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femmefatalevibe · 1 year

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Femme Fatale Playbook: Questions To Ask When Evaluating Your Relationships

Whether it's a friendship, colleague or professional relationship, romantic/sexual relationship, one with a family member, mentors, or with yourself. Here are some questions to ponder when trying to evaluate someone's true character and intentions. Consider the following if you think someone is trying to deceive, manipulate, love bomb, or blindside you in any way.

Do they live with integrity? Not the "I'll start tomorrow" type of integrity, but do they live in alignment with their general life philosophy, opinions, and values?

Do they take accountability for their actions, behaviors, and mistakes? Listen to whether they acknowledge their role in how a situation played out automatically when recounting a story to you. Even when another person is at fault, do they see the situation objectively? Do they play the blame game to make themselves appear like the innocent victim at all times or try to see how their actions may have consequences for others?

When you share your successes with them, is there immediate action to double down on making you feel good or do they automatically claim your win by telling them how it makes them feel or feel about you?

When you make a mistake or share a failure with them, do they seek to understand/offer support, try to distance themselves from your claim/actions, or provide unsolicited advice?

When offering criticism, do they judge your behaviors, attitude, and actions, or do they immediately start evaluating your character?

Do they engage in conversations to win or understand?

Do they make assumptions about your or your perceptions before hearing what you have to say about a particular situation? Do they ask or assume how you're feeling?

In a conflict, do they initiate a conversation by opening a dialogue or immediately jump to criticize you? Do they speak about an issue with you first directly, or do they try to get others on your side behind your back before confronting you?

Are they loyal to you, or do you believe they can "switch sides" at any time? A friend to all is a friend to none.

Do they seek connection or perceive you as a source of consistent attention? Do they ask you how you are or go on endless monologues about themselves/their struggles? When speaking about yourself to them, do they ask questions and seem curious or act dismissive in an attempt to redirect the conversation back to themselves?

Do they put effort into acknowledging your needs, interests, or preferences? Do they do favors or nice things for you that don't necessarily benefit them or relate to their interests, purely because they know you would enjoy it, without having to ask once they know you well?

Do they respect your boundaries? Do they react with understanding and compassion or rage and condescension if they cross them?

Do you feel supported or like you're nagging when expressing your needs to them? Do they value your input or say they do yet dismiss your needs through their actions?

Do they more often say or show that they're a good person? The more someone needs to validate their character, the less likely they've confronted the truth about themselves.

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princessbrunette · 5 months

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Heyyy it’s me again!

I was wondering what your take is on what would happen to Carla limberys daughter and Rafe after Rafe betrays her mom and takes the cross? Cus he definitely wont plan on leaving her behind

-🛍️

ok again, heavy themes of blasphemy and christianity here because rafe knows no limits . read at your own risk !

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

oh i think he’d convince her that the shroud will never be hers, meaning she’s going to die pretty soon and she’ll need someone to take in her daughter. he promises her you’d have a good life, being spoilt rotten, he even swears to keep her on a straight path— in touch with god.

limbrey is reluctant at first, telling him that she will get that shroud no matter what, but eventually agrees that it’s not right for you to be in her care when she’s in this state, so she sends you off to live in rafes big house :(

you’re tougher to crack than rafe expected, incredibly devout and never straying from your ways for a moment. you’re innocent beyond belief, not understanding any of rafes inappropriate jokes about you being on your knees or picking up on his references to cocaine. you didn’t even know what that was.

however, he finally gets to break you after so long trying. you come to him one night, stressed about your lack of gratitude towards him, worrying you’ll be punished in the afterlife for not showing rafe how thankful you were for taking you in. rafe sits you on his knee, biting back his laugh as he makes some reference regarding mary magdalene and the inn keeper, comparing them to you both. you listen intently with wide eyes, even blinking back tears as you nod along — rafe telling you how hard he’s been working to keep you happy and healthy.

you grasp him, telling him you’ll do anything to show your gratitude.

“anything? i mean… i’m not sure if you’re capable of fulfilling such requests, sweetheart. it’s a little uh… unorthodox.”

“anything, rafe. let me show you how thankful i am.”

which is of course how you end up on your knees between his legs, being guided through sucking him off. he’s grinning, because in all of his years of receiving blow jobs, he’s never had someone suck him off with such devotion or passion— eager to please him and clear your emotional debt.

“am i doing okay, sir?” you mewl between slurps, wet hand jerking him just like he taught you. he sits back, inhaling deeply with his hands resting on his head, in awe.

“you are doing fantastic, baby. consider this penance, yeah?”

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

#🛍️ anon #rafe cameron prompt #tw religious themes

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garden-the-goblin · 2 months

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Big fan of the reoccurring motif in fiction where god is just a little girl. Like I adore how writers came to the unanimous agreement that the most terrifying thing you could be is a little girl left to her own devices. That's good shit.

#Why is girlhood so holy?#did someone watch us at five years old and realise “that one serves no god; she must be the divine creator”?#did they watch us play dolls and collect bugs and realise our duality was sacred?#or does it stem from the thing about how the scariest thing a woman can do is eat alone?#Also religious trauma goes brrr #writers #writers on tumblr #creative writing #on writing #writing prompts

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patolemus · 4 months

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i don’t know why i am the way i am (there’s something in the static, i think i’ve been having revelations)

Rin has always been a believer. Both he and Yukio attended mass every Sunday at the monastery all their lives, grew up listening to Shiro and the other priests recite from the Bible—and this is the only book Rin knows almost by heart. The twins were baptized when they were younger, and despite his rebellious attitude, Rin has never wavered over that belief - whether that is because he was always surrounded by it or not - and it’s Yukio who’s gotten more skeptic about it as the years pass.

After Shiro dies, and Rin finds out he’s the son of Satan, Rin stops going to church. He doesn’t believe he’s welcomed at God’s house anymore, son of the original sinner that he is. He mourns the loss quietly, spending Sunday mornings in the quiet of his and Yukio’s abandoned dorm hoping he could be somewhere else.

(Alternatively, he could go to the chapel obsessively, turning his believes into a quest for absolution. Maybe if he behaves like a good Christian boy ought to do, if he follows the rules and proves Rin has not abandoned him, God will forgive him the sin of being born.)

Rin would want to have his confirmation—maybe he was in the middle of that process before Satan possessed Shiro. But now that holy instruments harm him, it’s like another sign that a demon isn’t welcomed, and that God has forsaken him. For that same reason, some of his favorite Bible verses harm him, and it’s through gritted teeth and clenched fists that he recites them in class and to himself, refusing to give them up because he’s turned tainted by his demon blood.

(When he first awakens, the night before the funeral, Rin takes a bottle full of holy water from the monastery’s reserves and tries dousing himself on them, thinking he might be able to cleanse himself of this curse with it. It burns, making his skin splotchy red and his eyes water from the pain. He’d always been able to touch it without issues before, but now it repels him. Rin falls to his knees in front of the altar, head bowed to the sculpture of Jesus crucified on the cross, and wonders for the first time if God has left him.)

(The burn fades within the hour, and Rin hates that most of all.)

Rin avoids mirrors the first few weeks after Shiro’s death, not wanting to see how he’s irrevocably changed. He hates the feeling of his longer canines when he runs his tongue over them, grimaces at the new, sharper shape of his ears, can’t barely take a look at his tail to stuff it under his shirt. He looks like he’s only just rolled out of bed, appearance shabby and unkept, but Rin prefers that to watching himself now that he’s no longer one of God’s creations.

He prays by his bedside every night - even more so now that he can’t go to mass, Rin has started praying obsessively since Shiro died - has his rosary around his neck even though it makes his skin itch and takes it everywhere he goes. He always blesses the table before eating, thanking God for the food he’s provided for them.

Every time he uses his flames, Rin feels like a sinner. This are the flames of Satan, the flames of the original sinner, God’s antithesis. Using them feels like forsaking God just like God has forsaken him, but Rin finds no joy in it. As the flames die out and Rin’s freaky demonic features recede, he bows his head and prays. “Forgive me Father, for I have sinned,” he says, trying and failing to feel better about himself.

His friends notice, after all secrets are out in the open and Rin doesn’t have to hide them anymore, and they look at him strangely for it, like his apology to God is out of the norm. Maybe they don’t think Rin would be religious, as the son of Satan. Maybe they just think it’s strange that he’s looking for absolution. They don’t comment on it until much later, when Bon tells him that he’s not a sinner just because he uses Satan’s flames. Bon is much smarter than Rin, so infinitely smarter, so Rin tries to believe him. He never stops praying though.

When he first realizes his feelings for Bon are less than platonic, his first instinct is to go to the confessionary and confess his sin. But the only priest he’s confessed to is Shiro, and Shiro is dead (Shiro is dead), and what priest would give absolution to a demon? So Rin doesn’t go, stewing on his guilt and thinking about it obsessively (“Forgive me father, for I have sinned. This is my first-tenth-hundredth-thousandth confession.” “Forgive me Father, for I want, and I do not know how to stop wanting.”). Is it because he’s the Son of Satan? Was he born a sinner, always meant to stray from God’s path like Satan did? How can he follow God’s will when he’s fallen in love with a boy?

Later, he realizes Shiro would have probably been fine with it, and if Shiro approves… maybe it’s not so wrong. Maybe Rin isn’t sinning when he looks at Bon feeling butterflies in his stomach, isn’t straying from God’s intended path when Bon’s laugh makes him happy. And if this is not a sin then maybe being a halfling isn’t either. Maybe it’s not God that has forsaken him, but the Catholic Church.

(The Vatican will never love him. They have casted him as the villain before he could even prove himself one of God’s believers, and they’ll never let him forget who his father is, and what he’s done. He’ll never be able to visit freely, to marvel at the beautiful structures and the holiness of it all. It hurts. But it hurts less than thinking he’s beyond saving, that God has given up on saving him.

The Vatican can suck it.)

Rin tries going to church again. It’s a daunting task, after days and weeks and months without stepping foot inside a chapel, but Rin finds himself sitting on the third row at the Sunday mass held near True Cross Academy, and feels the knot in his stomach loosen as he listens to the priest. It’s familiar. It’s liberating. Rin feels a little more like himself. Bon is waiting for him at the school gates when he’s done, looking immensely proud and Rin takes his hand in his and lets the feeling of contentment wash over him.

He still prays. He still blesses the table. He still recites verses of the Bible even if they hurt him, and he still refuses to go to a confessionary.

But he can stand to look at himself in the mirror now. He resumes his confirmation process, even knowing he may never be allowed the actual sacrament. He lets himself see a world where he can be the son of Satan and a good Christian, where he can love a boy who’s beautiful and good to him without disappointing God. It’s a different world than the one he lived in before, but Rin thinks it’s a world Shiro would be proud of.

It’s a start.

——————————

(This is my interpretation as I was raised Catholic and went to a Catholic school all my life. I’m nowhere near as devoted as I’m making Rin here lol, but I grew up around Catholic religion and know people who are very hardcore Catholics, so this, as well as my own religious education, is where I draw my knowledge from.)

(Also, I want to clarify that a lot of Rin’s thoughts are in no way healthy, and he will grow to let go of them in time. This is the result of a very traumatic situation that left him stranded with no sense of direction, and some of his actions stem from a need to overcompensate for being half demon. He’ll get better as he learns to deal with that reality.)

Update: my brain won’t stop eating at me so this has turned into a thing (tm). Let’s call it revelations au because I think I’m funny. You can find all my posts about it through that tag in my profile.

#patolemus thinks #that never ends well #the religious guilt!au I didn’t know I needed #this might turn into an actual fic who knows #definitely not me #rin okumura #my baby is going through it #bonrin #rin x bon #ao no exorcist #blue exorcist #religion #religious guilt #fanfic #fanfiction #writing prompt #revelations au

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save-the-villainous-cat · 10 months

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Hiii, just dropping a request<3

There's nothing I adore more than a good, old, sweet betrayal so pls make the villain offer a lot of money to superhero just to turn the hero in and have them all by themselves. Make the superhero and the league betray hero, drug them and take them to villain. For whatever reason. May that be to take their time to break them or due to possessiveness. It's one of my really loved tropes so I'd love it a lot if you wrote it. Make it extra angsty for us pls

That's all, thank you for providing us with your amazing work but make sure to rest well and stay hydrated. Much love to you sweetheart 🩶🩵

“I’ve missed you,” the villain said softly, their hands landing on the hero’s shoulders. “I’m so glad you’re back.”

Their hands ran down the hero’s throat and with one finger, they lifted their chin. Despite their raw nature, the hero was much too tired to fight it. The drug had exhausted them.

“Look at me,” the villain said. “It’s such a pleasure to have you here.”

And the hero did meet their eyes. Lingering longer than they wanted. It wasn’t easy to escape the villain but that one moment of hope when they’d gone back home a month ago, was insignificant now.

They realised, they couldn’t win. The villain would do anything to possess them. They’d break their knees (they’d done it before), they would drug them (had also happened), they would break into their apartment (more than twice, actually) and do absolutely anything in their power to have them.

And they’d gotten their wish.

“You know I’ll get you whatever you want.”

Living with the villain sounded like a secure future. They’d take care of anything, literally anything but the hero also knew how lonely it was.

There was the villain and nothing but the villain. No friends, no family. The villain was greedy and stupidly in love.

So, the hero’s fingers curled around their nemesis’ hand. It was a fake kind of security but, god, they preferred it over whatever had happened to them. Where had friends led them? Right back to the start, right back to zero. It was a cycle, an endless one.

“Am I really that replaceable?” they whispered, staring in horror at the security footage the villain was showing them. The villain raised their hand to kiss the hero’s.

“Sweetheart, you know you’re not. Everybody knows,” they said.

“Why did they give up on me? I don’t understand, I don’t…” The hero looked at their nemesis, searching for an answer, searching for something. A moment of clarity, a moment of complete and utter clearness. But everything was blurry, everything was falling apart. They were unwanted, unloved.

They didn’t feel like a person anymore. The villain wanted them in a shallow way, they didn’t care about them. Not really.

Bleeding out like a sacrificial lamb.

The villain’s fingers traced the hero’s spine, all the way down and the hero was quite aware that they admired them. Wanting and deserving are two very different things.

“What does it feel like?” the villain whispered. “Knowing that you’re with me again?”

“Like I’m back in hell,” the hero answered. They swallowed and let themselves sink into the villain’s office chair, rubbing their face with the palm of their hand.

“Oh, come on. It’s not that bad.” Again, the villain’s hand was on them, touching their throat and going down to their collarbone. They weren’t scandalous, never tried more than that. As if they wanted an actual relationship with consent and love. But the hero knew that this would never happen, that they would never break to become a pawn.

“It is, I resent you.”

“I saved you. I showed you what these people did to you. They don’t care about you. They knocked you out of their heaven, so they could live more luxuriously. These people love money more than company. I don’t,” the villain said, angry now. “The word became flesh.”

The hero looked at them, frowning.

“Are you religious?”

“Not in the slightest,” they answered. “But when I look at you, I sometimes believe that I am.”

The hero hated that answer more than anything.

#we need you #forgive me for the religious themes I don’t know what’s wrong with me #writing snippet #heroxvillain snippet #heroes and villains #heroxvillain prompt #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #an answer for an ask #request

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justbreakonme · 9 months

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Hi! I don’t know if you’re taking asks right now, but if you are, could you maybe write some whumpee deconditioning?

Oh this is right up my alley…

Caretaker sat outside on the porch, looking out over the dry grass and gravel drive. There was no one around for miles, well, no one but Whumpee.

He still didn’t know much about where he had come from, mostly that it was not a place he ever wanted to visit. He’d found him curled up in the barn, wedged in between hay bales as tightly as he could managed, like that was gonna do much against the below freezing temperatures. Caretaker was glad he’d thought to double check on the cats, otherwise, who knows if the kid would have made it through the night.

He’d yanked him inside and ripped into him, saying his parents were probably worried sick, and only when he’d ran out of breath did he see the hand shaped bruises, the burns…the belt marks. All through everything, whumpee hadn’t managed a word, merely stared blankly into the middle distance, trembling like a leaf.

That was almost three months ago now, and snow had given way to dead grass and the beginnings of spring, and Whumpee had stayed with Caretaker.

He slept in a real bed, not in a barn, and they ate meals together at a proper kitchen table, and he helped out around the property like he’d lived there all his life. And that was where the normalcy ended.

It was like he couldn’t remember, not in his mind at least. But the things he did were a different story. As horrible as it was, he had expected the flinching. The skittishness, the way he avoided fireplace pokers and belts like the plague. But there were other things that he just hadn’t puzzled out yet.

The biggest problem was that there was something about books that set him on edge. Caretaker was an avid reader, and there was not much he liked better than cracking open a book and sitting back on the porch, but whenever he did, whumpee acted…odd.

He’d watch from the kitchen window, then duck away when he’d look back, and if, after he looked back, he got up and came inside, it would trigger a panic attack like nothing else.

Usually, when whumpee got scared, they went still, and silent, aside from quick, short breaths, his head ducked and his hands clasped in front of him. Those were…easier, in some ways, to deal with. He had worked out that whumpee was needing forgiveness, or reassurance that he hadn’t done anything wrong, or that no one was mad at him. Once that “sunk in”, he would be able to calm down, slowly, but better the others.

The “book scares” as he had started to refer to them in his own mind, would have whumpee scrambling for cover, his hands up in a defensive position, and he would beg and cry that he was sorry, that he would be better, that he didn’t mean to, but he would never say what he was sorry for, and no amount of questions, in the moment or after it, would help caretaker figure it out. It was like even whumpee wouldn’t know.

He didn’t even know how to really calm whumpee down, all he was ever able to do was help him crash safely. He’d tell him to go sit in bed and calm down, and that he wasn’t in trouble, but he would still hear him crying for hours, and would find him passed out, exhausted, on top of the covers in his bed, tear tracks still drying on his cheeks.

He just…couldn’t figure it out.

Caretaker could feel whumpees eyes on the back of his head through the open window. He fought the urge to turn around, and instead, had an idea. He faked a yawn, and a satisfied sigh, and closed his book. He stretched, and snuck a sideways glance over his shoulder to see him watching.

He looked…hopeful, but still ducked away Was that a good sign? He took a deep breath, and decided to try something else. Very gently, he called. “Hey, Whumpee? Could you bring me a pen?”

He didn’t know what to ask for, but Whumpee hadn’t had any reactions to pens or the like, and it was something he could find easily.

“Y-Yes sir!”

Caretaker winced at the eager panic in his voice, and the way he practically ran for the cup of pens by the phone. He was out the door, presenting the pen, in seconds, his hands shaking but still lucid and not lost to panic yet.

“Thank you,” he takes the pen, and gives whumpee a smile, “would you feel like joining me?”

He gestured to the other rocking chair, and Whumpees breath hitched as he darted a glance up for just a second, searching Caretakers face.

He seemed to determine it was the right answer, and nodded, quickly. “Thank you sir.” It was like watching someone held at gunpoint, the way he sat so carefully, the white knuckle grip he held on the armrests.

“It’s nice weather out here, huh? Finally starting to warm up…” he didn’t know what else to say, hell, they’d probably had less than ten conversations that weren’t about what they were going to do or how to do something.

“Yes sir, it is…” He moved his hands to his lap, still not relaxing even the slightest, but his tone seemed less…stiff.

He wished he’d thought this out a little further, thought of more to talk about than the weather. In a way, he hadn’t planned because he didn’t really expect to get this far.

He took another deep breath, figuring he might as well not beat around the bush. “When I come and sit out here and read, I can tell it makes you worried…” Whumpee flinched, hard.

“Look, you aren’t in trouble, you didn’t do anything wrong, I just want to understand why…” caretaker added quickly, shifting to turn his full attention towards Whumpee.

That proved to be a bad idea. Whumpee shrank back in the chair, eyes wide and blank like a deer in the headlights, his mouth open but no words escaping.

“Hey, hey, I didn’t bring it up because I was annoyed or anything… you’re a good kid whumpee, and I don’t want you to always feel like you’re in trouble cause you’re not. Alright?”

It didn’t seem like Whumpee could even hear him. He still just stared forward, his back pressed painfully hard up against the back of the chair.

“Hey, whumpee, you’re okay, you’re good. Can you hear me?”

The question at least seemed to trigger something, and he nodded quickly, tears starting to pool in his eyes. “Good, good, you’re doing great, kid. Look, I just want you to know that you’re okay, right?”

Whumpee nodded again, and Caretaker could tell he was holding his breath.

“It’s okay if you feel like crying, you can, you won’t be in trouble… I just was hoping to find a way to…I dunno, not scare you so much.”

There’s a moment of silence, whumpee still not breathing, then, it was like it all flooded out at once. A sob seemed to rip out of him, and he sank to his knees in front of caretaker, clasping his hands together as if in prayer.

“P-please… I don’t know what- what to do. What do you want me to d-do? I will, I will, I promise- Please, ju-just tell me, please!”

He was shaking so badly that it was making his teeth chatter, and though Caretaker couldn’t see his face from this angle, he knew it would be screwed up in fear and grief like it always was in moments like these.

Shoving his own chair back, Caretaker sank down to meet whumpee on his knees, putting a hand over his clasped ones. “I want you to be able to relax, okay? I want you to trust me. Trust that I’m not going to hurt you, that you’re safe here with me, okay?”

“I can’t!”

Whumpee immediately clapped his hands over his own mouth in horror. “I’m sorry- I didn’t- I- I-“

Caretaker could hear the way he was winding himself up, the reedy, wheezing breathing that was starting to take over, and he couldn’t let him keep going.

“Okay. Thank you for telling me.”

The tone of his voice was calm, matter of fact, but it seemed to stop Whumpee dead in surprise. He was still struggling to breathe, little hitches interrupting every breath, but at least he was still breathing.

“I’m glad that you were able to be honest, and so that we can work together, okay? That was really, really good kid.”

“R-really?” The look in his eyes was both awestruck and disbelieving, but Caretaker would prefer that over terror any day.

“Yeah. Really. Now, when you said you can’t, did you mean you couldn’t relax, or that you couldn’t trust me, or both?” Caretaker cut himself off, raising a hand gently, “It is okay, whatever answer it is. I just want to know.”

Whumpee was starting to panic again, his eyes darting from the ground then to Caretakers face and down again.

“Both.”

“Okay! Now, we can start off on the same page,” Caretaker gently squeezed his hand around both of Whumpees, “Is there anything that I can do that would make you feel more safe?”

Whumpee just cried harder for a moment, and he wondered if he had pushed too far, when he finally managed a weak “I don’t know…”

Caretaker opened his mouth to speak, but Whumpee kept going. “I want to, I want to, you’ve been nothing but good to me and I want to obey- I don’t know how- I’m so sorry…”

“Hey- Hey, kid, the last thing on my mind is obedience, I just don’t want you be afraid all the time… You’re a good kid, you shouldn’t have to feel afraid.”

To caretakers surprise, whumpee laughed, a quick short burst before seeming to get himself under control. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to- I just, I doubt I’ve ever been ‘not afraid’ my whole life.” He sneaks a glance at Caretakers face, the drops his eyes to the ground again.

Caretaker sighed, feeling his heart pinch. “That’s okay… I’ve never had anyone else on this farm. We’ll just have to learn together.”

Whumpee nodded quickly, seemingly trying to get himself back under his own tight fisted control. “Whumpee, how about you sit out here with me for a bit?”

Whumpee nods, and caretaker relaxes a bit. But, he still wants to know why reading set him on such a narrow edge.

They both ease back into their seats, and caretaker looks around for a change of subject. To his delight, just at that moment, a bird flew into view and perched on one of the trees nearby.

“Hey, look at that! That’s a robin, it’s really starting to warm up. They start to show up in the spring, and that’s the first one I’ve seen this season.”

Whumpee squinted, then nodded, but, caretaker could tell he hadn’t actually seen it, only pretended to. Could he see it? The way he squinted made caretaker wonder if he could need glasses…

“Here, it’s far away, I’ve got a better picture,” slowly, he reaches for his book, and flips it open to the right page, “See?”

Whumpee still tensed up, but, didn’t panic. He looked, genuine interest showing on his face for the first time he’d ever seen.

“It’s a beautiful bird sir…” Whumpee managed, looking up again before letting his eyes fall back to the book.

“Yeah… and there’ll be more, soon.”

He nods, the slightest grace of a smile on his face.

“Is this the book you thought I would be reading? A book about birds?”

Whumpee tensed further, but still didn’t panic, thankfully. “No sir.”

“Is that…good?”

Whumpees breathing stopped, and Caretaker backpedaled. “That’s a bit to open ended, huh? Could you tell me what you thought I might be reading?”

That was better. Whumpee took a deep breath. “The Bible, sir.”

Caretaker felt his heart sink, but also relief. That explained…a lot.

He forced himself to keep the conversation light, knowing the next few questions he was going to need to ask would be hard. “No, just the bird bible I suppose…” he laughs, setting it back down, and though whumpee didn’t laugh, he did relax slightly further.

“Where you were before, after they read the bible, would you be in danger? Is that why it scares you?”

“Yes,” he takes another deep breath, then another, winding himself up once more, “We’d- We would have a sermon, after, and then… sins would be- would be forgiven.”

“Oh…” So that’s why caretaker could never figure out what Whumpee had thought he’d done wrong. He hadn’t been told yet what sins he’d committed.

“I sh-should not be afraid. Sparing the rod spoils the child, I understand, but-“ Whumpee sniffed, and tears dotted the knees of his jeans, “Sometimes I thought I was going to die…”

“Whumpee…” was all Caretaker could manage, horror taking over everything else.

“I d-didn’t want to die with- with sins unforgiven.”

“Kid… that’s- you don’t- that’s not forgiveness, that’s not fair at all…”

Whumpee just shook their head, wiping their eyes.

“Do you- do you still feel like you need to hurt to be forgiven?”

“I do. That’s- that’s what it takes.”

The uncharacteristic steadiness of that sentence made Caretaker very, very worried. “No, no that’s not right. Whumpee, have you been- when I tell you to go to your room, what do you do?”

“I-“ Whumpee had picked quickly on the shift in his tone, the underlying accusation, and seemed to brace himself for the answer he had to give, “I deal with them myself.”

“How?”

Whumpee just shakes his head again, pulling back further, and he wraps his arms around himself like a hug.

“Whumpee, you have to tell me, what have you been doing?” He needed to know, needed to stop this, stop it now.

He shook his head harder, and now Caretaker was caught with an impossible decision. He doubted he could force the answer out of whumpee, but he also couldn’t just let this go, not something like this.

“Whumpee, please, please just tell me. Please don’t make me have to ask again…” He wracked his brain for what was in his room, how any of it could be used in the wrong way, but he was drawing a blank…

“Are- are you going to make me stop?”

“Yes, I have to. You can’t- it’s not- I’ll forgive you, okay? I’ll do it, if you need to be forgiven, I’ll do it. Okay?”

Whumpee looked up, not just a quick glance but held his eyes for a moment. Fear, relief, sadness, all flashed by, but the one that held steady through it all was this bone deep, haunting sense of exhaustion… Whumpee looked defeated.

“I unscrew the top of the bed post… the screw in the bottom is sharp, but, it’s not enough. Please…” Whumpee reached forward with both hands, grabbing one of Caretakers, “please forgive me, please!”

“You have to tell me what you did wrong…” he’s stalling, trying to avoid having to deny Whumpee the “forgiveness” that he wanted so badly.

“I don’t know- I don’t know but I know I have done wrong, but I always do- I know it!”

“Whumpee-“

“You said, you said you’d do it-“

“But I have to know what you did, because I don’t think you did anything wrong.”

Whumpee let go, hitting his forehead with the heels of his hands as he sobbed. “You said! I n-need- I need to be forgiven- I need to be punished!”

“No you don’t!” Without realizing, he had reached over and grabbed Whumpee by the wrists, shaking him, “You don’t need to be hurt, you don’t have to!”

Whumpee shook his head over and over, practically howling as he struggled to free his wrists.

“Please, whumpee, please stop, stop! Listen to me kid, you don’t have to do this!”

“I do, I do, I do I do I do!”

“No, you DON’T!”

Caretaker hasn’t meant to yell, and he instantly regretted it. Whumpee stopped, his chest heaving as he tried to stop crying.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he loosens his grip on whumpees wrists, “Forgiveness doesn’t mean you need to be hurt. I need you to trust me on this. I need you to try.”

Whumpee drew his hands away, hugging himself again, and nodded. Caretaker didn’t know if he nodded because he agreed, or because he was afraid not to. At the moment, Caretaker would take either, as long as whumpee would be unharmed.

“Whumpee… Just sit out here with me. I’ll get us some tea, and we’ll watch the birds. You won’t have anything to be forgiven for.”

He shakes his head again.

“What is wrong about that?”

“There should be…no joy except through God.”

“So, you think you need to be forgiven, for being happy?”

He nods quickly. “You- you’ve been so good to me, and- It means I need more forgiveness.”

Guilt settled in a heavy layer over him, even though there was no way he could have known.

“But-“ he wracked his brain for half-forgotten Sunday school lessons, “God created everything, right?”

“Every leaf, on every tree.”

Caretaker had never believed in God, but, now he knew he had to speak for him.

“Every bird? Every breeze? Every sunset?”

Whumpee nodded, eyes on his knees.

“He made every leaf of tea and every grain of sugar?”

He nodded again, eyes still down.

“Then, how could it be wrong to sit outside, and admire his creation?”

Whumpee looked up, stunned, and then out to the dry grass, the gravel drive…

“So, how about that tea?”

“Okay..”

“Great,” Caretaker felt like he could breath again, “I’ll be right back then.”

When Caretaker came back, Whumpee accepted the glass of tea carefully, and, when his eyes met Caretakers, some of the exhaustion had melted away.

They sat, and watched the birds, until the tea glasses held nothing but ice and they had looked through every picture of every bird in his book.

It would take time, and it would take work, and trust, and lots and lots of questions, but, things would get better.

#I’m trying to get to all my asks #this was written in a 4 am burst so please forgive its failings #religion mention #religious trauma #self harm #tw self harm #deconditioning #whumpee #conditioned whumpee #religious whump #whump scenario #whump prompt #whump writing #rescue

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