#Islamic Spells

[dragonwaggon]

Hello, everyone, it's been a long time since I've posted consistently, but I've got a whole new way to engage and discuss in spirituality, religion, and otherkin for you.

Wanna talk to people from other faiths? Wanna talk to people about your faith? Wanna discuss past lives, the afterlife, and all of the nonsense that comes in-between?

Join us at Spirits and Such - Practitioners Hangout!

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[ome-magical-ramblings]

Setting Light into the past, for spells, ancestors and beyond.

Setting light is a common practice in a lot of tradition, spiritual lamps are used EVERYWHERE...so it isn't very restrictive to one tradition but as a concept that you can tweak your petitions and your intentions when you set it, I hope that people try it and report back :D

A candle burn straight down, but the light it gives off goes all the way and around. It goes forward, backward, and all around...That's how we are as human when we are "time" burns one way, but the light it gives off is all around. That's how time is, that's how our spiritual families are, that's how a lot of magical work should be, by reaching into the past. Even if I say this in a million way, don't do a candle spell to change the future, change the future by setting that light into the past.

The spiritual dead people who are connected with you by blood, by soul, and by actions are many and as many as the grains of sand in the world. To think of that it's only a backward motion is to only look at them as dead people not as people in different stages in their "life", the difference between them is the difference between an old person and a baby. Not much except time have passed. Really what you think of as ancestral predecessors are only what you see, hear, touch from your own "genetics" but if that was the only way we live, we wouldn't have spiritual heroes like the prophets, saints, righteous people, immortals, wanderer, hermits and so on. The world as we know it is only the tip of the iceberg for the whole "world" as it is. To assume that it only extend to your family is to assume that your family is only related to you by blood and nothing more. Your Ancestors from the start till today are all here and listening carefully to each letter you read, and each word you speak for they carry their weight for them as your words are the "scale" by which they can elevate and evaluate you, it's not a one-way street or two-way street, the streets and paths are endless as the street and paths in sand tracks, YES there are easily more identifiable ones but that's not important, what's important is that you go to each path and "Call" with a sincere heart and offer a sincere word, that's what really carries the Word not if this path is more identifiable than that path. Light, and it was there. To close off, instead of praying to someone to improve, pray to their ancestors, send your prayers of light to their "spiritual family", let it go beyond in time to the past. That's the important thing, there's a million way to skin a cat and reach Rome and this is my way of opening up a different approach to the petition and workings you do, REACH into the past and work with that. The past is just as malleable as the future, and the present is the only thing we "have" and can work with to influence all other points. Remember, Your future and past are two columns by which you enter the mysteries of the holy temple of God and Time. Let the Light go into the past and see it illuminate you right now. His light is like a niche in which there is a lamp, the lamp is in a crystal, the crystal is like a shining star, lit from ˹the oil of˺ a blessed olive tree, ˹located˺ neither to the east nor the west, whose oil would almost glow, even without being touched by fire. Light upon light!

[archxbane]

seeing people say they gonna move to places like Europe cause of the election is funny. it shows ignorance, you really think they ain’t doing the same shit over there? like people and the politicians don’t like trump? this man is an inspiration

also funny to those who are non poc say they will move sooo easily. haha, they have much less to worry about

europe isn’t some savior or haven place

people are so focus and hating on America they are snide and don’t even look at what’s going on in their own country.

brother in christ fascism is on the rise, more right wing people are elected and the way they view migrants is no different then in America

[okayto]

Starting to suspect this senior didn't proofread their survey before sending it to the masses

[the-sslimmest-shady]

How would yall feel if I started insane posting about my batshit self-made religion

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[johnbrand]

The Power of a Name

With @next-pharaoh

The power of a name is something more influential than most people realize. It created an individual, maintained their identity that had been crafted from the womb up until that very point. It interacted with the world around them, choosing their friends, their enemies, their brothers and their lovers. Names decide brains or brawns, cools or fools, the ins and the outs of every living thing. If it was not for names, then who would we even be?

So imagine the power of a name when it is used for the good of a movement, one that has been silently expanding for hundreds of years. While other cultures were fighting wars and attempting to outscore one another, this particular movement stealthily expanded its ranks. Lineage and ancestry can be traced back through countless generations of the male line thanks to this work. Of course, we are speaking of Arabization.

There are obvious reasons as to why this movement is so strong and only has the potential to further dominate. First and most importantly, the Arab-Islamic culture exemplifies masculine ideals, creating stronger men after every new breed. Higher testosterone levels, unbreakable fraternal bonds, governing genetic codes. Their desert-bound history created more aggressive, competitive, and territorial behavior; their strict religious conviction maintain higher levels of confidence and, by right, superiority.

But if this movement is silent, then how are we able to visualize its effects? Consider the following facts: While numbers in almost all historically-dominant religions are dropping, the current Muslim population is predicted to grow more than twice in size by 2060. Islam, and the core values of Arabization along with it, will surpass Christianity as the largest religion in the world in just 25 years.

Reflecting on a local level will help illustrate these details. The branch of mathematics most widely practiced, taught, and respected is algebra, a rhetoric developed into what we use today by Muslim scholars. Arabic speakers have increased by 276% since 1910, with English speakers at 221%, Hindi speakers by 118%, and Mandarin Chinese speakers only by 96% over the same period. The Arabic name Muhammad has risen to become the top-reported baby name in the entire world when all its spellings are counted together, with Amir, Malik, Nasir, and Xavier following close behind.

With all this in mind, how has the Arabization movement utilized the power of a name? How about we make this more personal. Consider the average man, 25 years old, 5’9, and weighs roughly 197 pounds. He is flabby and balding, already considered past his prime at such a young age. Works a meaningless job, lives a meaningless life. His pale skin is a reflection of the blank resume representing his past, present, and future. All this, until a guiding Arab brother calls him by the wrong name.

“Omar!” Omar? But that was not his name. “Omar!” He hears it again, this time from a local. Eventually it seems to resonate with the people around him. At first, this average man was puzzled, but the constant repetition of the name gradually begins to rub softer, washing over his body and smoothing out his ridges. Every "Omar" scrubbed off a piece of his past, better aligning him with a brighter, browner future. 

It could start somewhere as vulnerable as porn, the average man filtering through and discarding any videos that do not feature the Arab male. Perhaps his playlists begin to reformat with Arab music, its rhythms and verses constantly playing to further seep into his brain. This restructuring can appear in the home too with a space decorated by Arab imagery, and like a vine it delicately extends further inwards and invades the average man’s very place of rest.

Soon, his interactions with the world around him begin to change. A new Arabic word slips into his everyday language, his connections and role models shift to solely Islamic men, his clothing habits adapt to his beckoning lifestyle. Generic becomes expensive, branded athleisure wear, business becomes religious attire. Each time that new name is uttered, the “Omar” inside inches a little further out.

Eventually, that “Omar” has extended far enough that the results become visibly present. The average man grows taller, broader, his fat stretched against a burgeoning muscular glory. Arms bloat thicker, legs bulge wider. His skin bronzes into a shade of brown that can only be defined as perfection, his hair blackens and thickens across his entire body. The jaw stretches, the nose inflates, the brows and lips protrude. And so too does the average man’s package, its sole purpose to breed future Arabs with its potent seed.

And once "Omar" passes the point of resonation and reaches familiarity, the average man will vanish. The power of a name, his name, Omar, means “long-living, flourishing” in Arabic, his language. And he represents it. An alpha male, an Arab male, a purebred Muslim who understands his mission. So now, Omar takes out his phone and texts a complete stranger, another average man, and simply addresses him as "Ahmed". And the cycle begins once more, the power of a name exploited for the greater good of Arabization.

[the-mortuary-witch]

DIFFERENCES BETWEEN SATANISM, WITCHCRAFT, AND PAGANISM

Satanism is a religious or spiritual philosophy that venerates or reveres the figure of Satan, often symbolizing individualism, personal freedom, and human nature.

Witchcraft is a form of magic or spirituality that involves the use of spells or rituals to achieve specific results.

Paganism is a term used to describe various systems of polytheistic or animistic religions that pre-date christianity and Islam.

While there may be some overlap or similarities between these belief systems, they are distinct and different in their own right.

[pomefioredove]

Saw you took specific requests. Here's mine:

Jamil with a religious reader who gives him a protection talisman.

Fun fact, prayer beads are used in multiple religions as they help count prayers (Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism, etc).

So let's say reader comes from a world where magic exists but it's exclusively on religious grounds. Meaning if you wanna do magic you gotta pray to the right god or make a deal with some form of mythological creature.

Reader knows that Jamil's is always in danger due to the constant assassination attempts on Kalim, so they make a set of prayer beads and ask a diety to bless it in order to protect their boyfriend (could be Allah, Indra, Shiva, Buddha, Susanoo, whichever). Jamil accepts it and heads back home appreciating the sentiment but not really believing.

Except any form of danger keeps getting thwarted. Drink/food he's trying is poisoned? Conveniently spills over/has a whole in the bottom. Accident happens? Conveniently pushed out of the way. Someone tries to hurt him/kill him? Struck by lightning and straight up dies.

Not even his own parents are safe. They try to slap him to "discipline him" then they get zapped (lightly tho).

you know!!! I love this prompt so much... I'm a religious studies major so this kinda stuff is so ^w^ to me I get so excited.

summary: giving jamil a protection spell type of post: short fic characters: jamil additional info: reader is gender neutral, the existence of religious beliefs in twst is. confusing. so we're keeping it vague, not proofread, reader is yuu

Perhaps it was because your world was still considered "magicless" by Twisted Wonderland standards, or perhaps Jamil was never superstitious to begin with.

Either way, he wasn't exactly as excited as you'd been hoping for.

"It's nice. Did you make it yourself?" he asks, inspecting the beads. "A bracelet?"

"Prayer beads, actually. And yes, I did,"

"It's well made. What's the purpose?"

You hesitate. The nature of religion in this world is still confusing to you, although you can surmise there's got to be some kind of belief system. It's best not touching on for now.

Besides, Jamil has never been much of a believer in higher powers. For good reason.

"For protection," you explain. "Not that I think you can't handle yourself. But I worry about you over break, you know..."

He's quiet for a moment, inspecting the gift in the palm of his hand. And then he tucks the beads away in his pocket and smiles.

"I'll keep them with me, then. Thank you,"

Even if he's not exactly keen on the idea that these things will make his life any less terrible, they're from you.

And so he keeps his promise, and tucks them away after you part.

By the time he's "home" (back in Kalim's family home) he's all but forgotten about the little blessing at the bottom of his pocket. Not that you can really blame him- "vacation" is more of a title than a reality when he's back.

The first incident happens not even a day after.

The al-Asim summer mansion is certainly nothing to scoff at. Though it's only one of many, this one in particular houses a large sum of physical treasures, line with gold and ivory, stuffed full of spices and all the makings of a feast that could feed thousands, a shining jewel of the desert.

Jamil is not all that impressed.

Especially when it comes to navigating such an ornate building on orders. The polished-to-perfection floors present a challenge when you're carrying three crates worth of grain to the kitchen on the lowest floor.

Damn these stairs.

Though Jamil may not be a religious man, he still asks whatever deity may be up there to smite the slippery spiral staircase he's descending.

His arms strain to uphold the weight of the boxes, and his legs strain to keep a good footing on one of the many long and elaborate and narrow servant passages designed specifically so that the unwanted workers of the family can slip by undetected.

Quiet, diligent, and he has to be quick, too. Kalim is expecting him for a game in one of the many lounges soon.

Another unfortunate "vacation". How he'd much rather be spending it with you...

For a brief moment, Jamil swears he can feel the beads in his pocket warm against him, reminding him of their presence.

And then he slips.

The crates free themselves from his careful grasp and tumble down the stairs, creaking and thudding but mercifully staying intact.

Jamil, however, isn't made of wood. He winces as he feels himself tilting forward- and then... somehow, a strong draft pushes him on his back.

He lands just shy of his tailbone, luckily not hurting anything, except for his pride.

What a turn of luck.

The next happens at dinner.

Jamil keeps his earlier blunder to himself. His pride is damaged enough as it is, after all, and so he tries his best to conceal how shaken up the experience left him by moving swiftly across the kitchen.

"We have a dish ready for you to test," someone shouts.

He sighs. How many more evenings of this will he have to endure?

Though, he reminds himself- this may always be his last.

The thought makes Jamil chuckle as he's handed a hot dish and a clean fork. He can only stop to smell the roses for so long, so there's no chance of savoring such an exquisitely prepared meal before he's off to another part of the kitchen.

Just as the fork digs into the food, the dish slips out of his hand and shatters on the kitchen floor. Everyone falls silent.

His eyes widen. "How- ugh. My apologies,"

Now this is just getting ridiculous. How clumsy can he get in one evening? He's usually much more careful...

"Look," the head chef says, the whole kitchen crowding around the food as it dissolves.

Jamil's stomach lurches. Cyanide. It has to be. If he'd eaten that dish right there and then...

The kitchen is swiftly cleared out, and he's sent back to the lounge.

it only gets stranger from there.

What Jamil initially wrote off as clumsiness and luck seems to become a pattern-

a flying arrow at the archery range just narrowly misses him when he bends down to fix his sandal.

The al-Asim family tiger (because of course they have one) chooses to toy with a visiting prince rather than him in the courtyard.

A strong draft pushes him on his rear end seconds before a sandbag falls from an under-construction part of the mansion.

He would call it fortune if he believed in such a thing.

By the end of the vacation, everyone is absolutely perplexed by his string of good luck. Jamil isn't unfamiliar with how dangerous his family's position in life is, and he's had his fair share of injuries as a result, but this time all he has to show for it is a slightly lesser sense of annoyance than usual.

It's only the end of the trip where he ponders (unfortunately aloud) about the string of coincidences, and the beads in his pocket.

Kalim goes on to babble about Jamil's "good luck charm" to anyone who will listen, much to his annoyance.

"Oh, I want one too! Can you ask them to make me one, too?" he says, folding his hands in a pleading motion. "It's so pretty!"

"It was a gift. But... I suppose I can ask..." he sighs, and then smiles to himself.

Of course you'll come up with some excuse to say no. Because, for once, this charm is all his.

[ca-dmv-bot]

Customer: GRANDKID INITIALS DMV: Dajjal is an evil figure in Islamic eschatology. He is to appear pretending to be the Masih (i.e. the Messiah) at a time in the future. (Islam's Antichrist) not out with correct spelling.. Verdict: ACCEPTED

[communist-ojou-sama]

Do you ever think about how the US has imposed military dictatorship on the Egyptian people for decades because a democratic Egypt would spell the end of the Zionist Entity in a matter of months and what it has delivered the Egyptian people as recompense for the indignity and humiliation living under a Zionist dictatorship is a lower GDP per capita than the Islamic Republic of Iran, which the US has been trying unsuccessfully to render a pariah state since 1979

[nicklloydnow]

“May I be permitted to say a few words? I am an Edinburgh graduate (MA 1975) who studied Persian, Arabic & Islamic History under William Montgomery Watt & Laurence Elwell Sutton, 2 of Britain ‘s great Middle East experts. I later went on to do a PhD at Cambridge & to teach Arabic & Islamic Studies at Newcastle University . Naturally, I am the author of several books & 100s of articles in this field.

I say all that to show that I am well informed in Middle Eastern affairs & that, for that reason, I am shocked & disheartened for a simple reason: there is not & has never been a system of apartheid in Israel. That is not my opinion, that is fact that can be tested against reality should anyone choose to visit Israel.

Let me spell this out, since I have the impression that many students are absolutely clueless in matters concerning Israel, & that they are, in all likelihood, the victims of extremely biased propaganda coming from the anti-Israel lobby.

Hating Israel

Being anti-Israel is not in itself objectionable. But I’m not talking about ordinary criticism of Israel . I’m speaking of a hatred that permits itself no boundaries in the lies & myths it pours out. Thus, Israel is repeatedly referred to as a “Nazi” state. In what sense is this true, even as a metaphor? Where are the Israeli concentration camps? The einzatsgruppen? The SS? The Nuremberg Laws?

None of these things nor anything remotely resembling them exists in Israel, precisely because the Jews, more than anyone on earth, understand what Nazism stood for. It is claimed that there has been an Israeli Holocaust in Gaza (or elsewhere). Where? When?

No honest historian would treat that claim with anything but the contempt. But calling Jews Nazis and saying they have committed a Holocaust is a way to subvert historical fact. Likewise apartheid.

No Apartheid

For apartheid to exist, there would have to be a situation that closely resembled how things were in South Africa under the apartheid regime. Unfortunately for those who believe this, a day in any part of Israel would be enough to show how ridiculous this is.

The most obvious focus for apartheid would be the country’s 20% Arab population. Under Israeli law, Arab Israelis have exactly the same rights as Jews or anyone else; Muslims have the same rights as Jews or Christians; Baha’is, severely persecuted in Iran, flourish in Israel, where they have their world center; Ahmadi Muslims, severely persecuted in Pakistan & elsewhere, are kept safe by Israel; or anyone else; the holy places of all religions are protected by Israeli law.

Free Arab Israelis

Arabs form 20% of the university population (an exact echo of their percentage in the general population). In Iran , the Bahai’s (the largest religious minority) are forbidden to study in any university or to run their own universities: why aren’t your members boycotting Iran ?

Arabs in Israel can go anywhere they want, unlike blacks in apartheid South Africa. They use public transport, they eat in restaurants, they go to swimming pools, they use libraries, they go to cinemas alongside Jews — something no blacks were able to do in South Africa.

Israeli hospitals not only treat Jews & Arabs, they also treat Palestinians from Gaza or the West Bank. On the same wards, in the same operating theatres.

Women’s Rights

In Israel, women have the same rights as men: there is no gender apartheid. Gay men & women face no restrictions, and Palestinian gays oftn escape into Israel, knowing they may be killed at home.

It seems bizarre to me that LGBT groups call for a boycott of Israel & say nothing about countries like Iran, where gay men are hanged or stoned to death. That illustrates a mindset that beggars belief.

Intelligent students thinking it’s better to be silent about regimes that kill gay people, but good to condemn the only country in the Middle East that rescues and protects gay people. Is that supposed to be a sick joke?

(…)

I do not object to well-documented criticism of Israel. I do object when supposedly intelligent people single the Jewish state out above states that are horrific in their treatment of their populations.

(…)

Israeli citizens, Jews & Arabs alike, do not rebel (though they are free to protest). Yet Edinburgh students mount no demonstrations & call for no boycotts against Libya , Bahrain , Saudi Arabia , Yemen , & Iran. They prefer to make false accusations against one of the world’s freest countries, the only country in the Middle East that has taken in Darfur refugees, the only country in the ME that gives refuge to gay men & women, the only country in the ME that protects the Bahai’s…. Need I go on?

(…)

Your generation has a duty to ensure that the perennial racism of anti-Semitism never sets down roots among you. Today, however, there are clear signs that it has done so and is putting down more.”

[poptod]

Omg yay!!! Ik u already have to many for him I hope ur not tired of him yet 😭

Aukmenrah x gn reader where reader is a new part of an exhibit (I was thinking like Pompeii or roman/greek like along those timelines but ill leave it up to u :)) and while Larry is showing them around they meet up with Auk who explains the tablet but while trying to understand him, reader is just looking at him like he hung the stars and Auk starts to get flustered. It's like that between them for a while, like a school crush, and Larry makes it a mission to eventually get them together and becomes Auk's wing man <3

Notes: amazingly no, i am not tired of our dearest ahk but you have GOT to tell me why you spell Ahkmenrah's name like that </3 i made the reader from the islamic golden age since that's what i'm writing about in my book. hope thats satisfactory! WC: 2k

+

It was startling, your first awakening––you were one of few exhibits who immediately realized something was not quite right with your existence. For you, it was because you had no memories. You were not a copy of some great historical figure or the remnants of a skeleton; you were a wax doll, there only to demonstrate the clothes of the time.

The nightguard, standing in front of you as the sun set and you shimmered into living, offered you a hand to help you down from your pedestal.

"My name's Larry. Larry Daley," he said. "Welcome to the museum."

"Mā? 'Ayna ana?"

A long sigh and grimace ran through him. He put his hands on his hips, muttered something to himself, then said something to you, beckoning you along. You glanced around––the shining floors and tall ceilings, the myriad of creatures and humans in the long hall. You decided it would be best to listen, even if you didn't know what he wanted.

"Okay…" he mumbled beneath his breath. he then, in a rather thick accent, introduced himself in your language. "I am Larry Daley."

"Uhuh," you said, lifting your chin. "I…"

You frowned. You weren't sure what your name was. Another hint that something was seriously wrong.

"I don't know my name," you said, but he seemed not to understand you.

He took you through the halls and large rooms of what appeared to be a palace with many treasures on display. Unfortunately, no one seemed to be able to speak your language, and so all of Larry's explanations fell on deaf ears. After a rather long walk through a section filled with crystals and minerals, you circled back round to the main part of the building, with its warmly coloured walls and decorated arches.

Rising up to the second floor, you turned down a hall filled with what you recognized as ancient Egyptian artifacts. You stopped in front of a few showcases, tilting your head curiously to the side as your eyes scanned blankly over the informational plaques, unable to identify the language.

Larry pulled you along.

Tumbling over your feet, you barely caught sight of the giant, moving jackal statues staring you down before you were in the next room, bathed in a dim, golden light. Distracted by the multitude of hieroglyphs around you––the art and mystery of which was a fascination of your time––you payed little attention to the quiet conversation Larry was holding with another person. Eventually you turned around, peeked over Larry's shoulder, and stopped dead in your tracks.

His beauty was a near perfect image of the ancient Pharaonic carvings. Your heart sped tenfold as you gawked at him––his khol-lined pale eyes, his soft lips stretched into a smile, the revelation of his tanned waist revealed between tresses of sewn gold. It was rather inappropriate, you knew, but somehow you couldn't stop yourself.

His eyes shifted and fell on you. You stiffened.

A keen smile creeped across his face, eyes narrowing. He said something, something you couldn't understand, and Larry replied in conversation. You attempted to hide a little further behind Larry's shoulder, but the nightguard stepped to the side and revealed you in your entirety.

You froze, then tucked your hands behind your back, straightening your posture.

"So, you are new," the Pharaoh said, lifting his chin in your direction.

You perked up. He knew your language.

"Yes, I am. You know how to speak Arabic?"

"I know many languages, fortunately for Larry," he said with a teasing lilt, glancing to Larry. "He says you don't know your name. Is that true?"

"I suppose so," you said quietly. "Do you know why that is?"

"I believe I do, if you'll lend me the time to explain," he said, offering a hand. You slowly, reluctantly, took it. "I am the Pharaoh Ahkmenrah, from many thousands of years before your time. And you are from some thousand years before this time."

He proceeded to explain the magic of his tablet, which you would've never believed without having been a product of it yourself––something which took you a long while to realize and come to terms with. Though, perhaps, you might've understood faster and more thoroughly if you had been paying attention. Instead, most of your mind was caught up in staring at Ahkmenrah and absorbing his beauty.

"The tablet was – was…" Ahk paused, his face flushing as he glanced between you and the tablet on the wall. "… was, um, constructed by my," he cleared his throat, "father… millenia ago."

You stared.

"It is, um, powered by Iah, the moon, which - which is why…" he chuckled weakly, eyes shining, "… why it only, uh, activates during the night."

Beside you, Larry crossed his arms, a soft huff leaving his chest. You continued to stare.

"Do you�� have any questions?" He asked, tugging at his bejewelled collar.

"I don't think so," you said slowly.

"Well, um, if you do," he said, stepping forward and placing a hand on your back to guide you down the hall, "I better answer them tomorrow night. The sun will rise soon, and it is best if we all return to our places. Otherwise the general populace will discover our nature and I am sure it would be better kept a secret. People tend to become scared when confronted with that which they do not understand. Yes?"

You nodded vaguely, still looking up at him. He glanced down at you, his face still darkened by a warm blush, and immediately looked up ahead once more, avoiding your pointed gaze.

Larry led you the rest of your way back to your exhibit, which was filled with inner architecture and room design of the typical Islamic household of your time. You stepped back up into your place, smoothed down your many layers of clothing, and faded back out of living.

During the nights, you occupied your time by watching the Pharaoh. Few others knew how to speak to you, and try as Larry might to learn Arabic, his pronunciation was poor at best and his understanding rather weak. Your own English was coming along slowly. Yet despite the fact that Ahk was one of the only people you could communicate with, you found it difficult to interact with him. Most thought escaped your mind and you found yourself entranced by the majesty with which he held himself, even if it was dampened by his nervous blushing. You relinquished yourself to watching from afar.

You sighed, legs dangling over the edge of the balcony as you watched the party on the floor below. Ahk was an identifiable streak of gold amongst the costumes and exhibits, and Larry, the opposite of him who blended in, stood beside him. They were conversing quietly, with muted hand gestures as they stood to the side of the action.

Then, between words, Larry pointed up at you.

Your eyes widened and you quickly withdrew your legs from between the bannister poles, stood, and hurried away.

Your exhibit was rather small; just a single presentation in a hall detailing middle eastern culture. Out of all the artefacts on display, you were the only one to animate at night, which made the hall a rather lonely and silent one. You sat on your low couch, far more ornate than you figured you deserved as a nameless thing, and stared at your hands.

It was inappropriate, your behaviour––gawking after someone. Your emotions on the matter were beyond confusing. Traditionally, being Muslim, your curiosity in the Pharaoh could not extend beyond scholastic. After all, he was a polytheist. But his Gods were real, just as real as your God. His Gods brought you to life. You wondered as you stared blankly down if a blank, nameless wax doll could even have a religion.

At least Ahkmenrah was a real person.

Quiet footsteps began to echo, swirling round the empty halls and growing slowly louder. You noticed it faintly and hoped you blended in to the intricately woven carpets and carved wood facades.

Alas, the footsteps stopped in front of you, and as you looked up you found the Pharaoh standing in front of you, his hands folded neatly in front of him.

"May I join you?" He asked, gesturing to the raised platform.

You nodded. He smiled in return, and took a seat beside you.

"Your exhibit is much nicer than mine. Well-made furniture… though it is as quiet as mine," he said, chuckling softly.

You shrugged, tucking your hands between your knees.

"Yours is nice," you said quietly.

He nodded vaguely, and the two of you stewed in an awkward silence for a moment. Ahk's eyes wandered about, then finally settled on you, long eyelashes accentuating his makeup.

"How are you enjoying your time here?" He asked, turning towards you. "You've kept mostly to yourself."

"Well, there's not much to say to most people," you mumbled. "They do try, which is nice. But it's not the same. And I feel… different to the others."

"Different?" He repeated. "How is that?"

"I have a vague idea of my culture, but no actual memories. I know you and Larry gave me a name but it's not even from my own culture," you said. "So… it doesn't have anything to do with the others. Just my own troubles."

"I'm afraid I don't know many Persian names. I… had hoped the name I chose would be suitable," he said.

You couldn't help the smile on your face, as bashful as it was. A blush crept up your cheeks. You had no idea what the name meant, but the fact that he had taken the time to name you something––that your only identity was related to him––fuelled something warm and comforting within you.

"It's a nice name," you said, "even if I do not know what it means."

"Um, well…" he trailed off, his face growing ever redder, "it's… rather embarrassing, actually."

He lowered his head, scratching at the back of his neck subtly. You quirked your head to the side.

"You gave me an embarrassing name?" You asked, raising a brow.

"No, not at all," he said quickly, meeting your eye. "I suppose it's really only embarrassing for me that I am the one who gave you the name, because it is… it is a rather sentimental name."

"Sentimental?" You chuckled. "What do you mean by that?"

He fell silent, his mouth opening and closing as he seemed to debate whether or not to tell you. His eyes darted here and there, but eventually settled on you, and as his hands gripped his skirt tightly he offered you a diffident smile.

"Well, Meri… if you do truly wish to know… your name means 'love', in my language."

Your eyes widened as slowly as your realization. Ahkmenrah, unfortunately not privy to your thoughts, melted in his seat and began to stammer some excuse.

"I didn't mean it in any – any bad way, which is to say, I wanted you to feel welcome, and you…"

He pursed his lips, sucking in a sharp breath.

"… you have so much love in your eyes," he finally said, his voice quiet and diminutive.

You had thought just a minute ago that you couldn't get any warmer––that you had reached the full extent of your embarrassment, absorbed wholly in your own flustered cocoon of thoughts. You hadn't imagined your admiration of him was so overwhelming so as to be visible. When you finally recognized the sensations in your body once more, you realized your mouth was hanging open.

"I hope I haven't offended you," he said quietly.

"No, not at all," you said, reaching forward to place a hand on his. "Actually, I was hoping I didn't disturb you with my, um.. staring."

"Not at all," he replied with a smile, intertwining your fingers with his. "I find it quite endearing. Even as a Pharaoh, though being much admired, none would dare gaze upon me with such obvious… well, adoration. It's something I enjoy about being in this time. Less fear of expression."

You nodded and hummed, your smile sweet on your lips.

"So you don't mind it then?" You asked, looking up with glowing eyes.

"I would prefer you talk to me rather than just stare, but… I suppose… even desiring your company in greater intimacy… I could 'make do' with watching you from afar in return," he said, a coy smile on his face.

You blushed, looking down at your hands together on his lap.

"I will… do my best to talk to you more," you said.

"I appreciate the effort, my love," he said, and lifted your hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss on your palm.

[voidingintotheshout]

Yeah, for what it’s worth I was born and raised Christian and I’m a Muslim now. I’ve learned a little bit about Judaism from my Jewish friends on here. So scholarship is crucial in Jewish doctrine. Passages from the Torah and the Tanakh mean what they mean. Different schools debate it but there are certain excepted meanings. Christianity seems to have completely rejected biblical scholarship completely. Not only will they quote from a translation of the Old Testament and New Testament and insist that this particular word means a particular thing with no understanding that it is a translation and not the original. Like anything in the king James, or new international version of the new testament is clearly not what is in the original because Jesus did not speak in English. They seem to not understand that they’re not getting the original when they read the Bible in English. I don’t think I’ve ever met any priest, or Reverend who was required to learn one of the languages of the Bible to read it in the original. Most Muslims and Jews know that if you’re not reading in the original language you’re not getting the authentic meaning. I don’t speak for Jews on this. I’m just taking a shot in the dark here. It was my experience with Christianity that the Bible can just mean whatever you want. It’s like being an English major in college. If you can create a persuasive enough argument for your interpretation, then it is valid. Lazarus died and came back and your grandma will come back also. In heaven or something. Islam is kind of in the middle. It’s not relevant here but it’s kind of in my observation between the rigorous scholarship of Judaism and the complete lack of scholarship of Christianity. The Muslims’ fatal flaw has always been arrogance and the more arrogant the Muslim the less scholarship you find. Hopefully I’ve been dancing around my point for a long enough that you get what I’m trying to say, but it doesn’t surprise me at all that Christians would seemingly miss the point of this. Like take the book of Leviticus. Muslims don’t eat pork, Jews, don’t eat pork, but Christians eat pork. So with this particular book Christians just decided to reject all of it (except the verse condemning gays, notably) because it doesn’t matter because they have Jesus who forgive sins, so they don’t have to follow any of Leviticus? I’ve never understood that. So they choose to ignore The rules in Leviticus, and then see that book as a sign of the power of Jesus because he makes it so that you don’t need to follow those rules. It is always seemed very cart before the horse but then that’s why I’m not a Christian anymore. 

Genuine question that others with more knowledge of Christian theology can explain this - why is the story of Lazarus used to talk about death, grief, and mourning?

I’ve seen it twice now in recent years, once was at an interfaith thing after the squirrel hill shooting (which I felt was in bad taste) and then I was recently at a funeral where the pastor talked about it too. And it seems so weird to me because a story about resurrection feels like a reminder that the death that just happened is permanent. I feel like if I believed in Jesus, I’d just feel angry that we don’t get miracles like that anymore? Neither of the sermons focused on the bodily resurrection / “second coming” angle either.

Or maybe this isn’t A Thing and it was purely coincidental that they both were about Lazarus.

[feministfang]

Why is pro-watermelon 🍉 gang keep saying this is the first time they are seeing a live genocide and still nobody cares?? No this isn’t your first time!

Women around the world have been slaughtered, murdered, raped, and facing all other kinds of oppression since the dawn of time. There is already a world’s oldest and biggest genocide that is still happening today. And that is femicide.

But nobody seems to care about that because according to them there’s a "gender war" going on. I wonder if these watermelon people would be protesting and boycotting the same way if it was only the Palestinian women suffering in this genocide.

None of these people ever fought with this much vehemence for women in iran, for afghan women, for sudanese women, women in Congo, and all other women who are suffering around the world.

In fact, they’re busy glamorising terrorists like Hezbollah and Khamenieh (however the fuck you spell it) and mourning the deaths of the likes of iran’s terrorist leader who died in helicopter crash just because these bearded devils chanted "free-palestine" two, three times.

More than seventy per cent of the people who have been killed in this genocide are women and children. But the only time i see the pro-Palestine m@les talking about it is when they wanna blame it all on feminists. "WhErE aRe tHe fEmInIsTs?" "WhErE aRe tHe liBerAlS?"

Just shut the fuck up and tell me where are all the anti-feminist men and women who love to say m@n should be the leaders?? Where are all the muslim and christian conservative bigots who keep saying shit like women should obey men and men should lead?? These are your leaders now!

Muslim women commenting "BoYcOTT" under every female influencer’s post promoting an israeli brand while at the same time cooking and cleaning like slaves for their husbands so these men could become the next big leaders oppressing women using their power.

If you wanna boycott anything, then boycott these men. Stop coddling them and stop doing anything for them. Instead, use all that energy in making yourself a powerful leader.

But no, FemInIsts aRe sO eVil aNd wRonG fOr tElliNg wOmEn tO sToP coNfOrMinG tO gEndEr rOLes. FeMinIsTs hAve rUiNed EvEryThInG fOr wOmEn. ThEy aRe sOciEty bReAkeRs!

It’s not the feminists fault that there’s a genocide going on, it’s the men’s. Men are the ones who vote for these male politicians. Men are the ones who worship these male leaders. Men are the ones who ruin everything for women. The enemy is exposed yet your rage is directed in the wrong direction.

There’s not one male world leader who is not destroying the planet with his evilness. But all i see is comparisons being made about which one of them is more evil; the islamic ones or the zionist ones or the white ones??

Listen! Idgaf about your free palestine land or the entire boycott list of brands. I don’t even care about your brave palestinian m@les dying either. Y’all cry about pregnant palestinian women having a hard time and feminists doing nothing for them, but who the fuck is impregnating them????

Women of Palestine should be freed from both israel and Palestinian men. That’s just what i care about. And women of Israel should be freed from these men too. No, they don’t deserve to be raped or killed just because they support Israel. It’s not even palestine vs Israel, it’s men vs women; where men are the oppressors on both sides and women are the victims on both sides. Every war has always been a genocide against women.

[transgenderer]

Yahya (Arabic: يحيى, romanized: Yaḥyā), also spelled Yehya, is an Arabic male given name. It is an Arabic form of the given name John, originally Aramaic Yohanan (Yəhôḥānān יְהוֹחָנָן‎ "YHWH is gracious"), i.e. primarily John the Baptist, who is known as Yahya ibn Zakariyya in Islam, and is considered a prophet in Islam. For this reason, Yahya is a comparatively common name in the Muslim world.

John sinwar...