought I would ever experience, but here I was, continuously living my life without her. I didn't know how I would move on from this; I didn't even know if I could move on. It seemed like the most impossible thing in the world. She was always this little light at the end of a very dark tunnel, so positive, happy, and having her ripped away from me was one of the hardest things I think I would ever have to experience.

Daryl kept his promise; we buried her. I couldn't stop crying as I watched the dirt being piled on top of her, nor could Maggie. I still could hardly look at her, feeling ashamed and guilty as if it were somehow my fault. All I remember was Glenn holding her tight as Gabriel said some words from the bible, a moment of silence following after he was done.

Although the silence wasn't exactly silent.

Maggie and I sobbed throughout the entire thing as the others around us let a few tears spill as well for the loss. I remember just staring at her grave and nothing else, thinking about the last moments I had with her. Though no amount of time would've ever been enough. I was so angry. She was the last person on earth that deserved to pass so cruelly, and I hoped to God that the bitch who killed her rotted in hell forever.

Her funeral was two weeks ago, but somehow that's all I could remember. I stopped paying attention to where we were going. I stopped attempting to eat much of anything. I stopped caring about everything as a whole. The only thing I found I started to do, was push people away. I didn't have the energy to talk...I didn't even have the energy to care.

I distanced myself from them every chance I got. To be completely honest I didn't know why I was doing it, I was just completely heartbroken, and it felt like it was the only way I could cope. Nobody could say or do anything to make the pain go away, or to make me feel better at all. I just followed them wherever they decided to go, not caring about which direction we went or where our final destination would land. I was just trying to survive.

The group talked about the difference between surviving and living one night around the fire that one long winter, and I think I was finally starting to understand what they meant. Living is actually enjoying the life and opportunities you're given, basking in it almost, but surviving is just...surviving. You're just moving, eating, and drinking to stay alive, not for a purpose. It was depressing but it was true.

Over time, everyone was starting to get the hint that I wanted to be left alone...well, everyone except Daryl. He could never seem to leave my side no matter what. Every time I would go off into the woods by myself to have some peace and quiet, he would wordlessly follow right behind me. He would offer me the rest of his food when he noticed I didn't eat much. He somehow was always clung to my side, worry only consuming him more every passing day when he looked at me.

Don't get me wrong, I loved this man more than anything in this world, but I didn't want him to be constantly hovering over me the way he was, and he sure as hell knew that. He knew how badly I wanted to be left alone, but he just wouldn't allow it as if he feared I would just walk right up to a walker and let it attack me. I wasn't suicidal by any means, even though it wouldn't be that mind blowing if I was. I just needed space, desperately wanting him to understand that.

But I never put up much of a fight whenever the familiar pattern occurred, because I knew if I did, I would absolutely lose it. With everything I was bottling up inside, I knew I would freak out on him, and that wasn't something he deserved. But holy shit was he testing my patience.

That's why when I overheard the group mention something about a place that Noah wanted to visit, his old neighborhood, I wordlessly got up to join them. It took them all a bit by surprise that I was willing to come along, but they didn't seem to question it as I figured they silently appreciated the extra hands to help out. But the truth was I just needed to get away.

It was as if I were constantly suffocating when I was here with the rest of the group. So, it felt like a breath of fresh air when we all finally piled into the car, silently heading towards the old sanctuary that Noah was so anxious to see.

I sat in the very back of the vehicle next to Glenn, briefly hearing the conversation Ty and Noah were having all the way up front as I stared off into space. Though their voices were too muffled to make out any clear kind of word. Leaning my head against the coolness of the window, my tired eyes watched the trees pass by in a flash with how fast we were moving.

Tears slipped from my eyes as they usually did, from the utter exhaustion and depressive feeling that constantly weighed me down, but I just subconsciously wiped them away as more came to fall down my cheeks. It had sadly become a regular habit that haunted me, not knowing anymore if I was crying because my body was begging for sleep, or if I was crying because of the crushing loss. Perhaps it was both.

These past couple weeks I've just been a complete mess of emotions all the time, and I was growing tired of seeing how everyone else looked at me. All I saw was nothing but pity in their eyes every damn time, and I hated it. I didn't want or need anyone to feel sorry for me, but they still did anyways, and I found I had to tell myself that it was something that I unfortunately couldn't control.

Glenn continuously kept subtly stealing glances at me every time I moved my hand up to wipe my cheeks, watching it happen from the corner of my eye. Not even needing to look over and see his face, I sensed his eyebrows were knitted together in concern. They always were.

His hand then hesitantly moved over toward me, landing gently on my knee as he gave it a light squeeze, trying to offer some sort of comfort. My eyes looked over to him, seeing him sending me a small, yet reassuring smile, but I only scooted further away from his touch.

My gaze panned back out the window, my head now turned completely away from him as I heard him sigh quietly in defeat. I didn't let it bother me though as I started to absentmindedly play with Beth's bracelet that was now on my wrist.

Looking down at the woven colorful strings, made me think of the very moment I gave it to her. It was during one of the nights we spent together talking for hours on end, remembering her mentioning how her friends used to make cheap friendship bracelets, and she missed old times like that. So, on the next run I went on, I made sure to keep an eye out for any kind of string so I could make her something special just like she had in the old world.

When I found the supplies and made it for her, she was absolutely overjoyed to see the bright strings tied together to make a colorful band just like the one she had in the past. It hit me then and there that she was one of the few people I would do just about anything for. Like hunting down that new guitar and teaching her more songs, or singing with her in front of the group just to make her happy, or making sure to take care of Judith when she needed a little break.

More tears pooled in my eyes at the thought of never doing anything special for her again. Never having the late night talks we used to share, or never hearing her sing ever again. I was going to miss her voice. She was such a pure soul, and now she was gone. Ripped away selfishly from all of us forever.

Sighing to myself, I wiped my eyes once again and tried to stop my emotions from spilling all over the place, wanting to gather myself as much as I could as to not let Glenn see me completely break down. Luckily the car coming to a halt snapped me out of my thoughts and I looked around to see that we had finally made it after the long drive.

We all climbed out of the car and I trailed behind everyone as they led the way, a machine gun held loosely in my hands. It was a longer walk through the trees before we finally came up to the gated neighborhood, Glenn being the first one to climb up and peer over to the inside. Though he only seemed to glance around the street on the other side for a moment or two, before looking back down towards us and shaking his head sadly.

For some reason, it didn't click in my mind back at the hospital what Rick was talking about when he mentioned Noah wanting to go home. But I understood now, wanting to get back to his community that he was once ripped away from, the family and friends that he thought were here waiting for him. But we all silently knew just by Glenn's action meant that none of them made it through something that happened recently.

Noah's eyes widened as the realization hit him like a bus, quickly limping over toward the opposite side of the guarded place, hopping over the edge to see for himself what was left inside. We all followed his lead quickly as we didn't know where he would go, rushing over the gate just as he was nearly jogging down the streets, desperately trying to see if anyone was left alive.

The kid didn't stop, not even when Rick called out for him quietly, only slowing down the second he saw a few dead bodies ahead lying on the concrete, along with a few walkers wandering around on the grass. He broke down completely and fell to the ground, starting to sob in the middle of the street at the loss of his people. My heart broke for him, knowing the feeling all too well when we all got separated back at the prison. Thinking your family is dead- or worse, knowing your family is dead, is just about the worst feeling in the entire world.

The walkers that were still lingering around the area suddenly began to take notice of the sobbing boy, their eyes then panning over to the rest of us in pure hunger and desperation. I watched as Michonne wordlessly took out her sword to take care of them before they could get any closer to us, but I stopped her with a wave of my hand.

"I got them." I muttered under my breath, taking out a few knives as they only inched closer.

Four of them managed to make their way over, spread out from each other, making it easier for me to take them on. I gripped the knife in my hand tightly before chucking it at one of their heads, watching it slowly fall to its knees before completely crashing onto the concrete below.  I easily killed another, spinning around out of its reach right before it could grab me, kicking its leg out from under it before stabbing it in the back of the head.

I quickly retrieved my other knife from the dead walker's head, before stabbing the next one coming at me straight through its eye. Though with everything going on, my attention being drawn in too many different directions, I seemed to lose sight of the fourth. But right as that thought ran through my mind, familiar loud growls were heard from just behind my frame, giving me no chance to react.

In the split second I whipped around to face the monster, the steel of a sword was going straight through its head before it could sink its teeth into me, the blade almost poking me in the nose with how close it was to my face. The walker fell harshly to the ground by my boots when the weapon was retracked back, revealing Michonne huffing like she had to rush over to make it just in time.

I scoffed as I put my knives back in place around my hips, "I told you had it." I spoke stubbornly.

She looked slightly taken aback, "You had it, huh?" she asked, following me the moment I tried to walk away, "You got a death wish or something? I was helping you."

"Don't." I snapped, turning around to face her again, "I don't recall the last time I needed anyone's supervision, I'm fine."

She surprisingly wasn't frustrated at my snappy tone, her calmness never fading as she looked at me with the same damn pity I had been witnessing constantly. "You didn't need to take that on alone."

I silently knew the double meaning behind her words, and it just made me scoff, "I'm fine." I repeated before I continued to walk away.

But the more I began to think, the faster I got my second wind, turning around with a pointed finger in her direction, "You think I haven't noticed the way everyone's been staring at me lately? Like I'm so fragile or something that you have to tiptoe around me. But I'm the same exact person that's dealt with one loss after another...and this isn't any different."

I felt my face get hot with how much emotion was suddenly filling my voice, spinning around on my heel the second my sentence was finished so she wouldn't see me crumble. I knew she was just trying to help, but again, I didn't need people thinking that I was weak just because I lost somebody important.

My steps became slowly hesitant as I approached the group once more, seeing Noah in the same spot on the ground as he cried with his head in his hands. Though Rick saw me coming out of the corner of his eye, walking up to speak to me lowly.

"Listen, we're planning on picking through a few houses to gather up what we can. Try and get Noah back on his feet to come back with us...you good with that?"

I shrugged, "It doesn't matter."

"It does." he insisted.

I didn't bother to answer him as I just simply turned around to head into the few houses that were the closest to me, wanting to grab whatever was left inside before we were ultimately back on the road with the others. I hadn't brought my bag, but I could only assume there would be at least one in the houses I picked through, something to carry everything back. Rick called after me, but I just ignored him and kept going, itching to finally be alone for once in what felt like forever.

I walked up to the closest structure I saw and went in through the garage. I opened and shut the door loudly behind me to alert any potential walkers inside to make themselves known. But when I was only met with silence, I took that as my cue to head in deeper as I trucked up the stairs into the living room. Right away I spotted an old backpack hanging on a doorhandle, peeking inside to see if there was anything useful, but it was only a few crumpled folders and a poetry book. I scanned the cover, the title seeming to intrigue me a bit as I decided to keep it before slinging the bag over my shoulder to look for supplies.

I raided through the kitchen and was only met with one can of beans and two cans of corn left in the cabinets. Down the hall were a few extra rooms to pick through as I silently hoped to have a little more success. I checked out the bathroom first, wanting to see if there was some medication I could bring back. All I was met with were some empty pill bottles and some really expired tums, but I did a double take when I looked in the mirror.

It was safe to say I looked terrible. There were bags under my eyes that could carry someone's groceries, and the cuts on my cheek and neck were almost completely healed; but scarred like a mother fucker. Though I was silently thankful that whoever stitched me up at the hospital picked the stiches that dissolve on their own so I wouldn't have to worry about taking them out myself. That would've been a bitch to do.

I then headed toward the few bedrooms that had yet to be checked, finding the master didn't have much to offer other than a few clean shirts that I managed to take. Even the bathroom attached to the space hardly had anything at all, but I was lucky enough to find some tampons. Lord only knows how scarce those were. I put the box in my bag whilst I looked toward the remaining bedrooms, one looking to be a child's. There was clearly nothing worth taking from there which led me to the final room on the right, assuming it was a teenagers based on the decorations.

My eyes scanned to see the space was pretty clean, but my attention was immediately drawn to the object that sat tall on the twin bed. A guitar.

A lump formed in my throat as I looked at the instrument, biting the inside of my cheek to try to keep myself together. I felt my shoulders sag in defeat as I slowly lowered myself to sit on the ground, exhaling a shaky breath as I thought about the one girl that hadn't left my mind for one second in the passing weeks. She was everywhere. Everywhere I looked there would be some sort of sign that she was there with me.

The first night after she passed, I had to move away from the sleeping group because I couldn't stop sobbing, fearing I was being too loud. It was the only time I was able to sneak off without Daryl following close behind me, feeling as though I could actually get away. I didn't know if he did it on purpose or if he just didn't realize. But in the back of my mind, I knew that he was aware, he just wanted me to have a moment to mourn by myself.

I walked further into the woods as I tried desperately to pull myself back together, my head tilting up toward the sky in attempt to stop the waterfall of tears from falling. But that action caused me to catch a glimpse of a shooting star passing through the night sky, just like the first night I had grieved the loss of Hershel. It was like her own little sign of telling me that not only was she safe, but she was with her dad again. And it only made me cry harder.

After that, the signs just kept appearing over and over. Like a single flower blooming in the middle of a dead, yellow field. Or when I came across a tree with just the single letter B carved into the wood of the trunk. And now this guitar sitting before me, almost mocking me. She was everywhere I looked, and I didn't know whether to find comfort or sadness in that aspect.

My head then snapped up when I heard the sound of the door beside me creaking open, seeing Glenn standing there with a sorrowful look on his face. I mentally groaned that he was witnessing this yet again, looking away from him as I dried my eyes, feeling him come to sit down right beside me without uttering a word.

I didn't know if I wanted his company or not, but frankly my mind was too scrambled to even think about it for too long. So, I let him stay. He was silent for a while as I put myself together again, before his gaze landed on the one thing I kept glancing back to, hearing him sigh to himself in defeat.

"I miss her too."

"Stop." I cut him off, sniffling and pulling up my sleeves to help dry my cheeks.

He shook his head insistently, "Ro, you don't have to go through this alone, just let us help-"

"I'm still grieving." I breathed, now looking over at him, "Have you said any of this to Maggie? Have you even uttered a word to her about Beth?"

His silence spoke louder than my own voice did, and he didn't need to say a word for me to know the answer. "I didn't think so." I muttered.

Another long and loud silence passed as he truly didn't know what to say to me anymore. It made me think about how the hell we even got here, the losses we've taken only driving us further apart while we mourned in different ways.

"I'm sorry." he finally whispered, "I know how close you were with her, but-"

"No, no," I said, shaking my head, "But nothing. I was close with her, and then I lost her, and now I'm grieving...end of story."

"But you don't need to do it alone." he nearly pleaded.

I shook my head again in disbelief, "You don't get it." I let out a breathy, humorless laugh, "I was alone my whole life...I never got too close to anyone, and that's the only way I knew. I've never lost anybody like this before, not one this tragic. All of you can understand what it feels like to lose someone important...but I have no idea what it's like. This is all so new to me...losing someone I cherished so much. And...I need to figure it out on my own."

When I finally got the nerve to look him in the eye after spilling my heart out, there was a clear mist of tears glistening in his eyes at the feeling I described, easily sensing he wanted nothing more but to wrap me in a tight hug. But he didn't. He was scared it would only make me uncomfortable, push me away further, so he just stayed put as he thought about his next words carefully.

"Daryl slipped up one night...a long time ago about how, um..." he swallowed thickly, "About how you tried to run after Sophia died." he quietly admitted.

My eyes slightly widened as I made a mental note to kill Daryl later. "I just- I don't know...I guess I'm just making sure you don't run this time...because I can't lose you too, Ro."

His emotions were clear as day as he fully bared his soul to me it seemed like, my heart nearly shattering at the thought of him worrying that I would just disappear. I didn't want him to think that, I didn't want anyone to think that. I just needed to process all the emotions and difficulties for however long it took. I wasn't going to just run away, because the truth was, that would break me even more.

"I'm not going to run," I promised as I looked over at him sadly, "I'm staying right here...I just need some time...okay?"

He nodded slowly, "Okay..."

But the moment we were having, even if it was a small one, was completely cut short as the front door of the house opened and closed with a slam, followed by rushed footsteps until Rick suddenly appeared in the doorway, "Come on! Tyreese was bit!" he spoke in a panic.

Barely even processing the words he was saying, his franticness was all it took for me to jump to my feet and sprint behind the man to get out of the house as quickly as we could. My legs were moving faster and faster as my heart was harshly beating out of my chest. I didn't care how badly my lungs burned or how tired I felt from the lack of rest I'd been getting; I was determined to get to him. To save him.

We all rushed inside the house to find him in one of the bedrooms, laying on the floor and bleeding out profusely. All the color was drained from his face as he had a hazy look in his eye like he was about to pass out from the blood loss. Rick hurried over and pulled his arm out as far as he could, catching a glimpse of where the bite mark was embedded in his flesh. Though it didn't even look like the movement had affected him at all as he laid there almost limply.

Michonne quickly whipped out her sword and with one swipe, she was able to cut his limb clean off. I just stood there in shock, not being able to move or even breathe as I watched them slice his arm completely from his body. I told myself I'd save him, but I couldn't even do that. The scene was so gruesome and horrible, almost too much to even fathom right now.

Rick and Glenn didn't hesitate to find some kind of sheet to wrap around what was left of his arm to slow down the bleeding, before then hauling him up to help him out of the house, the man's weight resting heavily on their shoulders. I snapped out of my sudden trance as soon as they brushed passed me, not hesitating to follow them out of the house and back down towards the gate.

I kept up them as the two practically jogged with him in their grasp, the others just behind us as the gate was slowly coming into view, yet just out of reach. But we had to think fast, climbing back over wasn't exactly an option and the gate was chained shut, the sound of walkers now on the other side as they tried to claw their way in.

"We have to break the lock!" Rick yelled.

I nodded frantically, rushing over to fumble with the thick chains before they finally became loose enough to open up the large wooden doors, sending the walkers from the outside piling in toward us. I reached for my bow and started to fire arrows at the ones coming our way while Noah held Tyreese up and away from the chaos, trying to get him to keep his eyes open.

The rest of us fought off the corpses one by one so we could make our way through, needing to get him back to the car as fast as possible. We managed to kill them off within only seconds, Rick and Glenn quickly turning back to help him up as the rest of us ran ahead to make sure the area was clear. We booked it towards the car through the familiar route we took earlier, my eyes constantly darting back multiple times to see Ty still awake, yet barely conscious.

Killing a few more dead ones along the way, we eventually all picked him up one limb at a time while Noah directed us back to the vehicle just ahead of us. The pace we were once going was far too slow, and when we saw the amount of his blood staining the sheet that he held loosely, we knew we had to pick up the pace. I felt the sadness building as I tried to hold it together, shaking my head to try and prevent it from happening. He had to stay alive. I couldn't lose myself in my emotions if I wanted him to stay alive.

After what felt like ages, we finally made it to the van, pushing myself to get in first to help lower him onto the middle row so he would be laying down flat on his back. I held onto his legs while his head was resting on the opposite window, Glenn and Michonne quickly climbing over to get in the back. Rick ran around to the front as Noah got in the passenger seat and as soon as the kid closed the door with a slam, Rick floored it to race back to the others.

My chest rose and fell with every heavy breath, looking over at Tyreese's face to see his eyes start to grow heavy, my hand immediately tapping on his leg so he wouldn't pass out.

"Come on Ty, stay awake." I said, trying hard to hide the desperation in my voice.

He lazily opened his eyes once again and I sighed in relief, "We're getting closer, just hold on. You're going to be okay...you're going to be fine."

I kept lightly tapping his leg, praying that he would stay conscious as my other hand moved to now put more pressure on his gaping wound. The car swerved around back and forth aggressively, Rick trying to speed as fast as he could to make it back. I could hear Noah yelling the directions at him frantically, which ways to turn, but it all just ended up fuzzy in my mind, not being able to focus on anything as my mind spiraled.

My gaze shifted down once more to check on him again, but his eyes were now completely closed. I tried to keep calm as I saw his state, tapping on his leg a bit harder to get his eyes to flutter open again.

"Ty?" I asked.

He didn't flinch.

"Ty? Tyreese, open your eyes."

Rick's head spun around at the sound of my words, hearing him sigh dreadfully in defeat, but I didn't give up as I only shook him harder in the bumpiness of the car. "Tyreese you have to open your eyes. Open your eyes. Come on." I begged.

I felt the car begin to slow down to a stop and instinctively looked out the window to see we were pulled over onto the side of the road. Panic flooded through me, quickly hopping out of the car along with everyone else. They all pulled Tyreese out of the van, but he still stayed unresponsive, my eyes widening as I instantly pushed Noah and Glenn out of the way and got down on my knees next to him.

I leaned down to rest my ear against his chest, trying to listen for a heartbeat, but was met with nothing. No. He wasn't going to die. I quickly shot back up and folded my hands together, starting to firmly push over his heart to start CPR, mentally counting to thirty as I tuned everything else out.

"Rosie." I heard Rick's distant voice from behind me, but I ignored him.

I kept counting silently in my head, tilting his head up to breathe into his mouth twice before going back to push on his chest, counting again. I briefly heard them talking around me, but I couldn't bring myself to hear, focusing on him and him alone to try and keep him alive.

"Rose." Rick tried again, sadness filling his voice.

I ignored him once more as I aggressively pressed on Tyreese's chest again and again, before suddenly feeling his hand wrap around my arm in attempt to pull me back, "No." I snapped, ripping myself out of his hold to keep going.

I felt his hand pull me again, "No! Rick, no!" I yelled as I fought to get away from his grasp.

"Rose, come on." he spoke quietly.

His voice and protests meant nothing to me. I couldn't let him die. But both of his hands suddenly brought my arms back, pulling me away from his body, "No! I can save him! Please!" I screamed as I thrashed around to try and get out of his hold.

But he didn't let me go, slowly inching me further away from him, "I can save him! I can save him Rick, please!" I pleaded desperately as tears began to stream down my face once more.

He got down on his knees and held me back by my shoulders as I saw Michonne slowly walking over towards his head. "No! No, please don't! Let me save him!"

But my words only fell on deaths deaf ears, everyone around me sadly ignoring my protests as they all knew what needed to be done. I kept fighting, begging for them to listen to me, squirming harshly in Rick's arms as he tried to shush me.

"Don't look Rosie...don't look." he whispered right beside my ear, his arms squeezing me softly.

And before I could even bat an eye, Michonne quickly stabbed Tyreese in the head with her sword in one swift motion, squeezing her eyes shut as she listened to my sobs.

"No!" I yelled, watching his blood trickle down her weapon as my vison only blurred more with tears.

Rick gently pulled me closer to his chest as I continued to cry, whispering reassuring things that only I could hear, but I couldn't be bothered to listen. My eyes didn't stray away from Tyreese's dead body in front of me, feeling a fantom weight beginning to crush me at yet another person I couldn't save.

I mindlessly watched from a distance as Gabriel once again read from the bible at another dreadful funeral. Everyone around his grave was taking turns to scoop some dirt to cover him more and more, but I just couldn't force myself to do it. My eyes were puffy, my stomach churned as I felt like I could throw up with how much not only I've lost, but what we've all lost. I could see so clearly that everyone was holding on by a thread, and I was only finding myself closer to my own breaking point.

My eyes lingered on Sasha as she fiddled with the necklace that used to be around Tyreese's neck and brought it to her lips to kiss, the beanie he always wore being placed on the makeshift cross above where he would rest peacefully. It couldn't have been more devastating.

Looking up, I saw that Gabriel was finished and people were slowly starting to disperse after their silent goodbyes. Finding myself leaving as quickly as I could. Not because I wanted to, but because I could hardly stand to look at the scene any longer. My steps were slow and heavy as I began to walk back to the makeshift camp we had set up, but I quickly felt a presence lingering behind me. And I didn't need to turn around to know who it was, the sting of his eyes on me was all too familiar.

He wanted to say something to me, I could sense how desperately he was trying to find the right words. But the truth was, we hadn't uttered a thing to each other since Beth, and I silently knew he had no idea how to even approach me anymore. However, that was the least of my concerns. He was breathing, and that seemed to be all that mattered to me.

All I could focus on now, was surviving.

~ Thanks for reading! (Whew, this one was hard to get through just like the last. It really doesn't get easier does it?)

Taglist ~ @justareader95 @hayley1998 @ryoujoking @sipsthecoffee @winterassassin1804 @marsmallow433 @catlalice @writingstreetspirit @silentlysuffering @mystictf @remuslittlesister

[breathlesswordsbloodyknees]

Change and Divine Judgment

Alright y'all, I keep telling myself I need to write something light and fluffy, but instead this is what came out. I'd like to say I promise I'm not always this intense, I am going through a lot right now...but tbh I'm not sure how true that is. This is a bit of a doozy. But, I do think it ends on hope. I know it's one I needed to see laid out. And I hope...well, I hope it helps someone out there too.

Please have empathy for me and yourself while you read. Thanks in advance for taking the time.

Expanding on Sauron's redemption failure, regarding discussions about Eru/Manwe/Eonwe judgment, coming from my post Narrative Doom. (I'm sorry, I can't be bothered with the umlauts)

TRIGGER WARNING including but not limited to: Religious trauma relating to Christianity, biblical discussion, grief, mental health, and other heavy emotional topics.

—

To Start

Personally, due to a good smattering of religious trauma, I struggle with higher power forgiveness. Heavy evangelical/baptist upbringing that we're working on deconstructing.

In regards to the Eonwe/Manwe/Eru dynamic with Sauron’s judgment, I have a lot of thoughts. It's great for fanworks and symbolism and characterization and the like, don't get me wrong.

But it's itchy for me. This form of redemption that's all or nothing, more of a test—and usually a pretty rigged one. Absolute redemption or total damnation if you fail.

—

It echoes the Book of Job in my head. While this story isn't directly about judgment, as with Eru and crew, I think it does highlight the intricacies of divine testing.

Very reductive Bible take ahead, fair warning:

Basically, he was a man favored by God with wealth and protection, until Satan proposed a contest to test Job’s faith. (I keep swimming around Mairon and Melkor here)

And God agrees, “Yeah, alright, let's do it. You can raze his lands, cause him bodily harm, and take everything from him. Sure, kill his whole family. But just don't kill him.”

God put Job through the fucking wringer and he's expected to be grateful about it. All to settle a tiff between cosmic beings.

In the end, he more or less tells Job, “Hey! It's all good, I'll bless you with a bunch of animals and some brand-new kids. They'll be better than the old ones, don't worry about it.”

And that's how the story ends.

—

Even as a kid, I would sit and stew on this.

Aside from the lessons to be learnt about steadfast faith throughout suffering, what does Job think of all this? How does he feel?

Does he miss his favorite goat who he could always sit and find comfort with? Does the warmth of the sunrise over his vast fields seem different, marred by the memory of fire from heaven?

Let alone that—Does he miss his kids? Does he see echoes of them in the faces of his new ones?

Does he think about his former life the way I think of my pizza pocket shirt, left behind in an ex’s house or laptops I've lost filled with old stories? Or the person I was before the mistakes and trauma?

All that is gone for good, nothing to be done. But there's always that tugging inside.

We don't know, we're not given any of that in the Bible. Instead, we're given an almost throwaway passage detailing the flocks of animals he receives, how cool his new kids are, and how long he lives. It never sat right with me, his divine reward.

—

Job is a paragon of faith, a success story, a parable. But in Sauron’s case, he’s the opposite, a ‘cautionary tale’.

I hate it I hate it I hate it

Eru and crew set the stakes high: redemption or damnation, and in my (flawed) recollection of canon, this is just about the only chance Sauron gets for forgiveness. He's given a choice and he chooses wrong.

Thinking about Job and Sauron both, I'm left wondering: How much is approval in the eyes of the divine really worth? Does the spiritual ‘win’ truly wash the suffering away?

Many people would say yes, absolutely. I think that's beautiful.

I know the teachings about God’s all-encompassing forgiveness, enduring faith through hardship, “Be anxious for nothing” Phillipians 4:6-7, your sins can be washed away in the Light of the Lord. And I don't blame people who find comfort and peace in that—honestly, I greatly envy them.

(though I have my bitterness, you can tell. we're working through that)

But for some of us, especially the ones who can't seem to pass the test, no matter how much they study, I need to dig deeper. Is it really all or nothing? What is your worth outside of divine approval, if it can't be achieved? They say everything can be forgiven, but what of Judas? What of Saul? What of Sauron?

–

It makes me have to consider some things: It’s very true that “repenting in fear” and changing for other people isn't conducive to real growth. We can't expect Galadriel to swoop in and pull him out of the darkness by herself. And neither can Sauron, no matter how much we eat up the “you bind me to the light” line. It's delicious though

That's not a fair burden to put on her or anyone else. By no means am I saying that it is, you can't 'fix' people. “Heal yourself” is spot on.

(I could go down into the details of the lead up and differences of the S1 rejection vs the S2 rejection, but that's a rabbit to chase later)

In the broader framework of ‘how far gone is too far gone,’ (discussed in Narrative Doom), it’s just…when we take into account the reality that people (even Maiar) are fallible…

I mean, isn't that where a lot of us start with change? In shame and fear and guilt? Looking at something ugly inside you and freaking out about it? When you're lost in a bad way, that can feel like all you have to work with.

And sometimes a hand on your shoulder means everything, even if it's not pulling you up.

—

I touched on this before: the tension between good intentions vs bad actions feels like holding coals in your hands.

(Actions matter more than intent, I greatly believe. The impact on others is essential over the 'why' of it; however, I find myself caught in the nuances behind that belief. Intentions and motivations do have weight—to a certain degree. I digress; that's yet another rabbit)

It's all so very easy to tell yourself that the dark is too much to claw your way out of. You convince yourself you're stuck—not only believing that you can't reach for anything greater, but also that you don't deserve better. It's all so very easy to just throw it away and not look at it, hide it in a corner under dirty laundry. To go back to “former habitations,” well-worn grooves, harmful comforting behaviors.

So while Sauron is absolutely culpable for his actions and his moral failures, I, well…I can relate. I can understand.

I've been there, staring down the face of divine judgment and potential forgiveness, but unable to do and feel what you're supposed to, what you're expected to. It makes you angry, it makes you lash out. It's a vicious, bitter cycle.

—

Then I circle back to The Good Place quotes I used. “What matters isn't if people are good or bad. What matters is if they're trying to be better today than they were yesterday.”

For an objectively ‘villainous’ character like Sauron, recognizing and processing his attempts at change is difficult—if not impossible. Especially since we know his narrative ending.

From an outside view, it doesn't matter. He does evil, he rejects redemption, and he fails the test set for him by higher powers. What are his weak attempts worth if he just falls off anyways?

—

Internally, personally, though, I have to believe each little step, each timid shuffle is worth something, even if it's followed by three steps back. Otherwise, I'll give up. I'll throw the baby out with the bathwater. I'll run off into the woods and never return. Byeeeeee.

So I have to remind myself: Cleaning a single dish is better than letting the pile loom.

(which I know some people vehemently disagree with, insisting that if you're gonna do it, you need to do it all and do it right. I hear Ron Swanson's voice in my head: “Never half-ass two things. Whole-ass one thing.”)

For some of us though, particularly in dark times, those tiny little inconsequential acts are monumental. How are we supposed to change if we see it as meaningless?

I just don't think there's such a thing as ‘absolute’ redemption and total forgiveness; it's a gritty, painful process, forever ongoing. At least it has been for me. The dishes will always loom. But we can pick up and wash a fork.

[actual-changeling]

Why are people looking at Aziraphale and seeing a completely different character from who he is? Why do they think he’s a leader? He never showed leadership skills. Why do they think it’s so unlikely that Aziraphale doesn’t listen a word of Crowley’s confession when Aziraphale hasn't listened to a single word Crowley has told him the entire season? Why do they feel the need to see Aziraphale as a hero who can never do wrong? He totally disregards Crowley’s feelings in the final 15 and I’m so mad about the fact that some people think that Crowley should apologize or that he was too slow to pick up some fucking clues that exist only in the minds of Aziraphale’s hardcore defenders.

Honestly, I think it's because some people have problems separating themselves from Aziraphale as a character simply because they see one or more of their own traits reflected in him.

By trying to make him out to be better than he is and defending him, they're trying to justify those traits to themselves (and others). Once you get down to it, there's a lot of people talking about how they would have done the same in Aziraphale's place—and they cannot admit that hey, maybe that choice is fucked up and hurts the people around you.

Maybe your refusal to work on yourself isn't "noble" and "angelic" but part of a bigger problem and based on a fundamental lack of self-reflection. Aziraphale puts his own comfort above everything else, so of course he appeals to people that do the same.

Then there's the whole religious aspect which has people on the barricades immediately because how dare you imply that an angel could ever do something that is not kind and good and selfless; like okay, go preach your fucked up christian ideology elsewhere, not in the bible satire fandom.

It IS frustrating, people go and call Crowley bad and evil and give him the worst intentions because he's a demon, say reason why they try to make everything about Aziraphale seem great and nice. By acknowledging the fact that

a) Aziraphale has been hurting Crowley for centuries

b) he fucked up

c) Crowley has nothing to apologize for,

they're forced to confront that hey, maybe I've also fucked up in the past. Aziraphale is in a bad place, he needs to change, and by refusing to understand that, people are really just saying that THEY don't want to work on themselves.

It's personal, plain and simple, and somehow that makes it okay to go harass people who don't blindly follow the Aziraphale Defense Squad or whatever shit they wanna call themselves. I have absolutely no sympathy left after everything that went down.

[anniflamma]

Man, I'm going a bit crazy with the idea of Mephiboseth and Absalom a bit here like, for starters Mephisboseth has to deal with the whole drama that if it wasn't because he had already been injured that the people who took care of him would have never loved him or let him live long enough as he is now. Cuz he is the heir of Jonathan after all, but also its the exact reason that he is the son of Jonathan that David cares about the boy so much, maybe just as much as Solomon, even though it isn't so noticeable when there's a lot of the problems in the family that arouse due to David's many wives and children.

One of which is of course Absalom. And to an extent I feel like he would become jealous but, I also like to think about he would grow out of that when he sees that 1)Mephisboseth poses no threat to him, heck less threat than his brothers currently do, 2) He seems a bit more lonely in the regard that he is the only heir of a lost family whose only person he could call a familiar being the maid that saved and keeps caring for him like a mother. And 3) Maybe the idea of Tamar being close to Mephisboseth would be nice to write about (but will also add a sadder tone when Mephisboseth can't do anything about what's going to happen to Tamar. 😔) especially considering how her other bothers might be.

Like maybe Mephisboseth is also quite the contrast compared to Absalom who is pompous and extroverted in his own regard. Like even when the deals of the court get to be too much Absalom can go back to Mephisboseth because with him there's no need to put on a show so that he can look better than his two (one really, the second son seems to be as invisible as middle child gets) brothers. After some years he might not care much about his father's favoritism because well, he knows he is great enough by himself. Not as wise as Solomon but enough, probably because Mephisboseth and Tamar hype him up a lot. (And that care that Tamar shows to them probably is what makes Amnon so bitter to the point of committing horrible things in the first place. Because not only is he hurting Tamar, he also hurts Absalom who wasn't present at the one time Tamar needed her, and Mephisboseth who even if he was, wouldn't have been strong enough to help her— or maybe would have tried and ended up getting more hurt because of his disability.)

Either way of how you put the story, the tragedy will so deep throat that I can't stop thinking about it.

And sidenote, the fact that Siba was kept in charge of Mephiboseth during the rebellion of Absalom was just a little note honestly but my mind went to the idea that maybe, because Mephiboseth cares about Absalom so much he would have tried to help him in any way he can, and David— who had met in secret with Jonathan before, who knows the lengths he would have gone for to be with the one he loves– tries to impose him from meeting Absalom in the case that another son of his, the son of *Jonathan*, dies. (Not to mention he would also have broken his covenant with Jonathan if Mephiboseth were to die.)

Sorry mate. I'm so sorry but you are suffering with me after giving me this idea 😔

Hey, I have no problem suffering with you! Where are all my papers on Mephi/Absolom stuff!? 😫

I couldn't agree with you more on this! There are so many themes you could explore with a story about Mephiboseth. The conflicts... The emotional turmoil... aahh! I believe the dynamic between Absolom and Mephi would be such a fascinating aspect.

Mephiboseth suffered greatly from the trauma of his accident and the sudden loss of his father in one single day. Following this, Siba, Saul's servant, tended to him and relocated him to a place literary called “Nothing,” reinforcing Mephi’s belief that he is insignificant. Even in the Bible, his insecurity is evident as he refers to himself as “nothing more than a dead dog.” Therefore, when he gets an summon to David’s palace and meet the king and his family for the first time, I always wonder about what is his perspective? Does Mephi harbor resentment? Is there jealousy towards Absalom and David’s other sons who grew up in a luxurious palace— a life that was meant to be his? And imagine if Jonathan had survived, then Absalom and Mephiboseth would have grown up together as brothers….

And yhea, It is pretty much canon that Absolom and Mephiboseth are the opposite from each other. Like you said, one is beautiful, popular, pompous, extroverted and a prince. And the other is lame, introverted and a "nobody". Which is something I can eat everyday! I just love the opposite attracts trope!

For Absalom, he had grown up in a grand palace that strictly forbade the presence of anyone with disabilities. David, for a really stupid reason, held a strong dislike towards those who were blind or deaf. However, everything took a different turn when David brought a new child into the court, publicly declaring him as his own son and warning sternly that any harm towards the boy would be met with severe consequences. I think this sudden change could leave Absalom confused and somewhat resentful of his father's abrupt favoritism towards this random boy. He probably would feel jealous at first, but probably quickly shifts and not lingering on these emotions for long.

I also see that the relationship between David and Mephiboseth is not entirely healthy. David's protectiveness towards Mephiboseth could even borders to an obsession, stemming from his fear of losing "Jonathan” again. I thinks that Mephi would looks and resembling his father in every way, When Mephiboseth stands before him, David is overcome with emotion.

Picture him trembling on the floor before the king, uncertain of his fate, why he is here. In a surprising turn, David pulls him into a tight embrace, tears streaming down his face, perhaps softly uttering Jonathan's name. Confused and hesitant, Mephiboseth eventually returns the hug. 😭

David has good intentions and cares deeply for Mephiboseth, but his love for him seems to come with conditions. It raises the question of whether David's affection for Mephiboseth would remain unchanged if he were not Jonathan's son. The likely answer is no, something that Mephiboseth probably already knows about. The only reason David lifts the ban on disabled individuals entering the palace is because he desires to have Mephiboseth live with him and his family.

Then we have David's overprotectiveness during the rebellion. Despite being torn between loyalty to Absalom and David, Mephiboseth is forced to remain at the palace due to Siba's influence. Siba, believing that a lame person should not stand beside the King, prevents Mephiboseth from joining David but as well not allowed to follow Absalom. It could be that David might actually be alright with leaving Mephiboseth behind at the palace. A recurring theme in "The Prince’s Psalm" is how others underestimate David and try to forces him to stay low and at home. His family unknowingly hurts him when they are doing it. This mirrors how David unknowingly makes the same the mistreatment he endured from his brothers onto Mephiboseth.

There could be also a theme with David not viewing Mephibosheth as his own person. When Siba lies that Mephibosheth has betrayed David and that he has left the palace, David becomes enraged and gives all the inheritance that he would give to Mephibosheth to Siba instead, not taking time to think or ask for evidence. It also shows that he doesn’t really know Mephibosheth, that he immediately believes someone else's words. It gives the feeling of "putting him on a pedestal." What I'm trying to say here is that David loves Mephibosheth for Jonathan’s sake. It's a beautiful thing between David and Jonathan but not as much for Mephibosheth, if you know what I mean.

And there are so many parallels between David and Jonathan’s story with Absalom and Mephibosheth. It has the same story beats but the roles are reversed. The "shepherd" stays in the castle while the prince is on the run from the king.

Regarding Tamar, it's a very sensitive topic. The assault of Tamar in the Bible is only used as motivation for Absalom to start the rebellion. After that, Tamar isn't important narratively anymore. She is only mentioned once more after the assault, when Absalom names his firstborn after his sister. This act struck me as such sweet thing, cuz it's probably the only time in the Bible where a male character celebrates having a daughter. Personally, I've always been uncomfortable with female characters experiencing trauma solely to drive the motivations of male characters. As well as that a character would sexually abuse another character just to hurt someone else. Amnon comes across as nothing more than a creepy stalker in the bible, and I don't think he doesn't need any additional motivation for assaulting Tamar. Like you said, I really like the idea of having Mephibosheth and Tamar become good friends, leading Amnon to feel jealousy. But it wouldn’t be the main factor why he was harming Tamar in the first place. He was obsessed with her already and resorted to trickery to manipulate David into sending her alone to his bedchamber—a situation that would never have occurred if she hadn't been ordered or coerced into it. I do think that both Absalom and Mephi would blame themselves that they couldn't protect her but then Absalom redirects that resentment towards David. This would happened to Mephi as well but he becomes conflicted. That he don't want to blame David for forcing Tamar to be alone with Amnon at first but then realize it later. I'm not sure about what I could add to Tamar's story…. Perhaps keeping her involved in the story could enhance her character arc? For instance, instead of Siba aiding Mephibosheth in meeting Absalom secretly, maybe Tamar could fulfill this role instead? I dunno, I'm not sure.

Though if Mephibosheth and Absalom's relationship were romantic, then David would probably immediately spot it. 😅 I don’t think that he would mind in the beginning, and even it would make him reminisce his memories with Jonathan. But when Absalom starts the rebellion, he obviously sees him as a threat to Mephibosheth. And after Absalom’s death… Yeah, there we have the sad juice. David mourns for his son's death and we have Mephibosheth mourning too by David's side. It's like a reflection of Saul and Jonathan, but this time, it’s “David” who died. And it's the King and the “prince“ still living.

I WANT THIS TO BE A BOOK SO MUCH! 😫

[iniziare]

🔥 GO WILD

Prompt: Send me a “ 🔥 “ for an unpopular opinion. // Accepting. // @ccaptain

I don't think that there's a single thing that I feel as strongly about, as my opinions of the following two lines: 'Every portrayal is equal' and 'There are multiple interpretations of a character'. I think that they both play into harvesting and perpetuating the worst mentalities on Tumblr: insecurity and egos. I disliked the PSAs about the former back in 2013, I hated the transition of the former to the latter in 2015/2016, and I hate how the latter still seems to resonate around the RPC as if it's some sort of bible that does anyone any good. And before any potential 'but Sae, those are two different things', no, not really, they play into the same concept, it's simply the phrasing that changes to make it all the more mentally inclusive and sound more socially welcoming. But a bad message remains a bad message no matter how pretty its packaging is. It all plays into not wanting to hurt people's feelings, which I fully understand and it's even a noble cause at its basis, but coddling doesn't help people, it never has, and it has and will only continue to make people more sensitive (which is a topic for a different salt send-in), all the while demotivating and utterly frustrating others. I'm sorry folks, but not every portrayal is equal, there are people who will create a blog merely because a character is hot, or for social political reasons of 'look at me', or because they simply ache to write a fandom's popular ship, and they disappear as quickly as they come when the 'urge' has been fulfilled. Those, for instance, are not equal to people who put a lot of time into their portrayals, and I'm not saying that everyone needs to live up to the latter, but don't be telling me that everyone is equal on the mere premise that they all 'exist' and we should 'all support one another'. Not every portrayal is equal, not everyone's writing is equal, and people's understanding of a character will not always be equal. And these things aren't subjective, they are factual. There can be such clear differences between portrayals and ignoring them is actually doing an injustice to every single depiction out there. If you tell a blog that does minimal writing and seems to not have a great understanding of the character (yet?), or the worst one: seems to really not care— that they’re equal to everyone else, then you’re telling them, for starters, that they could have nothing to improve on. And trust me, I’ve seen it happen time and time again, people will not put in effort to improve if you tell them that there’s nothing to actually better. And of course simultaneously, you demotivate the ones that have stuck around for years and put much time into what they do on Tumblr. And that sucks pretty hardcore.

Now luckily, that first line has somewhat died out, but now in its stead, we're left with 'There are multiple interpretations of a character'. I don't know whether it's worse, better, or just equally as bad of a take. I vote for... worse, actually. — No, no one will ever convince me that if they wrote an OC, and then released them to the world, that they'd be okay if RPers anywhere would claim that one can read their OC multiple different ways. I've seen RPers on Tumblr blow up over much less. What I need people to realize and remember, is that all creators and writers alike, have an intent with their characters, and that isn't subjective. Just like personality traits aren't subjective. For instance, one can't look at Veritas Ratio and go 'he's confident' and have someone else state 'he's insecure', and say that both are factually true and that both takes are equal in 'value' if we look at accuracy, because they're not. They cannot both be true, and I'm not talking about minor details that can be considered to be 'exceptions', I'm talking about the rule. What I need people to admit to, more often than not, is that it seems to have become a common take to conflate what they want a character to be like with what they actually are. I sometimes can look at a character and objectively go 'I wish they had done this instead, focusing on this and this, or this part of their personality'. but if I then choose to portray the character like that instead, it doesn't mean that it's what the character that we ultimately see on screen is actually like. And admitting that it's not the case isn't a bad thing, being canon divergent isn't a bad thing, but it is entirely different from intending to write the character based on what we actually see.

[howaboutcastiel]

The Robe and Crown [18+]

The Robe and Crown: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Joel and Tommy are raiders. Not by choice, not for the thrill. They’re doing what they must to survive. So why, then, is Joel letting you tag along when you’re just another mouth to feed? [Series Masterlist]

CONTENT WARNING: dark fic. Weird fic? Like, Cult stuff. Beatings, whippings. Handmaid’s Tale level subjugation of women. Smut with dubious consent, past physical abuse. Past sexual abuse. TLOU-level violence and language. More warnings to be added if necessary?

If you think that the apocalypse can’t be any weirder, you’re asking it to prove you wrong. That’s the one thing Joel had learned in the three and half years since the world ended. He’d had some idea before of just how crazy some people out there were, but the things he had seen first-hand after outbreak day had changed his perspective on the world. 

Making their way north proved slower than they had anticipated. Joel and Tommy were traveling together in a pack of five total, hoping the rumors of more-humane QZs in New England were true. The married couple and ex-marine they had picked up in New Orleans were as skeptical as Joel, but Tommy maintained enough hope for all of them that there was something in Boston worth the journey. 

Now, though, stuck in winter in Appalachia and running low on food and gear, it was obvious that they were going to have to get creative. Joel had a plan to raid the stockpile at a nearby church—the place was free of infected, and had more than they could carry in the way of emergency supplies. Armed guards were stationed outside of the chapel, but they seemed easy enough to distract and, at this point, Joel had no problem with taking them down if it came to that. 

No problem at all. 

Joel had never claimed to be a good person. He knew what he was—a killer, a manipulator, a survivor. He knew he was violent, erratic, and ruthless. He knew that there was blood on his hands from people who deserved better. Joel knew that he was bad people, and he had come to terms with that. 

Still, Joel Miller wasn’t a monster. He wasn’t a sadist, wasn’t cold, wasn’t cruel for the sake of cruelty. He did what he had to, but he wasn’t a demon. He surely wasn’t the devil himself. 

But he was about to meet him. 

Only one man was stationed at the back entrance. A foolish mistake, Joel thought, but he wasn’t complaining. The guard hadn’t even seen Joel coming until it was too late, and a strong arm around his neck was leaving him incapacitated. Tommy went in first, trigger-happy as always. They hadn’t expected the room to be vacant, but Joel was still surprised when Tommy ushered him in to greet a group of three. 

An old man, a young man, and you. 

The provisions were stacked behind the pews, just as expected, but Joel couldn’t make himself focus on the task of grabbing whatever looked useful. The younger man pulled a pistol from a holster on his side, holding it out shakily. He couldn’t decide whether to point it at Joel or at Tommy. On any other day, neither one of them would have hesitated to shoot the man and go about their day. The problem was, the image in front of Joel had him utterly stunned. 

“Jesus,” Tommy whispered. Anger brewed in Joel’s gut. 

The older man stood in the center of the pulpit—a Bible in one hand and a scourge in the other. He seemed unphased by the intrusion, continuing to spout scripture in a patronizing, almost bored tone. You were facing away from the elder, kneeling in front of him with nothing on but your undergarments. You held your arms to your chest, covering your front as he brought down the whip repeatedly on your back. It looked like all three of you had been there awhile. 

For a moment, Joel locked eyes with you. A young woman, barely old enough to call a woman, with welts and lashes covering your frame. You looked healthier than most of the people he’d come across, judging by the soft layer of fat and water covering a well-toned physique and a surprisingly large frame. He expected—well, at this point Joel didn’t know what he should be expecting, but still—some sort of fear or pain to be painted on your face. He expected you to be bound in place, forced to take the beating with rope tying you to the altar. None of this was what he saw. 

Your expression was entirely distant. It was numb, or even calm. Your hands were folded obediently across your chest and you made little movement as the whip made contact with your skin over and over again. Joel couldn’t understand what he was seeing—why were you letting this happen? Judging by your frame, you seemed more than capable of overpowering the elder. Hell, you could probably knock Joel on his ass if you caught him off guard. 

You broke your gaze away from him, the same distant eyes staring down at the floor instead of at Joel. The younger man’s arrogant voice made Joel look up. 

“You can’t be here,” he spat at the two brothers. His gun was decidedly trained on Tommy now, as his sawed off shotgun pointed right back. Tommy’s tone was generous, but non-negotiable. 

“We ain’t here for you,” he explained. “We’re gonna take our fill of food and supplies, and we’re gonna leave. No need for a fuss.”

But the young man wasn’t satisfied. Neither was Joel. 

“What’re you doing?” He heard himself ask. The scripture the old man was spouting was way too pretentious for him. He could make out a couple of words—general church talk like “sin” and “penance” and “salvation”—but everything else was lost on him. Joel didn’t know why he was so angry.  

“You need to leave,” the young man repeated. 

Joel drew his gun. “Answer me.” 

“Joel, let’s just—” Tommy tried. 

“You better start fucking talking!” By this time, the elder had looked up from his book, an unphased expression on his face. Joel almost had the inkling that he should be pointing the gun at the old man instead, but it stayed trained on the spot between the eyes of the younger. 

Tommy started backing toward the stockpile, not wanting an unnecessary commotion. The young man stuttered when Joel’s gun leveled with his face. 

“My—my wife. She’s receiving discipline—mortification of the flesh. The penance… we’re hoping that God will bless us with a child.”

The anger in Joel’s gut began to rise to his throat. “You’re telling me you’re beating this girl ‘cause you can’t knock her up? How the hell is that her fault?”

Tommy was stuffing meds in his pack. “We don’t got time for this, Joel. It isn’t our business.”

“Behold,” the old man interjected. He seemed at most inconvenienced by the armed men yelling at him. “Children are a gift of the Lord, The fruit of the womb is a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior, So are the children of one’s youth.”

“I don’t much like poetry,” Joel muttered. 

The old man shook his head. “It’s Psalms. No other woman in this village is barren. A woman without her womb is a candle without a wick. This girl shames us all. She shames her husband. There must be retribution.”

The anger was in Joel’s throat, bubbling into his mouth. He almost swore he could feel steam coming out of his ears. Why was he so angry? He didn’t know this girl. This wasn’t his business. He just needed food. 

“Those provisions are for the children,” the young man griped. “I can’t let you take them.”

“There’ll be plenty left,” Tommy argued.

Joel didn’t care about the food. “How is this her fault?” 

The young man’s tone grew shorter. “It’s none of your concern.”

Joel pulled back the hammer on his gun. “Tell me.”

“The Lord demands retribution from all sinners.” He tried. 

“That doesn’t answer my fucking question. What has she done wrong?”

The young man snapped. “I have no use for a woman who can’t make me a father. She better hope the reverend can beat some purpose back into her.”

And Joel snapped, too. 

The young man’s body fell limp on the ground—a round, clean hole between his eyes leaking blood onto the altar. A shrill, muted cry of horror escaped your mouth, but you didn’t move. Joel’s hand rose steadily until the gun was pointed at the older man. The reverend snapped shut his book and set aside the scourge. He was plenty self-assured for a man staring down a gun. 

“The discipline is finished for today.” He spoke simply. His eyes danced along the lifeless body of your husband, not an ounce of fear or hurt inside of the gaze. The reverend threw a robe in your general direction and, when he turned away, you scrambled to wrap it around your half-naked body. 

“How big is this village?” Joel inquired. He knew the sound of the gunshot would be drawing more men. Tommy was his only reinforcement for now, but he wasn’t too concerned about their odds. 

“Big enough to need a leader, son.” The elder stepped forward. Tommy started throwing things in Joel’s pack. “And certainly big enough to avenge one.”

“This ain’t leadership,” Joel spouted. He figured he should just shoot the man and get on with his journey before there was a full shoot-out on his hands, but Joel pressed on. Something about the situation, he couldn’t fathom. He wanted to know. “My mother took me to church every Sunday for eighteen years. Never once did I see my preacher beat a girl senseless, much less for something she can’t even help.”

A crooked grin grew on the reverend’s face. 

“And where is your preacher now?”

Joel’s grip tightened on the gun. He should just pull the trigger. 

“I am building life out of ashes. Keeping folks in line with God through the end of days. This ain’t Sunday School, and it ain’t sunshine and roses. This village survives through order and obedience. You’ve already given me a young widow to deal with. Take your pick of the food and leave.”

The reverend’s hand came to the back of your head, petting your hair. You closed your eyes and held yourself still. 

He muttered, not quiet enough for Joel to miss it. “Not that anyone would want this one.”

“Joel, we gotta go.” Tommy zipped his pack and motioned for the door. They both knew more men were waiting outside for them. 

“How much ammo you got left?” 

Tommy shook his head. Joel fumbled for the knife in his coat. The reverend sighed dramatically. 

“I would rather there not be a bloodbath in my chapel. It’ll do us no good to lose any more men.” 

“Yeah? Well we’re not leavin’ without the food.” Tommy pointed his gun at the door. “Why don’t you go tell your men to look the other way?”

“I’m sure we can come to an agreement.” Joel didn’t want an agreement. He didn’t want to look the other way. He didn’t know what he wanted, but it wasn’t to walk away with two packs full of food and forget that this happened. 

The reverend’s face shifted, like an idea had befell him. 

“You’re raiders, aren’t you?” He grabbed a fistful of your hair, throwing you forward. “Here, then. Take the spoils of war. I’ll tell them to stand down.”

The…the spoils of war? Joel would have tasted bile in his throat if fire hadn’t gotten there first. 

You immediately scrambled to Joel’s side. Obedient. Joel scoffed. “How very godly of you.”

The reverend only sighed. “Read the scripture. Deuteronomy 21. You’re within your right to take her. Just try not to make a widow of any more of my men’s wives.”

You stood idly with your arms by your sides. Joel thought you looked like someone on autopilot—going through the motions, following directions, but otherwise barely there. When your eyes locked with his again, there was a tinge of something beyond the haze. Something that made Joel all the more angry. Something he didn’t know how to describe. 

But he knew that he couldn’t leave you here. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself. For all this talk of God, the man before him was surely the devil. And Joel couldn’t leave a young woman alone with the devil. 

Joel should have just shot the man when he had the chance. Now he was outgunned. Outnumbered. All he could do was grit his teeth and nod his head—a succinct, curt nod—and the reverend was leading the three of you out through the crowd of armed men that were waiting outside. 

The reverend called to the men, as if making a formal proclamation. “These men are raiders who’ve killed one of our own. They are, within their right, taking a small amount of provisions in agreement to lay down arms.”

He gestured to Joel. “As he has made her a widow, this man now claims our daughter of God as his wife. She will be leaving with them.”

As his wife? Joel didn’t know if that made the implications better or worse in all of this. Either way, it left a sour taste in his mouth. Something like bile, actually.

It set Joel’s teeth on edge that the men seemed unbothered with this proclamation. They turned their guns toward the ground as Joel and Tommy passed through, with you sandwiched in the middle of them. The same distant expression was still on your face, though silent tears had started streaming down. You walked away from the church and around the corner, until the men were no longer in view. With only a robe covering you, you shivered in the cold. 

He had no idea what to say to you. What to do. How to even start. Tommy led the three of you to where Joel had left the horses, and it was eerily quiet. It only occurred to Joel after two blocks of walking that you hadn’t hesitated to follow him out of the church. 

“I want to make sure those wounds on your back don’t get infected. After that, you can go.”

You glared at him, puzzled. 

He added. “I’ll give you a coat.”

For the first time, you opened your mouth to speak. 

“Go?”

Tommy moved to untie the horses. He didn’t seem to be happy with the new addition. “We can get you to the Charlotte QZ. We don’t have room for hitchhikers.”

“Tommy.” Joel grimaced at the label. Hitchhiker. 

You blinked at him. “You want me to go?”

Joel pulled himself onto his horse, offering his hand while Tommy boosted you up from behind. You hissed when his palm made accidental contact with a laceration on your side.  

“I figured you’d want to get somewhere safe. They got electricity in the QZs. They have rations.”

You hesitantly wrapped your arms around Joel’s stomach, steadying yourself on the horse. He flinched under the touch initially. His body heat was warm against your skin, but you didn’t dare lean any closer. 

Joel flinched again when your voice rang softly in his ears. “I thought that you wanted…”

You couldn’t exactly form the words to finish your sentence. 

“We gotta get going.” Tommy mounted his own horse, wasting no time in directing her forward. “Iz and Mateo are gonna assume we’re dead if we don’t get back to the randevou spot by dark.” 

“Maybe they found somewhere to hole up that still has running water,” Joel pondered aloud. 

“Sure fuckin’ hope so,” Tommy quipped. 

Joel was more comfortable with your voice this time. “You’re not alone?”

“There’s five of us.” Joel shook his head. “But a lot of good safety in numbers does when we split up all the fucking time.”

Tommy let out a dry laugh. 

You cleared your throat. “There isn’t a quarantine zone in Charlotte anymore.”

Joel turned his head, as if to look back at you. “How do you know?”

“I lived there,” you replied solemnly. 

Tommy pondered out loud. “You reckon there’s one up in Raleigh?”

“That’s a long fucking detour. We’re better off just going straight to Boston.” Joel jutted his leg against his horse, moving ahead of Tommy. 

He rolled his eyes. “We got two packs of food, Joel. Split that five ways, it’ll last a couple weeks. If we’re lucky.”

“You don’t know that the lovebirds didn’t find more supplies.” The lovebirds, of course, being the young married couple Joel and Tommy were traveling with, Isabelle and Mateo. 

Tommy stopped in his path. His voice rose in volume. “Joel, what are you doing?”

You both turned to look back at him. Tommy’s expression was deadpan, exasperated.

“What’re you talkin’ about?”

“You know damn well what I’m talking about. We don’t need another mouth to feed.” You flinched at his words—at the short tone of his voice. You turned to stare at Joel’s back, holding yourself steady. 

“Don’t take that personally,” Joel whispered to you. “It’s been a hard couple of months.”

He projected his voice—and attention—to Tommy. 

“I’m not leaving her here. We’ll get more food.” Joel’s horse picked up more speed, and Tommy’s followed suit. “I’ve been feeding you for thirty-four years, Tommy. Don’t hear me complaining.”

Tommy scoffed, muttering, “You do plenty fuckin’ complaining.”

That was where the conversation ended. You rode in silence all the way to the randevou. 

~~•~~

Isabelle’s clothes were too small to fit you. Instead, Joel simply offered you one of his shirts while Mateo’s pants seemed to be the closest to your general size. The both of them eyed you suspiciously, but they eyed Joel more suspiciously when they saw a young, half-naked woman on the back of his horse. The lovebirds didn’t dare comment on your presence, though. Joel had kept them all alive for this long—he could bring along whomever he pleased. 

The last member of the group, a combat veteran named Colin, arrived shortly after the lovebirds did. While the couple had managed to grab another duffel full of provisions, the ex-marine had managed the biggest strike of luck—hot water. A solar-powered farmhouse in the next town over seemed virtually untouched from outbreak day. Mateo called first dibs on the lone shower inside of the house. Everyone would get their turn eventually, though. 

“Radiators are busted,” Tommy observed. He tinkered with all the appliances in the house upon entry, while Isabelle logged all of the food they had found and planned a meal for the night. 

“You think we can get away with lighting a fire?” Colin checked the locks on all of the doors. 

“I doubt anyone will see it,” Joel decided. “But if they do, let ‘em come. I’m tired of sleeping in the fuckin’ cold.”

Mateo emerged from the bathroom with still-wet hair. He was wearing sweats, but no shirt, and he looked to be in absolute bliss. 

“That’s the best fucking shower I’ve had in three years.” He grinned. Droplets fell from the black curls on his head and he ran his fingers through the mop of hair. 

Iz cooed from her spot in the kitchen. “It’s the little things, isn’t it?”

“What’re we cooking, chef?” Tommy called back to her. 

“There was a lot of canned soup in those apartments,” she explained. “And we actually got fresh meat this time. So, venison in gravy. Over rice.”

“We got rice!” Mateo smiled wider. 

Isabelle laughed. “Lap of luxury, baby. It’s almost ready.”

Joel went about exploring the basement of the house while Tommy finished his tinkering with the water heater. As Colin stoked the meager fire in the fireplace, Mateo took the opportunity to shave in front of an actual bathroom vanity. No one noticed how you silently moved behind Iz in the kitchen, gathering dishes and forks and towels and setting the dining table like a picturesque scene from the Waltons.

“Food’s done!” She called loud enough for everyone in the house to hear. Joel froze in place as he reached the top of the steps. Isabelle only looked amused as she sat the pots of food on the table. 

That little feeling in his chest was heating up again and, even though it wasn’t anger, Joel felt himself tense his jaw and clench his fists. Mateo and Colin took seats at the table without comment. When Tommy came into the room, he laughed. 

“Since when do we eat like this?” He eyed Isabelle, who shook her head at him. 

For some reason, Joel didn’t find it funny. “We don’t.” 

He grabbed his plate, plopped a helping of food on top of it, and left the room. 

The rest of you ate in silence, save for Mateo’s inappropriate noises of content every few bites. You focused on your food, methodically eating bite after bite and not daring to look up at any of the others. Save for the occasional glance from Tommy, none of them took the chance to look at you, either. But dinner was good, and warm and filling. So, you supposed all was well. 

Joel scarfed down his food just as fast as always. He didn’t bother savoring the fresh meat, too busy focusing on the ramming of his heart against his chest. 

…what the fuck was going on with him?

He hadn’t sat down at a table to eat dinner in years. In three and a half years, actually. Not since his 36th birthday. Not since he’d forgotten to buy the pancake mix. 

But it wasn’t just that. Joel had spent enough time with his grief to know that feeling by now. There was something else. Something about that damn look in your eyes that he couldn’t identify. Something about the way the reverend had sneered and offered him the spoils of war. Something about how you didn’t protest when he all but threw you into Joel’s arms. It didn’t sit right. 

He couldn’t pretend to be a man of God by any metric. The last time Joel had set foot in a church was when Sarah had been baptized as a baby, and that was mostly to put her grandparents’ minds at ease. Joel wasn’t exactly born again, but he had spent enough time in the pews as a child to know what church was supposed to be. And this simply wasn’t it. Joel had come across a lot of strange things in the past three years. Clickers, raiders, slavers. Cannibals, even. But he hadn’t come across something like this. 

And you? Whoever you were, whatever this church had done to you? It dumbfounded him. He couldn’t let it go—and he downrighted hated that he couldn’t let it go. 

His plate was empty, but the burning in his chest didn’t stop. 

When Joel finally made his way back up to the ground floor, the table was clean and the group had disbanded around the place. Isabelle and Mateo shared the couch while Tommy snored softly in the recliner beside it. Colin laid claim to the bedroom on the first floor, shutting in early and vowing to shower in the morning. You weren’t there, which made Joel’s heart sink. 

“Where is she?” He muttered. Mateo saw the look on his face and shook his head in reassurance. 

“Taking a bath. We figured she should go first, and Tommy said something about her back?”

Joel ran his hand over his face. “Yeah. Gotta make sure she doesn’t need patchin’ up. I don’t think she was bleeding much.”

Isabelle grimaced. Her words fell on dead silence. 

“What happened?”

And Joel felt like his dinner might come back up. Tommy had stopped snoring, but his eyes were still closed. Joel figured he was pretending to be asleep, which was probably for the best. He leaned against the wall where the fireplace was, letting the heat soak into his side. 

“I don’t know how to explain it.” His eyes flashed to the floor and back up. “But I couldn’t leave her there. She probably doesn’t want to talk about it, either.” 

“So… she’s with us now?” Mateo questioned. Joel nodded. 

Isabelle leaned into her husband’s chest, a tired smile creeping at her lips. 

“I guess we should learn her name, then.”

~~•~~

Joel couldn’t bring himself to appreciate the hot shower. There was more tension in his muscles than a few minutes of steam could work out, more grime and filth under his skin than on top of it. Still, the warm water felt nice on his face. The smell of shampoo was a nice contrast to the bar soap he’d been using to bathe in streams and lakes over the past months. He took his sweet time underneath the stream of hot water. 

Tommy had laid claim to the couch to sleep for the night. Mateo was upstairs in one of the bedrooms, waiting for Isabelle to join him after she took her own bath. And again, Joel didn’t know where you were when he emerged from the bathroom, but there were only a handful of places to hole up in a house so small. 

His knees creaked as he made his way up the narrow set of stairs to the second floor of the home—more accurately an insulated attic than an actual floor of its own. Still, there were two bedrooms atop the main level, and a snoring Mateo alerted Joel to which one was his own. 

He opened the door slowly. The room was barely big enough for a chest of drawers and a bed, the latter of which was neatly made with fresh seats. 

And which you were sitting on the edge of, arms crossed in your lap and wearing nothing but your briefs and the shirt that Joel had lent you. Again, your eyes were hazy as they met with Joel’s. But your expression wasn’t so vacant this time. It was anxious. And Joel felt himself blush as he stepped into the room. 

“Having trouble sleeping?” He asked quietly. You gave a confused look. “I didn’t realize you were up here. I’ll go to the basement.”

You shook your head. “I was waiting for you.”

“You…what?” Joel absently closed the door behind him. His heart panged in his chest, then he remembered. “Oh. Your back.”

He moved closer to the bed and you frowned at him. “Isabelle bandaged it for me. She said it will heal just fine.” 

“Good—that’s good,” he stuttered. Joel didn’t know what to do from there. 

There was an awkwardly long silence, and then Joel shuddered when you spoke again. 

“Where do you want me?”

He was confused. Heat seared in his throat. “What do you mean? I told you I would take the couch.”

“But that isn’t… right…” you trailed, struggling to explain. You didn’t understand why he didn’t understand. “I wouldn’t make you do that.”

“Uhm…okay?” Joel stared at you. 

You repeated, “but where do you want me?”

He scoffed, dumbfounded. “I guess the couch.”

You closed your eyes, hands still folded in your lap. Joel got the feeling that he had done something wrong. 

He heard himself stutter out, “Is there something I’m missing?”

“You killed my husband.” The blank expression was back. “I watched you shoot him.”

Joel’s face was on fire. His chest was on fire. 

“I did.” He shifted his weight. “Are you gonna try to kill me, now?”

The look on your face was utterly offended. 

“Why would I do that?”

Joel almost could have laughed.“Wh—I…I don’t know what you want from me.”

And then you nodded, and Joel’s whole body was on fire. 

“I know what you want from me.”

Oh, God. He was burning alive. Joel could actually feel the flames on his skin. Your expression was deadpan. 

You punctuated each word. 

“Whatever you need, I’ll give it to you. So where do you want me?”

~~•~~ Next Part.

so uhhh. Yeah, second installment coming out pretty immediately. I know this is a weird religious cult fic with an oddly specific reader backstory but like… sue me?

I’m going to tag @romanarose just because I was an absolute menace to her about this fic. Also my guys @rmoonstoner @theaussiedragon

[runawaymun]

question that you do not have to answer: are you lgbt? and are there lgbt ppl in your church? i was just wondering how common it is for lgbt ppl to be practicing christians and vice versa

I am bi and genderqueer, yes. Several of my friends are practicing Christian and also queer to some degree (we have like one token straight friend haha) — though we kind of all collected each other through the power of gaydar. The deacon(ess) at our church has been quite open about being queer as well, and the rest of the leadership seems more or less supportive.

It’s hard to say how common or uncommon it is. In my experience, I’d lean on the side of uncommon purely because the church has deeply sinned against its queer members historically, and that’s not a wound which quickly heals — but I grew up baptist. It all very much depends on your location and the denomination of church. I live in a liberal area and the church I go to is ECLA Lutheran, who as a whole are queer affirming and allow queer people to hold leadership. The main pastor at our church isn’t comfortable officiating queer weddings — but has no problem allowing other members of staff to do it. I respect that bc I very much prefer for people to err on the side of following their own conscience. He isn’t hateful or bigoted, but he is definitely more traditional.

As far as how common it is to have practicing queer people in church, I think it’s far more common than people think and much more common than people at church think. We are all just pretty quiet about it unless the church is an affirming one. The climate of each church can vary. We tend to find each other and find allies. People stay at churches for a number of reasons that have nothing to do with how affirming the leadership at that church is.

Quaker and ECLA churches tend to be affirming. The ones I hate the most are the psuedo-nondenominational liberal churches of the likes I attended for years, because they’re bigoted but they aren’t honest about it. It’s very much “love the sinner, hate the sin”, and the general idea is “it’s okay to experience same sex attraction but don’t act on it, and don’t talk about it”. At least the outright conservative churches are upfront.

But I digress. There are many, many queer practicing Christians across the whole spectrum of Christian denominations. I’ve met several at every church I’ve ever attended. The main reason I took so long to find an affirming church is that my top priority when looking is that the church must believe in and uphold the Bible (or else, like, why are we here lol). I know that the Bible itself actually has nothing to say about queer people in consensual relationships, so there is no need to throw out scripture in an attempt to be affirming. Churches that err on one extreme of the spectrum or the other are, in my opinion, intellectually lazy or dishonest.

But the trend is for the better imo. The kids in church these days seem to be much better off, and my hope for them is that they will never be hurt and question God’s love for them like I did for so long.

Oof, digressing more, sorry! I am very passionate about this whole topic. Anyway I hope that answers your question, thank you!

[transmutationisms]

re: everything horny nothing beautiful—do you think people are onto something when they say that americans became oddly and intensely puritan after 9/11. never understood that particular argument, nor the bit about americans as uniquely puritan/sexually repressed compared to the rest of the (western) world

ya i can kind of understand people thinking that the wave of post-9/11 nationalism led to like a general sexual conservatism, like it's sort of just an assumption that those things must have automatically gone hand-in-hand, but i don't think actually that america did become significantly more sexually repressed or puritanical in the aughts lol. it's also another one of those cases where many people seem to want to use the idea of puritanism to mean, like, "intensification of reactionary ideas" and i think puritanism is better understood as just one reactionary strain among many. like, all roads do not necessarily lead to rome.

anyway as to the general perception of americans as uniquely sexually repressed and puritanical i think there are a couple things going on. one is a general, max weber-lite tendency to over-interpret the significance of protestantism as a guiding economic force with an accompanying cultural and sexual ethos. so the fact that america has always been plurality protestant gets taken as prima facie evidence of sexual repression, like the way countries like england or germany are also assumed more repressed and buttoned-up than eg france or italy. i've said before that weber arguments are bad (/tagged/weber) and i'll say it again.

there's also, i genuinely think, a continued appeal to the colonialist, climatic-racial argument that hotter environments make people more emotional, impulsive, expressive, and yes sexually uninhibited. again even just within europe you can think here about how northern europeans perceive themselves vs how they talk about spain, italy/the mediterranean, etc. i think the us gets broadly lumped in with england here as a former british colony, and then you can see how internally there's absolutely a distinction between how people talk about the us north vs the south, and how the south is contrasted as wilder and, despite the bible belt, sexually more dangerous/improper; obviously this also relates to internal racist and classist dynamics, including the legacy of slavery and its corresponding discourses of blackness/africanness. there's also an east-to-west distinction internally, which i'd argue shows the continued legacy of settler justifications and ideas of western expansion as both manifest destiny and exploration of a wild and untamed terra nullius. the northeast, which is where the puritan influence was historically strongest, is often positioned in these discourses as the 'true' america in the sense of being the cultural centre or source (on an internal centre-periphery model à la basalla) so the puritan influence gets overstated and puritanical/repressed sexual mores are then seen as linked to economic dominance as well as 'proper' behaviour and culture.

and then finally sometimes people are just like, going into these arguments assuming that religious proscriptions on sex can be taken at face value, which is honestly very funny. like for example you will often hear people assert that the us is specifically more 'prudish' about child sexuality than eg italy or france, and they may point to things like us evangelical 'purity rings' or those ceremonies where like, girls pledge their virginities to their fathers. and it is true these things happen. but people making this type of argument tend to forget that also, child marriage is legal in the us. in general a religious command is an interesting phenomenon for a sociological analysis, but not necessarily one that should be taken as uncomplicatedly true, esp where like sexual taboos are concerned lol. it's true that in general, americans are more concerned to preserve certain kinds of modesty than some europeans (like, public changing rooms or spas are a very different affair in the us than in eg iceland or scandinavia, specifically regarding level of comfort with nudity) but it's not really a very serious argument to assume this correlates to a larger phenomenon of general repression or puritanism.

i mean i understand all national identities are constructed and this is just a piece of how that's done, both by americans and by other countries looking at america. but yeah i would say it's not a very insightful analysis of religion or sexuality lol