#saw my old religion teacher

[mishkakagehishka]

I dreamt that there was some sort of horror(?) spin-off for enstars. Btw. It was like neat, but so stressful. So stressful. It was like, short story, takes place in an art gallery??? One of them gets incredibly pissed off and you have a set amount of time to find weapons and a strategy before you have to face them in a closed space. Makoto had a sniper (?? In a CLOSED SPACE????) and the strategy for him was to point lasers at his eyes to stun him and then beat the shit out of him. If you even care.

[fandomhopper-shit]

𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐏𝐞𝐭

Regina George x Female Reader

Summary : After the bus incident regina started to become more aware of everything around her one thing that stuck out to her was the cute girl that sat at the back of her algebra class, turns out she wasn't the only one to see that after all the girl seemed to be the Teacher's Pet

Warnings: Ooc Regina? Internal and External Homophobia, Forced Religion, Manipulation, Perverted old men,Terrible Parents, Swearing, Mentions of Forced Marriage, Protective Regina and Mild Scopophobia [Fear of Being looked at]

A/N: This is probably gonna be terrible like my other one so i will probably keep this in my drafts part 2 will come out just not eventually

Regina's Pov :

Walking back through the halls of North shore was a completely different experience for me since i wasn't the queen be anymore i started to see more of the 'background characters' as the old me would say, there were so many underrated cliques that honestly looked kinda cool and fun to hang out with for example ; The goths their make up looked so complicated but it fit them just as much as their clothes then there was the softball girls who looked like they could kick your ass but when you looked close enough they were just a bunch of goofy masc's but I would never tell any of them this to their faces I was reformed but I was still Regina George.

I walked into my Homeroom and saw a new teacher, I guess since it was a new year so there were bound to be some new people but what really caught my eye was the girl sat in the back of the classroom near the window, she was pretty. Really pretty. She wore a red oversized hoodie that was covered in white stars that were painted on there were other splatters of paint on it which just made it all the more unique then she had a plaid skirt that fell comfortably onto her thighs she wore thigh high socks with vans that once again had stars painted all over them but this time they re painted baby pink. It was adorable she looked too innocent to be going to a school like North shore.

I snapped out of my daze when the final bell rang I looked around for new seat and lit up when i saw one in front of the cutie, I quickly walked towards it before any other jock could take it. When i sat down she glanced away from the window towards me and a look of fear i think passed her face i couldn't tell because her face went blank as soon as she looked back at the window completely ignoring my presence I frowned and turned my head back around to see the new teacher looking at her with a weird glint in his eye it made me suspicious but i pushed it aside when he started speaking.

I think i could speak for everyone when I say we were surprised at the strong Southern accent the man had "Y'all bring to your books out we're gonna be looking' over some extra stuff y'all'd've see last year" He paused and let his eyes scan the entire classroom looking onto the girl behind me who refused to raise her head and meet his gaze and for some reason he smirked showing off his rancid brown smoker teeth then he went back to having a passive look, something about him made me and all the other girls and guys in class extremely uncomfortable he was watching us as if we were pieces of meat or worse Toys "Alright everyone My name is Mr Rockefeller, y'all will address me as such ye hear." He had a threatening undertone causing everyone even the football jocks to shrink into thir seats and nod.

The lesson went on and the uncomfortable energy increased especially when he was walking round the classroom 'helping' students with the work, by pure luck he didn't come over to me but he did spend half the lesson with the mystery girl behind me whispering things to her i could hear her swallowing and shuffling uncomfortably in her seat. I couldn't hear everything he was saying but i definitely caught bits and pieces that made me sick to my stomach, the bell rang and we all rushed towards the door I was about to make it out the door when I heard him call someone back "Ms (L/N) please stay behind I' do like to discuss some matters with you," He had the same weird glint in his eyes as he had at the start of the lesson it was unnerving and borderline predatory my posture stiffened i wanted to say something but my body didn't let me luckily Ms Norbury came in "Mr Rockefeller i'm sorry but Miss (L/N) must come with me to sort out the rest of classes as well as her clubs that her parents signed her up for her," She said not noticing the tense atmosphere in the room, i didn't even notice the breath that left my body.

Ms Norbury turned to me "Ah Regina just the girl i wanted to see, as a part of your new leaf you wouldn't mind if you could show miss (L/N) around the school and take her to her clubs you wouldn't mind that would you Great thank you," she rushed past me after a message popped up on her phone, leaving me stood in the entrance of the classroom while the new teacher and Student were stood in the classroom. The man looked like he was about to murder someone and the girl looked sort of relived but terrified, after a few seconds of awkward seconds she slowly walked towards me like a timid little deer avoiding my eyes and handed me a piece of paper i looked it over and realised it was practically a copy of mine, I smiled to myself "Well looks like we have very class together besides Pe but right now we have English so let's go," I gave the teacher an awkward wave as he glared at me as if i ruined his life, guiding her out the classroom we walked in silence she was constantly avoiding everyones eyes who turned to us so in response i glared at them and they turned away. Just cause i was turning a new leaf didn't mean couldn't install the fear of god into them.

We reached the classroom, walked in and i let her pick the seat she was most comfortable in which was closer to the back window I sat next to her and passed her back her schedule "After this we have History which is at top floor Then Art, Math and Lunch if you want you can sit with my friends?" I shifted in my seat nervously when she didn't reply for a good 30 seconds had i overstepped was she uncomfortable oh god shit shit shit i didn't mean to do that what do i do maybe i ca-

My spiralling was cut off when i heard a small southern voice quiet enough that i almost thought i imagined it "Your okay, don't wanna disturb y'all," She whispered letting her hair fall infant of her face to avoid my eyes as if she said something wrong, Her accent was similar to Mr Rockefeller's except more pleasant and it reminded me of a little mouse it was adorable. "We'd love to have you with us (Y/N) don't worry they'll love you," i gently let my hand hover over her arm not actually touching her but letting her know i was there, in homeroom she seemed to hate physical touch she flinched when someone brushed their hand on hers when she let them borrow a pen not to mention the way she was shaking like a leaf when Mr Rockefeller was practically pressing himself up behind her "I'll make sure they don't bombard you too much, if you get overwhelmed by them I'll take you out of there just tap my knee is that good? " the short time i've known her i guess you could say i'm protective of her.

She gave me a small smile so small in fact I almost missed it, the lesson carried on till the bell rang and everyone filed out chatting with their friends in the middle of the hall way it looked normal to me but she looked like she was overwhelmed her eyes were darting all over the place and she was shaking slightly without a single thought i hovered my hand over the small of her back and guided her to the top floor towards our history class, by the time we got there she had calmed down and was almost leaning in to my touch but i was probably imagining it we made it and the lesson went on as normal other than the teacher welcoming everyone.

@dandelions4us

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

Dec 27th

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1. Fic finder request!

Misnmian has a ghost in her apartment and ends up calling LWJ to go with her to meet WWX to get rid of the ghost. I don’t remember much other than she had to make the ghost soup or something? And then Wangxian hooked up at the end. I think it was short but had lots of cool details. Plz help!! 🥲

FOUND! wuchang by auberjing, hotpotluck_chaoscollective (M, 4k, MM & WWX, MM & LWJ, WangXian, Modern, Supernatural Elements, LWJ & MM Friendship, Past MM/WWX, MM & WWX Friendship, Businesswoman MM, Medium WWX, Professor LWJ, Cooking, MM's journey of self-discovery, Friendship, Self-Discovery, Family Feels, Bisexual WWX, Bisexual MM, Aromantic MM, Implied Sexual Content, Hopeful Ending, Family History, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, folk religion)

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2. hi, i can’t remember if i saw this fic on here or twitter but i can’t find it now and i’d really like to. all i remember about it is that the summary said that lwj and wwx hadn’t seen each other in a long time (might be exes) and wwx was now a famous singer. does anyone have an idea which fic it might be?

FOUND? Talisman by Witch_Nova221 (M, 192k, WangXian, Modern AU, Eventual Romance, Theatre, Rock Band, Childhood Friends, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Spousal Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Stalking, Minor Character Death, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining)

FOUND? 🔒 B-Side by Suspicious_Popsicle (M, 47k, WangXian, Modern AU, metalhead x classical music teacher AU)

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3. hello!! i was wondering if you guys could help me find a fic- i was literally just rereading it not that long ago but for some reason i can’t find it. It’s a modern au of wangxian in which they are already married. Wwx was planning to go visit the jiangs for an event but lwj doesn’t want him to bc of of how they treat wwx poorly. They have an argument abt it and wwx eventually still goes, leaving lwj to sulk but over the next few days they still call each other constantly to check in even when they’re upset at each other and yeah it’s just fic of wangxian bickering like an old married couple @makkachiin

FOUND! tipping point by cherrywhiskey (M, 13k, WangXian, Established Relationship, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Married Couple, Married Life, Bickering, Idiots in Love, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Fights, Arguing, Making Up, Kissing, Angry Kissing, Making Out, Modern, POV Alternating, Fighting, love and loyalty through petty fights, it gets intense before it gets better, but only coz they're SO IN LOVE, WangXian fighting, no seriously, this is just a fic where husbands wangxian have a fight, like typical married couples, then they make up and make out, lots of banter)

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4. Hi! I'm looking for a fic where wei wuxian cross-dresses in burial mounds settlement days for hiding identity reasons, ends up enjoying being fem-presenting as much as masc, and saves the Wens by marrying LWJ as his fem identity. This fic is not My Leaves Reach Ever for the Sun for at least 2 reasons: 1st, Wwx's fem name had "lian" (I thought it was something really simple like lianhua but now I'm second guessing) in it for lotus. In LRES it was a ning yinying instead. 2nd, he was genderfluid/genderqueer, whereas in LRES it seems to be just cross-dressing. I remember one specific scene where WWX as his fem self is "meeting" lqr for the first time, and LQR approves of her a lot more than wwx lol

thanks for your help :) @classygreydove

FOUND! Wei Wuxian, Who’s That? by bumbledees (T, 48k, WangXian, Mild to Moderate Pining, lotus pier siblings quietly also have a penchant for chaos, WWX will make LQR like him whether the old man likes it or not, WWX just wants to have fun and not be killed, and also to go to his sister's wedding, WWX is more stubborn than a boulder and twice as dense, Nobody Dies, nobody who matters anyways, except for WN, you're an angel and we're delighted you're here, "WWX fools the entire cultivation world", "and kicks up drama in front of their salad", warnings for sexual harassment due to JGS, and for the canonical behavior of the jin clan, ie war crimes forced labor human trafficking etc., hello naughty jin cultivators it's revenge time :) ) Wei Ying being the best daughter in law to Lan Qiren one lol

NOT FOUND! Propagate Understanding by draechaeli (E, 175k, WangXian, Not Everyone Dies, Pregnancy Kink, Consensual Non-Consent, Light Bondage, Adoption, Adoption but WWX birthed them all, MXY Lives, MXY has an arc, Original Children Characters, Babies for Everyone, Crossdressing, Temporary Character Death, easy to skip nsfw chapters, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Canon Divergence)

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5. Hi! I am new here but I wanted ask about ff in ao3 where Lan sizhui and Lan Wangji searches for "Xian-gege" via television show its modern au @yuukikonnos-world

FOUND! Yesterday Once More by Sweetlittlevampire (T, 22k, WangXian, Modern, Reality Show, Long Lost Family AU, Adoption, Family Reunions, Reunions, Lost Love, Getting Back Together, Family Feels, Found Family, Angst with a Happy Ending, [Podfic] Yesterday Once More by shash_reads (sunkitten_shash))

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6. Hi! I'm looking for a fic that has a passage from LWJ's POV that goes something like "Do you love him? Yes. Did you have a choice? No. Would you have liked to? Yes. Would you have chosen differently? No." Unfortunately I can't remember anything at all about the story but that passage stuck with me and I'd like to read it again. Thanks for your help! @somehowbirds

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7. Hello to you all, and happy Holidays! I am looking for the fanfic (I think it was time travel) where Lan Zhan gets Madam Yu to give away Wei Ying for a single copper coin (I think). Then she finds out shes been played and gets angry. She attacks LZ, they fight but LZ wins. In this fic I believe thats how he gets his title (Hanguang-Jun). Then he leaves with WY. It's a well-known fic but for the life of me I can no longer find it! Please help! @dreammaiden21

FOUND! If Wishes Were Donkeys by NightOwl1 (M, 117k, WIP, WangXian, SVSSS, Time Travel Fix-It, Case Fic, Mpreg, Fluff and Humor, Dysfunctional Jiāng Family, Bad Parent YZY, WangXian Get a Happy Ending,   Period-Typical Homophobia, Crossdressing, LWJ and WWX Have a Breeding Kink, It’s All The System’s Fault, Post-Canon, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Warning: JGS, Good Uncle LQR, LWJ and WWX Are LSZ’s Parents, Inappropriate Humor, Family Feels)

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8. Hi! This is fir fic finder. I dont remember much but it was in sunshot campign. WQ and MY work together i think. WQ search for the member of wen sect who wants to rebel to make an alliance. I think MY helped her but im not sure about this. WQ is in charge for healing a prisoner i think and using her skill in accupunture to make the prisoner appears dead and smuggle them out of nighless city. Im not sure if it was a different fic, but NMJ is outnumbered/ambushed by the wen and MY help him and hide in a cottage. MY dont know which side he wants to take but in the end he burn the cottage as NMJ flee. Thats all i can remember. Thanks! @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

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9. Hello I'm looking for a tumblr fic that was reposted on ao3. It's a modern au wangxian where the Jiang do not treat wwx well and the Lans are rich. Wwx accompanies jc to balls the lan organised just to make sure jc doesn't act out of line. They all eat together with lwj and the jiang start to shit on wwx only for lwj to say he's married? To wwx. Thank you very much in advance 💙

FOUND? The family I chose by Mialovesbl (Not rated, 12k, WangXian, LXC & WWX, WWX & WN & WQ, LQR & WWX, WWX &OFC, Modern, Jiang Family Bashing, JC Bashing, Bad Parents JFM & YZY, BAMF WWX, Everyone Loves WWX, Homophobic Language, BAMF WN, Married WangXian, CEO WWX, Child Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Good Uncle LQR)

FOUND? Confetti (on your lies) by imakirae (Not rated, 15k, WangXian, Mpreg, Pregnant WWX, Protective LWJ, Relationship Reveal, Modern, Toxic Jiangs, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse YZY Bashing, JC Bashing, Soft LQR, Confident WWX) They are not perfect matches but sound similar enough to the prompt that if they are not then I hope the asker will still enjoy them

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10. Hi, I'm looking for a fic where wwx started dating lwj on a bet from jc. The bet got revealed and lwj's feelings were severely hurt so wwx got kicked out by yzy. He ends up on the streets for awhile and ends up with the Wens at Yiling Cafe. Eventually lwj, who is now a musician, ends up coming across yiling cafe and Wwx on tour. They fall in love again and wwx was able to reconnect with jyl and jc through lwj. @foyoum

FOUND? 💖 love wakes me by dea_liberty (E, 46k, WangXian, Happy Ending, Angst, Childhood Sweethearts, Misunderstandings, Famous LWJ, Coffee Shop Owner WWX, Finding each other again, Found Families, lots and lots of feelings, so many feelings, Stupid Grand Romantic Gestures)

FOUND? 🔒 i swim in hollow lakes carved from memories (in neocities) by spookykingdomstarlight (T, 154k, WangXian, XiYao, Modern AU, Coffee Shops & Cafés, Music, Baking, Social Media, Misunderstandings, Consequences of Fake Dating Schemes, Flashbacks, Vlogger WWX, Professional Musician LWJ, Angst with a Happy Ending, Mistakes, Pining, Matchmaking, Romance, Illnesses, Slow Burn, Background SangNing, POV Multiple, Second Chances)

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11. Hello, I’m looking for a fic where the Jiang get involved in war with Jin against Wei Ying’s advice. He’s not close with the Jiang. He even puts a stop to a battle with Lan Zhan to save a village from a landslide. Eventually, he surrenders to Lan Zhan and is taken prisoner but is treated well because he was kind during the battles. @ruchiruchi123

FOUND? 🔒 Crossing Paths by Ilona22 (M, 21k, wangxian, shapeshifter au, graphic depictions of violence, war between sects, war crimes, not JC friendly, happy ending)

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12. Hello! I remembered a fic I read a couple years ago that takes place as a canin divergence during the Yi City arc, where Xue Yang succeeds in kidnapping Wei Wuxian and forces him to try and bring back Xiao Xingchen like he threatened. I can't remember much else about the fic, but I would love to reread it. Thank you so much! @peanutbutter-nutella

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13. Hi again and thank you so much for the last fic! I have another one. Its post burial grounds and wwx participates in the war but is changed and I remember there was this scene when he broke into a pile of skeletons after a disagreement(?) between himself, jc, jy and lw. They were horrified and wangji broke down crying gathering the skeletons in his arms. At the end they went to the burial grounds to free wwx @raven-hale

FOUND? Grief Kindly Stopped by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 5k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Identity Porn, Angst with a Happy Ending, POV LWJ, AU after WWX gets dropped in the Burial Mounds, Light Horror, Fix-It) it's not an exact match but fairly similar to the description.

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14. Hiiii I’m so sorry I’ve asked this but unsure if I got a response and for some reason I’ve missed my email and I can’t find the thread. This fanfic was one where wwx is a like a demon or higher up and is very familiar with LZ. LZ needs find a match. He’s an omega I think. There’s a scene where he just suddenly appears and LZ caters to him like gives him tea and then there’s a scene where WWZ gets all handsy with him and says if you wanna marry marry me or something. This is all I remember @ruyilantern

FOUND? Sanctuary by lunarvelle (E, 153k, WangXian, WIP, A/B/O, Bottom LWJ, Alpha WWX, Omega LWJ, YLLZ WWX, Demon WWX, Intersex LWJ, Rape/Non-con Elements, Dubious Consent, Feminization, Pack Dynamics, Genderfluid Character, Genderqueer Character, Breastfeeding, Male Lactation, Lactation Kink)

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15. Hello here is a fic that has rolled in my head … I read it but typical I cannot find it and my history got deleted 🥲 the story goes like this;

wei ying has baby a-yuan sleeping inside a file cabinet when lan zhan comes in and finds the baby asleep questions WY then takes the baby and gets pampered by LQ and LXC and buy him expensive baby clothes brand name loui b or Chanel or another high end brand by the time WY caught up to them LQ or LXC went to the store to get baby furniture … or so

Thank you @bkpmystinen

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16. If possible, there are two fics I would like to find.

A) Modern au Jiang Cheng meets canonverse Wei Ying and I think the ploy is Jiang Cheng trying to get him home?

B) Wei Ying dies during the core transfer and Jiang Cheng has to take him all the way to Qinghe so they cab give him a proper burial. @couldntgiveastraightanswer

16B)

FOUND? Impossible Remains by Jengabears (M, 128k, WangXIan, WIP, Major Character Death, Heavy Angst, Tragedy, Golden Core Transfer, Canon Divergence, Misunderstandings, Tragic Romance, Revenge, Betrayal, Guilt, Survivor Guilt, Childhood Memories, Grief/Mourning, Oaths & Vows, Gore, Insecurity, References to Depression, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Feelings, Self-Sacrifice, Ultimate Sacrifice, Guilty Conscience, Loss, Regret, Assumptions, Wrong Target, Sunshot Campaign, Major Original Character(s), No Demonic Cultivation, Sad, Action, sect politics, WWX has a good reputation, Yi City Arc Fix-It, Not Everyone Dies, Some Humor, BAMF NHS, War, Strategy & Tactics, Butterfly Effect, Fix-It of Sorts, Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, New sects, new powers, BAMF WN, Posthumous YZY bashing, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Battle, Canon-Typical Violence, Fire)

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17. Hi! This is for fic finder. I only remember a few last chapter but it was an unfinished fic. In this fic i think WWX and LWJ is married. Lanling Jin attacks Gusu Lan under JGY. At first, he make a plan to draw WWX attention. At first, JGY think his plan success. But he found out in cloud recessess there are Nies cultivator waiting there. He found out someone outsmart him (it was NHS). I think he run away using a tunnel? I dont remember but they are in tunnel. LXC confront him there with some character that i dont remember. And then with JGY command there are explosion. He managed to run away a bit i think. WWX is in the tunnel but not with LXC. I think many cultivator either ally or foe is terrified of him. Thats all i can remember. Thanks! @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

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18. Help me find this fanfic where Lan Zhan and Wei Ying (cn Bucky and Mulan) entered military acad. There was time where Lan Zhan stepped on a land mine and Wei Ying ignored Lan Zhan when the latter said to abandon him already. Before or after that, Lan Zhan was shot by Su She or was it Jin Zixun. Something unfortunate happened after that and Lan Zhan couldn't do anything to help Wei Ying. Lan Zhan become a president I guess but it was a long time before he met Wei Ying again. As far as remember, the title was "your name on my chest" by anonymous for Lan Zhan marked his chest with Wei Ying's nameplate (the one they got on military) Thank you in advance. @lu-wanji

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19. Another ficfinder request if you please

I don’t have a lot of details about this fic so I don’t really know how to search for it, but it was a wx mpreg story and what I remember most of all was wwx repeatedly asking for a chubby baby, and I think after it’s born lwj is like you got a chubby baby just like you wanted

FOUND! Post-war baby! by like_a_bird_that_flew (E, 24k, WangXian, JC & WWX & JYL, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, WangXian get together in the Zuanwu cave, this affects the plot, Mpreg, Secret Relationship, Relationship Reveal, Domestic Fluff, Good Uncle LQR, A-Yuan is Wangxian's son, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Humor, Crack Treated Seriously, brief mention of the Lan parent's dubious marriage, Weddings, Wedding Night, Eventual Smut, Established Relationship, petnames, Non-Graphic Depiction of Childbirth, Happy Ending, Pregnant WWX, Unplanned Pregnancy)

NOT FOUND! I think chapter 5 of Baby, You Ain’t Seen Nothing Yet by TriviasFolly (E, 177k, WangXian, Modern AU, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Omega LSZ, Mafia, Crime, Sects are Clans, Feral WWX, Feral Omegas, Nurse WWX, Dark LWJ, Dark WWX, Possessive LWJ, feminine WWX, wwx’s cannon desire to be a sugar baby/trophy wife, Breeding Kink, Mpreg)

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20. Hii! I'm looking for a wangxian fic I think its A/B/O I don't remember much other than it had a part where husiang got with one of the wen sons to upset his father but then they actually liked eachother? Thank you :D

FOUND? Train Rides Change Everything by Seriana (E, 508k, WangXian, SangXu, ChengJue, ChenLi, Modern AU, Non-Traditional A/B/O Dynamics, Mpreg, Abusive Jiang Family, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Slut Shaming, Fluff and Angst, Unplanned Pregnancy, Abusive YZY, Bad Parents JFM and YZY, Beta JC, Omega JYL, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Beta NHS, WC Being an Asshole, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Misunderstandings, Mating Bites, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Scenting, Scent Marking, Slow Burn, Forced Marriage, First Time, Forced Bitching - Omegaverse, Alpha WX, Minor Character Death, Murder, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kidnapping, drug overdose, Sexual Tension, Omega JC)

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[mattsbratt333]

TW: The following contains mentions of r*pe, SA, and religious trauma.

I went to a very bad religious school growing up, that gave me severe religious ocd and trauma, that I was too scared to talk to my parents about until I left the school.

Thankfully, I am in the process of healing and trying to forget and undo the trauma I have. I do not like to consider myself "religious" in the sense that I have to do or partake in any specific religious activity to earn my salvation. However, I personally believe that God is more of a father figure and a loving God rather than the harmful things I was taught and feared of as a child. I want to state that regardless of my view on God and religion, I believe everyone should have their own opinion and view and I am no where near entitled to speak on how people should live their lives. However, I am only stating how I live my life.

When I was fourteen years old, there was this boy at my school that was known for molesting his younger sister. I blame the school leaders for not forcing him to leave this school as he was only there because his parents made him attend. He would watch me and sometimes follow me as well. As I was too scared to speak up to anyone about this I continue to not say anything and avoid him at all cost.

One day I went to go walk to the bathrooms, and he followed behind me. Thankfully I saw him walking behind me from the glass doors that showed his reflection. Panicking, as I knew that I was alone and he was following me, I sped up as fast as I could. I cannot express the fear and the pit in my stomach as I realized that nobody was around to help me. I thank God so much for protecting me in that moment, because a former police officer who was now a teacher at that school so happened to exit the mens bathroom at the very moment that the boy was close to catching up to me. I have never, in my life experienced a relief like that before.

So when I say that rape is not a kink or a joke or a subject to write fanfic about, I mean that with everything in me. I cannot express how sick to my stomach I am about the things i am seeing on this app. Seeing everything makes this all come rushing back to me, and I cannot sit back and not express my concern. I don't really know what to say or how to say what i'm feeling, but know that if you support any form of that terrible account, I ask that you would block me immediately. I am trying to heal and seeing kinks about something that I barely escaped from experiencing first hand makes me sick. I cannot even imagine the pain from those who have experienced something as terrible as this.

My heart is hearting for all of you, that have experienced this or have been close to this happening to them. Please know that I am here for you all, I understand how hard and damaging experiencing religious trauma is and how these terrible acts of evil can hurt someone. Please reach out to me if you need to talk or rant. Because I know that as a fourteen year old living in fear of the things she was taught, that it is a living hell.

[burningsuitfire]

Essek and religious trauma

Saw this post from @balleater here and having been meaning to write a meta on the subject, theorizing about what we know.

Essek admits to being seriously traumatized when Caleb talks to him in the Grove.

(141) Caleb: Somewhat hypocritical coming from me, but try to be kind to yourself.  Essek: You, more than anyone, showed me that trauma doesn't define you.

The simplest conclusion is religious trauma, along with neglect and abandonment.

In the wrap-up Matt puts serious emphasis on Essek's parents and family being "very deeply steeped" in the religious culture alongside how Essek has "very much eschewed" the religious culture, that no one has ever genuinely cared about Essek beyond his influence and talent, that his family didn't understand or support his focus on dunamantic research (or his career), and draws clear lines about the negative aspects of Dynasty's theocratic authoritarianism and uncompromising cultural zealotry, at points Mercer even compares it to evangelicalism and doomsday cults.

He also gives us hints that it's a bad situation for anyone who doesn't follow the official faith, like in Eiselcross when Caleb asks questions about the mandated religion and Kryn theories on the beacons:

(124) Essek: It is an interesting idea, though I would caution to keep it close to the chest. Such conversations might be considered sacrilege in some circles of the Dynasty.

Which as word of god tells us Essek had a very bad relationship with his powerful authoritarian den family that didn't understand him or his goals, and he grew up in the Bastion (which is a temple to the Luxon), when the Dynasty laws are founded on the faith and enforced by the military:

(EGtW) The laws of the dynasty, which stem from the faith of the Luxon, are enforced by a network of trusted Aurora Watch captains and soldiers

To the point where Matt emphasized how even petty criminals in the prison were systematically "beaten and emaciated", sacrilege could have ugly consequences, even growing up.

Especially considering that all we know of his father is that he seemed to have a temper to the point of extremely self-destructive tendencies, and that he was possibly military and thus law enforcement (warriors function as both in the Dynasty).

Even in the dinner conversation when he was being outstandingly open, Essek was very careful not to tell the nein anything that could allow other Kryn to question his faith:

Marisha: So his lying about it [consecution] was just about going along with the zealotry and not- Matt: Exactly, because he didn't want people to think that there was something up.

And then there's Essek's massive trust problems, which are specifically focused on the word "trust":

(131) Caleb: We feel we can trust you more than my old teacher. (You see, when you say the word "trust". It's simultaneously like seeing a small hit to the heart... and whatever icy bit that cracked melts away for a minute. There's a moment of him hearing the word and letting it wash over him.) Essek: I'm thankful for the trust you put in me. And I hope to make this up to you.

(124) Essek: I've never really been trusted and so I did not trust. When I- when you gave me trust, it gave me a perspective that was so agonizingly striking. So easy to see that I refused to acknowledge it at first, even. (135) Essek: The more I begin to see Beauregard, yourself return with these markings- I've only just recently learned to trust. It's hard to begin to mistrust so quickly.

Where there's a theory that it might stem from the Dynasty's training for echo knights and dunamancers (when we've heard Essek tell Caleb that the training is comparable to that of scourgers), and we even see the echo knight in Zadash react very strongly to the word "trust":

(13) Mollymauk: We just need to know who we can trust and who we can't.  Thuron: You cannot trust anybody in this city. You cannot trust yourselves. Anyone who has not bound themselves. They are the enemy.

Other context and info gives us that consecution and worshipping the Luxon and following the umavi-written "system of pure faith" created from their interpretation of the beacons (as EGtW dictates the Luxon is canonically silent and unconscious) is required for people to hold Dynasty political/spiritual/military office and influence, to work for the theocratic government (comprised of the 12 noble religious den families), and that dunamancy and the Dynasty's dunamis research is only accessible to those working for the government.

And it seems like Essek hints at unattractive consequences to others discovering he's been lying about his faith (and/or the dangerous nature of his career):

(131) Essek: I just know that I've also survived this long, weaving the intricacies of deceit like I have, by knowing how best to keep myself out of the complications as best as I can.

Finally, we have Essek's relationship with punishment and pain, alongside the Dynasty's systematic religious corporal punishment:

(57) In the shadows there look to be multiple figures. Some human, some ogre-ish with more reinforced bars, drow. Emaciated, beaten. Not looking happy and healthy, but then again, what good Dungeon of Penance would?

(77) ...days of chosen sunlight in which the nightfall is dispelled and the people of Rosohna and Xhorhas bask in the sun. Even those who find pain and challenge in its presence, as it is part of the worship. (EGtW) The Kryn drow who emerged from the shadowed depths of the caverns beneath Xhorhas now endure periods of sunlight as part of their worship. Periods of days, sometimes weeks, will transpire in a state of perpetual evening, enabling the darkness-bound denizens to go about their work. Such periods briefly come to an end to usher in periods of scheduled, mass worship under the sunlight.

(99) Essek: I will take my leave for the night. Thank you for not throwing me into the water. (97) Essek: The pain is somewhat comforting because I am my own punishment. (91) Essek: I have seen those far older than you that have experienced maybe half the pain I see in your eyes. Age isn't everything. Experience is what hardens you, prepares you for the worst. (138) Beau: My essence will haunt you. Essek: And I would deserve it, like I deserve all of the things that haunt me. Jester: Aw, Essek... Essek: Don't- offer me any solace. (141) Essek: Maybe it's time I just found my way. Really began my penance. I've procrastinated long enough in dealing with my sins. I convinced myself I'd be alone for so much of my life. It's hard to say goodbye when I don't feel alone anymore, but… I understand. I understand and accept what I've done.

[catholic-character-tournament]

Round 5 - Catholic Character Tournament

Propaganda below ⬇️

Sister Michael

She drives a DeLorean. She does judo on Fridays. She likes a good statue and despises the French. Her full nun name is Sister George Michael, after the guy from Wham!. She is the fiercest nun you’ll ever come across and, if you’re attending Lady Immaculate College, she’s the woman in charge. So whatever you do, if you’re feeling anxious or worried or just need a chat: don’t come crying to her.

joined the nunnery for the free accommodation?

she does love a good statue it has to be said

She is the headmistress of a catholic school <3

sister michael so reminds me of the nuns who taught me. they're tough and sometimes a little harsher than a woman who dedicated her life to god should be but they're also wonderful people. i had a nun teacher who was 60 years old and would do handstands. another nun (also in her 60s) told me god was nonbinary. another was really mean and made me cry. (so did the handstand nun.) while the catholic girls school is The Catholic Experience, the school wouldn't have been the same for me or the derry girls without at least one nun who seemed to have sprung up out of the ground fully formed, ageless.

Kurt Wagner/Nightcrawler Propaganda:

good lord where do i start. in the animated series he converts logan to catholisism and then fucks off basically thats the main thing he did there. i think one time they tried to make him a demon to explain how he looked but everyone hated that. he sold his soul one time to help his friends out after he died. he and logan have a weird little gay thing. he was a priest one time but he was made a priest by a fake bishop from a religion that hates mutants iirc so he just wasnt a priest. like 3 people have written him in a way i like and one of those is my friend just talking about how they view him.

wow marvel loves making catholic characters dress/look like demons

Kurt is a mutant who was born to mystique who looks a LOT like a devil (technically is half one but that cannon truth isn’t real go back to bed), his mother dropped him off a cliff when he was born and he was picked up by a Romani group/circus (fuck old comics man) however he then narrowly escaped being sold to a freak show and found himself in a small German town. There he met a kind priest, who showed him God, and he quickly grew attached to the idea- However, it wasn’t long before people began labeling him a demon and soon the whole town was against him with pitchforks and fire. Cornered and injured, Kurt thought this might be the end for him- maybe he would see heaven so long after finding it- but he was then saved by Charles Xavier who invited him to the X-Men. AND ITS BEEN SO MANY YEARS AND HE HAS BEEN THROUGH SO MUCH THERE. SO MUCH. SO GOD DAMN MUCH. BUT THE MOST AAAA THING TO ME CONCERNING HIS FAITH HE WHEN HE LITERALLY DIED AND WENT TO HEAVEN BUT THEN BECAUSE OF DRAMA WITH HIS FATHER HAD TO BRING HIS FRIENDS IN WITH HIM FROM THE BEYOND. THEN WITH ALOT OF TROUBLE THEY FOUGHT HIS FATHER AND THE ONLY WAY KURT SAW TO STOP HIM WAS IN A MOVE THAT STRIPPED THEM BOTH OF THEIR SOULS AND PUT THEM BACK ON EARTH. SO KURT CANONICALLY HAS NOW LOST HIS ABILITY FOR ETERNAL PEACE, LOST HIS VERY SOUL, TO SAVE PEOPLE- AND ALSO TOLD NO ONE NOT EVEN HIS GAY LOVER WOLVERINE.

Nightcrawler is a mutant vigilante who looks like a classical demon. He can’t even go to church without people panicking and trying to exorcize him. Despite it all, he’s so full of faith and hope and compassion, and he wants to believe the best of everyone. Also, he’s bffs with an extremely angry Jewish sword lesbian. That has nothing to do with anything, but it’s important to me that you all know that.

What if you were a devout christian and literally looked like the devil? He nearly became the pope, which was a plot by some supervillains that also involved faking a rapture? There is nothing like comics I swear to god.

A catholic who is half demon I don’t think I can better explain a struggle than that. But his character is so relatable to people who feel unwelcome with their congregation because of something that is a part of them but still feeling a connection to the faith. Kurt actively engaged in his faith and shares how his faith helps him through all the things he has faced in life and how he found a home with those of the church who leave the judging to God.

so they made kurt a priest briefly before deciding to retcon it, resulting in nightcrawler actually being part of a plan by villains to promote him to pope then reveal to the world that the pope is a demon. wild.

I have a side blog and a tattoo about him and i really really want him to win

Wisecracking devil-appearing devout Catholic with the Best superpower (teleportation)? HECK YES

German Catholic circus acrobat who looks like a demon & can teleport through a hellish alternate dimension with a puff of sulfur. Character of all time.

hes catholic and his dad is the devil. what could be funnier than that. also hes my silly little guy.

Nightcrawler is the world’s most fun catholic priest. I first was introduced to this kindhearted teleporting acrobat while he saved a boat full of stowaway refugees from inter dimensional pirates with swashbuckling gusto!

[homunculus-argument]

I've learned to be neutral about other people being religious, but my own experience with it was definitely coloured by my issues with my dad. He was a proper Edgelord Atheist, loathing religions as a whole and christianity in particular, never hesitating to remark about how stupid and backwards or primitive it is. My mother didn't care either way, she only talks about god when she talks about gardening. So he was the only one in the house with any strong opinion about it. And yet, me and my sister were babtised, put into a christian daycare for a while and then put into christian religions classes at school.

I always loathed religion classes as a kid and didn't know why, I hated hearing about it and having to put up with it and always felt like the teacher is just insulting us by lying right at our faces, about something that surely nobody actually believes for real. My childhood best friend was put into the non-christian option despite of coming from the same kind of a vaguely culturally christian background as I did, and I envied her intensely for it. I asked repeatedly to get to go to the non-christian classes as well, and was told "no", because my mother didn't think that letting your kids do that was an option even though my friend's parents clearly had already done it.

I had a serious Edgelord Edgy Atheist phase in my teens, and was wrangled into going through confirmation anyway because Everyone Else's Kids Are Doing It Too. The aforementioned friend got to go through a non-religious version of the same thing, which I had not even known was an option, so I didn't think to ask for it. Being wrangled through jesus classes as a 15-year-old bag of spite who was only marginally self-aware enough to avoid physically wearing a fedora, I was not a pleasure to have in class.

My father was physically present in the house until I was 14, until my mother finally accepted that this man's presence might actually cause physical harm - his drunken attempts to cook almost caused a fire, and he drove drunk with me and my sister on board once - and he reluctantly agreed to be removed from the picture. His absence at home made no impact nor difference in our daily life, the man who sleeps in the spare room just wasn't sleeping in the spare room anymore.

We saw him frequently enough after that, he visited us for family events and joined us for outings. At some points I tried to bond with him, over mutual interests and passions, even tried to prompt him to join me on snide remarks about religions that he used to make all the time, but he would not. He refused to bond with his children even over mutually hating the same things. It slowly occurred to me over time that the reason why christianity had played any role in my life was because he had never, at any point at all, moved a finger to stop it. Harmless or not, he had no instinctive desire to move his children away from things he considered bad. He had hated it enough to make it known that he hates it, but genuinely just did not care enough to consider not letting him children grow up in an environment he loathed.

My father died when I was 17, and I never really mourned him - not out of hatred, but because his death had hardly even altered the empty absence that was his presence in my life. I had grown up with religious classes trying to tell me about a loving god, and I had not understood why I had hated it, why I felt betrayed and lied to. My relationship with the christian god I was taught to understand has been exactly the same as my relationship with my father.

Desperately shrieking into a void that is so vast that not even my own echo would answer, and knowing for certain that the dead silence I'm hearing in return is the complete, absolute absence of a loving Father.

[rose-of-red-lake]

Helicopter parents at the Jedi Temple

"Rhogo can't take his intergalactic history exam at that time. We're going on three week vacation to Canto Bight."

"You told Hely that her blood was red when actually, it's blue." (It was, in fact, red.)

"My little Colo needs to be in a more advanced class. He's already mastered all of the lightsaber forms."

"I saw the grade you gave Mara in her Courage trial. Why did she fail the exam?"

"Brax can't take your class on learning how to resist mind probes and interrogation. It's against his religion."

"I don't want my son assigned to Mace Windu."

"I don't like the carpeting in here. The classroom should have thicker carpets in case Steffan hits his head."

(Jedi Voicemail at 3 AM): "This is Jona Johnson, Joyo's mom. I called you yesterday. Can you please call me back? We had some questions."

"We're frantically watching the holonet and hear that a war is about to break out between the Wookies and the Trandoshans. I know that Reni is a Jedi Knight but they need to come home now. I don't want them going anywhere near that mess."

"WHY ARE YOU TEACHING MY CHILD TO SUPPRESS HIS EMOTIONS"

"Why do you worship false idols at the Jedi temple? Those statues look demonic. I'm contacting Chancellor Palpatine."

"I'm somewhat of a botanist myself. Chane would love to work in your agricorp lab."

"My child can't understand anything that old green teacher is saying. His accent is too thick. He needs to be moved to a different teacher."

"How do I become a Jedi master here?"

[youcantmisstheabyss]

i cannot prioritise for the life of me i have overdue homework and i spend my three hours making two posters about the history of the swastika for an optional event that i'm not even going to :sobsob:

here's the typed version if you're interested! figured it would be better than 140p photos. bear in mind my audience is 10-16yr olds

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THE HISTORY OF THE SWASTIKA

First used at around 10,000 BCE on rock and cave paintings in Eurasia and India, the swastika was a common symbol of good luck. In Sanskrit, the term 'svastika' means 'all is well.'

PRIOR TO THE 1800s:

In Hinduism, the right-facing swastika symbolises the sun, fertility and good fortune, and the left-facing swastika (sauvastika) symbolises the night and the Hindu goddess Kali, associated with time and destruction. The symbol is believed to ward off misfortune and negative forces from its surroundings.

In Jainism, similar to Buddhism in concepts, the swastika represents the seventh Jain, Suparśva, one of 24 spiritual teachers within the religion, and in Buddhism it represents prosperity and eternity and is used to mark the beginning of Buddhist texts, as it is in Hinduism. The swastika is considered the first of the 65 auspicious symbols of Buddha and is often found marked on statues of him on the chest, hands or feet.

The swastika was also previously associated with the Slavic god Svarog and was associated with all Slavic lands in the Middle Ages, however this association faded before the symbol was popular in the West again.

LATE 1800s TO EARLY 1900s

Following the 'discovery' of America from 1890 to 1940, the swastika was found to be a prominent symbol in indigenous culture, representing the four directions (North, South, East, West.) Because of this, the swastika became a popular emblem amongst the white settlers as a symbol of good luck, being worn as jewellery and emblazoned on tokens. By 1938, the production of the symbol had discontinued due to its adoption by the Nazi Party.

In 1921, far-right Romanian politician Alexandru Cuza became the first to publicly use the swastika in a political context, appearing in his publications and broadcasts. He saw it as an 'Aryan' symbol which was, according to him, Romanian in descent and he wanted to popularise it among other right-wing Romanians. This was then adopted by the National-Christian Defence League, who used the tilted swastika on their flag.

TODAY:

Since 1930, Hitler's appropriation of the swastika has left an impact on the symbol's meaning and it is still used by Neo-Nazis (people who believe in the values instilled by the Nazi Party, such as antisemitism) in the West. Interestingly, the manji symbol (left-facing swastika) was very popular among Japanese schoolgirls in 2016, who tied no meaning to it other than it being something to say before taking a selfie, like 'cheese!' i.e 'manji!'

[cosmicdream222]

have you entered the void before?

I'm asking cause I've seen you post about it a bunch times with different methods to enter

Also, thank you for introducing me to the phase method! I'm using it and another method (one I created) to enter

Hey! Glad to hear the Phase has been helpful for you! Happy to answer your question, but it’s a bit more complicated than a yes/no answer and I’m feeling rambly today so you’re gonna get a whole backstory on how this blog came to be 😂

Backstory about me & this blog

I’d been in the personal development manifestation community since around 2016, and it was my life for a long time. But the kind of manifesting these people taught was basically like… wake up at 5am, work out, journal, meditate, shadow work, tarot cards, affirmations, cold showers, start a business, post no less than 10 times a day across your 5+ social media channels, and maybe if you hustle hard enough and cleared enough past life karma and Mercury isn’t retrograde, then the universe might grant your wishes... (if you don’t die of exhaustion first. 😅)

It really was a mess and realize now despite the facade of positive thinking and good vibes, the whole community really just keeps themselves identifying with lack & victim mentality so the coaches at the top profit off everyone else’s misery.

I believed in manifesting and had faith I would achieve my goals, but despite years of trying a million different things, only saw small or short-term successes and never seemed to get anywhere. I was feeling pretty burnt out and miserable, so summer 2023 I decided to stop trying so hard and just spend some time focused on myself and what I wanted. I went back to the two methods that I’ve always loved and had success with: affirmations and tapping.

I tapped every day and started making affirmation art and lockscreen wallpaper for fun. I posted the affirmations on Pinterest, which eventually lead me to finding affirmations pinned from tumblr. I think it was a screenshot from blushydior I saw at first, but her blog was deactivated by then. So I started stumbling around tumblr (around Aug-Sept 2023 at this point), where I eventually came across loa, the void, and shifting.

I was surprised because despite my extreme research into all things personal development & spiritual, I’d never heard of it. Although I’d read about quantum physics and more supernatural things, every coach/teacher had major limits. “Manifesting” only meant getting logical earth things like making 6 figures in your business through hard work and hustle so you can afford to travel and buy luxury cars & Chanel bags. Stuff like changing the past, waking up with all your desires, etc was absolutely impossible and not even talked about except “you can’t change the past”.

So having only heard about these incredible overnight life-changing manifestations from tumblr, I was skeptical and wanted more information. I basically started this blog to collect information from outside tumblr to prove it to myself and share with others. Which of course sent me down a rabbit hole of research and overconsumption and overcomplicating the void 😅

I did get kinda obsessed and throw myself into trying every shifting & void method I saw right away, which just left me frustrated with “failed” attempts. But I see now I was just repeating the same victim mentality from the old community - that everything had to be hard and a struggle, that I was a victim of circumstance and limited by a higher power. (This is also a really commonly held limiting belief in religion and society in general that affects many people.)

It took me more than a few months to realize, but I’m finally switching my default programming to that of a creator instead of a victim. Because I don’t want to be obsessed and put the void on a pedestal, I’m currently just working on my self concept that I am in control of my reality and can manifest whatever I want - with or without the void. I still do want to experience it of course, just want to make sure I’m going at it with a healthy mindset.

However!

About a week or two ago I read someone’s void success story that triggered a memory from many years ago: I realized I actually did wake up in the void and manifested something, long before I even knew what manifesting or the void was 😭 Because I’d always believed in supernatural things, I thought I had a “psychic dream” but now I know it was the void! (If anyone wants storytime I can make another post with more detail).

And since at the time, I entered without even knowing about the void’s existence, I realize we here or tumblr really do overcomplicate it. Like the video I posted where the void is described as the midway point between wake and sleep - it really is that simple!

I’ve noticed now that whenever I wake up naturally (not getting woken up by an alarm, outside noise, or cat jumping on me) I do always seem to wake up in the void. It’s the same kind of experience, and I don’t hear anything, but my first natural instinct when I wake up is to wonder where the sounds of my environment are. So I end up tuning in to my room and snapping out of the void.

I guess I just have to train myself to make my first thought an affirmation for my desires instead of just wondering where the sounds are 😅 But regardless, now I know it’s absolutely real and possible for me, I know it’s only a matter of time until I figure it out!

[thenonbinaryfan444]

Diaries of a young pagan pt.1: The beginning

When I was little (and still) I was always fascinated with mythology and stories of the old gods. I found that religion so beautiful. How can we have many gods for everything?

One day, when I was seventeen, I got the urge to pray, but not the usual prayers that were taught to me since I was little, no, I prayed to Apollo. I don't know why but when his name came out of my lips during the prayer it just felt right.

I remember that day clearly. I was sitting in my language class as we learned about Troy. The teacher listed gods and told us their stories and even though I already knew about them, I listened. Something drew me closer to them. I felt safe, seen, and understood.

One day I had a really bad day at school. I was bullied and called stupid. That night I dreamt of him, Apollo.

I was in a golden room and there was a chair. I was sitting on the floor and crying. Suddenly I felt a hand patting my head and a soft voice spoke up. I looked up and saw a young beautiful man.

"You're a good child", he softly spoke.

Soon after that, a week later, I made a little altar for Apollo.

I still pray to him, and I feel so happy.

I'm still new to paganism and I'm trying to learn as much as I can about the gods and paganism. So if anyone has sope tips and facts, they're all welcome! I will also make a little series here called "Diaries of a young pagan" to share my experiences with this beautiful religion.

[tiny-breadcrumbs]

Of Pencil and Paper

(Trigger warning: mention of Sexual Assault and self harm)

People often ask why I stay with analog medium? The world is moving, digital art is growing fast and it does perform better on industrial scale. But I can never find how to answer that question without it sounded like I'm selling a sad story. So a lot of people only get the "I don't like it" answer. Short and simple. Yet sometimes, I can see the prejudice in their eyes, how arrogant, they said.

It's unhealthy. I almost conviced myself that I simply didn't like it when the root was deeper than that. It's easier to tell the lie, to sounds like an arrogant old school artist who dislike digital art with passion. No, never that. I like the texture of paper and the smell of wet paint. Not in the artistic sense, at least not at first, I found peace in that because they once saved me from my darkest days. Thus, they are familiar.

I always love a story. Consuming one or writing it myself. Yeah, I used to write. Ten years old me have a dream to be a novelist. And it all shattered when I'm thirteen. I'm sexually assaulted by one of the teacher in my school. At school hour, in an empty classroom because everyone else in a middle of morning prayer and I'm the only kid at that time with different believe. And everything spiralling down from there. It was a prestigious school I study hard to get in, that jerk used to be everyone favorite teacher including me, now, I saw that place like a hell on earth.

I never get justice. Never. Me and family being silenced for the sake of keeping the school reputation, with just a word of apology and so called promise to never repeat. As if the SA trauma can be healed like that. But world is unfair and the society is in the hand of the rich. My family is in minority from every aspect, ethnic, religion stance, society, even economy. The school even has the audacity to blackmailing us, they said I'm alone in the classrom that day because I've been writing porn on my book. The book they already confiscated and read. The book where thirteen years old me write a silly treasure hunt story. I've never saw that book again.

You see, I have a lot of issue at that time. We don't even have money to pay for therapist. Nor we can get a free counseling for victim because the case was never disclosed. The school have connection with the local police and I can just bury that injustice deep in me. At one point it almost reach a self harm. I used to scrubbing my skin until it was red, but the phantom hands still there, and I very tempted to peel it out. My family hid all the sharp object, I think I scare them badly. But I found a single pencil. Unfortunately (or fortunately) not sharp. I run it across my skin, but they didn't tear. So I take it on paper.

At first, maybe I'm doing art as some kind of therapy. I pour all that anger and disgust on paper, for months it was all angry lines and colours. The texture as I scratch the pencil, the slash of black it made across the white paper, it strangely satisfying. A little bit sadistic perhaps, because I'm doing it with the face of a demon that appear every night in my dreams, that person face. But my family keep giving me more paper, they told me to keep going. By the time I'm calm enough, when I finally graduate, I start to turn that lines into a drawing. I love a story. And because words now terrify me, I finally learn how to draw.

With times, I learn to enjoy it for the fun and all the beauty in it.

The thing is, all that sensory experience became a habit. I need to feel the paper, I need to hold a wooden pencil, a wooden brush, I need to smell the paint, so I feel safe enough to concentrate and lose myself in arts. So I can loosen up a little bit and not being so hypervigilant. Maybe I'm afraid the screen and digital art can't provide me that sense of safety. That smooth glide on the screen gave me dissasociative feeling and freak me out. I try it before and nope out so fast my last bit of paint on the pallete was not even dry yet. I enjoy digital arts when I'm not the one doing it and good for all those illustrator that can make it to the industry. But I'm here first and foremost to keep myself sane.

I'm okay now. Fabulous. Fewer and fewer relapse over the years. By the time I'm fixing all my family financial problem and finally have enough to find a therapist, they said I already handle myself good. I'm carrying thirteen years old me crawling out from that dark pit with sheer spite and luck for finding the perfect outlet to regulate that negative emotion. Giving myself an art therapy without even realise it was one. I can talk freely about that now, maybe I finally find that peace with myself.

So, do you see how long this is? Thats why I take a two minute silence whenever someone ask me why I did not do digital art when I have a potential to make more money with it. How do you even explain this? And I don't think they will care. We Asian do not believe in mental health issue 😂😂 why so weak? So saying I simply doesn't like it looks like the fastest way to give answer and switch topic. Not a lie, but not the truth either.

But my therapist told me to write this out because they think it can help someone out there about the story of art therapy, and here it is. Next time when you are about to ask and pester someone about why they didn't switch into digital art, perhaps do it on a kinder tone. Maybe they have more story behind that, big or small.

If this resonate with you, here, let me give you a hug. You are a survivor and so damn strong, I'm super proud of you!

May the world be kinder to you today, tomorrow, and many years to come.

[motsimages]

Since that article about physical contact vs non-physical contact in different countries, here are some experiences I've had about it:

Usamericans are, by far, the most different from my experience. They are the only ones that get physically tense if you unexpectedly touch them, the only ones that would make a step back if you get to close so as to keep their personal space safe. The first time I met a Usamerican, he was my age (17 at the time), and he was staying in my house for a week as part of an exchange program. My mother felt that he was always very tense, that he needed to relax and so she did what every Spanish mother in her place would do: hug him, hold him, touch him and feed him. He would only get tenser, to my mother's frustration. Nobody explained us or him that the reason he was so tense in our house was the incredible amount of physical contact he was seeing and experiencing all the time by everyone. I have also met very huggy and physically affectionate usamericans and I wonder in which circles they usually move or where are they from because they are an exception. It was on the internet that I first saw "PDA" (public displays of affection) as something negative that people shouldn't do. I guess it comes from the US, it may also be a UK thing?? I don't know. It was confusing because people seem to get angry at it and I am like "what are you supposed to do then? How do people know you like them?" Also, learning that teachers are NOT (never ever) supposed to touch their students, I was in shock. What do you do with toddlers? They need physical affection and they will come up to you for it. What if a 12 year-old is crying? Aren't you going to at least confort them? How do you confort someone without touching them? Now that I know more about US culture, I wonder if white people are more distant than black people, or if religion plays a role.

Chinese and Japanese people I've met tend to keep their distance and may feel uncomfortable but, the ones I've had more contact with, soon get used to it and even enjoy it. I guess many won't or will find it invasive, but I have met some who went all in the moment they saw a world where you could hug people just because. I particularly remember two Chinese girls who, upon meeting a lot of Spanish people in France and seeing we were always hugging and touching, started to do it *way too much*, touching body parts you are not supposed to touch (like ass or boobs) because I guess for them it was all equally accessible/non-accessible, so we had to teach them to control themselves a bit. There was also a Japanese young man, a friend of a friend, who was shocked at first but then travelled around Europe and came back like "nobody was touching me :((((". He thought it was a European thing. He told me that back home in Japan, nobody would hug him, not even his mom.

Northern Europeans always keep their distance and won't hug you unless there is a need for it (and depending on the country/person, maybe not even then). Any other physical contact that is frequent in Spain, like grabbing someone's shoulder, is weird and could be interpreted as flirting. I have seen hugs and physical closeness in Sweedish series in situations that US series won't do, but I still had to tell my Northern European friends in Russia that, now that we were friends, I expected hugs and would ask for hugs frequently. Even with that, I once asked a Swiss friend for a hug and he went "why?". I was in shock. "What do you mean "why"? Because I want a hug? You shouldn't question hugs!". A Spanish friend in Switzerland told me that when she broke up with her boyfriend, her Swiss friend was there listening and giving company but not once did she got close enough to touch her. Not even for a hug. A Sweedish girl who couchsurfed at my place for a couple of weeks said that Madrid was the city of love because people were always hugging, snogging, kissing and touching each other everywhere (particularly couples).

A UK friend once told me about a girl he knew was feeling sad and he left her crying in her room and I was like "what the fuck. why would you leave her crying" and he said "that's what you do, if she wants to cry, you give her space" and I was like "listen to me: if a Spanish, and I would go as far as saying a Mediterranean, is crying, you better stay around. You keep an eye on them, you hug them, hold their hand, give them food. You do not leave someone who is crying and having a bad time alone unless they ask for it, and even then, you keep watch and check on them later on". He told me that you should leave English people alone when they are feeling blue (I can't promise I would do that but fair enough, I'll keep it in mind).

The UK is the only place where I don't know what is it that I do that people think not only that I'm flirting, but that things are happening between us, when I'm just there. I'm usually very good to know when I'm flirting and when I'm not but somebody may be interested. In the UK, it has happend a couple of times that we were having a normal conversation and then suddenly there was a certain complicity and I was there like "whaaaaat.... oh shit, I got in too close, didn't I? I may have touched their elbow on my way to the toilet or something".

Russians are surprisingly similar to Spanish, culturally and in character. There wasn't that much cultural shock there. They are not as touchy as Spanish people are, but they enjoy it, they hug people easily and they like physical closeness. Particularly, young girl-friends are very tactile, they often hold hands in the street, hug, etc. I have seen teenagers sitting on each other in public parks, I have seen couples hugging and kissing in the street. When travelling by train with my Spanish friend who lives in Switzerland, we chatted with some 50 year-old men in our wagon. She joked to one of them (in Spanish, I translated) and touched his arm to help drive the joke (he mentioned weaponry and she said "are these the Russian guns?"), and he didnt' bat an eye, he laughed and nodded. "Oh, they don't mind being touched" she pointed out.

Latin Americans seem to me just like Spanish, but they feel Spanish are cold and distant.

I think, amongst the Mediterraneans, we are all more or less the same, whether it's Europeans, Maghrebians, Balkans... I have a feeling that some Asian countries and some African countries might be similar too, but I don't have much experience with them.

I'd say the way it works in Spain is this: we touch people to communicate with them. It serves the purpose of showing we are there, we like your company, we are listening. If you paid attention, you could see who gets along with whom, who are closer friends or family by how they stand next to each other and how they touch each other.

I will end with an anecdote. I am currently interpreting psychological sessions for Russian refugees. We were in a session and the psychologist received a phone call, she excused herself saying that it was the doctor and maybe something had happened at school with her daughter. She apologised herself, she was only picking up in case there was an emergency. It wasn't the doctor so she asked to be called later but she was quickly given some good news before hanging up. She said "I apologise, but I need to share this with you." She shared the news with us, crying because she got emotional. My first instinct (that I noticed only because there was a Russian person there who may not be familiar with Spanish ways) was to touch her arm so she knew we were there. I asked her "do you want a hug?" and she said yes. So we hugged and the patient came to hug her as well, copying us. We stopped a professional work environment to hug a person who was celebrating some happy news, to help her regain composure and feel accompanied.

[kitttttchaos]

I have a message for American Christians and for Atheists, because oh my word, it is getting tough out here.

I’m about to make some heads roll with this one.

Firstly, American Christians. What are you doing?! Do you not understand that Trump is ABSOLUTELY NOT the second coming of Jesus? Like, are you crazy? There are so many things I could get into here, but the main thing is, Christianity is not Nationalism, and anyone who uses Christianity to defend violence is blaspheming Jesus’s name. Jesus came to LOVE people. John 3:17 says “For God did not send his son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him.” It is God’s job to judge sinners, not yours. Your job is to LOVE them. Jesus says in John 13:34-35 “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” Do you not realize that by perpetuating hatred, people don’t see you as disciples of Jesus, who taught kindness and generosity, and love above all else—they see you as bullies. The phrase “there’s no hate like Christian love” isn’t woke propaganda, it’s a result of your ignorance. You band together in your little middle class groups, isolating yourself from people who need the Gospel, spewing lies about groups YOU DON’T EVEN ASSOCIATE WITH, attaching yourself to the organization and the facility of the church rather than to Jesus’s Word.

Do you not remember this:

“When the teachers of the law who were Pharisees saw Him eating with the sinners and tax collectors, they asked His disciples: “Why does he eat with tax collectors and sinners?”

On hearing this, Jesus said to them, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.””

Do you also not remember when the Pharisees caught a woman with a man who wasn’t her husband, and they dragged her out naked and through her in front of Jesus? The seventh commandment of the ten that God gave Moses in the Torah (the first five books of the Old Testament) was “do not commit adultery”, so this was a capital offense. But did Jesus, who had literally been saying this whole time that love was more important than all those other commandments, condemn this woman? Of course He didn’t. He said, “Let he who has not sinned throw the first stone.”

STOP BEING LIKE THE PHARISEES AND BE MORE LIKE JESUS. “FOR ALL HAVE SINNED AND FALL SHORT OF THE GLORY OF GOD.” (Roman’s 3:23) NOT JUST GAY PEOPLE AND PEOPLE WHO HAVE SEX BEFORE MARRIAGE. YOU HAVE ALSO SINNED. YOU’RE SINNING A HELL OF A LOT RIGHT NOW.

Ahem. Are the atheists still here? Just because I knocked the Christians off their high horse doesn’t mean it’s for sale.

Okay. Listen. Atheism is a religion. Most developed countries allow for freedom of religion. That’s important. Anyone is legally allowed to believe anything that they want. Period. Meaning that you are allowed to believe another person is wrong. This also falls under freedom of expression in some countries.

A lot (not all) of atheists that I know bitch and moan about Christians (or literally any other religion) trying to “force their religion” on them. Now, as a Christian, I do not believe in harassing people. No means no, and respect is important. I already went over how I feel that American Christians lack love and respect these days. But not all atheists are warm and fuzzy either. It is 100% your right to not believe in any god or practice any religion, and it is 100% your right to express that believe.

But you need to understand that when you attack and belittle people who practice religions, you are just as bad as the people who you condemn. An atheist who thinks they are doing a Christian “a favor” by “debunking” all of their beliefs is the same as a Christian who believes they are saving an atheist by sharing the Gospel. From an objective point of view, they are really no different. And atheists should think about how they feel when a religious person tries to upend all the science and reason and rationality that they believe to be true. Isn’t that an awful feeling? And does it make you feel good to hit Christians with that same dysphoria? I’m sure it does for a minute, but please understand that all religious people, not just Christians, have their beliefs sewn deep into their culture and their communities, and fostering seeds of doubt means jeopardizing relationships.

Someone I knew once threw a hissy fit because he went to a Muslim wedding, and his mom wasn’t allowed to show cleavage. Like, DUDE. Do you not understand how important modesty is to Muslim culture? They’re not asking you to pray five times a day facing Mecca. They’re asking you to be respectful of the other people at the wedding. The world is bigger than you, my guy.

What American Christians are doing right now is seriously wrong, but the atheists are being just as disrespectful. Both of them need to understand that if they want their beliefs to be respected, they should respect other people’s beliefs as well. I would venture to say this is true for all religions, but I personally haven’t had poor experiences with Hindus or Muslims.

You are well within your rights to share your beliefs, but PLEASE BE RESPECTFUL. Christians, stop trying to micromanage the Holy Spirit. Atheists, touch grass.

Again, THIS IS ABSOLUTELY NOT ALL ATHEISTS OR ALL AMERICAN CHRISTIANS. This is based on my personal experiences. Respectful atheists and respectful American Christians, please sound off in the reblogs so I know you exist.

As always, educate me if I’m misinformed. Thanks for sticking around this long.

-kit

[cicidarkarts]

War Stories (Parts 6-10)

Parts 1-5 here Contains: cursing, graphic violence, death, blood and gore, religion/atheism/apostasy/criticism of religion, suicidal thoughts and ideations, sexism and violence towards women, referenced childhood abuse

Part 6: My Only Penance

Mariyam

That was as far as they had gotten. Idrees thought it best to teach Razaq how to read and write his late wife’s name first. Razaq’s exhausted eyes awakened in the light of the first time he wrote Mariyam’s name. Razaq had his own notebook now, far more pristine, handed over freely by one of the medical personnel.

When Idrees saw that notebook later that evening, Mariyam was scribbled all over the first few pages in different messy handwritings as Razaq tried to find the best way to handle the strokes and curves of the characters. Razaq looked 10 years younger, smiling and ecstatic to continue their journey.

Idrees started with the basics, writing each symbol and teaching Razaq what sounds and syllables they made. He wrote simple sentences that would be easy for Razaq to copy and read.

All the while, Idrees took to the nights to continue writing his thoughts. He’d grown more bold in his composition, honing his prose. His thoughts came out more freely—thoughts that he knew would get him into trouble if any of the other Talibs could read.

The only one he trusted was Razaq, who often sat beside him during the early evenings. This night was no exception. It was getting close to the time Razaq typically turned in, when the moon was at its highest point in the sky—full and so bright that it rivaled the fire.

“You write effortlessly,” said Razaq, practicing his alphabet in his own notebook. “Thank you. I’ve practiced a lot.” “One day, I’ll be able to write like that.” “Then Mariyam will have a beautiful letter.”

They sat in silence as Idrees pondered over his writing.

I see their faces in my dreams. Bloodied, encrusted with dirt and tears, staring into my soul. But it’s not vengeance they want. Neither grief nor sorrow. They force me to face what I’ve become. They haunt my restless sleep. It is my only penance.

“What are you writing?” asked Razaq. “These… These little girls. Back home. Bacha posh. My uncle allowed them to work at his factory, thinking they were boys. I knew one of them. Sort of. My old teacher’s daughter.” He gripped his notepad, pen cracking under the pressure. “I… I can’t be sure, but I think I killed them. I shot at them before we were called off to war. It’s been months and I have no idea if they’re dead or alive and it’s destroying me—” “Your teacher?” questioned Razaq. “Nurullah’s daughter? I knew her.”

Idrees’ heart leapt into his throat. His full attention shot to Razaq, who scanned him with familiar, soft eyes.

“They are alive,” said Razaq.

The notepad and pen fell from Idrees’ hands. A burst of emotions dizzied his mind and he gripped his head, trying to steady himself. Months of pent up fear and sorrow trickled out of his eyes. His body shuddered as he tried to breathe, as he tried to hold it in. His only solace: knowing he was not the end of their lives

Razaq’s arm draped across his shoulders. “Let it out. There is no shame in letting yourself feel.”

Part 7: It's In Your Hands, Idrees

Bombs fell from the skies. Whistling heralds of death. Idrees and his group darted from their hiding place, only for machine guns to fire upon them as they ran. Bullets whizzed past Idrees, cracking like whips beside his ears. Sand and dirt kicked up, men all around him screamed. He screamed, too, he was pretty sure. His throat felt like he’d swallowed nails, his chest burned like fire.

But he made it to their cover. He took potshots through the smoggy air and his blurred, adrenaline-fueled vision.

An American soldier shouted, “Grenade!”

And the horrid clinking of that metal egg disrupted their cover. The group erupted into chaos with Razaq calling the men toward him. They dove inside of the abandoned building. The ensuing explosion deafened Idrees and covered them in darkness.

When his spinning world came into focus, Idrees was curled upon the ground, protecting his stomach, one arm over top of his head. His ears rang, a sound just as horrible and disorienting no matter how many times he heard it. He just laid there, trying to catch his breath, dusty air choking his lungs.

As his ears regained their function, he was met with a muffled silence. Idrees looked up, greeted by the darkness of the abandoned building, with only specs of dust lit up from a sliver of sunlight above them. The entire front of the building had caved in.

“Sound off,” Razaq said quietly, “who’s still here?”

Everyone called their name. Two of their men were missing. Helicopters and planes zoomed overhead. A spotlight from above scanned the building. Everyone remained motionless, facedown in the dust, playing dead and hoping the US forces would move on.

It felt like he was forced to lay there for an hour, breathing in that horrible, thick dirt. The air stank of burnt almonds, hot plastic, and gunpowder. Sour saliva pooled on Idrees’ tongue and he swallowed it back down.

The spotlight left, footsteps stormed in the distance, cars backfired and skid along the sand. After a few moments, Razaq gave the okay to get up. Idrees staggered to his feet, running his hands over his body. Everything was in one piece. Somehow.

They got to work digging themselves out of the building. Every brick thrown made the foundation creak. They made a hole only big enough for everyone to crawl through. Razaq got a bit of shrapnel in his arm as he made his way out first. Even through the blood and pain, he stood at the entrance and helped everyone get out safely.

Idrees took up the rear, ensuring no one’s backpacks or guns got stuck in the opening. The sun shocked his eyes when he finally got out, so bright and harsh that it made his head hurt.

They searched the grounds for the men who didn’t make it. The first was obvious. They found pieces of him scattered near the grenade. The other was far back where they’d initially been fired upon by machine guns.

Jasim was breathing. They rushed up to him, tearing fabric off of themselves, pushing into Jasim’s wounds. But every bit was soaked through with blood. Jasim’s dark skin paled, leaving him like a frozen, shaking ghost upon the dunes.

Idrees pressed harder against the wounds but nothing stopped the flow of blood. Jasim’s breaths rattled with death. Razaq called out to anyone who could hear him over his walkie-talkie. Jasim’s eyes keyed in on Idrees, wider than Idrees thought possible.

“I don’t want to die,” said Jasim. “Don’t think about that.” “Allah abandoned us a long time ago,” Jasim wheezed, eyes staring through Idrees. “I don’t want to die. There’s nothing for me.” “Stop it, Jasim,” he said, doused in cold sweat. “You’ve survived this long, you can keep going.” “There’s no white light. Just darkness. Just… Nothing… My life is not in Allah’s hands. It’s in your hands, Idrees.”

Jasim’s chest stopped heaving. His body fell limp. His flesh was cold as ice.

Part 8: I'm Not the Man I Used to Be

Idrees wet his hands. He lathered up with that dingy soap bar that all of the men had to share. Dirt and blood washed off of his filthy skin, tainting the ground below. As he washed and stared at his hands, flashes of Jasim’s bloody body assaulted his mind.

Sanguine covered his hands. He gagged on the stench. His nails dug into his palms as he scrubbed harder. He had to get it off. He had to get the blood and grime and war off.

“It’s in your hands, Idrees,” Jasim had said. “It’s in my hands,” Idrees repeated under his breath. “It’s in my hands. It’s in my hands.”

Cold steel shocked his nerves and he tried to scrub it off. Rattling recoil from flying bullets ran down his arms and he tried to scrub it off. Familiar little feet stood before him. He avoided the eye of the teacher’s daughter and her friend. Crimson streaks dripped down their legs and stained the sands. Idrees dug his nails deep into his palm. Flesh tore open and soap burned his wounds. He kept muttering to himself, staring until his eyes dried out.

He only stopped when someone grabbed him by the shoulders. When he was whirled around, he stared up at the hulking frame of a man. His beard was scraggly like a mangy lion. His yellowed teeth bared down at Idrees.

“Are you a man or a little girl!?” he demanded. “I’m sorry, Baba,” Idrees muttered, quivering, his blood frozen in his veins. “Look at what you’re doing to yourself, you dirty rat! All you’ve ever been is a failure! You’re nothing but a blight on this family!”

He reared back a punch. Idrees winced and prepared for impact.

“Idrees!” called a different voice.

The image of his baba disappeared. Left in his place was Razaq, his soft eyes full of concern. He had Idrees by both shoulders, scanning over his bloody palms. In an instant, he pulled Idrees to his backpack and retrieved a first aid kit.

Razaq sprayed what little antibacterial he had left all over the wounds. They burned and Idrees caught a gasp between his teeth. But the pain grounded him. The little girls no longer followed behind. Jasim’s breaths no longer rattled in his head. Razaq wrapped Idrees’ shredded palms with gauze.

They sat across from one another. Idrees panted, trying to keep up with his racing heart. He stared at Razaq.

“What were you doing?” Razaq asked. “I… I couldn’t save him.” “There was nothing you could’ve done.” But his panic spiraled again. “Baba was right. I’ve always been a failure. I’m just a disappointment. I’m just a dirty rat destined for nothing—” “Idrees,” called Razaq, grabbing his shoulders and giving them a shake. “Stop it. You’ve been an asset to this group from day one. You can’t keep digging up the past just to bury yourself in it. You have to pick yourself up and keep going. Remember that you’re a different person than you used to be.”

Razaq’s form wavered in Idrees’ vision. His eyes burned as tears pooled on his lashes. Razaq tugged him into a tight hug.

He said, “You’ll keep changing and growing, but you have to do it right. Beating yourself up over things you can’t control is not the way.”

Idrees knelt there, his face in Razaq’s shoulder, letting his tears fall freely.

That night, while everyone slept, Idrees sat under the light of the moon. His heavy eyes stared at his notebook, trying to make sense of all of the words inside his head. He penned the first thing that came to mind before succumbing to exhaustion.

I’m not the man I used to be.

Part 9: A Little Peace (see the speedpaint alongside Idrees' narration of this part here on YouTube)

Idrees wasn’t sure where they were, exactly. Somewhere in Pakistan, or close to it. It all looked the same: dry desert, crumbling buildings torn apart by war, drowning in smog that made the skies cloudy. His group and a couple others had converged as the Taliban desperately tried to regain control they’d lost to the United States. Idrees didn’t really follow that sort of thing. He was more concerned about the rising tensions between his group and the two new ones.

He and Razaq were not popular. While Razaq’s unit had gotten used to their nightly ponderings and reading education, most of the members of the other two groups sneered at the idea. One of the men had accosted Idrees, lunging at him as though about to beat him, but never did. He kept spitting that reading and writing was a waste of time that could only breed blasphemers and apostates.

“Some people don’t wish to understand,” Razaq had told Idrees. “Ignorance is easy, simple. But a man fights for what he believes in. What’s important to you, Idrees?”

Idrees ruminated on Razaq’s words that day, his mind elsewhere during patrols. No one had spotted a US soldier so Idrees felt comfortable allowing his thoughts to wander. A stray dog, skinny and dirty, came up to him. He knelt down to pet her and slipped her what little food he had on him.

As he pet her, all of the war he’d witnessed slipped away. His hands didn’t tingle and itch, his mind didn’t recount the bloodied faces of dying men. It was simply him and the dog, kneeling upon warm sands, living under daylit skies that hid the stars.

It had been a long time since he’d felt such peace. Though her fur was coarse and greasy, he let himself run his fingers down her back and dig them into the fluff of her neck. She leaned into his touch and thumped with her back leg.

He watched the dust fall from her fur in the light of the warm sun, and he wondered… What was important to him? He had joined the Taliban for a reason, though he struggled to recall it now. Political power? Imaginary riches? A family that appreciated him?

He’d been promised so much only to be delivered war and fear. So what was truly important to him, now that he had nothing left?

Peace. Freedom. Authenticity. He had that during his nightly musings. With pen to paper, writing his thoughts, unfettered by doubt and fear. None of his fellow Talibs could read, except…

The dog plopped to the ground and rolled onto her back. Idrees rubbed her chest and scratched her stomach, still thinking. Razaq’s literary progress was… Amazing. Horrifying. Idrees had written so many of Razaq’s wise words in his notebook. But he’d also written blasphemous words. Unflattering words about religion and the war and his fellow man. About the treatment of those viewed as weaker. About the abuse of power from those who wield it.

To be vulnerable, to share his inner world with another without fear of judgment or retaliation. True acceptance. True peace. Like the dog trusting Idrees with her life; tender underbelly on display, risking it all just for a taste of gentleness and love.

Would he be unlucky and have someone malicious and cruel split him asunder? His bleeding heart and spilled guts on display for everyone to jeer and laugh. Like his baba. Like his uncle. 

Or would he, as the happy dog wagging her tail, be given the warmth and kindness he craved?

Part 10: Azrael

Idrees stood over the American soldier, rifle raised in the man’s bloodied face. He didn’t know how the man had come to be there, how he’d been beaten and left with nothing, but he knew the man was supposed to be his enemy. The American tried to catch his breath, sprawled out on the ground, skin pale and blue eyes wide. They stared into Idrees’ soul. The man knew he was about to die.

It would’ve been so easy. Pull the trigger. Shoot him in the head. And it’s over. But for what? A “Holy War” he didn’t believe in? Because he was told this man, whose name he did not know, was his enemy? Aiming the barrel, looking down the sights, seeing this battered, defeated soldier glaring unwaveringly at his death.

How did Idrees look to him? Vicious. Monstrous. The way he looked to those little girls he’d killed. Almost killed. Could’ve killed.

He lowered his weapon and stood upright, watching the US soldier. He could not—would not—eradicate the life of one who had no means of defense. Idrees had given that violence up a long time ago.

He turned his back on the man and left him. Perhaps he would get a bullet in his head as thanks. Maybe a knife to the spine. But still he walked away and kept his meeting a secret from the unit.

That evening, as the fire crackled and the men spit and jabbered vulgarities, he shivered in the frigid desert night.

Idrees stood on the precipice. His eyes gazed downward at the drop before him. He could do it. He could do it right now and get it all over with. His eyes looked skyward, searching for any sign not to, any good reason to keep going.

There was nothing. Just musty clouds rolling through war-stained skies. Not even stars shone through the thick smog, leaving the air above him desolate, devoid of beauty. Nothing was beautiful anymore. Not many things in his life had been beautiful to begin with. Before his baba’s smear campaign, school had been beautiful. Friends who wanted to include him in play—boys and girls alike. Teachers who cared for him.

Yet he spat in the face of Nurullah. After his baba threw scorn on Idrees’ entire education and set his studies aflame, Idrees held that same burning torch to Nurullah. Nurullah may have survived, but as Idrees learned, there are worse things than death. Pul-e-Charkhi was certainly one of them.

Idrees couldn't even handle war with a gun in his hand. If he had to relinquish his only means of defense and fight to survive, he knew he could never fight like Nurullah. He could never come out the other side.

So, then… Why shouldn't he jump?

“Idrees,” said Razaq from behind, his voice cheery. Idrees turned to see Razaq smiling down at his notebook. “Can you look this over? Make sure it's right? I think I wrote something really—”

Razaq stopped when he finally looked up. They met one another's eye, the silence between them amplifying the groups’ rowdy conversations somewhere on the bottom floors of the derelict building. Idrees turned away from the precipice and hopped down from the ledge. He walked up to Razaq and held his hand out to see the notebook. 

Idrees read the note aloud, “Dearest Mari jaan, my love for you is— hrm… Ah, eternal. This is turning out really good, Razaq, there was just a little mix-up right here.”

He helped Razaq through the mistakes, completing the first full sentence he’d ever written. The first steps in finally writing that letter to Mariyam. All of Idrees’ strength had been placed in stepping off of that ledge, leaving him with no strength left to tell Razaq how deeply his words had touched him. How Razaq’s devotion to love stirred an envy inside of his heart.

After the men had gone to sleep, and he and Razaq were left alone, Idrees sat near the dwindling fire with his notebook in hand. The American’s face just wouldn’t leave his mind. Their wordless interaction screamed at him. He wrote in his notebook to purge his thoughts.

They would claim me not a man for refusing to take the life of a kufr. Whose name and past I do not know. They believe I should not value the life of a man who does not conform to our religious beliefs. To choose compassion and love over all else. Perhaps they would stone me in retaliation, the treachery of the munaafiq.

Azrael. Malak al-Mawt. Am I so arrogant, so foolish, to declare myself the angel of death?

[bonaesperanza]

7 and 17 for the ask game!

7. I'm gonna be honest and say that this happens very rarely to me because if there's one virtue I have (and I have very few of them) it's the capacity to attribute blame correctly. So if fandom is weird about a character I usually start hating the fandom and withdrawing from at least that part of it rather than letting it influence my opinion about the character. Alternately, I'll perhaps review the canon and realize that the fandom is right and I had skipped some key details about the character or how they were presented, which will make me change my opinion about the canon character or the canon's framework overall, but I don't think that's what the question is asking.

BUT there is one notable exception, and that's Dara from the Daevabad trilogy. Which is barely a fandom LOL, like the entire series gets 2 Tumblr posts every six months, but I do love those books and I do get livid about the way the fans treat this particular character to the point that each time I see fanart of him I recoil in disgust.

I put in a cut because this turned out longer and angrier than I expected lol but I guess that is the spirit of the poll?

Basically you know the age-old debate about whether Kylo Ren fans are racist towards Finn and whether Kylo is a better or worse character than Finn and whether people just like him more because he's white etc. etc.? I generally think that's a stupid thing to hoist onto the sequel fans when it's the canon itself that encourages a superficial reading of Kylo as tragic and dramatic and of Finn as a plucky comic relief guy whose emotions shouldn't be taken seriously. But Dara and Ali from Daevabad are the perfect examples of the trend the people who complain about it are trying to highlight and I reeeaaally wish those books were more famous in wider fandom circles because we would be Having so many Discussions about them.

Dara and Ali are basically the two angles of what's a lowkey love triangle with the series' (awesome!) protagonist, Nahri. In my eyes, Dara and Nahri have so little chemistry that I nearly quit the first book 30% in because I thought it would all be about them, but YMMV I guess. Then I saw Nahri and Ali interact once, thought "man, I wish these two were being set up for a grand romance instead" and was then thrilled to discover that actually they were and the author was clearly phoning in the Dara/Nahri parts because they were there to make a point rather than to be romantic or appealing.

Dara is an asshole, but in canon, he's a well-written asshole and there's a point to his characterization. He's an extremely talented Proud Warrior Guy who is really patriotic and cares about his family and his country and about making them proud. He's also arrogant and short-tempered, but so is Ali. The thing is, Dara's superiors send him to commit genocide, and Dara does so to mixed success. Then the people he's tried to genocide come for his own people to exact revenge and brutally kill his family. This all sparks a massive civil war, in the middle of which Dara ends up trapped in a Fate Worse Than Death kind of situation for thousands of years, until he is somehow saved and joins the protagonist. He feels anguished and vengeful about his family dying but is also still chauvinistic AF and never examines his own role in all of this. He still believes that blindly following authority and being loyal to people of his religion and ethnicity is his highest moral duty. This makes him commit even more war crimes, end up in another fate worse than death situation, and only manage to get out of it by sheer luck and through the other characters being kinder towards him than he would have been in their shoes. He also always thinks he knows better than anyone else and routinely overrides Nahri's wishes because he thinks he knows what's good for her.

Now, he also has positive traits, like he's a kind and patient teacher and has a code of honor etc. etc. but his narrative is clearly about radicalization and cycles of revenge and, well, toxic masculinity. There honestly isn't much else to him.

Ali is also stubborn and arrogant, quick to judge people who are different than him, and prone to foot-in-mouth incidents. He's more of a warrior poet type, equally badass but also bookish. BUT he's also Black and a practicing Muslim, which I guess puts some people off of him. The thing is, Ali is a wayyy more complex character than Dara, he has a whole-ass family and his relationship with every one of its members is lovingly and intricately drawn by the author, and he also has nuanced and complex thoughts about his code of ethics, the system of governance of his country, his religion, and many, many other things. He is put into a lot of interesting situations and forced to make many difficult choices and is just overall a more complex and interesting character.

And still! STILL! Like 80% of fanart and fan content for this series is all about Dara, a frankly quite unsympathetic character if you think about it for more than 0.2 seconds and the flattest one of the main three to boot. I would have been content to read Dara's canon story and recognize it for the well-crafted story it is and even empathize with him (he was quite young when all that happened to him) but the amount of passionate insistence by the fans that he is the poorest meow meow and so much hotter and more interesting than Ali makes me have an irrational and visceral negative reaction whenever I see him.

17. Superficial answer?

We need more Padmé Amidala/Asajj Ventress content. For some reason I really like the idea of the two of them together and there are like 4 fics with them on Ao3 of which 3 are orgy fics with 10 different characters. The reason I like the idea of the two of them together is totally not because they represent the two types of women I tend to develop crushes on and I'm just mashing my dolls together.

Deeper answer?

I really really love those posts where people apply whichever discipline they're working in or are passionate about to fandom works? Like that biologist who made up a theory according to which Wookies and Caminoans have a common ancestor?

I can never get enough of that and wish I could see it more often. I want more biologists squinting at the weird plants in the back of scifi series. I want political theorists to try to make sense of the politics in Vorkosigan. I want art historians to try to develop a theory of how art and fashion changed between Hot and GOT.

Make me a bastard child of your fandom special interest and your professional special interest. I will eat it up, I promise.