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drconstellation · 4 months

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i'm sorry i'm a bit slow when it comes to reading comprehension...i thought crowley saves the goats because he doesn't want to kill them, not because they're associated with demons? or did i get that wrong? 🙈

Angelic Sheep and Demonic (Scape)Goats

[Just for reference, the question above was prompted by another meta: Goats, Crows and The Flood]

Thank you for the question. This gives me a chance to write up a sheep and goat meta at length - but I hope you're not going to regret asking it, because its not a simple answer. While I am always saying "it never is in the GOmens AU" I have to admit this one took off with a life of its own (the metas do that sometimes) and has ended up much longer than I thought it would and went to places I didn't expect it to go, but sometimes that is the joy of writing these.

Crowley doesn't want to kill them because he thinks they are innocent and blameless, just like the children of Job - and by extension, we are meant to see he thinks he was unfairly blamed and condemned to be a demon as well. That's it at its most simple level, but by understanding why there is an association between demons and goats will give you a much deeper insight into Crowley's story and why he would act this way. S2 of GOmens is like an onion, you need to peel that thin dry skin off and then slice through several more juicy layers to get the full depth of flavor into the complex meal that has been created for us. Its worth the tears that the chopping of the onion releases in the end. Are you brave enough to find out?

Take the conversation above, between Sitis and Bildad/Crawley. Sitis is a parallel-character to Aziraphale here, wearing the angel's signature teal green, and she questions the demon about the children being threatened with destruction. Then let us put these two parallel scenes side-by side: Sitis vs Bildad and Aziraphale vs Heaven

AZIRAPHALE: Oh. So just his worldly goods. MURIEL: Exactly. Oh, nothing important, no. Just his farm, his camels, his goat, his oxen, his children, his geese… AZIRAPHALE: His WHAT?! MURIEL: His geese. You know, big cross ducks.[flaps arms] AZIRAPHALE: His children?

So we have Sitis looking in horror at a demon at the potential death of her children, and then we have Aziraphale looking in horror at Heaven acting demon-like, not caring if children are destroyed in pursuit of victory over Satan. "Trust in God's plan, Aziraphale. Always," admonishes the shoulder-demon Gabriel (he is so often a shoulder demon - I have words to say about this! - in another meta) In other words, be a good sheep, Aziraphale, and have faith in the Almighty. Don't worry about the goats, or kids. They aren't important.

If you listen carefully during the Job minisode, A Companion to Owls, you'll notice Gabriel prefers to emphasize the number of sheep that will be returned to Job in the end. The Christian church is very big on the sheep imagery! Sheep are considered to be modest, humble, obedient (because they follow one another - you need to be a good follower!) and patient. They follow their shepherd's voice and goes where he directs. (Uh huh...) Followers are described as being part of a flock.

Goats, on the other hand (ah, yes, we'll talk about that in a moment) are considered to be a bit on the nose. Literally. A rutting billy goat is described as having a 'fetid' smell, they can be promiscuous, capricious, devious (wily?) and contrary. Their strong-mindedness, singleness of purpose and leadership qualities (!*) make them the opposite of sheep. While going your own independent way is frowned upon by Heaven, this leading quality of the goat is sometimes used to lead the sheep.

"There are three things that are stately in their stride, four that move with stately bearing: a lion, mighty among beasts, who retreats before nothing; a strutting rooster, a he-goat, and a king with his army around him." Proverbs 30: 29-31

Did you get a good whiff of that sinister archangel, Shax?

(oh boy, some of the stuff I found researching this for more detail...such as "going your own way creates disunity...this leads others astray..." wtf! Looking at this in context with the show makes it kind of, well, some things make more sense to me now? I guess that's a big reflection on the kind of culture I personally grew up in, because I know there are cultures where unity and togetherness is looked upon as happiness and harmony.)

In the tv show, we know the scene blocking - where the characters stand - has great importance. Standing on the right-hand shoulder of another character makes them a shoulder-angel (the dexter side), standing on the left a shoulder-demon (the sinister side.) By watching who stands where usually tells us what moral stance they are taking in that scene.

If we take the example from the Job minisode below, we can see quite an interesting dynamic from the scene blocking. On the left, we have Sitis and Job, who is crouching down. They are an Aziraphale-Crowley parallel-pair, and they are even colour-coded with their colours! Sitis, in Aziraphale's teal on the angelic right of yellow tunic-wearing Job, who's modelling Crowley's suffering for sin but without understanding why. Job has crouched down to highlight Crowley's entrance. On the right the glowing angels are arrayed - Michael on the angelic right shoulder, Gabriel in the middle (more often than not he stands on the demonic left) but this time Aziraphale is taking the far left demonic position, and we know why - he's about to lie like a demon! But even on a grander scale, Sitis, Job and Crowley all stand on the angelic RHS of the visiting angels, making the archangels and Aziraphale all collectively LHS demons in this scene. And Gabriel thought they'd won the bet...*snort*

You should all take a moment to appreciate this piece of Art. Go on. Do it.

Sheep and goats had this right- and left-handedness meted out to them long ago in the bible. The sheep belong to the morally righteous right-hand side, of course, the side of angels, and the goats to the demonic left.

But when the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the holy angels with him, then he will sit on the throne of his glory. Before him all the nations will be gathered, and he will separate them one from another, as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. He will set the sheep on his right hand, but the goats on the left. Matthew 25:31-33

This passage and the following lines from Matthew describes how Jesus will judge the righteous from the sinners, and those who have been deemed good will be saved, but those who are deemed unworthy will be treated like goats: "Then he will say also to those on the left hand, 'Depart from me, you cursed, into the eternal fire which is prepared for the the devil and his angels" Matthew 25:41

So we've established the link between goats being demons, and the left-hand side, so they have an affinity with Crowley. We can do a bit of humorous visual and word play between kids and children.

Children.

ah.

oh. OH. Hang on a minute...

Lets just take a step back to the beginning of the minisode, where Crawley delivers his short monologue to the assembled goats.

CRAWLEY: You should know why you're about to die. God has abandoned you. The God who claims to love you, who demands your praise, has given you up to be destroyed.

They're rather small goats, aren't they. The kind of size that makes you wonder if they are goat children or grown goats... you know, it doesn't matter - they are little, cute and innocent. You are meant to associate them with kids, now, and in the past. (Like, in the way, way back past. Like not just the Flood, but the Before the Beginning past.) What matters is Crawley's speech to them, because it sounds very much like him repeating his own experience about his Fall from Heaven. We already know from S1 there is a conflict around Crowley's Fall involving wanting to ask God questions. We get to explore this further several times in S2.

Then later, after emerging from Job's cellar, they witness God talking to Job.

AZIRAPHALE: I don't suppose he's getting any answers. CRAWLEY: No. But just to be able to ask the question.

We don't hear all the lines God speaks to Job, but we hear enough to them to understand that they come from the Book of Job 38 and 39. The context behind these two verses is...interesting. I was going to delve into them a little more but I think that will get us off track on this meta, so perhaps I should come back and revisit it separately, but we can note that several ops have pointed out that the lines we do hear God speak clearly to Job can be connected to Crowley. There are no coincidental accidents in S2.

But just look at Job in that last image - the light of God shining brightly down through a hole in the clouds, darkness all around...

Hmm. Remind you of anything. Like maybe... another Voice from above?

Who we've seen has shown a particular dislike for a certain demon, even though most certainly remembers what his name is.

METATRON: Ah, well, always did want to go his own way. Always asking damn fool questions, too.

Well, doesn't that sound just like a demon goat.

That withering look the Metatron gave Crowley in S2E6, the comment about asking "damn fool questions," - just about the only conclusion you can come to is that the Metatron had something to do with Crowley's Fall. What and how exactly is still unclear, but there are some clues in Gabriel's story, as Gabriel is acting as both a parallel and foil to Crowley in S2. At this point we should also talk about the scapegoat ritual that was widely practiced around the near Middle East regions for quite some time.

The scapegoat ritual involved two young goats being chosen for sacrifice, but one of them had the sins of the community spoken over them then set free to wander into the desert wilderness to die, while the other was sacrificed as a Burnt offering to God. This was a symbolic way of removing sins from the community.

It is also applied to the Passion of Jesus. When the gathered crowds are offered the choice between letting Jesus or Barabbas go free, they choose Barabbas. I've written at length how I see this applied to S2 in this meta here: The Passion of Jimbriel: Resurrection and while Gabriel and Crowley share the role of Jesus fairly equally throughout the Passion story line, there is one point it can be split and Gabriel becomes the Barabbas and the goat that was released into the wilderness and Crowley becomes Jesus on the cross - but he turns into the sacrificial lamb! Perhaps that needs to be changed to the burnt offering...

I know there are quite a few meta ops that are aware of the scapegoat ritual, and more often than not I see Aziraphale being suggested as the current scapegoat. But the way I see the ritual being used in GO is not so much in the present story but in the past, and Crowley was the unwilling scapegoat for the rebelling angels that fell.

OK, I think I've run out spoons on this meta, but seeing how its managed to be at least twice the size I initially envisioned it to be, and its since generated two more meta ideas in the writing of it on top of the ones I'm already trying to do, that isn't too bad.

I'll wrap it up by saying no matter who the scapegoat is, Aziraphale needs to let his inner lion out so he can be The GOAT in S3. I'm sure the original nanny-goat will applaud that.

*talking about that topic...I should have a meta out soon centered around Crowley and Gabriel that will cover this. I will probably come back and edit a link in to it.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #crowley #goats #sheep #crows #job minisode #a companion to owls #aziraphale #gabriel #michael #muriel #the metatron #shoulder angels #dexter vs sinister #scapegoat

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garadinervi · 6 months

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For her, poetry is a social act, by Mickey Fridman, «San Francisco Examiner», December 7, 1977 [Constellations of Black feminism in UC Berkeley’s archives – Stories of UC Berkeley Library. Carton 6:50, Barbara Christian papers, BANC MSS 2003/199 c, The Bancroft Library, University of California, Berkeley, CA]

(transcription)

For her, poetry is a social act

By Mickey Friedman Examiner Photo by Katy Raddatz

(Image description) June Jordan is seen in front of a chalkboard, looking toward the camera. (Image caption) June Jordan: The New York Times wrote: 'Whatever becomes of poetry in English hereafter, Jordan's poems will likely be a conspicuous part of it'

While many who write poetry do so for private self-expression, poet June Jordan feels that inner satisfaction is only half the story. For her, a poem is a social act. "If you hope to deserve the attention of anyone other than yourself, you're serving a social goal," she says.

At 41, June Jordan has published 10 books. She is black, politically active, a native of Harlem who grew up in Brooklyn's Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood, where she was a member of a gang called the Royal Bops. She is divorced and has a son at Harvard. Her latest book of poetry, "Things That I Do in the Dark" (Random House) is a selection of her work from 1966 to 1976.

Of the book, Hayden Carruth wrote in the New York Times Book Review, "Whatever becomes of poetry in English hereafter, Jordan's poems will likely be a conspicuous part of it."

Jordan does not talk about other people understanding or empathizing with her poems. What her readers can do, she hopes, is "use" her work, implying an active partnership between writer and reader. "If you write a love poem, if it's a good poem, you've depicted your feelings with accuracy. If other people can use it, they come to a better understanding of their own love," she says.

Along with poems on blackness, politics and a gamut of other topics, a section of "Things That I Do in the Dark" is devoted to love poems — some of them passionate and lyrical, others, like "About Long Distances on Saturday," slightly wry:

he calls me from his house and the timing seems bad and I offer to call him back later but he says "no" I'm about to split for the weekend so call me yeah early next week or sometime and the answer is that the question is (isn't it) where are you going baby without me?

Jordan, very much the conscious artist, does not write in the "confessional" mode that "dominated poetry in the '50s," she says. "I feel that confessional poetry was a part of my life in my late teens, at a time when I wasn't really interested in other people," she says. "Most of us stop being teen-agers, and want other people to care about what we're doing. During the '60s, the civil rights movement, the peace movement and the women's movement served to propel us out of the confessional mode into a more political posture. In the context of these three movements, poetry received an enormous boost in interest."

Since language is one of Jordan's basic concerns, she has been empathetic about preserving the nuances of black English and not teaching black children that their speech is wrong. She has written, "… as a black poet and writer, I hate words that cancel my name and my history and the freedom of my future; I hate the words that condemn and refuse the language of my people in America." In her own poems, the cadences of black speech are often evident.

Jordan says she became a poet "as a result of reading Shakespeare and the Bible when I was much too young to understand them. I was influenced by the music of the words." She was also strongly affected by hearing recordings of Dylan Thomas reading his poetry: "It had a tremendous influence on me. It was almost as if he were speaking Spanish in English, it was so musical. My other big influence was Shelley. He's also mellifluous and musical."

One of Jordan's most pressing concerns at the moment is the deterioration of language. "This is one political struggle I hope I'm a serious part of," she says. "If we don't retrieve our language so we can trust it, the possibilities for interaction are gone. There isn't an alternative to words." Mentioning George Orwell's essay, "Politics and the English Language," Jordan says that political figures have been prime offenders: "The guiding principle that has been inculcated in our leaders is that they should only deal with one idea, and reiterate it over and over," she says. "Most things are more complicated than that. This is a public style of dishonesty that comes from the misuse of our language."

In these days when rhyme and meter have largely gone by the board, it is sometimes hard for the layman to judge what constitutes a good poem. Can objective standards be applied? Jordan says emphatically that they can, and sets forth guidelines in a series of questions: "First, find out what the poet was trying to do. What is he trying to have you see, feel, smell? Then, ask yourself if he has done it. Are the images hackneyed? Is there consistency in the kind of language that's used? If not, does it add to the impact of the poem? Are the verb tenses consistent? Do you feel the voice inside the poem is clear?"

Jordan is currently working on her second novel, "OK, Now," which will be published in the winter of 1978. "The idea is an enormous idea, in the Utopian tradition," she says. "It's written with a somewhat proselytizing attitude. It's about a commune, and land reform in Mississippi. I have to take it through good and bad times, enough so people don't feel I've loaded the scales."

How is writing a novel different from writing poetry? "In a poem, you can contain two voices at best. But in a novel, you can encompass a likely variety of contemporary Americans."

After the novel, Jordan wants to write a book of poems "that will involve getting to know this country. I think it's ridiculous to call yourself an American poet and all you know is New York." To help her learn the country, Jordan is considering moving to the Bay Area, where she would teach at UC Berkeley. "In New York, everything is so expensive and so dense," she says. "I want to come out here and see how people live when the environmental stress has been drastically reduced. I'd like to know how it feels to be able to park your car next to your house."

Page 22—S.F. Examiner Wed., Dec. 7, 1977

#graphic design #poetry #newspaper #june jordan #mickey fridman #san francisco examiner #barbara christian papers #the bancroft library #university of california library #1970s

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creature-wizard · 1 year

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"True Christians don't do X!"

Look. There is just no objective way to define what make a "true" Christian. Any definition you give comes from your own personal biases.

Also, there's a bunch of people who would claim that you aren't a true Christian based on their own biases.

What are ya gonna do about it, have yet another "nuh-uh! nuh-uh! no, you!" slapfight? Are you going to have another tiresome debate in which you're both absolutely certain that you're the ones with the Real True Objective Understanding of the Bible? Ahhh yes, that's worked out so well for us all so far, hasn't it?

There's just no point in trying to quibble who qualifies as a "true Christian" or not. None whatsoever. It doesn't solve any problems, much less the problem of certain groups of Christians particularly hateful and destructive.

"Oh but not all Christians are like that-"

Oh buddy, I know this. In fact, I probably know much more about the diversity of practices and beliefs among people who profess to believe in Jesus as the Messiah than you. Which is, in fact, one more reason why I'm against this whole "true Christians practice/believe X-" rhetoric. You have no idea just how many Christians you're dismissing out of hand simply because their Christianity doesn't work exactly like yours.

You have no idea how deeply chauvinistic you're being by assuming that you practice the most objectively correct version of Christianity. Yes, this includes your assumption that being a Christian involves reading the New Testament. Christianity didn't begin with the New Testament; it began with a group of people who decided that this one guy was the messiah. People were Christian for hundreds of years before the New Testament was even a thing, and the New Testament only represents a tiny fraction of what early Christianity was like.

"Okay but X opinion isn't in the New Testament!"

Are you sure? Like, have you read the New Testament lately? Like, do you even know what's in the Gospel of John aside from John 3:16? Do you really? Are you just unaware that the Gospel of Matthew puts collective culpability for Jesus's crucifixion on all Jews for all time? The fact is, there are some garbage takes in the New Testament, because the books and letters New Testament was written by a bunch of people, some of whom had some pretty garbage opinions about some things.

If you genuinely think it's really messed up when Christians are racist and antisemitic, or generally bigoted in other ways, maybe instead of whining "not all Christians!" at the people who call this out, maybe ask yourself what you can actually do about these problems. How can you fight these hatreds that other Christians are perpetuating?

If you won't do that, then you never really cared about racism or antisemitism. You only care about your religion's public image.

#christianity #christians #racism #antisemitism

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icarusignite · 7 months

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Hey! I don't know if this is the proper format (still kind of new here) but I'm sending in this prompt for an Alfred × Reader fic. There's this idea for him that was stuck in my head a couple months ago. So…

It's set either S2 or S3 but it fits better in S3 or the break between 2 and 3. Alfred is really ill which isn't unusual for him, but this time he's taking a lot longer for him to heal and he's deteriorating more seriously than he normally would.

People in court start looking around for new healers and remedies. Alfred is also kind of desperate because he doesn't want to die before England is complete or Edward is ready to take over.

Reader, who is a healer, comes to court with the intention of helping Alfred. She's neither Dane nor Saxon, if you're comfortable with it she could be of Asian or African origin/descent (eg Father Benedict in S5). She's either Muslim or Christian, either way she's well read and a bit of a scholar (if you've seen Vikings: Valhalla S2, there's a female character that might ring a bell). She's also able to reassure him, like Iseult, that she's treating him with nature's bounty and nothing sinister.

Because she's a scholar (also maybe a Christian), Alfred is comfortable that she's not practicing witchcraft so this helps him accept her more easily. It also helps them bond and they become really close friends over the course of the months she spends treating him. They have fun banter and he's able to feel like Alfred, the man around her instead of King Alfred. Then he realizes that he has feelings for her.

At this point it could go any way really. Does Aelswith factor into it much or not? Does reader reciprocate his feelings or not? If she does, would she be comfortable giving into them and being a mistress? Is Aelswith even in the picture or is this a slight AU? Do they have a sad, happy or bittersweet ending? Idk

For extra spice, Reader could also be good friends with Uhtred or Finan which makes Alfred a little jealous but also sad because he thinks that she'd probably prefer the charming, handsome, potentially single, strapping man to whatever measly affection he could offer her.

Ideally, it would be fluff or smut but whatever you're comfortable writing is fine! Sorry if this is too long but I wanted to be as clear as possible 😅. I also understand if this is too much for a oneshot and you forego the idea entirely

Alfred the great x POC! Fem! Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

A/N: Heyy, so sorry this took literally eons to finally write. Thank you for your lovely request and also thank u for your patience <3 Hope you enjoy what I've done with your idea, and dw this will have another part where I'll explore their chemistry more. I watched a bunch of Alfred edits to get in the mood and ngl I'm lowkey in love with him now lmfao.

Disclaimer: there might be some (a lot) historical discrepancies because I didn't line up the dates exactly but I did find out that the Golden Age of Islam overlapped significantly with the dates that the last kingdom spans so the reader is a prominent scholar from Baghdad. Also, Aelswith is dead (I'm sorry T_T) cuz I don't love a cheating trope even when it is sort of historically accurate. So we have single dad Alfred lol.

The only heaven I'll be sent to is when I'm alone with you

Entering King Alfred's throne room, your senses were immediately awakened by the unfamiliar sights, sounds, and scents of Wessex. The room itself was a stark contrast to the opulent palaces and grand courts of Baghdad that you were accustomed to. The room was spacious, yet its decoration was surprisingly humble and simple, adorned with rough-hewn wooden beams and modest tapestries that depicted various scenes of English myths and prominent events. With a flash of triumph, you found that you recognized some of them from your studies of the English culture. A faint scent of burning wood from the hearth permeated the air with an earthy aroma.

You observed the nobles in attendance, or the ealdormen as they were called here, their attire markedly different from the splendid silks and jewels of Baghdad's court. Here, the people wore simpler garments made of sturdy wool and linen, in the dark colours of the earth as opposed to the the vibrant clothing the people of your home favoured.

Your gaze then turned to the throne itself. It was a robust wooden chair, its design austere yet imposing, lacking the grandeur of the magnificent thrones you had imagined English kings liked to occupy. King Alfred's regal figure atop the throne created a dignified presence. His clothing, matched the style of his ealdormen, long simple robes of a dull grey. The seat next to him was empty and you briefly wondered about his family. The chronicles you had read stated that a king's wife usually took her place beside him when he held court, but you did not know much of Alfred's wife.

Your fingers itched for your writing instruments, yearning to document all your observations and the happenings of the court. You seldom went anywhere without them, but now they remained tucked away in your satchel as you waited for the king to acknowledge your presence. You knew he had seen you enter, his eyes briefly meeting yours, even as he conversed with his ealdormen. Eventually, your thoughts began to wander and you couldn't help but reflect on the stark contrast between the scorching heat of Baghdad and the chilly bite of autumn in Wessex. your flowing linen tunic and trousers, so comfortable in the sweltering desert of your homeland, felt inadequate against the cold English air that seeped through the cracks in the stone walls.

You discreetly rubbed your tingling fingertips together, trying to generate some warmth, as the fire blazing at the hearth did little to banish the chill that had settled in your bones. Your longing for the warmth of the caliphate's sun was keenly felt in this unfamiliar and frigid environment.

Impatience welled up within you as you glanced around the chamber, noting the courtiers' stoic expressions and hushed conversations. The king's deliberations seemed to stretch on endlessly, and you found yourself yearning for the moment when you could finally present your credentials and seek the audience you had travelled so far to obtain.

King Alfred's voice finally called out your name, his voice echoing through the chamber.

"Esteemed lady, I welcome you to the court of Wessex."

The ealdormen, accustomed to the formalities of their court, were taken aback when you did not bow or curtsy as was expected. Instead, you offered a polite smile and tipped your head in a gesture of respect.

A murmur of surprise and disapproval rippled through the assembled courtiers. Some whispered that your behaviour was disrespectful, a breach of protocol. They exchanged curious glances, wondering how their king would react to this departure from tradition.

However, King Alfred took no offence. With a gracious nod, he signalled for you to speak.

"Thank you, your grace. It is an honour to be here."

Your accent was soft, lending your words a foreign intonation, and each syllable was carefully enunciated. You had spent months learning the language, and you weren't about to embarrass yourself now by messing up your pronunciation.

"I extend my deepest gratitude to you for undertaking such a long and arduous journey at my request. I hope the discomfort of the voyage did not prove too taxing."

"Your Majesty," you replied, "it was a journey of great honour for me, and I hope to make myself useful here."

King Alfred nodded appreciatively and then turned to a servant standing nearby.

"Please, ensure that the lady is provided with comfortable quarters and all the amenities she may require during your stay in Wessex."

The servant bowed in acknowledgment and stepped forward to escort you to your residence within the royal palace. You thanked the king once more for his hospitality and assistance before following the servant out of the chamber.

As you left the throne room, your observant nature couldn't help but take note of King Alfred's condition. Despite his attempt to appear at ease in his chair, you had perceived the subtle signs of discomfort. His favouring of his left side, indicating pain or injury to his right, and the unusually pallid complexion for an Englishman raised concerns in your scholarly mind. That was your purpose, after all, to try to diagnose and hopefully cure the ailing monarch.

Just when you were gone, the noblemen of King Alfred's court wasted no time in flocking around him, their curiosity piqued by the arrival of the enigmatic woman. They bombarded the king with questions and voiced their concerns about the unfamiliar customs you had displayed.

One nobleman, his voice dripping with skepticism, remarked, "Your Majesty, did you see that? She didn't bow or curtsy as she should have! It's as if she has no respect for you."

Another, eyeing your unusual attire and complexion, chimed in, "And her clothing, Your Grace! It's unlike anything I've ever seen in Wessex. She's clearly not from anywhere near England. What could she possibly want here?"

The murmurs of disapproval and suspicion spread among the courtiers, as they exchanged perplexed glances. To them, your arrival was an anomaly, and your behaviour had raised eyebrows and questions.

King Alfred, his countenance calm and measured, raised a hand to quell the growing unease.

"I understand your concerns, but there is nothing to worry about" he began, addressing their concerns. "The lady you have just met is a prominent figure from Baghdad. She has travelled from a distant land to be here and she is not here to defy our traditions or customs. She is a scholar seeking to further her studies in Wessex. Her journey to our land is a great honour, as it reflects the recognition of the importance of our own intellectual pursuits."

His tone left no room for further skepticism. He also did not mention the other reason you were there, as he did not wish to reveal the truth of his declining health. As the nobles filtered out of the room, somewhat still unsatisfied by his answer, Alfred couldn't help but remain still, his mind going over the recent developments. When he had first written to the Abbasid Caliphate to request that he be allowed to host a medical scholar at his court, he had to admit he was not expecting a woman, and certainly not one so beautiful.

The next day, Alfred summoned you to his private chambers for a consultation regarding his health. As you entered the room, he couldn't help but notice the change in your attire. Gone was the flowing linen tunic and trousers, replaced by a sturdier, more practical woollen English dress. The deep blue gauzy veil, however, was still draped around your head and flowed down your back.

The English clothing seemed to complement you, accentuating your elegance in a way that was both unexpected and captivating. The king, not for the first time, found himself admiring you, though he kept such thoughts to himself, mindful of the formal context of your meeting.

You, ever the professional scholar, maintained a polite and formal distance as you began your examination of the king. You inquired about his symptoms, listening attentively to his description of the pain and discomfort he had been experiencing. Your deep knowledge and keen medical insight were evident as you asked probing questions and conducted a thorough assessment.

After a careful evaluation, you began to discuss your observations and your initial diagnosis with the king. You explained your thoughts on the potential causes of his discomfort and suggested a course of treatment. King Alfred was grateful for your expertise, and couldn't help but be struck by your intellect. He had a thirst for knowledge himself and he appreciated the quality in others when he saw it. In you he recognized a passion for learning and documentation, one he held himself as well. After the medical examination, he extended an invitation to you to remain in his chambers and share a cup of tea. Initially hesitant, you eventually agreed, recognizing the value of the opportunity to engage in conversation with the English monarch.

Seated in the warmth of the chamber, Alfred began to share with you the rich history of England, its struggles, its triumphs, and its cultural tapestry. He spoke of the challenges of the Anglo-Saxon period, the battles against the Danes, and the enduring spirit of the English people. As he narrated the history of his land, Alfred couldn't help but notice how your eyes lit up with a deep fascination, even though you attempted to contain your enthusiasm. Your questions flowed naturally as you probed deeper into the history and culture of Wessex. You asked about the Anglo-Saxon kings, the legends and folklore, and the development of the English language.

You kept diligent notes in your little notebook, your hand swiftly capturing every detail of the conversation. Your keen intellect and insatiable thirst for knowledge were evident, and your genuine interest in Alfred's words warmed his heart. It had been quite a while since anyone had paid such rapt attention to what he was saying, and he found himself rejuvenated by your exchange.

As a lull settled over your conversation, Alfred's curiosity got the better of him. With a twinkle in his eye, he leaned forward and said, "My lady, I must admit, I'm quite curious about the contents of that notebook of yours. What sort of information have you been documenting to take back to your homeland?"

You smiled, your demeanour more relaxed than when you had first come in, "Your Majesty, you need not worry. I promise you, I haven't written that the English are fire-breathing trolls."

Alfred felt a grin tug at his lips, but he suppressed the urge, keeping his hands folded placidly over his stomach.

"Well, you know, if we English could breathe fire, we might have an easier time dealing with our enemies!"

"There is a trick that performers back home use, to give the illusion of breathing fire. The science behind it is quite fascinating. Perhaps I shall explain it to you sometime."

"Ah yes my lady, you have filled your book with our tales, but have yet to share yours. Do you have any secrets from the East that you'd like to share with us humble English folk?"

You couldn't help but smirk at his words, "I'm afraid some secrets are best left in the lands where they belong, your grace. We wouldn't want you to start brewing Persian tea incorrectly, now would we?"

"I doubt it can compete with our tried and trusted English tea."

"You only think that way because you haven't tried Persian tea yet. Trust me, once you have, there's no going back."

"I suppose you make a fair point! Although, I must admit, the thought of trying to decipher the intricacies of Arabic calligraphy is rather tempting."

You paused, your light-hearted nature urging you to make another joke but you strictly reminded yourself that you were in the presence of a king. It would do you no good to offend him with an ill-timed statement. You were already apprehensive about your earlier comment about the Persian tea, although you were grateful that he chose not to see it as a slight. As if sensing your hesitation, Alfred sat up in bed and leaned forward.

"You are free to speak my lady, do not hold yourself back on my account," he reassured with a wave of his hand.

Still, you settled for a polite smile, "I was just going to remark on the difficulty of calligraphy but I am certain that if anyone would be able to master it, it'd be you, Your Majesty."

A small furrow appeared between Alfred's brows as if that wasn't the answer he expected from you. He could see you pulling away, going back to your polite, almost cold professionalism. Eventually, he nodded thoughtfully at you.

"I would be ever so grateful if you could perhaps show me the technique someday, my lady."

You breathed a sigh of relief and nodded with a small smile.

"Now, about that notebook, if you would allow me to take a look?"

"Ah yes, of course," you handed over the small leatherbound journal to him quickly without further complaints. "But I must warn you, my handwriting isn't at its most legible."

Alfred accepted the notebook with a nod of appreciation. As he leafed through its pages, his eyes quickly fell upon your meticulously written notes. Your thoughts were inscribed in your native language and although he did not understand the words, your elegant looping script impressed him.

He raised an eyebrow and turned toward you expectantly, pointing toward a specific passage, "And what does this say right here?"

"It is a description of the English weather, your grace."

Alfred leaned closer, his finger tracing the inked lines on the page.

"Ah yes, English weather. It was raining when you first arrived, wasn't it? What do you think of our English rain then, my lady? I've heard it has a certain charm."

"Well, I believe your rain can be quite persuasive. It insists that one should stay indoors and read a good book."

Alfred's lips twitched again, fighting back a smile. It seemed that the new scholar shared his interests as well.

"A wise perspective, indeed. Perhaps our English rain is simply encouraging a literary lifestyle."

"Yes, your grace."

"My lady" he continued, a note of genuine admiration in his voice, "I must tell you, your handwriting is truly exquisite. Tell me, just how many languages have you learned."

You felt a blush creep into your cheeks at his compliment. There was something sincere in his eyes as he waited for your answer, looking at you like your accomplishments were the greatest thing in the world. You opened your mouth to respond but then a loud knock sounded on the door and a priest entered.

"Yes, Father Beocca," Alfred seemed irritated at the interruption.

Father Beocca's eyes glanced from you to the king, and despite the fact that you were sitting in a chair quite some distance away from him, you felt a strange flash of awkward embarrassment run through you.

"My king, Uhtred is here to see you," the priest finally stated.

Alfred sighed and turned toward you with an apologetic smile, "Shall we continue our conversation another time then, my lady? It seems that I am needed elsewhere."

"Yes, of course, your grace."

You quickly took your leave then, choosing to take one of your books and go read in the garden. You had just settled yourself into a comfortable nook when loud boisterous laughter caught your attention. Turning your gaze towards the source of the commotion, you spotted three men, two of whom were dressed in the attire of warriors. Their boisterous behaviour was evident as they playfully teased and shoved the third man, who was clad in robes that resembled those of Father Beocca. However, a leather breastplate adorned his monk's attire, hinting at a surprising duality of roles – priest and fighter.

The two warriors were engaged in a lively exchange with the monk, their laughter echoing through the garden. You couldn't help but smile as you watched the scene unfold. Their camaraderie and jesting reminded you of the Caliph's sons back home, when your father would take you to visit the palace.

One of the warriors, a bearded man with broad shoulders and a hearty laugh, clapped the monk on the back.

"Come now, Osferth," he said between chuckles, "surely your devotion to the Lord could use a bit of levity now and then."

The monk, Osferth, grinned in response, "Aye Finan, it is said that laughter is the best medicine, is it not?"

The other warrior, a lean and quick-witted fellow, joined in with a jest, "Well, if that's the case, Osferth, then Finan here will live to be a hundred and you shall die tomorrow!"

Osferth elbowed the tall man in the ribs, "Not before I knock some sense into you Sihtric."

Their jovial banter and good-natured teasing continued, creating a lively atmosphere in the serene garden. You couldn't help but be amused by their antics and the familiarity of their interactions, watching them for quite some time.

The trio of men eventually noticed your presence, and with their laughter dying down, they made their way over to you. As they approached, their expressions revealed a mixture of curiosity and surprise.

The broad-shouldered warrior, Finan, whose eyes twinkled with mischief, was the first to speak. "Well, what have we here?" he said with a grin. "A traveller from foreign shores, I presume?"

"Yes, I am from Baghdad, my lord."

The warrior, clearly taken with you, couldn't resist a flirtatious remark.

"Lady, I must say, you are a wondrous addition to our English garden."

You snorted at his attempt at flirtation.

Meanwhile, the monk with the leather breastplate maintained a more respectful demeanour.

"Greetings, lady, I am Osferth," he said with a nod. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. May I ask what brings you to our humble Wessex?"

You found the monk's polite curiosity quite refreshing.

"Greetings to you too, Osferth. I've come to further my studies here. Wessex has much to offer in terms of knowledge and history, and I hope to make the most of it."

"Well, my lady, if ever you wish to explore our English shores, I'd be delighted to be your guide," it was Finan who spoke again and you could not help but laugh at his words.

"Thank you, kind sir. Your offer is most gracious."

“Call me Finan, my lady.”

Your change continued as they asked more about you and your hometown and you asked about theirs. You found out that they were a band of warriors who followed some fellow named Uhtred, the very same Uhtred who was currently speaking to King Alfred. As the conversation flowed, you discovered that you enjoyed speaking with these men. Their witty banter and friendly demeanour made you feel at ease, despite the foreignness of your surroundings. You shared stories of your travels, your scholarly pursuits, and the cultural nuances of your homeland. The men, in turn, regaled you with tales of their own adventures.

As you continued to engage in playful banter with the warriors, you remained oblivious to the presence of King Alfred and Uhtred, who had ventured outside and were observing the lively exchange.

Eventually, with a confident stride, Uhtred made his way toward your group to make his introduction and Father Beocca approached the king with his concerns.

"Your Majesty," he began cautiously, "I must admit, I have reservations about entrusting your treatment to a foreigner, especially one from so distant a land. We must be cautious of witchcraft and unfamiliar practices."

King Alfred turned to Father Beocca, his expression thoughtful but resolute, "Father Beocca, I understand your concerns, but the lady is no ordinary foreigner. She hails from Baghdad, a city known for its innovative medical advancements and a center of learning in the Islamic world. She comes as one of their finest scholars, sent by the Caliph himself."

"I see, your grace."

"I have read extensively about the great Islamic civilization, and its contributions to science, medicine, and philosophy. I believe we have much to learn from her, not only about medicine but also about fostering understanding and collaboration between our cultures. They have succeeded in uniting several lands under one caliphate, so perhaps we might learn how we may unite England as well."

Father Beocca, though still cautious, nodded in understanding, "Your Majesty, I trust your judgment. It is my fervent hope that the lady's presence here will indeed lead to beneficial knowledge and that she will uphold the values of wisdom and compassion."

"Thank you, Father Beocca. Let us have faith in this unique opportunity for cultural exchange and enlightenment. Her presence is a bridge between worlds, and I believe it is a path toward a brighter future for Wessex."

Over the course of the next few months, you became familiar with the routines of the Wessex palace. King Alfred allowed you to shadow him throughout his day, believing that you could provide valuable insights into his own activities. It was a decision that would lead to a profound connection between the two of you.

Every day, you diligently prepared poultices and medications for the king’s ailments, and often you’d recite the recipe to him and explain the purpose of each herb and plant that went into it. He found that he trusted you completely but he was still comforted by your transparency and the efforts you took to explain things to him. Sometimes he would insist on accompanying you on walks and you would point out the various native English plants and their counterparts back home. You also documented the king's activities and observations in your notebook. At times, he would request to see your notebook, often just to admire the beauty of your script. He marvelled at the graceful lines of your writing, and the intricate calligraphy that adorned the pages.

Your interactions went beyond the formalities of your initial meeting. King Alfred, always eager to learn, would occasionally ask you to translate certain passages from your native language and over time, your bond grew stronger. King Alfred began to look forward to each day, eager to see your bright and colourful veil, a striking contrast to your plain English gowns. He would wonder which hue you would choose, and it became a delightful anticipation in his daily routine.

Your conversations transcended the realm of duty and scholarly pursuits. The two of you shared your favourite books, discussing the nuances of various works and debating the merits of different translations. Your insights challenged Alfred's own understanding, and he cherished these moments of intellectual stimulation.

As the days turned into weeks and then months, Alfred realized that you had become an important fixture in his life. your presence was a source of inspiration, a reminder of the power of knowledge, and a testament to the potential for understanding and collaboration between different cultures.

He found himself thinking of you when he was apart from you, reminiscing about how your eyes would dance with mirth as you argued with him about the inaccuracies of translated works, or how your laughter would fill the palace corridors. You had not only enriched his pursuit of knowledge but had also touched his heart, becoming a cherished friend and confidante in the process.

Alfred could still vividly recall the way you had looked at him with genuine wonder and appreciation when he had shown you his humble library. He knew that compared to the great libraries of Alexandria and Baghdad, his collection was modest, but you had delighted in it all the same. Your eyes, filled with curiosity and admiration, had swept over the numerous scrolls and manuscripts, taking in the wealth of knowledge contained within those walls.

In that moment, as you softly murmured your thanks, Alfred felt his breath catch. He was struck not only by the beauty of your physical presence but also by the grace with which you carried yourself and the genuine enthusiasm you displayed for learning. Your voice had a melodic quality that lingered in his memory. It was a voice that seemed to breathe life into the ancient texts that surrounded you and the king found himself quite enamoured with you. The two of you spent many a late night pouring over scrolls together, and although he always kept a respectful distance, Alfred found himself wanting to brush away the stray strands of hair that fell across your forehead, having escaped the tightly bound coil you usually kept your hair in.

Tonight was one such night as the dim light of the candle burned low, and after a lively discussion on herbal medicine, you had fallen asleep on one of the ancient manuscripts. Alfred, his mind still buzzing with the echoes of your conversation, fought against the pull of sleep. Instead, he watched you slumber, his heart filled with a mixture of admiration and tenderness.

In the soft candlelight of the library, you appeared even more enchanting. Your thick eyelashes brushed against your cheeks as you slept peacefully, your features serene. Your form rose and fell with each gentle breath, a rhythmic reminder of the tranquil cadence of sleep. Alfred couldn't help but be captivated by your beauty in this unburdened state. The play of shadows and light highlighted the delicate contours of your face, and the soft glow of the manuscripts around you lent an almost ethereal quality to the scene. You looked like a vision from a dream.

As he watched your slumber, a sudden, unexpected urge welled up within him. He was struck by the temptation to lean in and kiss you, but he quickly banished the traitorous thought. What an absurd thing for a king to do, to force his affections on a guest in his home. Especially when he had no way of knowing if you returned his feelings. He would have to content himself with the simple act of watching you sleep, his heart filled with a deep and unspoken longing.

He also found himself wondering if you were betrothed, for you couldn’t possibly be married and still be here. What man would not accompany you or let you out of his sight if you were his wife? Although you had discussed many things, you did not stray close to personal topics such as family. You were only a few years younger than him and surely you had to have someone in your life. And even if you didn’t, what could you possibly want with an ailing man like him when a woman as accomplished as you could have anyone in the world?

Such melancholy things plagued him as he eventually drifted asleep on the table across from you, his final thoughts fixating on what it might feel like to have your lips against his.

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whumpshaped · 10 months

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hey i’m really sorry if this is dumb but do you ever feel bad about enjoying whump? if so, how do you deal with it? i’m having a hard time with liking it. i love reading it but it occasionally makes me feel like a terrible person

its not dumb! i have some disorders that make it hard for me to feel bad abt stuff just for moral reasons alone, but i do get the terrible feeling sometimes when im afraid others will think im a terrible person lol if that makes any sense- so yeah i get the shame around it. i was lucky enough to be the quirky fun guy anyway so having slightly stranger interests wasnt a big deal for me.

this got very long bc i always have many thoughts on this

let me just start this by saying u totally dont have to feel bad for liking it. at all. everybody tends to like some form of whump, even if they dont call it that. the middle aged christian woman reading her 100th romance novel packed with fucking angst is an avid enjoyer of emotional whump in my book. and the guy who jokes about whump enjoyers being crazy and then turns around and watches marvel movies with blood and beat up heroes in it, well-

humans are just fascinated with pain. physical, emotional, all of it. it's just how we are, i think. we love to explore pain in fantasy, through characters separate from us, while we sit in our room comfortably (controlled danger! like rollercoasters). it can be cathartic. it can be how we find and understand ourselves. it can be comforting to know hey, this character went through something like that, that means the author must have some experience with it. there's at least one other human who gets me.

enjoying/reading/writing whump can be a perfect outlet, like hitting a punching bag repeatedly. it can be how someone digests their own trauma. it can just be a kink thing. it doesn't have to have deep moral things attached to it, sometimes seeing fictional characters hurt just tickles the brain and that's that. it doesn't matter, because it's all fictional, it doesn't hurt anyone. unless your preferred media is like, literal hate speech and propaganda against real life people, (in which case it DOES hurt ppl), there's literally nothing wrong with looking at a character being beaten and going "hey, thats cool".

also i will never not say this but even the fucken bible is straight whump and no one will ever change my mind. i tried to be a good christian and what did i find? whump.

also, there's like... a huge portion of people who read whump for the comfort of it. yes the character goes through shit, yes it's horrible, but guess what, they come out on the other side unquestionably changed but still worthy of recovery. they find peace, they heal, they find friends and family, they're comforted and listened to. that's something a lot of people read whump for. there's a reason it's called hurt/comfort. and there's also a very good post about how so many of us read it because the whumpees' trauma is always acknowledged. maybe not in the story, but we as readers understand that they went through some shit, and thus their trauma is always validated in some way. that can be a comfort as well, in a world where so many people's issues get brushed under the rug and ignored and overlooked and straight up invalidated.

but even if you're not into the comfort aspect (which i wasnt for a long time!!!!! i was strictly here for the hurt!!!!!!) you're not some sort of monster for it. i'd say quite the contrary. i'd say if you regularly engage with media like this, where the character's emotions are laid out so bare, and explored so deeply, you're more in tune with your own emotions too. i couldve punched holes in walls like some people i know (i have anger issues), but instead i grabbed my laptop and wrote about a character being beaten to a pulp. no damage to person or property. done. others read it and enjoyed it, and i even got serotonin from likes and reblogs, which lifted my mood, so that was a whole net positive.

seriously look at the most popular media too. it's whump. always has been. a good friend of mine whos a little weirded out by some of the gore i write is OBSESSED with game of thrones for example. and he recommended it to me because hey i love bloody stuff dont i? and i loved the torture scenes and he loved to hate and be enraged and a little grossed out by them. we enjoyed the series together. neither of us was terrible for it.

all this to say, you're not the odd one out. even if your interests count as more "taboo", like some of mine, unless you go out there and punch someone in the face, youre good in my books. and again, even punching someone in the face can be morally neutral or positive between consenting adults so. HUMANS JUST ENJOY EXPLORING PAIN. THATS MY HOT TAKE FOR TODAY.

thank u for coming to my ted talk

#asks #i hope u find peace in regards to ur interest in whump #because the thing is. if u had a good friend who has been nothing but kind and helpful to everyone around #but then it came out that they enjoy reading gorey horror stories #would u actually say they were then a bad person?#give urself some grace. im sure ur a good person. like. consciously. putting in effort to be good #and thats what matters

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thejewitches · 1 year

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So I kinda grew up in an evangelical environment, and I'm just now able to expose myself to and learn about other religions. The only things I learned about Judaism growing up were likely very twisted to suit the teachings of the pastors. I heard a lot about "messianic Jews" (which I now know is very much not a thing) and how "a lot" of Jewish people converted because they began to believe that Jesus was the messiah (yeah it was bad, really bad)

Anyways since I'm trying to educate myself, I'm trying to not just read about other religions, but if possible, I'm trying to read the holy books of the religions as well. I talked to a Muslim friend I had at work and he told me I could read the Quran (I guess I felt weird about reading it because I wasn't looking to convert to Islam). In the same vein, could I read the Talmud to learn more? I was told that the Bible and the Talmud were the same growing up (so there was no point in reading it, according to my elders, also incorrect information). Is there a particular translation that would be better to read?

Very sorry for all the parenthetical statements I was trying to keep it brief but I have severe adhd so thoughts just come at they please. Love your blog, and I'm very happy to be learning a lot from you already, and unlearning a lot in the process, so thank you for posting resources and the like. Very appreciated.

Could I read the Talmud to learn more?

The short answer is: Reading the Talmud without knowing how or what you are reading will not give you the information you are looking for. The sentiment of reading to learn more is wonderful, but on your own without any prior learning, it is tantamount to reading a book in a language you don't speak to understand the poetry of the language better. You can do it, but you won't have the tools to decipher it in any meaningful way. If you want to learn more about Judaism, studying Talmud is definitely not the place to start.

There is something called Daf Yomi where Jews study one single page of Talmud every single day. With 2,711 pages in the Talmud, one Daf Yomi cycle takes about 7 years, 5 months--and it takes this long because studying the Talmud to understand the Talmud is not just reading a book. There are ways you can just read it, sure, but that doesn't mean you will be learning or understanding what you are reading in the way that Jews do (just as you can read a series of random words without actually comprehending what is in front of you).

If you're looking to study Talmud, have you studied Torah with Jews? Begun to understand the Jewish perspective on the Torah? How we approach our texts with a completely different eye than Christians? How the Old Testament you grew up with may look nothing like what we know and love?

If you're certain that the answer to those questions is yes, and you feel ready to start learning Talmud, see if there is a local rabbi in your area who offers a class or a seminar. Many are free. It is meant to be a community activity. But chances are, that isn't the case.

But frankly: you don't need to study Talmud to learn about Jews and Judaism. There is no need for that. The best way to learn about Judaism is always going to be listening to Jews. Listen to our conversations, hear us, and read the resources we create to share about Judaism. One of the greatest barriers that people often face is shedding the unrealized paradigm and perspective that is left from an evangelical upbringing. Challenging those perspectives is paramount.

If you feel more than a small draw to know, you can go ahead and study Torah, and maybe eventually study Talmud, but if all you want is to know more about Judaism, studying Talmud is not step one.

This is the layout of a Talmud page in Hebrew--it is much more than just a straightforward reading, especially if you want to genuinely engage with the text.

This is, of course, but the opinion of one. The Jewish community is made up of more opinions than individuals and all deserve to be heard.

#jumblr #jewish #judaism #talmud

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olderthannetfic · 11 months

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I feel like adding onto the whole aroace sex-repulsion discussion.

Apologies for the wall of text.

For context: I'm aroace and romance- and sex-neutral. I don't go looking for sex or anything like that, and I don't masturbate very often as I don't have a high libido either. I'm also married, and my spouse is in the same boat as me. I'm also autistic and I have Mild Intellectual Disability. I could also have ADHD but that was never evaluated for me growing up and I don't care to go looking for one now. I also grew up very religious; not Christian, but my religion has the same view of "wait until you're married to have sex". And I'm not white, so there's that.

All that considered, I have an ongoing fic series where the MC is aroace and has autism + MID, and I have gotten so many comments (and upon further investigation, more often than not from people who aren't even a part of these groups) that are trying to "well actually" me that "it's infantalising to make autistic characters aroace", or "aces like sex", or "aromantic people don't date", or "aroace Black characters are racist", and so and such.

Despite writing a very wide variety of a-spec characters, from aroace couples in a QPR to an aroallo character in a casual agreement with someone they're close to, to some not interested in that stuff at all (both aroace and allo), to religious characters getting around not being allowed to have sex by doing sex stuff that "technically" isn't sex stuff.

Some people just love complaining about your work and want something incredibly specific when it comes to telling stories about minorities, especially if its something that was written to deconstruct your own experiences. Some people are Just Like That. It's annoying, but we can block them at least.

Now, if you (whomever is reading this) or the stories you write contain minority characters, and others have a very narrow view of what that should look like, that's not your fault and you're not wrong and broken for it. If you're aroace and very romance- and sex-negative, that's fine. If you're autistic and you think you might be or are a-spec, you're not being childish and you're not a robot.

Honestly, I think all of this crap comes from a combination of stereotypes (like the simultaneous sexualisation and de-sexualisation of people of colour, the assumption that mentally disabled people are too immature for adult relationships) and people having to make sure that people who have newly come across the concept of asexuality understand that attraction and libido are two different things—seriously, I once had someone told me that my spouse was raping me because "ace people don't have sex", which completely disregards what consent even is—and that has led to a bunch of well meaning but ignorant people trying to over-correct.

But that's not my problem and neither is it yours.

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sevensoulmates · 9 days

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I’d actually love further deconstruction of Eddie’s Catholic guilt — it was one of those things that was just a largely accepted fanon thing for a long time so to see it actually acknowledged is very very interesting. As someone who’s also queer and has a lot of religious trauma/guilt (I grew up Indian orthodox Christian, so not the same but … you know) it’d be really gratifying and eye opening to see how that is developed and acknowledged with Eddie.

Yes me TOO!!!!! What's really interesting is that I think bringing Eddie's parents back into the mix somehow could possibly stir up some more feelings about that too. I don't want to integrate Marisol TOO far into Eddie's life BUT you know what I think would be interesting? A storyline where Eddie's parents come to town and they meet Marisol and they LOVE her. She's everything they ever wanted for Eddie. A Latina, a devout catholic with better "morals" than Shannon, someone motherly who gets along with Chris, and someone who "fits" into their idea of who Eddie should've been with this whole time.

They could start making outward comparisons to Shannon, either subtly or on the nose. Enough so that Eddie's reeling because his parent's treatment of Shannon was horrendous and now they're being super nice to Marisol? Maybe they even start bringing up shit to Eddie like "why haven't you put Chris in Sunday school?" or "maybe you should look into sending Chris to the private catholic high school" or "you should let CHRIS choose what he wants to believe, what if he wants to study catholicism and you're letting your own biases get in the way Eddie", etc. OR they could start pressuring Eddie about possibly marrying Marisol, and it starts to feel like the early days of Shannon's pregnancy and his Ana Flores Panic all over again.

Or let's bring Buck into it! Maybe Buck (+Tommy?) are a part of this get-together, and Eddie's parents find out that Buck (who they know because Eddie and Chris always talk about him) is bisexual and they don't really *understand* it per se. Not sure they'd be outwardly homophobic, but it would be interesting if they're like subtly disapproving and it again reminds Eddie of his youth and it pains him for a reason that feels so personal to him this time because now it's not just other strangers they're disapproving of, it's Buck--who's Eddie's heart--and Tommy, his mirror. They could make comments like "Good for them, but what if they want to have children? two men can't really raise children on their own, kids need a mother" and Eddie's just triggered so much, but he doesn't understand why.

IDK IDK IDK there's just SO MUCH they could do with Eddie's catholic guilt that doesn't necessarily HAVE to be connected to Marisol. I hope, I plead, I BEG the show to dig a little deeper on this one. I know they can do it.

#911 abc #speculation #eddie diaz

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remyfire · 1 month

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U write like a repressed christian housewife who has unfulfilled sex

Hey there!

I'm really sorry I haven't been giving you the attention you've been lusting for over the past three months of you attempting to harass me under, what are we up to now, four different accounts? Five? More than that? But frankly nothing you've tried to insult me with has been very interesting—including the other ask you sent four hours ago almost on the dot.

I understand how upsetting it can be when the person you're trying to make angry is neither affected by your words or giving you the time of day, so I'd like to recommend that you pick up a new hobby instead of trying to get a rise out of people. Cross-stitching is a really satisfying endeavor. There's some incredible small businesses you can support if you take up something like watercolor painting. Volunteering at an animal shelter might give you a degree of personal fulfillment.

But at the end of the day, I know you're lonely. I know you're upset because you feel like your writing is underappreciated. I know you're sad due to a lack of community. But at some point, I really hope you can begin to understand that the only way you're going to form a community of people who love, support, and cherish you is by exhibiting kindness and interest in their lives, passions, and work rather than sending asks ranging from childish insults to violent suicide bait.

I'm hoping things improve for you. When you're ready to get started on working through the things you've said and done to people, it's gonna suck initially. There's nothing particularly fun about looking at your face in the mirror and accepting that you've enthusiastically, gleefully decided to be the villain in the lives of many, many people rather than taking those uncomfortable feelings of envy and depression and anger and learning appropriate coping strategies to help them pass through you instead of letting them become a weapon in your hand. But I do hope that when that day comes, you will have found someone who wants to let you lean on them rather than letting your own behavior continue to alienate you from not only your fandoms but also the entire world around you.

#my ramblings

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midwestmade29 · 4 months

Text

It's a Wonderful Life 💙

To Anonymous: Whew, this one's a doozy, but worth the read! Thank you again for your request. I hope you enjoy what I came up with 🥰

Word count: 2,174 Divider by: Me 🙂 Original Anonymous Request: Can I possibly send a Christian x Female!Reader request? Maybe the Reader and Christian end up pregnant and she has to relinquish her title and the request is basically following them through their pregnancy and the after math of a complicated pregnancy and their lives as Parents (as well as juggling parenting Isla as well)

Due to the topics covered in this story, minors do not interact. If you're not 18+ years old, please KEEP SCROLLING.

Some topics and scenarios mentioned in the story may be upsetting/and or triggering for some readers. Read at your own discretion.

Disclaimers: (Complicated) Pregnancy, mention of sex, hospital stays, illness (flu), mention of gestational diabetes, medical testing, (medical) shots, preterm labor, labor pains, bedrest, cesarean section (surgery), postpartum recovery, caring for a newborn.

An OB (obstetrician) is a doctor who cares for the mother and baby throughout pregnancy. They also deliver the baby.

A baby in a breech position means they are upside down. (Feet first instead of head first)

C-section (cesarean section) is a surgical way to deliver a baby.

“Well, what’s it say?” Christian asked nervously. Your eyebrows knit together the longer you stared at the pregnancy test in your hand. “I’m not sure. Do you think we waited the full 10 minutes? There’s not really anything showing right now.” The two of you walked away after you sat the test back down on the bathroom counter, deciding to wait a few more agonizing minutes. Christian sat on the bed while you absentmindedly tossed things in your suitcase for your flight that was leaving early in the morning. You and your shiny AEW Women’s World Championship were set to appear on Dynamite tomorrow, which was something you had been looking forward to, but your headspace was somewhere else now. “What’s going through your mind baby? Talk to me,” Christian asked softly, motioning for you to come and join him on the bed. He wrapped you in his arms, embracing you tightly as your head rested against his chest. “Just worried, I guess. We have a lot on our plates right now with everything. We’re traveling every week, sometimes multiple times a week all while juggling our home and family life. I’ve only been the Women’s World Champion for a couple months. My championship reign will be cut short if I am pregnant,” you sighed as Christian tightened his embrace. “If the test is positive, will you not be happy about it? Concern laced Christian’s every word. “I’m conflicted! Torn between the happiness of expanding our family and sadness for my career. I feel like I was just getting started showing everyone what I’m made of you know?” Your thoughts were a jumbled mess, but Christian did his best to calm them. “I know baby. It’s a lot to take on right now, but we’ll make it work. We’re in this together, every step of the way! As far as your career goes, your fans will miss you, but they will understand if you’re absent for a while. Just think of the epic comeback you’d make. It would be the biggest and most anticipated in company history!”

It was hard to miss the two pink lines that were now visible on the white plastic stick sitting on the counter. Christian’s blue eyes were focused on you while you were processing everything. “Y/N? Are you okay?” he asked. You nodded your head yes, joy replacing all your previous concerns and doubt. Seeing the positive pregnancy test changed everything in an instant! A switch had been flipped as the reality of the situation set in, easing the sting you felt about your career. This baby was so much more important than anything else! You threw your arms around Christian’s neck, and he held you tightly as he spun you around. Images of a little blue-eyed baby danced in your mind and the thought made your heart swell! When Christian sat you on your feet, a certain little girl crossed your mind, prompting you to ask Christian a serious question, “How do you think Isla will take the news? She’s been an only child for almost 10 years now. Do you think she’ll be upset?” “I’m sure she will have her own sentiments about it, but overall, I think she’ll be excited! There’s only one way to find out…”

Telling Isla she was going to be a big sister went extremely well! You had come up with the idea to order a custom puzzle for the 3 of you to put together to tell her the big news. You had taken a picture of a heart she had drawn for you some time ago and uploaded it on the puzzle website, editing her design slightly by putting the words “You’re going to be a big sister!” in the middle of it. Within a few days, the puzzle was delivered and the 3 of you put it together after Isla got home from school. When the last piece of the puzzle was set in place, she let out a loud shriek! She wrapped her arms around your neck squeezing tightly before running over to Christian and jumping in his arms. She started rapid firing questions at each of you, making you and Christian laugh at her excitement. “Is it a boy or a girl? When will its birthday be? Can the baby sleep in my room?” she rambled on. Could she be any cuter?! Telling her was the easy part. Breaking the news to your fans live on Dynamite was a different story.

Standing in front of a live camera and telling the world you had to relinquish your Women’s World Championship was incredibly hard for you. You choked up placing it in Tony Schiavone’s hands as it seemed to mock you with its shimmer and shine when you did. Dynamite cut to a commercial break, relief washing over you now that your announcement was over and done with. You let out a rush of air once Christian closed the door to your dressing room and you walked over to him needing to feel his strong arms wrapped around you. “I think that went well; all things considered. You’re amazing Y/N. You know that, right?” he spoke gently. “Thanks for supporting me, Christian. It means the world to me! Now, our next adventure begins. Baby Cage will be here before we know it!”

Days turned into months in the blink of an eye! Your baby bump was very prominent now, and Christian loved it. He always had his hands on your belly! Whenever he had the chance, he would lay his head on your lap and talk to the baby while planting soft kisses against your skin. Late one night while you and Christian were tucked in bed, he fell asleep with his head next to your stomach. You ran your fingers through his hair while you reminisced about your pregnancy up to this point. You remember how his eyes lit up when the monitor showed the baby at your first ultrasound appointment when you were 20 weeks pregnant. Both of you were mesmerized as you watched the little baby you created together wiggling around on the screen, and how you both got teary eyed when the ultrasound technician told you “It’s a boy!” You’ll never forget how nervous Christian was the first time you met with your OB doctor. He wanted to ask her if the two of you could still have sex despite you being pregnant. You could instantly see the relief he felt when she told him yes! A chill ran through you when your mind wandered back to the time you were admitted into the hospital because you were extremely dehydrated and sick with the flu. It was the longest 3 days of your life! You recalled the next hurdle that came when you failed your gestational diabetes screening at 24 weeks into your pregnancy. The test came back as positive which meant a second more invasive test had to be done. Thankfully your results from the second test showed that you didn’t have it!

The scariest moment of all came late one night when you started having intense pain in your lower half. Christian rushed you to the hospital after you called your doctor, and she told you to come in to be monitored. “You’re in preterm labor,” your doctor explained. She went over the details of everything that was going on calmly, “It’s too early in your pregnancy to deliver now. You’re 33 weeks along and the goal is to be at least 39-40 weeks for a safe and healthy baby. I’m going to administer medicine that will reduce your contractions, ultimately delaying your labor. I would also like to administer 2 steroid shots that will help the baby’s lungs mature faster in case we have to deliver early. I’m very confident that we will be able to halt your labor and keep that little guy safe and sound inside until we’re ready to meet him!” The air in the room didn’t feel quite as heavy after the doctor explained her plan. When she gave you and Christian time alone, it was obvious that he was shaken up. “I’m in good hands baby. I fully trust the doctor and her plan. We’ll get through this together and our baby boy will be okay!” you reassured him while giving his hand a light squeeze. The discomfort you felt from the shots the doctor gave you was ultimately worth it when your labor had successfully been stopped. You were eventually discharged from the hospital with strict orders from your doctor. You were placed on bedrest and could no longer travel with Christian unless it was to a place that was pre-approved by the doctor. No exercising or heavy lifting either. The couch and your bed were your new best friends! Whatever you needed to do to keep the baby secure, you were going to do it.

Ready or not, here he comes! At 38 weeks pregnant, it was time to finally meet your baby boy. You had met the goal your doctor set for you after your preterm labor scare! Your last ultrasound showed a healthy baby, and he was measuring right where he should be. Everything was going well until another curveball was thrown your way. Your doctor had come to check on you when she noticed something was off. “Was the baby breech at her last appointment?” the doctor quietly asked the nurse. They conversed for a few minutes more before the doctor directed her attention back to you. “Okay Y/N, the baby is in the breech position. To safely deliver him, I must do an emergency c-section…” her words started fading away as you got lost in your own thoughts. Emergency? Surgery? Must move as quickly as possible? Christian could tell your thoughts were in a downward spiral the longer you blankly stared past the doctor. He took your hand in his and kissed your knuckles, speaking calmly when your eyes locked onto his. “Y/N, I promise I won’t leave your side! I know this isn’t what we planned on, but you got this! You’re incredible baby. I’m in awe of your strength and courage!”

Never did you think that the sound of crying would be music to your ears, but hearing your son wail after he was born was the best thing ever! You had successfully delivered a healthy 6lb, 4oz precious baby boy! Christian was over the moon holding his son in his arms for the first time. It was a moment that you’ll never forget! As soon as you were taken care of and wheeled into your recovery room, Christian brought Isla in to meet her baby brother. “He’s soooo cute!” she exclaimed. She was smitten with him right from the start! If she could’ve held him all night, she most certainly would’ve. You and the baby were able to go home just 2 days after delivery. Recovering from your surgery was rough on all of you since you were healing, and you still had restrictions and things you just couldn’t do. It frustrated you not being able to do simple tasks and having to rely on everyone else to do things for you! Christian encouraged you to give yourself some grace, especially after everything you went through your entire pregnancy. Deep down you knew you would bounce back; it would just take time. 6 weeks into parenthood you were starting to feel a little better. Your body was healing, and your son was growing and changing by the minute. Just yesterday you and Christian took Isla and the baby to the zoo, it being one of your first outings as a family of 4. Isla had settled in to being a big sister well, but that’s not to say there weren’t pangs of jealousy and rough patches. This was a major adjustment period for all 3 of you, but the love and adoration each of you had for one another remained strong and continued to grow as each day passed!

You quickly learned that parenting was a juggling act! You and Christian dividing your time and attention between two kids, each other, and AEW was extremely difficult. Splitting yourself between 3 people that rely on you was hard. Having to put your career goals on the self (for now) was hard. Making sure Isla was getting the love and attention she needed and deserved was hard. Taking care of a fussy baby in the early hours of the morning with little to no sleep was hard. Finding alone time with Christian was hard. But, at the end of the day when you tuck Isla in bed and she tells you she loves you, and when you watch Christian rocking your baby boy to sleep in his strong arms from the doorway of the nursery, it eases the stress the difficult days bring and makes everything you went through to get to this point worth it. How did you get so lucky? It definitely is a wonderful life 💙

#christian cage #jay reso #captain charisma #instant classic #christian4peeps #aew #all elite wrestling #christian cage fanfic #christian cage fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #aew fanfiction #christian cage x you #christian cage x y/n

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thewordinblackandred · 3 months

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Hey y'all! I'm Micah, the host of the leftist Bible study podcast The Word in Black and Red. We are just finishing up recording our first season of the show, covering the book of Genesis. As we head into the second season, this time covering the book of Exodus, I'm looking for even more co-hosts to come on and share their leftist Bible takes. If you have thoughts on any of the following stories, please reblog them, and I'll be in contact!

- S 2.5 Exodus 4:1-17: The Snake Staff and the Withered Hand

- S 2.6 Exodus 4:18-31: Emergency Circumcision

- S 2.8 Exodus 6:1-27: God Reassures Moses of his Calling

- S 2.10 Exodus 7:14-25: Plague I: The Blood

- S 2.11 Exodus 8:1-15: Plague II: The Frogs

- S 2.12 Exodus 8:16-32: Plagues III & IV: The Lice & the Swarms

- S 2.13 Exodus 9:1-12: Plagues V & VI: The Death of Cattle & the Boils

- S 2.14 Exodus 9:13-35: Plague VII: The Thunder & Hail

- S 2.15 Exodus 10:1-20: Plague VII: The Locusts

- S 2.16 Exodus 10:21-29: Plague IX: The Darkness

- S 2.17 Exodus 11: God Announces the Final Plague

- S 2.18 Exodus 12:1-28: The First Passover

- S 2.19 Exodus 12:29-13:16: Plague X: The Firstborn

- S 2.20 Exodus 13:17-15:21: Pharaoh's Army Lost at Sea

- S 2.22 Exodus 17:8-16: Israel Defeats Amalek

- S 2.23 Exodus 18: The Vanguard Organizes the Masses

- S 2.24 Exodus 19: Arrival at Mt. Sanai

- S 2.25 Exodus 20: The Ten Commandments

- S 2.26 Exodus 21-22:15: Slavery, Violence, & Property

- S 2.27 Exodus 22:16-23:9: "Seduction" Marriage, Immigrants, and Usury

- S 2.28 Exodus 23:10-19: Sabbath Rest

- S 2.29 Exodus 23:20-33: Joshua Foretold

- S 2.30 Exodus 24: The Mosaic Covenant

- S 2.31 Exodus 25-28: Instructions for God's Dwelling and Vestments

- S 2.32 Exodus 29-31: Proper Worship & the Sabbath

- S 2.34 Exodus 33: Moses Seeks for and Sees God

- S 2.35 Exodus 34-35:3: God's Character, the Renewed Covenant, & Moses' Shining Face

- S 2.37 Exodus 40: God Enters God's Dwelling

FAQ:

"But how can you be a Christian and leftist?" Because Jesus is!

"The Bible isn't about politics. Why are you bringing your own personal agenda to the text?" We all always bring our own biases to the text. The question is simply whether we acknowledge them or not. Most interpretations of the Bible you'll hear twist the Bible to support the status quo. We read the Bible, usually pretty straightforwardly, and realize that that interpretation isn't congruent with the book written by an oppressed people about their liberatory God.

"I don't really know the Bible all that well. What can I contribute?" Your perspective! We read the Bible from a leftist and liberationist perspective, and a big part of the liberationist perspective is that everyone has something to add to our understanding of the Bible. We offer many, often contradictory, readings of a story in each episode. Your job as a co-host isn't to know the Bible in and out, but to do as much reading and/or research as you need to feel comfortable sharing your thoughts with a broader audience.

If you're interested, it doesn't hurt to just post a take! Worst case scenario, you can tell me you're not interested later on. More likely, you'll have a great time recording with us and I'll be DMing you again to get you into new episodes!

#leftist #leftistchristianity #thewordinblackandred #leftistbiblestudy #anarchism #anarchist #communalism #communism

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pigeonwhumps · 3 months

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The Talk

Bug and Company masterlist

Taglist: @littlespacecastle @flowersarefreetherapy @whumplr-reader @whumpinggrounds @painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds @a-funeral-romance @rainydaywhump

Alix and Sarita talk.

1.6k

CWs: BBU, pet whump, derogatory language about sex workers, discrimination against Romantics, past betrayal, fear of abandonment, use of Christianity for discrimination, victim-blaming, brief mention of death, mentions of rape/non-con

"You can sit down while we talk, if you like," offers Alix.

"No."

"Okay. The first thing you should know is that you're free to choose your own name here, if Sarita is the name your owner gave you. Or even if it's not. It's a perfectly good name, though, if you don't want to."

Sarita stiffens. Her back hurts from the tension. How dare she.

"How fucking– I am not changing my name, fuck off. It's my name, I chose it, and I've already had one safehouse try and change it because I'd be forgiven quicker if I had a nice Christian name and not one a dumb slut would have. Fuck off. This name means something to me and I am not changing it. Don't make me."

The last part almost comes out as a plea and she hates that. Hates that she feels like she has to beg to use a name she chose for herself in memory of her dead friend. Because she's not begging ever again.

"I wouldn't make you." She looks at Sarita closely, too closely. "We're not all like Christians Against Pets."

"The fuck d'you know that's where I was?" Are they in contact? Is this a trap? What the fuck is going on?

"They were clearly Christian, and that group is very discriminatory towards Romantics. Also, they have a safehouse branch nearby. That's where O's from. It makes sense."

"Okay. Fine. I'll believe you for now."

Alix's mouth quirks. "Thank you."

"What are the conditions for living here then? Do I gotta– stay away from the other pets or pray or whatever?" Because she's not doing that again. Fuck that.

"No. I certainly don't think you're a bad person or anything else that other people have called you."

Sarita folds her arms. "That I'm a dumb pampered whore who joined up so I could get fucked all the time?"

"Please don't use that kind of language, Sarita."

She quirks an eyebrow. "Would you prefer me to say that I'm a lucky pet because I get to have sex all the time and not be hurt? Because I've heard that too. People only ever care about the sex."

"No," says Alix mildly, "I'd prefer you not to talk about yourself like that at all. Being raped multiple times doesn't make it okay, and it doesn't make you any of those things. Just like it doesn't define my other rescues. Maria wasn't lucky because she was 'only' a Romantic. And it's not just you you're affecting with that language."

Sarita stays quiet. She... hadn't thought of that. What did Maria think she meant? She's shit at meeting other pets, she always hurts them.

At least that means they won't try and get close and the inevitable betrayal won't hurt so much.

She doesn't fucking care though.

"Do you understand, Sarita?" She nods. "Good. Now that part's over with, can we talk about why you were so desperate to run that you stabbed me on the way?"

Sarita shrugs. "My last safehouse betrayed me. I won't let it happen again."

That's her warning. If anyone tries anything she's going, and she doesn't care how many people she has to hurt to do it.

"Well, I certainly won't do that. Which doesn't help, I know. But I do have something for you."

Alix reaches behind her and Sarita prepares to run, but she just holds out a folded pocket knife.

"Here. If it'll make you feel safer."

Sarita takes the weapon cautiously, expecting it to be taken back any second. It's got to be a taunt, a trick, a way of getting her taken on a deadly weapons charge maybe. But Alix just lets her take it.

It's dark blue and feels solid in her hand. She feels a little safer, now. Although that isn't hard.

She swallows. She's not sure what she's feeling, but she knows what the response must be. "Thank you." She hesitates. "Do I gotta pay you back for it? I can... I can fuck well. If you want."

She wouldn't offer. She hates it. But she really does want to keep this knife. And she can always run afterwards, it'll be easier then anyway when Alix is all worn out and sated. Maybe it's the price she has to pay. Better to find out now than be raped later.

"After all that I said, do you think I would?"

Sarita shrugs. "People are hypocrites."

"Maybe I am sometimes. But not when it comes to this. I'm not going to make you pay, in money or blood or sex or anything. This is a gift."

Sarita turns the knife over in her hands, folding out the attachments. This is a Swiss army knife, not just any pocket knife. That knife attachment is definitely longer than normal. And sharp. She's never gotten a gift that's just a gift before. She's not convinced it's not a trap. She'll have to be wary.

She looks up at Alix cautiously, studying her seemingly-open face.

"Oscar and I figured that if you run, you'll need more to survive than just a knife."

Sarita flicks the knife attachment out and holds it in front of her, just in case it's still a trick.

"What are the rules here then? If you want to convince me to stay I need to know what the fuck I need to do if I was to."

She runs the words back through her head. Okay, maybe not the *best* sentence she's ever constructed.

"Well the most important ones are not to use derogatory language, and to respect boundaries and personal space. You don't go into other people's bedrooms unless they specifically allow you to, you stay out of the bathroom if there's others in there, ask before you touch people, that kind of thing. There's a rota for chores, let me know if there's anything on it you can't do for any reason, physically or emotionally. I'll add you in a month if you decide to stay. And to be clear, since you seem to be exceptionally worried about this, you do not have to stay away from people, or common spaces. You can use the common areas whenever you like, including the middle of the night if you want to. Getting yourself a midnight snack is perfectly fine. There's a few times you'll need to stay away from certain rooms, like if it's group therapy time and you don't want to join (Sarita makes a face. Why the fuck would she want that?). I think that's about it."

Alix's speech seems a bit perfect, like it's rehearsed. But anyway.

"What happens if I break the rules? You gonna send me back to WRU or stop food privileges or something?"

"Food isn't a privilege, and I'd never send anyone back or kick them out. We'd have to talk, figure out the reason for it. If you were clashing severely with another resident we'd have to work on a solution. If you decide to stay, I do expect you to work on following the rules, especially the first one. But I don't expect anyone to be perfect."

Sarita nods. "Why the fuck are you so good at speeches anyway? Have you been practicing?"

"Yes. I spent a long messing up before we all brainstormed this together. So, do you want to try staying here? You don't have to stick around if you don't like it."

"Fine. I'll try." She doesn't trust Alix, but there is a miniscule chance she's telling the truth. Maria and Adalia looked fed. And she was raped and assaulted enough on the streets, at least she can have it happen someplace warm.

Alix looks... relieved? What? "Thank you. I'll get you set up with a bedroom near the exit and find you some clothes."

"I should apologise to Maria," says Sarita guiltily, not acknowledging Alix because she doesn't know what to do with that offer. "You gonna stop me going in?"

"No, go right ahead." She steps aside and Sarita walks into the house. She can hear murmuring and that's probably where Maria is, right? She heads towards the sounds.

She peers around the doorway to see a group of people talking, Maria and Adalia included. Well. Okay then. She'd hoped to get Maria on her own but might as well get the nobody wanting her part over in one go.

She steps in front of the doorway and the talking stops abruptly. Yeah, they were definitely talking about her. She pulls herself up taller against the stares, which despite there only being three of them seem to contain every emotion.

"What do you want?" asks Adalia, glaring.

"I came to apologise to Maria," Sarita replies in the same tone. "Then I'll fuck off. Maria, I'm sorry. For threatening you and insulting you or whatever. And I actually mean it, Alix didn't tell me to say it."

"Thank you. I'm not... I understand, that it's hard to trust. It's okay."

Sarita nods curtly and leaves the room. If they want her to fuck off, she'll fuck off. She won't get to stay long if Adalia feels like that about her anyway, because Alix actually likes Adalia.

She doesn't know where her bedroom is. She doesn't know where anything is. But she can sure as fuck find out easily enough, she's not stupid. Alix will be in her room, and if not, she can find her and ask. If she's as welcoming as she pretends to be she'll show Sarita.

It's fine.

#whump #whump writing #bbu #box boy universe #box babe #lady whump #pet whump #sarita oc #alix oc #whumpee and caretaker #bug and company

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