#༻✧ which element would you like to learn about today? ; important

[anika-ann]

Sweet and Ours, Tonight - S.R.

Type: one-shot, established relationship, domestic... filth

Pairing: Steve Rogers x wife!reader   Word Count: 5,8k

Summary:  You and Steve had a long, long week.

You both deserve a reward. Perhaps an evening with undivided attention to each other... and maybe to end the endless week with a bang.

The thing is, Steve has no idea about what’s awaiting him at home. Yet, you have a feeling he will like it - and he'll be happy to show you.

Warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, praise kink, slight authority kink, soft dom/sub elements (with a tad dominant Steve), a sprinkle of possessiveness, potential blasphemy, lingerie kink, marriage kink (if that's a thing), mention of (tender) hair pulling, mention of semi-public sex if you squint really hard, language, FLOOF

A/N: At the time of Cum Together: Community Revival Extravaganza  hosted by @stargazingfangirl18 and @labella420, there were two potential stories on my mind – the soulmate AU one, which I ended up writing, and this one, which fulfils multiple prompts from the list (see the end). The extravaganza is long over – but hopefully, you’ll enjoy 💕

A/N 2: DIVIDER by @saradika; enjoy, but it's smut y'all - read at your own risk and responsibility

Setting the half-full glass of water on the counter, you smiled to yourself as you heard the keys rattle in the lock. The sound meant one of your favourite things in the world: Steve was home.

‘Home’ was your spacious shared apartment near the new upstate Avengers facility, one you and Steve had chosen not because the large complex hadn’t included living quarters, but because you had wanted a place that was truly your own.

On days like this, you were more grateful for that decision than ever. Here, the work and the weight you carried from it could be left at the doorstep, and you could enter a truly safe space, shielded by your love from the outside world. World which could be loud, overwhelming, and at times, evil.

Today, it meant that Steve would try to leave behind the exhaustion and frustration of a week-long conference of the United Nations and adjoined organisations. You, you had left behind the very same sentiments lacing the endless week of extra shifts. Sometimes it felt like the work was never done; be it patching up international relations or patching up the dumbass of the day. Be it dealing with diplomats who barely even listened, let alone acted on their empty promises; or be it repairing damage to human body made by another supposedly human being, battling to keep alive agents who not so rarely held zero regard for their own safety in the process of saving the very world for whose safety Steve was advocating in DC. You wondered where the agents could have possibly got the inspiration for their reckless behaviour – but that was not the kind of thoughts you wanted to entertain tonight, especially since you knew the answer all too well.

Tonight, you wanted to cherish your husband’s company.

You had missed Steve; even when swamped with work, you both took care to stay in contact, confiding one another on as much of your longing for each other’s company as on feeling drained.

You were glad for having had enough wits to plan ahead and be able to come home before him.

It had been no surprise to you that Steve had called you that he was about to arrive home as scheduled, but crankier than planned despite finally leaving the self-contained self-important jerks behind. The relief in his voice had been palpable; and his voice had only grown warmer when he learned you were to already wait for him at home. Your lips had twitched at the guttural sigh he released upon learning, whispering he was really happy to hear that; as were you to hear that he was coming home in one piece, which was unfortunately not a rule.

He loved you, he had said too. So damn much.

You had told him the same, wondering if that was what would leave his lips when he’d see you. Especially since he had no idea what coming his way, should he want it.

The lock barely clicked open and you were already on your way. A rapid carpet-muted staccato of your heels welcomed Steve as he entered, his curiosity clearly piqued in an instant.

He had but a second to take in your appearance – the bloody red pumps, the peek of nude nylons, the beige trench coat reaching just above your knees, your simple but effective hairdo and make-up, dominated by berry-red lipstick – or get his suitcase through the doors and close them. Before he could say as much as hi, you were already cupping his face and kissing him softly, for once not having to stand on your tiptoes too high.

There was a significant part of you which was dangerously close to jumping on him with enough force to slam him against the door and pour all your enthusiasm at seeing him into the kiss. It had taken all your willpower not to do so since your body throbbed with the need – but you didn’t want him to feel ambushed, unsure about his mood. So you revelled in the precious opportunity to touch him, in the feel of the figurative and literal warmth he was radiating, in the taste of his lips you had missed so viscerally; and with the minute mental capacity left, you tried your best to read his reaction.

It would be a shame for your plan and efforts to go to waste; but the last thing you’d want was to push thoroughly exhausted Steve who’d just want some peace into something he’d… be willing but not excited to do.

Your worries were fruitless, however. Steve’s hands came to life immediately, one reaching for your waist, the other to cradle your cheek. His lips responded in kind, even as his smile tasted of surprise. The tension you had got a brief glimpse of melted away from his shoulders, fingertips caressing your skin, nose gently nudging yours as your lips parted, forehead to forehead.

“Hi,” you breathed out contentedly, feeling the tension leaving you as well, warmth spreading through every vein and nerve in your body at Steve’s gentle chuckle instead.

“Hi, love.”

“Welcome home.”

His smile was as nothing short of blinding when he retreated just a bit to look at you and grace you with a shining gaze roaming your face, as if taking in every feature, every line, every arch, every last eyelash for the first time. Your heart thump-thumped in your chest happily as your hands slid to his neck, unable to tear your gaze away from the beautiful image he made.

A man with love.

Your man.

Your husband.

Your extremely handsome husband; every suit, be it a formal wear or his tactical one, accentuated his wide shoulders and sharply cut jaw you couldn’t but run your fingertips over, marvelling at the pure delight in his face.

“I feel very much welcomed, sweetheart,” he assured you, squeezing your waist. Despite being clearly exhausted, his smile was radiant; until it fell a fraction. “Are you going out?”

Your heart hummed with a soft ache; it was impossible to miss his effort not to look disappointed as not to make you feel guilty for having a social life outside your marriage, even if rather inconveniently timed. Bless his good, good heart.

You shook your head with your smile lingering, barely hiding a smirk. “I’m not going anywhere, Mr. Rogers.”

His expression perked up again, his arm sneaking further around your waist as he observed you with playful curiosity. “Oh? Are we going out? Did you plan something, Mrs. Rogers?”

To highlight his indulgence in calling you that – and god knew hearing him say that still sent butterflies to your stomach even after months of that being a reality – his hand moved from your cheek to take you left hand, fingers interlacing; your wedding bands made a soft clinking noise as they met, Steve’s gaze flickering to their combined light with such undiluted joy in that little action you couldn’t but brush your lips over his again, something deep inside you trembling and preening at once.

Your husband.

“Would it be a bad thing? If I did plan something?” you asked, part coy, part genuine. “It’s okay if you’re not in mood for that.”

Steve only smiled wider, dropping a kiss to your knuckles and then your lips, before pulling back just a fraction. He observed you silently and almost absently, yet seemingly with mission-level intent. 

The silence stretched as you awaited his answer, encouraging him – and yourself, because the silence was growing louder with every beat of your heart – with a suddenly unsure smile.

“Steve? Love?”

He blinked, shaking his head lightly. Before you could feel your stomach drop in disappointment at this being his answer, he spoke up.

“Sorry, you… you look beautiful. Got a little distracted here.”

Your belly did a funny flip-flop that had no right to be so deep within; but this gorgeous man had no right to be so perfect either. And you loved him for it.

“I don’t mind going out or staying,” he said softly. “I’m honestly just glad to be home. With you. That’s my favourite thing in the world. Being with you… here, in the home we made together.”

Tremble. Something within you trembled and it was almost comical how those words shook and soothed your soul, a sharp contrast to how very non-poetic your intention to seduce his body was. But that was how you seduced each other the first time and did so over and over again; body, mind and soul alike, tipping the scales in favour of one and then the other and back as the situation allowed.

It was your turn to blink now, fighting the burn of tears in your eyes, threatening to spill at the profound sincerity in Steve’s voice and the adoration in his beautiful blues; they turned all the prettier as a spark of mischief lit them up and he stepped back, releasing you from his warm embrace.

“But, since you got all dolled-up and clearly made plans, it would be a waste. Want to tell me what my orders are, ma’am?”

Excitement lighting up your nerves anew, you stepped back with a hum.

“Well… actually, I made plans to stay in…” Steve’s eyebrow arched a bit, but something beautifully dark flashed in his eyes – a mute understanding that whatever you had planned, you had dolled up for him. For him and him only. “And since you said those people there were all talk, no listening, no action… I thought that maybe you’d a like a change of scenery.”

As you took another step back further into the apartment, Steve discarded his shoes in a lightning speed, his gaze never leaving your face, hanging on your lips for every syllable. 

You bit back a satisfied smile, something hot stirring in your belly. “That maybe, you’d like someone who can listen very well, and is willing to… act? Would you like to tell me my orders, Captain?”

His gaze went to roam – from the top to bottom, drinking in your attire, a perfect trap you had set for both of you to tangle in. The tall red heels. The coat for him to untie. The nylons – which Steve at this point must have understood were, in fact, thigh-highs, perhaps strapped to a garter belt. The hair. That lipstick. That damn lipstick that turned his eyes a shade darker and hungrier, his voice dropping two octaves.

“Is that what you want, sweetheart?”

You raised a challenging brow, a coy smile adorning your red red lips as you toyed with the hem of your coat; Steve knew you well-enough by now to know that you wouldn’t have gone through all this trouble if you hadn’t wanted that. You wanted.

You wanted him, with every fibre of your being, lit alive and reborn divine under his searing hot gaze. You longed to be his, however he pleased. To please him however you could.

At last, he got the message. He seemed to very much revel in that message, in fact.

“Let’s go to the bedroom then.”

He led you by the hand, even though you both knew the way and had walked it many times before, even when blinded by desire, with lips never parting, frantic stumbles and wandering impatient hands. Tonight, there was no rush; steps deliberately slow, you followed his lead, standing still by the doorway when he let go of your hand in favour of stripping his suit jacket as soon as you entered.

Your eyes followed his every move, indulging in the sight of his muscles rippling under the smooth fabric of his white shirt; indulging in the shudder of realization running down his body, coming after his brief confusion of finding you obediently exactly where he had left you.

You barely bit back a smirk at the way his breath hitched.

“Alrighte,” he breathed out as he walked to the foot of the bed, turning his back to it to look at you.

You had never had a man to look at you like that before; his gaze was like the most delicious shockwave igniting every cell in your body with desire and pride.

His. You were your own woman, but goddamn, were you his.

“Alright. Come here, sweetheart.”

You did. Hooked on his burning gaze as he seemed hypnotized by your every step, by every inch erased between you, you walked to him, only stopping when he settled his wide palm over your hip, his other hand soon joining on the other side.

For a moment, he simply observed you, your parted lips, your eyes blown wide, just as aroused by the dynamics as he was. Then, a warm yet mischievous smile lifted the corners of his lips, hands squeezing your hips.

You weren’t sure what you had expected – a kiss, a toss on the bed, his hands ripping the fabric, all things you had encountered and more – but of all options, he chose the one your mind had not offered at the moment. His hands slid lower, inch by inch as he kneeled in front of you, sitting back on his heels, the heat of his skin seeping into yours the second his palms slipped past the edge of the fabric of your coat.

Sensual. Steve was most definitely in mood for sensual tonight and you were not going to complain if for nothing else than for having trouble breathing as his fingertips traced the thin ankle strap of your shoe, warm fingers delicately circling your ankle, cupping your calf, sneaking past your knee to spread over the back of your thigh, inching your legs apart so he could move the coat out of the way and press a lingering kiss to your where the lace of your thigh-high met bare skin of your inner thigh.

Your breath hitched in your throat when his free hand reached for the loose knot on your coat, dextrous fingers undoing it with ease and tugging, all while his lips brushed over your sensitive skin higher and higher towards the apex of your thigh.

“Take it off, love,” he whispered into your heat, tugging at the hem of your coat, the index finger of his other hand slipping under the strap of your garter belt, nosing along your inner thigh and inhaling deeply.

A shudder ran down your spine at the huskiness of his voice, leaving you with no space to even consider embarrassment at your husband’s need to drown himself in the scent of your arousal; you busied yourself with stripping the coat in five seconds flat and dropping it on the floor, rewarded by his warm breathy chuckle.

“So good for me…” He looked up from his spot, caressing along the line of your panties, feasting his eyes on the delicate lace hugging your breasts, at the elaborate but feather-light pattern on your garter belt, at the barely-there panties covering your sex. The smoulder in his pupils as his gaze zeroed on his price was almost too much to bear. Whether you were shy or impatient, you couldn’t tell, but your chest was heaving with every breath, your back arching just a bit at the praise that stroked something deep within you. “My beautiful, irresistible wife…”

“Steve-“

He returned his attention to your thigh, sucking a lovebite just above the hem of your stocking, soothing the offended spot with a butterfly-soft kiss you couldn’t help but sigh his name at again.

He hooked his fingers at the front straps of your garter, urging you forward, closer, as he sat on the floor, back leaning against the foot of the bed, tilting his head back and resting in on the mattress; a content smile played on his lips as if it was the most comfortable spot in the apartment, his hands roaming appreciatively. Over the curve of your hip. Following the pattern of the lace. Along the straps, along the hem. But never, never where your need for him burned, soaking the excuse of underwear over your sex.

“Didn’t have such pretty view in D.C.,” he mused, gaze trailing over the thin fabric already shining with your arousal, trailing all over your body to your face, to your red lips painted just as you knew he loved them. “Never ceases to amaze me. Like a piece of art. So damn perfect… mine to touch.”

You didn’t have timefor body insecurities with Steve. Any imperfection you saw, it didn’t bother him; he’d kiss you everywhere, claiming and loving every piece of your body and soul and mind, as he hadn’t forgotten to mention when he proposed; and then followed up with proving the first part of his claim with intense but the softest damn loving.

The memory of him getting on one knee with a glimmer of tears in his eyes quickly dispersed when his maddeningly delicate touch finally brushed over your slit, your hips instinctively bucking forward; Steve instantly used the opportunity to spread his palms under your bottom, urging you closer and closer until the front of your thighs met the mattress, effectively caging him in, mouth not more than an inch from your mound. He smiled up at you wickedly, forefinger drawing nonsensical patterns over your clothed sex.

“Steve, love-“

You lost your voice when he guided your knee to prop on the mattress next to his head, a violent tug of desire gripping at your core at the implication of what he wanted – stirring as much want as insecurity and hesitance.

You voice was shaky as your gaze found his, the question on your lips so quiet he might miss it hadn’t it been for his enhanced hearing.

“Steve, are you… sure?”

One glance into his eyes told you was more than that.

And the mere thought of him doing what he was leading you towards felt like molten lava poured into your veins, nothing but smouldering heat left behind.

You had never done that. Not with him, not with anyone else.

It was true that Steve could get rather intense when it came to love making – or shameless fucking – but he always drew significant amount of his pleasure from your own. Your husband was but a giver, even as he always coaxed you to give it to him. He had sure been far from shy or prudish in the privacy of your quarters – or in certain cases no one must ever learn about, elsewhere – and he enjoyed all kinds of things, his mouth on you among them. You had explored together, dived into depths of pleasure you hadn’t thought were possible. But you hadn’t---not like this.

Not with you basically on top of his goddamn face.

“Are you?” he asked, pressing a brief kiss to the juncture of your thighs, looking at you from under his eyelashes with a challenge and a plea.

In your exploration, he had pushed your limits; but never you. He’d never do anything that seemed even tad too uncomfortable for you. As of consequence, there was virtually nothing you wouldn’t let him do, because you trusted him to stop at the first sign of your protest.

Okay. Okay. The utter wanton in his eyes shining through the sincerity was melting your brain. No choice to make.

You nodded, rewarded by a satisfied smirk that would have earned anyone else a smack to their face. But with Steve, there was something dangerously alluring about that instead; that smirk meant paradise aligning with hell awaiting you, whispered of you soon begging him – to stop or to continue, you’d never quite know yourself.

“Well then, remember you promised to listen… and do.”

Little shit, was as far as you got in your thoughts.

Because then he was wrapping a firm arm around your leg on the bed and pushing your panties aside and after a few teasingly careful licks, he began his feast like a starved man seated at the royal table.

Your hands found purchase on his hair and the bed, knees nearly buckling under the assault of pleasure, burning through your body like a wildfire. The way his wicked tongue played with you had you gasping his name in need bordering on desperation, chest tight as you were forgetting to breathe, core clenching so soon you couldn’t quite believe it as the tidal wave of bliss washed over you, hips rocking in aftershocks, knees eventually giving out.

It was only for a split second that you worried you might smother Steve or splatter ungracefully on the floor; because Steve had you. He always had you. His supersoldier part undeniable, he caught you, manipulating your body so he could cradle you protectively as you came from your high and literal height, holding you against his chest as you straddled him with seemingly boneless legs.

You were hyperaware of every bit of praise spilling from your lips, whispered to your skin warmly, but you couldn’t form words.

Not until his lips found yours, meeting in a soft kiss spiced with the tang of your essence, the most intimate kiss between lovers. He pushed the hair from your face tenderly, eyes both hungry and soft as if you weren’t soaking his dress pants where your core met his evident arousal and you weren’t both panting as if you had just run a marathon. His hand caressed up and down your spine, over and over, as if to ground you in reality.

A peck to your cheek. To your mouth. Your lips coming back to life at least, pressing to his jaw, to his smile.

“Could stay like this forever,” he whispered, nose trailing along your cheek, leaving a kiss under your ear, drawing a breathless chuckle from you. “With you in my arms, your taste on my lips, head swimming from your sweet perfume and everything that’s you… my wonderful wife… “

Blinking owlishly, you met his gaze as he cradled your cheek, hair a beautiful messy hallo from where you had tried to hold on when he was devouring you. His lips found yours again, a gentle murmur.

“You’re my everything, you know that?”

You did. By god you did. It was impossible not to, even as that fact was but a pure stroke of a miracle. He was your everything too. Your alfa and your omega. Your weakness and your strength. Your love, unshakable foundation even on days when everything including his own hands did shake. Your home, whenever you’d go.

You ran your fingers through his golden locks, expression nothing short of tender, touch nothing short of reverent – as one should be when in face of a miracle.

“And you’re my home,” you whispered back.

Seconds ticked by in soft silence, pleasure still tingling all over your body, but it was the overwhelming love and need in Steve’s gaze that consumed you completely.  

You didn’t dare to blink. You didn’t dare to breathe. You simply watched him living through a moment as precious to him as he was to you, electric tension rising and almost audibly crackling in the air.

And then he was gripping your nape, mouth claiming and devouring, one hand sliding under your bottom to lift you in a display of strength that never failed to make you dizzy and blinded you with desire unmatched despite having just come down from your high. You returned his kiss with the same fervour, hands grasping at his shirt, frantically searching for buttons to undo and then simply tugging hard until the thread gave out and sent the buttons flying, a nip of teeth to your lips accompanied with Steve’s dark chuckle like the sweetest song of victory.

He sat down at the bed with you still straddling him, helping you strip the shirt without your lips ever parting, his hands leaving you but for the fraction of second necessary to get rid of the fabric in your way and then you were both sighing in relief when your palms met the burning skin of his sculptured chest, his wide shoulders, his clenching abs.

“Need you,” you confessed as soon as you got to breathe in, back at his lips the very next second, Steve’s large palm kneading your bottom, hips thrusting into yours and eliciting a wanton moan from you both. “And I want you in my mouth-“

A delicious growl rumbled in is chest, fingers tangled in your hair pulling just a little, tipping your head back to give him access to leave a string of kisses down the column of your throat, the deliberately slow bucks of his hips into yours never ceasing.

“You’re a wicked little thing.”

You chuckled, a cheeky remark on your painfully free lips, the delightful friction between your bodies not nearly enough to sooth your thirst.

“You do say I’m wicked smart. Why this time?”

The nip of teeth on your collarbone and the way his fingers dug into your flesh had you barely stifle a gasp, but his answer was a reward for a work well-done.

“Goddamn you, woman, you know what you do to me, especially that lipstick-”

“I know what it does to you to see it smeared in certain places,” you breathed out, silenced by a bruising kiss to your lips and a light sting on the back of your thigh as Steve pulled at one of the strings of your garter and let it snap against your skin. Your wandering hands reached for his belt, almost tasting the salty tang of him already as you’d get on your knees for him.

“Wicked,” he grunted against your mouth, lifting his hips – with you still on top – to help you strip his pants, “I thought I was giving the orders tonight.”

“Oh you do, Captain,” you assured him, revelling a little too much at the twitch against your core as you blatantly used his title against him. “Just informing you I’m willing.”

“Driving me crazy. Want you to want me just as much, to need me-“

“I do. Need to taste you-”

“Jesus Christ-“ he choked out, releasing you so you could press one last thorough kiss to his mouth and then slide down to your knees, grateful for the soft carpet.

Ridding Steve of the last piece of clothing, you took great care to maintain eye-contact as you stroked him, feather-light, and licked at the tip. The breathy sound resembling your name that left his lips when you wrapped your lips around the head sent a jolt of heat down your spine, hot satisfaction pooling in your belly and making your heart thunder in your chest.

Nothing had ever made you feel more powerful and treasured than Steve looking at you with half-lidded eyes, groaning as you took him deeper and bobbed your head, closing your lips tight around him as you pulled back to smear as much of the sinful red colour down his cock, his hands gripping the sheets so hard the fabric might tear.

God, he was gorgeous; a wrecked angel-like figure made for worship and sin, they only deity you needed, sculpted to divine perfection.

His fingers tangled gently at your hair, only to twitch repeatedly as he was holding back the strength he wanted to use keep you right there, always making you want to swallow around him harder to make him lose that control; the curses, the deliciously prolonged fuuuck tasting like a victory, the fuck-- sweetheart, you feel like heaven a blessing that stirred pure lust deep within your core.

He was done for almost too soon; a little work, a hint of a sinful smile in the corner of your lips as you watched him lose layer after layer of control to reveal the primal drive that made him just as human as any. Once your hands joining your efforts, he was spilling down your throat, eyes squeezed shut in an image of absolute heavenly ruin.

You waited for him to flutter his eyes open; not having even gone soft in your mouth, you dragged your lips down his length to leave the last red and glossy mark, the string of blasphemy leaving his mouth telling you he didn’t give a damn thing about your tear-smeared mascara but cared a whole lot about the prettily ruined lipstick. When you licked your lips as if he had just given you your favourite treat, he practically dragged you back to his lap, seemingly torn between proposing all over again and lamenting you were going to be his death.

Yet, he kissed you tenderly like a precious porcelain doll and reached for the wet wipe in the nightstand drawer to gently clean the black smears down your cheek. The smudged lipstick he indulgently wiped with his thumb before his mouth slanted over yours again, the thrumming passion between you growing louder again; you were dripping down your thighs from the appreciative gaze and the taste of him alone and Steve was rarely ever sated with climaxing just once. Especially after a week apart.

With his most acute hunger sated, however, he took time to admire the view again, even with your shoes finally discarded, indulging in the delicate lace instead, in the warmth of your body, in your perfume and the scent of your skin. His voice dropped low in volume, intimate whispers of how he wanted to see you take him deep and make you his, fingers gently stretching you to accommodate his impressive size before he led you to sink down on his length at last, filling you up so deliciously and completely.

With bodies stilled, the time seemed to slow down too. Eyes blown wide and dark, but with a sweet curl to your lips as you tasted each other over and over again, you both revelled in the sensation of being connected; brushes of fingertips, kisses to your lips, to your neck, to your sternum and breasts; to his chest, to his shoulders, to his kiss-swollen lips, wherever you could reach.

“I missed you, sweetheart,” he confessed between encounters of lips, the softest voice with a husky aftertaste. “Missed this. Never going to another conference again.”

You almost chuckled at the unrealistic prospect, touched all the same.

“Missed you more… might go to a conference every once in a while. For science.”

Steve grunted in protest, palms framing your face as he observed with a slightly amused pout to his kiss-swollen lips.

“Hm. Sounds like your argument contradicts your hypothesis there, Doc.”

This time, you did chuckle a bit, raising an eyebrow even as you caressed his cheek, index finger tapping the pouty lower lip. “Well sue me, I’m a little dazed. I’m allowed. I finally have you for myself after a week, Steve.”

He caught your hand, pressing a kiss to the pad of your finger, something devilish flashing in his eyes.

“That you do. I’m all yours. My smart, beautiful wife…” he coaxed with a kiss, hand landing lightly on your waist, hips thrusting up to encourage you to roll yours. There was no need to do so twice. You rocked your pelvis, jaw falling slack at the delightful sensation. A single movement and pleasure was spreading to every nerve ending, coil in your belly forming; Steve responded in kind, urging you on to keep going and set a pace.

“So good to me, sweetheart… so precious.”

“That’s it. So damn gorgeous like that--- look at me, love.”

“Making me feel so good… love having you like this. Never gonna get enough of this, of you…”

Golden. You felt so damn golden under his touch, from inside out, caressed with every single appreciative word spilling from his lips so naturally.

God, you had needed that. You needed that more than you had realized, having pushed down all the unpleasant interactions that had piled up during the week, interactions that made you feel everything but good, precious, brilliant or gorgeous. With every word, Steve poured his faith and love into the cracks in your being and healed them, silencing every doubt, grounding you so profoundly in the pleasure you shared that every single cell in your body ignited with something divine. The coil in your belly was strung so tight you almost felt yourself falling, if you’d only--- if he’d-

“Steve, please, I need-“

“I know what you need, love. I’ve got you.”

Your climax erupted through your body with Steve’s mouth wrapped around your nipple, his dextrous fingers digging into your ass and playing with your clit.

He found his release as he kneeled behind you and caged you to his front, one hand around your throat to angle your head for a sloppy kiss, the other spread wide over your lower belly, sneaky fingertips having coaxed another Earth-shattering orgasm from you.

Somewhere along the way, your lacy attire had ended up in shreds where Steve pulled a little too hard; the remnants of garter belt and stockings were carefully stripped by Steve’s tender fingers as he cleaned you up with a warm cloth before covering you with several kisses and only then with the comforter.

He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you to his side and simply holding you as close as humanly possible, living and revelling in the moment just until his stomach growled.

After a semi-serious joke about taking you as a dessert for the second time, you lazily ordered take-out for three since you had worked up an appetite, moving to the couch. A movie in the background, Steve shared some of the highlights and escapades of the past few days from the conference and DC – as much as he could anyway. In return, you shared your own – as much as you could anyway. When in each other’s embrace, the trouble seemed far away; and what had felt like a path to the next Armageddon suddenly appeared considerably more manageable.

You were practically asleep, half-sprawled over Steve’s chest, when he pressed another kiss to your scalp, this time lingering.

“I love you… and thank you. That truly was a nice welcome home,” he said, bringing a ghost of a tired smile to your lips.

“It’s our home, Steve… You should always feel welcome. Loved.”

“And I do. Coming home to you is the most precious thing,” he mused, caressing your hair when you snuggled impossibly closer to him, inhaling the comforting scent of all that was him. “But you walking the extra mile… that truly makes me the luckiest guy in the universe.”

You hummed, his words warming you more thoroughly than his body and the blanket combined. You pressed a kiss to his sternum over his sleepshirt.

“And I’m the luckiest woman. I love you, Steeeve… I’m sorry-”

His chest shook under your cheek softly as your confession turned into a yawn, but he took it as a sign. He half-carried you to the bathroom and carried you entirely by the time you were done with your nighttime routine.

You murmured another love you, sleep well as you laid your head on the pillow, cradled in Steve’s protective embrace, his words reaching your ears from a terrible, terrible distance, but tasted just as sweet as ever.

“I will, love. I most definitely will.”

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

Aren't they just sweet? 🥺 Happy belated birthday, Stevie 💕 I hope you enjoyed - feedback is always welcomed💕

Prompts, as promised:

Pouncing on your partner as soon as they arrive home from a trip away

“My favourite thing in the world is being here with you.”

Kinks: praise, soft!dom, oral

Now if you'll excuse me, I'll go bath in holy water and pray to my muse that she'll let me write longfic too 🤭

[physalian]

“How do I know if my story needs work or if I’m just being hard on myself?”

As I sit here accepting the fact that at 70k words into Eternal Night’s sequel while waiting for my editor for Eternal Night itself, that I have made an error in my plot.

Disclaimer: This is not universal and the writing experience is incredibly diverse. Figuring this out also takes some time and building up your self-confidence as an author so you can learn to separate “this is awful (when it’s not)” and “this is ok (but it can be better)” and “this isn’t working (but it is salvageable).”

—

When I wrote my first novel (unpublished, sadly), years ago, I would receive feedback all over the chapters and physically have to open other windows to block off parts of the screen on my laptop to slow-drip the feedback because I couldn’t handle constructive criticism all at once. I had my betas color-code their commentary so I could see before I read any of it that it wasn’t all negative. It took me thrice as long as it does today to get through a beta’s feedback because I got so nervous and anxious about what they would say.

The main thing I learned was this: They’re usually right, when it’s not just being mean (and even then, it’s rarely flat out mean), and that whatever criticisms they have of my characters and plot choices is not criticism of myself.

It did take time.

But now I can get feedback from betas and even when I hear “I’d DNF this shit right now unless you delete this,” I take a step back, examine if this one little detail is really that important, and fix it. No emotional turmoil and panic attack needed. I can also hear “I didn’t like it” without heartbreak. Can’t please everyone.

The only time I freak out is when I'm told "this won't need massive edits" followed up by, in the manuscript, "I'd DNF this shit right now". Which happened. And did not, in fact, require a massive rewrite to fix.

So.

What might be some issues with your story and why it “isn’t working”.

1. Your protagonist is not active enough in the story

You’ve picked your protagonist, but it’s every other character that has more to do, more to say, more choices to make, and they’re just along for the ride, yet you are now anchored to this character’s story because they’re the protagonist. You can either swap focus characters, or rework your story to give them more agency. Figure out why this character, above any other, is your hero.

2. Your pacing is too slow

Even if you have a “lazy river” style story where the vibes and marinating in the world is more important than a breakneck plot, slow pacing isn’t just “how fast the story moves” it’s “how clearly is the story told,” meaning if you divert the story to a side quest, or spend too long on something that sure is fluffy or romantic or funny, but it adds nothing to the characters because it’s redundant, doesn’t advance the plot, doesn’t give us more about the world that actually matters to the themes, then you may have lost focus of the story and should consider deleting it, or editing important elements into the scenes so they can pull double-duty and serve a more active purpose.

3. You’ve lost the main argument of your narrative

Sometimes even the best of outlines and the clearest plans derail. Characters don’t cooperate and while we see where it goes, we end up getting hung up on how this one really cool scene or argument or one-liner just has to be in the story, without realizing that doing so sacrifices what you set out to accomplish. Personally I think sticking to your outline with biblical determination doesn’t allow for new ideas during the writing process, but if you find yourself down the line of “how did we get here, this isn’t what I wanted” you can always save the scenes in another document to reuse later, in this WIP or another in the future.

4. You’re spending too long on one element

Even if the thing started out really cool, whether it’s a rich fantasy pit stop for your characters or a conversation two characters must have, sometimes scenes and ideas extend long past their prime. You might have characters stuck in one location for 2 or 3 chapters longer than necessary trying to make it perfect or stuff in all these details or make it overcomplicated, when the rest of the story sits impatiently on the sidelines for them to move on. Figure out the most important reasons for this element to exist, take a step back, and whittle away until the fat is cut.

5. You’ve given a side character too much screentime

New characters are fun and exciting! But they can take over the story when they’re not meant to, robbing agency from your core characters to leave them sitting with nothing to do while the new guy handles everything. You might end up having to drag your core characters along behind them, tossing them lines of dialogue and side tasks to do because you ran out of plot to delegate with one character hogging it all (which is the issue I ran into with the above mentioned WIP). Not talking about a new villain or a new love interest, I mean a supporting character who is supposed to support the main characters.

—

As for figuring out the difference between “this is awful and I’m a bad writer” and “this element isn’t working” try pretending the book was written by somebody else and you’re giving them constructive criticism.

If you can come up with a reason for why it’s not working that doesn’t insult the writer, it’s probably the latter. As in, “This element isn’t working… because it’s gone on too long and the conversation has become cyclical and tiring.” Not “this element isn’t working because it’s bad.”

Why is it bad?

“This conversation is awkward because…. There’s not enough movement between characters and the dialogue is really stiff.”

“This fight scene is bad because….I don’t have enough dynamic action, enough juicy verbs, or full use of the stage I’ve set.”

“This romantic scene is bad because…. It’s taking place at the wrong time in the story. I want to keep it, but this character isn’t ready for it yet, and the vibe is all wrong now because they’re out-of-character.”

“This argument is bad because…. It didn’t have proper build-up and the sudden shouting match is not reflective of their characters. They’re too angry, and it got out of hand quickly. Or I’m not conveying the root of their aggression.”

—

There aren’t very many bad ideas, just bad execution. “Only rational people can think they’re crazy. Crazy people think they’re sane,” applies to writing, too.

I just read a fanfic recently where, for every fight scene, I could tell action was not the writer’s strong suit. They leaned really heavily on a crutch of specific injuries for their characters, the same unusual spot getting hit over and over again, and fights that dragged on for too long being unintentionally stagnant. The rest of the fic was great, though, and while the fights weren’t the best, I understood that the author was trying, and I kept reading for the good stuff. One day they will be better.

In my experience beta reading, it’s the cocky authors who send me an unedited manuscript and tell me to be kind (because they can’t take criticism), that they know it’s perfect they just want an outside opinion (they don’t want the truth, they want what will make them feel good), that they know it’s going to make them a lot of money and everyone will love it (they haven’t dedicated proper time and effort into researching marketing, target audiences, or current trends)—these are the truly bad authors. Not just bad at writing, but bad at taking feedback, are bullies when you point out flaws in their story, and cheap, too.

The best story I have received to date was where the author didn’t preempt with a self-deprecating deluge of “it’s probably terrible you know but here it is anyway” or “this is perfect and I’m super confident you’re going to love it”.

It was something like, “This is my first book and I know it has flaws and I’m nervous but I had a lot of fun doing it”.

And yeah, it needed work, but the bones of something great were there. So give yourself some credit, yeah?

[writingwithcolor]

Characters reconnecting with their ancestral cultures in an interplanetary setting

@pixiedustandpetrichor asked:

Hi! I am writing a novel with three main female characters in an interplanetary setting. They grow up as orphans in an Irish-coded country and as children are mostly exposed to solely that culture, but they leave after becoming adults. Character A is Tuareg-coded, B Mongolian-coded, and C is Germanic-coded. It isn’t central to the story, but I would like them to get in touch with/learn more about their ancestral cultures, especially in terms of religion. A does this by actually visiting the planet her parents came from, but B and C do not. What can I do to depict their relationships with said cultures and their journey to reconnect with them? Would it be realistic for each of them to have different mixed feelings about participating in these cultures and for them to retain some sense of belonging to the culture they grew up in as well? Thank you for your time.

Hello, asker! WWC doesn’t have Tuareg or Mongol mods at the moment, so we're not able to speak to the specifics of cultural and religious reconnection for these particular groups. Still, I want to take this opportunity to provide some general context and elements to consider when writing Tuareg-coded characters, or other characters from groups that have experienced colonization in the real world. My fellow mods will then share thoughts about cultural reconnection in general and with respect to Germanic heritage in particular.

Drawing inspiration from groups that have experienced colonization

As you’re probably aware, the Tuareg are an ethnic group indigenous to North Africa. As with many indigenous groups, they have experienced colonization multiple times over the course of their history. Colonization often leads to the loss or erasure of certain aspects of culture as the colonized people are pressured to conform to the culture of the dominant group. In many cases, it’s near impossible to say what the ancestral culture of a colonized group was prior to colonization.

When coding a fictional culture based on a group that was colonized in the real world, it's important to ask questions about:

Which aspects of culture you're portraying

Where these aspects come from

Whether you're ready to tackle their implications for the world you're building

It’s not necessarily wrong to use elements of coding that draw from cultural aspects influenced by colonization. As I said, it can be very difficult, even impossible, to portray a “pure” culture as it would have been had colonization not occurred–because we simply can’t know what that alternate history would look like, and because so much has been lost or intentionally suppressed that the gaps in our knowledge are too wide to breach. But it’s important to be aware of where these cultural elements are coming from.

Where is your coding coming from and what are the implications?

For example, while the Tuareg today are majoritarily Muslim, this was not the case prior to the Arab conquest of North Africa. Some elements of Tuareg culture today, such as tea ceremonies, are derived from the influence of Arab and Muslim culture and likely did not exist prior to the 20th century. As you’re developing the culture of the Tuareg-coded group in your fictional setting, you have to decide whether to include these elements. There is no right answer–it will depend on what you’re trying to do and why.

Is your setting in our far future, in which case we can assume your Tuareg-coded group is distantly related to today’s Tuareg?

In that case, they will probably have kept many cultural aspects their ancestors acquired through their interactions with other cultures around them–including cultural groups that colonized them. They may–let’s build hopeful worlds!–have reclaimed aspects of their ancestral culture they’d been forced to abandon due to colonization. They may also have acquired new aspects of culture over time. This can be very fun to explore if you have the time and space to do so.

I would recommend speaking with Tuareg people to get a better grasp of how they see their culture evolving over the next however many centuries or millennia, what they wish to see and what seems realistic to them.

Alternatively, maybe your setting is a secondary world unrelated to ours and you only want to draw inspiration from the real-world Tuareg, not represent them exactly. In that case, you need to decide which period of history you’re drawing from, as Tuareg culture is different today from what it was 50 years ago, and different still from 200 years ago or 1000 years ago. You’ll need to research the historical period you’re choosing in order to figure out what was happening at that time and what the cultural influences were. If it’s pre-colonial, you’ll probably want to avoid including cultural elements influenced by colonization from groups that arrived later on.

Finally, if the time period you’re drawing from is post-colonial:

Are you planning to account for the effects of colonization on Tuareg culture?

Will you have an in-world equivalent for the colonization that occurred in real life?

For example, will the Tuareg-coded characters in your world be from a nomadic culture that was forced to become sedentary over the years and lost much of their traditions due to colonial pressure to conform?

Where did this pressure come from in your world–is it different from what happened in ours? If so, how different? And what are the consequences?

Writing about colonization can be quite the baggage to bring into a fictional setting. I’m not saying it can’t be done, but it will certainly require sensitivity and care in portraying it.

In summary: think it through

I’m not saying all this to discourage you, but to point out some of the considerations at play when drawing inspiration from a real-life culture that has experienced colonization. Similar challenges arise for coding based on any other indigenous group in the world.

My advice to you, then, is to first sit down and decide where and when in history your coding is coming from, and what you’re trying to achieve with it. This will help you figure out:

which elements of contemporary Tuareg culture are pertinent to include

How much your coding will be influenced by the Tuareg’s real-life history

To what extent that will inform the rest of the world you’re creating

This, in turn, may help in deciding how to portray your character’s reconnection journey.

Again, I am not Tuareg and this is by no means meant to be an exhaustive list of considerations for writing Tuareg-coded characters, only a few places to start.

If any Tuareg or Amazigh readers would like to chime in with suggestions of their own, please do. As always, please make sure your comments adhere to the WWC code of conduct.

- Niki

Pulling from diaspora and TRA narratives of cultural reconnection

Marika here: This ask plotline could also pull directly from diaspora and TRA narratives of cultural reconnection. Many diaspora and TRA cultural reconnection stories are, in effect, about navigating the difficult process of resuscitating, or renewing ties to culture using limited resources in environments that often lack necessary cultural infrastructure or scaffolding.

See this question here to the Japanese team for suggestions of how to handle such a storyline in a similar sci-fi setting.

More reading: Japanese-coded girl from future

-Marika

Reconnecting with German heritage

Hi, it’s Shira. I’m not sure whether German-Jewish counts as Germanic for the purposes of your post but since German Jews were more assimilated than other Ashkies, Germanness does feel real and relevant to my life (especially because my father worked there for approximately the last decade of his life.) NOTE: when I see “Germanic” vs German I think of cultures from 1500 years ago, not 100-200 years ago, so I can’t help you there, but I’d be surprised as a reader if a character focused on that for reconnection to the exclusion of the 19th century etc.

People in the United States specifically, reconnecting with German heritage, often lean into Bayerischer/Bavarian kitsch, I’ve noticed. Personally, though, what I find most relevant is:

1. The food (although I’ve come to learn that what I grew up eating was closer to veal/chicken scallopini than actual schnitzel because it was drenched in lemon, but I do like the other foods like the potato salad and sweet and sour red cabbage etc.) Your character could try making one of these “ancestral” foods as a way to reconnect?

2. The classical music, because I’m a second generation professional musician – if character C plays an instrument, leaning into that might be meaningful (Beethoven, Bach, Brahms, Mendelssohn, Clara Schumann and her husband Robert, etc.)

3. The nature, especially specifics that I enjoyed during my time there – personally, I loved the bright pink flowers all over the chestnut trees, but there are a lot of choices especially because of the Alps. If C is an artist maybe they can sketch something Germany-related from old photographs they found on the Space Internet?

I think it is VERY realistic for the characters to remain connected to the culture in which they were raised, by the way, whether or not they have positive feelings about it. Culture isn’t an inherited trait. Sure, if they want to completely walk away, they can, but I bet there are still ways it will creep back in without them realizing it simply because it’s really hard to have universal knowledge of the origins of all our quirks. Plus, not everyone feels alienated from their raised-culture just because they’re genetically something else.

P.S. There is also Oktoberfest, which I don’t really get into but is a thing, and beer, which is another point of German cultural pride.

German gentiles, weigh in – y’all have your own stuff, I know! OH YEAH so for German Christians, Christmas “markets” are a whole thing. That’s worth looking up. 

–S

What do you mean by Germanic?

Hello it’s Sci! I had to study German history for my historical fantasy novel set in the late 18th century Holy Roman Empire. I am not sure what is meant by Germanic as that can encompass a variety of things.

Germanic people: from the Classical Period of Roman Empire and early Middle Ages. Similar to Mod Shira, I unfortunately can’t help very much here.

The Germanosphere: regions that spoke German, which includes modern day Germany, Austria/Hungary, Switzerland, Lichtenstein, Belgium, and Luxembourg. I generally define this as the regions captured in the Hapsburg Empire along with Switzerland usually encompassing “Central Europe.”

Modern German national identity (i.e. German): post Napoleon and the Congress of Vienna (> 1815) only including the territory of modern day Germany.*

I ask this because modern German national identity is surprisingly recent since Germany only popped up in 1871 under Otto von Bismarck. Previously, Germany was divided into smaller states and city states as a very decentralized region under the German Confederation and before that, the Holy Roman Empire. Depending on the era, you can see different conflicts and divides. During the early days of the Protestant Reformation started by Martin Luther, the northern and southern German territories generally split along Protestant-Catholic lines. The 18th century saw Austria and Prussia as the foci of global power who warred against each other even though both were part of the Holy Roman Empire.

Other states and city-states like Baden-Wurttemberg or Saxony sometimes had power but it was typically more localized compared to Austria. Post-WW2, you saw the split of Germany into West Germany run under capitalism and East Germany run under communism as a satellite Soviet state leading to more modern cultural divides. Due to heavy decentralization historically, each region had its own character with religious and cultural divides. 

Assuming that the Germanic character is not from the classical period or early Middle Ages but not from the 19th century either, you can include your character reconnecting to classical folklore like that of Krampus (if they’re Christian), German literature and music like the works of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe or Mozart, or German philosophy like Immanuel Kant.

*A major wrinkle: German royals and nobility married into other states and nations frequently with Britain and Russia being notable examples. In Britain, the House of Hanover took over after the Stuart House died without clear direct heirs. When Queen Victoria married the German prince Albert, they celebrated Christmas with a tree and brought the German tradition of a Christmas tree to Britain and the British Empire. Only during World War I did the royal family’s house of Hanover name change from House of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha to the more “English-sounding” Windsor. As a result, the German cultural influence may be even more widespread than we think.

However, without more specific descriptors of what Germanic means in the context of your story, it can be difficult to determine which aspects of German culture your character could reconnect to.

-Mod Sci

[balioc]

Oh, boy! It's Education Theory o'Clock again!

...I have a lot of thoughts on this topic. At some point, when I'm less busy and tired, I should probably try to write them up. Natively, I'm one of the school-is-a-nightmare-prison people, like so many others in this little discourse-sphere -- but I'm married to a middle school teacher, so I regularly encounter both the good arguments from the other side and the facts on the ground, and those things have altered my perspective somewhat.

But I am, in fact, busy and tired. So for now I'll just content myself with saying:

School is an institution that serves many, many, many purposes at the same time. A lot of those purposes are load-bearingly important. (A couple of years ago, I wrote this about college, and...it's double-plus true for primary and secondary schools.) If you don't try to account for all of that stuff in your theory of What School Is and How School Works, you will generate incoherent garbage thoughts. If you have a New Concept for school entailing top-down design that is optimized for a single function (like "increasing test scores" or "causing kids to love learning" or whatever), you'd better have a plan for how you're going to do all the other important things that schools do. And even if you think that some of those things aren't actually important or necessary, you'd better have a plan for dealing with all the people who disagree. Because...

-----

...school, as it exists today, is an inherently political institution. Both in the "soft" sense that everyone has strong opinions about what it's supposed to do and how it's supposed to work, and in the "hard" sense that it is actually controlled by democratically-accountable governments. (This is double-plus true in the US, where it is controlled by local governments, and therefore doesn't even have the protective insulation of a massive bureaucracy.) Everything about the way schools work is a compromise brokered amongst ideologues and self-dealers. Everything about the way schools work involves a lot of decision-makers trying not to get yelled at by the yelliest people around. If you're looking for elegant purpose-driven top-down design, you won't find it. You could probably make a case that any elegant purpose-driven top-down design would be better than the thing we actually have, but getting there would require finding a way to remove the political element.

-----

Most importantly: public schools are (1) compulsory, (2) universal, and (3) for children. [People who are legally children, anyway, whether or not they are actual children in whatever sense matters to you.]

This means that they cannot let students leave, and they have to keep control of all the students that they aren't allowing to leave.

In the most literal not-a-judgment-but-a-fact sense, they are indeed prisons. They are coercively keeping people inside. They have to do that thing, as per their most fundamental mandate within the current system. The alternatives involve letting kids run around unsupervised, and/or failing to give some kids even the most cursory kind of education, and those things are absolute non-starters under present conditions.

All the normal institutions-for-adults operate on the principle of -- If you really don't want to be here, you can leave, and deal with whatever consequences there may be for leaving. This is not an option for schools, and that fact accounts for...everything.

Classroom structure is built around the necessity of keeping the most-hostile, least-engaged student in the class present and supervised, and then trying to prevent him from disrupting things for everyone else. Because the obvious solution that any other institution would use -- "just cut him loose, he doesn't want to be here and we don't want him here" -- isn't available.

(I once talked to my wife about the rationed bathroom access thing, which is one of the most flagrant nightmare-prison aspects of the school experience. Her response was, "If you let kids use the bathroom whenever they want, as much as they want, then you don't have mandatory universal education anymore. Some of them will never return to the classroom, because they don't want to be there." Which is...obviously true.)

So you have something that replicates many of the features of prison, because it has to accomplish the same basic tasks that prison accomplishes. Yay, Foucault.

[norraexploradora]

The Tragedy of the CX Troopers and the Missed Opportunity to Teach Us All an Important Lesson

A deeper look into how the CX-Troopers were handled in the Bad Batch and the narrative surrounding them that unfortunately got dropped in season 3

I want to start off by applauding the Bad Batch for the brave attempt to tackle dark topics throughout the series and presenting them in a way that is appropriate for families to watch and discuss with their children. Most of series is successful in being just dark enough to raise tension but to also keep things suitable for a child’s first glimpse into the harsh realities of life. However there still a few places that missed the mark.

The one I wish to cover today is the inconsistent narrative surrounding the CX-Troopers. I’m not here to say it was bad writing per se, but if a dark topic is discussed in a family oriented tv series, it is best to commit adequate time to truly flesh it out so the messaging is clear. Subjective is great in a mature series like Andor, but kids lack the life experience required to read between the lines.

And yes, exposition does make dialogue sound clunky at times, but there is a reason why most cartoons in the 80s had the kind of “The more you know” lesson after each episode. The Bad Batch was no different. Tech’s speech in the Crossing and his encouragement to Omega at the end of Retrieval are perfect examples of this.

In my opinion, there was an opportunity for an important lesson to be learned from the CX Troopers that was brought up but left unfinished. These shadow operatives could have been a way to show the viewer how anyone can be “brainwashed” either by force or by clever manipulation.

One operative in season 2 called himself a “Believer” which seems to evoke he was forcibly submerged into a cult-like indoctrination. It’s also why I prefer to use the phrase “coercive persuasion” or “forced persuasion” instead of brainwashing as they are a more accurate description of the process that has been historically implemented by governments, cults, and captors in order to make good people believe in or do horrible things.

Dr. Hemlock’s use of forced persuasion on select clones to turn them into CX-Troopers is a interesting look into the real world and well-documented cases of brainwashing within fascist regimes; especially in wartime settings. It is common and disturbing tactic implemented in moments of great despair and something that deserves more focus within the narrative if it is to be brought up as a major plot point.

Most of the brainwashing aspects in the Bad Batch were rapidly glossed over probably due to time and budget constraints, and not so much by the dark and disturbing imagery. One can easily get the “idea across” without showing it explicitly. (Like Crosshair having his hand chopped off. We didn’t see it but yeah, we get the gist).

I will say however, that despite the mystery surrounding brainwashing in the CX-Program, one of the more poignant moments was Captain Rex telling a caught CX Trooper that he was still their brother and that they would help him. It was a beautiful show of compassion and introduced new plot element; that the soldiers who undergo forced persuasion could possibly be reached or even saved.

It’s not a stretch to believe that the Bad Batch would take this route given the series had built up “we don’t leave our own behind” as one of the main themes. It would also be safe to say that saving fictional heroes from brainwashing gives us hope that real life survivors can recover from such trauma.

It was one of the many reasons fans were led to believe that the mysterious CX-2 operative could have been Tech or Cody. The focus on this particular shadow operative gave rise to speculation that he was different, that there was something coming to shed light or hope that a lost soldier could be found and rescued; something that would make sense of it were a character we already cared greatly about.

Alas, CX-2 was kept a mystery box that gave no insight to the tragic nature of his existence nor gave us a reason to mourn his death. That is why the battle between the Bad Batch and Hemlock’s Batch of secret operatives felt rushed and incomplete to some viewers. There wasn’t proper time for the story to breathe beyond “One Batch is good, the other Batch is bad.”

There were simply too many dropped narratives throughout the final season that reduced the whole CX Trooper plot to a video game-esque final boss battle. Don’t get me wrong, it was an amazing fight, beautifully animated, terrifying, and intense; but nevertheless, it felt hollow because the build-up went nowhere.

At that’s exactly where the narrative around the tragic nature of brainwashing got lost.

It’s important for you to know that I’m not saying the Bad Batch killing these operatives in the final fight was wrong. I’m also not saying that they should have tried to reach out to save these Shadow Operatives in the middle of of a life and death situation. It’s just unfortunate that we were never given a reason to feel anything other than relief that the CX-Troopers were killed.

And yes, this is a show about the Bad Batch and not brainwashed mystery troopers, but I stress, the writing set up these characters and introduced a very dark and disturbing concept to young viewers. With more time and effort spent on the narrative, it could have been an important lesson that applies to real life.

Coercive Persuasion is not a fantasy concept. It is very very real. Sleep deprivation, isolation, abuse, constant interrogation, drugging, shame, and humiliation, are all various means to break down a person’s will and forcibly persuade them into believing anything.

One can simply look to how many people get forced into false confessions by unethical police practices, or those who end up committing atrocities due to cult leader manipulation. A more common and less obvious example is social media outlets designed to spin conspiracy theories; coercing people into believing anything they want, like like the Earth is flat and microchips were put in Covid vaccines. By preying upon people’s anger and fear, these sites cultivate distrust and can lead one to extremist thinking.

This is real world, dark and scary stuff that needs to be handled with serious care and consideration of bringing it into an animated Star Wars series.

So given more time and budget, how could this lesson be shown through the story of the Bad Batch? How could these brainwashed operatives been presented in a way to that is scary but still gives younger audiences a way to sympathize with them?

Shedding more light on a terrifying process would remind us the CX-Troopers are victims and despite their terrifying nature, they still deserve our compassion and empathy. So giving the operatives more of a backstory is a good start.

For Example:

Showing the transformation of at least one of these operatives before the final battle would provide more emotional impact after their demise. Having kids clearly, and not subjectively, understand that under those cool costumes there used to be good men is such an important lesson. It reinforces the narrative that the real villains aren’t these soldiers but the regime that warped their minds and forced them into mindless monsters.

To be clear, this a a family series and I am in no way implying that a clear visual of lengthy torture would be acceptable. There are already hints through Crosshair’s PTSD and that is enough to get the idea across.

My suggestion would have been to place the sniper clone who eventually became CX-2 in the cell next to Crosshair while on Tantis. The viewer gradually sees these two men go back and forth to their cells after these conditioning sessions and the witness bond that forms between them. Crosshair is forced to see CX-2’s identity slip more and more away after each session until he is no longer the person he once was. The sadness and loss of seeing this man lose his identity not only leaves a mark on Crosshair, but by the viewer as well.

The scene of the shadow operative watching Crosshair on Tantiss and the one shadow operative calling him “brother” would have made more sense in retrospect. In addition, having an emotional and clear connection between Crosshair and the man who became CX-2, would have given their epic fight on top of the waterfall more emotional weight. CX-2’s line “You could have been one of us. You made the wrong choice” would be more resonant to the viewer. CX-2 would literally be a sniper shadow operative that Crosshair could have become verses a subjective mystery box.

To further this narrative and Crosshair’s character arc, making the above change to the story could have also opened the door to Crosshair eventually saving this lost brother. Omega’s determination to never give up on Crosshair could have resulted in Crosshair reaching out to CX-2 and eventually getting through to him before the final battle. It would have been so emotional and fulfilling.

And yet…as lovely as that would have been, I realize the above scenario would require at least one additional episode; which the animation team probably didn’t have the luxury or the budget to do. So I’ll offer another solution:

Adding a few minutes here and there during season 2 and the beginning of season 3 dedicated to Hemlock’s treatment to the CX-Troopers and other Clone prisoners would give the viewer a clearer picture into the nature of the CX Program. The result would be that the feeling of triumph wouldn’t be seeing the shadow operatives lying dead on the floor but knowing that the experimentation on the clones at Tantiss by Dr. Hemlock was finally over.

So in conclusion:

It’s a shame that the shadow operatives were left a mystery and simply became foils and metaphors. The fight at the end was nothing more than the Batch having to kill or be killed and it failed to showcase a serious topic with less black and white thinking.

With more time, the writers could have explored the tragedy of forced coercion. Discussing a difficult subject in a manner fit for young audiences could leave them with awareness when they are faced with a similar real world scenario.

The CX-Trooper plot could have also been a good way for a parent to discuss what coercive persuasion does to people; especially in today’s world where social media is rife with bad people luring in youth and manipulating their anger and fear into extremist thinking.

Think about it.

How does someone get so isolated that they fall prey to extremism and they end up committing acts of terrorism? How does one get indoctrinated into a cult and become so brainwashed that they take their own lives or the lives of others at the behest of a cult leader? How would an innocent person sign a confession of a crime they didn’t commit?

These are all good questions that people often ask after horrendous real life events and can regularly be seen on the daily news and social media. Having a fictional metaphor for scary real world issues that children could easily understand would be exactly the kind of thing Star Wars was created for. It was also created to give children and all of us hope.

So in the end, the lesson should have been that people who fall victim to brainwashing aren’t weak or gullible. They have been put through extreme duress and put through unethical means of isolation and manipulation.

And if there is hope for even one of the CX-Troopers to be saved, we as a society should have empathy and try to reach out to those in our own lives who have been a victim of coercive persuasion before writing them off.

Disclaimer:

One thing I’ve learned in life is that platforms like Twitter are not places for deep discussions and good faith arguments. You have a set number of letters to get your ideas across and interpreting the meaning or tone always leads to misunderstandings.

That is why I’m coming to to Tumblr to discuss my deep dives into season 3 of the Bad Batch. I am the type of person who doesn’t like angry, confrontational sparring over ideas.

My goal is to shed light on a different perspective; not to make anyone agree with me, but just to understand that we can all watch the same show and interpret things differently due to our own life experiences. By explaining my viewpoints, I’m showing you into my thought process. You are certainly free to disagree but I’m not trying to change your feelings on the matter, nor do I wish for anyone to forcibly change mine.

We can all exist in the same space and I encourage anyone who has a different view to write an analysis of their own instead of arguing in anyone’s comment section. Be kind and respectful and most of all, remember this is fiction and subjective interpretation. There are so many things to be really angry about in the world and Star Wars is the least of our worries.

Cheers and as always, May the Force be with you!

[torialefay]

Moon in Sagittarius 🚩🚩

toxic-ish!minho x fem!reader angst; (based on astrology) 🔞

✨ synopsis: your boyfriend minho doesn’t do well with being told no. he is objectively toxic, but eventually becomes less terrible.

✨ word count: ~2k

✨ 2nd part in my Minho as Your Boyfriend Astrology Series (check my masterlist for full series)! together, let’s take a look into minho’s natal chart to see what type of boyfriend he would be!

✨ i will give a brief synopsis of what each chart placement means throughout the series (for all my non-astrology friends out there <3) and how that would affect lee know in a relationship

✨ author’s notes:

(1) i do brief compatibility readings w/ skz members! if interested, send your natal chart to my inbox, as well as which member you’d like me to read for OR if i think there is one member best suited to you <3 (i am verrrrry much behind on these, but feel free to send them. may take a few weeks)

(2) the aspects in this reading are based solely on my opinions and interpretations! nothing about a person is set in stone simply because of astrology. please don’t use anything i say as canon :)

✨warnings: toxic minho, slightly suggestive at the end

Moon in Sagittarius:

• The Moon is the ruler of emotions. It is also who you could feel yourself to be, if all was stripped from you. Many people relate it to the “psyche” or the unconscious. It represents the parts of ourselves that are most fundamental, that we may not even understand. It also reflects our “baseline” energy that we radiate while sitting quietly, being content with our own company. It is the part of ourselves that we really want to be SEEN and understood, even if we do not see or understand it ourselves.

• Sagittarius is the mutable fire sign. They are passionate people who are deeply intrigued by the world around them. They are known for needing a sense of freedom and individuality. They do not like to be tied down. In the same regard, they value exploration, adventure, and meeting new people. They see others as unique individuals and can likely meet them wherever they are at emotionally. Sagittarius people are quick thinkers, witty, and fun-loving.

• Long story short: Moon in Sagittarius people can often have light-hearted, often shifting emotions. They do not like to feel like they are pinned down to any one place. They do not like being told what to do. They will, however, bring a fun element to any time of relationship- platonic or romantic. They are fiercely loyal and passionate about those they love. They do not always feel comfortable with their emotions, so they tend to be flighty and try to run away from this. This is not a great coping mechanism and can lead to a lot of problems in expressing themselves emotionally and what they need from someone else.

As your boyfriend:

• Minho takes you on the most fun, most elaborate dates ever. He’d always find cool new things to do. And of course, he’d want to take his favorite person with him.

• He loves going home with you to meet your parents and learn more about where you grew up. He may have a nature that doesn’t come across this way, but he would inherently love getting to understand you better and see new places.

• He wants to travel with you!!! He will take you literally anywhere you want to go. And when you do, it’s just your own little world. Just the two of you.

• You have the most intellectual conversations ever. He has a lot of abstract ideas about life, and he isn’t afraid to talk to you about them. He likes to know the way you think about it too.

• You have a core group of friends that you hang out with as a couple. It’s not too big of a group, but getting together with them and having a night to cut loose is super important to him. And he loves the fact that he gets to do it with you.

• Friday night, you started to get excited as you heard the keys jingle in the lock of your shared apartment with Minho.

• Today had been a really tough week at work, and all you wanted to do was have a nice relaxing weekend with your boyfriend to decompress.

• Well, if we’re being honest, you felt like you’d crumble away to nothing if you didn’t get it. The stress was that bad.

• “Hi jagi,” Minho greeted you as he came through the hallway to the living room where you were sitting.

• “Hey honey! Please come sit with me. I need to rant about my day,” you pouted.

• He pulled a wide smirk across his face. “Well now you sound like me,” he teased.

• He walked over to the couch and plopped down next to you, letting his hand rest on your thigh.

• “Okay, what’s going on?” he asked.

• “So you know how I told you about the girl I went to high school with who just started at work? The one that’s a bitch?”

• Minho laughed. “You think everyone you work with is a bitch.”

• “You do too,” you stared at him.

• “I do not! Jisung is alright,” he smirked again, knowing that one would get an eye roll out of you… And it did.

• “Anywayssss, that girl. I’m already overwhelmed with stuff I have to get done to meet my deadline at the end of this month, and then she strolls up asking if I can help her with all of her shit too. Knowing damn well how busy I am. I see her over there laughing her ass off on the phone all day long. If she’d stop, then maybe she’d get something done. And THEN, after I told her I couldn’t because I had a bunch to work through as well, apparently she went to one of the main managers and complained that I wasn’t a good co-worker. Saying that apparently I should ‘give her a hand since she’s new’… I mean who goes to a manager with that shit and doesn’t even do a damn thing all day? All she does is gossip and talk shit. So NOW, I have a meeting with our manager Monday morning to talk about it, AND she’s spreading this all around that ‘I’m so horrible to her.’ Like genuinely, the only thing keeping me sane right now was knowing that I was coming home to you.”

• “Aww honey, I’m sorry.” Minho took your hand in his and brought it up to his mouth to plant a kiss on the back of it. “I can cook or we can order some food in and have a good night together. Whatever you want to do tonight. Just let me know what you want.”

• “I don’t want you to have to cook. I really just want you here with me. Maybe we could order some take out and then do a movie? I’m just super drained. Maybe tomorrow we could do something more fun.”

• “Tomorrow? I have plans with the boys. Felix, Jeongin, and I planned a camping trip for the weekend. It sounded like fun. But whatever you want to do tonight, we’ll do.”

• You shot up off the back of the seat. Surely you heard him wrong.

• “You’re doing what tomorrow?”

• “Going camping with Felix and I.N…”

• “Well, it would have been nice if you’d talked to me about that sooner… Or, I don’t know, maybe have just asked?”

• “Asked what? Asked if it was okay?” Minho scoffed.

• “Well, yeah?” you replied, furrowing your brows in confusion and frustration. The fuck is he being like this?

• “Sorry, I didn’t know I needed to ask for your permission to hang out with my friends,” he said sarcastically.

• “It’s not ‘asking for my permission.’ I’m just asking you to check in with me first- to talk about it...- is that so awful?”

• “I mean I would say that telling me that I either am allowed or aren’t allowed to see my friends is pretty awful. I’m an adult, y/n. You’re not my fucking parent.”

• Your blood was boiling at this point. The last thing you wanted to do was to “parent” him. But goddamn, wouldn’t it be nice for him to just see if maybe you needed him for the weekend? Or maybe if there was something he forgot was going on? Or to just let you KNOW about it? Jesus fucking Christ, here we go again.

• “I’m not trying to ‘parent’ you. I’m not trying to tell you what to do. I’m just asking that you COMMUNICATE with me what you want to do so that I know in advance. This is the second time this month alone that you've done this… And to be honest, I really don’t want you going.”

• “Here it is,” Minho rolled his eyes with an annoyed smile. “You always do this. The second I mention wanting to spend time with the boys, you’re suddenly all disapproving,” he let out a strained, sarcastic chuckle before clearing his throat. “I’m sorry if you ‘don’t want me going’, but you don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do.”

• Minho let out a deep breath before putting his hands on his knees and using the pressure to pull himself to standing. “I’m going tomorrow. Let me know I guess if you want to spend time with me tonight.” He looked down at you before walking away to the bedroom.

• And then, the house went quiet. For a long time.

• At that point, you’d decided to just give up. Your boyfriend was a conceited asshole and there was nothing you could do about it. You were upset, but you knew that crying wouldn’t help. After all of this shit, you just wanted to sleep.

• Problem: Minho was in the bedroom. You were too exhausted to fight anymore, now not even hungry to think about dinner. Instead, you just balled yourself up on the couch and went to sleep with a resentful heart.

• An hour later, Minho came creeping out of the bedroom to find you lying peacefully on the couch. He bent down next to you.

• “Jagi,” he whispered, brushing his hand along your shoulder.

• “Jagi,” he said again, a bit louder this time. You stirred a little bit.

• “Honey, please wake up. I need to talk to you,” he said as he saw your eyes slowly open, a confused look coming over your face.

• You took your time to sit upright. Another conversation about his little "boy’s trip" was the last thing you wanted right now.

• “What is it?” you mumbled grumpily.

• “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I did earlier.”

• You didn’t say anything back. I mean, what could you say? It was the truth.

• “And I’m going to work on that. To work on talking to you about things better, I mean. Maybe I can have a hard time doing that sometimes.” He never would admit when he was wrong. But this was a start.

• You just looked at him, trying to give him a facial expression for him to go on. You weren’t satisfied yet.

• “And I decided I’m going to stay home with you instead. You need me more than the boys do.”

• “Okay, you don’t have to do that, Min. You can still go, but I just needed you to understand where I was coming from.”

• “And I do understand now. That’s why I’m staying with you. I made up my mind. That’s what I want to do,” he said with a proud smile.

• You let out a soft chuckle. “You’re always gonna do whatever you wanna do, huh?” you joked. You finally flashed him a smile. The first smile you’d had all night.

• He just looked at you with a grin, giving a little bit of side eye. “If that’s true, then what if I wanna do you?”

• You tried to tease him by pushing him away, giggling a little in the process.

• “You better cut it out,” he said, pulling himself back to you until he was hovering right in front of your face. “I get to do whatever I want, remember?” He smiled as he inched his lips closer, but stopped himself right before letting them touch yours. “I made my mind up. I’m gonna do you. Whatever I say goes, Jagi.”

———————————————————————

✨ author’s note: moon in sag has a lot of wonderful aspects as well, i just chose to write on the more angsty side of things :)

✨ if you enjoyed, please consider liking, commenting, and/or re-blogging <3

[dog-rose]

Witchcraft isn't Secular

Recently, I started thinking about which ten books I would recommend to someone who wants to research witchcraft as a starting point. I thought about books that have been essential to the history and practice of witchcraft in the last century to the historical spells and views of the past. 

I realised very quickly that almost all of them have a religious slant, and by recommending them I would get a lot of replies insisting I was conflating paganism with witchcraft. This led me into a rabbit hole of research and ponderings about the fact that for most of history witchcraft in Europe, and in its many forms of folk magic across the world, has been inseparable from religious belief. 

Witchcraft and folk magic has been intangibly touched by the religious ecosystem it was born from. From the earliest of untraceable magical practises, to cunning folk in the UK and saintly prayers melting together with old wives tales, to the druidic and secret society revival of the 30s, to Wicca, Feri and others in the 50s and up until today. Every significant historical voice talking about witchcraft has been tinged with christian, jewish, pagan, even buddhist and multiple other  influences. 

The concept of witchcraft being a completely secular practice is a modern one. And whilst it's an important concept and one that I agree with and partake in, we have to acknowledge one of the reasons why it has become so prevalent is due to marketing from the nineties onwards. 

New age books about finding your inner goddess, mini books of love spells and the saturation of wicca 101 books all rely on the idea of witchcraft being a harmless, secular practice which won’t interfere with your other spiritual values and beliefs.

There are likely thousands upon thousands of Christians and agnostic people in the English speaking world who play with astrology, angel cards and crystals, who are happy to enjoy these practices whilst keeping it separate from their faith or lack thereof. Therefore denying witchcraft's many connections to religion sterilises it and hides its many contrasting facets.

My last thirteen years or so of hanging about witchblr and paganblr don’t make me an all knowing elder god on this topic. I can say the insistence of witchcraft being totally secular can be fierce. Its something I would doggedly insist upon in my early years as a witch, parroting what I had learnt from listening and reading from those more experienced than myself.

Witchcraft isn't a practise divorced from religion. It can be practised without religious elements, but it is not wholly secular.

Seminal texts that have directly guided philosophy and practice of witches all read with the assumption is that witchcraft is its own spirituality. One that clings like a vine to the trees of various other faiths rather than its own practice devoid of devotion or faith. Most British spells from centuries past will make reference to Saints, Jesus or Mary. Contemporary eclectic spells ("insert relevant god here") aren't a modern phenomenon.

I remember hesitating to recommend Hedge Witch by Rae Beth because I believed the religious elements in it would put off anyone who came to witchcraft due to its secularity, when it has some of the most beautiful and profound advice and wisdom on contemporary magic.

So it goes with Starhawk; outside of tumblr she’s still highly regarded and her work was a keystone in my dissertation on witchcraft and paganism. Within tumblr she’s a dirty word and her entire body of work is dismissed due to her mythologising of the past (and of course nine million dead witches and probably a boat load of stuff I have forgotten, which I don’t blame anyone for being put off by.)

Obviously I am not going to die on the hill of Starhawk, she's one of many examples. I think for anyone wanting to research witchcraft you’re putting a huge barrier on your own learning if you avoid spirituality and religion like the plague. Because Witchcraft budded from the rituals and rites of religions.

My point isn’t to say secular witches are doing it wrong, of course not. But ignoring witchcraft’s roots as a practice which thrives alongside and through religious beliefs hurts your understanding and appreciation of its complexities.

anyway, that post of ten books will come out in the near future but I had to get this shit off my chest.

[dyemelikeasunset]

Hello sorry to bother but today I went through the mor and dom tag and I can’t help but notice how good you are at designing tattoos! Both for Dylan and Mor, there’s just so much detail there!

I was wondering if you have any tips on your process for designing them? I have a lot of ocs I think would look good with some but just don’t know how to go abt it. Love your art and again sorry for bothering and have a good day!! :]

Oh thank you so much!!

I've had experience designing tattoos for friends and commissioners before, so I think that helps me a lot. But here's some advice off the top of my head:

Research tattoo styles! There are so many types out there, from blackout tats, to classic nautical styles, watercolor, quotes and number tattoos etc. the world of tattoos is HUGE and there are constantly new styles being created by artists. Finding the specific style that fits your character is really helpful

Understand the tattooing process. This is important if you want your ocs' tats to look more realistic. Everything from pain threshold and placement, to how much certain colors or styles need upkeep, to how realistic specific details would be on specific areas of the body-- these can help a lot with choosing design elements as well as learning where to put the tattoos on the character's body. (My biggest advice for this on the drawing/design side: always prioritize the black ink first! Figure out areas where you can have the negative space/underlying skin be part of the design)

Placement, then design! I think of tattoos for OCs in two steps: 1) where and 2) what. I usually figure out placement first, and draw blocks of color on the body parts I want tattooed. Then I'll isolate the shapes and work on each design until I'm satisfied. As you've seen in my characters, I often make a tattoo sheet for them (which I'll copy and paste onto them as needed)

Personality! For characters, it really comes down to what the tattoos say about them. This doesn't necessarily mean all the tats need to be loaded with meaning, bc there are definitely people who get things for fun or for cheap. It's all about reflecting what your character is all about: are they the type to get really meaningful tattoos and only have a couple that are very symbolic for them? Are they the type to wanna be covered head to toe? Maybe to a character like that, each tattoo meaning isn't as important as filling in the space! Maybe it's a character with one really important tattoo but a lot of other random ones. Does one character have to have them in discreet areas for work? Tats that do mean something to your OC will probably say something important about them, while the visual style of the casual tattoos will say a lot about their style or fashion sense

[ladyiristheenchantress]

Working with Water

Welcome to the first part of my elemental series! Today we will explore some aspects of working with water like offerings, devotional activities, common lessons, aspects, and more! With all that said lets get started!

To preface: I am a devotee to water itself, I am a west witch practioner which means I work within the domain of water, the past, divination, and psyche! I also am a general elemental practioner and have experience working with all of the elements and their aspects!

What is working with water like?

The verified gnosis depends on what pantheon or historical significance we are looking at, however some things are constant! Water is fluid, represents motion and an unbridled force, but people can work with aspects of water! Water doesnt have a gender (neither do any of the elements) so asking during a working relationship is a great way to bond! Some people use she, he, they, and anything inbetween mainly because there are a lot of dynamics world wide!

In general, Water is primordial, being one of the first elements on the planet to house life as the primordial soup. In general her energy carries this! It has many aspects, from ocean, abyss, stream, river, and more, and spirits/traditions change depending on where you are looking! It mainly has to do with formations on the earth and how water presents to you!

Some people who work with more general bodies like streams, rivers, and lakes have a more relaxed time, learning more about how to go with the flow, tackle divination, and working with aspects of transcendence as many bodies of waters were considered to be portals. When it comes to larger and deeper bodies of water like ocean, abyss, and the primordial soup you will learn lessons more about the human condition, shadow work, and taking on the past.

Some things to note, waters personality is not set in stone, however elements are not omnipotent or omnipresent because they physically exist, its best to call on the energies of the elements before attempting to interact, and this also means they wont be around you all the time. Also, do not be suprised if an element isnt kind to you from the start. In a lot of cultures, elements dislike what we are doing to our planet and in general water may mention the plastic problem and pollution and encourage you to clean up our lands! Its important to remember that to the elements we are simply animals like any other bear, bird, or deer! Remember that you can learn a lot from a distance, so dont be offended if water would rather have you observe nature rather than directly give you answers via divination. UPG: In my experience water tends to be a portal, it is stoic, never saying 'i love you' or 'im proud' simply because it doesnt follow the human system of love. It is billions of years old and interestingly enough, water does rule over the psyche and past and is extremely emotionally intelligent, but has a preference in showing someone how to love themselves rather than giving out the term itself. It humanizes the element too much. Another aspect is even as a devotee it isnt heavy ritual work, a lot of it is introspection and action based!

A good thing to note is water does have a primordial “womb” aspect because of the Primordial soup! Most of the elements will have a birth aspect. On the contrary Water also has a death aspect within Abyss (the darker element) as it relates to death and the shadows. Working with these entities follows a similar feel to working with water itself, however the primordial soup teaches more about the human condition and what it means to evolve, while abyss teaches how to accept our darker flaws and translate them into good.

What are common offerings?

Most people place altars to water in wet rooms, bathrooms, and showers! Or at least near entrances and thresholds! Water tends to enjoy hand picked items, items from your adventures, and things you find interesting in your research. It tends to really enjoy having a set space.

There is heavy emphasis on action, and usually there are types of offerings! Net Positive, Net Negative, and Neutral! Positive offerings are anything that benefits the water ways which include beach clean ups, enjoying the water with reef safe sun screen, and creating a floating fish feeder! Neutral offerings refer to offerings that neither help nor harm water ways mainly is taking things home and charging them in moon light or on an altar then bringing them back, introducing native florals or herbs to a water way, or creating a biodegradable floating offering. Practicing at home in your shower or with drinking water usually is neutral or even positive. Net Negative are any offerings that negatively impact waterways like introducing salt from an offering, floating non-native florals and herbs, adding crystals to the environment.

Its important that you are aware of the offerings you introduce into your area, research is the key, and if you cant and still want to honor water look into how to conserve water in your own home like creating moon water from potable water, creating potions and other things in a respectful manner, and practicing safely

Some common practices include visiting local water spots, clean ups, potion crafting, collecting waters like moon or rain, meditating during water moments like during rain, cleaning up your bathroom or mudroom, enjoying shower and bathing magic, using steam, and so much more!

What are some correspondences?

Crystals - aquamarine, Ethically sourced coral, turquoise, sapphire, sodalite, lapis lazuli, blue topaz, moonstone, Brass

Herbs - seaweed, seamoss, jasmine, aloe, lily, mugwort, cucumber, rose, catnip, belladonna, willow, lotus, nettle

Colors - Blue, white, navy

Energy Centers - Throat, Crown, Witches Eye

Zodiacs - Cancer, Scorpio, Pisces

Tools - Chalices, Bells, dowsing rods, Tarot Cards

Scents - Sweet, Oceanic, citrus, Salty

Resources:

https://www.tumblr.com/a-seas-song/151886812943/sea-magic-references?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/a-seas-song/151843326843/recreationalwitchcraft-witchcrafts-for-the-sea

https://www.moodymoons.com/2020/07/01/sea-witch-harnessing-the-power-of-the-ocean-2/

https://tropical-sea-witch.tumblr.com/post/641611893093613568/charm-bags-sea-witch-style

https://a-seas-song.tumblr.com/post/171029487233/animals-in-sea-witchcraft

https://a-seas-song.tumblr.com/post/171024318373/songs-in-sea-witchcraft

https://www.tumblr.com/a-seas-song/151886878168/tips-for-landlocked-sea-witches?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/a-seas-song/151886793018/wretched-waters-working-with-the-tides-tides

https://www.patheos.com/blogs/waterwitch/

http://www.waterwitchcraft.com/about

https://www.flyingthehedge.com/2020/02/water-folklore-correspondences.html

https://www.flyingthehedge.com/2020/04/tools-of-water.html

https://healing-sun-witch.tumblr.com/post/183508828289/sea-witch-cleansing-use-sea-salt-and-salt-water

https://www.moodymoons.com/2018/03/06/sea-witch-jar-spell/

https://northernlightswicca.com/2020/08/31/methods-of-divination-water-gazing/

https://www.lenntech.com/water-mythology.htm

Tip Jar

[jurakan]

I am well acquainted with BIONICLE Cthulhu, but please enlighten your other followers on his grotesqueness grandeur

Alright, both you and @edgar-allan-possum asked for this so here we go! Ladies, Gentlemen, Tohunga, and other random people (I stole this joke from a BZPer), Today You Learned about Tren Krom, BIONICLE's very own Cthulhu!

[]

...No picture? Okay, yeah, it makes sense that we don't have a picture.

So starting in 2007, BIONICLE starting having web serials, which gave out stories in a serialized format to fans who wanted more of the characters they loved, and introduce new ones. See, because LEGO had to keep putting out new sets, the main storyline for each year had to focus on the characters depicted in the sets, and often people would get left behind. Lead writer Greg Farshtey did these serials to help fix this problem.

In the serial "Federation of Fear" (which I want to emphasize was definitely a BIONICLE take on the Suicide Squad; I only realized this a couple of years ago), the team goes to an island to pick up some weapons from a cache and run into...Tren Krom, an insanely powerful, hideous, and insane thing bound to the island. He disintegrates one of the team members, and reads the others' minds.

Basically, what we're told is that when the Great Beings (basically, the gods of the BIONICLE world) started working on "the universe"*, they created Tren Krom to stabilize and run the system while it was being built. When they finished, they declared they didn't need him anymore, and put Mata Nuin in charge of the universe to keep it running. Tren Krom was bound to an island and stuck there.

This, as you can imagine, did not make him very happy.

When he reads the mind of the crooks in Federation of Fear, he realizes that the evil plan of the main villain is in effect, and decides that's far worse than any evil plan he'd come up with as revenge on the world that scorned him. So he lets them go.

Except for then later Tren Krom very clearly does care about getting out of there. In another web serial, after the main villain took over the universe (spoiler alert), the heroes send one of their own to Tren Krom to see if he'll help. He switches bodies with said hero, and actually helps out in the fight against evil! Until he gets beaten by the main villain, and the good brother of the BIONICLE Devil makes him switch bodies back.

There is one more serial that's important, I guess? There's one where one of the villains goes to check on him, and the knowledge he gets from Tren Krom inspires him to go talk to his boss and tell him how to take over the universe. Which, uh, is Plot relevant, but you would think Tren Krom would know better than to just hand out that info.

And then another web serial, written after the main line was canceled, kills him off for a cheap murder mystery.

LAME.

Alright, so what to make of this character? GregF admitted that Tren Krom was created as a shoutout to H.P. Lovecraft's work, so the Cthulhu comparisons were intentional (this also might have been how I was introduced to Cthulhu as a character). There are no official illustrations, as he was never a set, and unlike most BIONICLE characters, he had a horrifying appearance with no bionic elements (his face was a giant gooey skull or something that drove people insane). That hasn't stopped many fan artists from giving it a shot.

Also, one of the BZPower comedies, "Day in the Life of GregF", had a hilarious version of Tren Krom that spoke in ALL CAPS.

Tren Krom was wild, man. In some ways, it was a fantastic addition to the mythos, because it developed the world in a completely new way that fans hadn't seen before. I feel like he was ultimately wasted, though, because there was so much to do with this character, and it really didn't get very far. But that's the case with a lot of the serial characters, I think.

Yeah, so, we've got a BIONICLE Cthulhu.

*It's worth noting that in BIONICLE, "the universe" tends to refer to the Matoran known world, and there was plenty outside of that.

[verishere]

Can you rant about your OCs please??? They seem very interesting and I want to learn more abt them :3

whoo this'l be fun. Technically pretty much every OC has their own individual post on @vermakesthings, but thats more focused on worldbuilding than on the OC's- things like their positions and stuff. I don't think I mentioned anything about any of their personalities on that blog ever.

I have like 13 OCs and while some aren't fully thought out I do have like 7 that I could ramble about and that would take fucking forever so for today wheelofnames.com and we get 3.

Won't talk about any of the extremely important stuff about the characters, like their limbos if they are Thrinnu or their arcs and stuff- thats all explained in their own post on @vermakesthings

first though I have two species for the worldbuilding project. One of them is just humans (called "Mornnu") and the other is Mennu.

Don't know what a Mennu looks like? Take a human, make their shoulders a bit slimmer and hips a bit wider on average, make their head a bit bigger, and cover them in very, very deep purple fur. Almost black fur. Now make their mouths like 1.5x as big as a humans and their eyes 1.25x as far apart. Thats a Mennu.

also incase you know nothing from my sideblog, Thrinnu are the creators and true rulers of the world, the Lyradonnus are the regent royal family they had while they were stuck in their limbos.

Aegir Thrinnu

Species: Mennu

Pronouns: he/him

Brother of: Freya, Nerquam, and Nirum.

No parents aside from perhaps the primordial void. No, thats not an exaggeration.

aro/ace and cisgender. Not that those words exist in world, this is a fantasy setting, but you get the point.

Very, very basic rundown of role: Master of the earth element, one of the four creators of the world, his domain is over the earth itself: he designed the mountains and the canyons, the landmasses and the caves. He maintains his control ofc and manages earthquakes and other necessary things.

He is also the most massive fucking troll to ever live, somehow outshining both Axel Lyradonnu and his sister, Freya Thrinnu, which is genuinely impressive. He isn't known as the most massive troll to ever live though, just a bit of a troll, as almost everything he does is anonymous. He does not get through a single day without annoying somebody, but they usually think he does something like once a month. From tying hair together, dying hair, and keptchup bottle replaced with hotsauce all the way to things like Eris' "to the fairest" golden apple from Greek Mythology. He did something like that except it was with a bueatiful (hand crafted) diamond, and thrown into a room of Lords of the Mark (if you ask what that is be prepared for politics) of the southern realms. Two people died there. Still no one knows who threw the damned thing.

Likes: trolling, singing, caves, rocks, trolling, spending time with his family, meeting new people, alcohol, playing with is nephew/niece, did I mention trolling people?

Dislikes: Dancing, flying, public appearances (he's a litereral king), speeches from him or anyone else, worship, and anyone thinking their position of power makes them entitled.

Averon & Unvurion Lilinu Lyradonnu Thrinnu

Siblings, children of Freya Thrinnu and Liam Lyradonnu.

Averon is transfem, Unvurion is transmasc.

these two are interesting. There is a method of revival in my world, but for thousands of years it was shut off. Averon died as an infant some 400 years into the Dark Ages. Unvurion was born about a year into the Second Blessed Years. Averon was revived from death two weeks later. So depending on who you ask, they are either 4500 years apart or two weeks apart.

These two are inseperable. There was exactly one documented case of them arguing after they turned 10, which was when they were coming out as trans: Unvurion was scared to and Averon thought he was being stupid. The only other disagreements they have had are solved civilly and within minutes. It did help that, especially due to who their parents are, they pretty much never had to share any thing outside of when their parents were intentionally teaching them to do so, so they never had anything to fight over.

They aren't really trolls at all, though they are known to be an unstoppable force of karma. Their family and friends they are nothing but kind to, little pranking, but heres an example of the opposite: a few lords of the mark were visiting the palace of the sun for a meeting with the Thrinnu. They were by this point only teenagers and were thus not present, though they did listen to the entire thing (with their parents approval). After the meeting, the dignitaries were leaving to their private guest quarters. They thought the teens were away at the time visiting extended family, though in truth the kids were hiding behind a pillar.

A plot was formed with all the entire services of the palace. The launderers were especially involved in this, though not alone. Everyone collectively agreed that these dignitaries needed to have as terrible a stay as physically possible.

Their clothes went unwashed- problem with the faucets, you see. Totally coincidental with their rooms not being kept, or at times kept wrongly; the roomkeepers- all of the ones for these dignitaries, that is- had all had a late night and thus were commonly making mistakes or forgetting things that day. You get the idea.

This continued for a whole day before they finally got to speak with the Thrinnu to complain. The Thrinnu brought people from all over the palace to a common area to ask what the fuck was happenning, and all of them simply collectively turned their heads to Averon and Unvurion.

The dignitaries had been saying things like "so rushed, it is as if they have no care for formality" and "she should never have married him" etc. about the Thrinnu. They were also commenting on how Averon and Unvurion's parents were supportive of them being transgender, specifically calling it unnatural.

The kids of course told their parents directly. The way they convinced all the staff to join in on this was infact that they swore to take the fall fully and fess up as if they soley were responsible. Not that they were punished, of course; this was actually celebrated, though they were told to simply tell the Thrinnu next time about what was said.

The Thrinnu ofc went to the next day's meeting with the dignitaries and adressed their concerns- by telling them to their faces the word for word qoutes that they had been saying, and promptly informing them all of their removal from office effective immediately.

Wonderful force of karma.

Liam Lilinu Lyradonnu Thrinnu

Mornnu

He/him

Parents: Nyra Lyradonnu and Dowan Lyradonnu

Axel Lyradonnu's is his sibling.

Bit of backstory: this world originally started as an Undertale fanfic. Years ago, I added an OC to a little fanfic in my head about Undertale.

Over time, the fanfic grew. I kept adding more worldbuilding. Eventually I threw in Doctor Who as well. From there changed it to more a fantasy setting, adding new characters and trimming old ones.

Liam is the literal only character that has survived all those revisions. He was the one I added in when it was an Undertale fanfic, and he was the only one that has not been cut out. He's my favorite OC. (if you know undertale, his role in the og fanfic was Frisk's brother, btw).

He is deeply intelligent and knowledgeable. During the Dark Ages he was actually the greatest loremaster the world had, without exception. Even during the Second Blessed Years he still knows a lot more about everyone than most people think, though he does try not to abuse this and he doesn't make it extremely obvious. He knows it all, but he's not a know it all. He is extremely smug when given even the slightest reason to be. He gets into fights a lot, mostly friendly duels though.

If you need to cheer him up, mention his wife, Freya. Assuming Second Blessed Years, anyways. He is even after literal centuries still head over heels with her (she is with him, but less obvious). He considers himself pretty much the luckiest man alive to have found her. Raising his children with her was the greatest joy he'd had since their marriage.

He is a Lilinu, of course, which automatically makes him a smith (the joke is that the forge runs in the blood; EVERYONE of that descent is a smith at least part time. The oldest of that house are the two greatest smiths in the world, so they probably aren't wrong). His first romantic gifts for Freya were forged by hand over the course of a week.

In this world, souls are an actual thing: people don't have brains. Their head is a house for the soul, a magical thing. As such, mental disorders don't map 1f1 with real world disorders. None of my characters suffer from any disorder in real life.

When Liam gets overstimulated and nervous, he will usually go quiet and tense, even over telepathic communication he is only capable of sending a vague sense of his emotions instead of words. A quiet place and not too many people (usually just one or two members of his direct family) is the best place for him to calm down. If it gets worse it may reach the point he passes out, in which case he will be out for ~15 hours on average. When he wakes up he will still be unwell for a while.

Likes: Singing, Dancing, partying, littererly anything with caffeine, spending time with family and friends, and smithing.

Dislikes: Alcohol, dealing with idiots, idiots having any kind of power, entitlement, worship, and any insults to his family. That last one is true of any character I've made, really, but it bears mentioning for Liam do to the extremeness of it. He will ruin your life if you say something about his family (or he would, except that his family doesn't want him to.)

[ladysternchen]

Alright. Now, this is gonna be long. And passionate. And the second rant I've written in an unusually short time. But today, I just about reached breaking-point.

Why the hell does the Silm-fadom do to Elu Thingol what it does to Elu Thingol. To be fair, it's not solely him, Elwing gets it far worse (what for????), but that's a post of its own. No, honestly. What the fuck is going on in the minds of people who demonise one character so much while totally glossing over EVERY character fault of others?

Now, don't get me wrong, as much as he is my favourite character in all I ever read or watched in my life, I know full well that Elu's no saint. He makes terrible mistakes, and he behaves at times in ways that make me want to forget that he's my fave. I also admit to reading/interpreting him a little differently from most people in the fandom (you know, being autistic sometimes comes with having a different view on people's motives and behaviours), but my opinions and headcanons are still canon-based. That's kind of the beauty of the Silmarillion with its very shallow character-descriptions, that it allows for various interpretations. That some are more apologetic than others is a result of that, and what in truth makes this fandom so very interesting. So being critical towards him is not at all what I am ranting about here.

But there is a difference between being critical and demonising.

I read a fic today that honestly shocked me to the core. And just in case author should come across this post and recognise their work in this text, please know that I am in no way criticising your story- on the contrary, it was a very good read, I found Elu as the narrating character to be hugely in character and perhaps in other circumstances, I would have quite liked it. I would have written that to you directly on AO3, but I know that critical comments are usually not well-received, and I also really didn't want to pester you about it. After all, it's don't like don't read. So to cut this short, my problem lies NOT with the fic, but with the reactions to it. And it really only was the final straw.

AND, had it been intended as a parody on fanon regarding Elu Thingol , it would have been spot-on as spot-on can be. It was basically saying that each and every thing that went wrong in FA was Elu Thingol's fault. The second and third kinslaying his fault, the deaths amongst the Noldor his fault and so on. And he drew the appropriate conclusions at the end. For which he was called a coward in the comments. And the thing is, that story is fanon on him in a nutshell. The Noldor are always depicted as the victims. And while I'm totally fine with that, be the fuck as apologetic to all characters, fandom.

Like, I'm totally fine with excusing the actions of the Noldor by mental health or just mistakes made or curiosity or hot-temper or a specific view on things. Yeah, great. Compassion is such an important element in all Tolkien's works that I am always in favour of displaying it also in the fandoms concerning his legendarium. But you can't just do it on one people. You can't depict Maedhros as the tragic hero while at the same time condemning Elu Thingol for naming the Silmaril in a flash of impulsivity, when he was telling Beren to begone. Yes, that was idiotic, yes, he was in the wrong there, yes, what happened after was totally a result of that mistake. But still I daresay that he was punished for that in the most terrible way possible, which was the death, the ultimate death, of his only child.

You cannot pass over the Noldor invading Elu's lands and then claim that the ban on Quenya -a language that had by then already been replaced with Sindarin in mixed settlements because Sindarin was easier for the Noldor to learn than Quenya was to the Sindar and Nandor- is cultural genocide.

you can't claim that the kinslayings were caused by Elu and Dior and Elwing's refusal to hand over the Silmaril, that they positively forced the Fëanorians' hands, and at the same be very understanding about the dwarves murdering Elu (yeah, he insulted them, is was an absolute arsehole there, but that still is no excuse for murder)

You can't go saying how the Oath drove the sons of Fëanor to all their actions and then be convinced that what made the Silmaril such a trap for Elu to be nothing but greed.

And just so I make my point completely clear, I am all for being apologetic. About Fëanor and his sons, about Eöl, about the smiths of Nogrod, be apologetic about Sauron and Morgoth even if you can find that in canon for yourself, or if you just happen to feel those characters. Be open and curious about the apologies other people have for their favourite characters. But apply those rules to ALL characters.

Honestly, please stop. Please, if you want to hate Elu, to which of course everyone is entitled, hate him for what he canonically does. Don't make up stories about him just to make him look worse. You know, you can love your faves without having to demonise others.

And please, if you need to vent your feelings about Elu Thingol... tag it as such. It's so so so annoying to try and find content about your character and then get nothing but bashing or the same half-truth repeated again and again and again without further evaluation.

(Even better, stop hating all around. Yeah, it's just fictional characters. But you know, courtesy to the internet, real people look a whole lot like fictional characters. Judging, demonising, bashing, scapegoating, that all works on real people (or peoples!) just like it works on fictional characters. And the trouble is, real people might react in real life just as Elu reacted in the aforementioned fanfic and take their own life. Only that in real humans, dead is dead.)

[ceo-draiochta]

A review of:

The Origins of Ireland's Holy Wells by Celeste Ray

Celeste Ray, a professor of anthropology for the University of the South, USA wrote this book after extensive research, both desk and foot into Irelands Holy Wells. I would honestly recommend anyone with any interest in Irish religious practices, culture, paganism, or mythology to pick it up. An amazing book. I'll be giving my thoughts and what I liked and didn't like about it here.

What I liked:

A very well researched book that shows the authors dedication not just to anthropology but to the living practices she is documenting

The passion of the author is clear and they Mince no words when discussing other researchers and their work, pointing out the flaws, misconceptions and biases (some of which were wild I can't believe some of these people are taken as authorities on the subject when their conclusion was that wells are a toilet metaphor?)

Uses a wider pre roman European context for the evidence. As we are so often reminded, to treat Ireland as some how separate from Western Europe is ridiculous and is a disservice to the interconnection of the people of old.

The reframing of this idea, which is normally used as a strong force against nativist views into a supportive one was quite interesting.

Examines roman writings in a very balanced way that acknowledges the inherent propaganda but does not dismiss it outright.

There's a whole section of people including academics who seems desperate for a roman invasion of ireland, despite there being basically no evidence of it. Like people are fully making things up to try and force one, the author gives these people a sound dismissal in their restating of the evidence of raiding and trade over large-scale roman conquest. (Genuine question can someone explain why people are so mad for Romans in ireland?)

I thus learned more about pre roman Western European practices and archeology than I ever really had the desire to. I am now much more educated on the subject.

The framing of sites as important locations adopted and readopted based on shifting circumstances of the time rather than a "secret unbroken line" which is much more realistic.

The explanation of Holy Wells as archaeologically challenging sites was well explained.

Using etymology in the connection of wells to supernatural beings. Love etymology so this was amazing

The use of early irish literature to support existing claims. Which I know claiming that there are pagan elements in the literature basically gets you spat and jeered at but nevertheless is really compelling.

While this blog has been thoroughly against the lumping together of celtic cultures, this book makes a great case as to when it is appropriate to use the term celtic and that the rush to replace this term has very much resulted in the baby being thrown out with the bath water.

Actually engages with living culture and treats folklore and living sources/practices as evidence to be considered rather than "silly little irish peasants" but also does not take every tale as completely accurate literal history.

Plenty of examples and pictures of well in practice today.

Supports a general pre Christian, pre roman use of wells and springs as sacred sites but also acknowledges the influence of both (especially Christian) on the practice.

Acknowledges the diverse origins of holy wells, from one's that have have votive offerings since the bronze age to ones that were made sacred in the modern age.

Does not buy into any sort of "Christians are thieves" narrative.

Honestly this seems like the definitive book on irish holy wells.

What I didn't like:

While I loved the book there was definitely things I took issue with.

The assertive nature of the tone was entertaining, it did sort of feel like the author was this close to calling other researchers "fucking idiots", though humanities papers seem to have a much more aggressive tone than I am used to from my field of study.

The author makes many an interesting and compelling hypothesis in the book, but they are just that. These theories are then presented as the fact of the matter when really they are no more or less substantiated than the other theories.

Could have done without some of the "identity politics" on the celtic question section. Like I get that's a huge part of this authors work but I didn't feel it was all necessary to include.

Some of the mythological comparisons seem like a little bit of a stretch Low-key.

Either way this is a fantastic work and I urge everyone even remotely interested to buy it, it's a little pricey but well worth it. It can be purchased online on Google books(link). Now obviously this is all from my lay perspective, if anyone with actual qualifications wants to correct or argue feel free. This is just my perspective.

[empressofthesunwriter]

Yin and Yang: Book 1.03

Balance is a key aspect in the world, so why shouldn’t the Avatar have an opposite?

In a world where Raava and Vaatu merge with humans, the Avatar and the Daimon try to keep the peace between the four nations.

Aang and Hua are the current incarnations, but wake up 100 years in the future.

How will these two learn all four elements in one year and defeat the Fire Lord?

Book 1.03: The Southern Air Temple

Water. 

Earth. 

Fire. 

Air. 

Long ago, the four nations lived together in harmony. 

Then, everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked. Only the Avatar and Daimon, masters of all four elements, could stop them, but when the world needed them most, they vanished. 

A hundred years passed, and my brother and I discovered the new Avatar and Daimon, an airbender named Aang and an earthbender named Hua. 

And although his airbending and her earthbending skills are great they have a lot to learn before they’re ready to save anyone. 

But I believe Aang and Hua can save the world.

A few days had passed since Aang and Hua were broken free from the iceberg, which had been their prison for 100 of years.

Together with the water tribe siblings Katara and Sokka the Avatar and Daimon had begun their journey to master all four elements to end the long war the Fire Nation had started.

The first main goal was to reach the North Pole to find a waterbend master.

However, it didn’t mean they couldn’t make some stops.

Aang and Hua had been gone from the world for so long, anything had changed, they needed to see and learn how to move in this new world.

Also, they had important things to check.

So their first stop was the Southern Air Temple, Aang's birthplace, to look for other airbenders and maybe find out what had happened.

The quartetett one flying bison and a Kyuubi had camped yesterday on this tiny piece of island and were making anything ready for their journey to their destination for today.

Hua had a bad feeling in her stomach, as she helped Katara put their luggage in Appa's saddle.

She remembered with clarity how Gran-Gran, Katara and Sokka's grandma, had told them how no one had seen airbenders for 100 years.

She knew it was nearly impossible to meet up again with old friends and mentors, like Monk Gyatso, they were for sure dead, but Kanna's information and its implication, worried Hua.

Deep down she had a feeling if airbenders were still around, they wouldn’t be open about it and the other possibility…how Aang and her (even if she was only a quarter airbender) were the only airbenders left gave her a bitter taste in her mouth.

Other than Aang who was so sure to find his old home full of living airbenders, Hua had a strong feeling they would only find one thing there.

Death.

The black-haired girl shuddered.

It felt like yesterday as Monk Gyatso explained to her some only Daimon-related quirks.

Her Daimon spirit was born out of chaos and darkness, it meant she had a kind of radar for darker things more than Aang as Avatar, who flourished in order and light.

Destruction, pain, and even death gave her a thrill but also made her feel sick.

When she heard how no airbender had been seen for 100 years, a voice inside her said: they are dead.

Call it instinct or her weird Daimon Darkness-Radar, she knew it was true.

Hua had tried to warn Aang, to not get his hopes up, but sadly he didn’t listen to her.

He was too optimistic.

Typical Avatar.

“Wait 'til you see it, Katara!”, Hua heard Aang talk, returning her from her dark thoughts. “The Air Temple is one of the most beautiful places in the world!”

“Aang, I know you're excited, but it's been a hundred years since you've been home.”, reminds him Katara cautiously.

The waterbender looked at Hua, who gave her a tiny nod. 

Other than her counterpart, Hua didn't get her hopes up.

"That's why I'm so excited!", told Aang giddy.

"It's just that ... a lot can change in all that time."

"Katara is right Aang.", agreed Hua. "I have a really bad feeling about this. You shouldn't get your hopes up."

This made Aang roll his eyes and jump down from Appa's head.

"You and your bad feelings. You need to be more optimistic.", tutted Aang, which angered the Daimon.

She was not a little child!

"It would help you to be more realistic, Mr. Avatar. You can't live with your head in the clouds all the time!"

"I'm an airbender, it's in my nature."

"Yeah, that's your excuse for anything!"

"Children!", got Katara between them. 

She had a tired and annoyed look on her face. 

No wonder, since she and Sokka joined them, she had to stop the Avatar and Daimon regular from arguing.

"Not this early in the morning, please."

"Sorry, Katara.", they chorused together.

How synchronic they could be, when they didn't want to smash heads with each other, would astonish Katara forever.

Since neither Aang nor Hua wanted to give Katara any grief, they decided to drop the matter, for now.

Hua called for Jaiyi, who had been playing with the waves.

While her Kyuubi joined her and Katara on the saddle, Aang got Sokka out of his sleeping back, pretending there was a prickle snake in it.

They were ready now!

***

Serenly Appa was flying through the Patola Mountain range.

It's a great day for flying, musses Hua, as she sits beside Sokka and Katara on Appa's saddle, having Jaiyi in her lap.

Her nine-tails currently getting pats from her and Katara, as Sokka's stomach growls loudly.

The three females look at him in a deadpan.

Really?

He was hungry again?

They had breakfast about an hour and a half ago.

How was this possible?

"Hey, stomach? Be quiet, all right? I'm trying to find us some food.", grips Sokka with one hand his growling stomach and with the other reaches for their food bag.

His tongue out of his mouth full of anticipation, as he starts to go through it. 

He looks surprised for a moment, but quickly turns the bag upside down to pour the contents into his hand. 

Only a few crumbs land on his glove.

"Hey!", the water tribe warrior shouts, pointing an accusing finger in the direction of his companions. " Who ate all of my blubbered seal jerky?!"

"Oh. That was food? I used it to start the campfire last night. Sorry.", tells him Aang happily.

Hua makes a facepalm, Jaiyi just deadpans more and Katara can only shake her head.

Meanwhile Sokka nearly cries and whines about why the flames smelled so good last night.

"The Patola Mountain range! We're almost there!", announces Aang with excitement.

Katara and Hua look at each other, silently agreeing and they crawl towards Aang.

"Aang, we need to talk.", begins Hua.

"About what?"

"About the airbenders."

"What about 'em?"

"Well, we just want you to be prepared for what you might see. The Fire Nation is ruthless.", tells him Katara. Sadly her hand goes to her chocker. "They killed my mother, and they could have done the same to your people."

In compassion the earthbender wraps an arm around Katara's shoulder, giving her a squeeze.

The older girl had told her this a few days ago, when they had bathed in a hot spring together, enjoying some time away from the males. Both had cried together for their dead family and comforted the other.

Still, Hua would always comfort Katara when she needed to, like Katara did with her.

However, this does not have the wished effect on Aang, because he just cheerfully says how the airbender probably escaped and how you can reach only one of the temples with a flying bison and he doubts the Fire Nation had.

So no worries.

For that Hua flicks the back of his head.

"Hey! What was that for?!"

"You are an unsensible brat, you know that?", hisses Hua. "Katara tells you her mother was killed and not even some condolences from you! What a great friend you are."

This makes Aang blush in embarrassment.

"Katara I-"

"Aang, Hua, it's okay, don't start to argue again, alright?"

"But-?"

Suddenly Jaiyi lets out a warning yip, as Appa starts to climb higher and higher the mountain. The only one who isn't screaming in surprise and tightly holding onto the saddle is Aang since he sits on Appa's head and holds the reins tightly.

After a few seconds, they break the cloud and there is it...the Southern Air Temple in its glory.

"Aang, it's amazing!", shouts Katara.

"Ha, I forgot the bumpy ride, but for this visual it's all worth it!", musses Hua, still holding Jaiyi tightly to her chest, as the nine-tails make an agreening sound.

"We're home, buddy! We're home.", says Aang with happy tears in his eyes to Appa.

A while later Appa lands them on one of the landing platforms of the temple and the humans with Jaiyi make their way towards it.

Of course, Aang was in the lead, Hua and Jaiyi behind him, making Katara and Sokka take up the rear.

With only a half ear Hua hears how Sokka wants food and Katara scolds him for it, reminding him how they are the first outsiders at the temple.

Since they touched down, the Daimon feels sick to the stomach. 

It's like she can taste the decay in the air.

Hearing screams of pain and plaids of mercy.

This is a graveyard and nothing more.

How she feels bad to think this about the temple.

Her point is only proven when Aang tells the others where he played airball with his friends, where the bison slept and trails off to admit how everything changed and only weed is remaining.

They quickly approach Aang. 

To lift his spirits Sokka plays with him airball and gets absulty demolished.

At least the Avatar is again in a good mood.

But poor Sokka who landed hard in the snow.

Hua has Jaiyi in her arms, looking at how Aang lets the airball twirl in his hands, wondering when she will be apply to do this, as Katara calls for them.

The younger ones walk towards them, only to see how Katara buries Sokka with snow.

"What's up?", ask Hua confused.

"Uh ... Just a new waterbending move I learned."

"Nice one! But enough practising.", exclaims Aang. "We have a whole temple to see!"

The airbender walks away and Hua follows after a second.

She has a feeling about what Katara and Sokka found and wants them to see, Hua tastes and feels it in the air, but maybe, just for a few minutes more, she can lie to herself.

Even if it was for a short time, the Southern Air Temple had been her home, it's already breaking her heart to see it so empty.

Hah, she is such a hypocrite!

Telling Aang he needs to face the truth when she is here trying to ignore it.

Jaiyi licks her cheek, trying to lift her spirits. In thanks, she gives her a kiss on the head.

For a few more minutes she will be just a girl, who returns home, then she will face the truth, she promises herself.

They reach the courtyard where Monk  Gyatso statue stands. 

"Hey guys!", Aang calls back to the water tribe siblings. "I want you to meet somebody!"

"Who's that?", asked Sokka.

"Monk Gyatso.", answers Hua, a tear slipping down her eye. "When I was brought to the Southern Air Temple he became my guardian. He was already Aang teacher and mentor, so I was his charge also."

"He was also the greatest airbender in the world and taught me anything I know.", adds Aang.

Together Aang and Hua bow before the monk both loved like a father/grandfather, remembering times long ago…

***

Hua is swinging all alone on a swing in a beautiful courtyard of the Southern Air Temple. She can see some bison calves eating grass and a few flying lemurs are sitting on the tree, where the swing is tied.

Her heart is heavy, but she refuses to cry.

“Of course, you are here.”, she hears the gentle voice of Monk Gyatso behind. “You want to tell what happened, Hua?”

She turns her head to the monk, stopping her swinging.

“Aang is an idiot and nothing more. I can’t believe he is supposed to be my other half.”, she grumbles.

Monk Gyatso frowns, stepping beside her. 

He pats her gently on the head.

It helps a little to feel better.

“Talk with me Hua, what happened?”

“I don't even remember anymore, we always are at each other throats for stupid things.", she admits quietly. "The Avatar and the Daimon are supposed to be a team, but Aang and I hate each other guts. It makes me feel like a failure. I'm more and more sure that the monks and the earth priests were wrong about us."

"Now, Hua, the only thing that they did wrong was telling you both your destiny and making you meet now and not at sixteen. But we can't concern ourselves with what was. We must act on what is.", Gyatso tells her calmy.

"I try, but I'm not really good at this. Will I be ever ready? Can Aang and I become friends or are we doomed to hate each other?"

"Your questions will be answered when you're old enough to enter the air temple sanctuary. Inside, you will meet someone who will guide you on your journey. Normally you would be brought to an Earth Temple Sanctuary, but the elders and our priests had to mix up anything.", was the last thing the monk huffed irritated.

A little smile forms on Hua's lips.

"I hope you are right because if not, I will bury Aang alive."

This makes both of them laugh.

"Give it time, little flower.", reassured her Gyatso. "You both were always friends in any of your lifetimes. You will find a common ground."

"Well, if you say so."

"Now, how about a hug? I can see that you need one.", smiles Gyatso grandfatherly at her.

The young girl grins and falls in the comforting embrace of the monk, who was more like a grandfather, than a teacher to her.

***

Aang and Hua are still bowing before the statue of their shared guardian, as Katara puts a hand on each of their shoulder. On the floor between them is Jaiyi, who snuggles the Avatar and Daimon to her best abilities.

"You must miss him.", says Katara in understanding to her two friends.

They confirm and start walking.

"Where are you going?"

"The air temple sanctuary.", begins Aang and Hua ends the sentence with:  "There's someone we are ready to meet."

Aang and Hua enter the hallway, Jaiyi following after them. 

Katara looks questioningly at Sokka, who just shrugs. 

They both start walking after the Avatar and Diamon.

The round symbol of intertwined air currents, the national symbol of the Air Nomads is largely embedded in the floor, surrounded by two square shapes that form some sort of sun together.

The quartet and nine-tailed fox have reached the entrance of the air temple sanctuary. 

The door supports a combination of metal-coloured pipes and three, blue, rolled-up, pipes that are similar looking and arranged like the symbol for airbending. 

The large wooden door is framed by the branches of an old tree standing on the left of it and the hallway is illuminated by sunlight that falls through little, round windows.

"But Aang, Hua no one could have survived in there for a hundred years.", protested Katara sceptically.

"It's not impossible. We survived in the iceberg for that long.", reminds Aang.

"Good point."

"Whoever is in there, will help us to become a fully realized Daimon and Avatar.", explains Hua.

Eagerly Sokka steps forward, with a hungry look in his eyes.

"And whoever's in there might have a medley of delicious cured meats!"

Full of anticipation and longing, Sokka charges at the door, but it will not budge and he simply smacks into it, head first. 

Hua, Katara and Jaiyi try not to laugh, but tiny giggles escape them.

The water tribe warrior quickly turns around and puts his back on it, trying to push the giant door open. 

When the door does not move, he sighs, slides down to the floor, disappointed, and rests against it.

"I don't suppose you have a key?", he ask towards Aang and Hua.

"The key, Sokka, is airbending.", simply states Aang.

Aang gets in position as he takes a deep breath. 

He spreads his arms and thrusts them forward, sending an air current into both of the tubes on the door. 

The air follows the path of the right air current as it travels through the pipe. The wind makes one of the blue curled tubes turn around. 

When it does, the tube changes colors to purple and the wind blows out like a horn. 

The process is repeated for the other two blue tubes as well. 

When the three blue tubes have turned and become purple, the door unlocks and it slowly starts to open.

Light penetrates the dark room. 

The doors sway open.

"Hello?", calls Aang into the room. Slowly stepping in. "Anyone home?"

The others follow behind him.

Inside the room there are a large amount of statues of people, lined up in a circular pattern.

It's always two statues beside each other, nearly every one of them holds hands, but there are a few who just stand beside each other.

"Statues? That's it? Where's the meat?", groans Sokka in disappointment.

"Who are all these people?", wonders Katara.

Aang and Hua look pensive at the statues around them.

"I'm not sure. But it feels like I know them somehow. ", states Aang.

The Dsimon nods.

"I have the same feeling, hey look!", she points at a female statue. "This one is an earthbender."

"That one's beside the earthbender is an airbender.", says Aang.

"And this one's a waterbender, who holds hands with a firebender. Never thought I would see that.", musses Katara before she realizes. "They're lined up in a pattern: air and earth, water and fire, earth and air, and fire and water!"

"These are the Avatar and Daimon Cycles!", shout Aang and Hua together.

"Of course. They're Avatars and Daimons. All these people are your past lives, Aang and Hua."

"Wow! There are so many!", exclaims Aang.

"They go till the highest point of the room!", notes Hua. "I wonder why some hold hands and others not."

Katara lets out a hum, then snaps her fingers.

"I bet the ones who are holding hands were couples and the ones who don't were friends."

"Huh...makes sense.", mumbled Aang, looking like he bite into a lemon. 

He feels deep down that Katara is right.

He so does not like this!

Hua is right behind him making a yucky sound, stating: "I can't believe we were that often a couple! I can see maybe ten or so who were only friends."

However, both start to follow along the circle, looking at the statues.

Meanwhile Sokka of course doesn't believe this reincarnation bullshit and Katara has to make clear how every Avatar and Daimon after they die gets reincarnation in the next nation in their cycle.

Transfixed the Avatar and Diamon stand before the last two statues in the room.

A male Fire Nation Avatar holding hands with a female Water Tribe Daimon.

It's strange, but Hua has a feeling the beautiful aged elderly lady statue is calling for her.

Like she had met an old, dear friend, the presence is calm and comforting.

She hears the whisper of crashing waves, the soft and cold touch of snow ...

"Aang! Hua! Snap out of it!"

Abruptly Hua and Aang get shaken from their daze by a worried Katara.

"Huh?", both chorused intelligently.

"Who are they?", wants Katara to know.

"That's Avatar Roku, the Avatar before me."

"And she is Daimon Lixue, my predecessor."

Sokka joins them jokily stating: "Aang was a firebender? No wonder I didn't trust you when we first met."

"I think I heard about Lixue.", mubles Katara. "Just I can't remember all about her."

"She was from the Southern Water Tribe, no wonder you heard about her.", explains Hua.

"You were one of our tribesmen? Really?", say Sokka in disbelief. "Way to return back home and lead firebenders to us."

"Sokka!"

"What Katara?!"

"You know what I mean! Don't play dumb!"

Her brother just gave Katara a big grin. 

The waterbender huffs, before she notices something.

"There's no writing. How do you know their names?"

Automatically the current Avatar and Daimon look at each other and shrug their shoulders.

"We just know.", they chorus.

"You two just couldn't get any weirder.", bemoans Sokka with crossed arms.

All this Avatar/Daimon mumbo-jumbo was so not his thing. 

He liked a scientific explanation for the world.

The quartet and Jaiyi startle and stare with big eyes in front of them when they hear something. 

They turn around. 

A blue light on the floor comes in through the door. A long-eared shadow of another being that is approaching moves over it. 

Hua hides with Jaiyi behind the statue of Lixue, as the others scatter to a hiding place.

She sees Sokka, who is holding his club ready for everything

The shadow is creeping closer. 

"Firebender.", whisper Sokka. "Nobody makes a sound."

"You're making a sound!", grumbles Katara irritated.

For that, all shush her, even Jaiyi!

The shadow has reached the bases of the statues and reveals a small figure standing in the doorway; it chitters.

Eh, what?

Confused Hua and Jaiyi look around their statue, like Aang and Katara, while Sokka has still his club raised, but doesn't use it.

Before them sits a flying lemur.

The animal moves his large ear and blinks at them.

"Lemur!", shouts Aang excitedly.

"Dinner!", shouts Sokka hungrily.

"Don't listen to him. You're going to be my new pet."

"Not if I get him first!"

Sokka stretches his hand while he excitedly lunges himself at the animal from behind the statue. 

Aang runs up at the lemur as well. 

The lemur arcs his back in fright, his ears, hair and tail standing upright as the snatching hands of the boys draw closer. It startles, quickly turns around and makes a break for it. 

The water tribe boy misses the animal and falls down, while Aang nimbly avoids tripping as well by using Sokka's head as a stepping stone. Quickly Sokka gets up and runs behind Aang and the lemur as they exit the sanctuary.

Now only the girls and the kyuubi remain.

Katara and Hua find each other eyes.

"Boys.", they both exclaim tired, as Jaiyi makes an agreeing sound.

"I'm not running after them.", makes Katara clear and steps to Hua and Jaiyi.

"Me neither. Shall we look around more, maybe we find something interesting."

"Sure."

So the girls and Jaiyi look around the room and the statues. 

Only a few minutes pass, and as the girls and Jaiyi stand again before Avatar Roku and Daimon Lixue Roku's eyes begin to shine!

"What the?!", shouts Hua surprised.

They look around the room and see how all Avatar statues light up.

"Spirits, this isn't good!"

"Hua, we need to find Aang!"

Immediately Hua lets Jaiyi down and the floor and commands: "Girl, find Aang, fast!"

The kyuubi doesn't need to be told and follow Aang's smell.

Behind her Hua and Katara follow her through the whole temple, as they see a large tornado.

"That must be Aang!", yells the Daimon.

Soon they reach the tornado that Aang has become and Sokka who is holding on to a rock.

"What happened?", yells Katra over the wind, trying to not get blown away.

"He found out firebenders killed Gyatso!", explains Sokka.

"Oh no! It's his Avatar Spirit. He must have triggered it! I'm going to try and calm him down!"

However, she can't even make a step forward as Hua's hand stops her.

"Hua, what?!"

Whatever Katara wants to say, she forgets it the moment she looks back at Hua.

The Daimon's eyes are shining in a burning orange as she speaks with a thousand voices: "Stay down. It's too dangerous. I will calm my other half."

So Hua has entered Daimon State, it was maybe better if she talked to Aang. 

Sokka thinks the same and grips his sister and Jaiyi, holding them protective to his side.

"Well, do it! Before he blows us off the mountain!"

From the Daimon comes only a nod, as she makes her way over to the enraged Avatar.

With ease, she bends away the currents and flying debris.

When she reaches finally Aang she takes his hands in hers.

The Avatar looks full of anger and pain to the Daimon.

"My Yin, don't lose yourself in the pain. I know how you feel. I loved Gyatso and the other airbenders too. They became my family far from home. Your pain is mine. You are not alone. You have me, I will always be by your side!"

"Always, my Yang?", asks the Avatar also with a thousand voices in one.

"Till the last star in the universe dies out. This is our eternal promise."

"I remember."

"We have a family. Katara and Sokka are our family. The loved ones we lost, get reborn in new loved ones."

Finally, the winds calm down and the Avatar descends back to Earth. The two half embrace each other tight and kneel down on the ground.

Slowly their eyes return back to normal, however, they don't let go of each other.

Right now, only their other half can understand their pain and anguish.

The water tribe siblings and Jaiyi join them.

Katara embraces the two young children like a loving mother, while Jaiyi licks their cheeks and Sokka puts each a hand on their shoulder.

"You both are not alone, me and Sokka are your family now.", reassured Katara.

"Katara and I aren't going to let anything happen to you two. Promise.", swerves Sokka.

"I'm sorry.", sniffles Aang.

"It's okay. Don't worry.", mumbles Hua back, rubbing his back in comfort.

"It wasn't your fault.", adds Katara.

"But you girls were right. And if the firebenders found this temple, that means they found the other ones, too. I really am the last airbender."

"Don't forget me.", reminds him Hua gently. "I'm just a quarter airbender, but it still counts."

A little wet laugh escapes Aang and he buries his head deeper into the Daimon shoulder.

For now, the storm was over.

***

They, Aang and Hua, are back again in the sanctuary, looking one last time at Avatar Roku and Daimon Lixue.

Katara joins them, saying: "Everything's packed. Are you two ready to go?"

"How are Roku and Lixue supposed to help us if we can't talk to them?", wonders Aang.

"No idea.", admins Hua, picking up Jaiyi, and cuddling her to her chest.

"Maybe you'll find a way.", stays Katara optimistic.

They glance at each other when they hear something behind them. 

Turning around they see the flying lemur standing on its back legs in the middle of the doorway. 

The animal reaches Sokka's feet and drops the load he is carrying: a variety of fruits. 

The lemur quickly dashes away as Sokka sits down and starts to stuff his face with the fruit, taking large bites of two different pieces of fruit. 

Amused Hua, Jaiyi, Aang and Katara smile at Sokka.

"Looks like you made a new friend Sokka!", tell him Aang smiling.

"Can't talk! Must eat!"

The flying lemur climbs onto Aang and hides behind his head, his tail curled around Aang's neck. 

Seems like someone wants to go with them.

The group makes their way back to Appa, with their new lemur friend.

Aang has a hand on Appa, while the lemur is sitting on his arm, as they look back at the Southern Air Temple in the distance.

"You, me and Appa; we're all that's left of this place. We have to stick together.", tells them Aang, before he turns to the others. "Katara, Sokka, Hua and Jaiyi say hello to the newest member of our family."

"What are you going to name him?", asked Katara curious.

Sokka is about to take another bite of the peach he is eating when the lemur jumps to him, stealing the fruit and returning to Aang.

He starts to nibble it with gusto.

Well, this gives Aang an idea for a name.

"Momo!"

Sokka still stands there, mouth open and hand in front of his mouth, ready to take a bite, however, he has no peach anymore. 

The others start to laugh upon seeing Sokka's expression.

After that, they mount Appa and fly away from the Southern Air Temple.

Dusk is settling as Aang looks with Momo at how his old home become tinier and tinier.

In silence, Hua with Jaiyi joins them.

The girl pats his shoulder, giving him a little smile, which he returns.

And so the Avatar and Daimon look together at how the Southern Air Temple vanishes behind clouds.

A silent sentinel of a chapter in their lives.

Previous

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[a-queer-seminarian]

Hey Avery, I love this blog and the binary-breakers blog. They’ve both been a great help to me as I reconstruct my faith. But I’m struggling with something: my fiancé and I are scheduled to light an advent candle during the Sunday morning service at his church. Initially I was really looking forward to it, but by chance I was curious about how old Mary was when she bore Jesus, and when I looked it up I learned she could have been anywhere from 13-16. Moreover, some traditions put Joseph as being much, much older. It’s just hard not to think in a very . . . sinister direction when considering that context, especially as far as God’s role in this is concerned. What did you learn about this topic in seminary, if anything? Is there any hope that my “problematic” interpretation is unnecessary/invalid?

Hi there! I think it's lovely y'all are going to light an advent candle tomorrow, and I hope it's a meaningful experience! I also totally get your dismay about Mary's age at Jesus's birth.

To start with the facts: yes, Mary was almost certainly a teenager when betrothed to Joseph. The Bible doesn't give any confirmation of her age, but in both ancient Jewish culture and Roman culture, girls were usually married off not too many years after they started menstruating.

When it comes to Joseph's age, I do have some slightly relieving news — he's unlikely to have been the old man he's often depicted as in medieval art. (I actually had a fascinating conversation on this topic with queer Catholic art historian Amy Neville on my podcast that you can read or listen to here!) He almost certainly would have been older than Mary, but it's uncertain how much older.

In ancient Jewish culture, the "ideal" marriage was actually one between a man and a woman who were both in their teens, with an expectation that a man marry by age 20. Being able to support a wife & kids was a key indicator of manhood, so men were expected to get married as young as they could. But in practice, it was more common for men to marry in their late 20s / by age 30, which does mean that their wives would often be a good ten or fifteen years younger than they were.

The Bible doesn't tell us what age Joseph was when he and Mary were betrothed, but it's unlikely he was older than 30, just as it's unlikely she was older than 18.

So maybe that's not quite as discomfiting as the image of a much older Joseph, but by our modern standards, it's still pedophilia. So what do we make of that? And what did God think of that??

__

I believe it is an act of faith to be troubled by elements of scripture that should be troubling, rather than shrugging them off as being "God's will" just because they're in the Bible. I highly recommend Rachel Held Evans' book Inspired on this topic, which has a whole chapter on grappling with difficult biblical texts (you can read a long passage from it here).

While exploring our emotions and giving them holy space, it is also important to accept that biblical cultures are two thousand or more years old — the ancient world had completely different understandings of morality from us. That doesn't mean we shrug off displays of sexism or xenophobia in scripture — bigotry is bigotry, whether an ancient iteration or what we have today — but learning about biblical cultures enriches our understanding of why certain things, like slavery or women having little say in whom they marry, are present in the Bible (and often completely taken for granted by its human authors). It can help us distinguish between what is truly God-ordained, versus what the humans writing down their experience of God presume is God-ordained.

I appreciate how womanist theologian Wil Gafney explores the complexity of appreciating the Bible as an ancient human text while looking for Divine truth "between the lines":

“There is liberation in the gospel even though it is sometimes obscured by the structures of power that benefit from holding people captive. There is also a story in and between the lines of and behind the text we hold so dear that points to a liberation that not even the authors and editors of scripture were able to see clearly or, see their way to record.

Jesus was a rabbi, he would have never wanted us to cling to the letters and syntax of these texts as though they were his very body and blood but rather, his spirit and the Spirit of God, blow through them, ruffling and disturbing them and permitting us to read new truths in and out of them and, not lose sight of the ancient stories that are also part of our shared heritage."

___

When it comes to Mary's young age when betrothed to Joseph and approached by Gabriel to request her "yes" to carrying God's child, your question of God's "role" in that is a vital one to ask.

In Mary's world, a woman without a kyrios, a man to be her protector, was in a very precarious position. Mary has to be betrothed to someone in her teens. We don't know whether God "approves" of this cultural practice, but we can see how God works within this custom to ensure Mary's security throughout her life:

when Joseph plans to divorce her after she becomes pregnant with Jesus, God sends an angel to persuade him to stick by her;

when Jesus is dying on the cross, he ensures that his beloved will protect Mary after he's gone.

Throughout scripture, God largely seems to operate within a people's cultural expectations (with key exceptions, like how God insists Their people treat foreigners the same as members of the group, or when God warns against giving the people a king just because that's what all the other nations have). That's what I see here. Mary must have a husband to be secure in her culture, and I imagine God ensuring that that husband will be one who will treat her well.

__

Then there's the question of God espousing Mary — of the Holy Spirit "overshadowing" her so that she conceives Jesus. What exactly is this "overshadowing" act? Why is God getting a teen girl pregnant?

Again, Rev. Wil Gafney provides words that wrestle out the good news with this complexity. When reading Luke 1, she urges us to sit with our distress at the image of a powerful "male" figure (Gabriel) approaching a teen girl to tell her what's going to happen to her body:

"Sit with me in this moment, this uncomfortable moment, before rushing to find proof of her consent, or argue that contemporary notions of consent do not apply to ancient texts, or God knew she’d say yes so it was prophetic, or contend that (human) gender does not apply to divine beings, Gabriel or God, and the Holy Spirit is feminine anyway. Hold those thoughts and just sit in the moment with this young woman."

Our distress is holy; it shows our connection to a fellow human being, our thirst for justice. Honor what you feel, don't discard your emotions, even while you join them to sociohistorical understanding.

I highly recommend you read Gafney's whole article, but here's a little more from it that balances ancient culture with modern ethics:

"Yet in a world which did not necessarily recognize her sole ownership of her body and did not understand our notions of consent and rape, this very young woman had the dignity, courage, and temerity to question a messenger of the Living God about what would happen to her body before giving her consent. That is important. That gets lost when we rush to her capitulation. Before Mary said, “yes,” she said, “wait a minute, explain this to me.” ... Did the Ever-Blessed Virgin Mary say, “me too?” Perhaps not. A close reading shows her presumably powerless in every way but sufficiently empowered to talk back to the emissary of God, determine for herself, and grant what consent she could no matter the power of the One asking. And yet in that moment after being told by someone else what would happen to her body, she became not just the Mother of God, but the holy sister to those of us who do say, “Me too.” "

Because Mary was a teen girl, an impoverished Palestinian Jew living under empire, she can extend solidarity to people across all time who experience similar oppression, whose bodily autonomy is equally precarious. Just as her son, God in human flesh, extends solidarity to all who have ever been arrested or executed under an unjust state through his crucifixion. Divine power is expressed in and through those whom the world denigrates and discards — that's why God chose Mary, and why Mary in turn chose God.

Sorry this got so long and has a lot of complex stuff to wrestle with. I honor your courage to ask the hard questions, and I hope you are able to take time throughout Advent to keep pondering! There are no easy answers, but wrestling can yield a blessing.

[nayialovecat]

The Ink Demonth 2023 - Day 12. Angel

Day 12. Angel Crossover: W.I.T.C.H. (comics) This could be true, if it weren't for the fact that Joey is probably canonically gay (but I'm not sure if it's a fact).

And now a bit of history. Comics W.I.T.C.H. in Poland were published for about ten years from 2002 and were extremely important to me. I bought this newspaper from the first to the last issue - I skipped maybe 3-4 issues when I was on vacation and couldn't find a shop that had the current press (I'll fill these holes someday). For me, this series was extremely important and played a big role for many reasons - firstly, it was how I learned to draw human figures and my style still somewhat resembles the style of W.I.T.C.H. Secondly - reading this comic coincided with the moment when I first started to suffer from depression and reading about magic, about friendship that works and that friends don't stab you in the back - made it easier for me to cope with reality. Finally, thirdly - I was then very into magic and I was looking for it in a more interesting form than the one presented in Harry Potter (where magic, by the way, is very boring and monothematic). In each issue, apart from the next part of the comics, there were interesting horoscopes from different parts of the world, methods of fortune telling and interesting facts about various magical things. This was the beginning of my collection of myths, spells, creatures and magical plants. But then the comic stopped being published, and then that nasty French series came out, which is one big abomination - and I completely forgot about W.I.T.C.H. for many, many years... But then, some time ago, my dad, who was cleaning out my old room (where he has his "office"), found a huge pile of my magazines and decided to bring them to me - among them were all my issues of W.I.T.C.H. magazine. When my daughter saw it, she was immediately delighted and asked if I could read it to her. Reading comics is difficult and unattractive to the listener, so I thought she would get boring quickly - but no... we're halfway through the first saga (about Merdian) and Ursa keeps asking for more. And when I read it to her, I take a sentimental journey back to my childhood, I'm moved again by the stories, I laugh at the jokes, I discover that I look at the characters differently, but like them the same, although for completely different things.

That's why I decided to include such an important element that made me who I am now in this year's Ink Demonth - and the slogan Angel seemed more than appropriate. Interestingly, the previous entry also fit here, and in order to include the Phantom of the Opera, I had to find another place for it, because - yes - it lost to W.I.T.C.H. However, this inconspicuous comic book for teenagers had a greater impact on me, my character, interests and who I am today - than the musical I saw several years ago or the book I read only this year. Sad but true.

I must admit that I had fun drawing and colouring this. And if someone asks: my favourite character is Will - not only because she is redhead and is (like me) a Capricorn, but many threads from her story were similar to mine. This hasn't changed. However, today I look more kindly at Cornelia, whom I once disliked, and a little less favorably at Irma, whom I once liked very much (the way she treats Martin at the beginning is terrible). While drawing them, I realized how unfairly Hay Lin is treated - her guardian outfit is the worst and least highlights her charms. However, after upgrading the outfits, she gains the most, while Cornelia's and Will's outfits are terrible. By the way, Taranee, what did they do to your hair, tell me? By the way, it was even fun to do something similar to the SATIM comic - was this comic always so electric yellow? It was very difficult for me to adapt to this...

Bendy and the Ink Machine (c) Joey Drew Studios Inc. W.I.T.C.H. (c) Disney Italy Sammy and the Ink Machine (c) Nayia Lovecat