#did he grow up orthodox or protestant?

[idylls-of-the-divine-romance]

What are your thoughts about Catholicism? Very fond of your writings and musings about Christianity. Also, I hope your friend and their family is alright.

Yayyyy, I got an ask! I love talking about Christianity and I am very glad to hear that you like them. I unfortunately have not heard from my friend since Wednesday (which is not weird, so not worried yet). I will either see her this coming Wednesday, or I will at the very least see some people who can inform me so fingers crossed and still praying.

To your question: (this is roughly but poorly organized so sorry)

Firstly, Catholics are Christians. It's sad that this is such spicy thing to say, but it is. Catholics will be alongside Protestants and Orthodoxes at the resurrection should just... chill out everyone. They have not anathematized the gospel or whatever. The gospel is that despite what it looks like, Jesus is King and has come to save humanity by dying for our sins and rising from the dead so that you can be free from the grip of sin and death. No self-respecting catholic would deny that. And so no self-respecting catholic should be called non-christian.

Secondly, I'd like to just start with something i noticed that is kinda funny to me. Whenever I learn about some disagreement in church history between Catholics and some other group, I tend to side with the Catholics for aesthetic reasons and the Others for moral reasons. So like with the Iconoclasm. The Eastern Church was like "Icons are idolatry; let's destroy them!!" And Rome was like "Uhhh... no. Don't destroy the beautiful art work." So on that base issue I agree with Rome: iconoclasm is bad and art is beautiful. But there's also a deeper issue of whether the Pope has the authority or whether the other church has the right to mind their own business and with that I side with the East.

Similarly with the Catholics and Puritans in the 17th Century (which is slowly becoming my new favorite time period for literature reasons). I side with the Catholic cause like, yeah, liturgy is awesome, art is beautiful, theatre and festivals are fun (who cares if they're pagan!!), women are great (that's more of a Catholic poet thing but wtv). But on the Puritan side I'm like, yeah... there is a lot of greed and corruption and stuff in there too so...

That said: both Catholic (Cavelier) and Puritan poets during this time were freaking awesome. Is that relevant?? Idk. It's my post i do what i want lol.

But as you can see, my thoughts are always being conflicted: on one hand, Catholics make great points, on another there are also many bad points.

Thirdly, as is no surprise to anyone here, I (despite growing up and still being a devout protestant) am a lover of Catholic philosophy. Some points i really love include:

High Church: The Beauty. The Tradition. The Liturgy. Read anything any catholic has ever said about the Eucharist. It's just *chefs kiss*

The Deuterocanon. LUTHER!? WHAT THE HECK BRO! Okay so I understand why the deuterocanon is not considered canonical by Protestants. And I agree. It isn't in the Tanakh, it isn't canon. But like... can't we put them in an appendix or something??? I'm 17 years old and have never read Judith or Jesus son of Sirach or Baruch or Enoch or the Maccabees or- you get the point. Catholics have such an advantage in that these books are part of their scriptures. Also, to any protestants: no. Having a different canon doesn't make them heretics. They have a different doctrine than us, but they have the same theology. Same goes for the Orthodox churches.

I agree with the Catholic exegesis that when Jesus said "On this rock I will build my church" he was talking about Peter. Peter was most definitely the leader of the early church and to deny at least that fact is pretty foolish (Paul did a lot of missionary work, and Jacob/James was the leader of the Jerusalem Church, but I would assert that Peter was overall the leader who did a lot to bridge together Pauline and Jacobine Philosophy).

Exorcism. Demonology (I don't like this word but i don't know what else to say) is something not really talked about in Western Protestantism despite the fact that it was very important to Jesus. I don't know if the Catholic Church's official teaching on demons is like mine (I put a lot of emphasis on how demons are the "powers and authorities", as Paul says, energizing oppressive political bodies) but I do know that they put attention into exorcism and as I know a girl whose mom was possessed, I thank them for that. Demons are just not talked about enough over here which leads into the problem C.S. Lewis mentioned: either Christians are obsessed with them, or they don't think about them at all.

Sacramentology. Great. Splendid. Do I agree with them all? No, but that doesn't matter cause they're cool. I love transubstantiation and how Thomas Aquinas used Aristotle's philosophy to explain it. Freaking awesome.

That leads into the next point: Scholasticism. I like Catholicism lack of fear with engaging with philosophy and science to prove/defend the religion, like using Aristotle to explain transubstantiation. They have historically wanted to know everything about everything. I think that's great. I am a big fan of scholasticism.

Saints. No comment. I wrote about this before. I am fully convinced. Also Mary is Mother <3

Catholicism teaches that it is the church's job to make Christianity visible to the world. And as such, no other denomination (or at the very least, few others) has improved the world through hospitals and universities and art and music and literally laying the groundwork for modern science (!!!) like the Catholic Church. Militant haters may accuse you of being anti science. But don't worry. I know the truth. They are also the largest charitable organization in the world both now and historically.

Concupiscence: It is not a sin to desire to sin. Thank you Catholicism for this. Just... thank you. This should not be a controversial statement and yet!

Feast Days: Everyday is a holiday if you're catholic lol

Mary: What do you mean I already mentioned her? I can mention her twice! She's Mary Mother of God! Queen of Heaven! Drink some respect women juice (i.e. communion wine).

Some points I am confused by

Infant Baptism: So... I do believe in infant baptism. I do not believe that baptism washes away original sin. I believe that it's about covenant.

Purgatory: I am... undecided. My thoughts on what exactly happens when you die is always in flux because the bible isn't as clear as you might think (for example, over the summer i stopped believing in heaven. I did believe in the future resurrection of the dead. But i thought in between you were just... dead). At the moment I do believe that the saved go to "be with Christ" after death and the unsaved just die until all are resurrected at the end of the age. As such, my beliefs don't really require a belief in purgatory. After the resurrection all people will be allowed to align with New Jerusalem or to go into The Valley of Hinnom so there's really no point in purgatory then? I view the earth right now as a kind of purgatory I suppose. That said, it can't hurt to pray for those in purgatory so *shrugs* Pray away.

The idea that the church can forgive sins. And I want to be very clear what I mean by this. When I hear "The church can forgive sins" i think, yes. Obviously. Jesus says to forgive others and that those who refuse forgiveness will not be forgiven. Of course the church can forgive sins. I forgive my sister when she sins against me, how is that that different? That said, I've heard protestants mention this "The church can forgive sins" idea as if it was something different from what I've just said which makes me think I don't understand it.

Non Sola Fide. Okay. So.... my thoughts on this are complicated and I personally think Catholics and Protestants have more common ground on this than is thought. It's important that we don't fall into caricatures. I would assert that Catholics do believe in faith alone - at least in the way that a Protestant would define fatih. Faith is not just belief, but is a combination of that with works. If I claim to believe in Jesus but never participate in the church, I don't actually have faith. So I think this is really just semantics between the two. The issue is how you define faith.

Bible vs Church: This is complicated. The bible wasn't written by an assembly but majorilly by individuals who were inspired by God, starting with Moses and the Torah. Then a later assembly of Jews looked at other writings from their history and agreed (by the help of the Spirit and the guidance of the Torah) that these too were divinely inspired. This community that came around these texts then began to debate and discuss which texts were divinely inspired and which weren't. This carried over into the Jesus Movement where followers of Jesus were also debating these same texts, as well as new texts written by the Apostles. One of the criteria for these new texts was how they related to the older texts (i.e. no antisemitism etc). Eventually different assemblies decided on different texts but for the most part are the same. This is all well known but my point here is this: the Modern Bible was assembled the Early Church, which was a community centered around the teachings of Jesus, gathered together by the apostles. These teachings were themselves based off of an earlier group of texts assembled by a group of people who had come across texts written by mostly individuals inspired by the Spirit and the Torah. So did the bible make the church or did the church make the bible? Both. Neither. Both again. It's too complex of a history for such an easy answer. I fall in the "the bible has equal to or greater than authority than the church has."

Mary: So... I believe that Jesus' siblings were younger siblings by Mary and Joseph. If you don't, that's fine, just don't step on my throat for it. I've heard that they could be adopted, which i'd accept, or cousins, which I'd accept. What I will not accept is older siblings by Joseph. This is not possible because of birthright stuff. They would inherit the Davidic throne instead of Jesus basically. That said God loves the youngest born so *shrugs*. I also have problems with the immaculate conception. No. Just... no. There's no point to me. I think it's mental gymnastics. That said, i have problems with Original Sin period so *shrugs*. That said there is this really good article by a Catholic mutual of mine on original sin that i really like and has (possibly) convinced me so check it out. Then the assumption... uh... idk or really care for that matter. Peter was crucified upside down. Paul was beheaded. Mary was assumed. One of these is not like the other but *shrugs* sure. I have no reason to believe it, but i also have no reason not to believe it.

And finally things I don't like:

Authority over Interpreting Scripture. This is one of the things that bars me from conversion. I believe in a great importance of the individual reading and interpretation of scripture. I think the individual should look into Church history and historical traditions, philosophies, and such, but I think the individual should, nonetheless, come to conclusions on their own and wrestle with the scriptures. I'm not saying this doesn't happen in catholicism, but I am saying that I think the way I think of scriptural reading is discouraged. I don't like the idea that if I interpret Ezekiel differently (that he's not talking about Mary's womb as a gate that only Yahweh passes thru) I suddenly can't be Catholic. My interpretation is just different.

So... yeah lol

[adventism-atheism-orthodoxy-me]

Specificity and Universalism: The Give and Take

Growing up, my Christian experience would probably be considered more fundamentalist than anything else. Our theological discussions revolved around whether certain groups could be considered Christian or not depending upon a whole slew of things - whether or not they were vegetarian, whether or not they ate pork, whether or not they drank caffeine, used black pepper, or consumed alcohol. Did they wear jewelry, and if so, was it subdued and tasteful enough to pass, or useful in some sense like a watch? Do they allow people to go to theaters and bars? And, of course, in my background there was Sabbatarianism.

In terms of theology - ideas that must be held - there was "soul sleep", a post tribulation rapture, and the rationales associated with our practices outlined above. Don't even get me started on the Investigative Judgement doctrine. There were many discussions regarding Daniel and Revelation. Cleanliness vs uncleanliness were big, as were following the Ten Commandments to the letter. When young, I didn't hear many sermons on the atonement, but going into my teen and adult years, the flavor became decidedly Penal - we are saved, but just only just so. The faith vs works - sorry - cheap vs costly grace debates became huge.

"Universalism" as a theological movement was completely inconceivable. Accepting it, I think, would have meant that we would have to compromise on a whole host of ideas and practices that defined us.

This would be unacceptable.

And "Universalism", the formal theological concept per my limited understanding of it, couldn't be any more anti-Christian than Satanism (worse than Paganism). It may still be - I was never interested in it, it seemed too passion driven.

But I don't think I was unique. I just recently watched a video where a former Fundamentalist Christian talks about the conflict between Acts 2 and Acts 9 dispensationalists. This "culty" us vs. them permeates fundamentalist Protestantism. It even spills out into Politics, I think, in the Christian Nationalist movement.

I see Protestantism awash in specifics of this sort.

So when the Orthodox apologist starts arguing vehemently, in shrieking voices that Orthodoxy is about specifics, they and the fundamental Protestant are NOT talking the same language; and are using the same word to describe vastly different concepts, the same, I think, could be said about the term universal too.

A Fundamentalist Protestant needs to step back from the "specifics" of the faith that broke down, and start looking for basic concepts. Even atheists are willing to admit that a god might exist. That's a place to start. For myself, I'm willing to believe that Christ might even be a physical manifestation of that God. The Bible for it's part too, can be provisionally considered as "God's word", but certainly not unqualified.

Keep in mind that a fundamentalist Protestant has grown up with a specific way of looking at something that has been found deficient.

Their world has turned to ash and something must be rebuilt in it's place.

Some choose to discard everything.

Others of us wonder how the whole thing started. There was a point at which Christianity was attractive and growing - even under extreme persecution. You can talk about the, "specifics of the faith", but all the specifics in the world pale to the overarching theme that God loves me.

God loves me.

Not in the self serving co-dependent sense of needs and wants found in much of Protestantism.

No.

He Loves me. Period. Full stop. Without qualification.

Now I understand that there's a bit of a back and forth between the universal principals and the specifics of the faith. Universal, Godlike love may differ from what many of us in our passions might call "love", but that's where the specifics come in. Relics of the Saints reinforce the real presence of the divine in this world. Icons, give us the ability to see the physicality of the divine - Christ became man, and could be physically painted. The seasons of the fast give us an opportunity to practice what it means to deny ourselves for others, and to meet with others in celebration afterwards. The Services give us a taste of heaven. The Ten commandments are unnecessary if the Fruits of the Spirit, as Christ specifically demonstrated, guide your life. It encourages emotional maturity.

But notice that this specificity is not the same use of specificity as the Protestant mind holds in their head. It's of a completely different sort. This specificity is decidedly human, for our benefit, and it draws us to God, the ultimate truth as it were. It is not some artificial laundry list of things to believe, remember, or do or not do - a specificity that divides and separates.

Lord have mercy upon me, A Sinner.

[swampy-sayin-it]

The Church is the Government of God

And so I say to you, you are Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church, and the gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against it. I will give you the keys to the kingdom of heaven. Whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven; and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.” - Matthew 16:18-19

There are many versions of this passage of scripture, but no matter how you look at it, Jesus picked His first leader of His church. Yes, it is Peter He chose to lead the church when the time came. He did not pick a born leader, or an educated leader, or even a wealthy leader. Jesus chose one who would give his all for the Church, even after selling Him out.

The Office of The Apostle There are some that believe that the office of the Apostle died after John. The Apostles all performed the duties of the "office" of being an Apostle. The main duties were to establish the Church into new parts of the world. In turn the Apostles would gather new disciples and begin to teach, and train, them into doing what God was calling them to do.

The office of Apostle rarely used as a title today, but the office is still vital and vibrant. Most Apostles today are titles Bishop, or Archbishop. In fact, the Pope's official title is Bishop of Rome/Vicar of Christ. However, he does the work of an apostle.

There are many apostles in the church all over the world. Their work is the same, watch over the church body in their area, or parish, teach and train new disciples for the ministry. The Church is never done growing.

The Ministry Gifts of the Spirit There seems to be sort of a difficulty amongst the Church about the Gifts of the Spirit. All the gifts are in the government of the Church for the benefit of advancing the gospel. This includes gifts of "speaking in tongues", prophecy, and miracles of hands-on healing. Why are these particular gifts targeted for extinction, according to some scholars. There really is no legit reasoning that backs that claim up and to proof text scripture is not only lying to people but lying to oneself.

When Paul was chastising some of the brethren for over emphasizing their gifts, he reminded them that those gifts are used and then it's over until they are needed for the next time, but that love supersedes all of them. It is reference to the Shema, as retold by Jesus (Mark 12:29-31) In other words, all the gifts of the Spirit are to produce those fruits that Paul talks about in Galatians (5:22-25).

How it all fits together Here how it all fits together for the Church. There are the various works that God wants for certain of His people to do in the Church. This does not slight anyone who does ministarial work as lay people either. We are all called to a mission and we are also equiped by God the gifts of the Spirit for everyone.

Anyone who has a problem with the continuing of the Apostolic Commission in growing Church has already built their four walled prison of ignorance. The Church continues to grow whether Catholic, Orthodox, or Protestant. As Jesus told Peter to "feed my lambs, tend my sheep, and feed my sheep" (John 21: 15-17)

[birdieart]

what was bucky calling himself in romania? did he use the romanian variant of James (Iakob) when he talked to people and had to give them a name? how did he even learn romanian? does he have romanian heritage? did he learn it during the war? how did he pay rent? was he working in construction or as a line cook or something? did he have a little old lady as a neighbour who thought he was too skinny and lonely and forced him to eat with her at least once a week? did she make him help with cooking so he could make the food himself? did he go to the orthodox church with her? did the local kids like him? did he cut his hair himself or did he brave going to a barbers to keep it at a length he liked? did he like talking to market sellers about fruit because it was an easy conversation and a way for him to get used to socialising?

i have SO many questions about bucky in romania

[immerlein]

what makes eastern orthodox christianity different? And why have you chosen this over other religions?

Hi! Thanks for your interesting question :) Do you mean different from other Christian denominations? Or different from other religions in general? I'll start with Christianity because, well, that will be much simpler lol. Please bear in mind I'm not trying to rag on others' beliefs, but it may come across that way, as I do have strong held reasons for not belonging to another denomination. I am also going to assume that you are at least somewhat familiar with different Christian theologies; my apologies if this is not the case! Please do let me know if you would like clarification of anything I've said :)

If I had to boil it down, ultimately the Eastern Orthodox perspective of God and who God is is just radically different to Western (using this very loosely) Christian interpretations. God is described in Orthodox prayer as "the one who loves mankind/humanity", He is a physician to the sick (soul and body). Our concept of sin is different; sin is "missing the mark". We have confession but it is not legalistic (there is no categorization of sin as mortal or venial as in Roman Catholicism), it is a way to seek healing and grow in godliness. Eastern Orthodox beliefs on redemption is primarily based on the Christus Victor model, that is that Christ died to defeat the powers of evil and their hold over humanity (death and sin) - there is no payment to the devil (ew) or to God, Christ's death is not to satisfy God's "anger" or settle a score, as in other atonement theories held by other Christians. Western conceptions of original sin also do not apply to our thinking/theology; we are not born with the guilt or stain of original sin, but rather share/inherit a fallen nature with temptation to sin, and suffer consequences such as death and illness. We "know where the Church is, we don't know where the Church isn't" - we do not make (or should not make...) judgements about what might happen to non-Orthodox Christians after death. There are also multiple Orthodox views/theories about "Heaven and Hell" but generally speaking we acknowledge that we don't know and it is never okay to say that someone "is going to Hell" and definitely don't believe that God "sends" anyone to "Hell"; I am personally fond of the interpretation that all are united with God after death and our experience of this is shaped by our choices and desire. Basically God is good and His creation is to (though sometimes we chose not to be). Our practices also differ from other Christians, especially Protestant Christians (using the term very broadly as there is a wide range of different practices throughout the many, many Protestant denominations); we fast (a lot), have set prayers and daily prayers, we use a lot of bowing and prostration during prayer and also stand up for it and most of our church services, have a very liturgical tradition, women cover their hair for prayers/church (some do it all the time, and then of course some don't at all), use icons/candles/incense/oil/holy water/blessed objects in our prayer and liturgy, celebrate many many special holidays/feast days/name days, Pascha (Easter) is our biggest feast/holiday by far and is so unbelievably joyful, pray for the dead (with special services on appropriate days etc), women who have just had babies have a 40 day service for themselves and their baby, saints and the Theotokos especially are a big deal for us (they are not worshipped or gods, though)... Now as to WHY I became Eastern Orthodox, well. I used to be Roman Catholic and I had a lot of issues with the theology, particularly the categorization of sin, original sin, and papal theology. It definitely did not help that I'm prone to scrupulosity (and am autistic with anxiety and OCD), but my relationship with God is much healthier now. My view of God is healthier. That said, I am in a bit of wobbly place spirituality-wise now as you might notice if you go through my #ask tag and/or trawl through this blog a bit lol. I hope this helps? Let me know if you want to ask anything else :) xx Maria

[softyoongiionly]

Moonlight

Just a night at the studio with Yoongi

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: fluff, smut (18+ only plz) I love yoongi so much omg

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: This can be read as a stand alone or as an extension of the FnD series. I am so in love with yoongi it’s insane and, I’ve missed him so much my goodness. I wrote this in like two hours so I really hope you like it ok bye :D

Warnings: explicit smut

“You look good.” You note simply from the pull-out couch in Yoongi’s studio, growing disinterested with the pile of work sitting on the table in front of you

Yoongi looks as though you’ve just shook his hand with a prank buzzer, his body subtly jolting in his desk chair.  

“Me? Why?”

His response makes you laugh as you prop your elbow on the arm of the couch, “You just do. I like watching you work, you look cool.”  

Yoongi is unable to help the new color present on his cheeks nor is able to help the flutter of desire in his gut.  

But all he does his smirk, glancing towards you and then back at his computer screen whilst his long fingers card through his black hair.

“Thanks.” He mutters but there is a renewed sense of light in his eyes as he hits enter on the keyboard.

The sound pulls you towards his fingers, which you have an unnatural obsession with.  

They look graceful settled on the black keys and yet agitated all at the same time.  

They are unsure of exactly where to go, unflexing and flexing against the plastic before Yoongi drags them slowly back to the surface of the desk.  

You’ve been here for hours.

He asked you to accompany him this morning and you eagerly obliged, wanting nothing more than to spend the day with him, even if you weren’t interacting.  

The blue light emanating from your phone lets you know what time it is and you have to admit, you’re a little shocked.

12:07am.

You hadn’t even remembered seeing 9 o’clock, how did time pass so quickly?

As if on cue, you yawn, quickly covering your mouth with your hand to avoid alerting Yoongi.

You’re too late.  

He sees you out of the corner of his eye and immediately takes out one of his headphones, his eyes holding a bit of regret.

“Yah, I’ve kept you here for so long haven’t I?” His voice is tender and warm, seeping in through the fabric of your hoodie and down into your skin, “I should take you home...I’m sorry jagi. I didn’t even realize how late it was.”

“No no-” You cut in, shaking your head, “You don’t have to be sorry at all- you've been working your ass off. I’m just happy you ask me to come, I’ve never gotten to see you work before.”

Yoongi’s heart skips a bit a little at how genuine you sound. He can’t understand why you’d want to just sit here with while he produces but, he’s touched regardless.

“You’ve been working hard too though.” He points out, nodding his head to the mountain of paper on the table, “I don’t want to keep you up all night.”

“I like staying up late.” You insist, crossing your legs and tucking them up on the futon, “Besides,” The tone of your voice lowers a bit as you feel quite shy about what you’re going to say next, “I don’t like sleeping without you...”

Yoongi is almost certain he made out what you said because the grin on his lips is involuntary. However, he decides to mess with you anyway.

“What was that last part?” He asks, brows raised playfully.

He spins slightly in his desk chair with his legs spread out in a way that shouldn’t be attractive.

But it absolutely is.

With a roll of your eyes, you slump against the futon, shoving your hands into your lap, “I said I don’t like sleeping without you.”  

His grin widens, his pretty teeth practically blinding you as he does.

“That shit is cute...” He chuckles more to himself than to you, his teeth securing themselves to his bottom lip, “You wanna stay with me then?”

Yoongi calling you cute makes you want to squeal like a schoolgirl but thankfully, you’re able to refrain.  

With an assured nod, you return his grin, “Yes please.” Your reply is delivered musically which causes him to chuckle again.

He shakes his head, practically exploding with fondness before using his fingers to gesture to the screen in front of him.

“I shouldn’t be too much longer, maybe like an hour or so, then we can go to bed.”

With that, your plans for the remainder of the evening are set in place and you decide that you’re going to put away your work for the night and scroll on your phone.  

You can only work on something for so long before your brain is fried.

Another hour or so passes and you find yourself growing sleepier and sleepier.  

However, your brain quickly finds itself attaching to the only thing in this room that could distract you from the heaviness in your lids:

Yoongi.

He’s dressed head to toe in black: black hair, black sweats, black hoodie and black vans.  

The only thing that stands out in terms of color are the many silver earrings adorning his ears.

The way he hunches over the desk, transfixed on the screen shouldn’t be sexy.

The way he manspreads in the chair shouldn’t be sexy.

The way he chews on the tip of his thumb shouldn’t be sexy.

But it is.  

Because he is.  

You find yourself growing uneasy with the lack of attention.

Not in an emotional way but, in another way entirely.

You can’t help but stare at him and wonder how the hell you got so lucky.  

It would be incredibly easy to stare at him all night, marveling at all of the little things that make him beautiful.

However, he doesn’t allow you to because his heighten sense of awareness has finally caught onto the fact that you’re staring at him.  

Turning towards you, he smirks and shakes his head playfully, “Yah- “ He jerks his chin at you, “What are you looking at?”

Shamelessly, you giggle and prop your chin up on the palm of your hand, “My insanely hot boyfriend...”

He waves you off, wrinkling his face in mock disgust, “Aish, stop all of that.”

“Why don’t you ever let me compliment you?” You protest, your voice heightening slightly, “If I want to say you’re hot, I’m going to say it- whether you like it or not.”

The apples of his cheeks turn a dusty rose color, his teeth finding purchase on his bottom lip as he forces his eyes to stay put on the screen, “I never said I didn’t like it...”

He smirks at the end of his confession, tapping his index finger against the space bar, letting the beat fill the room for the 1000th time.  

It sounds good so you honestly didn’t mind.

Getting to hear Yoongi’s music as it was being made was a privilege you did not take for granted so, you certainly didn’t mind if you had to hear it 1000 more times.  

A few more moments pass as the two of you settle back comfortable silence. You don’t refrain from stealing more glances of your boyfriend but, you decide to stop pestering him until his ready to call it a night.

Then it’s fair game.

During a stolen glance however, you notice him wincing a bit as he adjusts himself in his chair. Yoongi has a bad back that he frequently sees a chiropractor for but, it doesn’t stop him from hunching over for hours on end anyway.

“Is your back hurting?” You murmur, trying to keep the concern in your voice at a minimum.

He hates when you worry about him and, you expect him to tell you no but instead he brings a hand around his shoulder to rub at the likely tense muscles.  

“Yeah- it’s really sore. I need to get with a posture coach or something because, I’m sure sitting in this chair for hours on end only makes it worse.” He winces again, trying to straighten up in the rickety old desk chair.

You make a mental note of looking into buying him a new chair for Christmas; maybe one of those fancy gamer chairs with all the padding.

“Do you want me to rub it for you?”

Keeping your tone casual is easy enough but it doesn’t stop the excitement from brewing in the pit of your stomach. You and Yoongi often indulge in physical affection (and by often, you mean OFTEN) but it’s been a busy few weeks which has unfortunately lessened the amount of time you were able to spend wrapped up in one another. This has been starting to get to you of course but, the reasonable side of your brain tells you that it’s perfectly normal/healthy to go without sex for a few weeks. However, the less-logical (ie the ridiculously in love) part of your brain tends a signal to the entirety of your nervous system that makes you literally ache for your boyfriend.  

The way he’s been acting this evening is only worsening that ache.  

Besides, you don’t like the fact that he’s hurting so really massaging him would be a win/win scenario.  

A small smirk forms on his lips, as he putters around on his keyboard. He still doesn’t look at you but, the glint in his eyes tells you he likes the idea.

“I wouldn’t mind that - I just need like 15 more minutes.” He murmurs, straightening his back once more, his eyes showing a bit of discomfort.

“You don’t have to stop...” You offer, keeping your voice nice and sweet, “I can just sit behind you while you work.”

He licks his lips, shifting in his chair before finally glancing over at you, the smirk still lingering on his lips, “Is it my birthday or something? Why are you trying to spoil me?”

This makes you roll your eyes, “Because I’m in love with you and I want to make sure you feel good, is that alright? Why are you being so difficult?” You gripe, quite matter of factly.

Yoongi breaks out in a fit of rickety laughter, amused by your annoyance.  

The softie in him wants to love on you 24 hours a day but, the brat in him secretly gets a kick out of riling you up.

Plus, annoying you sometimes comes with an added bonus that fuels the less orthodox side of Yoongi’s desires.

“Come here then-” He says in the midst of his laughter, “My aching back needs you...”

You push yourself off of the futon, grumbling to yourself, “This is why I always say you’re like a cat because, I’m trying to love you and you’re asking me if I permit or something...”

Yoongi laughs again, shaking his head and before you can sit down, he’s turning in his chair and grabbing your hand. Despite you pretending to wiggle your hand out of his grip, he interlocks his fingers with yours and places a kiss to the back of your hand.

“I love you.”

These words have been spoken a thousand times but it doesn’t stop your soul from ascending to the tippy top of heaven anyway.

You don’t think you’ll ever tire of him being soft for you.

“Whatever.” You pout, pretending to jerk your hand away once more which causes him to flash that brilliant gummy smile of his. “Just make your stupid, beautiful music, pretend I’m not even here...”

He kisses his teeth and shakes his head, “That’s literally impossible but I’ll try.”

His words may be sarcastic and subtle but you know very well that they have 100 different meanings.

That’s kind of your favorite thing about him.

It’s the fact that he can say so much whilst using his words sparingly. Yoongi has a way of letting you know how he feels without pouring his heart out. Although, there are plenty of times when he does that too and, you love it all the same. But, he’s the type of person to love in secret and, it’s not because he’s ashamed or emotionally unavailable; it’s because he understands how precious love really is and you’re the only one he wants to be vulnerable with.  

You bite your lip to avoid smiling and as you try to move away, Yoongi jerks your hand towards his body gently, his pretty chestnut eyes widening a bit.

“Say it back.” He insists, his voice softening to a specific tone that seems to rot your resolve from the inside out.  

You can’t tell if he knows what he’s doing or if he is unaware he’s using the same voice he uses when he begs for you but either way: you give him what he wants.

“I love you too.”

This satisfies him beyond belief, his grin returning whilst he tugs you down to his level, his sweet lips awaiting yours.

Despite what he wants to do, Yoongi just pecks at your mouth a few times before releasing your hand.

He knows if he kisses you the way he wants to, it will be game over so, thankfully he manages to control himself.  

“This track is called Moonlight right?” You inquire gently, as you take your seat behind him, doing your best to find the right position that won’t limit his movement.  

He grins to himself, delighting in the fact that you remembered something he’s only told you once.

“Yeah.” He clicks over his keyboard, trying to prepare himself for your touch. He takes a deep breath, his eyes fluttering a bit when he feels your palms smooth over his aching back.

He knows it might sound excessive but it really isn’t his fault.

The way you touch him has devasting effects on his ability to think clearly. He knows being in love intensifies things yes but, it’s the way you seem to know his body, the way you seem to treasure him and the way you seem to seek out the areas of his skin that are the most sensitive that drives him up the wall.  

Yoongi has a feeling that you’d be able to touch anyone this way but, he counts every single lucky star in the sky that he’s the one you want to touch.  

“Do you like it so far?” You lower your voice to the precipice of a whisper, not wanting to disturb him too much.

As he readies his reply, you begin gently massaging the parts of his back that you know bother him the most: his shoulder blade, the center of his spine and base of his neck. The close proximity allows you to take in the way your boyfriend smells: like clean laundry and the summer berries. You resist the urge to take a bite out of him as he replies.

“I do but it needs a lot of work still.” He realizes how quick he is to downplay his progress and he amends his response in order to give himself some credit, “I got a lot done today though and I’m excited to see where this track goes.”

His answer makes you happy as it’s not often Yoongi outwardly expresses excitement towards his current projects.  

“Do you like it?” He asks you, keeping his tone casual as he turns down the volume slightly, wanting to hear you clearly.

With a kiss to the back of his neck, you smile, “Honestly? I’m already in love with it. It has such a cool vibe. It’s very old school but also very modern at the same time, the lo-fi elements are sending me. I can’t wait to hear the vocals when you’re done with the lyrics.”

Yoongi grins, his features swimming with pride at your compliments. He is addicted to your praise in normal situations but hearing you compliment what he is most passionate about sends him into another world.

“Thank you.” He mumbles warmly, relaxing further into your touch, “I should be starting on vocals tomorrow I think. I don’t have the second verse done yet, but I think once I have everything recorded, it will give me more inspiration.”

You’re working at the tenderness surrounding his shoulder, not pressing too hard but insuring that your fingers are gently working all of the knots that have formed within his muscles. You wonder if it’s helping him at all but the way he sighs and presses against your hands tells you all you need to know. Before you’re able to continue the conversation, your boyfriend chuckles in front of you, almost in disbelief.

“What?” You prod, smiling at the sound of his laughter.

“Nothing it’s just-” He leans back against his chair fully causing you to remove your hands from him for moment, “if you had told 15 year old me that one day I would be working on my music, in a real studio, while the most beautiful girl in the world rubs my back for me, I would have told you to fuck off and stop messing with me.”

Your smile broadens as you lean forward, draping your arms around the back of the chair and resting them on your boyfriend’s chest. You place a kiss on his temple which makes him smile, his hands coming up to rest on top of yours.

“I wish 15 year old you didn’t have to endure so much but,” You kiss his cheek now, your heart filling with joy as his gums once again make an appearance, “I’m glad you’ve let me prove him wrong.”

He turns slightly, his lips brushing against your whilst he does and rather than say anything, he just places a soft kiss onto your mouth.

Despite the awkward angle, you reciprocate, allowing your lips to melt against his, kissing him slowly but deliberately. He tucks his lips between yours, nibbling gently at your bottom lip, a shaky breath escaping his nose. The hands he placed over yours intertwining messily with your fingers, squeezing softly whilst he cranes his neck to continue kissing you. Freeing one of your hands, you trail your fingers up the side of his throat, eliciting a shiver from your boyfriend as you cup his cheek.

It’s not an ideal angle to start making out but something about his throat and chest being exposed to you, makes it 10 times hotter. The beat of his song is still playing softly in the background until his hand suddenly moves from yours to hit the space bar. He doesn’t stop kissing you all the while, only seeking to deepen the motions between your lips. You allow your fingers to run up the side of his neck again as they tuck themselves into his hair, scratching tenderly at his scalp. Yoongi seems to sigh hopelessly into your mouth, unable to resist how weak you make him.  

You want to feel his tongue but just as you trace yours against the inside of his lips, he pulls away, a bit of shared saliva still connecting the two of you.

“Let’s go to bed...” He whispers shakily and you know very well what he means by that.

Seconds later, your back is pressed against the sheets covering the futon, your boyfriend quickly descending over you, his lips eagerly seeking yours again.  

He resumes his earlier motions with slightly more enthusiasm, sucking and licking into your mouth, his hips pressing down against yours. You can feel how hard he’s gotten, his erection straining painfully against the denim of his jeans. He doesn’t seem to mind though, his focus is on kissing you right now.  

You allow your hands to travel to the hem of his t-shirt, slipping your fingers beneath the material to explore the velvety texture of his skin. Yoongi’s hips and stomach are extremely sensitive, he’s told you before that touching him there is almost immediately going to get him hard. Given the fact that he’s already hard, he has no choice but to twitch around in his jeans while you touch him.  

In order to distract himself from the possibility of cumming in his pants, he pulls away from your lips momentarily to sit back on his knees. He stares down at you with an intensity he only reserves for performing and fucking, which to Yoongi, they are often one in the same. He pulls his t-shirt off hastily, throwing it behind him and revealing the beautiful expanse of his body to you. The sight of him makes you reach up with grabby hands, wanting nothing more than to feel his weight on you again. Instead of coming back down however, he merely smirks and shakes his head.

“Uh uh, it’s your turn...” He murmurs, his voice deep with the heavy arousal weighing on his tongue.  

You pout but otherwise oblige, pulling off the hoodie you’re wearing to reveal the black sports bra you had thrown on before coming to meet him here.  

Its nothing fancy or intentionally erotic but it gets Yoongi going anyway, merely because it’s your body.

He makes a small grunt in the back of his throat as he rushes back with his lips. He begins kissing over the swell of your breasts, biting and sucking as he does, his eyes shutting.

“How are you so fucking beautiful hm? Did they make you in a lab or something?” He accuses in his raspy voice, grinning when he hears you giggle.

“Yes actually they did- I've been meaning to tell you for awhile now but, I wasn’t sure how you’d react...”

He bites down harder on you playfully, sucking the skin between his teeth. The delicious sting causes a sharp intake of breath on your part and the sound makes Yoongi even harder. Licking over the purple mark he made, he pulls back to admire his work. With wet lips and dark eyes he looks up at you, a smirk on his mouth,

“I can see why you like giving me these so much...” He raps, his tongue poking out to lick at his bottom lip, “I want you covered in me now.”

His proclamation makes you sick with lust and you’re quick to pull him back over your completely, capturing his lips in a kiss once more.  

Yoongi is eager to reciprocate, his technique a lot sloppier now as the need to be inside of you slowly over takes him.

With one hand, he finds the button of his jeans and pops it open, sighing in relief as his dick is allowed the room it needs. Your hand is quick to cover his, searching for his swollen length mindlessly, desperate to touch him.

“Can I fuck you?” He whispers, nudging his nose on the tip of yours, “Please?”

You nod, kissing at his lips still, your breath uneven, “Yes please.”

The giggle that leaves your mouth shouldn’t spur him on but it does and after finally riding. both you and him of the rest of your clothes, Yoongi is lining himself at your entrance.  

He pushes inside of you, letting another shaky sigh out of his mouth before covering your body with his once more.  

It’s a slow but powerful fuck, leaving no room for the outside world.  

He kisses your face, your neck, your chest, your breasts and tells you how much he loves you.  

He rubs on your clit when you tell him how close you are, encouraging you to let go.

“Ah there it is- is that good jagi? Is it good? Are you gonna cum for me?” He whispers, his face tensing up with pleasure as you contract around him, “You’re squeezing me so tight, you’re doing so good. Just cum baby, I’ll cum too...I just wanna watch you.”

With choppy breath, you arch your back, your hands clawing at his free arm desperately, clining onto him as your orgasm begins crashing over you.

“Yoongi, I’m gonna cum- fu-fuck, fuck I’m gonna cum...I’m gonna cum, oh god...please don’t stop.” You moan softly and the sweetness in your voice drives Yoongi crazy, his pace against your clit increasing. He stares at you, a small but fucked out smile on his lips,

“Oh I’ll never stop sweetheart, not until you cum those pretty brains out...”

His words send you over the edge, your toes curling against the mattress as you whisper his name once again.  

The sight of you cumming is too much for him and although he normally cums inside of you, your post-orgasm haze has a different plan.

“Cum in my mouth.” You plead, tugging at his hips.

Yoongi swallows thickly, nearly blowing his load right then and there, “Really?”

“Yes.” You urge, tugging his hips again, “Please? I want to taste you. Remember you said you wanted me covered in you- cover me. Cover my face please.”

Yoongi’s brain literally short-circuits as he tries his best to process how fucking hot you’re being, his dick twitching inside of you.

“Anything you want remember baby? I’ll give you anything you want...” He grunts, his black hair sticking to his forehead with sweat as he pulls out of you, both of you pained by the loss of contact. He is quick to scoot up the bed until his soaking dick is positioned near your mouth, “I’m going to cum so fucking hard for you- are you gonna swallow it all?”

You nod, wrapping your hand around the length of him, licking at the slit, tasting the mixture of you and him together.  

“Until my stomach is full of you.” You promise before sucking him into your mouth

Yoongi finally breaks, whimpering for you as he usually does, his body jerking as the pleasure overtakes him,

“Holy fucking shit-” He whimpers again, his eyes rolling back as he gives you rope after rope of his release.

It’s a lot but you don’t care, you want every last drop of him. Your hand coaxes out the rest of his cum, your mind high off the taste of your boyfriend; there really is nothing better than this.

Yoongi tucks his fingers into your hair tenderly, grounding himself but also because he wants to touch you.

“Oh my god look at you ah- that's my fucking girl isn't it? You’re so pretty down there you know that? Made me cum so good.”

His voice is pitchy and fucked out and his praise makes you wet all over again, despite your need for a break.  

Immediately Yoongi leans down, kissing you with everything he has, licking at your mouth as if he wants a taste of himself.  

The kissing lasts for another minute or so before Yoongi lays down beside you, pulling you onto his chest.  

You burrow into him, soothing yourself with his unsteady heartbeat as he holds you.

Yoongi smiles down at you, despite the fact that you aren’t looking at him, taking a moment to thank all of his lucky stars once again.

You place a kiss to his chest before turning to look at him, rubbing a thumb over his reddened cheek, “I love you.”

He kisses your thumb, “I love you too.”  

[weareallstoriesintheend]

Deity - (Reader x Sub!Sackler)

Summary: Adam comes home from an audition in a raging mood and you know exactly how to calm him down. Sometimes a little bit of worship is all that is needed...

Based on the song Deity by Valeree

Warnings: Smut, Oral (F receiving), Fdom, Sub!Sackler

Words:  2,624

He slammed the door behind him with a classic elongated groan; you peeked over the top of the book you were reading as he threw his keys down on the side table and stomped around your apartment. You watched silently from the armchair as he trudged to the kitchen, kicking and throwing his clothes off him as he went. Adam was akin to a child in the way that ridding himself of his clothes helped rid him of his anger. He would always rip his shirt off over his head whenever he got even remotely frustrated, it was a quirk that you always quietly enjoyed. In fact you’d probably picked a fight or two in the past just to see him do it. You watched as he slammed the tap on to pour himself a glass of water before chugging it down in a terrifyingly small amount of gulps and slamming the glass down on the side. “Rough day?” you posed casually turning back to the page you were reading. “These fucking casting directors are a JOKE!” he shouted and began pacing once more shaking his clenched fists into the air. You bit back a giggle at his ridiculous motions. “I’m guessing the audition didn’t go well then?” you realised, as he turned to you, that this wasn’t usual Adam frustration; the over active emotions he usually displayed were gone, this was genuine hurt. So you chucked your book down on the coffee table and leant your elbows on your knees to show him you were listening. He flung himself round and dropped into the coach opposite you. He rubbed the flats of his palms into his eyes and grunted “I don’t know why I bother; every audition I do lately is just full of pretentious dicks who think being fucking pretty is what’s going to get them the job… and then it fuuuucking WORKS!” “But you are pretty baby” you teased slightly; he looked at you pouting, his lusciously full bottom lip jutting out. He whined and tilted his head back balling his fists up in his lap “That’s not the point!”

Honey, you look lost And I've never really been religious But I heard finding a God Just might help when someone's starting to feel helpless

“I know my love, sorry. Listen…” you waited until he looked back at you before continuing “You work so hard and I hate to see you losing hope. You’re passionate and talented and that’s what’s going to get you these jobs. But you have to fight for that! And keepfighting!” He was still pouting but he nodded silently, his eyebrows were pulled down over his sweet doe eyes. You smiled at him as something changed in his expression, a familiar twinkle glinted in his eye as he ran his gaze over your seated position. It was like he’d just realised what you were wearing, simply underwear and one of his old t-shirts that you practically drowned in as it ended at the tops of your thighs “What do you need darling? Tell me.” You asked.

I don't know much 'bout Buddhists, Jews, or Christians But I got something I think you could worship

Adam dropped to his knees and crawled the short distance between you until he was seated, leant back on his heels, at your feet. He was silent, staring at you with those pretty pleading eyes “You have to use your words Sackler.” you prompted. He practically wiggled in place as he hands came up to run along your bare thighs. You slapped his hands away and sat forward so you were close to his face, breath ghosting over him. He whined in protest but closed his eyes “Your words my love. You have to use them.” you stated, voice seductively lower. “You,” he whispered “I want you.” You smiled back at him, “I’m right here honey, what do you need?” He huffed a sigh and licked his bottom lip “I want to taste you… please. I want to worship you, take my mind off this fucking stupid day.” Those sweet doe eyes were back and you leant back with your elbows on the armrests of the chair for a moment pretending to be deep in thought. You took in the image of Adam, resting back on his heels in just his light grey underwear. His wide pale chest was heaving a little faster now; his long muscled arms were resting against his body, palms flat against his thighs. “Oh look at you sweetheart, so pretty for me” you chuckled. He nodded and inched a little closer “Please. I need something good in my day. You are my something good.”

You heart ached in your chest at his soft pleas. “Show me” you stated, he immediately widened his knees slightly and dropped his head. You followed his gaze to the growing bulge in his boxers “Oh” you gasped, you couldn’t help but lean forward as you spoke and capture his chin in your hand. Your other hand leant forward to touch his hardening cock, you touched him just so your fingers were barely grazing him and he bucked slightly. Bringing his face up to look at you you placed a soft kiss to his lips. He whined almost silently under his breath and pitched forward trying to keep your lips on his “Fuuuuck come on kid, I need this” he begged under his breath. You chuckled darkly at his sweet demeanor faltering slightly back into his usual cadence “Okay…” you stated, widening your legs and planting your feet either side of his thighs. “Be a good boy for me”

I’ll be your deity, fall to your knees Oh, honey, pray to me between the sheets

He dove forward and hooked his fingers into your underwear and ripped them harshly down your legs. You closed your knees together slightly and tsk’d at him “ah, ah, ah… slowly sweet boy” He nodded apologetically and began placing indulgent kisses up your thigh. The muscles twitched underneath his full lips and you sighed, leaning your head against the back of the chair “That’s it, I want to feel how badly you want this” His hands tentatively wrapped around your ankles, clearly unsure if he was allowed to touch you. You considered kicking him away but you looked down and his eyes caught yours. He licked a hot wet stripe up your inner right thigh and you could see the smirk twitching at his lips as you gasped despite yourself.

Get down and start to confess Come into the church between my legs Baby, and I’ll set you free

You abruptly sat up and grabbed his jaw in your hand squeezing tightly, he groaned at the feeling and you brought him up to your eye line “I see that smirk, here I thought you were being a good boy” “I am.” he smiled “No I don’t think you are, you come in here stomping around my apartment like a fucking child, like you own the place, and now you think you can act all cocky to me?” His expression suddenly changed again, his eyebrows quirked a little and he squirmed in your grasp “I’m sorry” he whispered, stuttering slightly as he spoke. “What was that?” you asked, squeezing his jaw tighter. He winced “I’m sorry!” “Look at you, pathetic. All pouty and whiny for me. But look…” you lowered your eyes to his hard cock evident between his powerful thighs, a small wet patch was darkening where his pre-cum had soaked through the light material “… You can’t control yourself can you? Sweet little boy is all needy from the mere thought of tasting my cunt” He nodded frantically and you let go of his jaw “I-I’m sorry. Please” he whispered again, fingers twitching in his lap. You aww’d at him, he looked so innocent when he begged. “Do you want to be good Adam?” you questioned, already knowing the answer but wanting the admission to come from his lips only. “Yes! Please I want to make you feel good. Let me earn you.” he cried out; big, wide eyes looked up at you as you nodded allowing him to continue.

Oh, I don't believe in a vengeful God No, I don't believe in punishing the sinner Unless punishment's the kind of love you want

He kissed quick, soft pecks up both of your thighs and you savoured the feeling of his timid grasp on your ankles. You invited him closer by parting your legs a little more, unable to take your eyes of his ministrations. Having him like this thrilled you; the thought of this large, beautiful man who usually pinned you down and made you beg for his cock now on his knees pleading for just a taste of you made you soaked beyond belief.

His lips glided closer to your cunt along your goosebumped skin, your clit was throbbing harder as you tried to keep your composed control. He was taking his time, cherishing the soft skin between your legs but you needed him. You snaked your hand into his hair and tugged up, he cried out in your grasp before moaning into the folds of your cunt. You sighed, releasing him and leaning back once more. You closed your eyes and took in the feeling of his soft tongue gliding over you “Yes, that’s it. Fuck, that feels good” you hummed almost to yourself. He moaned into you and the vibrations made you shudder, he wrapped his lips around your clit and began sucking. He knew just how much you loved the sensation of his skilled mouth around your clit, the amount of times you’d begged for it he knew exactly what you needed in this moment. You looked down and took in the contentment on his face, eyes closed in what could only be described as absolute bliss as he busied himself in your dripping cunt. “You’re doing so good for me baby” You whispered, stroking his hair from his face. You looked down and saw him palming his cock with one hand, wriggling in his kneeling position. You flicked your foot to tap his arm “Did I tell you you could do that?” Without lifting his mouth from you he shook his head and didn’t even opening his eyes, you held back the moan that threatened to ripple through you “Then stop” you ordered. He whined and looked up at you with those beautiful eyes, you almost caved to his neediness but then you got an idea.

I don't know much 'bout Orthodox traditions But I got something I think you should worship

“I’ll make you a deal, make me cum and I’ll think about letting you do the same” you smiled, his eyes lit up and suddenly he was devouring you. Gripping your legs once again he moaned and grunted into you. Shockwaves of pleasure were crackling over your skin and it was your turn to cry out, plunging your hands into his messy hair you clutched him to you. Your tight hole was clenching around nothing as you dripped onto the chair below you. “Yes, just like that. Good boy, keep doing that” you rambled as you were lost in the feeling of his hot mouth on you. Your stomach was tightening and your thighs clamped around his head unable to stop your hips from bucking into his face. He knew you so well, he knew every sound and move you made as you got closer and closer to cumming. Suddenly his hands leave your legs and tuck up under you, lifting you off the seat closer to him. You wanted to stop him, scold him for doing something without permission but the quivering in your thighs and the choking moans you were letting out meant you could barely speak. You gripped his arms to steady yourself, balanced precariously on his large palms. “Make me cum! Yes, fuck, make me cum!” you chanted and one with one hard suck directly on your clit you felt yourself tumbling into white-hot pleasure. Uninhibited cries leave you as you dig your fingernails deep into his arms, your muscles stiff and burning hot as you convulse against him. He rests you down into the chair once more, placing gentle kisses to your trembling thighs once more as you pant and whimper. “You did so well for me.” you whisper as you meet his expectant gaze. You can see his palms tapping his thighs, you hadn’t realised he had managed to free himself from his boxers. His thick, aching cock was now twitching below you and you laughed. “Okay” that was all you needed to say before his hand was stroking it. He hissed at the sensation, leaning his head back.

You leant forward and stroked his pale shoulders where they were tinged with a blush of red, they glistened with sweat from his effort “You did so good Adam” you cooed at him “You’re so sweet to me” He whined and looked back at you, his bottom lip was sucked in between his teeth and his eyebrows were pulled down in desperation. His hand picked up speed between you “You did exactly as I asked didn’t you?” He nodded frantically, panting at the speed he was stroking. “And you did so good in that audition today, I know you did. My talented boy, you deserve the world you know that?” you whispered, stroking his sweat soaked hair back out of his face. You ran your fingertips down his face, tracing light teasing patterns over all the angles you loved, his cheeks were flushed an exquisite pink. You ran the tip of your finger down his beautiful, aquiline nose that you absolutely adored and he moaned, his eyes brimming like he could cry. His hand picked up speed once again and his hips were rutting up into his grasp. You wiped sweat from his temple and kissed his forehead, leaning forward so you could whisper in his ear “Tell me how good it feels. Tell me how good it feels to worship at my feet” “S-so good” he stuttered “So fucking good!”

Baby, praise me. Make me your deity and I'll set you free

“That’s it Adam, cum for me. You deserve it.” He tilted forward, placing his forehead on your shoulder with a groan. You placed kisses to every inch of skin you could reach up and down his neck, sucking gently on his earlobe “Cum for me.” He explodes with a deep groan, thick ropes of cum splashing up onto his stomach and over his hand. He huffs and grunts, rutting up into his hands in stuttered thrusts. He sways slightly as his breathing slows and you reach out to grab his shoulders and steady him.

Once you had caught your breath you stood. You made your way to the kitchen bare feet padding quietly on the cold floor, knees wobbling beneath you, to get a towel. Walking back to him you saw him watching your every move with a dazed smile on his face, his eyelids were drooped and sweat droplets dripped deliciously down the centre of his chest. You dropped the towel into his outstretched hands and chuckled as he wiped his cum agitatedly from his hands and stomach with a slight grimace. Bending down you knelt down on the floor in front of him, taking his face in both your hands and kissing him. You stroked your tongue into his mouth, delighting in the taste of your juices on his lips. “Such a good boy for me” you teased quietly. “Fuck off kid” he laughed, blushing a deeper shade pink. He leant his forehead against yours and sighed “Thank you”.

[tarhalindur]

Rebellion’s Biggest Outstanding Question

(Big fat PMMM+Rebellion spoilers under the cut, natch:)

Homura, at the end of Rebellion, believes that she is rebelling against Madoka’s will.  But is she actually doing so?  Or is she acting in accordance with it?

Let me explain.

I’ll start with the point I’m sold on either way (and have commented on at least twice before, including my explanation of Madoka’s other big mistake): Rebellion is directly downstream of Madoka making a single mistake immediately after her ascension in episode 12, a moment when she could not afford to make any mistake at all.  Much like Madoka’s other big mistake in episode 10, this one is not obvious on the surface and only becomes clear when looking at the events through a symbolic lens.

Specifically, a Buddhist symbolic lens.

I’ll leave the full explanation there to this post, which lays out the Buddhist influence on base PMMM’s themes and imagery and on Madokami’s ascension better than I could.  (Although its author is missing a few points.  First, the shot of Madoka expanding to galaxy size is DIRECTLY out of ego death symbolism.  Which makes sense, because there’s enough accounts to suggest that regardless of whether or not it has any deeper meaning beyond brain chemistry the people who’ve had it are describing a single class of subjective experience, and “one’s consciousness expanding to the size of the galaxy” seems to be a common feature of it - I’ve read at least one account of that kind of experience from, of all people, a random Protestant minister who claims to have had such an experience on a vision trip to the Amazon and only later realized that there was precedent for that kind of experience in Buddhist traditions, and he mentions that exact expansion as part of what he went through.  Second, the flower on Madoka’s bow is a rose, not a willow... which makes sense, because “Guanyin/Kannon and the Virgin Mary are two aspects of the same goddess” has been a theory in certain parts for at least a century, and the rose has a traditional association with the latter goddess - there���s a reason they call it the rosary, after all.  (I’ve seen speculation out of a few polytheist/less orthodox Christian circles I keep tabs on that Pistis Sophia is yet another aspect of the same goddess, too...)  Third, note all the mandala symbolism floating around - most obviously Walpurgisnacht’s appearance and Kyubey’s exposition in episode 11.)

And that influence is important here, because part of the process of the escape from samsara is the breaking of all karmic ties to the world.

Except... Madoka does not do this.  She leaves one karmic tie behind.

This one, to be precise:

Now, in theory it’s possible that the tainted miracle of Homura remembering Madoka has another root.  But I have my doubts, and the biggest piece of evidence there is the OST: the track that plays when Homura meets Junko in the finale and offers to give up the ribbons is named Taenia Memoriae, aka “the ribbon of memories”.  HMM,

(That Junko scene is in this regards the single most enigmatic scene of the main series finale to me.  My instinct is that it’s drawing off of Christian mythos again, either canonical or Gnostic, but I can’t quite place what piece; I kind of want to compare it specifically to the Denial of Peter.)

Now, there’s two other pieces here that are worth noting.

1) While Homulilly is described as the Nutcracker Witch in Rebellion, Homulilly’s name and Witch card are first revealed in the PSP game, and there she goes by a rather different epithet: Witch of the Mortal World, nature is karma.  Which is rather on the nose (the Mortal World [shigan] being another term for samsara), but then that’s probably by design - main series PMMM is not subtle at all when it wants to make a point.  And it is this epithet, not the Nutcracker Witch, that the Doppel versions of Homulilly in MagiReco draw off of, which suggests the staff considered it important.  (There’s a second distinction in the latter, because Moemura’s version of the Doppel implies that Homulilly’s nature was originally slightly different again - Witch of the Mortal World, nature is closed circuits - but I think for our purposes here this is a difference without true distinction, much like the Witch of the Near Shore pun for swimsuit!Moemura’s version of Homulilly.)  And there’s echoes of this even in Rebellion: the Clara Dolls are of course referred to as the Children of the Mortal World, plus of course the obvious “Homulilly’s Rebellion barrier as the Mortal World” take.  (Which, hmm.  Hello second-order symbolism - Homura failing to “break out of the egg” as failure to escape the cycle of samsara.)

2) The red ribbons of course suggest a very specific form of karmic tie - the Red String of Fate.  And you can be very, very sure that the staff intended that, too.  To drag a certain piece of key animation back out from storage:

While it’s hard to tell at this size, it sure looks to my eyes like the two ends are specifically tied around the girls’ pinkies.  You know, exactly where the proverbial Red String is said to be tied.

Or, to put it another way: AI YO.

Everything in Rebellion is downstream of this.

But all this is prologue.  Now that we have established the mistake, we can address the actual outstanding question: Did Madoka intend to make that mistake?  People have noted the applicability of Junko’s comments about intentionally making a big mistake when backed into a corner to Homura’s actions in Rebellion; do they also apply to the action Madoka took that led to that?

I am not sure.  Both cases are consistent, and I’d put about even odds either way.  But it’s the affirmative case I want to lay out here, to show that it does in fact exist:

- Let’s start with the one point someone else might bring up that I don’t really weight: Madoka’s final conversation with Homura in the flower bed.  This one, I think, can mostly be discarded.  We have word from both Kyubey and Sayaka that Madoka does not have her memories here; I can’t see both of them lying here.  (Also remember that Kyubey seems to have restriction that is sometimes said to apply to demons, at least under certain circumstances: he cannot directly tell a lie.  This is of course a very different thing from having to tell the truth, as episode 9 alone is enough to attest, but in this specific case it’s a boost to his credibility.)  If there’s an actual argument here, it’s a second-order one; it is possible, especially given her divine abilities, that Madokami was running a Xanatos Gambit and counting on her amnesiac projection to unwittingly relay her true feelings.  (In which case I would have to grab a certain infamous line from another well-known anime: “Just as planned”.)

- That one shot of Madokami’s gloved, scarred arm reaching down through the window to touch Homura.  Operative word scarred.  (And honestly, looking at one of the subs for that scene again Madoka’s comments there look potentially consistent with her actually supporting of or at least accepting Homura becoming a demon...)

- Mata Ashita, specifically the lyrics thereof.  With the perspective of the full series, Madoka’s character song is fairly clearly from the perspective of Madokami, and it’s suggestive that she is not entirely happy with the results of her wish and ascension.

- The fact that Rebellion happened at all.  There’s a complaint that I’ve seen regarding the mechanics of the Incubators’ plot in Rebellion: logically, by the wording of Madoka’s final wish the Incubators’ plan to use the Isolation Field to block the Law of Cycles should not work, since part of Madoka’s wish was to rewrite any rule or law that would prevent her from destroying Witches with her own hands, including the one the Incubators set up with their Isolation Field - doubly so if you take Madokami’s statement can see every world that ever existed or could ever exist and apply it to the Sealed Reality the experiment generates.  Except... there is one way that argument fails, regardless of anything else: namely, if Madoka saw what the Incubators were doing and intentionally allowed their experiment to proceed.  And at this point there is precedent for her doing something very similar; AIUI in her Magical Girl Story in MagiReco Madokami does something very similar wrt the MagiReco timeline, deliberately declining to destroy it despite its continued existence conflicting with the Law of Cycles.

(- Magia.  This point of argument I’m not convinced of either, but let’s lay it out.  (Honestly, even if I’m right I’m not sure how much of this was consciously intended, but creations can have a life of their own - especially creations where fucking natural disasters delay them so that they’re released on the most appropriate day possible!)  There’s two pieces to this, one I’m more sure of than the other:

1) The visuals.  Here’s the spot where I feel most solid about interpreting Magia: the ED visuals are clearly a reference to Madokami’s ascension.  (The show loves hiding that sort of foreshadowing in plain sight, why would you be surprised?)  Note the second half particularly, both Madoka’s hair lengthening and the starfield she’s running past.  (I think the order of the four other girls in the first half is probably how long they held out without Witching out.)  That leaves two issues, one more obvious to Western audiences and one less so.  First, that enigmatic and ominous shot of Madoka in fetal position (appropriate - her request in 10 and then her wish in 12 can be rephrased as “don’t let me grow up”) in the eye of Mephisto.  Second, there’s a point I’ve seen raised in analyses of Connect: in Japanese cinematography, motion from right to left indicates a correct course (unlike its Western equivalent, where the opposite applies)... and for the entirety of Magia Madoka is moving left-to-right.

2) The lyrics.  This is the part I’m less sold on, but once again let’s lay out the affirmative.  My line here derives from a hunch: Connect is famously from Homura’s perspective despite appearing to be from Madoka’s, perhaps the inverse is also true?  I’m still not sure there, but especially if you’re considering the TV version it can work... provided the lyrics are specifically from Madokami’s perspective again.  Grabbing the wiki version of the translation: “The light of love lit within your eyes will transcend time” sure fits better if we’re talking about Homura rather than about Madoka, likewise “with this power that can break even darkness” sure sounds like a better fit for Madokami to me.  And in that case the most interesting stanza is the second: “Swallow down your hesitation.  What is it that you wish for?  With the direction of this greedy admiration, will there be a short-lived tomorrow?”  The former two lines  are quite consistent with Homura’s decision in Rebellion (and I note the visual of Homura biting down on her Soul Gem to break it!), and “tomorrow” is consistently a reference to the possibility of Homura and Madoka meeting again in other PMMM songs (Mata Ashita again, Colorful, Connect full version) - which is realized courtesy of a greedy admiration, no less.  So.  Magia’s full version might count, too - there’s lines there that are harder to square from a Madokami perspective (”if I can move forward without hesitation then it’s fine if my heart gets broken” especially), but “Someday, for the sake of someone else, you too will wish for great power; on the night love captures your heart, unknown words will be born” fits Homura’s fall better than Madoka’s wish, I think.)

- If Madoka’s mistake in 12 is intentional then it more closely mirrors her (unintentional) mistake in 10: she’s implicitly asking Homura to once again do something she can’t and stop her from/alleviate the effects of her making a mistake.

- At a Doylist level, if they go for a proper happy end (either in Walpurgis no Kaiten or in a hypothetical sequel to the same) I’m not sure there’s any way they can get there without using this interpretation.  (In general, the two outcomes that make the most sense to me are “Akuhomu becomes the core of Walpurgisnacht, cue ending scene with Moemura making her wish” (the Logic Error ending, consistent with the Eternal Return of the Self; cue MagiReco as the way out) or an ending based on the answer to this question being yes - the easy version being a movie of everyone except Homura fighting to let Madoka rejoin the Law of Cycles only for her to surprise everyone with some sort of ending based on “actually, I was counting on her to do this from the start”.)

[kryptkept]

(   ellie thatcher ,   female ,   she/her  )   apparently   that's   𝐋𝐘𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍   lurking   around   town   for   a year .   the   local   psychic   claims   they're   a   𝐕𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄   (   record store clerk   )   who's   𝟐𝟑   /   𝟒𝟓  years    old    but   she's   always   been   a   bit   unhinged .   whispers   around   town   say   they're   intrepid ,   artful   but   mordant .   honestly ,   they   remind   me   of   using pages of the bible as tinder for a fire , getting a stick & poke in your best friend’s basement , & the liberation of forsaking your savior   which   explains   why   i've   seen   them   with   an   aged rosary . 

𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄.   lydia emerson  ;  born as  lydia anne morgan  . 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐒.   lydia myers  ,  sawyer augustine  ,  valerie tatum smith  ,  various others  . 𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒.   lyd  ,  lydz  ,  deetz  . 𝐀𝐆𝐄.   physically 23  ;  truly 45  . 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑.   female  ;  she/her  . 𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘.   bisexual  . 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐒.   vampire  . 𝐎𝐂𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.   clerk  @  quiet riot records shop  . 𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘.

(   tws for  :  abuse  ,  loss of a child  ,  alcoholism  ,  attempted murder  ,  period typical misogyny  ,  if i’ve forgotten to tag anything or you need something tagged please let me know  !   ) lydia was born in 1960 to a moderately unhappy pair looking to save both face  &  their miserable marriage  .  while they had initially been informed that they were expecting twins  ,  lydia’s sibling died in utero  &  thereafter was absorbed by lydia herself in a case of twin resorption  .  while there was little explanation for this phenomenon at the time  ,  lydia’s mother  ,  theresa  ,  was distraught  ,  under the assumption that lydia must have killed her sibling in the womb if only she had survived  ,  and began to view the child growing inside of her as something akin to the devil  .  this belief was only exacerbated by the difficult pregnancy she endured with lydia  ,  anf further stoked by her strict catholic beliefs  . after her birth  ,  theresa’s feelings remained unchanged  ;  she was a withdrawn  ,  angry mother  ,  forced to keep up the act of a perfectly quaint little family in front of friends  &  family  .  unfortunately  ,  theresa fell victim to severe postpartum depression which would devolve into full blown psychosis  .  given the time period  ,  this went largely unnoticed for the most part  ,  written off as the stress a new mother must endure for the sake of her child  .  meanwhile  ,  lydia’s father  ,  richard  ,  was of little help  .  he was similarly withdrawn but as opposed to theresa  ,  this was less rooted in hatred and more in the general apathy he faced most things with  .  coming from a broken home himself  ,  directionless in life  &  uninspired  ,  he’d long since turned to the drink as a way of coping  &  the arrival of his daughter had done little to change that  . in a hazy memory that haunts lydia to this day  ,  she can recall the day her mother wrapped both hands around her throat a the tender age of three  ,  and attempted to squeeze every last bit of life from her  .  all the while  ,  she was shrieking like a banshee about how lydia was a demon  ,  the antichrist  ,  nothing but a  plague  .  her father found them moments before lydia slipped into unconsciousness  ,  and she has little recollection of what happened between them after that  . the situation itself resulted in theresa’s departure  .  this would eventually lead to lydia being left in the care of her maternal grandparents after three more years spent with her father  ,  who spent more time under the influence than he did sober  .  her grandmother  &  grandfather were strict and very much orthodox  ,  though they  did  love her  ,  but their expectations of her were far too lofty  .  they weren’t the affectionate type  ,  but were more prone to physical rewards than words of praise or hugs  .  her childhood  &  adolescence were pockmarked with various attempts at rebellion  ;  talking back  ,  sneaking out of sunday school  ,  sneaking out at home  ,  meeting up with the outcasts in town despite often being warned to steer clear of them  ,  stealing  ,  etcetera  .  lydia was desperate to feel something and in pursuit of pleasure  ,  she continued to act out and do as she pleased  .  she began to dabble in darker things  :  the supernatural  &  the occult  ,  namely  .  she was kicked out of her home at 18 and spent her time couch surfing  . as the 80′s rolled around  ,  she delved into the world of satanism  , urged on by the need to separate herself from her heavily religious upbringing  &  the ways in which her experiences during childhood had effected her  ;  essentially  ,  a big  fuck you  to the majority of her family  ,  and to god himself  .  at this point she was on the other side of the satanic panic  ,  laughing at those that protested and screeched about unholy corruption in things like music  &  literature  . lydia was well known on the scene .  with her sharp humor and devil may care attitude  ,  she was the life of the parties she frequently attended  .  and it was during the aftermath of one such event that she would come to lose her life  :  taken with a perfect stranger  ,  she’d followed him into the darkened alleyways as the party came to a close  ,  unaware of his intentions to quite literally bleed her dry  . when she woke the following night  ,  she was in a haze  ,  wobbling like a baby deer and overcome with a hunger so intense it almost sent her toppling to the ground  .

𝐈𝐍 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍.

as opposed to some  ,  lydia accepted her fate with little complaints  .  in fact  ,  you might say she was a little  too  enthusiastic  ...  driven by thirst  ,  she slaughtered a group of college students and left them out in the open air of the park they’d been having a nighttime hangout at  .  she fled town soon after  ,  leaving behind the sunny shores of california for the emptiness of indiana  .  she began going by the name lydia myers meanwhile  . after that  ,  she never really stayed in one place for too long  .  she loved to travel  ,  enjoying her freedom immensely  ,  and found kin with the people she met along the way  .  most of these relationships were fairly fickle  ,  in the grand scheme of things  ;  most people she charmed out of necessity  .  it was nice to have a friend to call on when you needed a place to stay  ,  or a few bucks for bus fare  .  it was a genuine rarity for her to find herself truly attached to another  ,  because she feared commitment more than anything  ;  she still does  ,  in fact  .  letting someone grow close means giving them the chance to hurt you  ,  to leave you  ,  and lydia is  ...  not about that  .

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘.

though she’d initially vowed upon her departure that she’d never return to cali  ,  lydia has come slinking back  .  if you ask her why  ,  she’ll tell you it’s boredom  ,  and that much is true  —  but a pressing matter remains  :  that of her sire  .  she’s been running from him for 22 years since her turning  ,  but recently  ,  she’s felt a sharp tug on the thread that keeps them connected  .  both curious and vexed  ,  and maybe searching for an answer to a question she’s tried not to ask  ,  she’s tracked him back to ambrose  .  to support herself  ,  she’s taken up a job at the record store   (   one of the things she’s always enjoyed has been music  !   )

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘.

hello words are failing me so take some bullet point traits  .  :,) +   creative  ,  adventurous  ,  brave  ,  resourceful  ,  charismatic   (   when necessary   )  . -   manipulative  ,  sardonic  ,  evasive  ,  stubborn  ,  dishonest  ,  hotheaded .

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒.

hi please bring me her sire  .  i have  ... honestly too many ideas to list here because i don’t want to risk rambling for like  ,  eight paragraphs about everything lmao  .

i think it would be interesting if she ran into someone she hasn’t seen for years  .  maybe they were one of the people she used  ,  and they’re super pissed at her for how she just ghosted  .  or maybe they look back on her fondly  .

she antagonizes people for fun  .  please hate her

she’s also definitely the type to flat out tell people she’s a vampire  .  and like  ,  given her usual sarcastic  ,  jokey nature  ... people probably just take it as her messing around  .  which is even more hilarious to her  .  this could result in  :  1.  someone who constantly goes along with the ‘joke’  ,  who maybe later on finds out and either also thinks it’s funny  ,  is horrified  ,  or feels betrayed   (   to which lydz would respond with  but i told you  ?   )   2.  someone who is very suspicious of her and Does Not think it’s just a funny joke at all

𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑.

she loves going to the beach late at night  .  like  ,  the sand getting everywhere sucks  ,  but she’ll deal with it  .

she can be surprisingly generous when in a good mood  .  when she says don’t mention it  ,  she fuckin means it

loves motorcycles  ,  wants one someday

has an old polaroid camera from the 80′s that she still uses pretty frequently  .  she enjoys photography  !

i need you all to know i literally came up with her because i listened to kiss the go goat by ghost for hours on end over the span of a few days please help i can’t stop

[jadejedi]

Love Does Not Fail (7/?)

Summary: When Anakin saves the galaxy from Palpatine, Padmé and his children survive, but their family is split apart nonetheless. Leia is taken to be raised in the Temple, not knowing that the Jedi who “found” her is actually her father. Luke grows up with Padmé, knowing only his mother’s side of the family. But some things are inevitable.

Chapter Summary: A new darkness arises in the galaxy.

ao3 link: here

A/N: Sorry it’s been nearly ten months lmao. Oops. Thanks for reading, let me know what you think! (more notes and thoughts on ao3)

“Are you sure that this is the best time to start dragging him around the galaxy?” Anakin asked Ahsoka skeptically, with a bit of an edge to it. She knew he was protective of Luke, and she respected that but-

“I am his teacher, Anakin,” she reminded him, trying to keep her tone gentle rather than defensive . They met about once a month, usually at some diner or bar in what she wouldn’t necessarily describe as a shady part of Coruscant, but shady-adjacent, perhaps, to catch up and talk about Luke’s training. “He’s ready to do some travelling without Padmé. And it’s not like it’ll be anything different than what he does with Padmé, anyways. Just more of a focus on training.” 

At the still unconvinced expression on his face, Ahsoka sighed, and softened. “I promise I’ll be extra careful on what assignments we take him on. We won’t get involved in this Snoke guy’s business.”

“I know,” Anakin sighed. “I still don’t like it.”

As much as she believed Luke was ready to do some travelling with her and Barriss, she understood Anakin’s worries. Five months ago marked the beginning of a new Senate rotation. Bail Organa’s time as Chancellor was over, as he had set stricter term limits for the office. Mon Mothma had been elected Chancellor, and her Vice Chancellor was now Mazun Dul, the Senator from Corellia. 

Dul’s election had been troubling to many, as he represented a new political party that had arisen with Palpatine’s downfall. They called themselves the First Order. Their leader, Corellia’s new prime minister, a man called Snoke, pushed for Republic expansion in the Outer Rim as well as less Republic intervention in already ‘civilized’ worlds.

The First Order was good at playing around the issue, but Ahsoka, as well as Padmé and many others, could tell that they held the same anti-alien sentiments that Palpatine had secretly harboured. 

Since the election of Snoke, Corellia had been swept up in violence, from both its criminal element and from his political detractors. Other worlds that also had a First Order presence had also started experiencing small amounts of violence, usually protests gone south, or riots. 

“Look, whatever Snoke is playing at, he won’t get very far,” Ahsoka tried to reassure him. “People are still wary of conflict so soon after the Clone Wars. They’ll get tired of the violence he’s stirring up. And I promise we’ll stay away from worlds with a First Order presence; we’re going to Kashyyk. Since Wookies have a long history of being exploited in this kind of conflict, their leaders are worried. Padmé just needs us to go and calm them down a bit. We’ll be talking to their leaders, then delivering supplies to an area affected by a storm; we’ll be fine.”

Ahsoka was the best person for this job, because she understood Shyriiwook, and she knew one of their leaders. 

Anakin gave her a look. “Isn’t that where you got kidnapped and hunted for sport?”

“That was Trandosha,” she corrected him. “It’s close by, but we’ll be coming from a totally different direction,” she assured him. “We won’t even be passing by it.”

“Fine,” Anakin assented begrudgingly, even though Ahsoka wasn’t really looking for his permission. 

“Make sure you keep your lightsabers out of sight,” Anakin reminded her, and she had to keep herself from rolling her eyes.

“I’m not stupid,” she told him, raising an eyebrow.

“I never said you were!” 

“You’ve got to trust that I know what I’m doing, Anakin.” She sighed. “The lightsaber laws are nothing new. Barriss and I would never do anything that would put Luke or Padmé at risk.”

Years ago, not long after Bail Organa had been elected Chancellor, there had been some debate about the Sith, and whether or not it was illegal to hold such beliefs. However, it had not been popular to criminalize an entire religion, so instead, certain measures had been put into place to appease the Jedi, such as making it illegal to carry or wield a lightsaber unless one was a member of the Order. 

Ahsoka continued to carry her lightsaber anyways, concealed away in a pocket or in a bag.

“How is Leia?” she asked, changing the subject.

Anakin did not look impressed by her attempt to move on, but did so anyway. “She’s doing well, I think. She’s near the top of her clan in lightsaber skills.”

“Have you ever considered teaching more than just lightsaber classes?” she asked.

“No,” he replied with a shake of his head. “My teachings aren’t very orthodox.” 

She laughed. “No, they’re not.” She smiled at him. “I learned a lot from you in just three years, and lightsaber duels was only a bit of it.”

“Me and the Jedi ways don’t get along very well,” he insisted.

Ahsoka shook her head, exasperated. “Anakin, you always complain about the things the Jedi teach, but you never bother to teach yourself.”

Anakin crossed his arms defensively. “I’m more of a duelist than a philosopher. I’m doing my best with them, Snips.”

Ahsoka softened. “I know you are. I’m sure Leia appreciates having you around, even if she doesn’t know why. But, I really think that you could be a good influence on them. Don’t you? Give them a new perspective?”

“I’m sure Obi-Wan would be thrilled that I’m taking an interest in philosophy,” he agreed after a moment of consideration. “I don’t know about everyone else.”

She laughed. 

--

Ahsoka went straight to the apartment she shared with Barriss after lunch. Luke wouldn’t be done with school for another couple of hours, and the Senate was more Padmé and Dormé’s realm. She could use the time to pack for the trip to Kashyyyk. 

She found Barriss meditating in the living room of the apartment. Where Ahsoka tended to prefer wearing jumpsuits when she was working or, if she was working on official business of the Naboo Senatorial office, something similarly functional with a bit more professionalism, Barriss preferred a slightly more elegant look, just as she had as Jedi. Today, she was wearing a flowy black skirt and a nice but comfortable looking blue blouse. 

“How did it go?” she asked, eyes still closed in meditation.

“Well,” Ahsoka said as she pulled off her shoes and made her way over to the sofa behind her, “he tried to talk me out of it,” she said, leaning back against the sofa, “but he relented eventually.”

“His fear controls him,” Barriss said after a moment, opening her eyes and relaxing her posture slightly, turning to face Ahsoka. 

“It does not!” she disagreed, although sometimes she thought otherwise. “Luke’s his son, it’s natural for him to worry. And hey, he changed his mind, didn’t he? He’s always given me room to train Luke as I see fit.”

Barriss nodded her head, conceding the point. “Fair enough. He’s still not good at controlling his emotions,” she continued before Ahsoka could come to Anakin’s defense again. 

Ahsoka sighed. Since being released from prison, and even before, Barriss had believed that her fall had been due to her emotions- fear, anger, hate. So, now she strove to rid herself of those emotions, to feel peace. 

Ahsoka didn’t disagree that Barriss’s actions against the Jedi had been motivated by those emotions, but she thought that maybe there was more to it than that. 

Luke, for all that he was a child, did not seem to struggle with the same parts of his training than she, and most young Jedi, had. Peace came easily to him. Maybe it was his personality, but that’s not all it was. He was a very sweet, gentle child, but he was still impatient, reckless. Ahsoka privately thought that his peace came from the fact that he didn’t have to struggle with his emotions. He just- felt. 

Maybe that was making it too easy for him, and it would backfire later, but for now, Ahsoka was content to continue down their current path. Sometimes the easy path was easy because it was a shortcut, a dangerous way to get to one’s goal, but sometimes the easy path was easy simply because it means you’re doing it right.

So, she taught Luke to not try and separate himself from his emotions, but to be in harmony with them, and she was trying to teach herself the same thing. 

But Barriss disagreed. 

“Maybe trying to control our emotions at all is what is dangerous,” Ahsoka suggested hesitantly, leaning forward, bracing her elbows on her knees. 

Barriss shook her head, her intense blue eyes pointed at the ground. “If we don’t control our emotions, then they will control us.” She reached up to fiddle with the ends of her dark hair that she kept shoulder length, longer than when they’d been Padawans. She was beautiful, as she always had been. She looked up; her eyes held Ahsoka’s gaze. “Emotions like that are like an ocean. Fear, anger, and hatred-”

“And love,” Ahsoka added.

Barriss nodded, face still passive. “And love. They’ll toss you around, try to drown you, sweep you off the shore. You have to build a wall, to protect yourself from it.”

“The ocean doesn’t try to do anything. It just is,” Ahsoka countered. “If you learn to swim, or have a boat, then you’re safe.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you?”

Ahsoka huffed and leaned back against the sofa. She knew what Barriss was saying. That the ocean- emotions- would always be dangerous. Even if you could swim, or be safely in a boat, there were always dangers lurking beneath the surface. Not to mention the storms. 

--

Leia sat in one of the Temple’s small meditation rooms alone. Normally she meditated with her clan, but right now, she just needed time alone. 

She took in a deep breath, holding it in for a moment, and exhaling slowly. She repeated the exercise a few times until she felt centered. 

She’d had a dream last night. It hadn’t been a normal dream, like her reoccurring dream about falling into one of the fountains in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, or even a nightmare. 

In the dream, she’d seen faces, people. A woman she could barely make out, with curly brown hair and a kind smile. A man with curly dark blond hair. A few others, another woman, more distant with darker hair, and a humanoid alien of some kind that was too blurry to recognize. And a child. 

She couldn’t tell if she was the child, or if she was watching the child. She saw them all against the background of a green meadow. It felt slow, idyllic, peaceful. 

Leia tried to focus, tried to see their faces clearly, but she couldn’t. 

The dream, it was beautiful, but sad. 

It was her family, she knew. She wondered if the dream was sad because it made her sad, or if the memory itself was sad. It felt like a beautiful memory. 

Leia did another round of breathing exercises and tried to push past the memory. She focused on the emotions the dream stirred up in her: sadness, confusion, wanting.

She repeated the Jedi Code silently in her mind as she breathed, releasing her emotions into the Force. 

There is no emotion, there is peace. 

Her sadness was only disturbing the peace within her; she had to let it go.

There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.

She pushed away her confusion, focusing on what she knew. The dream was of her family, but they were not important. She was a Jedi, the Jedi were her family. 

There is no passion, there is only serenity.

Love, Leia knew, was passion. Family, attachments, these things broke the serenity of a Jedi’s mind. She didn’t want them.

There is no chaos, there is only harmony.

Her mind must be calm, pushing away the emotions. She must be at one with all around her.

 There is no death, there is only the Force. 

The Force contained all things, and when something died, it was absorbed into the Force. Her time with her family was dead. It had lived when the Force had needed it to, but that time had passed, and all was as the Force willed it.

With one last deep breath, Leia slowly got up from her meditation pose and found herself heading not towards where she knew her clan’s history lesson was supposed to start, but towards the part of the Temple where most of the Knight’s quarters were. 

She walked purposefully, but not too quickly, trying to pretend like she belonged here during a part of the day when most initiates were in classes, until she reached Jedi Skywalker’s door. She hesitated only briefly before knocking.

She felt him reach out to see who was at his door. Hi, she projected.

After a moment, he opened the door, a confused smile on his face. “Leia, it’s good to see you,” he said. “Shouldn’t you be in classes?”

She looked him in the eye. “I’m skipping,” she told him matter-of-factly.

He gave her a surprised grin. “Well, then, come on in,” he said, motioning her into his quarters. 

Leia had first been in Jedi Skywalker’s quarters about three years ago. She’d been sad, she remembered, because she’d worried that moving into her clan bunks meant that he wouldn’t be able to do her hair any more. He’d shown her where his room was, and had told her to stop by anytime she wanted her hair done. 

His quarters were small, plain grey walls just like in her clan’s bunk. There were blinds half closed over the windows, a sofa, and a tiny kitchenette in one corner, and a door to his bedroom in the other.

“So,” he said, closing the door after her and sitting cross-legged on the sofa, “Do you want to tell me why you’re skipping your classes?”

She sat down on the floor across from him, adopting the same posture and gave him a look. “I wanted to talk to you, obviously.” 

He chuckled. “Of course. And what was it you wanted to talk about?”

Leia glanced down at her hands in her lap. “Do you ever have sad dreams?” she asked him, not sure whether to directly ask him about her family. 

“Sad dreams?” he asked, considering. “Not nightmares?”

She shook her head. 

“Yes, I guess I have.” 

“What do they mean?” she asked. “Are they visions?”

He sighed. “Well, I imagine that that depends on the dream.” He smiled sadly. “Sometimes the Force gives us dreams that mean something, but sometimes, a dream is just a dream. Maybe it’s a reflection of our day, or a memory, or something you want.”

“My dream was about my family, I think,” she admitted. “I could barely make them out. But in the dream, I wanted to be with them. Is it bad?” she asked, quietly.

A shadow crossed over his face. “No, it’s not bad.”

“It’s not?” she asked hopefully.

“No.” His expression was as serious as she’d ever seen it. “Leia, you can’t control what you dream.”

“But what if my dreams are a reflection, like you said? A reflection of what I want? Master Yoda says that Jedi should not want attachments.”

He huffed. “We all have attachments, even Master Yoda.”

Leia looked at him skeptically. She found that hard to believe. “Really?”

“Yes, really!” he said, his serious expression breaking into a slight grin. “Attachment isn’t something we can simply not have. Jedi are taught to have compassion, after all, which is a form of unconditional love. That compassion is bound to lead us towards attachments.”

Leia crossed her arms. “I don’t think that’s what that means,” she disagreed. 

He laughed slightly. “Maybe not,” he muttered. “It doesn’t matter what it’s supposed to mean,” he said, more clearly. “You don’t have to agree with me, or Master Yoda, or Master Seminaria. As you get older, you’ll have to make up your own mind. There is more than one right way to be a Jedi, Leia.”

She nodded in understanding, feeling a bit better about her dream. She still wasn’t sure if she agreed completely, but he was right that she didn’t control her dreams. It didn’t make her a bad Jedi.

He stood up with a brief smile, offering a hand to help her up. “C’mon, I’ll walk you back to your class. I have my own class that is starting soon, actually.”

“A lightsaber class?” Leia asked.

“Not quite,” he said as he led them out of his quarters. “Philosophy, actually.”

“I didn’t know you taught Jedi theology,” she remarked. She was kind of surprised that they let him. Everyone knew that Jedi Skywalker wasn’t a typical Jedi.

He chuckled, seeming to sense her reaction. “It doesn’t really seem like my thing, does it?”

She shrugged, her cheeks heating up. 

“Well, you’re right; it isn’t. But I’ve been talked into it. This is only my second class; Obi-wan is letting me cover for him while he is off-planet.” 

“Master Kenobi is letting you?” she asked, disbelieving that Jedi Skywalker would want to teach that kind of class

He hesitated for a moment, before replying. “Yes. I was talked into it by my former padawan.” 

“She’s alive?” Leia blurted without thinking.

Jedi Skywalker glanced down at her and gave a wry chuckle. “Is that a rumor? No, she’s not dead. She just left. She’s still on Coruscant, even; she works for the Naboo senatorial office.”

“Oh,” Leia said. That must be why he knows so much about Naboo. She wanted to ask why his padawan had left, but wasn’t really sure how, so instead she just followed him silently. Ezra had told them that his padawan had been kicked out, but Jedi Skywalker had just said ‘left’. 

“You’re thinking very loudly,” he commented after about a minute of walking in silence. He stopped walking, turning to look at her. “You have questions,” he stated, matter of factly. Leia nodded, feeling shy all of the sudden, even though she’d known Jedi Skywalker practically all her life. 

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, looking down at her shoes. 

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he said kindly. “I don’t mind if you ask me your questions. In fact, I’d rather you do that than continue to feed the Temple rumor mill,” he said wryly. 

Leia looked back up at him, nodding. “Okay, so your padawan-”

“Ahsoka,” he interrupted.

“So, Ahsoka,” she corrected herself, “You said she left the Order. Did she leave on her own?”

He sighed, crossing his arms. “She chose to leave, if that’s what you mean. But she wasn’t given much of a choice, if you ask me.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

He glanced down at his chrono. “We’ve got to get moving,” he said. “Ahsoka’s decision-” he sighed. “It was complicated.” He gave her a considering look. “I’ll tell you about it when you’re older.”

Leia huffed. He said she could ask questions, but apparently that really only meant one question. 

--

Padmé smiled as Anakin’s speeder landed on her apartment’s landing pad. She didn’t always wait out for him; sometimes he forgot to let her know he was on his way, and he wasn’t always able to come over at the same time, and sometimes she herself got so caught up in her work, and he’d come into her office in the apartment, gently cajoling her away from her work.

But today she waited for him outside, sighing happily as he swept her into his arms. She wound her arms around his neck, breathing in his scent as she could feel his chest expand and contract with a deep sigh of relief. 

He set her down, his flesh hand coming up to cup her cheek as he bent down to kiss her. She stood on her toes to meet him, one hand coming up to grasp his shoulder, the other winding into the curls at the nape of his neck. 

“I spoke to Leia today,” he told her with a small smile as they separated, and her hands came to rest on his shoulders, while his rested on her waist, thumbs stroking in place.

“You did?” Hearing her daughter’s name brought a smile to her face, even as a jolt of sorrow swept through her. 

He hummed in confirmation. “She dreams of us,” he said, in a voice thick with emotion. “She came to me, to ask if her dreams were bad, if they were against the Code.”

Padmé wondered what Leia saw in her dreams of them. Could she feel the sorrow that had run beneath the surface of that year on Naboo? 

“What did you tell her?” she asked.

“I told her that we can’t control our dreams any more than we can control who we love,” he said, his bright blue eyes meeting hers. 

She smiled sadly. “I’m glad she comes to you for advice. It means she trusts you.”

“She reminds me of you,” he said. “Her big brown eyes, her curiosity, her kindness,” his soft expression changed into a mischievous one as he continued, “her stubbornness.”

Padmé laughed. “Oh, my stubbornness? I think that’s something she got from you,” she insisted. 

“It’s definitely from you,” he disagreed, chuckling. “You should see the expression she makes when she disagrees with me. It’s a look I’m familiar with.”

She gave him a look, and he laughed. “There, that’s the one!” he exclaimed, laughing slightly as he leaned down to kiss her cheek. 

“How’s Luke?” he asked, changing the subject. 

“Well, I haven’t heard from Ahsoka yet, so I assume they’re still in hyperspace,” she told him. They’d left not long after Luke got home from school; Luke had been so excited to go on his first ‘solo’ mission that he’d basically dragged Ahsoka and Barriss out of the door. He’d even packed yesterday without her even having to tell him to.

Anakin looked surprised by this information. “Hyperspace?” he asked.

“To Kashyyyk, remember?” Padmé reminded him. “I thought Ahsoka talked to you about it yesterday.”

His forehead creased. “I guess I didn’t realize that she was planning on leaving so soon.”

“They’ll be fine, Anakin,” she reassured him. “It’s just a simple relief mission. Trust Ahsoka and Barriss to keep him safe.”

“I do trust Ahsoka,” he said slowly, “but are you sure you’re entirely comfortable with letting Barriss spend so much time around Luke?” 

“I’m sure,” she said simply. And she was. Barriss was troubled, she knew, much like someone else she knew, but she regretted what she’d done. And more than anything, she trusted Ahsoka’s judgement. She’d spent a lot of time with Barriss over the years, and if she thought it was safe, then Padmé would agree with her.

When Anakin still looked troubled, Padmé stepped back, towards the apartment, grabbing one of his hands to pull him after her. “Ani,” she said with a slightly exasperated smile, “I know you’re worried, but you’ll have time to worry tomorrow. Right now, we have the whole apartment to ourselves; let’s go inside.” 

He followed her inside, where it was just the two of them; the outside world and all of its troubles melted away.

--

Luke was all but vibrating with excitement as the ramp lowered to reveal the world of Kashyyyk. He glanced up at either side of him, first to Barriss on his left, and then to Ahsoka on his right. Threepio followed behind them, ready to act as translator when Ahsoka couldn’t. She smiled at him, placing a hand on his shoulder. His first mission without his mom; it was a big deal. 

At the end of the ramp waited members of the King’s council, as well as the local Chieftain, and a couple of generals. 

They bowed to the Wookie at the head of the group, and he bowed in return, growling out what Luke assumed to be a greeting. Luke wasn’t as good at languages as Ahsoka and Barriss were. 

“Thank you for welcoming us on behalf of his Majesty. Queen Layarria and Senator Amidala of Naboo send their greetings,” Ahsoka said, before turning to Luke and Barriss. “This is the Senator’s son, Luke Naberrie, and Barriss Offee, my fellow representative from Senator Amidala’s office.”

There were more greetings all around, which Luke watched, half interested. He poked at Barriss’ mind, knowing she couldn’t speak Shyriiwook, and instead of a poke back, like he might get with Ahsoka, she just turned and glanced at him, eyebrow raised. He shot her a grin, and he did finally feel an echo of a laugh through the Force. He knew Barriss liked to act like she was so serious, but she was a pretty nice person. 

“Reach out with the Force, Luke,” she instructed, leaning down slightly to whisper to him. “Try and feel the emotions of those around you. Be aware of your surroundings.” She gave him a small smile. “Maybe then you won’t feel so left out.”

“Yes, Barriss,” Luke said, dutifully. He did as she said, reaching out with his feelings, and to his surprise, rather than just the calm emotions he expected, he felt a jolt of excitement from one of the Wookies in the back.ff

Luke’s eyes widened when said Wookie swept Ahsoka up in a big hug, roaring a particularly enthusiastic greeting. 

“Oh! Chewbacca!” she said with some surprise in her voice. “It’s good to see you, too, old friend.” When he set her down, they talked back and forth for a bit, and Luke found it a bit difficult to only follow half of a conversation, though he could feel that this Chewbacca was happy to see them. 

“They certainly seem very friendly,” Threepio remarked behind them. 

“Of course they are,” Barriss said with her characteristic calmness and aura of all-knowingness that Luke knew drove Ahsoka batty. “The Wookies have long been very supportive members of the Republic. They have always strove to maintain good relations with other planets, even if that desire hasn’t always been reciprocated.”

“Mom said that Wookies are one of the most noble and loyal species that exist in the Republic,” Luke added, proud to show that he was listening when they talked about politics. 

Barriss nodded. “That’s right. That’s why it’s so important to maintain good relations with them. We can’t just neglect them because they’ve always been there; we have to show them we value them.”

“Which is why we’re bringing aid.”

“Exactly.” At this Barriss shot him another little smile, to show that she was proud of him. Luke smiled back, because he knew it was hard for her to show that kind of thing. He’d heard Ahsoka scold her for it more than once. 

Eventually, Ahsoka turned back to them. 

 “Barriss, Luke, this is Chewbacca. We go way back.” Luke smiled up at the tall Wookie. He was so tall; all the Wookies were. Even taller than Jedi Skywalker, who was pretty tall. 

“Chewie, this is Luke. He’s here to learn,” she explained vaguely. “And this is Barriss. We grew up together,” she said, giving Chewie a look. Luke knew this was her way of explaining that Barriss was also a former Jedi, without saying so outright. Being a former Jedi wasn’t bad, Luke knew, but there also weren’t a lot of them, so Barriss and Ahsoka tended not to mention it. Especially because Barriss had done bad things in the past as a Jedi. 

Chewie roared something, motioning them forward. Ahsoka turned back to them to translate. “He says that first we will meet with the King and his council, and then we will be transported to the nearby village that was hit in the recent storm.”

Luke and Barriss followed Ahsoka, Chewie, and the other Wookies through the winding path of stairs and bridges that connected the giant wroshyr trees. It was beautiful, Luke thought, as long as you didn’t look down. 

Barriss must have noticed him looking at the railing uncertainty because she grabbed his hand, shooting him a small smile. “Your mother will have my head if you fall out of one of these trees,” she told him quietly. Luke let her, even though he didn’t really think he needed his hand held now that he was eight. It was a long way down, and his mother would be extremely upset with Barriss and Ahsoka if he got hurt. 

“Are you scared of my mother?” he asked her with a grin. 

“Oh, absolutely,” she said with a solemn nod. “More than any Separatist or battle droid I’ve ever faced.” 

His grin widened, and he held tightly to Barriss’ hand for the rest of the journey to one of the highest platforms in the capital city, where the King met with his council. 

The King was even a bit taller and larger than the rest of the Wookies, dark, near black fur peppered with silver throughout. He sat in an innocuous looking chair at the head of the circular platform, and the three members of the council took their spot in chairs on either side of the King, with the other Wookies who’d accompanied them moving to stand next to those seated. That left just the four of them, Luke, Barriss, Ahsoka, and Threepio, standing facing the Wookies. Even though Luke knew that the Wookies were loyal members of the Republic, there was still something intimidating about the sight. 

Luke remembered what Barriss told him earlier, and he reached out with the Force again. This time, he felt stronger emotions. Fear, worry, permeated the council.

The King began speaking in the growls of Shyriiwook, with Threepio translating.

“His Majesty, King Rrayyywk of Kashyyyk, welcomes the ambassadors from Naboo. He thanks Naboo for their aid, and for allowing his majesty to share his concerns. He says that their representative in the Senate has had a difficult time being heard these days.” That didn’t surprise Luke. While he didn’t sit in on as many Senate sessions as he used to, now that he was in school, he still did occasionally, and not many beings had their voices heard. It was usually just a lot of yelling.

“Your Majesty,” Ahsoka began, “We are happy to carry your concerns back to Senator Amidala, but to be honest, the Senate is very much at a standstill. With Chancellor Mothma and Vice Chancellor Dul being from opposing parties, it is hard to get anything onto the floor these days.”

King Rrayyywk growled mournfully. “His Majesty understands,” Threepio dutifully translated. “It is Vice Chancellor Dul that he is worried about,” and at this, the other Wookies made noises of agreement. “Him, and the other members of the First Order. It is no secret that the First Order has begun implementing anti-alien policies on several planets. Several close enough to make the Wookies nervous. They already have enough problems from Trandosha, without having to worry about Hapes, Valgauth, and Onderon as well.”

Luke sensed surprise from Ahsoka. “Onderon? King Dendup may have been neutral before the Clone Wars, but they’ve-”

King Rrayywk interrupted with a curt growl. “His majesty says that a single victory does not heal all wounds,” translated Threepio. “Onderon may have joined the Republic, but that does not mean it is a planet of one mind. The First Order has a presence there. It may be small, but that may not matter.”

“To be honest, I think you have a right to be worried, Your Majesty,” Barriss said, speaking up. “The First Order is stirring unrest in people’s hearts. Preying on the vulnerable state of the galaxy. I, more than most, know how easy it is to be swayed when you are already conflicted.”

“His Majesty asks what can be done? Is Senator Amidala working to fight the First Order? Are the Jedi?”

Ahsoka shot a quick glance at Barriss that Luke couldn’t decipher. “At the moment, there is nothing to fight. They’re just a political party, but-”

“King Rrayywk reminds you that the Sith were just a religion.”

“That’s not the same,” Ahsoka said quickly, shaking her head. 

Luke shifted uncomfortably as some of the Wookies shook their heads and muttered. He didn’t know much about the First Order, but what he did know, he knew from his mother. It was strange to hear these Wookies, strong, proud, creatures, seem so afraid of anything. 

Ahsoka seemed like she was going to continue, when Barriss stepped in again. “Senator Amidala shares your concerns. She has always fought for the equality of all beings, starting with the Gungans on her home planet, and has always been a voice for equality in the Senate.”

King Rrayywk sighed and growled out a response. “His Majesty thanks the office of Senator Amidala for listening to his concerns, and hopes that Senator Amidala will ally with alien species against the First Order, if the time should come.”

Ahsoka and Barriss bowed their heads in acknowledgement, and Luke did as well. Then, the Chieftain of the city, howled something at them, stepping forward, and directing them back the way they came. “Chieftain Varu asks that you follow him. He will take you to your transport.”

--

Anakin was just finishing a lightsaber class with Mara Jade’s clan Dalgo when Obi-Wan commed him and asked to meet. He knew Obi-Wan had just gotten back from Corellia- he had gone on a diplomatic mission to meet with Prime Minister Snoke- and had been debriefing with the council. He dismissed the younglings and hurried to Obi-Wan’s quarters, as Anakin sensed it was urgent.

Anakin found Obi-Wan seated in meditation on the floor of the very small living space in his quarters. “What’s so important that you comm me while I’m in class?” he demanded as he walked in. He wasn’t actually upset, more worried than anything. Obi-Wan wasn’t one to make a big deal out of nothing.

“Sit down,” he said curtly, turning to look at him, a frown etched onto his face. “I’ve just learned troubling news. It will be common knowledge soon enough.” 

He complied, sitting next to him and assuming a meditation pose. He knew that, while meditation wasn’t his favorite thing, it helped Obi-Wan immensely, and he might as well go along with it.

“I’ve learned that Prime Minister Snoke has the Force. That he uses the dark side.”

Anakin jolted. “What? Another Sith? How can this be?”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “He claims not to be a Sith. And in the loosest sense, that seems to be true. It seems that this Snoke was an acolyte, of sorts, of Sidious, back when Sidious was just a Sith apprentice himself. Snoke told me that while Sidious taught him how to use the dark side, he never taught him the ways of the Sith.”

Anakin looked at Obi-Wan incredulously. “He told you this?”

“Oh, yes,” Obi-Wan sighed. “He was quite eager to tell me all about himself. Gleeful, even. He knows that we can’t touch him.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, he hasn’t done anything illegal!” Obi-Wan exclaimed in frustration. “As far as we can tell, he had no association with the Separatists. He was a private citizen before running for office. His ship building corporation builds private vessels, not warcraft, so he never had contracts with either side. He’s never done anything illegal, hasn’t been implicated in any crimes, doesn’t carry a lightsaber, and ended his association with Sidious before his illegal activity began. He simply hasn’t violated Republic law.” He shook his head, glancing down at the floor. 

Anakin heard the defeat in Obi-Wan’s voice, and felt his own heart begin to race, fear creeping into his veins. “That’s not possible. I restored balance to the Force. It’s-it’s only been eight years.” He shook his head, unsure of what to say. He didn’t know how to put into words the combination of fear and frustration that flooded him. 

Obi-Wan looked up at that, and put a hand on Anakin’s shoulder. “You did restore balance. You destroyed the Sith. One man with a few years of bare bones instruction into the dark side is not the same thing.”

Anakin shook his head. “I didn’t want my children to have to worry about this like I did. A mysterious dark sider pulling strings in the galaxy.” 

He thought of what Qui-Gon’s ghost had told him all those years ago, on Naboo. He’d never told Obi-Wan about that. He’d never told anyone about that. According to Qui-Gon, he hadn’t restored balance. Not yet. He’d said there was more to do. On Mortis, it had all been very literal, controlling the Brother and the Sister at once, holding them in balance. But in the real world, he didn’t know. 

“Maybe there’s more to bringing balance to the Force than just destroying the Sith,” Anakin mused aloud. 

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “More? And what might that ‘more’ be?”

Anakin shot him a grin. “I don’t know, Master. I suppose we’ll have to figure that out.”

[tobacconist]

ill put it here since its hard to have a proper discussion through replies

@solomonjones 

God’s will is mysterious, and we as humans cannot know it. i dont pretend to, but i can aspire to atleast attempt to understand it. regardless of your religion; either you believe: God ordains all events throughout history as part of his greater unknowable plan, and that it is He who causes the rise and fall of nations, peoples, ideologies, etc or, you believe: when good things happen to you God is blessing you but when good things happen to your enemies it is satan who blesses them. if that is the case, you do not worship the One True God. you worship an imposter deity who presumes to call itself “θεός”, or “Бог” or “ الله ”;  who is caught in deep rivalry with all the other pretenders to the throne of God Almighty.

this is what the story of the old testament is fundamentally about. even though the israelites were God’s chosen people, they were continually overtaken and oppressed by pagans. as it is written, the LORD hardened the pharaohs heart. in my opinion, it is impossible to understand the wider context of the bible (old and new testament) without understanding it in relation to pagan history and mythology (and in relation to the modern world) they didnt include, say, the odyssy in the holy canon of course because the pagan peoples being converted already knew these stories intimately. they did include the scriptures of the jews however (even though they were in many ways just as spiritually flawed as the pagans) because people were less familiar with them and the scriptures of the jews are very important to understanding the significance of the life of Jesus Christ (as he fulfilled prophecies of both the pagans and the jews)

when i say i have deep respect for the orthodox churches, please understand that i am being completely earnest. but i see it for what it is, an imperial religion of temporal power, like any other. this is going to sound quite harsh, and im writing this from an antagonistic perpective because, i presume, as someone who is quite devout; you do not need to be convinced of the deep need for religion in the world (now more than ever) that said... throughout history, kings and theologians have torn the Body of Christ, the church herself, into pieces. like DOGS they have torn the body of christ to pieces! like some horribly blasphemous tug of war. catholics pulling the head and protestants pulling the legs. baptists pulling out the intestines, the orthodox snarling and territorially guarding the heart, and the gnostics scooping up the spilled brains. and yet they are all convinced they know best, that they are the ones with grace, that they are the only true pure and correct church. this is what i mean about spiritual pride, and everyone knows it. especially when their actions and morals are in so many ways clearly at odds with what Christ actually taught. the only reason atheism exists is because of centuries of corrupt religious leaders; you can blame no one else for this godless world.

you claim the tsar held grace by his ceremonial anointment; but God hears the cry of the oppressed. thousands dead for your cause seems very reasonable compared to thousands dead for your enemies cause. but God gave people a rational mind, and although we are all misguided, he gave us wisdom enough to (eventually) see through deceit - whos author is the devil. it took centuries, but he taught us the ignorance of idolatry. the foolishness of worshipping kings. many more centuries it took until we abolished slavery. when the LORD let loose his hand and upturned the entire order of civilisation; throwing the chess pieces everywhere. fortuna’s wheel made such a global revolution; scarcely ever seen before. the nobility of the world, once so proud, learned through the bitterest chastisement the desserts of one who believes he can do no wrong.  i cannot question the judgement of the LORD, but i do wish history had been different. less bloodshed, less mess; but God knows best.

on the topic of miracles, you can believe whatever you like, my friend. jesus said blessed are those who believe what they cannot see; but in my opinion you are as naive as one who believes hindu swamis can manifest gold rings out of thin air.  all religions are guilty of this chicanery, but the spell only holds as long as people still want to believe. God gave us the power of reason, and His essence is truth. a great spiritual mystery; that (atleast for the past hundred years) Gods chosen people have been the atheists who knew him not! contemplate it! deny it if you want! there is great wisdom to be found there. not that they are blameless. the very opposite. i do not deny the horrors of communism which i assume you as an orthodox christian will know intimately well; but communist movements (and growing secularisation in general) cannot be thought surprising when one considers history. but has not the LORD advanced their science? has He not given them the power to perform many miraculous (and diabolic) deeds? babylon, rome, and america all play their part in His great plan. Blessed are the Naive, for they will not be punished as severely as those who should have known better. you can bring up some (rather weak) scientific validation of miraculous events to prove that God is on your side, but every single religion does this. and if you look at who is actually out there curing the blind, deaf and lame, who is it?

do you feel a deep spiritual calling in your heart which demands your soul to cleave unto the orthodox church? good. listen to it. that is God talking to you. that is God telling you what role you must play here in your lifetime. in some peoples hearts, that voice tells them to cleave to islam, or to buddhism, or to fucking wicca some people it tells them to ardently support nothing but science and secularism and to reject any fairytale from the past that they cannot prove. to some it tells them not to worry about any complicated theological or scientific shit that they would never understand anyway; and instead to simply follow what they know and try to be a good person by whatever ethical system they follow.

to some of us, it says we must always, always strive to be wise. that it is our sacred duty to solve every great paradox and to unveil every mystery that while the rest of the world argues in the dark, we must take our small spark of light and study deeply what we see within its radiance; and combine our little lights whenever we can. that we will be punished for our failings, as we will never be truly wise. no man can be omniscient. we will be punished for everything that we know, and for everything that we dont know, and that we must accept this. for being lukewarm and middling, for being passionate and taking a side. but we must do it anyway. that it is our duty. because ignorance is a condition which feels disgusting. that voice, it tells me that this is the task, the monumental task that all mankind undertook when we chose to eat of the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil, when we had been warned not to; to become like gods. and God himself, the LORD almighty said to us: okay.  but you will die. you will die thousands of times. thousands upon thousands, upon thousands of times. and each time, you will become just a little bit wiser until maybe, just maybe, you will become like i. my “only begotten son” who will reign with me in paradise when you finally realise what a profound responsibility it is to be God.

[weyassinebentalb]

Gaza Conflict Stokes 'Identity Crisis' for Young American Jews

Dan Kleinman does not know quite how to feel.

As a child in the New York City borough of Brooklyn, he was taught to revere Israel as the protector of Jews everywhere, the “Jewish superman who would come out of the sky to save us” when things got bad, he said.

It was a refuge in his mind when white supremacists in Charlottesville, Virginia, chanted “Jews will not replace us,” or kids in college grabbed his shirt, mimicking a “South Park” episode to steal his “Jew gold.”

But his feelings have grown muddier as he has gotten older, especially now as he watches violence unfold in Israel and Gaza. His moral compass tells him to help the Palestinians, but he cannot shake an ingrained paranoia every time he hears someone make anti-Israel statements.

“It is an identity crisis,” Kleinman, 33, said. “Very small in comparison to what is happening in Gaza and the West Bank, but it is still something very strange and weird.”

As the violence escalates in the Middle East, turmoil of a different kind is growing across the Atlantic. Many young American Jews are confronting the region’s long-standing strife in a very different context, with very different pressures, from their parents’ and grandparents’ generations.

The Israel of their lifetime has been powerful, no longer appearing to some to be under constant existential threat. The violence comes after a year when mass protests across the United States have changed how many Americans see issues of racial and social justice. The pro-Palestinian position has become more common, with prominent progressive members of Congress offering impassioned speeches in defense of the Palestinians on the House floor. At the same time, reports of anti-Semitism are rising across the country.

Divides between some American Jews and Israel’s right-wing government have been growing for more than a decade, but under the Trump administration those fractures that many hoped would heal became a crevasse. Politics in Israel have also remained fraught, as Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s long-tenured government forged allegiances with Washington. For young people who came of age during the Trump years, political polarization over the issue only deepened.

Many Jews in America remain unreservedly supportive of Israel and its government. Still, the events of recent weeks have left some families struggling to navigate both the crisis abroad and the wide-ranging response from American Jews at home. What is at stake is not just geopolitical, but deeply personal. Fractures are intensifying along lines of age, observance and partisan affiliation.

In suburban Livingston, New Jersey, Meara Ashtivker, 38, has been afraid for her father-in-law in Israel, who has a disability and is not able to rush to the stairwell to shelter when he hears the air-raid sirens. She is also scared as she sees people in her progressive circles suddenly seem anti-Israel and anti-Jewish, she said.

Ashtivker, whose husband is Israeli, said she loved and supported Israel, even when she did not always agree with the government and its actions.

“It’s really hard being an American Jew right now,” she said. “It is exhausting and scary.”

Some young, liberal Jewish activists have found common cause with Black Lives Matter, which explicitly advocates for Palestinian liberation, concerning others who see that allegiance as anti-Semitic.

The recent turmoil is the first major outbreak of violence in Israel and Gaza for which Aviva Davis, who graduated this spring from Brandeis University, has been “socially conscious.”

“I’m on a search for the truth, but what’s the truth when everyone has a different way of looking at things?” Davis said.

Alyssa Rubin, 26, who volunteers in Boston with IfNotNow, a network of Jewish activists who want to end Jewish American support for Israeli occupation, has found protesting for the Palestinian cause to be its own form of religious observance.

She said she and her 89-year-old grandfather ultimately both want the same thing, Jewish safety. But “he is really entrenched in this narrative that the only way we can be safe is by having a country,” she said, while her generation has seen that “the inequality has become more exacerbated.”

In the protest movements last summer, “a whole new wave of people were really primed to see the connection and understand racism more explicitly,” she said, “understanding the ways racism plays out here, and then looking at Israel/Palestine and realizing it is the exact same system.”

But that comparison is exactly what worries many other American Jews, who say the history of white American slaveholders is not the correct frame for viewing the Israeli government or the global Jewish experience of oppression.

At Temple Concord, a Reform synagogue in Syracuse, New York, teenager after teenager started calling Rabbi Daniel Fellman last week, wondering how to process seeing Black Lives Matter activists they marched with last summer attack Israel as “an apartheid state.”

“The reaction today is different because of what has occurred with the past year, year and a half, here,” Fellman said. “As a Jewish community, we are looking at it through slightly different eyes.”

Nearby at Sha’arei Torah Orthodox Congregation of Syracuse, teenagers were reflecting on their visits to Israel and on their family in the region.

“They see it as Hamas being a terrorist organization that is shooting missiles onto civilian areas,” Rabbi Evan Shore said. “They can’t understand why the world seems to be supporting terrorism over Israel.”

In Colorado, a high school senior at Denver Jewish Day School said he was frustrated at the lack of nuance in the public conversation. When his social media apps filled with pro-Palestinian memes last week, slogans like “From the river to the sea” and “Zionism is a call for an apartheid state,” he deactivated his accounts.

“The conversation is so unproductive, and so aggressive, that it really stresses you out,” Jonas Rosenthal, 18, said. “I don’t think that using that message is helpful for convincing the Israelis to stop bombing Gaza.”

Compared with their elders, younger American Jews are overrepresented on the ends of the religious affiliation spectrum: a higher share are secular, and a higher share are Orthodox.

Ari Hart, 39, an Orthodox rabbi in Skokie, Illinois, has accepted the fact that his Zionism makes him unwelcome in some activist spaces where he would otherwise be comfortable. College students in his congregation are awakening to that same tension, he said. “You go to a college campus and want to get involved in anti-racism or social justice work, but if you support the state of Israel, you’re the problem,” he said.

Hart sees increasing skepticism in liberal Jewish circles over Israel’s right to exist. “This is a generation who are very moved and inspired by social justice causes and want to be on the right side of justice,” Hart said. “But they’re falling into overly simplistic narratives, and narratives driven by true enemies of the Jewish people.”

Overall, younger American Jews are less attached to Israel than older generations: About half of Jewish adults under 30 describe themselves as emotionally connected to Israel, compared with about two-thirds of Jews over age 64, according to a major survey published last week by the Pew Research Center.

And though the U.S. Jewish population is 92% white, with all other races combined accounting for 8%, among Jews ages 18 to 29 that rises to 15%.

In Los Angeles, Rachel Sumekh, 29, a first-generation Iranian American Jew, sees complicated layers in the story of her own Persian family. Her mother escaped Iran on the back of a camel, traveling by night until she got to Pakistan, where she was taken in as a refugee. She then found asylum in Israel. She believes Israel has a right to self-determination, but she also found it “horrifying” to hear an Israeli ambassador suggest other Arab countries should take in Palestinians.

“That is what happened to my people and created this intergenerational trauma of losing our homeland because of hatred,” she said.

The entire situation feels too volatile and dangerous for many people to even want to discuss, especially publicly.

Violence against Jews is increasingly close to home. Last year the third-highest number of anti-Semitic incidents in the United States were recorded since the Anti-Defamation League began cataloging them in 1979, according to a report released by the civil rights group last month. The ADL recorded more than 1,200 incidents of anti-Semitic harassment in 2020, a 10% increase from the previous year. In Los Angeles, the police are investigating a sprawling attack on sidewalk diners at a sushi restaurant Tuesday as an anti-Semitic hate crime.

Outside Cleveland, Jennifer Kaplan, 39, who grew up in a modern Orthodox family and who considers herself a centrist Democrat and a Zionist, remembered studying abroad at Hebrew University in 2002, and being in the cafeteria minutes before it was bombed. Now she wondered how the Trump era had affected her inclination to see the humanity in others, and she wished her young children were a bit older so she could talk with them about what is happening.

“I want them to understand that this is a really complicated situation, and they should question things,” she said. “I want them to understand that this isn’t just a, I don’t know, I guess, utopia of Jewish religion.”

Esther Katz, the performing arts director at the Jewish Community Center in Omaha, Nebraska, has spent significant time in Israel. She also attended Black Lives Matter protests in Omaha last summer and has signs supporting the movement in the windows of her home.

She has watched with a sense of betrayal as some of her allies in that movement have posted online about their apparently unequivocal support for the Palestinians, and compared Israel to Nazi Germany. “I’ve had some really tough conversations,” said Katz, a Conservative Jew. “They’re not seeing the facts, they’re just reading the propaganda.”

Her three children, who range in age from 7 to 13, are now wary of a country that is for Katz one of the most important places in the world. “They’re like, ‘I don’t understand why anyone would want to live in Israel, or even visit,’” she said. “That breaks my heart.”

This article originally appeared in The New York Times.

© 2021 The New York Times Company 

source https://www.techno-90.com/2021/05/gaza-conflict-stokes-identity-crisis.html

[izdamann]

“Before Night Falls” by Reinaldo Arenas

“Before Night Falls” is a inspirational story of resiliency against themes of oppression, nationalism and persecution offered by author Reinaldo Arenas. Arenas, a man determined to expose the atrocities of the continuous oppressive generational Cuban dictatorship through the events of his life from childhood through early adulthood.  The story sets the tone of truth by a writer who uses his talents for exposition.  Reinaldo Arenas’ “Before Night Falls” details painful insightful stories of life in a volatile country.

When critically analyzing  and understanding “Before Night Falls”  I believe it is important for a brief description of Cuba’s atmosphere while Reinaldo Arenas was a citizen there to understand the gravity of the literature. �� At the time Cuba’s long standing dictator Fulcencio Batista was a corrupt leader whose greed would lead to his demise.  Fulgencio Batista would solely benefit from establishing the financial assets of outside countries within Cuba that the people of Cuba would not benefit from.  In addition to the corrupt financial practices, the government's oppressive practices allowed for brutally physical policing tactics against its own citizens.   In these accounts of events told from Arenas’ point of view he starts out by detailing how conditions under Batista’s dictatorship were repressive, in the section titled “Politics” Arenas states, “After the death of Chibás, things got easier for the political crooks who always managed, one way or another, to control the island of Cuba. In 1952 a military coup led by Fulgencio Batista brought him to power again, and it became impossible for the Orthodox Party, or any other party, to win elections. Batista’s dictatorship was repressive from the start, not only politically but morally as well” which is the cause for the growing tensions which ultimately led to the revolution of 1959.   Reinaldo Arenas continues to describe the oppressive tactics of the government while under the Batista regime, “One day we were preparing ñame [a tropical tuber] cuttings to be planted on the farm, when we saw a couple of country policemen coming our way.  That filled us with dread; the police never made social calls”.  The cuban dictator while in power would continue to satisfy his greed for money while the people of Cuba would starve because of the lack of opportunities.  Arenas goes on to state, “While Batista’s dictatorship continued to oppress the country, the economy deteriorated, at least for poor peasants such as my grandfather or my uncles, who could seldom find work at the sugar mills as cane cutters.” “Things got so bad that my grandfather decided to sell the farm, about a hundred acres, and move to Holguín, where he planned to open a small vegetable and fruit stand”.  The oppressive financially unprosperous conditions of life on the island would force families to make impossible decisions.  Years of brutality against its own people and the unprosperous condition of the country paved the way for growing tensions by the Cuban people.  Those tensions would result in an effort to forcefully remove Fulgencio Batista from power and relieve Cuba of his corrupt reign.  That effort would be realized as “The Cuban Revolution of 1959” led by an ambitious Fidel Castro.  

Fidel Castro would begin his revolution with promises of a new government.  Initially Castro would attempt to forcefully remove Batista from power only to fail.  It would be his third attempt that would prove successful.  Leading an army of guerilla soldiers, the citizens of Cuba who were camped in the mountains of Cuba, Castro would systematically defeat Batista military forces culminating in the overtaking of Havana the Cuban capital.  Through the revolution of 1959 the cuban people liberated themselves from the oppressive clutches of one dictator in Fulgencio Bautista only to pave the way for another future oppressive dictator in Fidel Castro.  In the section “The Revolution”, Arenas questions, “Why is it that we, the great majority of the people, and even the intellectuals, did not realize that this was the beginning of a new dictatorship, even bloodier than the previous one?”  Initially, One can contend that Castro’s policies could be considered as initially operating solely on behalf of the cuban people.  Under his government citizens had substantially more opportunities for  employment.  The illiteracy rate dropped significantly.  Healthcare was provided to the citizens.  Also, Cuba’s electrical grid was fully modernized.  Cubans received both free healthcare and free education.  All initial improvements from the clutches of Batista.  On the other hand there was an extremely deep price to pay for these adminities, a price not all citizens would be willing to pay.  Progressively cubans would concede civil rights afforded in other countries as their status as the first communist nation in the western hemisphere was confirmed.  Fidel Castro would eliminate the government election process leading him to remain in power for the next nearly sixty years.  Cubans would no longer have the right to own their own businesses.  Cubans who would dare protest the government publicly would flirt with the possibility of being at the very least brutally beaten or even possibly killed.  The free press became a propaganda tool for the government.  Castro may have started with good intentions but like so many before him he would fall to the lust of power.

So when I begin to take into consideration how Cuba’s atmosphere influenced Reinaldo Arenas body of work I can begin to take in the full gravity of his pain.  The overall tone of the feels like a man who knows he's near the end seeking resolution.  Resolution for the people of his country to be liberated from a tyrannical oppressor.  He states in the introduction of the book, the section titled, “The End”, “One day, eventually, the people will overthrow Castro, and the least they will do is bring to justice those who collaborated with the tyrant with impunity”.  He goes on to state, “The ones who promote dialogue with Castro, well aware that Castro will never give up his power peacefully and that a truce and economic assistance are what he needs to strengthen his position, are as guilty as his own henchmen who torture and murder people”.  Going further, he’s holding other more influential Cubans who live outside the country responsible as so they're outside of the reach of the dictator they should be more outspoken as to the conditions the vulnerable in Cuba are suffering, “Those who are not living in Cuba are perhaps even more to blame, because inside Cuba you exist under absolute terror, but outside you can at least maintain a modicum of political integrity. All the pretentious people who dream of appearing on TV shaking Fidel Castro’s hand and of becoming politically relevant should have more realistic dreams: they should envision the rope from which they will swing in Havana’s Central Park, because the Cuban people, being generous, will hang them when the moment of truth comes”.  The opening of the book comes to a conclusion on this thought through this statement, “The only consolation left for them will be to have avoided bloodshed.  Perhaps such an act of justice would be a good lesson for the future, because as a country Cuba has produced scoundrels, criminals, demagogues, and cowards in numbers disproportionate to its population”.  

In what I have read so far in chapters one through twelve I believe the cries for help are resoundingly clear in this compelling story of resiliency. Arenas details how during his time in Cuba the government was increasingly and gradually oppressive from one brutal dictator in Batista to another dictator in Castro.  Under both dictators, the Cuban people were persecuted for various reasons and various views deemed necessary by the government.  As stated earlier, publicly protesting the government would definitely have it’s price.  Freedom of speech should be a protected right of the people.  Although change is slow it starts out with people voicing their concerns. As government exists for service to the people, citizens should be able to speak out against its governmental institutions at the very moment they feel the government is not operating in the best interest of the people.   The function of free speech is to ensure the balance of governmental power remains in effect.  Another reason the government would use to persecute its citizens would be one's sexual orientation.  Our author, Reinaldo Arenas was a homosexual and he used his talent as a writer to protest to the government through his literature.   Knowing that the power of his literature would be able to reach around the world, Arenas would express his dissidence with the Cuban government through his literature documenting his experiences for global consumption.  This tale at the time was Arenas’ way of alerting to the world the conditions of the Cuban country and in a way is calling out for help from an oppressive dictator.   The Cuban government didn't take too well to the perceived truths revealed in Arenas’s work.  Arenas’s collection of literature protesting Cuba’s conditions along with his sexual orientation would eventually lead to his exile from the country he so dearly adored in his childhood.  

[creepingsharia]

“32,000 Christians Butchered to Death”: Muslim Persecution of Christians, May 2020

by Raymond Ibrahim

The following are among the abuses Muslims inflicted on Christians throughout the month of May 2020:

The Slaughter of Christians

Nigeria: From January 2020 to mid-May 2020, Muslim terrorists massacred at least 620 Christians (470 by Fulani herdsmen and 150 by Boko Haram). According to a May 14 report:

Militant Fulani Herdsmen and Boko Haram … have intensified their anti-Christian violence … with hacking to death in the past four months and half of 2020 of no fewer than 620 defenseless Christians, and wanton burning or destruction of their centers of worship and learning. The atrocities against Christians have gone unchecked and risen to alarming apogee with the country’s security forces and concerned political actors looking the other way or colluding with the Jihadists. Houses burnt or destroyed during the period are in their hundreds; likewise dozens of Christian worship and learning centers.

The report further states that, since 2009, “not less than 32,000 Christians have been butchered to death by the country’s main Jihadists.”

Earlier this year, Christian Solidarity International issued a “Genocide Warning for Christians in Nigeria,” in response to the “rising tide of violence directed against Nigerian Christians and others classified as ‘infidels’ by Islamist militants…” More recently, in a May statement, the Christian Rights Agenda, another human rights group, expressed concern for “the seeming silence of Nigeria’s President, Gen. Muhammadu Buhari, who as the commander-in-chief of the armed forces has not only failed to protect the Christian communities but has remained silent over these killings. To date, no Fulani herdsmen have been arrested and prosecuted over the killings, a development that has helped to embolden them.” It is worth noting that Buhari himself is a Fulani Muslim.

Separately, the Muslim man who murdered Michael Nnadi, an 18-year-old seminarian at the Good Shepherd Seminary, confessed from his jail cell that he did so because the youth “continued preaching the gospel of Jesus Christ” to his captors. According to the May 3 report, “the first day Nnadi was kidnapped … he did not allow [Mustapha Mohammed, his murderer] to have peace” due to his relentless preaching of the Gospel. Mohammed “did not like the confidence displayed by the young man and decided to send him to an early grave.”

Democratic Republic of Congo: Muslim fighters from the Allied Democratic Forces, which earlier pledged allegiance to the Islamic State (ISIS), murdered at least 17 people, possibly many more, in the Christian-majority (95%) African nation. “They fired several shots in the air,” a local said. “When the population was fleeing, they captured some people and cut them up with machetes.” In late 2019, the same group murdered a pastor after he refused to stop preaching and convert to Islam.

Attacks on Christian Churches, Cemeteries, and Crosses

Greece: Muslim migrants ransacked and transformed a church into their personal toilet. This public restroom was once the St. Catherine Church in Moria, a small town on the island of Lesvos, which has been flooded with migrants who arrived via Turkey. “The smell inside is unbearable,” said a local. “[T]he metropolitan of Mytilene is aware of the situation in the area, nevertheless, he does not wish to deal with it for his own reasons.” According to the report:

This is only the latest incident … [I]t has become extremely common for Greek Orthodox Churches to be vandalised and attacked by illegal immigrants on Lesvos….

As a deeply religious society, these attacks on churches are shocking to the Greek people and calls to question whether these illegal immigrants seeking a new life in Europe are willing to integrate and conform to the norms and values of their new countries.

These continued attacks have ultimately seen the people of Lesvos, who were nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize in 2016, become increasingly frustrated by the unresolved situation that has restricted and changed their lives as they no longer feel safe on their once near crime-free island.

Other incidents on Lesvos include “African immigrants ridiculing and coughing on police in the midst of the coronavirus pandemic, and thousands of olives trees being destroyed.”

St. Catherine’s in Lesvos, now a Muslim toilet.

Turkey: On May 8, a man tried to torch a church in Istanbul; the church had been attacked in the previous years, sometimes with hate-filled graffiti. When police detained the arsonist, he said “I burned it because they [Christians] brought the coronavirus [onto Turkey].” Discussing this incident, another report said that “Minorities in Turkey, such as Armenians, Rums and Syriacs [all Christians], as well as their places of worship, are occasionally targeted in hate attacks.”

Two weeks later, on May 22, in broad daylight, a man climbed the fence of a historic Armenian church in Istanbul and proceeded to yank off its metal cross and hurl it to the ground, as captured on surveillance footage. The man, who looks more like a Westernized “hipster” than an ardent Islamist, walks up to and stares at the cross for a while — he even looks at and strikes a pose for the security camera — before attacking the crucifix.

Pakistan: After Friday prayers on May 8, an armed Muslim mob shouting “anti-Christian slogans” attacked and tried to set fire to the Trinity Pentecostal Church in Hakeem Pura. Built 22 years ago, the church was desecrated, and a large cross and part of a wall broken. The Muslim man behind the attack had sold land to the growing church a year earlier, and now wanted it back. A Christian eyewitness said that the mob, “after attacking the walls and the cross, challenging anyone who dare oppose them, fled… Not only was the cross broken, but our hearts were crushed too.”

Separately, Muslim “land grabbers” seized, desecrated, and ploughed over the graves of a century-old Christian cemetery with a tractor. According to the May 22 report:

The Christian community there reportedly protested against the violation and tried to stop the vandalism. However, they were allegedly threatened with guns… [A]ll graves that were destroyed had crosses fixed on the top… [S]ome of the houses occupied by the Christians were demolished and people were forced to flee from their homes. Amid widespread discrimination against the Christian community in Pakistan, the properties owned by the minorities are often subjected to injustice including land grabbing and being the target of criminals. Moreover, the economic disparities and religious bias in Pakistan’s judiciary have increased the struggles Christians face to recover the lost land.

Serbia: On Sunday, May 31, two Muslim migrants entered the St. Alexander Nevsky Church in Belgrade during service and robbed several of the mostly elderly congregants. “There were two of them. They broke into the church during the liturgy, which was in progress, and they stole two purses along with three mobile phones,” a church leader said, adding:

Upon entering the temple, they split up on two sides, and after the people saw what was happening, they managed to catch one of them and take away his mobile phones and the money he stole. The other managed to escape. He took two purses, in one there were 3,500 dinars, while in the other there were 18,000, which was the entire pension of one woman. We handed that young man over to the police, while the other managed to escape. This is an insult. Isn’t anything sacred to people, such as the liturgy? Terrible.

Egypt: On May 30, 2020 — two days before President Trump recognized Global Coptic Day — Egyptian authorities demolished the only Coptic church in village of Koum al-Farag, even though it had stood for 15 years and served 3,000 Christians. According to the report:

The destruction of the church was a punishment for the ‘crime’ of building rooms for Sunday school…. When the work began, some extremist Muslims began to attack Christians.

A separate report on this incident relates:

According to an ancient Islamic tradition, or common law, churches are prevented from being formally recognised or displaying any Christian symbols if a mosque is built next to them.

The authorities decided to solve this issue by demolishing the church, which took a tractor “six long hours,” a Copt recalled:

The decision was not welcomed by the Christians in the village, so they protested by appearing at the site in possession of the documents. However, the police and some radicals began to insult and assault Christians, including women and children. The church leader received so many punches in the face and chest that he passed out.

In a separate attack in the early hours of May 16, “an air conditioning technician threw a Molotov cocktail inside the Virgin Mary Church in Alexandria.” According to the report:

Security camera footage led to his apprehension. Fortunately, no one was injured in this attack. Predictably, however, the prosecutors appear to be [pursuing] an acquittal on the claim that the perpetrator of the religious hate crime is also mentally ill. Based on precedent, it is extremely unlikely that this perpetrator will face any consequences for his attempt to torch a church.

Mozambique: Islamic terrorists attacked a monastery. The four monks residing in it managed to hide and emerge unscathed. However, the hospital they were building for a nearby village was destroyed by the armed Muslims. According to the May 18 report:

Little is known about the insurgents, and until recently there were doubts they were actually islamists, but they have claimed to be fighting for the imposition of Sharia law in the North of Mozambique…. The attack on the monastery, which included the destruction of a hospital that the monks were building in the village, is the second most serious attack against a Christian target since the troubles began. Last month a Catholic mission was also attacked, although, as here, nobody was killed. Other communities have not been so lucky, as the insurgents have left a trail of death and destruction behind them in the towns and villages they attack.

Nigeria: On May 7, a helicopter bombed and destroyed a church. The building was empty at the time; no casualties were reported. According to a local leader,

The helicopter used to hover around the area, dropping some things. We don’t know what they have been dropping but yesterday in the afternoon, the helicopter came and dropped a bomb … [The] Assembly of God church was destroyed including a nearby building…. Hours after the incident, a group of people numbering about 100 pass through the village carrying guns. Some were trekking while others rode on motorcycles. One of them was carrying a flag which is not a Nigerian flag; one other person was making some incantations in Arabic… People have fled the village… The question is who was in the helicopter dropping bomb?… We are very concerned … If it was a mistake by security agencies, they should come out and explain so as to allay the fears of the community.

Algeria: Four Muslim guards responsible for protecting a church vandalized and overturned its statue of the Virgin Mary. According to the report,

[T]he chapel of Santa Cruz built in stones extracted from the mountain of Murdjadjo where it is perched, was the object of an attempted theft… Four looters allegedly destroyed the statue of the Virgin Mary by attempting to steal it. They have even destroyed other holy monuments in their path….

It was later found, however, that the chapel’s four hired guards were themselves the “looters” responsible for the desecration. The report continues:

In addition, the Christian community in Algeria denounces… the intimidation which the faithful are subject to. Many Christians have denounced the series of closings of churches in the national territory. Several evangelical associations and organizations have called for an end to “the increasing pressure and intimidation from the Algerian government.”

Iran: On Sunday, May 17, a Christian cemetery was set ablaze, just two days after the tomb of the biblical Esther and Mordecai was also set on fire on the 72nd anniversary of the creation of the State of Israel. Damage at the tomb — a holy site shared by Jews and Christians — was reportedly minimal. Few other details concerning the burned Christian cemetery aside from video footage showing smoke billowing over its walls are available. A Hindu temple was also reportedly set on fire in May.

France: Unknown vandals cut down an iconic iron cross that had stood on the summit of Pic Saint-Loup since 1911 and was visible for miles around. According to the May 14 report,

While Europe has experienced a growing number of acts of vandalism and profanation of Christian sites, the greatest number of such acts have occurred in France, where churches, schools, cemeteries, and monuments “are being vandalized, desecrated, and burned at an average rate of three per day,” according to reports drawing from government statistics.

Although the identity of the vandals responsible for this latest outrage is unknown, it appears that Western European nations that have large Muslim migrant populations are seeing a disproportionate rise in attacks on churches and Christian symbols. According to a 2017 study on France — which has the largest Muslim population in Europe — “Islamist extremist attacks on Christians” rose by 38%, going from 273 attacks in 2015 to 376 in 2016; the majority occurred during Christmas season and “many of the attacks took place in churches and other places of worship.” Similarly, around Christmas 2016, in a German region where more than a million Muslims reside, some 50 public Christian statues (including those of Jesus) were beheaded and crucifixes broken.

Abduction, Rape, and Forced Conversion of Christian Women

Nigeria: Between March 23 and April 30, six young Christian girls and one older married woman were kidnapped. “We are saddened to report to you the battles we have been fighting even amidst the lockdown,” the Hausa Christians Foundation reported on May 4, adding that it “has been working on the following tragic incidences of abduction and forceful Islamization, despite the fact that the lockdown has limited our efforts.” The statement continues:

The usual practice is that these girls will be forced into marriage and perpetually be abused sexually, physical and emotionally. We are doing our best to rescue these precious lives but our efforts have been truncated by the current government imposed lockdown that has put everything on hold…. The simple reason for the injustice and the persecution we have been subjected to… is because of our faith in Christ Jesus.

Two of the young girls have since been rescued.

Pakistan: Another young Christian girl was kidnapped. According to a May 2 report,

On Sunday, April 26, a 14-year-old Christian girl … was abducted by a group of armed Muslim men… [T]he Christian girl’s family has filed a police report and is begging police to recover their relative…. Myra Shehbaz was abducted by a group of Muslim men led by Muhammad Naqash. Eye witnesses claim that Myra was attacked while she was traveling to her workplace as a domestic worker on Sunday afternoon…. Myra’s abductors forced her into a car and Myra tried to resist…. [The] abductors were armed and fired several shots into the air…. [The girl’s mother] fears her daughter will be raped, forcefully converted is [sic] Islam, or even killed…. [A]n estimated 1,000 women and girls from Pakistan’s Hindu and Christian community are assaulted, abducted, forcefully married to their captor, and forcibly converted to Islam every year.

Egypt: In a May 22 report, Coptic Solidarity, a human rights organization focused on the plight of Egypt’s Christians, made the following remarks:

The indigenous Coptic Christians of Egypt continue to experience increasing persecution, by the government and society…. To illustrate, at least five Coptic women, including some minors, have reportedly been kidnapped or disappeared in just the last few weeks, and Egyptian state security has made no concerted effort to recover them…. Ranya Abd al-Masih, a Coptic wife and mother of three from a town just north of the capital, Cairo… remains hidden despite protests, including from the region’s church, which laments “the total lack of reaction by the authorities.”

Hate for and Abuse of Christians

Austria: A local newspaper reported:

A graffiti that rightly causes a lot of agitation. The lettering “Christians must die” can be seen at the Traisen-Markt train station. Above it, in the same style, the words “Allach Akkbar” [sic]. The removal of the graffiti has already begun and will cost about 500 Euros.

Uganda: A Muslim father burned his daughter for converting to Christianity. While traveling with her father, a sheikh (respected elder) of the Muslim community, Rehema Kyomuhendo, 24, heard the gospel and secretly converted. On the night of May 4, while she and her father were staying at her aunt’s home, she called a Christian associate: “As she was sharing Christ with me, I was so overjoyed,” Rehema later explained, “and my father heard my joy and woke up, came from his bedroom furiously and started beating me up with blows, slaps and kicks.” He also shouted that he was “going to kill her.” He broke a gas container, lit the pieces with the unspilt fuel, and began to burn his daughter. Her cries awakened her aunt, who protected her from the sheikh. Last reported, Rehema was expected to need more than a month of hospitalization due to “serious burns on her leg, stomach, rib area, near her neck and on part of her back.” No one has “reported the assault to police for fear that her father might try kill her.”

Pakistan: In another example of abuse of Christians in connection to COVID-19, “an Islamic cleric claims his organization is using COVID-19 food aid to convert non-Muslims to Islam,” according to a May 8 report. Speaking on Pakistani television, the cleric boasted of how when a destitute Christian man came for aid, the “staff of the organization offered him conversion against food which he accepted.” The man was subsequently renamed Muhammad Ramadan, signifying his conversion had occurred during the Muslim holy month. The cleric had added that Muhammad was then fasting (which is ironic considering hunger is what prompted him to convert in the first place).

About this Series

The persecution of Christians in the Islamic world has become endemic.  Accordingly, “Muslim Persecution of Christians” was developed in 2011 to collate some—by no means all—of the instances of persecution that occur or are reported each month. It serves two purposes:

1)          To document that which the mainstream media does not: the habitual, if not chronic, persecution of Christians.

2)          To show that such persecution is not “random,” but systematic and interrelated—that it is rooted in a worldview inspired by Islamic Sharia.

Accordingly, whatever the anecdote of persecution, it typically fits under a specific theme, including hatred for churches and other Christian symbols; apostasy, blasphemy, and proselytism laws that criminalize and sometimes punish with death those who “offend” Islam; sexual abuse of Christian women; forced conversions to Islam;  theft and plunder in lieu of jizya (financial tribute expected from non-Muslims); overall expectations for Christians to behave like cowed dhimmis, or second-class, “tolerated” citizens; and simple violence and murder. Sometimes it is a combination thereof.

Because these accounts of persecution span different ethnicities, languages, and locales—from Morocco in the West, to Indonesia in the East—it should be clear that one thing alone binds them: Islam—whether the strict application of Islamic Sharia law, or the supremacist culture born of it.

Previous Reports:

[pannazsinihkvetak]

The Heavy Burdens of Time   fic

The golden gilt sun of early autumn hung in the clear blue sky overhead a dappled forest bright with splashes of red, yellow, and orange as leaves quaked cheerily in a light breeze.

In the light of the autumn afternoon Belarus crawled around on her gloved hands and stocking clad knees looking for mushrooms. It was one of her favorite pastimes every fall and nothing could dissuade her from it. Her light pink dress flowed behind her and her blue ribbon fluttered in the breeze as she continued to look, completely absorbed in her task.

The sight made Lithuania catch his breath and he blessed his good luck in deciding to wander Poland, and now Belarus’s woods after that meeting with him was done. Normally a silent forest walker, distraction made him careless and as he edged closer he stepped on a number of dry twigs.

She stood up, her eyes rapidly looking for the source of that noise and her hands gathering into fists as she clutched the folds of her dress. He stopped ad she spotted him.

“Tch, and what the fuck are you doing here?” she asked, more annoyed than anything else and clearly sounding so. But she was not totally displeased and this bothered her even more. She just couldn't understand it.

“Ah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was just taking a walk. It’s a nice day after all. I didn’t expect to see you here. “

“Liar,” she said harshly. “You know this is my part of the woods, yet you wandered in, you idiot. Like a fucking pervert or stalker, I bet you’re both.” She crossed her arms and glared at him.

“Well I suppose I could leave you alone if you wish.” He was rather crestfallen though and it showed on his already melancholy face. Really he would rather stay with her.

At the sight she felt something stir within her heart, something she could not name, place, or understand, but it made her say, “Öh no you don’t you dick sucker. As punishment now you have to help me as long as I wish.” She stomped her foot upon the dirt.

‘O what a wonderful punishment’, he thought. He tried not to look too happy as he said aloud, “”I guess since this is your home I really have no choice”

”That’s right, you don’t you asswipe. Now get down and help me pick mushrooms.”

Now he was even more delighted. He loved picking mushrooms and so he nodded resolutely, “understood” and did just that.

Several hours of this passed, mostly in silence but a few times they spoke amongst themselves.. Industrious and focused they gathered many mushrooms and as they gathered up their quary Belarus lifted her head up and looked at him.

Her thoughts wandered across years and centuries and she remembered a similar scene ages ago when both were younger in the days of the duchy. Life was harsher then, but things between them, though always complex, were also so much more simple and warm.

She remembered is wolf brown hair and forest green eyes, present still but also so far away and how she puzzled at yet permitted his pagan ways and he did the same for her orthodox faith, and so they lived in tandem.

She remembered how that slowly began to change when the commonwealth was formed and Poland arrived. For a moment it felt like it was happening all over once more.

A small slight pale girl feeling her breath and fists tighten as one by one, no love from them, her nobility flocked to the more fashionable, more politically advantageous Poland, with only a few hold outs and the simple peasantry keeping her in their hearts.

Of course none of this was forced, but perhaps that made the pain even more terrible and of course that didn’t mean there was no pressure. So it was simply easier to speak Polish during the rare times she was summoned to court, to dress in Polish ways while there too, and even to become Catholic like Poland as well. It was easier to bow her head down and take what was given to her. But still these were not her ways and that was one of the things that kept her alive, the knowledge of that.

She also remembered Lithuania and as she did her heart was burdened with pain and anguish. She could almost see before her eyes how it seemed so suddenly he no longer spent as much time with her and even seemed to forget his old self, taking up Poland's ways more and more. Her companion was gone, he abandoned her, and it was then in her rage and resentment she realized how dear he was to her.

It was all Poland's fault, and yet even that was not the end of it, Poland would not let it end here, since even decades later, his fight with her brother over her and ripping her and her people in two was still fresh in her mind. Russia was at fault here too, but of course she refused to see this. Instead she chose to remember how Poland tried to take what little she even had, stealing her language and her people from her western lands, always wanting more and more, and using his own suffering to justify it. And Lithuania, had he even noticed or cared? She thought not, after all he had been so willing to discard her for politics long ago.

Her thoughts continued to swirl in her mind and in the physical world her hands began to shake.

Lithuania noticed, and with concern in his eyes he shook her gently, “”Natasha, Natasha, are you alright?”

Her eyes darted up to rest on him, and gripping his hand harshly she blurted out, “’I fucking hate you.”

Lithuania stared at her, surprised but not really hurt or dismayed. “Did you have a bad thought or memory?” He hadn’t done anything, so it couldn’t be that.

She looked at his face, full of concern and notice the lack of fear or anger in his voice and body. She had no idea what to do. She half wanted to run off yelling, but merely sat there instead and looked down at her still clenched fists. She had no idea what to say so she merely said, “Shut up.” Then she crawled on her hands and knees over to him and drew closer.

Lithuania's heart began beating rapidly and he felt himself grow hot, but he tried to remain calm, since he had no idea what she might do. Even that was a little exciting though..

Then frowning, she took his face between her hands and drew it even closer. She looked right into his eyes for moment, then let his face go and began to rub the long sides of his hair between her hands. they were so soft and silky, how nice and calming it was to feel them.

Lithuania merely smiled, for he was rather used to this and found it endearing. “Do you feel better?” he asked.

“None of your fucking business,”she said, but her voice and face were a good deal calmer and more tranquil and finally she sighted softly, her eyes growing more serene.

Notes:

Mushroom hunting is widely done in Belarus, in fact one year many posted instagrams of the many huge loads they collected. I headcanon Belarus as a nature loving girl, who isn't worried about getting dirty.

During the Duchy of Lithuania the country was pagan, only becoming Catholic after uniting with Poland. However there were many Orthodox from the acquisition of Polotsk who I headcanon Belarus as. During this time the Ruthenian culture also became influential and politically powerful, with Ruthenian being used in court and official documents.

During the Polish Lithuanian Commonweath Polish superseded Ruthenian as the language and culture of influence. Many Baltic and Ruthenian nobility willingly became Polanized due to the social and political benefits. However some Ruthenian nobles resisted this and kept their Slavic identity and Orthodox faith, as did much of the Ruthenian peasantry. Some of these peasants, especially those in modern day Ukraine turned to the Cossaks as they undertook violent resistance to Polish influence. During the Second Polish Republic from 1918 to 1939 and after the Polish Soviet war' Polonization became more coercive with authorities closing Belarusian schools (before 1921 there were 514 and in 1928 only 69. All were gone by 1939) and outlawing use of Belarusian in state institutions, and refusing to let priests hold mass in Belarusian. Some even saw Belarusian language as lesser than that of Polish denigrating it as shabby and simple. "They want to switch from the rich Polish Language to one the people themselves call simple and shabby" - 1921 Assimilation was seen by some to be key to unifying the state.

Polish official Leopold Skulski - "I assure you that in some ten years you won't be able to find a single Belarusian (in West Belarus). West Belarus was seen as a land needed for colonization.

During the republic various protests were held by Belarusian partisans against these measures, to no avail

During the Polish Soviet war Belarus was divided between Poland getting west Belarus and the USSR getting the east with no say from the Belarusians.

[bast38]

Fearless Defender of Orthodoxy and Traditional Morality Biography of the newly-reposed Archimandrite Lazarus (Abashidze), written by his spiritual children Our ever-memorable spiritual father and mentor, Archimandrite Lazarus (born Michael Petrovich Abashidze-Desimon), was born on July 23, 1959, in the town of Gagra in Abkhazia, one of the most beautiful corners of the Caucasus. He graduated from the Russian school of Gagra and studied architecture at one of Moscow institutes. According to the future archimandrite, he had a vague feeling of dissatisfaction from his childhood. As a student of an institute of higher education in Moscow, Michael Abashidze became distrustful of both the existing regime and the general atmosphere of falsehood and hypocrisy in the world, which stirred up his protest. Since his family was not religious, Michael was still not baptized. His inner dissatisfaction and protest caused him to join the hippie youth movement. Several years later he found a copy of the Bible and the Orthodox Catechism in his friend’s house. It left an indelible impression on him, the chapter from the Book of Isaiah about the Passion of Christ in particular. From that moment he took a profound interest in Orthodoxy and wanted to comprehend its essence. On March 11, 1984, the feast of the Triumph of Orthodoxy, as a result of a conscious decision and after a thorough preparation, he was baptized at the age of twenty-four at the Church of the Holy Prophet Elias in Obidenny Lane in Moscow. On March 20, 1984, Michael left for Betania Monastery, where he stayed until 1997. Over the period of his novitiate he was noted for his discipline and fear of God, zeal in performing obediences, and love of prayer. From 1987 till January 14, 1997, Fr. Lazarus was the abbot of Betania Monastery. In spring of 1991, Catholicos-Patriarch Ilia II of All Georgia elevated him to the rank of archimandrite. Seeking a more solitary life, from the autumn of 1998 Fr. Lazarus and his spiritual children lived on a mountain close to the village of Tabaruki, where he established the Resurrection Monastery of Tabaruki. In 1999, he admitted the third novice to his brotherhood. Under his direction the community built the new monastery from scratch. Fr. Lazarus constructed two churches and two monastic cells with his own hands (only his novices and, in extreme cases, the monastery’s closest friends assisted him in such painstaking work as pouring concrete). He combined these labor-intensive efforts with writing books and painting icons. In May 2016, Fr. Lazarus was diagnosed with diffuse pleural mesothelioma. The archimandrite refused to have a surgery and in fact any form of treatment. Occasionally he resorted to folk medicine and drank water from St. Nino’s healing well, after which he felt better every time. The doctors were surprised by the fact that without an operation or a necessary course of chemotherapy the illness didn’t grow progressively worse as rapidly as usual in these cases. Without surgical intervention, patients can live only up to seven or nine months with this condition. And it took them a year and a half to persuade Fr. Lazarus to undergo chemotherapy. Following five courses of chemotherapy the doctors began radiation therapy. Fr. Lazarus grew weak, remained in bed for almost three weeks, and took Communion in his cell. In the last two weeks of his life he suffered from chronic chest pain and hypoxia and constantly used oxygen pillows. The people who were close to the archimandrite worried about him and did what they could to help him. On August 14, 2018, his condition deteriorated and Fr. Lazarus was taken to the department of palliative care of Tbilisi New Vision University’s Hospital, where he received the necessary care and his condition seemed to have slightly improved. On August 16, the spiritual father even took some food. His friends hoped that his state of health would improve and decided to stay in hospital till Monday. But at ten minutes past seven on Friday, August 17, 2018, Fr. Lazarus reposed in the Lord. His death is an irretrievable loss and distress not only for his parishioners and spiritual children, but for all Orthodox believers as well. Through the prayers of our wonderful father Lazarus, Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on us!