#seperation between church and state

[cosmosnout]

Fuck it we ball, golden route were they all team up and rule over Fódlan together. Canon won’t let them be happy and alive together so I have to do it (+ soldier,poet,king reference since it’s literally them)

[chaotic-history]

This one history book (basically apush review book...) is being such a bitch to Roger Williams for literally no reason.

Ma'am I believe the "imaged impurities" you're referring to are called religious persecution and the lack of seperation of church and state, along with, oh idk, murdering natives, and I can assure you those were all very real and also things that deserve to be "denounced in extreme terms".

Anyway fuck this and also fuck the fact that no one recognises Williams' contributions? I don't think my US history class even mentioned him. Anyway if you don't know who he is, he was writing in demand of seperation of church and state and consent of the governed in damn near those exact words while John Locke was 12, and in 1636 he established in Providence a democratic society based on the idea that the power comes from people, not from God, with complete religious toleration for *any* religion or lack thereof, where church and state were strictly seperate, and Williams firmly believed throughout his entire life that the Native Americans were in every way equal to the Europeans.

[kenobihater]

javert is WRONG: the thesis of les mis is that legality and morality aren't synonymous!

i just found the internet's most unbelieveably dogshit hottake that makes anything woobifying javert written by Die Girlies Auf Tumblr Und Twitter galaxy brained in comparison. rest is below a cut because i got Wordy in my goal of ripping this motherfucker a new one.

The point about “fault” is very important here. Following Rousseau, Hugo believes that the poor become criminals out of necessity. They “fall” (i.e., become poor) and then become morally “degraded.” Therefore, our response to crime should be “charity,” not punishment. This is a classic Romantic view that became the basis for modern liberalism. According to Rousseau, people are basically good and are corrupted by society, committing crime only out of ignorance and desperation; the solution to crime, then, is education and welfare. Christians obviously worry that this view has no place for the doctrine of original sin, and conservatives object to this view because it leaves out personal responsibility for crime.

i know this is a christian publication but the concept of original sin even factoring into criminality and criminal justice genuinely pisses me off. stop forcing your shitty worldview that everyone is popped outta the womb an evil sinner, i beg. the seperation of church and state is a vital part of democracy. also, you can believe people are shaped by society and driven to crime through desperation without taking away personal agency. those two things are not contradictory.

If I am right about the Rousseau subtext, then Javert is not necessarily a villain; he’s just a conservative, albeit a liberal caricature of a conservative. There are two good examples of a liberal bias in Les Mis. First, notice that Valjean’s position in his society is roughly analogous to an illegal immigrant in our society. When he leaves the prison, Valjean can’t get work because he doesn’t have the right papers. He’s an undocumented worker. In a scene from the musical cut from the film, a farmer allows Valjean to work for him, but then only pays him half as much as the other laborers. The farmer reasons, “You broke the law….Why should you get the same as honest men?”

i've never seen anyone, even javert fans, try and argue he isn't a villain. this is breaking new ground here, folks. it's a hell of an assertion, but it's demonstrably false. jean valjean is the main character. we root for him and wish to see him succeed. javert is hunting him for the entire narrative. thus, he is the antagonist. there may be some moral ambiguity on both their parts, but he structurally is the villain and that is a narrative fact.

next, as an american i am fucking BEGGING on my HANDS and KNEES for other americans to learn about the differing political terms for different countries and times if they are speaking about them with any supposed credibility. i'm not asking you to memorize every country's parties and political intricacies, but at least acknowledge that even if there is some overlap between 21st century american conservatism and 19th century french politics, that there is no one-to-one analogy!! modern american christian conservatism is a consequence of hundreds of years of unique geopolitics and religion stewing together, and you can say similar things about french politics of the time! you CANNOT just say shit like "javert is a liberal caricature of a conservative" without sounding like an utter clown because hugo was not an american liberal and javert is not an american conservative. now, if you were to alter your language a bit and say something like "javert is a leftist caricature of an arch-conservative," you'd sound less foolish (hugo's politics are hard to pin down but leftist is i believe the best label for him at the time of LM's publication. and to my understanding javert isn't really a fervent arch-conservative but it is at least a plausible reading bc he's a traditionalist, deeply religious cop and 19th century french arch-conservativism actually existed in 19th century france (shocker, i know!)). but that change in language would require actual intellect and effort to learn about other times, places, and worldviews on the part of the author, and judging by his ignorant politics, something tells me he's lacking that!

then there's the bit about illegal immigration. hoo BOY is this fucking stupid. jean valjean is a white, culturally catholic, working class french male citizen. he's an everyman of the time, his name and story of class struggle couldn't be more generic unless he was named john doe or jean dupont (the french equivalent) from nowheresville, france. hugo had a point here, and that is that as a member of the wretched poor, les misérables, valjean, representing a large swath of the french populace, is so removed from education and self reflection and truly living life that he's more akin to an animal or an object, that he's so beat down by the daily grind that he verges on inhuman. this is only magnified by his time in toulon. i'll stop there, but it is very important in jean valjean's story that he's impoverished, yes, but a french citizen. he is as french as the king, but treated like dirt because of his social status and criminal record. this sets up a dichotomy in the france of 1832 between the wretched poor and those with privilege, which is an important part of the novel.

the issue of "illegal immigration" both in france and america is a modern one. there was still bigotry and xenophobia, obviously, but the discourse around the intersections of border control, the nation state, and citizenship is a very modern one. to say "valjean's position in his society is roughly analogous to an illegal immigrant in our society" is ignorant. yes, both jean valjean and many undocumented immigrants are faced with similar abuses, but that does not mean it's intended by hugo to be a reading of the text or political commentary because let me restate this: 21ST CENTURY AMERICAN POLITICS DIDN'T EXIST IN 19TH CENTURY FRANCE!

also, valjean is the opposite of undocumented. he has his yellow papers, which are quite literally documents that are the root cause of the daily discrimination he faces, hence why him ripping them up is a radical act of freeing himself from the control of an unjust state. i don't even know how you miss this, it's stressed in the movie musical multiple times.

“Men like you can never change,” he tells Valjean. But Javert is not simply being prejudiced here. He knows from his own experience that it is possible for the poor to pull themselves up by their bootstraps. Javert, too, was born in poverty. He is “from the gutter,” as he puts it, but he embraced law and made something of himself.

oh, of course the bootstraps ideology rears its ugly head. not even gonna waste my breath on this one other than to call it stupid and wrong. all javert made himself was a class traitor and a bootlicker, and that's honestly tragic.

Consider a second example of liberal bias. The character of Fantine is designed to elicit the viewer’s sympathy for “welfare mothers.” Fantine, a young, unwed mother in Valjean’s factory, faces persecution from her coworkers. The factory foreman expresses a conservative attitude toward charity: “At the end of the day, you get nothing for nothing.”

this part. this part was so unbelievably cruel and so far removed from the empathy that this narrative bleeds that i had to step back from writing this and take a smoke break. firstly, fantine is NOT a stand in for "welfare mothers", which is, once again, a modern conservative strawman! the welfare state did not exist in 19th century france. there was little to no support for mothers in fantine's position, and to my knowledge, none stemming from the state. hugo was writing her character to bring to light the unfairness of her position. she had a lover who left her flat out, with a child to care for and no financial support. she was ostracized, eventually fired, and resorted to survival sex work.

Fantine shouldn’t expect special treatment, but rather should take responsibility for the consequences of her own sexual license.

fuck you, john. where in the text did she ask for "special treatment". where in the text did she do ANYTHING but take responsibility for her child. she sold her hair. she sold her teeth. she sold her body. she got sick because of her living conditions. she died. all out of love for her child. also, framing children as "a consequence" is disgusting, and you should be ashamed of yourself and reflect on why you think that's an alright way to view a living, breathing, human being. if you don't wanna take my word for it, psalm 127:3 clearly states "children are a gift from the lord; they are a reward from him," so your stance is decidedly unbiblical. children aren't punishment.

Likewise, when Fantine turns to prostitution to feed her child, Javert is unmoved by excuses. Valjean’s family was starving, and Fantine’s daughter was sick, but these facts don’t excuse them for breaking the law. Theft and prostitution are wrong, and it is Javert’s duty as police officer to arrest them.

how is theft to feed a starving child immoral. how is sex work to ensure your child lives immoral. give me ONE reason aside from your and javert's religious worldviews that either of those things is wrong. "but the bread didn't belong to valjean!" and would inaction, watching his nephew die simply because a windowpane and empty pockets separated him from a piece of bread be more moral? is watching a child die when you believe you can save them the better option? the whole point of this damn book is that legality is NOT synonymous with morality. javert may have the legal high ground, but he does NOT have the moral high ground, and when he realizes this, the thesis of the book, he fucking kills himself! for an example outside the text to perhaps get it through your thick skull: slavery was legal. biblical, even! does that mean it's morally right? no!

Thus Les Mis is designed to get us to see Javert’s conservatism as cruel and to elicit sympathy for Hugo’s liberal social policies. It should be noted, however, that Les Mis is a caricature of the conservative position. Conservatives agree that we ought to treat the poor with dignity and compassion. They think that compassion programs, however, should be administered by the church instead of the state, and they think true dignity requires personal responsibility and submission to the law.

how can javert both be an exaggerated, cruel conservative caricature and be right? i'd argue he's both an accurate portrayal of the inherent cruelty and misanthropy present in the politics of the political right, and that he's decidedly wrong as proven in the text. jean valjean is a good man, despite it all, but javert couldn't see that because of his worldview and chose to relentlessly hound him until he finally realized his mistake, a realization that overcame him so strongly that his only solution in his mind was to kill himself!

and do conservatives actually agree they should treat the poor with dignity and respect? it's in the bible, sure, which christian conservatives hold as the absolute truth, but in this very article you, a christian conservative, have expressed nothing but contempt and cruelty for undocumented immigrants, for unwed mothers, for thieves and sex workers. for les misérables - the wretched poor. and why shouldn't the state handle "compassion programs" as you call them? the gov't is electable and manageable (in theory), unlike the beast of untraceable wealth and power that is the church. we don't live in a theocracy, so the only reliable way to ensure people get the help they deserve is through the state, which can actually be held accountable for these expectations (again, in theory). that's more than you can say for the church.

The fact that Les Mis contradicts evangelical theology does not mean apologists shouldn’t use it—on the contrary. We can help non-Christian fans of the musical see how the vision that draws them toward the story can only be fulfilled in Christ.

his conculsion is LAUGHABLE. personally, the "vision that drew me to the story" at age twelve was my attraction to men. i'm a flaming homosexual, you see, and a transgender one at that. the overwhelming majority of musical theater fans i've encountered are some variety of queer. at age 22, ten years later, i'm drawn to the story still partially because i find these characters attractive and magnetic, but much more so for the literary and socialist political value i find in the narrative. i'm an unrepentant leftist as well, as are literally every other les mis fan i've ever met (besides yourself, of course). i've found more fulfillment through reading les misérables than i have in my exploration of the new testament, and i'm not even done with the book yet!

i don't really know how to conclude this other to point and laugh at john and his publictaion, because somehow i stumbled upon a conservative fan of les mis and the lack of self awareness is more baffling than i could have ever imagined it being

[ladysomething]

Dont know if you keep up with the charlos ship, but there is a new video of carlos manhandling charles like nothing else matters. And we all know how carlos is in all of their pr videos soooo.... i saw that video and imidiatelly thought, omg max will not be happy about that.

(I dont belive in the seperation between church (real life f1) and state (wygig fic).

sorry anon but I am a Carlos-and-Charles-secretly-hate-each-other truther lol. HOWEVER, I do obvi keep up with the Ferrari socials, so are you talking about the video with the person in the VR headset and Carlos trying to keep Charles from interfering?

But also ... yeah Carlos be touchy hahah. the thigh grabbing in particular!!! hot

but you're right. Max would NOT be happy about that shit. although, he does have much bigger reasons to be mad at Carlos 😊

(f1 and wygig are basically one at this point anyway. China collar is exhibit number 1).

[hypercortical]

Without ever playing Fire Emblem: Three Houses, I read a little bit about people debating whether or not Edelgard is a fascist. I came to the conclusion that she's not a fascist. Not textually anyway. Textually she is a radical liberal, in the most literal sense. I've seen some describe her as reflecting Napoleon Bonaparte, which sounds about right to me, altho when I described it to my friends, I called her "if Vladimir Lenin was a liberal". But I also still see ways in which she subtextually seems to have something to do with Nazi's and Fascists. Anyway, I got into a big debate with my friends over this, because they all think she's the perfect hero of the story. So I decided to play the game.

After accidentally making a single mistake that lead me down the church route (silver snow) instead of the edelgard route (crimson flower), I finally just gave up playing the game and decided to watch someone else play the game, and after all that I still cannot see how you can think edelgard is a hero unless you are just totally brainwashed by her interpersonal charm (and she is charming).

My Evaluation: Edelgard is your run of the mill political radical/extremist, whose politics are primarily informed by trauma. This is a very common type of person on both the left and right extremities of politics in online spaces. Her stated goal of bringing peace to the continent through unification, and ending the "crest system" is well intentioned. She genuinely wants what is best for the people (most people anyway). But at the same time she is blinded by her trauma. Her inability to trust leads her down the path of consequential double agentry, dangerous secret keeping, and an absolute lack of any attempt to peacefully resolve the issues she wishes to solve. Furthermore her misplaced hatred for "the children of the goddess" leads her to readily accept false conspiracy theories about them (that the church was responsible for the division of the continent, or that the conflict between the church and King nemesis was just pettiness on the church's end.)

Let me clear up some things:

Claim: Rhea and The Church of Serious are to blame for the inhumane crest experimentation that Edelgard and her family were subject to.

This is mostly false. To the extent that it is true, it is extremely indirect. Rhea did one thing in this causal chain. She told the world that the crests were a gift from the goddess (a lie, as she admits at the end of silver snow). She did not direct the people of the continent to then treat crest bearers as superior beings to non-crest bearers. She did not direct nobility to shun the members of their family born without crests. And she absolutely did not direct people to, or ever indicate that it's okay to, run inhumane experiments on children to give them crests. There may be some confusion as Rhea did do "experimentation" of her own with crests in secret, but these should not be conflated. Characters like byleth did not have the torturous experience that Edelgard had. To be clear, the people who experimented on Edelgard were Those Who Slither in the Dark (TWSITD) and a member of her own house. There's no indication that Rhea even knew terrible experimentation like that was happening. She most likely would have been against it.

Claim: Rhea created the crest system

Just like the last one. Almost entirely false. The crest system is the result of human ideological tendencies that I will later argue she has no more control over than Edelgard does as Emperor of the Adrestian Empire.

Claim: Rhea and the Church were responsible for the division of the continent as part of their plan to control the world.

This is false. The continent was divided when there was a splinter group in the Adrestian Empire who wished to have sovereignty. They were already staking claim to seperate territory. All the church did was recognize their sovereignty. This was the birth of faerghus. Meanwhile, the history books describing the birth of the alliance never even mention Rhea.

Claim: Rhea and the Children of the Goddess never actually cared about humanity.

Demonstrably false. While it is clear that Rhea was obsessed foremost with bringing her mother back to life, there are plenty of instances where she expresses interest in maintaining peace over the continent (this is even the primary function of the monastery academy). But more specifically, at the end of silver snow, after Rhea admits to some of her lies, she accepts that it makes her no longer suited to be a leader. Pretty clear that she was putting the good of the people ahead of herself. Additionally while Rhea was obsessed with resurrection her mother, the other Children of the Goddess had nothing to do with this. They were unaware of her practices. They were never shown to have any ulterior motives.

Claim: Edelgard didn't hate the Children of the Goddess (a minority ethnic group called nabateans, with a history of being genocided) just for being Children of the Goddess. She only hated them insofar as they were controlling the world through the chruch

Highly doubtful. I have several screenshots of Edelgard dehumanizing them for their reptilian nature. And even seeking to kill the youngest one, Flayn, who never had any power in the church.

Here we see evidence that Edelgard sees them as unfit to wield political power, specifically due to the fact that they are a genetically distinct class of people from humans. Despite that they textually share human cognitive, emotional, and personality traits, and are only differentiated by the fact that their true form is of a large reptilian. She refuses to grant them equal personhood within society.

Further evidence that she specifically has an issue with Nabateans having control. You could say it's that she doesn't want anyone to control the world. But actually you can't say that because she intends to become the Emperor of the whole "world" (as they know it).

And even more evidence. (That's Flayn btw. Practically a child when considering the aging and maturation of Nabateans is slower than humans, and explicitly coded as such. She never had any political power.)

I don't have the screenshot I wanted to show of her gearing up to kill Flayn. It's separated from the image above. Basically, in the Crimson Flower route, there is a battle at the monastery. Flayn is present and asks Edelgard to fuck off and leave them alone. Edelgard, the angel she is, responds by saying "no, I'm going to fucking kill you". Ok that's not an exact quote. She says "I'm going to put you out of your misery". But in this context, it's the same thing. In the crimson Flower Route, Seteth and Flayn only survive because they flee and go into hiding. Their survival is not for a lack of trying on Edelgard's side. In case anyone was still doubting the genocidal nature of Edelgard's work. Hey, I've got some more claims to go over

Claim: Edelgard, with her crimson flower route, is the only one capable of defeating TWSITD in the end

I don't know how many people actually believe this, but this is something I was told by my friends that is blatantly false. Specifically the claimed that the narration at the end tells us that Edelgard defeated them later. This is not true. The narration at the end says that now that she's done conquering the continent and reforming the nobility/crest system, she can focus on taking out TWSITD. It doesn't say she did. But that now she can go after them. FURTHERMORE, the church of Seiros is able to defeat them, seemingly definitively, at the end of the Silver Snow route. So yeah.

Claim: The Church was indoctrinating people into the ideology of the crest system through the monastery academy

Evidence of this? None as far as I can tell. During the first phase of the game where we work as a professor at the church, there is really no indication at all that the students are being taught to worship crest bearers as superior beings. Or anything like that.

Claim: The influence of the church is so great, that it would be impossible or prohibitively difficult for Edelgard to change the culture and reform the way people think about crest-nobility, as long as the church was still around

This certainly seems like a strong argument, especially if you think the church has a vested interest in maintaining the status of nobility as crest bearers. Unfortunately, Edelgard herself undermines this theory. First, let's take for granted that the church genuinely does want to maintain this crest-nobility ideology. If the church's influence is really so insurmountable, then why is Edelgard able to change the minds of the nobility in her empire and turn them against the church? In crimson flower she simply states that she sends a manifesto out to all the nobility of the Adrestian Empire. And just like that she has a full Empire supporting her in her fight against the church and against the use of crests. It would then seem the church has no recourse other than military strength to control the people and scare people into staying believers in the crests. And yet Edelgard was able to practically eliminate the church, even before conquering the rest of the continent, and even without using the ICBMs of TWSITD. It's almost as if, Edelgard could have simply put a bit of effort into advertising her manifesto across the 3 kingdoms, and then had a force that the church could not have possibly retaliated against. But now consider all that, but if the church had no interest in maintaining this crest-nobility ideology. It would be even easier. A smooth ride. Now, Edelgard did make an enemy of the church with her manifesto, but not because of her rejection of the crest-nobility ideology. Rather because she was painting Rhea as some evil deceiver and shit. If Edelgard was a little less diplomatically challenged, I'd expect her to maybe try and talk to people before plunging the continent into war. Especially since we see other nobility expressing contempt for the crest-nobility system. It's not like Edelgard was the only one seeing it's problems. And again, if the church has such impenetrable ideological indoctrination, why are we shown other leaders like Dimitri speaking against it. Why do they feel comfortable being heard speaking against it? Even Rhea herself may have been willing to disavow the practice of non-meritocratic nobility. She never expressed a desire to keep that form of government among the kingdoms. As an archbishop she was pretty hands off when it came to domestic politics like that. She was just concerned with the international politics of the continent. But we'll never really know because Edelgard couldn't be bothered to fucking ask anyone or try to convince anyone of anything. She just had to go and kill stuff.

Claim: Edelgard is a Nazi/fascist

Textually, literally, no. This is an indefensible position if you are familiar with the tenets of fascism. The ultraconservative, the strong gender roles, whatever Umberto echo's 14 points were. In reality, Edelgard expresses a belief in liberal ideals like meritocracy and seemingly democracy down the line, or at least republicanism. Which in the feudalist context, is very progressive there is however, a bit of support for the idea that she is subtextually meant to reference Nazi/fascist movements. For example, Edelgard's desire to reestablish the past greatness of the Adrestian Empire, simultaneously reflects the goal of the Italian Fascists and Nazi Germany. First of all, the history is that Germany was greatly weakened and has land taken from them after WW1, and so many nationalists in Germany wanted to return to greatness. The Italian fascist project revolved around the palingenetic ultranationalism of returning to the greatness of the Roman empire. I Say Edelgard reflects both because the flag of the Adrestian Empire is very clearly matched with the eagle of the Holy Roman Empire

Meanwhile Edelgard's Black Eagle flag almost perfectly matches the Eagle of the Reichstag, founded during Weimar Germany, and continuing operation through Nazi Germany

(the black eagle flag also has the Nazi colors, but I won't worry about that too much)

Additionally, Edelgard is a non-democratically elected leader (like Hitler). She became a leader very suddenly and unexpectedly (like Hitler). She believes in unsubstantiated conspiracy theories about a religious minority ethnic group (like Hitler). Her conspiracy theories about this ethnic group involve the belief that they have some near insurmountable power over all of society (like Hitler). She dehumanizes the members of this group, calling them "creatures" instead of people (like Hitler). She resolves that the only way to end the harm done to the world by this ethnic group is to kill them (like Hitler). There's also the reptilian bit, which has nothing to do with Hitler, but conspiracy theories about reptilians ruling the world are often thought to be thinly veiled anti-Semitic tropes. It would be easy to believe the creators of the game were playing into this to further the symbolism around Edelgard. Additionally the group already has a history of genocide. It's hard to imagine the creators just didn't realize they were making all these parallels.

Claim: Rhea made byleth and emotionless killing machine

Byleth obviously isn't emotionless. They're able to have meaningful relationships with characters throughout the game. The whole thing about the combination of the sword of the creator and the crest of flames or whatever making it's wielder corrupt was totally made up by the church, as stated by both Rhea and Edelgard. In actuality, Nemesis was already a shithead who was hunting down the children of the goddess to turn them into relics. But if the church tells people that, then everyone in the world will know that you can make relics out of death Nabateans. Which is obviously concerning

Claim: Rhea actually totally is the evilest because she burned down a town full of civilians.

This one is somewhat ambiguous. I can see how others would interpret it this way, but I absolutely did not. From what I saw, Rhea gave an order to set fire to the capital town during a siege. Explicitly, soldiers were shown in the town. You could make the assumption that people were still chilling in their homes, but I find that very odd. I would absolutely expect the village to be evacuated. Otherwise, there are numerous other scenes in the game where Edelgard is haphazardly invading towns full of citizens. Additionally I kinda feel like that was an out of character game of thrones type moment for her. Very reminiscent of that dragon lady burning everything down in the last season of game of thrones. It felt like a last minute change to make it feel a little less cruel when you go and murder her with Edelgard. Because in pretty much every other route in the game, she's like, not even a little shitty. It's be hard to imagine feeling good about hunting her down like that.

One of the things that really struck me about Crimson Flower when I Compared it with Silver Snow, is that the tone is darker. Like the vibes are atrocious. Every time you kill an important character in any route, you get an extended camera shot of their dead body, occasionally with dramatic music. Or sometimes not. But the characters always say their last words as they die. For other routes the characters just kinda say something generic like "auugh, so this is how I go out?" Or occasionally they even say "damn, I never should have sided with the empire" (edelgard's empire). But on the Crimson Flower route the dramatic music plays way more often, and the characters are always saying stuff to make you feel guilty like "nooo, how could you do this to us". Along with that, Dorothea occasionally says something like "wow all this violence sucks, I wonder if there's a better way we could have gone about this", and then Petra is like "shut the fuck up, nerd!", Then the blue hair guy is like "fuck yeah, I can't wait to kill people". Yeah, I just think a lot about that route is meant to make you feel like the bad guy.

[faceless-dreamer]

Radagon and the Rune of Order

I wanted to make this post for a while.

Radagon is one of the most interesting characters in Elden Ring but we don’t know this much about him actually.

Who is he? At this point everyone knows that he is Marika.

But was he always? Was he a separate person at the beginning? Was he ever a human?

My theory is that he is in fact NOT.

But let us start at the beginning. We will look at the entire known history of him and then try to connect the pieces.

Radagon appears almost out of nowhere. He was described as a champion that waged a war with Liurnia. As one of the sword memorials say: The First Liurnian War Radagon's glory burns red as his hair The war waged for quite a long time that it was considered “a second war”: The Second Liurnian War No victory for the golden, nor for the moon No prize but atonement; the birth of a vow Carian Queen Rennala and Radagon fell in love, married in the church of vows and the war ended. Radagon moved in with his new wife and had three children: Rykard, Radahn and Ranni. He also started learning sorcery. As the husband of Rennala of Caria, the red-haired Radagon studied sorcery, and as the husband of Queen Marika, he studied  incantations. Thus did the hero aspire to be complete

At the same time Marika waged a war with Giants where in her name fought Godfrey. When all the Fire Giants except one were dead, Godfrey lost his grace and together with other tarnished, was banished from the Lands between.

And let us consider something for a moment. What qualifications do you need to become the ruler of Lands between?

From what people collected it appears that to become the Ruler of Land Between you need to fulfill three conditions:  - Be and emphyrean - “someone born of one god”, - Have a Shadow - thus also be chosen by the Greater Will, because the Fingers are the one to create such shadow (according to Ranni’s questline), - Have a consort - who becomes then Elden Lord.

Let’s take a look at the last condition.  Marikas royal consort was Godrey. But he was banished. This meant that she needed a new consort to remain at her position. We know that Radagon left Rennala and married Marika becoming the second Elden Lord. They then had twins: Miquella and Malenia. The next important thing on the timeline, I belive is the Night of the Black Knives and shattering of the Elden Ring.

There are many theories o WHY Marika shattered the Ring, but we won’t focus on that.

We know that at this point Radagon and Marika are the same person. We can see this in trailers and opening intro when they shift from one person to another.

According to Marikas hammer description: Stone hammer made in the lands of the Numen, outside the Lands Between. The tool with which Queen Marika shattered the Elden Ring and Radagon attempted to repair it.

Marika was trying to destroy, while Radagon save. Even thought they shared a body hey still remained seperate in intentions. So the Ring is shattered and Marika (together with Radagon) is locked inside the Erdtree, and the entry is sealed with thorns.

The last time we see him is during his bossfight, where we see the shift between him and Marika. After defeating him, the Elden Beast emerges and used the corpse of Radagon as a sword.

So with Radagons history generally covered, we can start theorizing.

As I said at the very beginning I don’t believe that Radagon is real human. Radagon is in fact part of the Elden Ring, the Rune of Order itself. And I will try to prove it.

First thing that gave me this idea: Radagon is Marika. Marika is the Elden Ring. It was never stated where Radagon came from. Some people theorized that he might be part giants basing on the “Giant’s Red Braid” description: Hefty whip woven from the flame-red hair of a Fire Giant.Every giant is red of hair, and Radagon was said to have despised his own red locks. Perhaps that was a curse of their kind.

It is indeed suspicious that Radagon was mentioned in this item basically for now reason and if he was kin to the giant’s then it would make more sense, but I don’t think this is the case. First of all I believe that Radagon also waged a war with Giant’s on Marika’s orders with Godfrey, and during that time giant’s cursed him and turned his hair red. Later he was called to wage a war with Liurnia and yada yada, I talked about this at the very beginning. Now you would ask: what was his original hair colour? I answer you: blond, just like Queen Marika.  Now, I know you are probably lost. Let us get back on track. This is Radagon’s symbol:

a nice crisscross pattern, that we can also see as background in his statues

But you know where else we can see this pattern? On the thors that block out way to Erdtree

I think it’s pretty obvious that Radagon was the one to ensure that we don’t enter. But why? We will come to that. Oh you think this is everything of this pattern? You are wrong. We can see it in one other place. Where you ask?

On the Elden ring itself. Some may argue that this cross pattern was added later when Radagon married Marika or became part of her. And I will not argue back. It could be a possibility. It is a theory in the end and has some plot holes. One of them actually is in Malekieth’s boss arena where Elden Ring looks completely different and lacks the pattern.

And honestly I don’t really have and explaination for that. But one day I will get an idea to explain it.

But anyway.

This pattern is very geometrical, holding other great runes in this orderly and symmetrical manner. Like... It is making sure that Elden Ring stays in perfect order.

Now, I belive I should explain, why Radagon came to be at all.

I am one of the believers of theory, that Marika was trying to usurp Greater Will and release the Land Between from its power. And the Greater Will knew something is up. This is why it created Radagon. It was supposed to keep Marika in check. Making sure everything is in order (no, I will not get bored of this joke). This new being as part of the Elden Ring that was Marika herself, became seperate. Marika used this being to wage war on Giants, who felt that something was very not right with this guy and cursed him. Radagon then later was sent to Liurnia to fight with Caria, fell in love with Rennala had kids and everyone is happy. Until Godfrey was banished.  Marika needed new consort. She needed someone powerful to take the place of Elden Lord. So Radagon was chosen to become one. Or maybe it was Greater Will that demanded it? Who knows. He left Rennala leaving her the Great Rune of Unborn and married Marika. Some time later, maybe after Miquella left with his sister to create a Haligtree , maybe earlier, Marika started making bigger plans about her rebelion form the Outer God. And Greater Will didn’t like that. So It decided to connect Marika with Radagon into one person. 24/7 surveillance, she won’t be able to hide anything, and if it comes to any trouble, Radagon will be able to hop in and stop her. As we know already, it didn’t really work out, as the Elden Ring was shattered anyway. But Radagon wasn’t over with his job. Elden Beast crucified Marika and so the wait for the Tarnished whou would fix the Elden Ring began. This is where the player comes in. the grace leads us, we collect the Great Runes and make our way to Leyndell. The Greater Will watches out every step, and doesn’t like what it sees. So It orders Radagon to block the path to the Erdtree with impenetrable thorns, which can be destroyed only with Giant’s Flame and Rune of Death unleashed.

The Erdtree now burns. The Gideon tries to stop the protagonist but he fails. It’s only Godfrey on our way to the Elden Ring.

The grace shows him that we are a threat. We are both obstacles for each other, and only one can survive and claim the throne. the battle is over. Tarnished walks into the light, right to the Erdtree. Queen Marika is waiting, but Radagon cannot let us mend the Ring. He is The Radagon of the Golden Order, the agent of the Greater Will who won’t let us claim the throne.

But he is defeated. He falls to the ground, darkness covering his body, from which emerges a cosmic hand of the Elden Beast. It uses Radagon as a weapon once more as it forges him into a sword. But the God fails anyway, and we become the Lord.

Tl:DR: Radagon was personification of Rune of Order who was created to make sure Marika doesn’t step out of line.

[springatito-moved]

hey remember how there was supposed to be a seperation between church and state.

[locustheologicus]

Inequality For All

The issue of poverty and economic justice has always been part of the Church's social concern. Not only is this with regards to the publication of Rerum Novarum and the birth of Catholic social teaching when Pope Leo XIII shared the Church's concern regarding the plight of workers and the rights they should have. This social concern goes right to the time of Jesus who saw it as his responsibility to heal and feed those who were poor and marginalized.

The YouTube movie by Robert Reich, "Inequality For All," goes into the economic history of the United States reviewing the policies that allowed us to grow the middle class in America from 1947 to 1979. It then looks into the shift and pro-corporate and anti-poverty policies that had the opposite affect, what the graph below calls "the Great Regression."

There are a number of posts that I have developed that goes into this issue, both from the Catholic concern and from the standpoint of economic policies. These include:

Why Inequality Persist in America (with links to past posts)

USCCB on Income Inequality

The Global Solidarity Fund, a Christian Economic Model

The simple point that has to made (over and over again it seems) is that the social programs we had after World War II, the economic model that was based on a Keynsian capitalist system (which people will now erroneously call socialism/communism), is when we experience a booming economiy that helped develop the middle class.

Just to clarify a definition: The keynsian capitalist system generally advocated for a regulated market economy. The proposed regulations focused on the corruptive activity of the private sector and it allows the government to have an active role as it intervenes during recessions and depressions. Recognizing that an unregulated market economy can, and has become, volatile and unstable this can be mitigated by economic policy responses coordinated between government and central bank. In particular, fiscal policy actions taken by the government and monetary policy actions taken by the central bank, can help stabilize economic output, inflation, and unemployment over the business cycle.

Pope Francis has expressed the concern about this as a global economic phenomenon which is why he has been promoting the Economia De Francesco Model to reveiw this push to deregulate the global economy and to widen the gap between the wealth minority (the 1%) and the rest of us.

While the income of a minority is increasing exponentially, that of the majority is crumbling. This imbalance results from ideologies which uphold the absolute autonomy of markets and financial speculation, and thus deny the right of control to States, which are charged with providing for the common good. A new, invisible and at times virtual, tyranny is established, one which unilaterally and irremediably imposes its own laws and rules.

The Preferential Option for the Poor is the Catholic principle that always places economic injustice in check. Bishop Barron offers a good articulation of this principle in this other post.

The movie link is below but I think you have to open this on a seperate window. The movie was made ten years ago but the research is still very relevant as it defends the need to promote the socio-economic policies we desperately need to promote a middle class economy.

If the link does not work place this on a webpage: https://youtu.be/zvAFPHLFMa0?si=CtXlItq45bfsEkUb

[wonderandwanderinginmexicocity]

Benito Juárez: Hero of Oaxaca

"Men are nothing. Principles are everything." -Benito Juárez

When I was in Oaxaca, I noticed that many places and streets were named after two native sons of the state: Benito Juárez and Porfirio Díaz. Díaz is, at best, a complicated figure in retrospect, a bloody dictator that did much to modernize Mexico and bind it together into a modern nation-state, but who's rule was so oppressive it brought about the Mexican Revolution. Benito Juárez, on the other hand, is almost universally admired and celebrated. In the complex and divisive nature of Mexican history and politics, this is no small feat. Today is a national holiday celebrating his birthday. I did not have to work, so I thought I would write about Benny, “The Meritorious of the Americas”.

From the U.S. perspective, it is helpful to try and draw a similar analgous figure for Juárez to understand his importance to the development of Mexico. Being a liberal with progressive ideas and a desire to have a firm seperation between church and state, Benito is in many ways a Mexican Thomas Jefferson. In that he steered the country through an incredibly complex and violent time period, Juárez resembles Abraham Lincoln.

Benito was born in Oaxaca on the twenty-first of March 1806 to Zapotec parents. Being born to indigenous parents in a country that often downplayed indigenous identity may have instilled young Benito with a sense of service whereas other politicians had motivations of gold or glory. "As a son of the people," he once said, "I could never forget that my only goal should be their greater prosperity." He was orphaned at the age of three. As a young man, Juárez considered entering the preisthood but instead studied to become a lawyer, and eventually became involved in local and national politics, culminating in being elected govenor of Oaxaca in 1847. As govenor, he doubled the number of schools in Oaxaca from 50 to 100. Both in local and national office, Benito Juárez was hardworking and honest, and never personally profited from being in politics.

Benito Juárez became a critic of the Santa Anna government, which had just ceded a large tract of land to the United States in the Treaty of Hidalgo. When the Conservatives took power again, Juárez was forced to go north into exile. He worked at a cigarette factory in New Orleans in semipoverty.

Juárez was both a progressive and a modernizer. He believed that the only thing that could help Mexico and her poor would be to update the national economy, and that meant freeing the means of production from the Catholic Church and the landed aristocracy. Politically, Benito was a liberal, in that he believed Mexico needed a constitution that guaranteed certain individual rights and a federal system that granted individual states within Mexico some autonomy.

The moment came for Juárez to put his dreams into action when the liberals took control of the national government in 1855, and Benito joined as the minister for justice. As minister, he worked tirelessly to bring about the permanent seperation of church and state. Church property was nationalized, exempting only those buildings actually used for worship and instruction. To weaken the powerful Catholic clergy that meddled in Mexican politics, Juárez also nationalized the cemeteries and put birth registrations and marriages under government authority.

In 1861, Juárez officially became president of Mexico. There was no honeymood period of peace and calm, because there were several major issues that threatened the new president: Conservative forces that were against the reforms of Benito Juárez were still organized and politically dangerous, the new Congress distrusted the president, and the national treasury was basically empty. At the time of Juárez's inauguration, Mexico was deeply in debt to several European nations. Sensing an opportunity to recreate the French dream of an empire in the Americas, Napoleon III invaded Mexico in 1862. His plan was to indirectly rule Mexico through a puppet ruler, Archduke Maximilian of Austria. The Mexican forces had a great victory on May 5, 1862, but with reinforcements the French army was able to occupy the capital of Mexico City the following year, allowing the Austrian archduke to sit upon his throne.

These were difficult times for Benito Juárez and his forces. They were fighting a strong and determined enemy, but they too were equally determined to fight because the future of the Mexican state depended on them. To survive to fight another day meant that the war was not over, and that hope was still alive. After retreating all the way north to the United States border (to a place that would later be renamed Juárez), the tide began to turn in the favor of the Mexican forces. Due to international pressure and Mexican resistance, Napleon III withdrew his troops from Mexico. Maximilian, the foreigner who tried to claim the throne of Mexico, was caught, tried, and shot. Benito Juárez was president again.

There is much more that could be said about this great man. This was not meant to be an exhaustive list of the life and times of the first indigenous president of modern Mexico. I am sure books have been written about short periods of his life. HIs liberal ideas, economic reforms and calls for federal and constitutional government were progressive and forward thinking, and Mexico would eventually embrace and live out these ideas to the present day. His wisdom and lack of personal corruption made him one of the rarest things: A poltician it is easy to admire. His leadership and courage against the French made him a national hero.

On this day, we remember and honor Benito Juárez and his service and sacrifice for the people of Mexico. May we have politicians like him at all times in all places.

[roguevexvoid]

You don't think a human born to a god who later ascended to godhood himself due to his actions would have been familiar to pagans during that time? Or a god that was once human that as human had faults and anger issues? Or a god that was once human that stood between a superior god and humanity on the side of humanity? Those were all important parts to Christianity from the beginning

Again, superficial similarities. Lots of things have superficial similarities. Most conversions in Europe happened as a result of it being enforced as a state sanctioned religion while uniting/consolidating territories.

The Church did in some ways attempt to make conversion easier by applying Christian meaning to pagan holidays (most well known example being Samhain and All Souls day, which would eventually merge into Halloween proper) so that the common folk largely were still able to have similarly timed/themed holidays and incorporate long held folk traditions into them.

Sometimes Saints or Angels were superimposed onto old gods and spirits over time.

And there are common themes and throughlines in stories/mythologies/folktale/ect across the world, because humans are humans are humans (think of how many different "Cinderella" or "Beauty and the Beast" type stories exist across time and culture. )

The other known way Christianity liked to convert people was, ya know, violently.

Also, let's not pretend like Paganism is some kind of monolith, Pagan is such a fucking general term and how different practices were structured, what was believed about God's and spirits and overall how things worked and were viewed were not consistent across a single country much less the whole of Europe or beyond.

Hellenism is not Kemeticism is not Celtic is not Norse.

Also, just because the Christian God can be recognized as showing signs of imperfection to *us* does NOT mean that that is how it is supposed to be viewed in scripture.

The Christian God is faultless. Jesus, while human, is still innately divine and stated to have no sin. God's anger, jealously, pettiness is portrayed as *correct* and *justified* and *righetous* he knows all, sees all, is present in everyone and everything and everything is part of God's Plan. When we see Jesus angry, it's not portrayed as "anger issues" it is depicted as completely warranted and divinely backed up.

If you've ever read literally any other mythology that is not how the majority of pagan God's are portrayed. And a lot of modern ways of thinking or viewing pagan God's that you might view as similar are because surviving written records were written by Christians *centuries* after conversion (see, The Eddas)

We're there absolutly no similarities at all that might make new converts feel more comfortable? Of course not, and again the church often went out of its way to have similarish holidays at similar times of year. But it's not nearly like you're trying to portray it.

Also, Jesus was not between humanity and a superior God. Jesus was God. Jesus, God and the holy spirit are all different facets of the same being. That's the whole trinity thing, they are the same being, but seperate, but the same.

Also Jesus was born to a (supposedly) virgin who was (supposedly) told by an angel that she would bare the child of God.

God did not have that baby.

You're really, skipping over a lot of the historical contex and cultural nuance here anon

[iomontecillo]

The multitude of examples represented by the families, and pairs, seperated by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, clearly illustrates how law is maneuvered into malpractice when the Superior Lex (higher law) principle is foregone to serve a lesser interest. This Can be identified by the administrative processing, which focuses on administrative structuralism directed toward the family Unit itself and it’s individual members. In practice this is illustrated by the worldview presented to each member as a social structure based on the medieval court, based on the Ottoman harem structure, which was a reproductive (Church) hierarchy - thus characterized by internal conflict between women - motivating the older woman’s Attack on the younger such as described of Mahidevran directed towards Hurem. In those days the political, and legal, responsibilities rested with the tribe/clan, and these groupings would be a combination of genetic and acquired affiliations. However, in the case of refugees, or family-reunifications, which undergo dramatic diaspora in contact with the public system this to an external observer more clearly appears as a form of warfare; especially so when it’s members are drained of indivdiual ressources and then discarded either by expulsion/repatriation or imprisonment. In the case of the professor from yesterday’s article it appears as a clear motive, that the professor was hired short-term, in full knowledge of his interest in sustaining his family, only to retract his invitation and deport his wife and children, leaving only him with ties to the land - but also indivdiually disinfranchised and thereby exploited and betrayed by his own state. This is the common storyline of trafficking, where a citizen/indivdiual is somehow imprisoned on a piece of land to which he/she is given no rights to ownership but disproportionally given responsibility for. This was the case for those who were given the option to Apply for lands from 1919 through the travelling Landlawcouncil - the requirements of which being they were 25+,under 50 and with a considerable liquidity (initial capital). It was called a State Loan, though it experienced as State Bondage. https://www.instagram.com/p/CgbKvu_thhX/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[wedding-shemp]

absolutely infuriating to be condescendingly corrected by the professor when i make a distinction that THE AUTHOR OF THE ONLY BOOK WE ARE READING THIS SEMESTER makes himself!!!!

[not-an-enstarrie]

imagine: your hairdresser is izumi and he doesnt shut up about his motorcycle and makoto

[killerlookz]

Hell Hath No Fury Like a Woman Scorned (Edward Nashton x F! reader) pt. I

description: disgruntled and angry with both her past and the current state of Gotham, reader takes up an extreme devotion to Gotham's violent and bloodthirsty vigilante, the Riddler, whose attention she's desperate to recieve- but this Riddler may be closer to home than she ever expected.| FIC PLAYLIST

content: angst, mostly angst. kind of dismal, reader cries a lot. vaguely graphic descriptions of murder, extreme idol worship/corruption, teen pregnancy/miscarriage, sacrilegious/ blasphemous behavior in regards to the catholic church, guilt, slut shaming?? implied that teenage characters had a sexual encounter/ virginity loss but it is only implied and never explicitly talked about or described, hurt/comfort, fluff!!! i swear there's fluff, first kiss, vomiting/slight emetophobia cheating??? i guess?? non-linear timeline (flashbacks are denoted by bolded italics) 18+, eventual smut!! (pt.ii) im aware this fic deals with delicate topics, if you do not feel comfortable with that, please heed my warnings and do not read.

word count: 13807

a/n: ━ for the sake of not wanting to make this fic 8 years long, it will be seperated into 2 parts, this part, and part two, both released simultaneously. part 2 is the smut counterpart to this fic, as well as just a continuation of the story (not nearly as long as this though)!!!━

"I love you and watched you, someone, that I knew. You’re ruined and it's cool."

There was very little you could ever do to remedy the constant ache of childhood. The long since passed memories of a decaying building and crumbling sense of self-worth were a persistent stinging that sat in every crack and corner of your being. The pain lingered despite most of the past feeling like a grainy, overexposed photograph- there's just enough there to make something out, but not quite enough for a clear picture.

There seemed very little to do to ever cure this hurt, very little until you found him.

Hushed whispers between your closest circles of friends had piqued your curiosity. Friends that knew, that understood that perpetual despair, friends that also wanted to do something about that anguish that lived in their bones. Their morbid chatter had gotten the best of you, and your interest in this change that they spoke of had led you to a peculiar part of the internet. A part of the internet that was dark, and dreadful, one that you are sure would get you put on some sort of list if you weren't careful.

And that's where you found him.

The Riddler.

The first time you'd stumbled upon one of his videos you instantly shut your computer the moment he appeared on the screen, his horrific masked appearance a stark reminder of just how far you'd let your anger with your past go. But barely a moment passed by before you were peeling the top of your laptop back up, as a hesitant hand once again reached to play the video.

He began to speak, his low and breathy modulated voice played quietly through your blown-out computer speakers and you hung onto every single venom-dipped word. He spoke with such conviction and anger at the state of the city that you had been trying desperately to communicate for years. He said everything that you were too weak, too scared to say out loud.

As his ravings came to an end, you immediately found yourself looking through the rest of this website, your fingers scrolling wildly, desperate to hear any, and everything this 'Riddler' had to say. His endless, maniacal rants provided you with a catharsis you had only dreamed of ever receiving.

Even his most horrific, and dangerous thoughts had your mind reeling. Your head nodded violently in agreement to his unrelenting extremism, a sign of your growing fearless devotion to the man on the screen, even though he could not see you back.

You'd fallen down a rabbit hole, and you had no desire to ever try and climb back up. These deep, dark depths that you had found yourself in brought more comfort than you could ever imagine. Even when The Riddler's words were meant for a large audience, it always felt like he was speaking directly to you. He had this familiarity to him, he knew your pain all too well. Maybe he'd been an orphan too. When you looked into his eyes, even though your screen as he went on the most vulgar rants, you'd felt a certain sort of comfort, one you hadn't felt in years, one you'd only ever felt with one other person in your entire life. His clever riddles and use of puzzles were a reminder of a warm ghost of your past.

You could say that finding The Riddler changed your life. With each of his postings, each of his rants your devotion only grew, his teachings and ideas only consuming more and more of your mind.

By the time he had murdered the mayor on Halloween night, you had already shed any reservations about your allegiance to The Riddler. You had no hesitations about the violence and the gore, he was doing what had to be done. He was the only one brave enough to do it.

You'd watched the evening news that night in absolute adoration of your Riddler. You bit your nails, your eyes widening with each and every gory little detail the newscasters announced into the camera. The dichotomy was almost laughable, the faint smile on your face, and fingers twirled in your hair as the anchorwoman described the brutalities inflicted on poor Mayor Mitchell. The small, giggly actions were somewhat akin to a teenage girl watching an interview with her favorite boyband star.

You could liken your devotion to The Riddler to that of an Evangelist's devotion to the lord.

How fitting was that now that you stood in front of a withering old church, ready to prove your loyalty to your divine.

Growing up as one of Gotham's forgotten was an ever-present struggle. Waking up every day shivering in an all-too-small room packed to the brim with frightened girls of all ages was nothing short of miserable. Of course, some kind souls took pity on the poor children of the Gotham Orphanage, pledging generous donations to help the pitiful, withering youths.

Except, none of you had ever seen a single penny of donations. Not a cent went to providing any residents of the Gotham Orphanage with an even slightly better quality of life. It was well known amongst most of you that that money had gone to one man, and one man alone, Father Benjamin, who'd become somewhat of the 'owner' of the orphanage once the church had taken on the role of caring for Gotham's orphans when Wayne Manor was given to them.

The Father was a corrupt man, a cruel man, much like most people in positions of power in Gotham. He was never the paragon of a godly man, reneging on his promise to care and provide for the misfortuned.

Though, perhaps to your dismay, your vengeance against the clergyman wasn't for entirely altruistic reasons. Like everyone, you'd indulge in your own selfishness and your grievances with the father were not wholly pecuniary. Father Benjamin ripped you away from the only thing you'd ever wanted, obviating your hope for a halfway happy life. That man had been the catalyst for the downward spiral of apathy that led you here- he had this coming. He had this coming for a long, long time.

After the fire at the Orphanage, Father Benjamin returned to preaching full time. The name for a while had only been a hazy memory, buried deep beneath the mountains of other trauma you had endured living in that wretched place. But one day it all came back, the decaying face of a moldering old man looked your way on your regular morning commute. The corpse-like appearance of his now dark, sunken eyes could not conceal the man you'd once known, the man who was responsible for far too much of your misery.

-

Your gaze turned upwards at the older man, he looked down on you disapprovingly towards where you'd sat on a cold exam table. His eyes were stone cold as they pierced through your own. His mouth curled down as his top lip struggled to stay put, raising slightly in an angry almost snarl.

"Please... please F-father... please don't make me leave!" Your gaze becomes obscured as tears fill up in your eyes, no longer able to see the disappointed man as you choke out a hopeless plea to him. Your voice is weak, vocal cords strained from all your wailing, "It was a mistake! It was one time-" You shake your head back and forth with vicious force. "Please let me stay- it was a mistake!"

The man above you was unmoved, his lips flattening out as his arms raised to cross his chest.

"You are unclean, you do not belong here." He shakes his head, "You are going somewhere where you will learn how to control yourself."

"PLEASE!" Your voice cracks as you plead for the umpteenth time, "You can't do this- I don't want to go."

"I can, and I am. You leave tomorrow night."

You attempt to wipe the tears that fell from your eyes with a shaky hand before placing your hands together, pressing the skin of your palms together harshly, the action makes a loud clap. You place your fingers up to your mouth, your hand in a prayer position, with your thumbs graze your lips as you sink your head forward and your eyes close. You sob against your rigid hands, silently praying to be saved.

With a loud sniffle, you lift your head and open your eyes to return to pleading with the father again. With your hands still desperately clinging to prayer, you shake them back and forth wildly.

"I thought God was supposed to forgive us for our sins... I thought you spoke for God... Why can't you forgive me, accept this as my penance, forgive me, Father!" Your words fell from your mouth in rapid succession as your chest heaved wildly. The panic of the unknown began to set in. You place your arms forward and begin grabbing at the thick black fabric of the Father's cassock.

"Forgiveness is between you and God, repent as much as you please, it is not my decision whether or not to strip you of the guilt of your filth." The Father spits.

You swallow hard and your throat stings as your warm saliva slides down your damaged flesh. You open your mouth to argue but barely a squeak comes out, instead you allow your head to fall forward, succumbing to the throbbing pain that consumes your brain.

Your breathing hitches and your shoulders twitch as your choked sobs get caught up in your stinging throat. Your fingers slip from their grip on the Father's clothes, your arms falling before turning them to your stomach, wrapping them around yourself.

Father Benjamin lets out a huff before turning around and you watch the ground as his sleek black shoes click away from you.

The decaying excuse of an infirmary sat barren aside from you as you let out whispered sobs. The loud laughter of young children could be heard on the other side of the orphanage, and you wondered if you could hear them, could they have heard your desperate cries.

You clung on desperately to your aching lower stomach, pushing your arms against your womb, trying to soothe the emptiness you felt inside you. Your eyes moved down your leg, eyeing the dried blood that trailed from your inner thigh to the inside of your knee. Your jaw clenched at the sight before you shut your eyes tight as you leaned forward. You took a few deep breaths in and out, hoping to yourself that this was all a nightmare and you'd wake up just fine.

But you were undoubtedly in reality as you opened your eyes, still in the withering infirmary, the same unrelenting ache overwhelming your body.

-

All of that rage and hatred you'd directed towards that man during childhood came right back to you and now, deeply caught under the influence of your newfound mentor, you knew something had to be done. You took no pity on the now decrepit old man for what you planned to do.

A man like the father was just the sort of target The Riddler sought after. He would be the perfect sacrifice to get the bloodthirsty vigilante's attention. You could only dream of his reaction to the crime, to someone being so devoted to him that they too helped clean up the streets of Gotham. You hoped to let The Riddler know that you were not just a listener, no, you were a fierce follower, you desperately needed him to know the depths of your devotion.

The chill November rain beat down hard upon your hooded head, each freezing drop soaking the dark fabric that rested on your hair. Still, you braved the cold, zipping up your jacket further until the cold metal zipper nearly reached the top of your neck and the confines of its material strangled you.

You lifted your now heavy feeling feet one by one as you ascended the long staircase heading towards the church. The reprieve from the rain finally hits once you reach cover under the roofing held up by large concrete pillars. It's late, long past hours of service or confession, so you can arrive confident knowing there will be no staggering witnesses. You'd studied the Father's routine over the passing days since you first laid eyes on him in the street. His simple, repetitive nightly procedure of wandering around the church, blowing out candles, and tidying up for the next day's service, helped set this plan in motion. He was a man of routine, one that was easy to memorize.

You take a deep breath in and swallow it down, reawakening the warm sting of whiskey in your throat- you could not do this stone-cold sober. The warmth in your chest gives you the push to wrap a gloved hand around the large, slippery metal door handle of the church. In your other hand, your large leather glove clung around a kitchen knife, your fingertips digging so hard into its tang you thought for sure it would disintegrate under the pressure. You stood still for a moment, perhaps longer than that, that constant dull, aching thump in your chest raced wildly for a change, the anticipation building up to the point you felt ready to jump out of your skin. It was then, when the pressure became too much, you exerted a sudden jolt of energy, flinging open the large wooden doors with little caution.

From the alter Father Benjamin turned his attention toward the church's narthex as you stepped inside. His hollow eyes widened at your sudden presence.

"If you're here for confession, I'm sorry but it must wait 'til tomorrow." His feeble voice echoes down the church's aisle.

"I'm not here to confess father." You strut forward, beginning to make your way down the nape of the church. "I'm here to talk to you." You place your hands behind your back, concealing your weapon.

"It's quite late, I'm afraid still, whatever services you're in search of must wait until tomorrow." His voice is slightly more firm as you continue to make your way down towards him.

"I'm sorry father but this simply cannot wait, it is quite important. Don't you remember me?" You're nearing the alter now. Father Benjamin tilts his head to the side, narrowing his sunken eyes.

"No-no I don't think I do."

Your entire body tenses and you clench your jaw. Your fingers go rigid around the handle of the knife. How could he just forget you? He ruined your life and he can just move on and forget you while you're still stuck trying to get over the past.

"Come on Father, think harder..." You taunt, "You don't remember sending me far... far away." A smirk surfaces across your lips as you begin to climb the short, flat stairs that lead to the alter.

"No- I don't." He speaks firmly, "Now, I really do suggest you get going, we are closed and you are tresspassi-"

"SHUT UP!" You scream, finally unveiling the knife behind your back. "You do not tell me what to do anymore, old man." You point the tip of the knife in the Father's direction. His already pale face turns a ghostly shade and his lip begins to tremble.

"P-put-put the knife down." His shaking hands raise in front of him.

"One more time, don't you remember me, Father?" You ignore the Father's pleas.

"I'm telling you I have no idea who you are, please put the knife down."

"No idea?" You raise an eyebrow and begin to inch towards the father once again as he starts to back up towards the apse of the church. "Let me try to jog your memory... PLEASE… PLEASE F-FATHER… PLEASE DON'T MAKE ME LEAVE! IT WAS A MISTAKE! IT WAS ONE TIME-PLEASE LET ME STAY- IT WAS A MISTAKE!" You yell histrionically, almost in a mockery of your younger self.

"O-okay- okay." His hands continue to tremble in front of him, ushering you to calm down "I remember- I remember!" He concedes.

"Good." You smile, "So you have no doubts about why I'm here then."

"I get it- I get- you're hurt, I- I was just doing what was best for you, you'd gone down a wrong path, I was saving you!"

You tip your head back and laugh at his pathetic attempts to explain himself.

"HURT?" You shriek, "You think I'm just hurt?" You've backed the father's trembling body father up against a wall. "Father, do you have any idea what it's like to be a scared, hungry, sixteen-year-old girl- with no family, no money, and no hope for a decent future. DO YOU KNOW what it's like to wake up covered in your own blood as your body violently rejects what's growing inside of it- something, you didn't even know was there? DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE FOR YOUR BRAIN TO FORCE YOU TO MOURN THE LOSS OF SOMETHING YOU DIDN'T EVEN KNOW YOU HAD TO LOSE IN THE FIRST PLACE- something you didn't even WANT?"

You hold the knife at the Father's neck, keeping him pinned in place, his lip quivers, and tears are beginning to slip down his decrepit face. It's impossible to hide the insurmountable pleasure you receive from seeing the old man in peril. "And above all, Father," Your voice suddenly drops to just above a whisper as you shove your face close to Father Benjamin's, "Do you know what it's like to be ripped from the one person who has ever loved you?" You squint your eyes and tilt your head to the side before pulling the knife backward from where it had been against his neck, and plunging it into his stomach.

You can feel his body tissue busting under the pressure of the sharpened blade. Using all of your force you twist the blade in his stomach, which is met with an audible gasp from the Father. His mouth opens a few more times as he struggles to get a word out, but the sheer force of the knife in his weakened body is enough to keep him silent.

You grin as Father Benjamin's legs begin to kick under him, his knees buckling from the pain.

"Maybe now, you can feel just an ounce of the pain I felt that day." You lean in close and whisper in his ear before removing the blade from his stomach. Father Benjamin falls to the ground, unable to handle the force of the blade shoved under his skin, the old man hits the tile below with a loud crack, the noise felt ear-splitting, and the withering of bone against the hard surface sent shivers down your spine. The cold marble having done most of the dirty work for you had split the fragile man's head open, his feeble skull nearly crumbling under the sheer force he hit the floor.

Blood pours out of the broken skin of both his stomach and his head. The thinned-out liquid rushes from the wounds faster than you'd expected. You stood over the now truly decaying father, watching the life drain from his eyes as his mouth continued to open and close, desperate for a single sound to come out. Slowly, his body would stop its writhing as he lost his fight and his mouth would cease to move, his labored breathing now altogether coming to a stop. He was gone.

It was far less laborious, far less messy than you'd expected, you figured it would have taken more than one blow to the stomach to have taken the old man out. But, you'd not account for the weight of the fall, and the strength of the floor, that is what did the man in. And in that case, it wasn't really you who'd killed the man, sure, you were the catalyst, but, the tile flooring is what really took him out. Your reasoning, you supposed, could absolve what very little guilt you'd even had for killing the man.

It nearly frightened you how little guilt you'd felt watching the aged priest bleed out in front of you. The pool of blood around his busted head sent nearly no waves of sympathy through your shaking body. No, instead you'd felt more of an overwhelming calm. Despite the adrenaline-fueled tremors that shook every part of you, you felt calm. You were perfectly at peace with the monster who'd taken so much from you bleeding out on the ground below.

A stifled, manic laugh began to slip from your lips, you couldn't help yourself. You relished your role as Father Benjamin's judge, jury, and executioner, having finally brought justice to a man who thought he could get away with the world. How wrong he was.

You could rationalize your actions all you wanted, but deep down, you knew you just committed murder, and you needed to get the hell out of that church, and fast.

You spent little time watching the Father's blood continue to pool, instead, opting to not bask in the glory of your crime, for you could do that when the news hit the television. You turned right around, sprinting back down the aisle and out the door, careful not to leave any bloodied footprints trailing from your shoes. You slipped back into the cold, dark night, the rain beat down on the pavement harder than ever.

You made your way down the steps nonchalantly, careful not to call attention to yourself, despite there not being any passersby at this late hour. The rain once again fell upon you, drenching every inch of your body, each cold drop washed away the ache of the past. For the first time in your life, you were alive and Father Benjamin wasn't, he had no more power to be able to take from you. He could never take from anybody anymore. You were free, everyone was free, you felt, almost rebirthed in the rain. Yet, of course, that numb feeling still drilled at the back of your skull and that aching pit in your stomach was destined to be reopened once the adrenaline wore off. But at least for now, you could bask in the afterglow of this alleviated feeling.

You opened up the door to your apartment and stepped inside before closing it behind you. You nearly slammed your wet figure right onto the back of the door once you heard the latch click, signifying the door had been all the way closed. A satisfied grin spread across your face as your gloved fingers grazed the cool metal that hid inside your pocket. You killed him.

As you took a breath in, you understood why addicts so desperately chased the high of their choice, you could only imagine it felt something like this. The adrenaline that pumped through your veins made you feel like you were on cloud nine.

You stepped away from the door, slipping off your soggy beaten-up sneakers before peeling yourself out of your sopping jacket. You'd been feeling so blissful you'd hardly realized just how uncomfortable the rain had made the state of your clothes.

You made your way into the kitchen, pulling out the knife over the sink, your body involuntarily shivered at the sight of the dried splatter that covered the shiny metal blade. You turned on the faucet to a burning degree before placing the blade under the rushing water. With your hands still gloved, the scalding water had little effect on your skin, instead, it was a comforting dull warmth under the thick leather. You rubbed your thumb against the blade, scraping away the evidence of the crime, before placing the knife in the dishwasher, as if were just any other utensil.

Still relishing your high, you decided it was high time to clean up, the rain had left you feeling mildly filthy. You headed down the darkened hallway of your apartment, making a sharp turn into your bedroom and flipping on the light.

A loud gasp escaped your mouth and your stomach flipped right around once the soft warm light from above hit your room. There was someone in your bed. Your body stiffened and you tried not to scream as the paranoia set in, the figure moved. You tried to run but you couldn't, you felt glued to the spot right up against your doorframe.

They flipped over, and just as you felt yourself about to scream-

"Jesus fucking christ Ryan, you scared me!" You scolded, a sigh of relief leaving your lungs at the sight of a face you'd recognized, though, were not thrilled to have in your house. The high of the night immediately dissipated once the initial relief of not having a stranger laid in your bed set in. You ran a hand through your drenched hair as an overwhelming feeling of utter dread washed over you, why tonight. His being here most certainly put a very big wrench in your plans.

The man who laid in your bed, staring back at you, Ryan, you supposed you'd been... "dating" him for the last few months... you guess. Sometimes you felt more like he was dating you, but that you weren't dating him. There was little a spark between the two of you, or at least that's how you felt, but despite the man having the personality of a soggy napkin, he made you feel normal.

"I'm sorry baby." He said in a low chuckle, clearly finding your startled appearance humorous, "You just- you weren't answering your phone- no one could get into contact with you."

"So you broke into my house?" You suppressed a groan.

"Well, I, didn't break in... you told me where you keep the spare key." He defended with a sweet smile on his face.

You placed your hand on your forehead and rubbed for a moment, before slipping your fingertips back up to your scalp and carding them through your hair once more.

"I didn't tell you where that was so you could break into my house unannounced." You sigh, "I- whatever." You shake your head, deciding not to argue, you'd already had an eventful night.

You step further into your room, beginning to continue peeling yourself out of your damp clothing.

"Where were you tonight?"

"Had some errands to run." You said, your voice muffled by you pulling the hoodie you had on over your head. You discarded the wet garment, tossing it somewhere in your room.

"This late? In the rain?" He questioned.

"Yeah... I ran out of um-" You squeezed your eyes tight, Come on, think of something, think "-of... toilet paper... so I needed to... get some." You nodded, feigning confidence in your story. You took a deep breath in, anxiously awaiting his response.

"Oh. Makes sense... yeah."

You looked away from him once again to remove another soaking article of clothing. You reached your fingertips under the hem of your t-shirt, bringing the soggy material over your head.

"Hey y/n, who is he?"

"What?" You said, your muscles going a little bit rigid as you dropped your t-shirt on the floor. Was he accusing you of cheating? You turned around to face the man, "What are you talking about?"

"Him," He said, gesturing towards your bedside table. You furrowed your eyebrows, unsure of what he was talking about, you're not a fucking mind reader after all.

"What?" You repeat again. Ryan leans over the side of your bed and picks up the picture frame that resides on your bedside table. As his fingers touch the faded wood of the frame you're suddenly filled with nearly unjustifiable rage.

"Don't touch that!" You scold, making Ryan contort his face in shock at your sudden raise change of volume.

"I-Sorry, I've meant to ask before, but I- I just wanted to know who the next to you guy in the picture was..."

Having already dug up a little too much of your past today, you weren't exactly eager to answer Ryan's question. Your throat tightened as you answered,

"A childhood friend." You shook your head, "He's, a childhood friend."

"A friend?" Ryan asked back, "You just yelled at me for touching a picture of him, he's just a friend? What, is he dead or something?"

Oh, he'd done it now.

"That's not funny, don't talk like that!" You reprimand once again, a certain defensiveness in your voice.

"I'm sorry- I'm sorry. Come on now. You can be honest, who is he?"

"You're not going to drop this, are you?" You sigh.

"Nope." He responded, popping the P sound in the word. Deep down you knew he didn't know any better, but you were wildly disgusted at him for treating this situation with such little consideration.

You eye Ryan from where he sits on the bed, and then turn your gaze to yourself, looking down at what you could see of your lower body. There you stood, in front of this guy you'd been hooking up with for the last few months, soaked, in nothing but your underwear, having literally just killed someone to prove your loyalty to another man, and now you're about to bear one of your most protected childhood memories. What a fucking night.

Your emotions were seemingly everywhere, and nowhere all at once, and you sighed as you sat down on the edge of the bed, trying desperately to figure out how you were going to tell this story without losing your mind.

You looked down at your feet, unable to look Ryan in the eyes as you began.

"His name was Edward." You mumbled, "He was uh, we grew up together, in the orphanage- you know."

"Oh, so you two were pretty close?"

You picked your head up from where you'd been looking down, and you chuckled in your best attempt to hold back the choking sob that at this point was desperate to come out, "I- uh- yeah- I thought I was going to marry him, honestly." You look back down at the ground, trying your hardest to keep your voice light-hearted, sneaking in stifled little fake laughs here and there, "But, that's- it was stupid- we were just kids." You shake your head.

"So, what happened then?"

"I got into some trouble not too long after I turned 16..." An arm snakes around your side, holding itself firm against your exposed stomach, "I guess the members of the clergy thought it was best that I rehabilitated my behavior elsewhere- or whatever. Got shipped off to some boarding school for troubled youth in the middle of nowhere. Never saw him, or any of my friends again." You speak somewhat nonchalantly, trying your best to separate yourself from the memories that were threatening to come forth in your head.

"Oh... I'm sorry." Ryan speaks slowly, a hint of condolence in his voice, "What sort of trouble?"

You look over at the man, unwilling to give up so much to him so soon,

"I just made some stupid choices as a teenager" You shake your head, trying to play things cool, you throw a hand up in faked ambivalence, "Choices with some tough consequences. That's all." You swipe your hand across your nose, sniffling before tucking your hair behind your ears, "I'm not like a felon or anything, I never did anything too terrible- just by the church's standards." You laugh awkwardly.

"Oh- no- yeah I get it." He nods, "Surprised you came back to Gotham though, afterward- I mean."

"Yeah," You nod, "I guess- well by the time I was finished with school, I was just a scared 18-year-old with nowhere to go and- Gotham was the only place I was familiar with." You shrug.

Ryan clicks his tongue making a tsk sound as his head bounces slightly up and down. "Sorry about your friend though," He glances back over to the picture, "You looked happy with him."

"I was-" You scrunch your mouth to one side, and then the other before your face falls flat once more, "That picture," you point at the picture frame, "One of my school friends took it, she threw me a small party for my 16th birthday at her house, it's one of my happiest memories." You breathe in and tilt your head back slightly, trying to hold back the tears that were tempting your eyes. You blink a few times and shake your head, "But, god, It's okay, y'know, I haven't seen any of them in like-over 10 years, I'm sure we've all moved on since then."

"Well, at least you still have the memories."

"Yeah," You nod, choking back tears, you quickly turn your head back to Ryan, "I'm gonna... go take a shower."

"Without me?" He smirks as you begin to get off the bed.

"Yeah," You suck on your tongue for a second, "I feel pretty gross from the rain, I don't think it'll be very sexy. I'll be right back!" You scurry out of the room before he could answer, the lingering feelings of your prior conversation making you cringe as you head to the bathroom.

You shut the bathroom door behind you, and as soon as you heard it click shut you felt the tears begin to pour down your cheeks. You raised a hand to your face to wipe them away but the warm drops fell down your face too fast for you to consistently catch them all.

You rested your hand on the bridge of your nose, pressing the sides of your fingers hard into the cartilage, reflecting on the last 5 minutes of your night alone.

A friend? Your face twisted, scrunching up your nose as your mouth contorted into a scowl. You ran your tongue across your teeth, sucking lightly as you shook your head back and forth, disgusted with yourself. How could you sit there and just call him a friend?

You bit your lip, suppressing the urge to scream as you lifted your head. Your tears began to drip down to the back of your face. You scooped what you could of your sobs off your face and made your way to the shower, turning on the faucet. You backed away from the flowing water as the bathroom began to fill with steam. A warm, white misty haze settled all over the bland tile scape. Your hand reached around to your back, unclasping your bra and letting it fall against the ground before pulling your panties down your legs and kicking them off to the side.

A small jolt ran through your body as a leg entered the shower, unprepared for the water to have been so hot. You took ahold of the metal handle and turned the temperature of the water down slightly until a steady, warm stream rained down on you. The patter of the showerhead washed away the ever-present flow of tears on your face.

You let the water fall against your body for a moment, basking in its warmth, trying to calm down from everything you'd been through tonight. Flashes of memories peaked through your tightly closed eyes, the knife in Father Benjamin's chest, waking up to blood on your sheets, the feeling of soft lips against yours, that cold infirmary room, spending first period huddled over a school toilet, the night you met Ryan. Every inch of your life seemed to race by in small increments until you opened your eyes, unable to take the burden that each moment held. You shook away the thoughts, bending down to pump some shampoo into your hand.

You lather the light pearlescent substance into your hair, deeply massaging your scalp with the tips of your fingers. You made sure to get the suds in between each and all of the tens of thousands of strands of hair that sat on your head, tugging at your roots to wash away all of the rain's grime.

You tip your head back under the water, continuing to massage your scalp, as your eyes shut softly. Your thoughts began to disappear elsewhere as you recalled the picture Ryan had pointed out earlier, your smiling face as you clung to the side of that awkwardly lanky boy, the reflection of the camera in his taped-up glasses was clear as day in your mind. You breathed in deeply, as the memory began to consume you.

-

"Ooh! Me next! Open mine next!" The blonde girl next to you said, her voice over-bubbly with intoxication. With a smile, her hands pressed together as she claps excitedly. She picks up a bright pink wrapped box beside her and hands it to you.

"Thank you, Jessie," You give her a mildly intoxicated smile, taking the box and resting it in your lap. You peel off the matching sparkly pink bow from atop the box before digging your nails into one of the gaps in the paper, tearing it off. You grab the top of the box and let it slide off where you noticed whatever sat at the bottom was wrapped in hot pink tissue paper, you grinned at the coordination of everything. Your fingers pulled back the crinkled paper as your jaw dropped slightly at what was inside. "No fucking way!" You exclaim as you reach inside the box. You smile as your fingers graze over the fabric of a brand-new pair of jeans. God, you couldn't remember the last time you'd gotten clothes from somewhere other than the thrift store.

"What is it?" Another voice across the room asked, forcefully.

"Shut up, Allan!" Jessie retorts to the voice across the room before turning towards you, "Look! There's more under that!" She continues happily.

You look up at Jessie with a smile, before returning to the box, which unveiled a couple of shirts that had sat under the pair of jeans, shirts you specifically remember eyeing last time you went to the mall.

"Oh! Jessie!" You practically shout, "Thank you! Oh my god!" You smile wildly at the blonde girl, endlessly thankful for her kindness.

"Oh it's no biggie! It's your 16th birthday! That's big! You deserve it."

You place the box back on the floor in front of you.

"Okay!" Jessie announces, "Can you please open Edward's gift now! He won't tell any of us what it is! The anticipation is killing me!"

"Oh?" You raise an eyebrow at the boy who sits on the other side of you as you pick up a red plastic cup off the carpet. "Secretive, now are we?" Your inquisitive glare turns into a smile before you press the cup against your lips and tilt it back. You wince slightly as the taste of cheap liquor and warm soda hits your taste buds.

"Mhm." Edward nods, a sly smile on his boyish face. You place the cup down once again.

"Well, give it to me, hm?" You say, reaching out your arms. Edward grabs the well-wrapped box off his lap and hands it to you.

"I hope you like it." Edward's smile becomes a bit sheepish as you take the present into your hands.

"It's from you Eddie, of course, I already like it!" You giggle, eyeing him up and down fondly.

"God, y/n! When did you get so fucking corny?" Allan yells from across the room.

"I'm not being corny! It's the truth!" You whip your head to the side and narrow your eyes at him.

"Shut up, Allan!" Jessie repeats once again.

"Whatever. Open it! Open it!" Allan urges.

"Okay! Jeez!" You begin to tear off the paper from the box until it was just bare and white. You dug a nail under the tape of the box, peeling that open as well before lifting the top.

"Edward!" You gasped as you looked down in the box. Below you sat packaged a small iPod and some nice-looking headphones. A huge smile overcame your face as your body began to heat up. "You didn't have to-oh! That's too much money." You look back up, placing one hand over Edward's as it lay in his lap.

Edward shook his head, "No, like Jessie said, you deserve it- I know you like your music and whatnot- and so- you know- I picked up some extra shifts at work."

"Awww!" Jessie interjected, directing her gaze to you, "He took extra shifts for you!" She then shifted her focus to both you and Edward, "Can you guys just admit you're in love already!"

You didn't need a mirror to know you'd turned bright pink, you felt the warmth pricking under your cheeks in a shameful blush. You nervously glanced over to Edward who looked the same as you assumed you'd looked. Edward looked down at his lap, pushing up his thin wire-rimmed glasses with his free hand, his fingertip grazing their taped-up center.

"Yeah, really, stop being pussies and just bone already, god!" Allan nagged at the two of you.

"Don't be gross!" Jessie scolded.

"Sorry- You laughed nervously, directing your attention towards Edward. "Really though, thank you, Eddie, even though your gift kind of makes me gifting you a book of crossword puzzles for your birthday look really fucking lame."

"I didn't think it was lame at all." Edward shook his head, "I use it every day."

"You're too sweet Eddie."

"You are too,"

Suddenly, a strange bout of confidence hit you as you gazed into Edward's naturally sad-looking eyes. "Thank you so much, Eddie," you grin before leaning forward and placing a small kiss against his lips.

The quick peck had Edward's face turning bright pink as you pulled back only a few inches with a goofy smile, trying your absolute best (and failing) to play it cool, pretending your heart wasn't racing in your chest. Edward raised his hand to graze your cheek, and with hesitance he leaned in again, kissing you this time.

Your eyes closed almost involuntarily as his lips touched yours, your head turning slightly so you could get closer to him. You placed both of your hands on his shoulders, and your fingers were placed firmly into his skin as if holding him in place. But as Edward's other hand came to hold your face you slipped your hands from his shoulders and wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, pushing yourself close to him. The sudden pressure of you leaning into Edward made his body fall backward slightly.

The kiss was only broken by Allan whistling loudly. The noise startled you both causing Edward's already fragile, trembling body to fall all the way backward, taking you down with him. You pull away once again, giggling as you look down at Edward from where he was laying below you. He's smiling back up at you, a real, genuine smile, something you weren't always used to from him which only makes you want to kiss him again, and again, and again if it means you can see him smile like that a few more times.

Allan yells some vulgar words of encouragement to Edward, but you can barely hear it over the sound of your heart beating. Edward removes his hand from your cheeks and without the small force of him holding you up you let your head fall against his chest. Just under his skin, you can hear a thumping similar to your own, making you smile as you push your cheek up against the worn-out fabric of his T-shirt.

"Hey, uh- can you just hang out in the living room real quick while I get dressed?" You stand at the entrance to your room, resting a bare shoulder against its wooden frame.

"What?" Ryan looks up at you, giving you a look that's somewhat akin to a lost puppy. The faked innocence on his face makes you want to shrivel up inside. He laughs with feigned confidence, "You know I've seen you naked before, right?"

"What's that have to do with anything?"

"Well if you're worried about me seeing you change it's nothing I haven't seen be-"

"I'm not worried." You cut him off, "I just want to get dressed by myself." You cross your arms over your towel-clad chest, trying your best to display your annoyance without being too harsh about it.

"Alright," Ryan says, stretching out the i sound and emphasizing the t, awkwardly nodding his head out of some minute embarrassment. He flashes you a shy smile as he walks past you in the doorway.

You cannot shut the door behind him fast enough, your heart beginning to race wildly as you eagerly raced to your bed, picking your laptop up from where it lay on the floor. You didn't care that you were still only dressed in your towel, your hair and body still sopping wet, you had more important things to tend to now. You bring the computer to your lap, your fingers type furiously on the keys, pulling up the Riddler's website.

You sigh, relieved that there have been no updates to the website in the few hours that it had been since you last checked it. You make your way to The Riddler's last post, your brain working furiously as it tried to drum up the right words to describe your work tonight. You clicked to add a comment before bringing your anxious fingers to your lips, you needed to make an impression, you needed to make him notice your comment out of all the others.

You moved your hand back to the keyboard and flexed your fingers a few times before finally resting them back on the keys as you nervously typed out your comment.

Riddler, I cannot thank you enough for your work. You have inspired me beyond words, I have a new hope for the city now, all thanks to you. Sometime in the early morning when the most devoted of Christ's followers awake to attend their morning mass they will be given quite a shock. Poor, poor Father Benjamin has met his demise, and what remains of his tainted blood is spilling from his brain and chest as I speak. Thank you for giving me the courage to do what I've been yearning for since I was young, Father Benjamin has taken so much from the innocent of our city, he leaves behind nothing but a legacy of corruption and grief, he's gotten what he deserved.

I hope you know what a mark you've left on your followers, I hope you understand our devotion. You symbolize a new hope for Gotham's forgotten, the proletariat, those not touched by the city's greed. I hope to prove to you that you are more than just a guy in a mask, you ARE the future of Gotham, YOU are vengeance, YOU are justice, and you are a revolutionary. This is only the beginning.

You lean back and reread your comment over and over again, nitpicking each and every little nuance, making sure it's perfect. You rubbed your now clammy hands together before holding them in a loose prayer position and pressing your fingers to your lips. Little in your life had ever made you this jumpy with excitement. Your brain for a split moment retreated to that 16th birthday party, that feeling of gentle hands on your cheeks had been imprinted on your skin permanently, like a scar. You quickly shook away the memory, trying your best not to let yourself get back in your head again, wishing your brain didn't fight so hard to live in those ephemeral halcyon days.

With a sharp breath in you posted your comment, you'd done a lot of risky shit in your life, but nothing had felt quite like this before. Anticipation knocked at your nerves, prompting you to get out of bed and walk around your room. You walked over to your dresser and hastily pulled out a t-shirt without looking.

You dropped your towel and pulled the shirt over your head, pausing momentarily as you went to bring the shirt down your midsection, your fingers passing over the fabric, feeling just how soft this shirt was in particular from being so worn. Your eyes widened as you let the shirt fall over the rest of your body. Just your luck. You snapped your head towards your mirror, staring at yourself in its reflection. Your mouth fell into a small frown as you placed your fingers on your chest, softly grazing over the faded-out Radiohead logo.

For once in your life, you were thankful you didn't have breakfast as you kneeled hunched over the school toilet, spitting out what remained of the bile and saliva in your mouth.

You couldn't understand, this was the third day in a row you'd found yourself getting sick. There was some sort of ever-present nausea that you couldn't get rid of. You feared that this was not a one-off instance like you'd originally thought, acute panic set in at the realization that something may actually be wrong with you.

You picked your head up from where it had been bent over, screwing your eyes shut tight as you flushed the toilet, opting not to look at the remains of what little you'd eaten over the last few days. You got off your knees as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and rested back against the stall door, blinking away the tears that were welling up in your eyes. God, how embarrassing this was.

You took a deep breath in, realizing just how hot you'd gotten and just how disgusting you felt. You looked down at yourself, a small, light orange stain on your white shirt catching your eye. The sight nearly made you gag all over again. You hit your head against the stall door, "Fuck!" you let out, exasperated, trying to think of what to do. You squeezed your eyes tight, trying to figure out where you could possibly find a change of clothes.

If you remembered correctly, you had one safe bet of getting a new shirt. Mustering up all your strength, your shaky knees nearly buckling, you pick yourself up off the bathroom floor and let yourself out of the stall. You head to the sink, pinching the rusted metal handles to turn on the tap. You held back your hair with a tight fist as you pushed your face under the cold running water, letting it fall into your mouth. The poorly-filtered water had a bitter, metallic taste, but anything was better than the warm acerbic aftertaste of your stomach acids.

You picked your head up from the tap and swished the water around your mouth before spitting it out back into the sink. You looked at your reflection as your head whipped up once more, noticing how drained of color your face had gotten. Deciding to worry about your health another time, you hastily left the bathroom, rushing to get to your destination before the bell rang.

You traversed what seemed like endless hallways until finally reached where you needed to be, with a couple seconds to spare. You leaned against the crumbling tile wall outside one of the classrooms, fidgeting with your fingers and rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet. Your head turned back and forth, looking up and down the hallways on either side of you until the bell rang. You watched intently as students hurried out of the classroom until you finally caught sight of who you needed.

You reached out and grabbed Edward's scrawny arm, pulling him away from the hoard of his classmates. He jumped slightly under your touch, his startled look quickly fading into a smile as his eyes met you.

"You scared me I didn't expect you to gra- hey, are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost?" His smile slowly faded to a look of concern.

You looked back and forth once more, tapping your shoe against the tile floor, waiting for the area to clear out. You looked back at Edward, eyeing his clothes up and down, relieved when you saw an ill-fitting flannel layered over a Radiohead T-shirt he'd found at a charity shop a few months ago.

"Can I have your shirt?" You ask poking him in the stomach slightly as you point forwards, making him flinch.

"Of course," he nods, "What's wrong?" His eyebrows furrow behind his glasses.

"I uhhh..." You trail off as someone walks past the two of you. You reach out and grab both of Edward's hands, holding them out in front of you before pulling him a little closer to you. His lanky frame stands over you, and he looks down with a small smile, giving your hands a small, reassuring squeeze. Now determining the coast was clear you start back up once more just above a whisper, "I- got sick again. And-" You try to hide your disgust as best as you can, trying to keep your face as straight as possible, "Some of it got on my shirt, I guess." You wince.

Edward's head cocks to the side and his mouth drops slightly. One of his hands escapes from your grasp and comes up to rest on the back of your neck, "Y/n..." He starts in a quiet voice, "I think we should I don't know, go to the doctor or something- I'm worried about you, this is the third day in a row."

"Edward," You shake your head, "I'm worried too but can we please just not have this conversation right now." You look up at him with pleading eyes. "I just need your shirt."

"Alright. It's worth having some time, at least. Even if you just go to the nurse maybe she cou-"

"Edward." You cut him off. His hand drops from the back of your neck and he nods.

"Yeah- just let me change."

You drop his other hand as the two of you walk towards the bathrooms. The hallways are empty as the bell rings again, signifying the start of the next period, but, you'd never cared much about your attendance.

"I'll be right out," Edward says as the two of you reach the boy's bathroom. You give him a sharp nod, tightening your lips into a thin line as he walks off into the bathroom.

You stand against the wall and resume rocking back and forth, your thumb rests just against your lip as you anxiously bite at the nail. The fingers on your opposite hand drum at the side of your thigh as your mind races with possibilities of what could be wrong with you. You shiver at the thought of any of them, hoping that this was simply just brought about by stress, or maybe you were just getting your period soon.

Maybe deep down you knew that the way you'd been feeling was far too severe for it to be either of those things, but, they were pretty little solutions you could use to keep you distracted from the almost glaringly obvious.

You see Edward come out of the bathroom out of the corner of your eye and you quickly turn to him. His T-shirt is crumpled up in a ball as he stands in front of you, his loose flannel sits upon his gangly frame. The ill-fitting fabric droops down at his front, slightly exposing a collarbone. You look up at him, his glasses are slightly crooked on his face, and his hair is just barely out of place. His appearance makes a smile grow on your face and you nearly forget all of the anxieties from mear seconds ago. You stand up on your toes and smooth out Edward's shaggy hair before adjusting his glasses against his nose.

"Oh." Edward chuckles, seemingly unaware of his disheveled appearance.

"You're too cute." You giggle before giving him a small kiss on the cheek. "Too cute Eddie." He's blushing at your adulation, squeezing the balled-up T-shirt in his hands between his fingers. "Wait-ew" You furrow your eyebrows and shake your head, laughing a little, "Sorry, should've waited until I could brush my teeth." You drop your feet down flat again.

"No-no it's okay, I don't mind."

"You're too lenient with me Eddie," You chuckle as you adjust the flannel on his shoulders. "There we go." You say, satisfied with his fixed appearance.

Edward outstretches his arms to hand you his shirt, "I'll wait here for you." He gives you a small smile, nudging the balled-up shirt towards you. You give him a nod, taking the fabric from his hands.

You're back in the bathroom stall now, dropping your backpack and stripping off your stained shirt. You peel the sullied fabric away from your sticky, sweat-stricken skin and replace it with Edward's T-shirt.

A smile pulled at your cheeks almost reflexively when the garment passed over your head. The soft, worn garment carried Eddie's faint scent, making you blush as warm thoughts of him moved through your brain. The shirt fell the rest of the way down your midsection, and you grabbed your backpack and left the stall.

You quickly glanced past the mirror to briefly check out your reflection. The t-shirt was ill-fitted for your body, but you found it hard to mind, rather you focused on the strange overjoyed feeling that filled you from wearing Edward's clothes.

You walked out of the bathroom, the sound of the opening door alerting Edward of your presence. He turns to look at you and you notice him take a deep breath in as he looks at you with a stunned look on his face.

"Are you alright, Edward?" You frown.

"Yeah- yeah I'm okay." Edward shoves his hands deep in his pockets and steps up on the balls of his feet before falling back on his heels, anxiously repeating the action a few times over, "It's just- wow." He shakes his head, "You are so beautiful."

You awoke in a state of confusion, as the nearly-afternoon sun shone in your eyes as they opened slightly.

You peered out of your still nearly entirely closed eyes, your sleep obfuscated gaze focusing on the spot next to you, nobody was there. You pushed the heavy comforter off your body with a sudden burst of energy and picked your upper body up with what little strength the morning brought your lower arms. Your clothes were still on.

You rubbed your eyes as you rested your sat-up body against a pillow, finally feeling fit to open your eyes completely. You looked around at your room, then back at the empty spot next to you.

Ryan must have gone home, you deduced as you thought back to last night.

Shit. Last night.

Scrambling, you frantically reached over the side of your bed as the beating in your chest began to pick up. You grabbed your laptop from off your floor and pulled it up to your lap, anxious. You tapped at the space just below the keyboard, waiting for the computer to turn on.

The bright light of the sign-in screen finally hit your eyes and you frantically entered in your password.

"Come on, come on." You egged on the inanimate object, your leg shaking below you. Finally, you were signed in and you scrambled to your search engine, furiously making your way to the Riddler's website. Your stomach flipped as you began typing in the URL, the frequently visited website quickly filling in the autocomplete.

As you pressed 'enter' you felt your heart drop right down to your stomach. You'd not been taken to the usual Riddler's website, instead, you were greeted with a black screen, a small, blinking question mark sat in the upper left corner.

"Shit. Shit. Shit." You cursed, "What the fuck!"

Soon the green question mark disappeared, instead now being replaced with an insertion point. You swallowed harshly as text began to appear on the page.

I've been waiting for you...

Your eyes went wide, was this - no way. You stared at your computer screen for a few moments, unsure of what to do. Had the website been compromised? Who was talking to you?

Cat got your tongue?

A new line of dialogue appeared. You placed your hands on the keyboard,

Who is this?

Come on, I thought you were smarter than this, who else would it be?

Are you the Riddler?

You type fervently, your body racked with anxiety at the thought that you could really be talking to The Riddler right now.

There we go... now we're thinking!

"Holy fucking shit." Your fingers grazed over your computer's keys, restraining yourself from making some sort of crazed proclamation of love. You tapped against the keys, dumbfounded, at a complete and utter loss of what to say.

I saw the news... what an act of dedication! I've nearly been moved to tears knowing I've made such an impact.

Your face becomes flushed with a bright pink, a smile forming across your face. He noticed, he really really noticed you.

You noticed...

Of course, I noticed... That's why I just had to speak with you.

You placed your hand over your mouth, your fingers rubbed over your lips, unsure of how to even respond at such a comment. You took a sharp breath in,

You don't know what that means to me. I hope you understand your words have changed my life.

That's always been the goal. Change. Father Benjamin was a loathsome man. Still, I'm almost surprised someone got the job done before me.

He knew about the Father.

You know of Father Benjamin's ills?

I grew up from a seed, as tough as a weed. But in a mansion, in a slum, I'll never know where I come from. Do you know what I am?

You read the text a few times over again, racking your brain as to what he could have possibly meant. You were never very good at Riddles.

Mansion... in a slum... shit. You had it.

An orphan?

Precisely. Given your grievances with the Father, may I presume you are too?

You furrowed your eyebrows, entirely dumbfounded. The Riddler had been an orphan too?

Yes. I was. And Father Benjamin took EVERYTHING from me.

As he did for I.

A smile found its way onto your face, and your heart beat wildly at your newfound discovery of how much you and The Riddler had in common.

How about we unmask Father Benjamin together?

Just when you thought the manic grin on your face could not possibly get any wider. You'd wanted to get the Riddler's attention, but this, this was far more than you could have ever imagined. He wanted to work with you. Your breathing turned to a dangerous heave.

Are you still there?

Yes. Please. I want nothing more than to unmask that man. With you.

Good. Meet me where it all began. 19:00.

It had taken you a moment to figure out what the Riddler had meant, where it all began. But, having thought on it, there was only one possible place that it could have been. The orphanage.

Part of you debating not turning up, perhaps this had all been an elaborate scheme, a set-up by the cops. You'd paced your apartment like a madwoman for hours, arguing with yourself back and forth about what to do before ultimately deciding to go. You'd worshipped this man, the Riddler gave your life meaning again, and you'd be damned if you were going to miss your shot at teaming up with him.

The building had fallen apart, most of it reduced to ash and rubble after that fire a few years back. All that was left were some meager remnants of rooms and hallways. Even prior to the fire, it had always been hard to imagine that the orphanage was once a grand mansion where Gotham's most elite family found themselves living out their day-to-day.

With cautious moves, clad in black from head to toe, and a simple mask hung across the lower half of your face (you, clearly, did not have the same time for elaborate costuming like the Riddler) you wandered nearer in to the decaying orphanage. Your building anticipation of meeting your masked idol was still, simply not strong enough to repress the memories you'd had here.

Your shoes kicked up dust as you walked along a barren hallway, painfully aware of where you were even given the destitute state of your surroundings. You peered off to your side, your eyes landing on what remained of a cold, white room, involuntarily, your throat constricted at the sight.

-

Finally mustering up some strength you removed your arms from your aching stomach and gently stepped down from the exam table, trying your best not to collapse to the ground as your knees threatened to buckle under you. You sniffed loudly, wiping away the tears from your reddened cheeks that had been nearly rubbed raw by now.

Any semblance of self-worth you possessed had seemed to dissipate, perhaps the father was right, maybe you were filthy, maybe you didn't belong here. The future looked morose- but maybe that's what you deserved.

Your teeth gnawed at the insides of your cheeks as you made your hesitant journey over to the door to exit the infirmary. There was no easy way to explain what had happened today, but you knew you owed Edward that much- and he could pass the news onto the rest of your friends, seeing you wouldn't be around in Gotham long enough to say goodbye.

You touched your hand to the cool metal of the doorknob, taking a deep breath in before turning it. As the door swung open you're caught off guard by Edward standing right in front of you out in the hallway. Your bottom lip begins to quiver under his careful gaze, he looks sadder than usual.

"How long have you been there?" You ask, halfway hiding behind the door.

"Awhile." His answer is short and sullen.

"How much did you hear?"

"Why is he sending you away- I don't understand- what happened?" Edward's voice suddenly picks up and he's panicked. "I just- I've been waiting here since I woke up- everyone's been talking, something about bloody sheets..." His voice trails off, "I don't understand."

"What do you mean everyone's been talking?" You step out from your spot behind the door, but only slightly, "What have they been saying?"

"Some of the girls- they said they woke up and you weren't there- all that was left behind was your sheets- covered in blood- Y/n please- I don't understand, what happened, where are you going?"

"Oh." You finally step out into the hallway completely. You look into Edward's eyes, hoping to find some hope that he's at least on the track of figuring out what's happened so you could avoid the explanation. But all you find is lost desperation in those sad, wet eyes. "You haven't figured it out?"

"Figured, what out y/n? Please just tell me." His voice cracks and you can tell he's close to tears.

"Edward..." You trail off to a whisper, your eyes screw closed, your mouth pursing into a straight line to prevent a loud sob from escaping your lips. A tear escapes down your cheek as you open your eyes back up and you inhale, "I've been getting sick, and now I- I woke up bleeding." You explain, hoping Edward could just put the two together. He was so good at solving things, this was much easier than a riddle. Why couldn't he just get it?

Edward's mouth drops slightly and he shakes his head, "No-" He cuts himself off before speaking again, "It was only once- we were safe- I didn't get you-"

You nodded your head- he solved it.

"Oh god." He inhales, and his mouth hangs open for a moment as he shakes his head, panicked. "This is all my fault." His eyes open wide and a few tears escape.

"Eddie-" You start, "Please, no- please don't blame yourself. If I just listened to you when I first got sick I could have taken care of it- but now." You look down at the floor, "I guess my body's done that for me." You look back up at Edward who's still staring dumbfounded but you don't know what to say- there's nothing you could possibly say to make this any easier for either of you.

You just about throw yourself against Edward, "I don't know why it happened-" You begin to sob into the crook of his neck, wrapping your arms around his back. You grip onto his T-shirt so tight that your knuckles turn white. "It just- it did- and I'm in so much pain- and I feel so sad like someone's died, and now I'm- Father Benjamin is sending me away- he told me that I'm filthy for what I've done- that I don't belong here." Your words are muffled by your choked sobs and Edward's skin, but they're still comprehendable.

Edward's arms wrap around you and he holds you far tighter than you've ever been held before. As much as he tries to stifle his sobs, you can hear him crying too, which breaks your heart right in half. "You're not filthy. You're such a sweet girl" His broken voice barely manages out. "My sweet girl. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." He weeps into your shoulder, "I don't understand- you don't deserve this."

Despite having gone through one of the most traumatic events your body can naturally put itself through, somehow your heart seemed to ache more for Eddie- for as long as you could remember he had been your everything. Your oldest friend- at times even your only friend. You knew you were young but, you were certain you'd never feel this way for someone again. You let out a hysterical weep into his shoulder, stinging your throat as the high-pitched noise moves through your strained vocal cords. The sound of your cry only makes Edward hold you tighter, letting out a soft, soothing "shhh" between his lips.

"Eddie?" You sniffle.

"Yes?"

"You know, whenever I can't sleep at night, I just- I think about you- about you and I- about us. I imagine us all grown up and happy, and in love- and god it's so cheesy, it's so embarrassing- but it makes me so happy- and I- I just want you to know I won't ever let go of that fantasy." You continue to cry into his shoulder, your tears soaking the fabric of his shirt. "I'm going to love you forever Eddie, until I die, I swear."

"Me too Y/n," His breath is warm against the skin of your neck, as he exhales, "Forever."

You lift your head from where it lies on Edward's shoulder, your entire face is now red and puffy, and your head throbs from all of the water you've lost today through your eyes alone. Edward's head rises as well, and you both look at each other through teary eyes. Edward's hands come up to hold either side of your face, wiping away your tears with his thumb.

He still looks so beautiful, even as his face is stricken with unimaginable grief, his eyes red and puffy under his crooked glasses, and his nose irritated and runny.

"God, who's going to fix your hair- and your glasses when I'm gone. You're going to look like a mess!" You try to laugh through the tears, lifting up your hands to straighten out his glasses.

"When you're gone it won't matter if I look a mess since I won't have anyone I want to look nice for." Edward gives you a weak chuckle.

"Oh Eddie," You sigh, giving him a frown, "I love you so much."

"I love you too Y/n."

After a long shared glance through teary eyes Edward presses his lips to yours, and you savor the taste, knowing this could very well be one of the last times you ever feel his lips on yours.

-

You're pulled from your somber thoughts by the sound of heavy boots shuffling behind you. You take in a sharp inhale, the tears that were forming in your eyes seem to desiccate almost instantly.

"You came." A muffled voice says from behind you. Your body goes stiff and you suddenly lift up your back, fixing your posture at the familiar voice. The Riddler.

You spin around on your heels, and there he is standing not but a few feet away. You're spellbound from the moment your eyes turn upon him, he's real- and he's in front of you. As scary as he came off in his videos, he was much more intimidating in person, only a vague outline of a person with nearly no sign of animate life aside from his piercing green eyes that look to be staring right through you. He's taller than you expect, even from a distance he appears to tower over you.

You can barely manage a breath out, strained, you try your best, "Of course I did." Your words only barely muffled by the fabric of your mask.

"There's no need to be nervous." He steps closer, "I only bite those with bitter blood."

You shake your head, and clasp your now clammy hands together behind your back, "No, I'm not worried about being hurt." You respond, awestruck, looking up at him with big eyes full of adoration, "You're just- you've inspired me so. I can't believe I'm here with you."

He lets out a chuckle that goes on for just a little too long, and is just a little too animalistic.

"I appreciate the flattery- but it's you I should be thanking, for your devotion, for your dedication to making a change." The way he speaks is nearly theatrical, it's almost identical to the same histrionics he exhibits in his videos.

"Father Benjamin needed to be taken care of, you helped me recognize that."

"Good." He lets out a long exhale, "We will unmask that vermin together then."

You nod.

The Riddler is now finally standing right in front of you. He takes a moment to look you up and down with a careful eye, his intense gaze sending shivers down your spine. You attempt not to squirm under his gaze, a task which you find difficult from the overwhelming power he exudes alone. As he looks you can quickly see a glimmer of something in his eyes before it fades away and you're left questioning what it is that he saw that made him perk up like that.

"Now, I must ask, if we are to unmask the man, do you have any personal grievances with the father? Outside of his, greedy nature."

You swallow harshly, wondering if you should tell him,

"I do- but it's not necessarily something I want out."

"Then why are we doing this if not to air our grievances? If the Father has done something corrupt it is the right of the citizens of Gotham to know!" The Riddler becomes agitated, his sudden change of tone frightens you, and most of all you worry you'll disappoint him.

"Okay, okay." You nod, "I just- I haven't told anyone this since it happened."

"No one needs to know it was you, that's the best part about wearing a mask- the truth won't come back to bite you. Go on, spill." He urges with a forceful tone in his voice.

You looked up at The Riddler, your heart beating wildly as you prepared to tell this strange man the most intimate details of your life, getting ready to say the words you'd barely even said to Edward at the time. With a nervous swallow you began,

"When I was 16..." You began, "My- uh- my boyfriend who was also an orphan he- he got me pregnant. And I guess I um- before I realized I was even pregnant- I guess I- I miscarried-" You could feel the tears beginning to form in your eyes, threatening to roll down your cheeks with even the slightest movement. "It was early on, only a few weeks so it was nothing brutal but- both the clergy and I found out when I woke up having bled through my sheets. And Father Benjamin, having decided I was unclean for having premarital sex, sent me to some, god, some crazy religious boarding school- and I never saw my boyfriend or any of my friends again." You're no longer looking at the Riddler, instead, your eyes are down at your feet as you fit your lip between your teeth, trying not to cry.

Suddenly you feel a pair of hands on your cheeks, catching you off guard.

"Y/n?" He asks. The sudden mention of your name catches you even more off guard than him touching you. Your stomach throws itself for a loop as you fling your head up. In between the mask and his big thick glasses you can barely tell that his eyes are wet, as if he's about to cry. You stare into his eyes just a little harder, and your jaw drops, It couldn't be.

"Edward?" You suck in a breath, on the verge of tears. Both of The Riddler's hands move back a little to remove the loops of your mask from behind your ears, gently lifting it off your face,

"It is you," His voice is somehow both breathy and breathless. Suddenly, you're taking off the Riddler's glasses, no warning given to him, before flinging off his thick green mask.

His face is still obfuscated by the cling wrap that surrounds his head, but you can tell who it is.

"Edward." You say, this time as a statement as you're clawing at the cellophane on his face. You toss the broken plastic wrap aside, and the two of you stare at each other with heavy glances for a moment. He looked more or less the same as he did when he was younger, he still had those soft round cheeks and gentle stare. His hair was shorter now than it was when you'd grown up with him, now that he could probably afford a haircut. He was still perfect, still Eddie.

You're acutely aware of how quickly your chest rises and falls, "I thought I was never going to see you again." You choke.

"S-so you didn't forget about me." His gloved hand caresses your cheek, and you feel at peace under his touch. Even after all these years, even knowing he's a fucking serial killer he's just as warm.

"No." You shake your head, "I- I think about you every single day." You feel a tear begin to slip down your cheek, which Edward quickly brushes away.

"I do too- hey- is it okay if I kiss you?" His demeanor is suddenly different from that when he's behind the mask. He's timid, soft-spoken, just as he'd been as a boy.

"That's all I've wanted for the last 12 years."

Edward's lips pressed against yours, and you kissed back instantaneously. His lips moved hesitantly at first, working their way back into the motions. It had been so long, but at the same time, it had seemed just yesterday that you and Edward had shared your last kiss. You felt moved to pinch yourself, just to make sure you hadn't gotten caught up in one of your many fantasies or daydreams. Nothing in your life had ever felt this good as this simple kiss. 12 years of what felt like nothing but pain, and grief simply just, slipped away while your lips melted into Eddie's.

Not really wanting to break the kiss, still, you pulled away in pure disbeleif.

"I should have known it was you," You let out a small, breathy chuckle, "Oh, who else could it have been?" You shook your head in disbelief that it ever took you this long to realize who the Riddler was. Edward chuckled slightly,

"You think it's fitting?" He asks with a smile, that same smile you'd been so desperate to see for years now.

"The Riddler..." You start, a grin appearing on your face, "it's, perfect. Perfect for you Eddie." You start to stutter a little, "I think- I think I'm just- I'm so glad we've finally stood up for yourselves- you gave me the courage to stand up for myself. Even if I... didn't really know it was you."

"You've been through so much," Edward shakes his head before caressing your cheek with his thumb, "I'm so proud of you, I've always been so proud of you."

You sniffle a little at Edward's proclamation, after all the hell you've put up with your entire life, it was all worth it just to hear Eddie utter those words.

Realizing you still had Edward's glasses in your hands, you slipped them back on over his nose, adjusting them so they were straight. Simultaneously, the two of you let out a small laugh, the action reminding you of old times.

"You know, Eddie," You exhale, "Whenever I can't sleep at night, I still think of us, now all grown up, happy, and in love. I told you I'd never let go of that fantasy." You shake your head as another tear slips down your cheek, "I never let go, I could never even try to fight it. I still love you so much."

"Y/n, you're the only person who's ever told me you loved me. And as strange as it sounds, I wouldn't change that for the world. I've never wanted to be loved by anyone that wasn't you."

You admit, your heart stings a little at his admission, but a selfish part of you enjoys it that way, unwilling to share Eddie with anyone.

"And you're the only person I've ever meant it to when I've said 'I love you."

Edward gives you a tight lipped smile, the corners of his mouth extending so far up you're afraid they might leave his face.

"I love you too Y/n, more than you could ever believe- you're why I do this- all the pain, and hurt this city has caused you- all the nights you stayed up cold and crying, you deserved so much better."

"We deserved better, Eddie, we."

Edward agreed with a nod before the two of you found yourselves with your lips interlocking again. You grabbed each side of his face with your hands before the kiss deepened slightly and you found them sliding up to his hair, gently pulling at the strands, eliciting a soft groan from him. Edward's hands moved from your cheeks to your waist, pulling you into him.

In a small act of desperation, you found yourself pressing your front against Edward as your tongue slipped into the kiss. You whined slightly as Edward playfully pinched your side before pulling back, out of breath and needy, "Please, Eddie," You whimper, "I need you."

tags (blue could not be tagged): @chaiteaandromedaa - @virginhore @ghoulsgraveyard @mommy-maia @sapphicandserendipityyy @crabravee @mothgutz-cos @babyhoneystvles @moo-is-tired @bloodypantomine

a/n: OHHHHH BOY THAT WAS A LONG ONE... I HOPE YOU ENJOYED AND, IF YOU WOULD LIKE (which I highly recommend) PLEASE LOOK AT pt2 which is out, as we speak (right now!!!!)

[womenfrommars]

I know it’s popular to pretend that culture doesn’t influence women’s oppression whatsoever, or more specifically, that all cultures influence female oppression in the exact same way. The reality, however, is quite different.

In countries with more collectivist cultures, revenge rapes are more common. Let’s say a man kill your brother. You, as a man, can avenge your brother’s death by raping the sister of the man who killed your brother. The reasoning behind this is that if a woman is raped, it brings shame upon the entire family, not just herself. In individualistic cultures, it makes little sense to punish the sister of the murderer instead of the murderer himself. They’re two different people, after all. In an individualistic culture, people can still believe a woman brings shame upon herself by getting raped, but they wouldn’t rape a woman to take revenge on someone else, typically. At most, you’ll hear stories of the wives of men getting raped as ‘’payback’’. In collectivist cultures, however, all women from the family are in danger. Similarly, if a woman dresses ‘’like a whore’’ in an individualistic culture, she brings shame upon herself. In a collectivist culture, she brings shame upon the entire family, and thus is scrutinised more heavily for the way she dresses

Another example is polygamy. In polygamous cultures, men are supposed to treat all their wives equally, meaning they cannot financially support one more than the other. In turn, this pushes up the age of marriage for men. Why? Because it takes many years to build up wealth. On the flipside, this pushes down the average age at which women get married. Why invest in a woman’s education when plenty of older men are looking for young, fertile wives whom they will support financially? In monogamous cultures, the age gap between married couples is typically lower:

Whether or not polygamy is allowed and/or accepted largely depends on religion as well. In Christianity and Judaism, monogamy is the norm, whereas in Islam, polygamy is explicitly allowed. Another important thing to mention is that Islam was created as a legal system, meaning it is very difficult to seperate Church and State in an Islamic society. Some Islamic countries even had to implement secular law to outlaw slavery, seeing as Shariah law allows for (sex) slavery. That might also explain this map, which shows the date of slavery abolition per country:

[scullyverse]

Tomorrow Will Be Interesting

Prompt by @notdeannatroi;

“I fucking love you" - "Hang up, and tell me this when you’re sober”

I haven't written anything in ages so I hope it’s okay! Just trying to get back into the swing of things :)

Also available to read on ao3

Scully gets drunk after attending a wedding and decides to call her girlfriend Stella, letting some things slips as she gets sleepy.

Stella/Scully || cute/fluff || 1.4K words || rating T (for language)

It was ticking over towards 11pm when Stella had begun to settle into bed, cradling her glass of wine in one hand and her book open in her lap. The air was crisp as she pulled the covers up onto her lap, taking a sip from her glass before placing it next to her phone on the bedside table. This had become her usual nightly routine, but tonight it just didn’t feel the same without Dana nestled next to her, flicking through either a case file or a book of her own. Stella and Dana had become close during her recovery after the Spector case when she had transferred to America to seperate herself from the memories she had back in the UK.

It was at a conference about 3 months after moving to the states that she had met the beautiful woman named Dana Scully and the instant she had bumped into her, Stella had been captivated. It had been a strange feeling as she hadn’t felt the stir of wanting in the pit of her stomach since she left the UK but the instant she had met the sparkling blue eyes of the red head, Stella could feel that little spark and knew she had to have her. Little did she know that that single night of pleasure would turn into the best thing to happen to her, probably in the entirety of the life she could remember.

After talking over some drinks for hours, Dana’s cheeks had become slightly flushed with wine and the chemistry between them was instantaneous. It hadn’t taken much for Dana to be panting in her bed hours later, fingers intertwined with no rush for Stella to want her to leave. They began to see each other more frequently and it soon turned into something more than the casual lay Stella had been used to. Over the months, Dana become a friend, lover and someone Stella began to cherish. They became exclusive and Stella found that Dana would make her way to her apartment more and more until it seemed to become a nightly thing, for Stella to fall asleep with her arms wrapped protectively around her.

Looking over to Dana’s side of her bed, now seeming much larger being empty, Stella sighed. Dana had travelled up state to attend the wedding of a friend of the family and Stella had chosen to stay behind as Dana hadn’t told her family about their relationship yet and she didn’t think the wedding would be a good time to spring their relationship on her mother and brothers. Stella had wished she could be there with her, but she understood Dana’s process and didn’t want to push her girlfriend into anything rash to potentially ruin the bonds she had with her family. Fox Mulder, Dana’s partner and best friend, was the only one who knew about them and he took pride in knowing that they trusted him enough to protect their relationship while they figured out how to tell Dana’s Catholic family about her new relationship being with a woman.

Stella jumped slightly when she heard the sharp ring of her phone through the silence that had settled in her apartment. Looking over at the phone resting on the bedside table, she smiled when she saw the radiant face of her girlfriend appear with ‘Dana Calling’ underneath. Tucking her bookmark into her book and setting it next to her, Stella reached over to grab her phone, swiping before she brought it to her ear, tossing the loose blonde curls over her shoulder.

“Hello you, I was just thinking about you” Stella said, settling back against the pillows she had propped up against the headboard.

“Hello yourself, only good things I hope?” Dana smirked, holding the phone between her ear and her shoulder as she struggled to push open the door to her hotel room before she closed it behind her with a click.

“Just how big my bed looks without you here”

Dana’s smirk turned into a warm smile as she placed her bag down on the chest of drawers, kicking off her shoes and looking around the small and slightly run down hotel room very reminiscent of the rooms she had frequented with Mulder before her eyes fell on her own single bed and scrunching up her nose. “Well I wish I was there with you too, this bed looks quite questionable and I don’t think its going to be very comfortable for the hangover I’m probably going to have in the morning, I’m definitely more than a little bit tipsy right now”

Stella gave a chuckle before she took another sip of her own wine. “How much have you had? I thought you said you weren’t going to have much”

“Well that was before this guy from my mother’s church tried to come on to me all night.” Dana slurred slightly as she rubbed her forehead, walking towards the bed before she sat down on the edge, cupping her head in her hand. “He was very persistent before I finally told him to back the fuck off”

“I would have punched the shit out of him” Stella placed her glass back down on on the table feeling a pang of jealously hit her square in the gut. “Either that or I would have made certain that everyone in that place knew you were mine in the first place”

Dana giggled as she heard the strained anger in her girlfriends voice. “Come on Stell you know you’re the only one for me, you and that amazing ass of yours”

Stella threw her head back with a laugh. “Jesus you are pissed right now aren’t you?”

“I am quite intoxicated, yes...” Dana agreed, not hiding the huge smile on her face as she stood up and struggled with the zipper on her dress, letting the black silky material fall to the floor before she stepped out of it and crawled under the sheets, the cold material hitting the skin that wasn’t encased in her underwear and bra. The moment her head hit the pillow, Dana groaned, the phone pressed against her ear as she snuggled into the mattress below. “Wish you were here” she whispered softly against the material of the pillow.

“Me too” Closing her eyes, Stella snuggled down further into bed, hearing the rustling of sheets on the other side of the phone signalling that Dana had managed to crawl into bed. Smiling Stella reached out blindly to turn off the lamp that filtered the only light into her bedroom, flushing it into darkness. “Get some sleep Dana, we can talk in the morning if you haven’t got your head in the toilet all day”

“Shut up” Smiling against the pillow, Dana could feel her body ease further into the bed as the alcohol started to take effect and dull her senses enough for drowsiness to set in. She wasn’t sure what she had done in life to find someone as special to her as Stella and she could feel a warmth of happiness settle in her chest. Before her brain could stop her mouth, she mumbled “I fucking love you”

Stella’s eyes shot open as she felt her heart jump in her throat. They hadn’t spoken those three words to each other yet, as much as Stella had wanted to every moment she spent with Dana. Stella just hadn’t been one to easily express her feelings to anyone before, but knew that what she felt for Dana was definitely love. Though she desperately wanted to say them back, she knew that now wasn’t the right time. Trust Dana to bring this up when she was already half out of it. Chuckling slightly, Stella purred “Hang up now Dana, and tell me this again when you’re sober”

All she got as a slurred and sleepy “Mmhmm okay...love you...” before there was a silence on the other end of the phone. Stella’s face broke out into a huge grin as she stared at the phone in her hand. Dana may be drunk right now but from previous experiences of her girlfriend’s intoxicated brain she was sure she would remember this conversation tomorrow morning and couldn’t wait to hopefully hear her say it again so she could tell her she loved her back. Chucking her phone down onto the bed beside her, she settled down fully onto the bed, staring up into the darkness, the smile never leaving her face. Tomorrow would certainly be interesting and she couldn’t wait.