#instead of something their prophet actually taught

[eydilily]

I absolutely love your art and how detailed it is! If you don't mind me asking, how do you draw/break down faces? Your style is like exactly what I'm hoping to get close to when I draw them

OKAY so huge disclaimer. im self taught and i dont know what im doing most of the time! frankly i have a long way to go with shape language and character design so i will always suggest people to go to actual professionals and masters LMAO.

i am NOT qualified whatsoever, but, i tried to breakdown my thought process in how i currently draw things!!! for my mcyt designs, obviously i take huge inspirations from the actual ccs.

tango has similar hairlines and beard patterns to cc!tango. joel's hairstyle is very much inspired from his younger hairstyles, and pearl has a similarly long oval headshape from cc!pearl.

all of which are completely personal preference. some people take shape inspiration from personalities, voices, or whatever prophetic visions they have in their heads!

this would be the case for my cleo and etho designs. Cleo to me has a sharper voice & personality so i tried to incorporate that into what id think their face would be! etho is kind of . wet cat, but his voice for some reason gives me... round?? shapes?? so he has floppy hair and rounder eyes and ears in my design.

(another disclaimer: looks does not equate to personality, but like. its a lil easier 2 draw. and theyre shorthands and associations)

^ cleo has a higher eyebrow arch, sharp inner eye corner. etho has ears that stick out, uneven haircut, and his roots are darker :D

so its basically 2 big steps! Picking the face shape and then picking out details that would be unique to that character. to make characters different, i try to always pick something different between each person. so more contrast!!!

pearl and gem are easy since theyre opposites visually -- oval vs square, sharp vs round. for skizz and tango, i draw their eyes very similarly. but i decided my skizz would have a longer face and rounder cheeks, whereas tango has a bushier mustache and flatter face.

i am personally very fond of super stylized artstyles,,, i think cartoony / stylized artstyles take a lot of skill and a lot of character design thought into creating unique silhouettes that are still very recognizable! (for instance, huge fan of @/wasyago and @/alienssstufff)

unfortunately my artstyle isnt geared towards that lol, and alot of my face shapes tend to be very similar. so instead, i try to change up eye shapes (very common method of separating characters) and hairstyles! i have a long long way to go and i have a lot of bad habits lol but i hope this shows a little bit on how each of my characters are detailed differently.

[hd-erised]

We are over halfway through @hd-erised—isn't that exciting? It's been another fantastic week filled with art and fic and, as always, we hope you've been enjoying the fabulous submissions!

We hope you'll  take a moment to check out anything you might have missed this week, and don't forget to check our Week 1 and Week 2 round-ups for even more goodies. And, of course, please don't forget to leave a comment for our lovely artists and writers who make this fest the incredible experience that it is!! <3

Art:

Unemployed and On Guard for @makeitp1nk [T]

No One but Me for justlikewriting [M]

Fic:

Second Chance Resort for @elizah321[E, ~42,800]

A holiday forced on him by his friends after the latest in a long string of failed relationships might be a chance for Harry to relax, but all that is thrown up in the air by the appearance of one newly divorced Draco Malfoy. Mainly because they had been together almost fifteen years ago before Draco broke it off to marry the woman his mother chose for him… Feat. a matchmaking hotel, a spa day, an all-knowing Weasley, and friends who do try their best, but can get a little distracted.

Seven-and-sixpence for @oknowkiss [E, ~35,700]

The entire plan of Harry’s life had been defeat evil, become an Auror, marry Ginny. Not necessarily in that order, but it seemed to be going that way, the first two managed and the third in easy limbo. He can be better, though. He can be more. Draco will see to it.

Slip Slidin’ Your Way (In a Land of Fire and Ice) for @frm9pm [T, ~9,800]

How does a war-scarred young wizard recuperate and create a new identity? Harry opens himself to the magic of the land. Draco learns to wonder at the humblest of creatures. Years later, Magigeologist Evan Jameson and Malacologist Derek Black begin an enthusiastic correspondence. They’re in for a shock when they finally meet. Or: Science nerds go to Iceland and fall in love. Or: Why should kelp have all the fun?

Pillar of Salt for @agentmoppet [E, ~62,200]

From the lake in the Room of Hidden Things, Draco knows three things: 1. Mirror universes exist, and he’s going to find the best one—the one where he did the right thing. 2. Harry Potter and him are awfully cosy in some of these other universes, whereas Potter in real life is starting to act very odd around him indeed. 3. Draco’s reflection—the mirror version of him, the worst version of him—seems to be growing crueler. And stronger.

Prescription for @fantalfart [G, ~2,600]

Draco couldn't say he hated his job, not really. In fact, he loved it⁠—and wasn't that something surprising, a Malfoy being a Healer, when most of them hadn't worked a day in their lives?—and most of all, he loved knowing that he was helping people heal, above anything else. (And if there was a part of him that craved the normalcy of something that helped instead of what he had been taught to do his entire life? Well. That was between himself and his journal when he remembered to write in it.) (And maybe there was another reason too.)

Old love don't rust for @drarrydoodles [E, ~20,600]

“Why do you keep coming?” Malfoy asked at last. Harry mulled over the question. For a moment he debated trying to turn the tables and asking Malfoy the very same thing. But this time he didn’t want to hold back. “Because I can’t stop,” Harry said.

Equipoise for khalulu [T, ~88,200]

Ten years of peace have settled over the wizarding world, leaving Harry Potter feeling strangely adrift. Teaching Defense at Hogwarts is fine and all, but when mysterious magical blackouts start sweeping across the country, he can't help but jump at the chance to investigate. It would be the perfect outlet for his restless energy - if he didn't suddenly find himself tangled up in an elaborate charade, pretending to date the Prophet's most illustrious journalist, Draco Malfoy. Between hunting down the cause of the blackouts and maintaining their ruse, Harry's beginning to think that peacetime might actually be trickier - and far more surprising - than he'd bargained for.

Victory Lap for @traylalascrisis [E, ~4,700]

“I wasn’t sure if you’d want to eat first.” For emphasis, he pinches the skin at my waist. I want to cover myself in him. I want to roll in him like a dog. I want to devolve on top of him. And he wants me to sit nicely and use a knife and fork first?

[alex-frostwalker]

I know this sounds stupid but.. I just wanna ramble my BWW OCs here.

So... Here you go!

Inhabitant

Lora is good at playing the harp/lyre. It's the instrument she finds it easy to play.

She has average instrument playing experience, that's for sure. Not high expert ones.

She has a crush on Lance, like a big crush love on him. She doesn't know how it started, but it started to grow as he spent some time with her as she remained in solitude in her Stage.

She's good at sneaking up to people, and she's acrobatic to make herself quiet before the others notice her presence.

She can be apathetic when she is with people she's unfamiliar with.

A very good liar, being raised with semi-strict parents taught her that.

Is really good at dance related arcade games, her good leg strength makes up for it.

Lora sometimes gets strange prophetic dreams. Like seeing 3 people she's unfamiliar with or something else entirely.

Maestros

The 3 Maestros; Ori, Mame, and Future(Its Substitute Name, because I couldn't think of one) have their own motif weapons.

Ori's is a Shield, since the past is a cherished thing and something just protected. Or can be sealed away.

Mame's is a Sword, since the present is difficult and can be fought through with hardships and challenges.

Future's is a Bow/Arrows, since the future is unpredictable at the yonder and can pounce on in any given time

Basically Defense, Charge, and Ranged.

In truth, Ori and Mame are actually Balan's Replacement. Since his upcoming imbalance and will become Lance..

Mame, Balan and Lance doesn't know why Ori's form in default is a young girl, not a mature stature form like the 3. Ori doesn't question this and just enjoys her small form regardless..

Mame is working on a little project that will need Balan's approval and power, and that includes the Inhabitant's as well. She called this Project, the Heart Trial or Heart Challenge. It's a work in progress

It works similar to Lance's when he corrupts the Inhabitant into a NegaBoss in resulting the Stage becoming a fortress. But this, the Stage changes and goes against the Inhabitant who's conscious instead and challenge their heart in balance.. Just giving them a little push.

Reason why Mame's masked form doesn't have a mouth, she finds it creepy.

Mame stutters a lot in her speech and rhymes, she always have a script ready just in case she has a difficult time in interacting with the Humans. Ori just wings it though, even with some mistakes she just wants to express herself badly.

Mame has a written routine to help out the Balan in their duties as a Maestro in Training.

She worries a lot for the Visitors/Inhabitants that were taken away, or missing.

Future has many names such as Cloaked One, Follower, Wanderer, Future... It was given by the Visitors.. Even by the Maestros... It never got a name since it was 'created'... So they take whatever that was given to them.

Future kidnaps Inhabitants/Visitors, similar to Lance.

It leds the person away from their path and on to a secluded area. Will try to convince them that their future is bleak and will stay here for good. Even if you say No, it will take you away forcefully.

It is good at avoiding the Maestros. It stays mostly at the Negati Territory to blend in with it's surroundings. It doesn't stay in one place for too long.

The Kidnapped Visitors/Inhabitants don't stay captive for too long since Balan, Lance, Mame and Ori will find them trapped in the Heart Cage.

They'll don't have any memory of Future taking them away once they are freed from the cage... But they do feel drained and felt a lot of negativity.

Future does have a mouth, it's just covered. They just have to forced it to open to reveal it.

When Future is not floating or using her tendril/tentacle hair to move, they'll just fall flat on the floor like a ragdoll.

If they have to move on foot, they'll move like they're limping, similarly to Cyn (MD), Marionette (FNaF VR Game), The Rat (FNaC 3)

Despite having a womanly body figure, Future sometimes refers themselves in It/Its, because they are Something.. That.. Shouldn't have the right to exist.

Ori sometimes make accessories, decors, etc from the Drops she collected, she gets saddened when the Tims and Negati ate them. Balan pats her back and remind her that some things doesn't last forever.

Ori, Mame, and Future have some theme that goes along with them, other than the weapons.

Ori is Daytime with Clouds

Mame is Nighttime with Stars

Future is Midnight with Eclipse

[certkidwhocantdomath]

Guys, it's time to come clean.. My headcanons have never been in full. Yeah, in my true headcanons Johnny was blinded instead of Kenshi(bc Johnny getting blinded instead is underrated) but I kept it out because I thought you guys wouldn't like it. Also, Johnny has his powers but instead of green it's red(bc Johnny with red powers is canon but very underrated). But I finally decided to come clean and put my headcanons in full.

Btw, I just face revealed in my banner! Guess which I am!

Coldstar Headcanons, Part VII: The Truth

(That actually sounds like a badass title😆)

• Johnny is a descendant of Scandinavia and Greece and the sole surviving member the Karlatun Clan. (Canon doesn't have anything about the quote unquote "Mediterranean clan" Johnny descended from so I created a name myself)

• Johnny spoils Bi-Han. He loves to give him gifts, at least once a day. Such is the life of a celebrity. It can be anything, really. He also loves physical touch. I mean, he is a blind man. Johnny specifically loves it when Bi-Han guides him, with his hand on his shoulder or bicep. It makes him feel very present, especially with the complete loss of his sight. And that's something he cherishes.

• It's only when one of them is badly wounded, that Bi-Han says "I love you" to Johnny- when they are healed, Johnny beams from that point on. One of these moments was when Johnny was blinded by Mileena and stabbed by Shao(that's a story for another day I'm afraid).

• Ever since Johnny came to Outworld, he has been having prophetic dreams of Raiden wielding lightning, Kenshi blindfolded and levitating Sento ahead of him, Liu Kang and his cold hands, Bi-Han and a demonic shadow-like figure constantly looming over him, himself and burning hot fire. 

• Bi-Han is protective of Johnny but he's even more so in an unfamiliar place. After the Mileena incident, he will not let Johnny out of his sight and glares at anyone who tries to talk to him.

• Rather than Kenshi, Johnny is the one blinded by Mileena. It's because of Johnny's prophetic dreams that he decided to pull Mileena away from Kenshi, allowing himself to be blinded.

• After getting blinded, Johnny gained a unique "radar sense" that allows him to perceive the proximity and arrangement of objects around him. He cannot, however, discern pictures or video images, and he can only guess at colors based on the amount of heat they are absorbing or reflecting. (Johnny is basically MK's Daredevil)

• Rose(Johnny's mom) was the very woman who taught Johnny how to do that.

• After getting blinded, Johnny matured considerably, losing much of his earlier arrogance and shortsightedness. In the process, he becomes an overall well rounded and serious character, although his penchant for humor remains mostly intact.

• After gaining his powers, Johnny was sent to Seido for several months(this was before Bi-Han was courting Johnny, he started courting him the day he returned)much to the displeasure and anger of Bi-Han and Kenshi.

• Sometimes, Johnny's fellow kombatants forget Johnny is blind- leading to some funny moments similar to A:TLA when the Gaang forgets Toph is blind(perks of being a multifandom😎)

----MK CAST FORGETTING JOHNNY IS BLIND----

*out on a mission*

"There it is!" They heard Johnny exclaim from his cooling seat; aka Bi-Han's lap.

Kung Lao, Syzoth and Tomas perk up

Kung Lao looks around and sees nothing, he sends Johnny an unamused look

"That's what it'll sound like when one of you spots it." Johnny said with a smile and he waves a hand over his blindfold and gets comfy once more in Bi-Han's lap.

- -

*out on a mission in a desert*

Johnny accidentally knocks himself into Kung Lao

"Ow! Can't you watch where your-" Kung Lao stops himself the moment he realized who he was talking to,

"No." Was all Johnny said.

"Right, sorry." Kung Lao rubbed the back of his neck and looked behind Johnny to see Bi-Han giving a cold glare.

- -

*in the Lin Kuei mansion*

Kung Lao was drawing Syzoth, who was missing, with Johnny who was laying down and listening to soft music he was playing on his phone.

Raiden and Ashrah come in and Raiden happily says, "We found a printer to make our posters!"

Kung Lao replied with, "Hey, I thought making the missing Syzoth posters was my job. I've been working all day on my Syzoth!"

The Chakram wizard shows them a badly, but also cutely, done drawing of Syzoth.

"It's not bad," Kung Lao beams, "but also not good." Kung Lao deflates.

"C'mon, Ashrah your being too harsh!" Johnny began, "it looks just like him to me!"

"Thank you! I worked very-" than Kung Lao remembered who said that, "why do you have to do this?"

And can I just say, damn! I look cute in my banner!

[quranwithsehar]

It is said that after prophethood began, the first command given was about Namaaz. Hazrat Jibreel AS came and taught how to pray and do wuzu, and the order was to pray two rakaat in the morning and evening. It didn't start with five daily prayers all at once, but rather with a small beginning.

Imagine the desert of Arabia, a nation deeply involved in idol worship. In such a time, Allah sent His angel to the best among them, granting him prophethood and the responsibility to spread the message.

The first thing they were taught was to pray. They weren't given orders about charity, jihad, or anything else, nor were they told not to listen to music or how to raise children, or even what not to eat. There was no prohibition at the start, just one task: keep yourselves clean and pray two rakaat of prayer, once in the morning and once in the evening. That's it!

What do we do? When we join an Islamic school or take a Quran course, we often rush home on the first day and immediately start telling our parents about all the wrong practices they are following. We tell our sisters that their nail polish is forbidden, and we tell our cousins how shaping their eyebrows or not wearing a headscarf will lead them to hell. Within 24 hours of listening to an Islamic lecture, we start giving verdicts on what others shouldn't be doing and how they are making mistakes.

By doing this, we start many arguments and upset a lot of people. We engage in debates, and in the end, we defend our points with flushed faces and shaky voices, thinking that the opposition we face is the same as what the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) faced, or that every follower of the truth must endure such challenges. We end up seeing ourselves as victims, while labeling our family members as misguided.

When you preach Islam by giving speeches, passing judgments, and pointing out others' mistakes, this has nothing to do with the way the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) spread Islam. The Prophet (PBUH) didn’t spread Islam by criticizing people, raising his voice, making them feel bad, or forcing them to follow Islam through anger. The Prophet (PBUH) started spreading Islam — not by forbidding things, but by encouraging people to do something positive: keep themselves clean and pray.

When we come back from Islamic schools or courses, the first thing we do is criticize people's appearances and actions. We point out whose pants are too long, who doesn’t have a beard, or who isn’t covering themselves properly. Our focus starts with things that were introduced much later in Islam.

What we need to learn is that if we truly want to connect someone to the religion, we should first introduce them to an act of worship, something they can do. The time to forbid things will come, but not yet. First, we should gain proper knowledge ourselves, and then, when this act of worship starts bringing light into their life, we can gradually guide them toward the things they should avoid.

But we don’t do this. We start with criticism. Why? Because we focus on feeling superior. We want to say something different in gatherings, show people that we know more, and tell them they are wrong according to religion. This gives us a sense of satisfaction, but it’s actually pride in our knowledge. This is the same pride that Iblees had when he refused to bow to Adam.

Our goal should be to guide people toward Islam, not to push them away. We should think, "This person is in darkness, and I want to connect them with Allah's light, just as I was guided by Allah." We should approach them with kindness, making sure that none of our words hurt their feelings. They should not feel distant from religion after seeing us. Our words about Islam should inspire them, not push them away.

This is how you spread Islam with love, gentleness, and kindness. Unfortunately, it’s often those who have limited knowledge of religion who end up pushing entire groups of people away from Islam by focusing only on criticism, instead of connecting them with Allah.

[simplegenius042]

Late WIP Poll Winner(s) Wednesday

With Round 2 results in, here are the FC5 WIPs of Silva's Hope and the still unnamed "Proposed Arranged Marriage" scenario. For a cleaner context, I added a few more sentences.

I will be combining the rest of the other non-winner poll WIPs into one post soon. And catching up on some tags.

Tagging everyone who tagged me or were in the notes of this poll: @voidika @chazz-anova @inafieldofdaisies @cassietrn @adelaidedrubman @socially-awkward-skeleton @direwombat and @strangefable + anyone else who wants to read.

First! More Silva's Hope. Reminder that this WIP of mine is still under construction and some things may or may not change in the future. Introducing John's personal Chosen bodyguard (translation: unpaid babysitter), Nadi Sinclair doing some digging for Nancy:

Adjusting her shoulder, bringing the phone closer to her ear, Nadi asked into it, "Sister Nancy, I can't find any headlines nor editorials on "Elsa Omar" or any "Floristry"... are you certain there's something here? Perhaps you had read wrong, no?"

The older woman on the other end replied, her aged and gentle voice filled with patience, "I guarantee its in one of them papers, Sister Nadi. My eyes remember the exact words when I read the cover. You'll find it eventually dearie." Nadi made an affirmative hum as she unwrapped the next piece of paper.

And lo and behold, the words "MISSING OWNER OF ELSA'S FLORISTRY FOUND! BODY RECOVERED IN LOCAL HENBANE CAVE" were centered right in the middle of the page. Nadi blinked, momentarily perplexed, and checked the date of publishing. December 7th, 2013. Bringing her eyes back to the story, she read the first few lines the page had to offer.

And Kamski's POV in the arranged marriage scenario WIP!

[TW: Mention of coerced marriages and implications of canon infanticide. Also emotional manipulation?]

Joseph appeared unbothered by his lack of trust in the prophet's words, and seemed to decide to placate the doctor's paranoia, "I assure you Doctor Neon, we care for Deputy Omar's health as much as you do. God is looking out for your charge, and will protect her from the Collapse. You can trust me to keep her safe."

Kamski hummed, unconvinced. He really wanted to scoff and snarl at the man in front of him. Yeah, shooting, stabbing, almost drowning, torturing, drugging, sicking wolves on her, almost killing her in general, letting her starve and dehydrate while conditioning her to kill innocent people has been a wonderful method of tending to her health. He hated the serenity in Joseph's voice, how easy it was for him to lie to the Good Doctor's face. Does he really think me, a 58-year-old self-taught medic and doctor, that naive? Is he so focused on what he thinks God demands of him that he can't see this isn't what Silva needs or wants? How trapping her in another set of walls will do her more harm instead of less? "Care for her" my ass. Kamski doesn't exactly know what Joseph's game is, but the evidence points to possibilities that do nothing to decrease the disgust and contempt he felt toward the so-called prophet. He knew the last place Silva should be was near Joseph and the cursed prophecy that just continues to take so much from them. He hated the familiarity of the situation, hated how little control he had again, and despised himself for wishing Paul was there. At least Paul could protect her.

Kamski shooed away those thoughts. No! Remember what he took away from Silva. Be glad he's gone. Kamski exhaled a breathe and looked to Joseph. His siblings were still around, including Silva's unwanted suitor, but the doctor felt unconcerned by their presence. If they wanted Silva to join the family, despite how low of a chance that actually is, they would need him alive. Though Kamski wasn't unprepared to fight back should he need to. After all, he couldn't trust these Saints to keep their words. He stared through the yellow lens of Joseph's aviators. It nagged him, the certainty Joseph had that he could keep anyone, especially Silva, safe, when it was him who was the danger. Kamski knew from experience that at a moments notice, whether it was "God's Will" or his own, he could have Silva life end without hesitation. Even his own family wasn't safe. A reminder he chose now to address in his response.

"Just like you protected your daughter?"

[jimintomystery]

DS9: "Prophet Motive"

Grand Nagus Zek returns to Deep Space Nine to announce his new edition of the Ferengi Rules of Acquisition, rewritten to promote generosity instead of greed. When Quark investigates Zek's change of heart, he discovers that the Nagus recently had an encounter with the Prophets who dwell in the Bajoran wormhole! Also Doctor Bashir is nominated for an award or something.

All too often in Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, there will be a story where they tack on an irrelevant Quark cameo so that main cast member Armin Shimerman isn't left out. They do this with all the regulars from time to time, but it sticks out more with Quark, since there are so many plots where it's tough to justify a scene with a civilian bartender. Once you start noticing this, you can't un-see it. Anyway, this episode is the flip-side of that, in that the Carrington Award story is totally pointless except to get everyone else screen time in a Quark episode.

As Ferengi episodes go, this one is pretty good. I suppose that's because it starts with the basic Ferengi premise (a race of greedy aliens) and does a big reversal (but what if they weren't greedy?) instead of diving deeper (i.e., let's worldbuild the greedy aliens until we run the gimmick into the ground). Quark isn't too selfish (he's basically doing the right thing!), Rom isn't too stupid, and Zek isn't too obnoxious.

The most remarkable thing about this story is that Zek and Quark enter the wormhole and commune with the Prophets! We'll see a lot more of them going forward, so it's easy to forget this is the first time we've seen them at all since the pilot, when Commander Sisko taught them about linear time and baseball. They feel a bit off here, as if they're a gentle parody of the actual Prophets to play into the comedy of Ferengi episodes. I can't really see them being all that judgemental about Zek's greed, certainly not to the point of examining the history of his species and altering his mind.

On the other hand, this odd encounter does set up a very important plot point down the line. Because of Sisko, the Prophets see linear existence like a game that must be played out. And thanks to Zek and Quark, they are very testy about those who would try to control the outcome of the game...

[heathersdesk]

"So you're telling me that Jesus Christ is there to save you from what God is going to do to you if you don't repent?"

In this worldview, divine law and sin exist solely as the mechanisms for being punished and rejected by God. The atonement of Jesus Christ, as a result, saves people not from sin or Satan, but from a God who is tallying our wrongs to exact a punishment. The only thing stopping this God is the mercy of Christ, who nullifies the consequences of our actions through his own torment and suffering. We learn nothing, Christ suffers, and a violent God is appeased by watching an innocent man die.

Let's unpack all of this so we can throw it away because it's inaccurate theology that misunderstands and taints pretty much everything it touches.

Divine law does not exist to catch us in wrong doing, to provide the rules by which God can punish us without restraint. That's a projection onto God from the experience of dealing with horrible people. They may do this to us, but God does not.

A great way to prove this is to look at what sin actually is. Something doesn't become sinful "just because God said so." Sin, by definition, is anything that causes "temporal death" or "spiritual death." If it doesn't cause physical harm or distance us from God, it's not a sin. This is actually a really good standard for discerning and judging whether something that is being called sinful comes from God or not.

Murder? Physical harm. Sin.

Idolatry? Spiritual harm. Sin.

Refusing to ever identify myself as a Mormon or LDS again, even though they're accurate labels for myself, because of concerns and scruples I don't care about, and for a spiritual benefit that is dubious at best?

Am I saying that prophets and members of the Church have so polluted the notion of sin with their own prejudices and biases that what makes something sinful has completely gotten lost in a sea of crap that was never sinful at all?

Yes. Yes, I am.

Why is this important for answering the question of whether we have a vengeful God and a pushover Christ?

Because it means that the laws and standards by which we're trying to judge the motivations of God have been polluted by human nonsense. It means that the transactional relationship where God and Christ fight over us using fine print and technicalities is as broken as it sounds, and we're not bound by anything that relies upon that as a justification because it just isn't true. It means that if this dysfunctional relationship is what you were taught by family, church leaders, and other members of the Church, you've been taught blasphemy that doesn't even come close to being accurate.

It's impossible to repent of something that isn't sinful. That's why no matter how much you do it, it will never bring peace.

So if transactional atonement is the vestigial anxieties of Calvinism being passed along through generational trauma and it belongs in the dumpster, how should we view the atonement of Jesus Christ instead? What are God's motivations towards us if not to cause misery through setting impossible standards we'll never be able to meet?

God sent us here, in a variety of circumstances, to learn one lesson: to obtain knowledge of good and evil. More specifically, we're here to learn good from evil, and to consistently choose that which is good. We're here to have free will, to use and exercise agency. God gave us the ability to make our own choices, to know ourselves and to seek our own joy.

That's it. That's the plan.

Why is Jesus Christ necessary for God's plan? Because giving self-determination to the entire human race inevitably leads to suffering that we cannot overcome or undo the damage from on our own. We need someone to teach us how to be reconciled to God and to each other.

To put it simply, we have a Savior because we need him. We need him to teach us how to choose between good and evil in a way that no other person can. We need someone who can teach us to right wrongs, to heal wounds, to break generational curses in ways only he could do. He's not an enabler or a pushover. He is the one we depend on to teach us reconciliation. This isn't making that which is wrong or evil magically disappear. It's to resolve conflict and to be fully received again in love.

God is love. Love permeates everything God does. If love is absent, or needs to be redefined or contorted into something that neither looks nor feels like love, then it's not love. And if it's not love, then it's not from God.

Jesus Christ is the embodiment and evidence of God's love for us. That's it. There is no other reason or motivation for us to have a Savior. He doesn't just deliver us from sin. He delivers us to a greater capacity to love God and our neighbors as ourselves. He brings peace to us, the spirit of reconciliation, to everything we do.

(See 2 Nephi 2, 2 Nephi 9, Alma 12, and Alma 34)

[themidnightgoosepal]

Hazbin Headcanons ( mostly Alastor and Niffty) but there's some Husk

Alastor is mixed Creole(that's canon) but specifically his mama is a black Haitian immigrant and his daddy is a white cajun

He has reddish brown hair and lots of freckles

He's tan but ultimately pretty racially ambiguous

His daddy is called Isaac or Isaiah or something(Isaac specifically means to smile or to laugh which could have some interesting implications)

He's actually a bastard because his mama was a nun when she got pregnant with him(maybe not by choice) and she had to flee the convent to america

He used to play dress up with her old habit (nunalastor explanation)

He just has the nun outfit on hand, cause it was actually his mama's

His father is technically not his bio dad. That's probably some unnamed missionary prior the United States occupying Haiti who took advantage of one of the first natives conforming to the church

His mom's name is Mallory because it means faithful/loyal and it fits her as a god-fearing woman but also it can mean unlucky (her life is truly a tragedy)

He's a natural magic user, a witch, he has the gift

His mother went to the church as a way to conform to the oppressive customs of Hispaniola and to get away from her abusive mother but when his powers get stronger, she takes him back to Haiti to see his grandmother, who's like a religious matriarch, like a Mambo

I want to clarify the reason Mallory left was because her mother was a powerful member of the community and she wouldn't have been able to flee her influence unless she entirely left her community

Mallory never wanted to get him involved with his grandmother. She thought she knew enough to teach him about his roots and the religion she grew up in

Because at the end of the day she does still believe in those practices as much as the Christian god

Even if her own mother hurt her in the name of them

The church is oppressive af that far south, though, so they would also have to attend church to avoid suspicion in their community, especially if his daddy is white

she didn't have time and by the time she taught him everything she knew it had gotten far out of hand. She never had this kind of gift and she didn't know what to do

So she goes back to her mother that even though she swore she had left that life behind

Really, she knew this would happen the minute she named her son alastor. That's what Mallory's mother told her to name her child when she was young

"if you eva bear a child, Mallory, may he be an avenger of mine and torment you, chile. Like ya do ta me. Name him Alastor." " Call your child avenger if you want to take charge of your life and fight back for once"

When he harnesses his gifts somewhat and they go back to LO she comes with. A shack just mysteriously pops up in the woods one day way to quick for her to have built it and she just sets up shop

Her name is Abbadon Monet

I think she had a big hand in the Haitian Revolution but like in the background. She would deliver messages through her congregations for revolutionaries or something

And she teaches Alastor all about that side of his heritage, breaking chains, and not bowing down to no man

It would really resonate with a boy that has been beat and brutalized and ostracized all his life by his father, bigger children, white people, people who didn't approve of his parents, people who put him down

And then she teaches him ways to use his magic to fight back. To curse instead of bless and to use the shadow that hangs over his shoulders as a weapon

His mother keeps her maiden name Mallory Monet

She teaches him how to sew and cook. She watches other people's children for money and sings in the church choir even though all she ever really wanted was to take her son and sing in a traveling theatre

Monet is french for to hear or to be heard. Perfect for a lineage of priests, prophets, messengers, and musicians

Alastor's name means tormenter/avenger, if you didn't get that already

So his full name translation is " Avenger that is meant to be heard"

Perfect for a guy with a strong sense of justice that knows he has been persecuted for only the crime of existing

His Grandma definitely picked that name being a revolutionary.

I think Abbadon is a creature of envy. She was likely born a slave and had to fight for every bit of magic and history and knowledge she could

She would be the one to teach Alastor that every bit of gossip, every tidbit of knowledge makes you that much more aware and in control and powerful

Knowledge is power after all, but its also how you stay safe

But she is cruel. Not unlike his father is cruel. His father beats him. She burns him. His father cuts him with axes and knives. She sews his fingers, lips, feet together. It's different cultures with different methods of punishment and yet for both they dole it out for the most minor offense

But he still will sneak out in cover of dark to meet her, because she at least teaches him things and doesn't drink the day away, just smokes Cannabis and sips funny tea from time to time

His grandmother and father hate each other for perceived misanthropy but they are hypocrite

They all speak french creole at home

Husk's full real birth name is Hammarabi Husker

Hammurabi is an old king from the bible

His parents probably were corn farmers hence the name "Husker"

But his first name was the christian name the orphanage gave him

He was born in rural Nevada but got put up for adoption in Las Vegas

He grew up on the streets of a major city in America the melding pot

He's a polyglot (which is pretty much canon)

He's a hustler, a master pickpocket, and a magicians assistant at a casino. Best rogue in the buisness

Sleight of hand is +10

But he gets bored and trains are at the height of production right now(1900-1910s)

So he starts hopping on trains and traveling the country

He's a dark skinned black boy and he has vitiligo( like his white spots as a cat demon)

Also, at least as an adult, Husk is husky

Like he is chubby. He has weight to throw around for real. He was a soldier. He's a big strong boy

He's got a big appetite and nobody is gonna feed him, so he's gonna travel the country to see if there's something for him in the world

I think he has pretty green eyes

He has wings because he was a kamikazee pilot in both world wars, plus probably Korea and Vietnam

Alastor probably fought with him in The Great War

His skills with radio would make sense if he worked in the military

And if he and husk were war heroes, that would make it much easier for him to get a job as a colored man

I think he was a radio host (which he's wanted to be since he learned about radios) I just think he was also a soldier first

Husk meets Alastor going down to New Orleans for Mardis Gras

Alastor is trying to absorb everything he can about magic and sees a kid maybe his age while he's out running errands for his parents, who is saying he's the greatest magician to have ever lived

Hammurabi has been doing great in New Orleans. He's getting so much money he hardly knows what to do with it

Then, when he's trying to win even more in a game of poker, some redhead kid with glasses comes up to him and starts asking him about magic. Just like imagine his surprise when the weird kid with the thick Haitian accent wins the pot and forces him to " teach him some magic"

And then when 5 minutes into teaching this kid a card trick he says "no, real magic" and Husk says "what do you mean?"

And then his shadow peels off the wall behind him and walks to stand next to this kid and wave. All while alastor stands completely still

And Hammurabi screams and stumbles back on his ass and says "are you a witch!? You have to teach me to do that, I could get so much money"

And alastor says" I can't teach you that. Mwen lonbraj is a unique part of me. But you can come to my house for dinner if you want and I can show you different spells"

They are like bffs

The Magician and The Witch

Mallory is like his mother figure that he never had

But Abbadon scares the everliving shit out of him with her magic. Hes used to classic Houdini type magic tricks

Not genuine powerful hoodoo

Alastor is creepy enough and he's trying to be nice and polite most of the time. Abaddon isn't

He never really meets Al's dad but he hates him

He sees all the injuries on Mal and Al and he hears the stories

Husk and Alastor both have a strong moral compass and get into a lot of fights. Because they don't let it slide when someone talks down to them

Which is dangerous for two colored boys in the Jim Crow era

They get into lots of trouble for sure

He also meets a bunch of other orphans and runaways traveling around the country

They're very Peter Pan and the Lost Boys

Including having to chase after Lonbraj, alastor's shadow

Niffty is tinkerbell

One lost boy, or rather girl, Titania, is trans. Also Husk is trans

Husk knows alastor is a witch

And he takes Titania to meet him and one of alastor's first big ritual spells is that he switches the bio sex

So he transes their genders, like a true ally

The three of them are incredibly close and all of them trust each other more than anyone else they've all had very difficult lives

Titania is actually a Japanese immigrant that ran away from her family after being sexually abused

And Alastor also has a long history of abuse of various kinds

So he and Titania decide to "try it out" to see if it's better when you actually want to do it

And it's fine. Neither really cares for it in the end and they go their separate ways

But she actually is pregnant! And the baby? Is NIFFTY

When Titania realizes she's pregnant she goes to Abbadon, Alastor's grandma

And with her hoodoo magic she looks out over the swamp and for a moment the fireflies seem to spell out a name: NYMPHADORA

And that was the baby's name

That's right her full name is Nymphadora meaning pretty woman

It's just niffty for short

Also she is definitely a firefly demon

Everyone in the hotel thinks she carries around, like, a little backpack full of cleaning supplies

And then one day she opens them up and reveals they were 4 pretty beetle wings all along

And everyone is like why didn't you catch yourself during the trustfall.

1. She likes pain 2. She wanted them to feel bad for not catching her

Also we don't actually see when she jumps off that building after vaggie throws everyone. I think she just glides down

Her top two wings are hard black shell with some yellow stripes around the edge. And her bottom two are beautiful gossamer insectoid with a warm color tint to match the rest of her

Think how she would look backlit

Also the top two black wings probably kinda look like alastor's shadow tendrils

So the image is a nice nod to her daddy

Also I think she should have cute little bug antennae that match alastor's little antlers

I think she has a natural magic gift too, since alastor does and he's her dad

But while Alastor is shadows and plants, she is pure fire magic

I think a part of that is that as a demon she's cursed to burn up every plant she touches(which is taken from a popular head canon that alastor wilts plants he touches, but I think that's dumb)

(His whole thing is that he creates a plant filled biome. His magic definitely lends itself to plant care)

And one day someone gives her flowers and she burns them up and then runs away, crying "WHY DO I DESTROY EVERYTHING I TOUCH!?!?"

But alastor finds her and sits her down and tells her how, even though she makes messes sometimes, she cleans up way more

And that those flowers were dead the moment they were cut anyway but at least she gave them a proper spectacular sendoff in a big ball of flames instead of leaving them to slowly wilt and rot away

And that her fiery personality and spark of creativity are the most charming part of her

And then he makes a bunch of flower puns until she's smiling again

Fireflies have a marking on their head that looks just like niffty's cyclops eye. I think her little blush marks aren't actually blush, but the fireflies 2 other eyes, like how angel's freckles are actually eyes

And she has two extra arms for twice as much cleaning power

And because beetles/insects have 6 limbs(excluding wings)

But she doesn't retract them like angel she pulls them into her sleeves and hugs herself. And then when she needs them she takes them out

Even though she has two arms on each side, they're so skinny both can fit through just one sleeve

Her belly glows like a firefly too

Titania honestly wasn't ready to raise her, though

I think Abaddon actually magically changed her into a firefly in a jar instead of letting this young girl go through the full horrors of pregnancy, much less birth

And by the time Alastor finds out she was ever with child in the first place, probably after he and husk had already left to fight in the war, it's already been years and Titania is gone and Abaddon has disappeared and left him with the shack in the woods

He picks up her magic business on the side, it lets him get to know people from all walks of life, and works at the New Orleans Radio Station as his day job.

And he finds the jar with niffty in it and transforms the firefly it back to a person

But it like violently explodes in a ball of magic fire and burns him and Hammurabi, who was there, and at first they thought it burned the baby (who by the way just pops out full formed, already at like 6 months even though she had never developed that much and also weirdly it had been at least three years since she got jarred)

But actually she just has a reddish birthmark on her forehead (like a cyclops eye)

Husk falls in love immediately. He's been all around but he's never seen someone with a marking that takes up as much of their face as him.

And as soon as he sees her he vows he won't let anyone hurt her like he was because her face looks different

And her hair is an unusually light color for a Japanese kid

But it's the most beautiful brown either of them have ever seen and it glows in the candlelight

And in the sunlight makes it look like a bonfire, like how Al's red hair does sometimes

But hers is even brighter

And her and alastor both have the prettiest brown eyes you've ever seen. But while Al's are a deep ruby red when you gaze into them too long. A fire that's been burning low. The red hot coals under the pot. A comfortable hearth. The sky before a hurricane. The last hearty meal before God's wrath rains down on you

Nymphadora's eyes are bright, such an unbelievably bright amber. They're the lanterns you release on important celebrations. The color of a candlelight vigil. Stars and wonder. Prometheus's gift to humanity. A flame you dance around wildly into the night. And fireflies

They have freckles like ash scattered on their skin

When they're apart, you might not relate one to the other mentally

But when you see them together you know that that is a papa and his bebe

Also Niffty calls him Baba

She kinda has a nasally voice so you can't fully tell if shes saying Mama or papa

And Alastor is very gender nonconforming to me

So no matter who you are you will not be able to picture the parent she's talking about

And then it's alastor and husk

Two large unique looking black men, one of whom is a drunk magician with cards falling out of his pockets every time he stumbles.( He tried to pull out a flask and a dove escapes.)

And the other who is dressed in nice but incredibly worn clothes,including a large burgundy trench coat that has seen better days, and red tinted glasses with wire frames walks with a limp and carries a cane that looks more like a staff used in voodoo rituals. And looks like he just got off a 13 hour shift at the radio station and the bags under his eyes have their own area code, but still won't stop tiredly, manically smiling

juxtaposed against this tiny Japanese kid with bright orange hair and toy fairy wings that will not stop obsessively compulsively cleaning

#Unconventional family

Imagine being her teacher lol

Single parent alastor and drunk uncle husk

Speaking of, I think Alastor killed his dad when he was 13.

In the kitchen with a knife. He actually was planning to kill his father by putting a curse on him. But one night Isaac came home late and Mallory was already in bed, but Alastor was there

He looks just like his mother, even if he is light skinned, even if he has reddish hair instead of her deep brown

Issac went too far that night, he had been going too far for years and Alastor was fed up and desperate

And when his dad was dead he spent all night hiding the body and cleaning the kitchen

Just picture a baby fawn trying to drag a dead body at least twice his size

He told his mom he just never came home

But his grandma knew the truth. Abby was proud of him. And from then on, he started learning much more serious magic at a must faster pace

Including medicine because a couple years later his mom got sick

And when he was 16 he kept next to his mother's bed and watched her pass away

He honestly had a lot on his plate as a kid. It's no wonder he has such a large connection with the shadow. All those emotions he couldn't express built up. He tried to suppress his magic too. It resulted in an explosion.

Maybe in battle. During the war.

He was never a good soldier. He didn't grasp hierarchy well and was horrible at taking orders. But he had some really revolutionary technical skills plus, even with one bad eye, he's a commendable sharpshooter

And he and Hammurabi are quite the duo. The best engineer and pilot duo ever seen

I imagine they accomplished a lot, made changes, won medals, experienced great horrors

I imagine alastor's breaking point then was not long after his first time under siege. He had so much suppressed trauma with his mother's death and his father's abuse and the various forms of discrimination

And he just broke and his shadow who he had always hid behind became a wild beastly shield over the entire trench. And destroyed the opposing fleet

And then he had to use magic to seal the lips of his platoon to keep them from squealing

I understand why he's obsessed with deals if he had such an unpredictable childhood and living a life with so much to hide. He needs contracts with everyone around him so he knows what the expectations are

Because how often was he brutalized for not understanding what was expected of him

He is like a master codeswitcher btw

Also I think he and his mom participated in the church choir

That's right he's a choirboy

He's also a heretic going to church while practicing voodoo

He wears red tinted glasses because it helps to see underwater which is useful for someone who hangs out in a swamp with gators lurking just under the surface

Also if you subscribe to the belief he's colorblind then it's like early colorblind glasses, specifically for red-green colorblindness

He might have been but I think he gets a full color spectrum eventually. Either because he's reborn as a demon with it or he casts a spell on his eyes

Either way it gives new perspective to why he loves red so much if he couldn't see it until fairly recently in his life

After his mom died he gets recruited to the military

But I think his first radio was one he collected or maybe stole from somewhere when he was just a tiny boy and it was broken but he fixed himself and he was so proud

And had to subsequently fix it again over and over everytime his father broke it in a fit of rage, which happened way too many times

But he never stopped enjoying learning about radio, even if it was to fix a grown man's temper

I also think he lived in a shotgun shack in a ghetto

He was surrounded by people at all times and nobody ever tried to save him from the abuse, which probably gave him an exhibitionist complex(given that he broadcasts screams of his victims, though, that's not surprising)

Even though he's ace, he's still pretty kinky. I doubt he realizes it though

I also think that since he's a canon sadist, hes also a masochist. It's two sides of the same coin really

He probably has a long self harm history (he already canonly has trichtolomania). It's all just an attempt to be in control of his own pain though

I feel like his childhood was a horror story. Like, I think the reason he carries a cane is that as a human he has a limp. Possibly from war. But I also think it at least is partially related to abuse

Like he was pushed into a pond on purpose and some gators got his toes #weirdkidlore

It's very human of him to be embarrassed about his feet, just for them to become hooves that he doesn't know how to take care of in death

And I'm sure he has a hard time accessing emotions so he might recreate those extreme situations from before he started internally blocking off and shutting down in an attempt to "feel something again"

A Lot of people with ASPD have substance abuse issues

He has high alcohol tolerance from years of overdrinking

Also he smokes cannabis for sure. He's always smiling, his eyes are red, I think he'd look cool smoking from a pipe

And since this is before the war on drugs, he's probably taken all kinds of other old timey pharmaceuticals too

So like he has experience with some crazy stuff, but mostly he just keeps a packet of those jazz cigarettes in his inside coat pocket in case he has to deal with any of those pesky emotions

Alastor had a fucked up, unimaginably and nightmarishly abusive childhood and he definitely is trying hard to keep Niffty away from that reality. Obviously there is a lot of very real discrimination he has no control over and probably hates himself about.( I think he does try and do something about it but I'll talk about that in a moment)

In comparison, his brother, war buddy, and now coparent who had a neglectful childhood as an orphan, but isn't at a point in his life where he realizes he had a bad childhood because he's hyper independent and thinks that running around the continent unsupervised built his character

They're both traumatized war veterans who have really no idea about raising a child, but one is terrified of fucking up to the point it's overbearing. And the other is borderline neglectful because he doesn't understand kids limits due to his own fucked childhood

Guess who's who (you can't)

So niffty's parents(as far as she knows) are a tired Haitian man that works full time on the radio and probably also a bootlegger and a drunk magician.

Also I don't know if I made it clear but alastor for sure bootlegs mead and wine and various other alcohols from stuff in his garden

She goes to school and then hangs out in illegal speakeasies with her parents or waits at home for them to come back from illegal speakeasies

Her cleaning thing probably comes from her not doing well in school and also being a latchkey kid before latchkey kids considering she has two guardians working fulltime. So she does what she can do to help out around the house.

I think after alastor dies, whoever killed him, tries to burn down "the old witch shack" where they live

She wakes in the night to fire all around. Her dad is out doing magic or work stuff she assumes

But when she escapes to the back garden she sees her baba's mangled body dangling from the tree they used to sit under together and read

He has a hole in his head, but to her, for a moment it looks like a third eye

All she can think is how he doesn't have his cane and he has a hard time walking without his cane. Her baba didn't do this to himself

And after she escapes the arson she finds Hammurabi in a one in a million chance and they leave LO and he goes back to moving cross country doing magician grifts and gambling and drinking way more than alastor ever would allow him before, all while dragging a grieving kid behind him

Magic tricks can't fix your dad dying though

And he does love niffty, but alastor wasn't that great a person so he tells her all the truths about her father as she grows up and he tries to ease her into it but sometimes when he drinks too much he just lets things slip

And niffty learns about how he killed all of these people, people in powerful positions, people who hurt and take advantage of the more vulnerable. He did it to try and change the way things were. All in a misguided attempt to make the world a better place for her

So she's the Halcyon Hammurabi Husker's magical assistant. but after the shows over she has to hang back alone and clean the venue and clean their hotel room and cook her own meals and be in charge of all these things. And then Husk comes home and after he sleeps off his hangover, there's a couple hours that he can teach her some English, science, math, and Japanese and then it's back to the show

Then of course the WW2 happens and he's deployed again, multiple times over the course of his and niffty's life.

And then she's stuck in a singular place, by herself, with only husk's various acquaintances left to check in on her. Waiting for him to return

At least she can go to school again

But of course there are quickly-rising, extreme anti Japanese sentiments. So much so she wonders if this was what it was like for her parents when they were still in the Jim Crow Deep South

And she realizes her Baba could never have protected her from other people's pure hate

I heard somewhere Slavery was like the original sin of the west and we have had many a martyr. But not one who died for those sins

And I propose that martyr is Niffty

THATS RIGHT NIFFTY

IS THE SECOND COMING OF OUR LORD AND SAVIOR JESUS CHRIST

I'm kidding but she kind of was a miracle. Like not immaculate conception but immaculate gestation cause she was just a magic bug in a candle jar until alastor said let's see if this magic abortion can still become a baby

I think with the way she probably put her murderer father on a pedestal after he died and the way Husk sort of neglects her its not surprising she gets in with dangerous people

She wants doting and affection that no matter how much she tries to earn by doing acts of service, she will never truly get back now that her father is dead and gone

But she still only has those limited tool sets to offer people. She doesn't know how to do anything else. She can't talk good or do magic of any kind like her parents. All she can do is house chores. But she can also make things, she's found. And she can fix things

Clean things renew things

She can make her own toys and Halloween costumes and food and she can fix husks magician outfit and mend her clothes. And she can make art

Also I think Husk is a very talented artist in his free time he just doesn't talk about it

He has a stockpile of old art and supplies in storage somewhere(although once alastor has his soul, al repossesses it all. It's in the attic of his creepy witch shack in the bayou pocket dimension) along with his other juck he's collected over the years

Alastor is a doodler. He loves cartoons and designing sigils

And I think when niffty has cleaned up all the corners of the house she can think of, she does art

She dates a lot of people very quickly in her teen years. She doesn't have a great sense of danger and she's unsupervised for the most part.

She probably also gets a lot of jobs that she does okay in but has a hard time keeping, for various reasons

She meets one guy after all of her attempts that seems just so loyal. He's always so grateful for her housekeeping skills and he seems like he would never leave her. He even asks her to marry! And of course she says yes. Husk is never really around. He's been different since he's come home from the war. He doesn't even do his magician's act lately. Since they legalized alcohol again all he does is lay around drinking while she rushed to clean up around him. But he doesn't even praise her. He barely acknowledges her. She's saved up a lot from all her jobs that she's been hiding under her floorboards to keep husk from gambling it away

So they elope. And they get their own house and they start a new life. But her husband changes after they're married. He gets meaner, he expects more, he cares less

Where she used to have time for herself to enjoy her interests, now he gets just so mad if she's not cooking or cleaning or not doing anything for them and their life( read: him and his comfort)

She used to be able to have her hobbies. Her favorite thing in the world is puppets. She loves to make them(she uses the sewing and voodoo doll making skills alastor taught her) and write fun scripts for them and put shows on for the kids at the local library and the farmer's market It was the only place she felt she belonged. She could be different people, focus on something outside of herself. But also writing down and acting out her problems helps her process her emotions

That's her last straw. Her puppets. When he gets meaner and meaner and more violent, she understands, even those few times, when he actually hit her while he had a little too much. She knew it was because she wasn't doing enough

But then he goes to far. He has some miniscule complaints about her cooking and how the bathroom wasn't clean enough and how she didn't make their bed right. She's just been saying she'll do better next time. But he's getting angrier and angrier and she's sure he will absolutely rip her a new one but then he storms off. And she thinks he's gone to bed so she takes out her puppet projects and lines them up and gets ready to practice her new play. Hopefully then she'll feel better

But out of nowhere he comes behind her and rips the puppet out of her hands when she was fixing Mr. Desmond's tiny hat shouting how she cares more about these puppets than her own husband and then he RIPS OFF HER PUPPETS HEAD and tosses it at her, hitting her in the face.

And even though she could always sew it back she realizes she does care more about her puppets than him. So, while he's still shouting, she takes out the longest needle she has and slowly stands and very calmly sticks it into his neck until he stops talking and instead starts choking

He pushes her to the ground and runs outside presumably to a phone booth

And then the police show up and not long after she is in a white building that she will not leave for a long time

The doctors all say that there's something wrong with her. She tries a lot of drugs and talks to a lot of people about things she's never even really considered before, like her baba and her husband.

She sees husk for the first time in years but only once. She cries and screams in his face that he never loved her and get her out of here she doesn't want to hurt people but he just leaves. He doesn't come back for a long time

One day they tell her that since nothing is working and she's not better yet they're going to try something new.

They strap her to a chair and give her more pills and injections and the put a mask over her face and it all makes her very tired. So she goes to sleep

But when she wakes up, in the same spot there's a bunch of doctors and nurses very close to her and she feels a poke under her eye. And she panics

She thrashes and moves and cries for her baba and the poke becomes a burn becomes a pop becomes a gush but she doesn't stop trying to escape. The doctors are trying to hold her down now. They're trying to put the mask on her and poke needles in her arms. It feels like an eternity of struggle but then the dual sensations of not being able to breathe and feeling her brain leaking out of her face becomes too much and the world goes black

And she wakes up in bed

She doesn't ever feel the same after that. She feels like they stole her brain. Like they scooped it right out

The next time she sees husk is weeks after they tell her she's better fixed. She never felt like there was anything even wrong

But Husk takes her home. A different one than she remembers. He says he has to leave her alone again and that he's sorry but he'll be back soon

She's not so good at time anymore. It feels like it's been a long time. She's been alone a long time

Then she sees her husband in her and Uncle Hamby's home. Shes not sure he's real but he takes her with him. She doesn't really want to go. But he says he has all of her puppets and clothes and toys if she just goes with him. So she does

And he does. And they're happy again. For a bit. She cleans and plays and does things her way and he doesn't complain. But he's started a new game. It's called pictures

She does whatever she wants, keeps things tidy her way and makes strange concoctions in the kitchen that her husband tries every time, even when he doesn't want to, plays puppets

And then at night he takes pictures of her with no clothes. He doesn't touch her unless to punish her for not being very very still for the camera. Or to reposition her. But at least he leaves her alone the rest of the time. He's not even home except at night.

One day she runs out of some cleaning supply or cooking ingredient and goes out with the money she gets from her husband(for his pictures) and she sees her husband across the street through the window of a diner with another woman

She goes in and sits at the booth next to them. They don't notice her

She hears the other woman say how much money they're making with this new business. They could be the next playboy her husband says. All these girls are so dumb they don't even know how much they cost.

She goes home and thinks. She thinks how her husband doesn't ever take her out or even do anything with her. She has her own room now and he doesn't stay with her except to take pictures. How did she never realize how strange that was before?

She doesn't love him. He doesn't love her. She's being used for money. For her body, and not even in a fun way

She waits for her husband to get home. He takes his pictures, like every night. And goes to bed, in his own separate room.

She locks all the doors takes out a container of gas and pours it so it soaks into all the carpet. It's on all the walls. She hunkers down in the puppet theater she made with all of her real friends, the only creatures to ever care about her surrounding her. And lights a match and throws it out. And it gets hotter and hotter and she hears her "husband" screaming behind his locked door and the smoke makes it harder to breathe but eventually, holding her puppets with fire all around her, the pure light goes black

PART 2 PENDING

[lunarsilkscreen]

Comedian, Philosopher, Prophet

[Wisecrack]{Michael Burns} asked the question that has been asked for at least a hundred years; "Are comedians the new philosophers?" And on YouTube at least; you can see videos dating back at least 15 years also asking this same question.

Something that people are wary about doing, however; is equating philosophers and prophets.... In case we accidentally cause a new Christian Jihad ...

We must first ask ourselves; did the ancient Philosophers actually see themselves as philosophers? Or, were they more akin to YouTubers? People who suddenly found themselves with a platform with which to put their ideas out into the world; and have people listen to them?

What's the connection between them and educators? Ministers? Mathematicians?

Often have people convened, and talked about how they performed their craft. Carpenters, farmers, potters, millers, etc ... It's a modern invention that we look at knowledge as something to be kept secret; dangerous secrets could hurt people, but mostly; secret knowledge is how we maintain our profit margins. (*Cough*Coca-Cola*Cough*)

Those secrets formed the basis of copyrights, patents, and paved the way for the tools of industry to be placed in the hands of the few instead of the many.

And created the modern feude we know as Capitalism vs Socialism.

But what is a prophet?

On the surface, a prophet is a fortune-teller. Somebody who is able to discern the future through divine means. Somebody who says "This is what's gonna happen if we stay on this path" and then later says "See; I told you that would happen. Remember when I said that happened? I called that s*."

But we have modern day prophets and fortune-teller and diviners today. And not just two-bit carni-folk performing a mysticsm show (no offense to carni-folk.) We have people in very important positions whose sole job is to discern what course of action should be taken in order to avoid catastrophy.

Joseph, Jesus, and more perform roles that we now see as "consultants", "comedians", "philosophers", "educators", "medical doctors", "engineers", "politicians", and so much more.

Hell, we even have near accurate weather forecasts these days. Down to the exact area, and second.

Philosophers, like Plato, Socrates, Aristotle, and Pythagoras. they did more than establish thought experiments like "the cave" and create very comedic and enjoyable stories that also teach life lessons.

They taught about language, mathematics, and all but laid the ground work for many of our modern educational systems. K through C.

Today; Comedians also fill roles in politics as advisors and consultants. I'm not gonna name names; they know who they are and some of them will even tell you. (And do so in their routines)

The question we should be asking; is "philosopher" just the title we bestow onto Comedians who have long since died and are remembered for something more than fart jokes and being "edgy"?

We certainly know that the title "Prophet" can only be bestowed by the church, so there must be something similar to being a "Philosopher". Separation of church and state maybe? Or state and populace?

Whatever it is; A philosopher is somebody who is long remembered for the ideals they helped instigate, long past their own earthly demise.

[saintstopsaintquestionsaintshout]

Hey, this’ll be fun- here’s a write-up of a couple… Philosophies(?) my buddy and I came up with during the most degenerate, drug-induced years of our lives!

1. The Real

So, what do you remember from before you were born. That rhetorical- the answer is darkness. And what do you think is gonna be around after you die? You can argue, but our answer? Also darkness. So. This (maybe about sorta) 80 year gap of lights and colors and being alive is in the VAST minority out of all the time between the Big Bang and the heat death of the universe. If this were a statistical model, it would be a VERY extreme outlier, and (generally) it’s kinda taught that outliers shouldn’t be too heavily considered… *Especially* if that outlier is a single point, as opposed to a statistically-irrelevant group. So. What’s more, “really?” Gotcha- that’s rhetorical again- the answer is the darkness. So, when we die and, “go real/go to the real,” that’s a return to normalcy. You could take this either way- our time here is unique and beautiful and should be savored… *or* our time here is fleeting, irrelevant, and meaningless in even the tiniest scale. Not speaking for my buddy, but I was depressed as hell at the time, so I would’ve said the second one.

1.2 The Real (DLC)

Okay, sorry, I lied. See, you don’t *remember* anything before you were born- but if you did, you would remember there is ONE other thing in the darkness…. It’s Fortnite. Yep. Before you were born and after you die there is nothing but an endless void of darkness and a ftp battle royal game.

2. Candle Time

My buddy has decided that the world is too complicated, too messy, too busy- and he has the perfect solution. He WOULD spread his revolutionary idea… but for reasons that will soon be evident, he gave *me* the responsibility of being his prophet. So. Here it is.

What does he need? Three things- a candle, a floor towel, and a gi (specifically, he was taking about the garment worn on Stevie Wonder’s album Talking Book, but I’m not sure that’s actually called a gi but whatever go with it.)

Does he need food? No. Water? No. Where’s this gonna be? Idk man, like a concrete basement/box. Will there be windows? No. Doors? No. What else can you tell me? That’s it dude, it’s just my candle and me, kneeling on my towel, in my gi. Meditating or something. Until you die, of starvation or whatever? Yeah, I guess, maybe the candle will sustain me, I haven’t tried it out yet, dude.

And then he went on to talk about how he needed me to spread the message of his new way, because he obviously couldn’t, because no one would be in his room/box- just him and his candle and his gi. The towel is optional, and not really necessary, actually.

3. Path of the Devoted

Eh, this one came to mean a couple things. Shorter meaning is just- nicotine addiction. Getting buzzed was, “walking the path,” and your journey to… the end of the path. The second meaning is *slightly* more in-depth, but not very different. It was kind of a religious-skinned diagram (or path) of our drug… journey? Experiences? Trouble? Basically think of the structure of the Catholic Church, but instead of moving from priest to bishop to whatever to whatever it was the increased… “hardness,” I guess? Of drugs until you… “ascended.” I think it went something like- nicotine, booze, pot, tussin, Benadryl (don’t ask and don’t try, lmao) shrooms, lsd, e, coke/stimulants in general, and then stuff we didn’t get around to before getting clean. The religious icon of our movement was a disposable vape with something like, “Follow the path,” or just, “Path of the devoted,” sharpied onto it. It’s still around somewhere, actually.

Thats all I remember from the demon days- remember, always be safe and use responsibly. Kids will always be dumb, and will never be convinced to not do something, so at least make sure they know how to do stuff safely. Goodnight.

[the-hem]

"Standards of Beauty in Truth." From the Chandogya Upanishad, the Exploration of the Mysteries of the Priesthood.

Chapter I − Dialogue between Narada and Sanatkumara

1 Om. Narada approached Sanatkumara as a pupil and said: "Venerable Sir, please teach me."

Sanatkumara said to him: "Please tell me what you already know. Then I shall tell you what is beyond."

 2 Narada said:

"Venerable Sir, I know the Rig−Veda, the Yajur−Veda, the Sama−Veda, the Atharva−Veda as the fourth Veda, the epics (Puranas) and ancient lore (Itihasa) as the fifth, the Veda of the Vedas (i.e. grammar), the rules of the sacrifices by which the Manes are gratified, the science of numbers, the science of portents, the science of time, logic, ethics, etymology, Brahma−vidya (i.e. the science of pronunciation, ceremonials, prosody, etc.), the science of elemental spirits, the science of weapons, astronomy, the science of serpents and the fine arts. All this I know, venerable Sir.

3 "But, venerable Sir, with all this I know words only; I do not know the Self. I have heard from men like you that he who knows the Self overcomes sorrow. I am one afflicted with sorrow. Do you, venerable Sir, help me to cross over to the other side of sorrow."

Sanatkumara said to him: "Whatever you have read is only a name.

4 "Verily, a name is the Rig−Veda; so also are the Yajur−Veda, the Sama−Veda, the Atharva−Veda as the fourth Veda, the epics and the ancient lore as the fifth, the Veda of the Vedas, the rules of the sacrifices by which the Manes "mind platforms" are gratified, the science of numbers, the science of portents, the science of time, logic, ethics, etymology, Brahma−vidya, the science of elemental spirits, the science of weapons, astronomy, the science of serpents and the fine arts. "Meditate on the name.

5 "He who meditates on a name as Brahman can, of his own free will, reach as far as the name reaches−he who meditates on a name as Brahman."

Narada said: "Venerable Sir, is there anything greater than a name?"

"Of course there is something greater than a name."

"Please tell that to me, venerable Sir."

Narada was the famous Prophet of the god Brahma. He received the gifts of writing, poetry and musicianship from Brahma, whose Duty it is to inspire new work in these disciplines.

Wherever Narada went, he taught people about the Vedas, the Upanishads inside them, the Puranas (entertaining tales about the gods), and the Mahabharat, the History of India.

Sanatkumara was a demigod, the actual Son of Brahma.

In this section of our Textbook for Priests, we get a privileges glimpse into a Direct Transmission between a god and his Prophet.

Narada says to Sanatkumara, “I have read the Great Works and know their contents well, so please tell me why I am still besieged with sorrow.”

“That is because they alone cannot make you happy. They are just a bunch of names for things. Meditate instead on the Brahman.”

Everyone leaves behind a broken life of some kind in pursuit of perfection. The Upanishads say there are standards religions have for how much residual ugliness we are allowed to leave behind in the pursuit of beauty and perfection:

"...the rules of the sacrifices by which the Manes are gratified, the science of numbers, the science of portents, the science of time, logic, ethics, etymology, Brahma−vidya, the science of elemental spirits, the science of weapons, astronomy, the science of serpents and the fine arts, meditate on the names of these first."

[mwolf0epsilon]

What is everyone's greatest fears and insecurities? (I promise this isn't bully anon and I have no ill intent.)

Going for the big guns uh? Buckle in then, let's see what kind of ammo the Fractos has to work with:

Henry Stein - His anger issues. Henry's childhood and adulthood were fairly turbulent because he's prone to getting fits of rage (an issue that was exacerbated when he was drafted to fight in the second world war). There's never been a moment in his life where he wasn't aware that he can hurt people very easily, and it scares him that this is possibly all he's good at. It's why drawing and gardening meant so much to him... For once he could make something good instead of destroying it...

Sammy Lawrence - That he's a weak-willed follower rather than the master of his own fate, untrustworthy and insignificant. His role as the Prophet disgusts him because it's everything he strived not to be, and the hypocrisy of it all left him questioning his identity and sense of self. What is he if he's not Samuel Lawrence Jr? Can he go back to calling himself that? Or is that just another name he can't ever return to ever again...? Just... Who is he?

Jack Fain - Being unable to protect himself and others, no matter how much he tried to be there for his friends. The sense of insignificance and powerlessness left him fearing that every single one if his efforts is in vain.

Susie Campbell - That she's not good enough. Always second best to someone more talented and beautiful than her. That no matter how hard she tried, she should have just given up and let the world step all over her.

Norman Polk - That he's nothing more than an unwanted and unlovable creepy brute. As a tall bulky man of his age and background, Norman's always had a lot against him. But, even when snapping at people or fighting back just as hard was warranted, he never let himself stoop so low. Becoming the out of control and monstrous Projectionist wounded him deeply...

Allison Pendle - That deep down she's just as selfish and careless as Joey. They got along fine because they had a level of understanding about certain arts they were mutually interested in... Maybe that means she's rotten like him. A danger to others if she ever becomes as jaded as he did...

Thomas Connor - The worst part is the guilt. If he hadn't been complacent to Joey's will to begin with, none of this would have happened. He's stuck in a cycle of grief and what ifs, afraid that he's damned everyone because of his own hubris as a prideful engineer.

Shawn Flynn - His willful ignorance will haunt him forever. He knew something was wrong, but he'd rather ignore it and make a quick buck than actually stop to think. It only struck him that he was in too deep when Grant began to deteriorate, and by then it was too late to stop. If only he hadn't been so selfish and cocky...

Grant Cohen - That he deserves all of this in some twisted terrible way. His life has always been one string of misfortunes after another. Maybe he was a bad person in another life. Maybe he didn't show enough people kindness in this one... Maybe he's just destined to suffer. He's always been and always will be unable to save himself...

Buddy Lewek - That he's too weak and cowardly to be of any help. Everyone has been doing so much to keep him safe, and he doesn't have the strength to do the same for them. He feels guilty about it, but he just... He just can't... He's afraid and he wants to go home. He wants his mom... And he feels bad that he's this pathetic when his friends need him most.

Abby Lambert - Regret, guilt, sorrow... She knows them all to well. Most of all she knows hatred the best... She hates that she was so bad a judge of character that she couldn't see just how bad things got. Just how far Joey would take it... She was blind to it all because she considered him a friend, and she'll never forgive herself or him for it...

Doc Hackenbush - That he didn't leave when he could have. He was aware and against the results of the experiments, but he was also curious. Morbidly so. He could have helped stop all of this before it got to this point... But instead chose to stay quiet. A choice that will haunt him forever.

Bertrum Piedmont - That he'd been too proud to realize he was digging himself and Lacie an early grave. What hurts most now isn't even the state he's in... It's that he damned his closest friend to this terrible fate as well...

Lacie Benton - That she couldn't convince Bertrum to not accept a contract with Joey. She knew something was off with the man... She just couldn't imagine this being how it ended... Feels like she failed her dearest friend.

Emma LaMonte - Her biggest regret is not telling her family how much she appreciated them. She'd been a stuck-up unpleasant and difficult lady all her life and now... She fears she'll never have a chance to make amends.

Detective Sinclair - That he failed Joey in some way, thus made him more prone to becoming less interested in being a law abiding citizen. He knows that something broke when he failed that case... That somehow he taught that young and impressionable puppy-eyed boy that justice only matters as long as you're caught... He's a failure of a detective and all of this is his fault...

The Ink Demon - That his imperfections are the reason everyone is suffering. That he's not good enough to deserve to live. That he's a monster that taints everything he touches... The list goes on...

[hxlyhead-harpies]

Ivy (R.L.)

Evermore

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader

Summary: The reader is trapped in a loveless and neglectful arranged marriage. She hires her old school crush, Remus Lupin, to tutor her son

Warnings: Alcohol, mentions of abuse, the reader is a mother, cheating, angst

Word Count: 4.9k

A/n: i am actually so so proud of this so um i hope you like it

Your life was nothing but a monotonous cycle of sameness, every day identical to the one before. Every day you awoke to a cold and empty bed, your silk sheets barren of who should be a loving husband. And every day you sat by your bay window with a cup of tea, leaving it unsipped until it became cold. You watched your son stumble around the manor, his tiny legs still clumsy like a newborn foal. You painted or read to bide your time, hoping to make the long hours go faster, but they never did. Nearly six years of this routine but no part of you longed to break free from it. 

You had been bred for this life since you had sprung into existence. You came from a prominent pureblood family and you were taught your place early on. You were to be silent and polite and you must not speak unless spoken to. It didn’t matter your intelligence or wit, you were nothing but a commodity with good posture and acceptable table manners. You were a pawn in your father’s chess game, something to be used for business deals and backdoor dealings. Your existence was for the purpose of your father’s advancement in pureblood society and nothing more. 

For a while you had wanted more, to be free and to have agency and choice. Back when you were in school you were exposed to ideas beyond blood supremacy and submission. You let yourself dream of a life away from your family and their ideals, where you could have your own free thought and you could love whom you chose, but the fantasy didn’t last much longer than your third year. 

When you had dared to voice your opinions one day during the summer holiday you were swiftly met with the back of your father’s hand. Your life quickly began to consist of long sleeve jumpers to conceal bruises and nights where your supper was withheld. You quickly resigned to the life you had always been told you’d have. 

You thought about running away and starting a new life away from the toxicity that oozed from the windows of your childhood home. But you were often reminded of what happened to daughters who disobeyed; you’d be subjected to a life of destitution.

So you did as you were told, obliging to the word of your father and keeping your head down. Of course, you still held your own ideas close to your heart; you didn’t believe in the sickening rhetoric that was blood supremacy, but you couldn’t tell anyone that for the sake of your safety. 

You were seventeen when you had gotten betrothed to Humphrey. It was your seventh year at Hogwarts and you had gotten a letter in mid-march informing you of your own engagement. He was your father’s business partner and eleven years your senior. He was cold and serious. Something about the way he had a perpetually raised brow and a scowl made your stomach drop. You had cried yourself to sleep that night, any remnants of your fantasy finally shattering in the clutches of your fiance. 

And now here you sat, six years later, your cup of tea cooling in your hands as your son asked questions you didn’t know the answer to. Every young wizard went through this phase, wondering why the lights would flicker when they were angry or why sometimes they could do things that they didn’t understand. Your son knew that he was a wizard, but his young mind couldn’t quite grasp what that meant. When you were his age, you had a governess who explained these things to you as well as taught you other things like basic arithmetic and history. You desperately wished that you could find someone, maybe a tutor, who could teach your son. 

Your child, Montgomery, was inquisitive and wild. He was named after his great uncle but detested the name, preferring to be playfully called Monty instead. He was born to be the picture of a perfect pureblood son, but he was wild and untamed no matter how hard you tried. You were afraid of how his father would treat him as he grew, and you were desperate to temper him.

That night at dinner you sat at the head of the table, Monty next to you, and your husband at the other end. It often felt as if there was an impossible distance between the two of you, a distance that could never be crossed. You rarely truly felt like his wife, usually only feeling like an employee in your own home. You poked at your meal for a while, chiding your son to eat his vegetables. In the darkness that shrouded your home, Monty was your only source of light. If you were to go on like this it would be for him. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself to raise the question. 

“Would it be alright if we hired a tutor for Monty?” you asked, “I had one when I was his age and I just think that it would be the proper thing to do.” Humphrey sighed and placed down his spoon, it clanking harshly against the rim of his bowl.

“Montgomery,” he corrected harshly. You swallowed thickly and nodded, avoiding his gaze. “And I suppose it would be a good idea,” he said, “We want him to be top of his class when he arrives at Hogwarts.” You nodded quickly, knowing that agreeing with him was the fastest way to get what you wanted. Humphrey thought for a moment before resuming his dinner. 

“You can pick out his tutor, just inform me when his lessons have started,” he said before going back to ignoring your presence. A sense of pride filled you at his words; it was rare you ever had a say in any of the decisions made around the house and the prospect of having a voice sent a shock of happiness down your spine. This single act of agency was not real freedom, but you would revel in pretending that it was. 

You sifted through ads in the Prophet and inquired with other mothers. You were hesitant to call them your friends as they held the same ideals as your husband, but they were the women you’d be forced to have tea with during business meetings. None of the names that came up seemed quite right. As a last resort, you sent an owl to your old professor, Professor McGonagall. She had been your favorite teacher back at school and you still kept in touch occasionally. When you were a teenager McGonagall tried relentlessly to help you see your potential, but you just brushed her off, knowing that you’d never be allowed to have a career once you were married. 

McGonagall’s response was swift, an owl knocking on the library window only a few hours later. 

The letter opened with her usual greeting, her insistence that you call her Minerva and not Professor. She offered up a name that made you pause. 

Remus Lupin. You could understand why she would suggest this name. He had been top of your class in school and a prefect. He had even tutored you once and had proven himself to be quite the teacher. You knew he was more than capable but his name still caused you to pause.

You had been absolutely infatuated with Remus when you were an awkward sixteen year old. He was handsome and smart and he was nothing short of gentle when he spent late nights in the library trying to teach you astronomy. Something about his hazel eyes and boyish smile had made your heart pound in your ears and your palms sweaty. But you never let yourself dwell on your feelings too much; you knew you’d be married shortly after you graduated and your father would not take too kindly to you dating anyone, especially a halfblood. So you had pushed the feelings aside and forced yourself to forget. Yet here you were, years later, and the shape of his name still caused butterflies to erupt in your stomach. 

You wanted so desperately to write back to Minerva and ask for his address, to send him a letter requesting his services, and to let him into your home. But you were afraid of what would happen if you did. You had spent so long trying to push away the stirrings in the back of your mind and ignore any inkling of restlessness. You feared that welcoming this man into your house would only ignite these feelings to a point where you couldn’t avoid them anymore.

But still, Monty needed a tutor and you knew that Remus Lupin was a damn good one. You sent an owl to Minerva asking how to contact him. 

The first day the Remus was meant to come to your house you were a ball of nerves. Monty was excited, yearning to learn and to meet this new person. But you were anxious about seeing him after all these years. You couldn’t be sure that he even remembered you. His time tutoring you had been brief, though you held that short time together close to your heart. 

You found yourself putting on your favorite clothes, feeling desperate to put up a good front, hoping the clothes would mask your unhappiness. The cream shirt and long navy shirt helped you play the role of a doting wife well, just old fashioned enough to make most believe that you agreed with this life. You tied back your hair with a silk ribbon before heading down to the front hall. You had nothing better to do than wait for him.

A heavy knock finally filled the empty halls of your home signaling you to his arrival. You called out for Monty before you walked to the door and opened it gently. 

You shyly looked around the edge of the door, meeting his eyes. It took everything in you to suppress some sort of physical reaction as you took in his appearance. The years had surely treated him well. His hair was longer now, curlier too, and his freckled skin adorned a few new scars. It was snowing lightly outside and snowflakes sat in his bronze curls. But his hazel eyes still shone at you warmly, and his small smile was familiar and dimpled. He looked older of course, slightly taller and with broader shoulders. He was wearing a beige shirt and a dark tie, a satchel slung over his shoulder, and a stack of books under his arm. 

You opened the door wider to allow him inside. “Hello, Mr. Lupin, I’m so glad you could make it,” you said softly, sticking out your hand. He quirked up an eyebrow and adjusted the books before reaching out his hand. His hands were cold and calloused as he placed his hand in yours, the contact sending a wave of warmth through your body. 

“You can call me Remus,” he said with an amused smile, “No need for the formality, it’s not like we haven’t met before.” You laughed softly at his comment, reluctantly pulling your hand away. 

“Of course, I wasn’t sure if you remembered,” you admitted, “May I take your coat?” Remus chuckled before shrugging off his jacket and handing it to you. 

“How could I forget, charms was it?” he asked. You flushed at his comment but hid it by turning to place his coat in the closet on your right. 

“Astronomy,” you corrected. He hummed affirmatively before rocking back and forth on his heels. You composed yourself quickly before you turned back to him. “Let me show you the library,” you said finally. 

The two of you walked down the hall in silence as you made your way to the room you spent most of your time in. You heard him gasp as you pushed open the mahogany doors. The room was magnificent; books lining every wall from floor to ceiling. Your precious bay window let in natural light and the plush carpet muddled your steps as you walked in. There was a table by the window which you had designated for Remus’s lessons. You had placed some books, quills and parchment, and a globe on the surface. 

Remus’s mouth was wide as he took in the room. You shuffled awkwardly towards the table and his eyes finally landed on it. 

“I wasn’t sure what you needed so I just found a few things,” you said, gesturing to the makeshift desk. He gave you that lopsided smile again and your stomach erupted with butterflies. 

“It’s perfect, thank you,” he said. You felt yourself smile widely as you wrung your hands. Since you had gotten married it was rare that you received a compliment. Even as small and insignificant as his words were, you felt the warm caress of approval anyway.

Before you could say anything else Monty tumbled into the room. His shirt was rumpled and messy, half of it untucked. His hair was wild and his cheeks were red. It was clear that he had gotten into some sort of mischief before heading to the library. He barreled towards you and hugged your legs. 

“Hello dear,” you said affectionately, unable to contain the smile on your face as you smoothed down his hair. 

“Mum you will not believe what I found in the garden,” he said breathily, a gleam in his eye. You raised your eyebrows at him.

“You’ll have to tell me later, Mr. Lupin is here,” you said, nodding towards the man. Monty turned towards his tutor and smiled shyly, hiding behind your legs slightly. It was rare that he met new people as he spent most of his days cooped up at home. Remus didn’t seem phased by his shyness, only stepping closer and bending down slightly.

“Hi, Montgomery is it?” he asked softly, offering his hand for Monty to shake. He shook his head furiously before putting his tiny hand in Remus’s.

“My name is Monty,” he said proudly, giving Remus a firm handshake. Remus smiled brilliantly. 

“Okay Monty, you can call me Remus,” he replied. Monty slowly detached himself from your legs, heading towards the table with Remus. He smiled as he hopped up on his chair and spun the globe. You smiled as you watched them interact, Remus ever so gentle and warm. 

“Do you mind if I stay?” you asked suddenly. Remus looked up with raised eyebrows. “I’ll be quiet,” you promised, “I’ll just be reading.” You gestured towards the spot where you usually read. Remus smiled and nodded. You made yourself comfortable and opened your book. But you couldn’t quite focus on the words, your attention captivated only by Remus. 

That night you laid awake next to Humphrey, unable to sleep. Your mind was busy replaying every moment that Remus had been in your house. How enthusiastic he was about teaching and how tenderly he’d answer Monty’s questions. You thought of how he’d look over Monty’s head and give you a goofy smile when Monty would innocently ask a funny question and how he gave you a lingering handshake when he had left. 

Watching Remus teach became how you passed your hours away. You finally indulged yourself and wondered what it would be like if he felt the same as you. You often found yourself imagining a life where you ran away together, stealing Monty away from the virulent environment of your life. You imagined that you’d move to the city, somewhere near the friends he spoke of so fondly, or away to the countryside in a small cottage. Of course, the fantasy was dashed every time he left and you were once again left in your solitude, waiting for your husband to come home and ignore you as usual. You grieved for the relationship that could never be and the life you could never have.

You felt trapped, a feeling you had been trying to suppress for years. But you were married, a binding and final contract, so there was nothing for you to do. It was as if you were a Rapunzel, waiting in her tower. Only your prince never came to save you. Instead, he was your captor and key keeper. 

Your favorite part of your day soon became the stolen minutes before lessons began and the fleeting seconds after they ended. That was when you could be alone with Remus, learning more about him through menial questions in the name of small talk. He was just as sarcastic and full of wit as you remembered, though there was a certain level of softness that hadn’t been present before. 

Every day, as he left you, shook hands, a task that was most likely no longer necessary, but you loved the feeling of your hand in his. Every time your palms touched you wished that he was taking your hand because he wanted to, not just as a formality. 

Remus’s mere existence consumed you, leaving you yearning for every inch of his mind and soul. Your thoughts were full of his smile and his beautiful eyes. You dreamed of running your hands through his hair and resting your head on his chest. You felt yourself falling in love with him slowly and it terrified you. But there was nothing you could do to stop it. It was as if he had planted himself in your mind, the vines of his ivy covering you completely, overrunning your mind, body, and soul. 

About a month into his teaching you arranged a meeting to discuss Monty’s progress. Remus had readily agreed and he appeared at your doorstep promptly. Humphrey was supposed to attend the meeting but he had been pulled away on business. Or at least that was what he told you. Often times when he was away for work he’d come home smelling of another woman. 

You sat in your husband’s office, just you and Remus. The lighting was dim and your breath was quickly becoming bated because suddenly, you weren’t so sure if you had been imagining the tension between the two of you. He fidgeted in the seat across from you, staring at you with those alluring hazel eyes. They were the type of hazel right between green and brown, the perfect sweet spot that made them appear almost yellow. You looked away quickly and cleared your throat. 

“So how is Monty doing?” you asked, placing your hands neatly in your lap. Remus smiled and ran a hand through his hair.

“He’s doing wonderful,” Remus said proudly, “He’s quite inquisitive. He wants to know everything about everything.” You let out a breathy laugh and nodded.

“Yes, he used to bombard me with questions before you started teaching him,” you admitted, “I couldn’t answer half of them.” Remus laughed this time and shifted in his seat, leaning slightly further over the desk.

“I’m sure you had no problem answering. I was honestly surprised when you sent me the letter, I would have assumed that you were teaching him yourself,” he said, “You were always so smart back in school.” You flushed and shook your head. 

“Do you not remember how you had to save me from failing astronomy,” you answered teasingly, the banter between you flowing easily. Remus pulled back and raised an eyebrow at you. 

“If I remember correctly, it never seemed like you needed much help,” he said. You felt your face heat up. In all honesty, you hadn’t needed help with astronomy. You had just wanted to be close to Remus and that was the only way you had known how. 

“No, I needed the help,” you chided, “You just happened to be an excellent teacher.” Remus met your praise with that boyish smile you had fallen for. The two of you fell into easy conversation after that, forgetting your purpose for the meeting in the first place. You knew that you were entering dangerous territory but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

That night as he left you walked him to the door. 

“Thank you for meeting with me,” you said softly, a hint of a joke behind your eyes. Remus nodded with a smile, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Of course,” he said softly, “Goodnight.” His eyes were rounded and earnest, sending the beating of your heart into overdrive. As he turned to leave you found yourself grabbing his sleeve and turning him around. You were unsure of what your intention was but suddenly he was standing so close, his eyes roaming your face and your breath mixing with his. The two of you stood like that for a moment, staring at each other. Finally, you pulled back slightly, diffusing the tension.

“Goodnight,” you whispered back, your voice slightly hoarse. Remus swallowed thickly, before nodding and leaving quickly. 

The next time he came over for a session the two of you acted as if nothing happened. You hoped that this was because you were under the watchful eye of your husband and not because he didn’t return your affections. You worried the entire time that you observed the lesson, chewing at the inside of your cheek. He didn’t even spare you a glance the entire lesson.

Once he and Monty were done you walked him to the door, as usual, dread settling in your stomach. You worried that you had ruined everything. But when you reached the door and slipped your hand in his for your usual handshake, he surprised you by lifting your hand up and pressing a kiss to the back of it. 

Your life soon became waiting for stolen moments with Remus. Tentatively tangling fingers in a hallway before Monty rumbled down the stairs. There was so much you learned about him, but you could tell there was something he was holding back. There was an ever-present sadness in his eyes that made your heart break. He seemed cursed, as if there was something dark lurking underneath the surface. But he never shared too much with you. 

You scheduled your next meeting several weeks later and you waited for it impatiently, longing for moments alone with the man whom you loved. But unfortunately, luck was not on your side. Humphrey, who was supposed to be busy, had decided to join you. So he sat in the big chair while you stood behind him, your head down and your hands clasped behind your back. 

Remus sat uncomfortably in his chair, sneaking glances at you when your husband wasn’t looking. You were aware of how submissive and deferential you must have looked. You had never wanted Remus to see you like this, to see how truly trapped you were. You were afraid he’d pull away and realize that loving you was futile as you had no way to escape the shackles of your marriage. You longed to look into those hazel eyes and pretend that everything would be alright. But instead, your husband placed a rough hand on your arm and told you that it was time for the men to talk. 

You sat in the library and worried, afraid that Humphrey had somehow found out and was trying to confront Remus. But truly, what was there to find out? All there had been were lingering gazes and grazing touches of hands. You hadn’t dared to kiss him or even make it known how you felt. 

But when the meeting was over you watched Humphrey give Remus a cordial handshake and thank him for his services. Remus glanced at you for a split second, but his gaze quickly moved past you as if you weren’t even there. 

You feared that everything had been ruined. That he’d realize that you were too broken and too chained to be loved. But the next moment you had alone with him, he pulled you into a bone-crushing hug, the most contact the two of you had ever shared.

“He can’t treat you like that,” he murmured into your hair. You let out a shaky breath, holding back tears, and pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder. 

“He’s my husband, that’s how it’s supposed to be,” you replied. Remus pulled back and cupped your face. 

“No, it’s not. You deserve to be loved, not manhandled,” he said, his voice filled with a soft determination. You smiled sadly at him. 

“That’s how it’s supposed to be for women like me,” you said softly. Remus leaned forward and pressed his forehead against yours.

“He’s not worthy of you,” he whispered. You closed your eyes and sighed. 

“I don’t have a choice. I never did,” you murmured. 

Tentatively, Remus pressed his lips against yours. The kiss started out soft, his chapped lips moving gently against yours. Your mind was spinning and your legs went weak, this moment feeling like a dream. The way his hand was in your hair, cradling your head, and the way your body was flushed against his felt like something out of a fantasy. But soon, the kiss became more heated and more desperate, Remus’s lips pressed harshly against your mouth. When he finally pulled away you were breathless and dizzy, wishing that you could grab him by the collar and pull him back down. 

“You always have a choice,” he said, his voice gravelly as he whispered in your ear. And with that, he detached himself from your embrace and entered the library. 

As winter slowly turned to spring you spent every waking moment thinking of Remus and how you wished you could be with him instead. Your secret meetings became more frequent, filled with desperate kisses and unspoken confessions. The words often burned at the back of your throat, begging to escape and profess your feelings. You desperately wanted to tell him that you were irrevocably in love with him and you longed to know if he felt the same. But you knew that once those words spilled from your lips you could never take them back and things could never stay the same. But suddenly, you wished that things would finally change. 

You were often kept up at night with the fear that Humphrey would find out. That he’d catch a quick kiss in a darkened hallway or finally notice how Remus’s eyes lingered on you. You knew that if he found out you’d be on the receiving end of some unspeakable punishment. But you feared not only for your safety but the safety of your love as well. Humphrey was a scary man when he was angry, and you dreaded what your husband would do to Remus. 

On a brisk spring night, you sat in the study with Remus, an open bottle of wine on the desk. Humphrey was away on business so you took it upon yourself to schedule another “meeting” with Remus. He now sat at the desk and you stood between his legs, a bright smile stretched across your face. You sipped from your glass, reveling in the taste. It was an expensive bottle that Humphrey had imported from France and you knew that you weren’t supposed to drink it. 

Remus’s hand was settled on your hip as you talked, your faces so close that your lips almost touched as you spoke. You longed for moments like these, where you could bask in his affections unashamedly, without fearing getting caught. 

He brushed a stray hand of hair from your face and you suddenly became more somber, desperately staring into his eyes, your lip trembling slightly. His eyes furrowed as he sensed your mood change. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked softly. 

“Take me away from this place,” you pleaded, “Please.” Remus let out a trembling breath, his expression falling into one similar to yours. 

“You know that I can’t,” he whispered. You shook your head frantically, clutching the front of his shirt in your fists. 

“Yes, you can,” you said, “You, me, and Monty, we can all run away together.” Remus shook his head and looked away.

”No, we can’t,” he breathed. You felt tears pool in your eyes as you tried to convince him.

“Yes, we can! Monty adores you and I-” you took a deep breath, “and I love you.” You looked at him defiantly and unflinching, never surer of any statement in your life. Remus froze and stared at you, his mouth agape. 

“You don’t love me, you can’t,” he replied. 

“I do Remus,” you said softly, your grip on his clothes loosening. 

“You can’t. I’m poor and I’m-” he paused, seemingly trying to gather his words. “I’m ill,” he finally settled upon, “I can’t take care of you.” You cupped his cheek and shook your head. 

“I don’t care about any of that,” you whispered, “And you’d take far better care of me than he does. You already do.” Remus sighed before pressing a burning kiss to your lips. 

“When does Humphrey get back?” he asked as he pulled back. 

“Two days,” you answered. Remus closed his eyes, mulling something over. He finally leaned over, kissing your forehead lightly before speaking. 

“Go pack your bags,” he whispered. You smiled at him before turning to leave the room, ready to grab your and Monty’s essentials. But before you could leave he grabbed your sleeve, spinning you around to face him. Your faces were so close you could feel his breath fan across your face. 

“I love you,” he murmured softly. You simply smiled before grabbing your bags and gently waking Monty, preparing to break out of the tower that confined you. Ready to live the life you had always wanted with the man that you loved.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[the-shoemaker-report]

A Nation That Will Dwell in Solitude

In the past two issues, we wrote about the importance of waking up and getting out of bed at midnight. We focused on two tasks and their accompanying benefits: (1) by learning Torah after midnight, we draw down a thread of chesed throughout the day, and (2) by reciting Tikkun Chatzot, we help raise the Shechinah from the dirt, helping to merit in the rebuilding of the Holy Temple and ushering in the final redemption. In this issue, we will add a third important reason why we should wake up and get out of bed while it is still night.

We are all familiar with the story of Balak hiring the prophet Bilaam to curse the Nation of Yisrael. But every time Bilaam opened his mouth, he praised them instead of cursing them, for example (Bemidbar 23:9): כִּי־מֵרֹאשׁ צֻרִים אֶרְאֶנּוּ וּמִגְּבָעוֹת אֲשׁוּרֶנּוּ הֶן־עָם לְבָדָד יִשְׁכֹּן וּבַגּוֹיִם לֹא יִתְחַשָּׁב (For I see it from the top of the rocks, and from the hills I observe it. Behold! It is a nation that will dwell in solitude, and it will not be considered among the [other] nations). What is the meaning of ‘a nation that will dwell in solitude’? And why is this statement one of praise? Although introverts readily appreciate the benefit of being alone, a highly extroverted individual might actually dread it! So how is being alone something praiseworthy for everyone, for the entire nation?

Lamenting why so much suffering and tragedies befall the Jewish People, the Chofetz Chaim writes (Likutei Amarim 10): ולא יסתפק אדם במה שמתפלל השמונה-עשרה שלש פעמים בכל יום, אלא כמה פעמים ביום צריך לשפוך תפילות ובקשות בינו לבין עצמו כשהוא בביתו מעומקא דליבא .כי השלש תפילות הן אצלו כבר שגורות בפיו ואינו נותן לב להם כל כך; מה שאי כן אם יתבונן כל אדם בינו לבין עצמו ויעשה חשבון נפש על מצבו ומעמדו (A person should not be satisfied with the three times he prays the Shemoneh Esrei each day; rather, many times throughout the day he needs to pour out his prayers and requests, privately, by himself, when [for example] he’s in his house, from the depth of his heart, because his mouth is already accustomed to saying the three [formal] prayers, and as a result, he doesn’t pay attention to them all that much. But that’s not the case if everyone were to be introspective and do a cheshbon nefesh [personal examination] on his situation and his standing in life). He continues to explain that we are not answered in our three regular daily prayers because we don’t pour out of heart to Hashem when we pray. Instead, we’re praying like a machine. Plug it in, set the speed dial to ‘rapid’, push the ‘start’ button and away it goes. If we spoke to our friend or spouse that way, do you think they would be particularly interested in listening to what we had to say? Likewise, do you really think Hashem is any different in this regard?

The Chofetz Chaim is speaking about the need for everyone to spend time each day—even throughout the day—praying to Hashem in one’s own words, a practice known as hitbodedut [private, secluded prayer].

R' Nachman taught (Likutei Moharan II:25): הַהִתְבּוֹדְדוּת הוּא מַעֲלָה עֶלְיוֹנָה וּגְדוֹלָה מִן הַכֹּל דְּהַיְנוּ לִקְבֹּעַ לוֹ עַל־כָּל־פָּנִים שָׁעָה אוֹ יוֹתֵר לְהִתְבּוֹדֵד לְבַדּוֹ בְּאֵיזֶה חֶדֶר אוֹ בַּשָּׂדֶה וּלְפָרֵשׁ שִׂיחָתוֹ בֵּינוֹ לְבֵין קוֹנוֹ...שֶׁיְּקָרְבוֹ אֵלָיו לַעֲבוֹדָתוֹ בֶּאֱמֶת (The practice of doing hitbodedut is very exalted and greater than everything, i.e. to fix a time for oneself, at least one hour or more, to seclude oneself alone in some room or in the field, to lay out one’s conversation in private with one’s Creator…that he would be able to draw closer to Him and serve Him in truth). It doesn’t make any difference if we feel that we are already close to Hashem or if we feel that we are too far from Him to be of importance or if we can’t even open up our mouths to say anything, the main point is to spend time in solitude knowing that you’re sitting with Hashem. This in and of itself is very, very good. In fact, there is nothing greater than this.

Regarding the best time and place for hitbodedut, we read in Likutei Eitzot, Hitbodedut 7: עִקַּר הַהִתְבּוֹדְדוּת הוּא בַּלַּיְלָה שֶׁאָז הַכֹּל יְשֵׁנִים וְגַם טוֹב שֶׁיִּהְיֶה הַמָּקוֹם חוּץ מֵהָעִיר שֶׁיֵּלֵךְ בְּדֶרֶךְ יְחִידִי דְּהַיְנוּ בְּמָקוֹם שֶׁאֵין בְּנֵי אָדָם הוֹלְכִים שָׁם אֲפִלּוּ בַּיּוֹם (The essence of hitbodedut is at night because then everyone is asleep, and it is also good that he should be in a place outside the city, that he walk to a solitary place, i.e. a place where even by day people don’t go). The reasons for this are because the quietness of night is the best time for obtaining clarity about oneself because the cares of the world are decreased. Although these parameters are optimal if one is able to fulfill them, they should never prevent someone from spending his hour of hitbodedut during the day in a room of his house if that works for him. The main point is to spend one interrupted hour alone with Hashem, each and every day. Once you get used to this hour, it should become the best hour of your day.

But what is the real purpose of hitbodedut? Is it to tell Hashem all the things we need or want in life, to make our requests known to Him—“I need a good spouse. I need a nice apartment. I need a high paying job. I need…”? No. That’s the purpose (in part) of the Shemoneh Esrei. The purpose of hitbodedut is something completely different. Simply put, it is to work on oneself, to fix one’s deficiencies and faults, to achieve self-nullification, thus becoming part of the necessary reality. Let’s explain.

Two kinds of realities exist: necessary reality and dependent reality. Hashem, of course, is the ultimate and only necessary reality. Everything created in all the worlds is just a dependent reality. None of it must exist. All of it came into existence by the Creator who spoke it into existence, as it is written (Tehillim 33:6, 9): בִּדְבַר יְיָ שָׁמַיִם נַעֲשׂוּ וּבְרוּחַ פִּיו כׇּל־צְבָאָם...כִּי הוּא אָמַר וַיֶּהִי הוּא־צִוָּה וַיַּעֲמֹד (By the word of Hashem heaven was made, and by the breath of His mouth, all of their host…He spoke and it was, He commanded and it stands). The moment Hashem created the soul of Adam ha‑Rishon to have free will to choose and to do His will, reality changed. All of the created worlds acquired a certain aspect of the necessary reality, i.e. all the upper and lower worlds need to exist in order for Hashem’s purpose to be fulfilled. And what is that purpose? It is to return and be encompassed in one’s Source, in the only true, independent necessary reality. This is all explained in detail by R' Nachman in L.M. 52, but here’s a short summary: וְעַל־כֵּן אָז דַּיְקָא כְּשֶׁעוֹשִׂין רְצוֹנוֹ נִכְלָל הָעוֹלָם בִּבְחִינַת מְחֻיַּב הַמְּצִיאוּת כַּנַּ"ל כִּי כָּל מַה שֶּׁעוֹשִׂין רְצוֹנוֹ יוֹתֵר הֵם נִכְלָלִין בְּיוֹתֵר עִם כָּל הָעוֹלָמוֹת הַתְּלוּיִים בָּהֶם בְּחִיּוּב הַמְּצִיאוּת (Therefore, it is specifically then, when we [the inheritors of the mission and soul of Adam ha‑Rishon, i.e. Yisrael] do His will, that the world is included in an aspect of the necessary reality, for the more we do His will, the more we are included together with the worlds which are dependent upon them, in the necessary reality).

This is really an amazing and awesome truth! Even though the world and everything in it, including ourselves ‘start off’ as a dependent reality in that everything is created by Hashem and has no independent existence in and of itself, when the object and purpose of His creation actually perform the will of its Creator, then not only do all the worlds acquire a certain aspect of the necessary reality but, more importantly, the people who perform His will also acquire a certain aspect of the necessary reality. And it is a matter of degree. The more we do Hashem’s will, the more we are encompassed in His Oneness, and the more the world and everything in it, including ourselves, become part of this same necessary reality.

Now the logical question is: How do we actually achieve becoming encompassed in one’s Source so that we move from being a dependent reality to being a part of the necessary reality? R' Nachman explains (L.M. 52): אַךְ לִזְכּוֹת לָזֶה לְהִכָּלֵל בְּשָׁרְשׁוֹ דְּהַיְנוּ לַחֲזֹר וּלְהִכָּלֵל בְּאַחְדוּת הַשֵּׁם יִתְבָּרַךְ שֶׁהוּא מְחֻיַּב הַמְּצִיאוּת זֶה אִי אֶפְשָׁר לִזְכּוֹת כִּי־אִם עַל־יְדֵי בִּטּוּל שֶׁיְּבַטֵּל עַצְמוֹ לְגַמְרֵי עַד שֶׁיִּהְיֶה נִכְלָל בְּאַחְדוּתוֹ יִתְבָּרַךְ (However, to merit this, to be encompassed in one’s Source, i.e. to return and be encompassed in the Oneness of Hashem, may He be blessed, who is the necessary reality, is possible only through bitul [self-nullification]. A person needs to nullify himself completely to the point that he becomes encompassed in His Oneness, may He be blessed).

Self-nullification? That seems a bit drastic, if not kind of weird. What does it really mean? Bitul means to negate all of one’s negative character traits and all of one’s physical desires and lusts—anger, impatience, theft, stinginess, harboring grudges, jealousy, laziness, selfishness, stubbornness, ungratefulness, speaking negatively about others, self-justification, lying, lusting after food and drink, lewdness, feasting one’s eyes on that which is forbidden to look at, immodesty, desire for honor and prestige, love of money, arrogance, lack of emunah and bitachon, etc. But isn’t that impossible? R' Nachman assures us that it is very achievable, not just by the tzaddikim, but by all of us. How so? These are his holy words (L.M. 52): וְאִי אֶפְשָׁר לָבוֹא לִידֵי בִּטּוּל כִּי־אִם עַל־יְדֵי הִתְבּוֹדְדוּת (It is impossible to achieve bitul except through hitbodedut). This is the real reason for hitbodedut. It is the most powerful tool available for fixing ourselves. Reading self-help books, listening to lectures and inspirational talks, reading articles (like this one), or even talking to therapists may be fine and dandy, but that will not get us to the goal of our lives, which is to return to our Source and become encompassed in the Infinite for eternity.

But it seems so overwhelming! Perhaps, but that’s why we were given life in the first place, to achieve that which seems so impossible. After all, is anything truly impossible with G‑d? Can He not help us achieve the impossible if we really want it? But we have to be honest. We can’t go into hitbodedut and pretend. The moment we walk out into that field or close that door, we have to be real. We have to speak only truth. Nothing gets fixed without truth. We start with one negative trait and we keep talking to Hashem about it night after night until we negate it. It may take years of concerted effort, but all sincere effort will be rewarded. And when we nullify one negative trait, we move onto the next one, and so on, until we nullify them all. At that point there will be nothing left of us. We will have achieved complete bitul and become nothing, i.e. no-thing—even as Hashem is ‘No-thing’. This is how we prepare for becoming merged into the Eternal Infinite, to be fully encompassed in the necessary reality even as Hashem is the necessary reality.

May G‑d give us strength to be what we were destined to be, a nation that dwells in solitude (not because of government coercion, but voluntarily), each one of us becoming an expert at hitbodedut and achieving his true mission in life.

[goodlucktai]

Prompt 33 just screams protective nishimura so could you write that please and thankyou 🌸

PROMPTS LIST

33. “Are you SURE I can’t punch him in the face?” “Yes.” “What if I just break his nose a little?”

i got several requests for this one, specifically with nishimura (and a few, even more specifically, with nishinatsu). you guys really know my brand 😌🌼

x

Kitamoto warned him, but Tanuma was still unprepared.

He's got one arm looped around Natsume's shoulders, something that happened almost entirely involuntarily, and the other is clutching Nyanko-sensei against his chest because the cat's ears are lying back and his claws are pricking through Tanuma's sleeve in an alarming way.

This leaves no hands free to corral Nishimura, and Tanuma thinks he's going to need about three more to do that anyway.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Nishimura is raging, too loud, attracting eyes from all directions. "Who the-- who do you-- who are you? The prime minister? Is this your private property? Do you own this park?"

The unfamiliar boy they bumped into is nearly a head taller than Nishimura but he seems almost cowed by him-- appropriately so, Tanuma thinks fairly, because if he were on the receiving end of this tirade, in a public space, he probably would have started crying by now. An honest assessment.

"I'm asking who you are," Nishimura all but shouts, when the boy in front of him takes more than one second to respond. "What is your name? Do you have an identity?"

"I'm-- my name is Yoshida. I know the fr-- the guy behind you. We were classmates. That's all."

"Oh, is that all," Nishimura says. It's clearly not all.

Yoshida's eyes flick past Nishimura, just for a second, but it's enough to make Natsume twitch. Tanuma doesn't miss it, since Natsume is still tucked snugly beneath his arm. Nishimura doesn't miss it either, because Nishimura is in this heightened state of pissed off that Tanuma has never witnessed before.

He snaps his fingers, says, "What's wrong with you? Don't you know it's rude not to look at someone when they're talking to you?"

It's amazing he doesn't choke on that piece of hypocrisy.

"So you used to know Natsume or whatever, and somehow, in your mind, that translates to... literally attacking him out of nowhere?"

"Nishimura," Natsume says. It's the tone of someone burdened with an impossible task, like stopping a runaway train before it crashes with nothing but his bare hands and hopeful intentions. "He didn't attack me."

Nishimura whirls around and points at him (rudely). "You be quiet! He attacked you!"

"He pushed me. I fell down. That's not an attack."

"That's literally assault! That's-- " He pats at his pockets, clearly looking for the cellphone that he shoved into Tanuma's bag two hours ago, after it died taking roughly one million pictures of the cat at the train station. "Tanuma, Google the Penal Code!"

"I'm not going to do that," Tanuma says gently.

Kitamoto did warn him. He wanted to stay home with his dad this weekend, and urged them to go visit Yuuki without him, but the second the others were distracted, he snagged Tanuma by the sleeve and drew him aside.

"I won't be there, so if something happens, it's up to you," he said. His tone was so serious and grave that for a second Tanuma thought they were talking about the yokai situation and he had absolutely no idea how to process that. And then Kitamoto added, "Nishimura tends to go off the rails a bit when someone's mean to one of his friends. I mean, you've seen it. I just really don't want my best friend getting arrested for disturbing the peace while I'm not around."

So, that was a warning. Looking back, Tanuma should have taken it to heart.

Nishimura is Tanuma's smallest friend, an inch or so shorter than Taki now, but only in stature. If he were as big as all his caring, he would tower over cities. He's right now shouting down someone much larger than he is, without an ounce of sense or self-preservation.

This is the same boy who steals out of Natsume's bento at lunch, and makes faces behind Tsuji's back when he's lecturing them about passing notes during class, and gets into heated arguments with Isamu over the TV Guide literally every time they have a sleepover at Taki's house.

And it's the same boy who taught Natsume how to swim, one sunny August day almost two years ago now, at the river because Natsume was afraid to go into the pool. The same boy who has coaxed Tanuma through more than one panic attack, his hands a familiar shape around Tanuma's own at this point.

His caring is loud, Tanuma thinks. Even when it's quiet.

A few passersby have stopped, lingering nearby like they're going to get involved, and clearly it's making Yoshida feel outnumbered. The fight went out of him about three seconds after Nishimura started yelling in the first place, so all the rest of it has maybe been a bit overkill.

"So, is he just going to keep going? Like, until he runs out of breath?" Yoshida's friend asks.

She's been standing quietly to one side this entire time. Her face had folded with disapproval when Yoshida initially pushed Natsume down, but no one had a second to get a word in edgewise before Nishimura exploded about it, and now she simply looks as though this is the best punishment for her friend that she could have hoped for.

"Um, probably," Natsume says. He's unfamiliar with her, but she smiles at him.

"I only transferred here last year," she says. "And I don't listen to gossip. And anyway, with friends like these, those rumors about you couldn't possibly be true."

Her whole demeanor is calm and self-assured. She reminds Tanuma of Tsuji, and similarly, Natsume's guard seems to relent. He smiles back at her.

This leaves Tanuma free to step away without feeling as though he's abandoning him. With Nyanko-sensei in the crook of his arm, he reaches out and draws Nishimura back by the hood of his jacket, the way he's seen Taki and Kitamoto do one hundred times a day since they were fourteen.

Nishimura squawks in outrage, and struggles against Tanuma's grip, but... well, he's little. And Tanuma has been back in karate for the past year, give or take, so his core strength is fairly solid. It only takes a small amount of effort to reel Nishimura back and tuck him under his arm.

This is better. He feels his heart start to settle. Right here, Nishimura can't fly off the handle any more than he already has, and Tanuma can keep him from getting hurt.

“Are you sure I can’t punch him in the face?” Nishimura seethes. 

“Yes,” Natsume says quickly.

“What if I just break his nose a little?”

“Satchan,” Tanuma tries, and that, at least, gets Nishimura to stew quietly for a moment instead. “You’ve made your point. I’m sure Yashido is sorry.”

"He is very sorry," Yoshida's friend says peacefully. "He'll be especially sorry once I tell his mom that her only son acted like a stupid bully. Let's go, Hiroo, before you get beat up."

She bows politely, and then carts Yoshida away. Yoshida, if anything, looks relieved to have an out, and retreats without so much as a backwards glance.

"Ugh," Nishimura says. He isn't even winded. "Ugh! Just wait till I tell Kitamoto about that creep! He'll wish he'd been here!"

Kitamoto, who is basically a modern-day prophet, will definitely wish he had been here, though not for the same reasons Nishimura seems to be thinking of. Tanuma needs to reevaluate a lot of the conversations they've had in the past. How many times has Kitamoto said something like "they almost called the cops on us" totally offhand and actually meant it?

"You're insane," Natsume says the second they're alone again. There's a mark on his cheek from where he hit the ground that will be a bruise tomorrow. When their friends see that, they'll all be quick to side with Nishimura over this, so it's important that they get as much scolding in now as possible. "I don't want you picking fights like that, okay? What if it had gone differently, and he'd hit you or something?"

"Good," Nishimura says hotly. "Then our faces would match."

This remark disarms Natsume completely, and his expression turns warm and affectionate. Nyanko-sensei makes a noise that is almost a laugh. His eyes are slitted in something like approval. Kitamoto's warning of "it's up to you" rings loudly in Tanuma's ears. Okay.

He gives Nishimura a gentle shake with the arm still curled around his shoulders, and stands firm when Nishimura looks up at him.

Or, well. Almost stands firm. He does try. He'll tell Kitamoto he tried.

"Come to karate with me next week," he says. "If you're going to pick fights with people twice your size, at least be able to back it up."

Nishimura's face lights up. If he hadn’t been there to see it for himself, Tanuma never would have guessed what he'd been doing one minute ago. This is the boy who dozes off on Natsume’s shoulder during long train rides, who complains about Nyanko-sensei stealing his food but still slips him treats beneath the table anyway, who is delighted just by the idea of spending extra time with Tanuma after school.

"Definitely! No take-backs!" he announces, thrilled. "Just wait till I tell Acchan!"

Natsume gives Tanuma a sympathetic look. Tanuma decides then and there that the next time Kitamoto stays home, he's staying home, too.