…

if you read this and the first post, I sincerely apologize. you’re getting a hard look at the deepest recesses of my mind, open agape and oozing my most vulnerable thoughts I could ever reveal. they’re words that I need to be said, written. I find I don’t ever learn my lesson unless I talk about it. so, I hope those who care enough to read are receptive.

I kinda don't LOVE the art, but it's eh. I think it works though, maybe it'll grow on me. ^^ Keep in mind this is a head canon, don't like it don't look at it. MCU universe with me bending the rules a lot and taking inspiration from the PS4 game, bla bla bla.~ -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ~~Scorpion~~ McDonald "Mac" Gargan was a mercenary with a predisposition for cold, violent behavior, though he hid it well. But when J. Jonah Jameson ended up funding research to create an "anti-Spider-Man" to do "real good" and be a "real" superhero, Mac jumped at the opportunity. Of course, he never intended to do any good with it; all concerns were centered towards himself. He figured it would make missionary work easier to complete, not to mention the powers would be fun to wield, but since Jameson was so adamant on rivaling Spider-Man, Mac thought the concept of challenging the spider to be thrilling. And of course, it was no accident that the mutagen created for this process would be drawn from that of a scorpion, a cousin of the spider -- but more importantly, a predator of the spider. While the labs used to create this new "superhero" were government authorized (which is why Jameson felt safe enough to invest), the regulation over its work was not as good as it could have been. Moreover, the scientists working on the mutagen were not prepared for just how unstable their product would become when mixed with the DNA of a human being. They thought they did everything right, but upon infusing the scorpion-based agent with Mac's DNA, the mutation erupted and went far further than they'd intended. And with Mac already being a born psychopath with a near-total lack of conscience, the cold, self-serving nature of the animal hind brain we all possess became enhanced in him. After nearly a week spent in a sort of incubation period in a bizarre cocoon formed of hardened skin cells, Mac emerged totally transformed. He was bigger, and it was clear that the scorpion-to-human ratio was unbalanced. A hollow, blood-thirsty gaze and sharp, toothy grin adorned his face, as did armor plating all down his body. And, eerily enough, an enormous tail equipped with a massive, functioning stinger. In awe of their creation, the scientists took notes, of course, and they attempted to study Mac. Mac was patient for about an hour, but ultimately decided it wasn't wise to have so much information on him available at the ready. After destroying the lab and killing half of the scientists, Mac broke out and escaped into the city. Eventually, he had a run-in with Spider-Man, whom he easily overpowered and wounded during their first fight. But a few tries later, Spidey subdued the Scorpion, and Mac went to prison. He would be there for five solid years before being broken out by Otto Octavius, along with a few other top-tier villains and Spider-Man enemies. ~~Personality~~ Mac Gargan is a sociopath with none of his humanity left. He is ruthless and not shy to kill, and loves more to torture his opponents. He's not the most intelligent, having a bad habit of taunting even his allies a little too much and getting himself into trouble. He's basically his own worst enemy in that regard. Although he doesn't appear to think things through very well, he is clever, and enjoys snuffing out the weaknesses of his foes. ~~Physiology~~ Mac is almost twice the size of the average human. One would think that with his enhanced strength, he would be able to lift and manipulate far more weight than Spider-Man, but as it is his max weight is 5.7 tons, which is just a little more than half of what Peter can haul. Regardless, he is a powerhouse and a force to be reckoned with, and that armored tail is nothing to sneeze at. His tail is considerably stronger and more flexible than his full-arachnid cousin, and this is thanks to his human DNA. Mac is still a vertebrate; he just has a bigger, stronger musculoskeletal system now. His tailbone extends into the full length of his tail, ending with a thick joint just before the stinger, which is filled with contracting muscles that regulate how much venom he can inject into his victims. This tail is far more precise during attacks as well, and the entire appendage itself can be used as a major blunt-force weapon. The venom in Mac's tail is a potent hallucinogenic neurotoxin that, in its lowest dose, causes muscle pain and spasms around the injection site, and causes the victim to experience imaginary bodily pain as the brain's frontal lobe and sensory cortex go haywire. The amygdala, the brain's fear-processing center, kicks into high gear as "bad trips" and horrifying hallucinations begin, often in relation to the imagery of scorpions and monsters resembling Mac. Each experience is different for each individual, but more often than not, the gruesome vision involve the victim's worst fears, phobias, and even drag feelings and hallucinations related to the victim's past traumas to the surface. The brain creates nightmares that the victim's body thinks are real, causing pain and all sensory input to feel very, very real. There is a chance of surviving envenomation at a low dose, but the victim needs to be taken care of immediately. At a moderate and high dose, the victim doesn't stand a chance. Organ failure, paralysis and respiratory failure kill in roughly a minute -- and that's ignoring the wound Mac inflicts with the stinger itself. Cruelly, Mac prefers to kill or get by using lower doses, as he is fascinated with watching his victims squirm and suffer. But when patience is lost or a deed needs quick doing, a hard strike in the right place can kill his target in seconds, hardly needing venom at that point. Mac's grip is vice-like and impossible for the average person to get out of. His crushing hold on a victim is helpful, needless to say. He's not nearly as fast as Spider-Man, but he's agile enough and is an expert at concealing himself. Like the scorpion, he can climb up most surfaces, though he doesn't have scopulae hairs like Peter. Rather, he relies on his enormous claws. Mac is nocturnal, preferring to be up and about during the night. And, like a real scorpion, he glows under ultraviolet light. Scorpions are not picky eaters, but they are carnivores. They'll eat anything they can get their claws on, including other scorpions -- even their relatives. Needless to say, Mac isn't a sentimental person. During his first time out in the city, Mac first killed and ate a few farm animals, but Spider-Man stopped him while he was in the process of hunting a person. Yes, he will eat people if he gets the chance. It would be an extra nasty sight, too, as the enzymes in his saliva are designed by nature to start breaking down his food before it even gets into his mouth. It would be...unpleasant to be spit on by Mac Gargan, so to speak. Scorpions are tough animals that can survive immersion in water for up to two days, and can withstand being frozen solid. Once the ice thaws, the animal simply gets up and gets on the move again. They can also go months, even a year without eating! Yes, these durability traits apply to Mac, which makes him all the more horrifying. ~~Preference~~ Mac is straight, though understandably, has never gotten too lucky, and is very aromantic. One would think that, violent as he is, he would simply force himself onto victims, but with the scorpion instincts he possesses, that reflex is inhibited. Rather, he will attempt to sway a potential mate, and of course, it never works, much to his deep frustration. He may injure whoever turns him down, but oddly, he won't assault them. In the animal kingdom, the female scorpion gets her say-so, and that's the end of it. Even though the average female human doesn't stand a chance against him, his instincts (awkwardly) tell him that pushing it will somehow result in his destruction. Don't be mistaken, he doesn't care about the woman; he's only protecting himself. It's safe to say, Mac experiences bouts of sexual frustration...especially during mating season. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hm. What do ya know, already growin' on me ^u^

Commentaries on the Epigraphs of Rhythm of War - Part 2

The second set of epigraphs are a letter from an individual I shall call “Discord” here in the non-spoiler section. The letter is almost certainly addressed to Hoid and contains some of this wider implications for the cosmere I mentioned in part 1.

I will not be avoiding spoilers for RoW, or any other cosmere works published as of December 2020.

"Dear Wanderer, I did receive your latest communication. Please forgive formality on my part, as we have not met in person. I feel new to this role, despite my years holding it. You will admit to my relative youth, I think."

We start off by virtually telling the reader who is writing from not just the information contained in these few sentences, but how they are phrased. The big giveaways are:

The writer’s relative youth in their role (as a divinity, which we know from the rest of the letter’s contents)

The “I think” at the end of the sentence, which is part of how the character in question expresses themselves.

It is clear that this letter is from Sazed, a major character in the Mistborn series who ascended to godhood after the events of the first trilogy. They also appeared in some Oathbringer’s epigraphs. This is after the first trilogy, but before the era 2 books in the Mistborn series. When I said this book was going in hard on the Mistborn stuff, I wasn’t kidding.

An interesting bit is that I am pretty certain Sazed has met Hoid, as he helped the surviving terrispeople move to the central dominance in The Well of Ascension. I know he was in disguise at the time, so either they or I am mistaken. Either way its not that big of a deal.

"I have been fascinated to discover how much you’ve accomplished on Scadrial without me noticing your presence. How is it that you hide from Shards so well?"

"I have reached out to the others as you requested, and have received a variety of responses."

"Much as you indicate, there is a division among the other Shards I would not have anticipated."

The other gods of the cosmere are very scattered, both physically and otherwise. We’ve guessed this, but its good to have confirmation.

"Endowment at least responded to my overtures, though I have not been able to locate Invention again following our initial contact."

Endowment is the Shard making their home on Nalthis, the world on which Warbreaker takes place. They seem alright so I understand their responding. Invention however, has not been mentioned before.

"Whimsy was not terribly useful, and Mercy worries me. I do think that Valor is reasonable, and suggest you approach her again. It has been too long, in her estimation, since your last conversation."

All three Shards mentioned here are new. Sazed’s opinion on Mercy is interesting and I look forward to seeing what that implies later. Valor is likely going to be an important figure later, so looking forward to seeing her!

"The deaths of both Devotion and Dominion trouble me greatly, as I had not realized this immense power we held was something that could be broken in such a way. On my world, the power always gathered and sought a new Vessel."

Dominion and Devotion, as well as their deaths, have been brought up before in previous Stormlight books. Their deaths are what caused the cataclysm leading into the events of Elantris.

"That said, the most worrying thing I discovered in this was the wound upon the Spiritual Realm where Ambition, Mercy, and Odium clashed—and Ambition was destroyed. The effects on the planet Threnody have been … disturbing."

There is one published short story on Threnody, and oh boy do I agree with Sazed’s assessment there.

"Other Shards I cannot identify, and are hidden to me. I fear that their influence encroaches upon my world, yet I am locked into a strange inability because of the opposed powers I hold."

This likely refers to the mysterious “Trell” that becomes important in the Era 2 books. Whom I (and other) strongly suspect is Autonomy, though revelations in this book has lead me to suspect Odium’s involvement as well. If less directly.

"I have begun searching for a pathway out of this conundrum by seeking the ideal person to act on my behalf. Someone who embodies both Preservation and Ruin. A … sword, you might say, who can both protect and kill."

If there was any doubt who is writing this, it has disappeared now. I’ve spoken before on how Sazed’s choosing of the name “Harmony” may have been a touch too aspirational, which paired with the Terris Prophecies naming them “Discord” has lead to me calling him that instead.

The implication of these words here, when paired with the events of era 2, leads me to believe they are attempting to mold Wax into someone who can act on other worlds for him. Either though making him their champion, their avatar or even a more suited vessel for the Shard’s conflicting intent.

"But this does not get to the core of your letter. I have encouraged those who would speak to me to heed your warnings, but all seem content to ignore Odium for the time being. In their opinion, he is no threat as long as he remains confined in the Rosharan system."

"I do not share their attitude. If you can, as you suppose, maintain Odium’s prison for now, it would give us necessary time to plan. This is a threat beyond the capacity of one Shard to face."

The other Shards’ lack of interest in dealing with the situation is concerning. If understandable, given that Odium has killed several other Shards already.

"Unfortunately, as proven by my own situation, the combination of Shards is not always a path to greater power."

Again, hammering in on Preservation and Ruin’s conflicting intents, and the likely part of the reason Odium didn’t take his fallen enemies’ shards for himself. Though interestingly, in Preservation and Ruin’s case, they needed to work together to create. And as Harmony, Discord, whatever you want to call them, Sazed has access to that power of creation.

"We must assume that Odium has realized this, and is seeking a singular, terrible goal: the destruction—and somehow Splintering or otherwise making impotent—of all Shards other than him."

"To combine powers would change and distort who Odium is. So instead of absorbing others, he destroys them. Since we are all essentially infinite, he needs no more power. Destroying and Splintering the other Shards would leave Odium as the sole god, unchanged and uncorrupted by other influences."

Basically confirming what I said above about Odium.

"You say that the power itself must be treated as separate in our minds from the Vessel who controls it."

"I find this difficult to do on an intrinsic level, as although I am neither Ruin nor Preservation, they make up me."

While this is true to an extent, you can say the same of any dichotomy. But I suppose Sazed’s mortal life as a scholar of Scadrian religions, a lot of which involve pantheons of two opposite gods, influences his worldview here.

"Regardless, I will try to do as you suggest. However, you seem more afraid of the Vessel. I warn you that this is a flaw in your understanding."

Hoid knew Rayse before he took up Odium, and did not have a high opinion of the man before he merged with God’s Divine Wrath. I doubt becoming concentrated divine malice has improved his attitude.

"You have not felt what I have. You have not known what I have. You rejected that chance—and wisely, I think."

Nothing like attaining divinity to realize that you probably shouldn’t want to attain divinity.

"However, though you think not as a mortal, you are their kin. The power of Odium’s Shard is more dangerous than the mind behind it. Particularly since any Investiture seems to gain a will of its own when not controlled."

Hm, this is setup for what happens towards the end of the book isn’t it? As well as a mention of high concentrations of investiture attaining sentience. Like spren, or Nightblood.

"My instincts say that the power of Odium is not being controlled well. The Vessel will be adapted to the power’s will. And after this long, if Odium is still seeking to destroy, then it is because of the power."

Yeah, definitely setup. Later appearances of Odium in this book shows Rayse falling apart after his personal plans failing.

"Of course, I admit this is a small quibble. A difference of semantics more than anything."

Ever diplomatic, ey Saze?

"In truth, it would be a combination of a Vessel’s craftiness and the power’s Intent that we should fear most."

<sweats in Taravangian>

"Regardless, please make yourself known to me when you travel my lands. It is distressing that you think you need to move in the shadows."

I am like, 85% sure he hides bc Kell would find him and kick his ass if he didn’t. The remaining 15% is knowing what other Shards would do if they learned he was on their worlds.

Whumptober 4: Caged

The Dragon Prince, Ethari-centered, Ruthari, gansters AU

(After a year of writer’s block, I finally managed to spew something out, and while it’s so not up to my old standards [please forgive the rusty English; also, it was about 2-3 AM], it’s gotta do for now. Perhaps I’ll rewrite it after the event is done and I have more time to write for all the prompts I have planned out and in the end been unable to get to.

Still, Ruthari content is Ruthari content, so here goes nothing.)

*~*~*

Ethari stared at the people filing into his workshop with an odd sense of detachment.

He had been working on a necklace for one of his clients, something worthy of a grand engagement, when the door burst open and six people came in. He could see two more through the windows but the pair remained outside.

The people inside were well-dressed in dark green, blue or purple suits – and carried knives and guns, quite openly. They scanned his workplace and made sure nobody else was there, and then one of them approached.

The sides and back of his head were shaven, leaving an artistically messy strip of pale blond hair at the top. His eyebrows were thick and dark, and his hazel eyes gave Ethari a quick once-over.

The young craftsman couldn’t help his gaze travelling to the two earrings adorning the man’s left ear before looking into his indifferent eyes.

‘Come on,’ the man murmured, gesturing with his head to the door. As he took a step back to make space for Ethari, his hand ventured towards one of his guns.

Ethari might have been bigger than any of the men – courtesy of indulging in blacksmithing every now and again – but he knew better than to argue. He stood up from his stool and walked to the door. The two people stationed there barely looked at him, focused instead on the street. Once outside, he paused and let the man lead the way. He noticed two of the people remained in his shop.

As they walked through the alleys, Ethari couldn’t help his growing agitation. He didn’t know where they were going or why. He didn’t know whether his skills were needed or if he was being taken for some other reason. He didn’t know if something had happened elsewhere in the city.

He noticed people staring at them from afar but once they walked closer, everyone got out of their path and averted their gazes. The Moonshadows may have been known to never cause unnecessary trouble but it wasn’t wise to get in their way without a good reason regardless.

After all, who in their right mind chose to have contacts with gangsters?

The corner of Ethari’s mouth wandered upwards at the thought and a small snort escaped him, earning him the attention of the woman and one of the men, but he just shook his head.

Finally, they arrived at the warehousing area and he was ushered into one of the buildings. Outside, it looked quite decrepit but on the inside the conditions were better than in most ordinary houses of Silvergrove.

One of Ethari’s eyebrows twitched when he noticed a lone desk and chair in the far corner, far enough away from a few massive tables in the centre of the room – and very far from the entrance.

The leader of the group approached him and gestured towards the desk. ‘Make yourself comfortable. It’ll take a while.’

Without any real choice, Ethari walked over and let himself inspect the furniture. The big tables were made crudely, without any finesse. After all, it was pretty clear they weren’t there for aesthetic purposes.

The desk was an entirely different story, though. There were ornate decorations etched into the wood – ebony, if Ethari wasn’t horribly mistaken. The chair was high-backed and upholstered, a single silken cushion placed on the seat. There were sheets of paper, pencils, pens and measuring tools placed neatly in one of the desk’s corners.

Ethari looked back to the four people watching him closely and sat down with a heavy sigh. He reached for the paper, immediately noticing its ridiculously high quality.

What should he do? Design some weapons, probably. He had never planned on taking his career in this direction but he would be lying through his teeth if he said he hadn’t made anything deadly.

He reached for the pencils and started sketching out an idea he had been entertaining for a while. It was of a knife that could be turned into a hook or have its blade retract altogether to conceal its purpose, depending on the gestures of its user.

For the first hour he ignored a bunch of people that came in or left the warehouse, and focused on his schematics. But eventually, his attention started straying from his task. He watched the woman from before, took in her blue suit, the braided hair with exquisite ornaments. He knew she noticed him looking but ignored him completely.

Growing more and more frustrated – the wave after wave of worry and trepidation making him increasingly more irritable – he decided to abandon his project and focus on something else. Something he had been putting off for too long.

He grabbed a new sheet and started sketching out two circular objects. Finally allowing himself to focus on the positives in his life, he remembered all the good things the last couple of years had brought him. He had never expected to find himself in that place but he was more than happy with how things had played out.

His lips pulled into a soft smile when he created something delicate and peaceful rather than lethal.

Suddenly, there was a presence at his side and he looked up to see one of the other men coming to a stop next to him. His suit was dark green with black elements. He had half of his hair braided at the side of his head, while the rest remained loose. He glanced at Ethari’s new project and smiled.

‘Can’t wait, eh?’ he asked in a thick accent.

Ethari gave him a little smile and shrugged. ‘You know how it is.’

The man nodded curtly. ‘Let me know if you need anything. We’ve run into some trouble with the Katolis’ scum so there’s some issues with the net but I can’t see why you shouldn’t make yourself at home here while we wait.’

‘Thank you, Skor. Unless you can tell me what’s going on, I’m good.’

Skor winced and looked away. Ethari knew what that meant. The information was there, he just wasn’t privy to it. Of course. He was kept in a confinement, with guards watching his every move. What else did he expect?

Suddenly, there was commotion at the entrance. Three Moonshadows entered, limping and swearing. The soles of their boots left bloody footprints on the polished floorboards.

‘What happened?!’ the leader of the group yelled, striding towards his wounded comrades.

‘What the fuck do you think happened, Callisto?’ one of them snarled. ‘Fucking Katolis’ scumbags set an ambush. That fucker Viren orchestrated it. Killed at least three of us. We should have killed him when we had the chance.’

Callisto took a step back when the man started coughing up blood, and got his people’s attention. ‘Ram, take care of them. Andromeda, you go up on the roof and prepare a lookout. We need to know if we’re approached and by whom. We might need to help some of ours get here. Skor, we haven’t heard from the Boss. Find him.’

As he spoke, a few more Moonshadows entered the warehouse and Ethari felt the walls coming down around him.

He really was locked in a wooden box, with more and more gangsters coming in and watching him, while out there, something horrible was happening. He was in a cage and couldn’t get out. He couldn’t—

Tunnel vision and laboured breathing. He had to grab the back of the chair he had been sitting on just moments ago lest he fell. When had he even gotten up? He was shaking and couldn’t focus on anything beside the overwhelming need to go out of there and do something, before it was too late.

But all of a sudden, the door burst open once more and a lone figure walked inside.

‘Boss, you’re fine,’ Callisto said, relief clear on his face.

The leader of the Moonshadows wore a three piece suit and an unbuttoned pea coat on top of it. They were all  in dark blue or green shades, matching each other perfectly. His hair was white, long and partially braided. His piercing turquoise eyes searched the inside of the warehouse and focused on Ethari.

The young craftsman barely registered what was happening before the gangster’s long legs carried him through the room and into Ethari’s personal space. He began to relax only when he felt hands on his cheeks and lips crashing with his own.

His hands latched onto the other man’s vest and pulled him closer, the excruciating weight of fear lifting off his shoulders.

‘Runaan,’ he murmured against his lips, earning himself a bone-crushing embrace.

‘I’m sorry for worrying you,’ Runaan whispered. ‘Viren was making a move against us and I needed to know you were safe.’

‘I was scared something happened to you.’

Runaan pressed their foreheads together hastily. ‘I promised you I’d be fine. Don’t worry.’

Ethari gave him a weak smile. ‘Somebody has to.’

Unwillingly, they let each other go but kept their hands intertwined when Runaan turned to his people and started giving orders. Within moments, they had their plan of action and most of the gangsters left to do their part to ensure Katolis wouldn’t be able to deal any more damage.

Runaan was making plans for the immediate future when he noticed Ethari’s designs on the desk. He reached for one of them and picked it up, a warm smile adorning his face.

‘Think you can make these before the wedding?’

Ethari tore his gaze away from Runaan’s beautiful face to the two wedding rings he had sketched out.

He felt a grin splitting his face as he pulled his fiancé into yet another kiss, knowing he’d steal plenty more later on, when all the Moonshadows were safe and accounted for, and the two retired for the night.

’Why don’t we see?’

“Sometimes the most corrupt people are the ones who seem the most pious”

I can’t even seem to find the words to explain this because I’m overwhelmed with emotion. But I’ll try. Perhaps this may benefit someone in a similar situation or give another person the courage to speak up, as no one did for me.

Exactly a year ago, on this very day, my stalker came to an event I was hosting at my university. He sat in the audience watching me and I had immediately noticed him but I tried to ignore it while I was speaking. By the time the event ended, around 9 pm, I didn’t see him around so I felt a bit relieved and naively thought that it was safe for me to head home. While I was walking to my car, he cornered me in an isolated hallway. I remember the feeling of fear and confusion. And I vividly remember all the threats.

“I will make your life miserable”

“You don’t know what I can do”

“Do you think anyone will ever take your word over an Imam’s?”

“You’re a foolish little girl”

“Never underestimate someone who works for Allah”

And for what? Why? All because I didn’t return his advances. For five years this man, the Imam of my masjid, had been stalking me and harrassing me. And wallahi there was not even one instance in that five years where I had ever entertained him.

It started when I first moved here. On my very first day in the community, I remember he approached my mother and I and introduced himself which we didn’t find unusual. Then a few weeks later, I started getting random texts from an unknown # and I found out it was him. Somehow he had gotten my number and as soon as I realized it was him I instantly felt strange and would NEVER respond. This would make him angry and in return, he’d message things like “Why don’t you respond?” “Why don’t you like me?” This would happen repeatedly until I would finally respond with an “I’m sorry I’ve been very busy”.

I was 15 at the time and although I couldn’t understand why he would be texting me, I kept telling myself “He’s an Imam, you’re overthinking this!” He then started calling me late in the evening or messaging me during the school day asking if he could pick me up early and take me out. Again, I refused all of these advances but was left absolutely confused by his actions.

At the time, my father had to work across the country and we would only see him once every few months. I was living in a new town in a completely different state with my mother and younger siblings. Wallahi, so as to not burden or add any stress on my mother, I kept my doubts about this man to myself. I kept telling myself that I was mistaken and despite the fact that all of this didn’t make sense to me, that I needed to “make 70 excuses for him”. But again, I was only a naive 15 year old who had a very sheltered upbringing. I saw red flags but my naivety blinded me from the reality of what was going on.

Over the next four years, this man would text my friends while impersonating me (using a texting app), he would show up to places I was at, tell me how everyone in the community, including my friends at the masjid hated me, and just a number of other messed up things. He would tell me that someone did black magic on me and that a jinn was harassing me. I admit, I was naive for believing any of this but I could not understand why someone “of the deen” (as he called himself) would want to hurt me? Any time a brother approached me for marriage, he would intervene and would tell them absolute lies about me (which my parents were later informed of). And the list goes on. The point is, I kept quiet because I was unsure of whether I was overthinking or misinterpreting his actions because in my mind he was an “Imam” and would never do such things for the wrong reasons. Any time I expressed to him that I was feeling uncomfortable or didn’t want him to contact me, he would follow up with a “How dare you question me? Do you know who I am? Wallah, you are a fool. Wallah, you are crazy. Wallah, you will pay for trying to ruin my reputation.”

Other teens, both brothers and sisters, would notice how the Imam was treating me. Any time any of them tried to intervene, he would play the “Man of Deen” card. He would manipulate all of us using his authority and the religion to keep us quiet. He used to threaten some of the brothers my age by saying “I know what you did last night. I have a jinn who whispers things to me” anytime they tried to intervene.

For FIVE years this man harassed me. And after the night he showed up to my uni event, I finally decided to tell my parents. I finally realized that I wasn’t overthinking or ‘corrupt’ (as he would call me anytime I tried to question him). When I told my parents, Alhamdulilah they immediately believed me and decided to take things to the masjid. However, of course, the masjid could not act on my words alone and so they had to hear his side as well. In his true manipulative fashion, he said absolutely terrible things about me and my character. He slandered my name and said the worst of the worst things. He had the audacity to say that I came to him for help and that he was acting as an ‘elder brother’ looking out for me. He told people that I was suicidal (!) and wanted to run away with some guy who my parents wouldn’t allow me to marry (WALLAHI this is untrue). And he even spread the rumor that my father would beat me so I was afraid of him (‘which is why I was lying and trying to cover up the situation’ according to him). He knew exactly what to say to convince everyone that I was in the wrong and to save his face.

While all of this was going on, I felt so weak and oppressed. Yes, I had my parents but I felt that people of my community doubted my character and my integrity when I was innocent. It was my word again his. A little girl (though I was already 20 at the time) vs the well-respected Imam of our community. There were days were I could not stop crying and days I could not get myself to eat. I was so stressed and confused as to why this was happening. I was very involved with my masjid and had never given them a reason to doubt me, so why now, when I was coming with such a serious claim, did they turn their backs on me? I felt betrayed, angry, confused, but most importantly, oppressed. And throughout this time, I would make one particular duaa. “May Allah grant me justice against those who have oppressed me”.

There were times where I thought to myself “Maybe I shouldn���t have spoken up and just quietly dealt with his harassment on my own”. I didn’t want to create problems for my family or even for my community for that matter. But I swear by Allah, what got me through was the thought that ‘This could be happening to someone else, who is weaker or doesn’t have the support at home, or the ability to reject his advances. What if it’s an even younger girl? Or a revert?’. I kept telling myself that Allah has given me a voice to speak and a mind to think for those that can’t. It was my responsibility to speak the truth regardless of what other people thought of me, no matter how scared I was. 

While all of this was happening, there was one sister who knew the complete truth about what was going on. She had all the evidence and was someone I had confided in for the previous five years. She was someone I considered my best friend and trusted with my life. And when the time came for her to present the evidence, she was too scared. While I won’t go into more detail, all I can say is that the person whom I would have given my life for, abandoned me and allowed for my name and reputation to be dragged through the mud, despite knowing of my innocence. She knew the truth, had evidence that could ‘save’ me yet she chose to keep silent. She was a witness to all the threats and injustices against me but instead, she hid the truth.

Despite all of this, when even the closest person to me had left me, Allah saved me. Wallahi, things got so bad to the point that I considered running away to escape the stress and trauma. I swear to you that Allah created a path for me where there was none. And not only that, but He granted me an outcome that I could have never imagined. Alhamdulilah. Alhamdulilah. Alhamdulilah. Allah granted me my justice and even more. Alhamdulilah. 

I am sharing this in the hopes that even one of you may benefit from my story. It took five years, but Allah delivered on his promise and granted me ease. Allah answered my duaas and granted me justice against all of those who had oppressed me. I want you to know, if you’re losing faith, struggling, or in a situation that you feel has no solution, then know that Wallahi I felt the same way. I want you to hang in there and keep praying to Allah because I promise to you, He is listening and that after your hardship there will be ease. I have witnessed it myself. May Allah ease all of your worries, struggles, and sadness. May He replace it with His mercy, blessings, and all that is good in this world and the next. Ameen.

The last thing I want to stress is that it is your duty to speak the truth even when it is difficult for you. Someone may suffer the consequences of your selfishness/negligence in a matter as serious as this. As long as you are doing what is right, have no fear for Allah is with you. And even if the whole world were to gather together in order to harm you, they would not be able to if Allah is with you.  

The Things We Do For Love - Chapter Eight

The worst part of loving someone is realizing you need to let them go. Unless you didn’t have to… Unless you never knew.

ff.net // wattpad

CHAPTER EIGHT: Words of Wisdom

It was beautiful. The way the sunrays slipped through the cracks on the roof setting an angelic glow over all the most ordinary things piling around the barn. Lucas sat in silence on a heap of hay that could have easily been mistaken for gold as it shimmered under the sunlight, observing the world awaken around him. He could hear the horses' steady breaths and the roosters in the distance announcing a new dawn. He was engulfed in the epitome of peace and yet his heart was filled with anything but. Two years today, he thought to himself, two years away from her.

He had hoped it would get easier over time, he'd hoped he might move on. Lucas had been trying to live life as best as he could and, even if he wouldn't admit it to anyone but himself... he was still trying to live a life that would make her proud. He may have not been good enough for Riley then, but it didn't mean Lucas would give up trying, it didn't mean he didn't want to be worthy of her still, even if she'd never know, he owned it to himself and to her to become the best man he could possibly be.

Lucas rubbed his eyes, burning from the little sleep he got that night. He stretched and forced himself up to his feet, walking over to the horse. Not even twelve hours ago, Pappy Joe had called saying Sophia had gotten worse. Lucas didn't need him to finish, a moment later he was speeding from College Station back to Austin, in the pickup truck his grandfather had surprised him with as a welcome gift, when he moved back to Texas.

He was thankful his classes hadn't started yet, though deep down Lucas knew he would have gone regardless. He had to be there. It was already dark when he arrived at the ranch, going straight to the barn where a worried Joe waited for him. Of course Sophia meant a lot to Lucas, that horse had played an important part on one of the biggest decisions of his life. However, if he were completely honest, he had mostly come for his grandpa, not for her.

Joe wasn't the most sentimental of all people, but when it came to his loved ones, human or not, his devotion knew no limits, reason why Lucas had to assure him about a million times that he would watch Sophia all through the night, in order to convince his grandfather to go back inside and get some sleep. The old man hadn't been feeling so well lately, he wasn't the same strong Joe that welcomed Lucas back to his hometown two years ago. He had lost a lot of weight, which he insisted was something to pride himself for, but Lucas couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, despite Pappy Joe's easiness about it all. And it wasn't just that, Joe got tired a lot easier and faster nowadays and his once insatiable appetite was gone. Still the man was stubborn as a mule; he insisted he was fine, ignoring his grandson's persistence that he saw a doctor.

The blonde did his best to shake his worries away as he entered Sofia's stable. She wasn't getting any better, though it was already a small miracle she was still standing. She'd been doing poorly long before Lucas moved to the lone star state and things had only gotten worse since. She was old and tired, but a true fighter. Nevertheless, he doubted she would make it through another night. Lucas hugged her neck and patted her back, just like he'd done over a decade ago when he helped deliver her baby on this same barn, suddenly feeling like that terrified little boy again, except this time it wasn't the birth or a life that scared him, but the death of one.

"How's our girl doing?" Joe limped into the barn, smiling at his grandson, though it didn't quite reach his worry filled eyes.

"Not so good." Lucas looked from Joe to Sophia and back, his heart breaking for both of them "Pappy Joe, I'm going to be honest with you, I don't think she will make it through tonight." Joe nodded, averting his eyes to the ground as he chewed on his bottom lip "I'm really sorry."

"I know you are, boy. I am too." He took a deep breath, his expression softening ever so slightly "Do you have to be back on Campus yet? I was planning on making us some breakfast. What do you say? Care to spend some time with your old man?"

"I'd love to." He smiled sadly, watching as his grandfather turned around, walking with difficulty back to the house.

Lucas wasn't lying. Over the last two years he'd grown much closer to Pappy Joe. They had always had a good relationship, but their bond had strengthened considerably since Lucas's move. The first six months were hell, he'd admit to that. Back then, Lucas resented all things Texas. During those dark months, he had barely seen his grandfather at all, always coming up with excuses not to visit, he either had to study or he had a test or a project, whatever it was, there was always some matter he couldn't possibly postpone keeping him busy, which was funny considering he damn near failed his first semester.

He couldn't find it in him to focus. He hated college, his classes, his dorm room and even his roommate, with whom he wouldn't exchange anymore words than strictly necessary. He'd also drink. A lot. Lucas was spiraling, a small part of him knew so, but for the most part he didn't care. Until one night, when he picked a fight with a guy in a bar, over something so stupid he couldn't even remember now. Lucas went back to his dorm late that night, bleeding, bruised and more than a little drunk, trying to reach the bathroom as silently as he could, but failing not to wake up his roomie, Nate, who much to Lucas's surprise didn't hesitate to help, even though he had no reason to show him any kind of mercy.

He had treated the guy like crap for months and still the redhead didn't give it a second thought before leaving their room only to return a few minutes later with an ice bag and a first aid kit. Lucas laid in bed that night unable to fall asleep. He had done his best to keep his mind off of her since arriving in Texas, but for the first time since leaving New York Lucas allowed himself to openly think about Riley Matthews. It might have been Nate's kindness, the fact he cared for Lucas when no one else did, when he didn't even deserve it... it reminded him of Riley. Hell, he hadn't gotten into a fight ever since she'd walked into his life, he'd thanked her over and over again for helping him accept and control that side of himself, for believing in him, for being his calming influence. Now look at me, he thought bitterly. Lucas suddenly felt disgusted.

He woke up the next morning determined to turn his life around. He would make her proud. He apologized to Nate for his behavior over the previous months and thanked him yet again for being there for him when no one else was. Lucas dived into work, tearing through his books and whenever his will wavered he'd just look himself in the mirror, staring at the scar above his right eyebrow, a permanent reminder of that fight and the man he refused to become. It wasn't easy, but he managed to pass his practically unsalvageable semester.

Even though his college life finally started to ride on the right tracks, Lucas knew he still had a lot of making up to do family wise. Lucky for him, his grandfather and parents were ready and waiting with open arms for their prodigal son to return. It took a while for things to be like they were before, Lucas had been lost and angry for a long time, said and did things he regretted, things that hurt his loved ones, but eventually they found their way past those wounds.

With time, he became good friends with Nate too and, because of his constant support, Lucas decided to try out for the football team on the beginning of his second year. Now, a year later, he was the best student on his class and the star quarterback. He should be happy, he kept telling himself that. To anyone on the outside looking in, Lucas Friar had it all. But he didn't. He had managed to put himself back together pretty well, and for that he was grateful, but there was a part of him missing, a huge part, one he could never replace.

"Luke! Are you coming or what?" He heard Pappy Joe yelling from the porch, snapping him back to reality.

"Coming!" He yelled back, leaving Sophia's stable and jogging back to the house.

He was welcomed to the kitchen with the smell of freshly brewed coffee and bacon. Lucas sat on one of the stools behind the counter, observing as his grandfather worked through the cabinets, the ever present limp in his right leg making it harder for him to move around.

"Need some help? I make some mean pancakes." He chuckled, trying to sound more relaxed than he felt.

"Oh I know you do, I taught you how for Christ's sake! It's your grandma's recipe though, so I won't take all the credit." Pappy Joe focused back on the stove "And I don't feel like pancakes. Today is more of a scrambled eggs day."

"If you say so... hey, grandpa" Lucas bit the inside of his cheek as he thought through his next words carefully "How's your leg doing?"

"Great! Just like the rest of me." He laughed "Why do you ask?"

"Hum, nothing, it's just, it looks like your limping is getting worse."

"Yeah, well, you know, just regular old man's issues. You'll understand someday." Joe waved his hand around dismissively, quickly changing the subject "So I hear you're going back to the city for the holidays this year." When his grandson shot him a curious look, Joe chuckled "Jen told me."

"Of course she did." Lucas laughed along. His mother just couldn't keep anything to herself "But yeah, I am. We talked a couple days ago and decided it was about time I go back, hum, home." Even as he said it, Lucas knew the word sounded weird coming from his mouth. New York didn't feel like home, though for some reason Texas still didn't either.

"You mean they decided?" Lucas's words failed him, his mouth agape as he stared at Joe "Oh come on, Luke. You've been avoiding New York like the plague since you moved here and you haven't stepped foot in the city again. Don't get me wrong, I love having you and your family over for the holidays, but we both know your mother is a sucker for Christmas in New York and your dad finds that stupid New Year ball drop incredibly amusing for some reason. And I know you. You're doing this for them."

"Well... yeah." He muttered, playing nervously with his fingers.

"Look, I know you didn't leave New York under the best circumstances, but whatever happened then is now two years behind you. You're better now, stronger, more mature. I don't know what you're afraid of, but it really doesn't matter. You know what we say about fears. You either ride them..."

"Or they ride you." He nodded, forcing a weak smile "Thanks, Pappy Joe."

"I'm always here for you, boy." He fixed Lucas his breakfast, placing the plate on the counter before him with a smile "I always have been."

"I know."

The rest of their morning was filled with much easier conversations than that one. Lucas helped Joe with the ranch's chores, mostly feeding the animals and cleaning after them. Soon it was noon and the Friars returned to the kitchen to cook lunch together. They watched some TV and finally gave in to their tradition, finding their way to the porch's rocking chairs.

The afternoon flew by while Lucas filled Joe in on how he was doing on the team. He loved playing football and it kept him busy during those few free hours he had between classes. His social life suffered from it for sure, but that was one of the perks if you asked Lucas. His packed schedule served as the perfect excuse to dodge his way out of most social events, so he only ever went to the parties he absolutely had to, he was the quarterback after all, he was required to make some appearances with the team.

Nate would constantly give him hell for it; he was always saying Lucas was very likely the quarterback to get laid the least in all history. He knew his friend had a point, even through his troubled start on college, when he was all kinds of messed up, Nate hadn't yet seen Lucas with a girl and that hadn't changed to this day, though he never asked why and Lucas didn't intend on giving him an opening to do so. Riley... she was off limits. It hurt a little less if he didn't talk about her.

But it wasn't like he had completely closed himself up. He talked to most people on his football team and he was pleasant to his classmates and teachers, he'd just rather maintain a safe distance. He'd made the mistake of getting too attached once, he wasn't looking forward to doing it again. He had his family and Nate and Lucas found that to be more than enough. He still talked to his friends in New York on occasion, mostly Zay, but it wasn't the same anymore. Time and distance had taken their toll on all of them. As for Riley, he hadn't seen or talked to her since the break up. He'd never ask about her either, afraid of what type of news he might get. Lucas knew she'd likely moved on and he wanted nothing more than for her to be happy... He'd just rather be spared the details.

Pappy Joe asked him about his classes as well, he always did, and as usual Lucas told him how in love he was with veterinary medicine. It was the right career for him, but that they'd both known for years. He described his whole schedule to his grandfather, who listened intently to every detail. Lucas then explained about the volunteer tutoring he had been doing and the extra credit he would start getting this semester, for the work he would begin at A&M's Veterinary Medical Teaching Hospital. He wasn't required to work there just yet, but his favorite teacher Mrs. Collin, given Lucas's great promise, had suggested he took an early start, so he could get more experience.

It wasn't until he was done rambling about his routine that Lucas realized he had been the only one talking for over an hour, while his grandfather simply stared at the horizon, seemingly lost in thought.

"Pappy Joe, is everything ok?"

"I don't know, Lucas, you tell me." He frowned, looking back at his grandson.

"Hum, I'm not sure I know what you mean." He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, a little intimidated under his grandfather's stare.

"You've just spent the past two hours telling me about all the exciting things you're doing on college and, while I'm happy for you, I'm also worried. You're always either on class or studying or practicing or playing or volunteering and, God, now you're about to start working at the hospital too."

"I still don't see the problem." Lucas muttered, not meeting Joe's eyes.

"It's too much, Luke. When are you living? When do you have time for yourself, for your needs, not as a student, not as the quarterback, but as Lucas Friar? Look, all I'm saying is... be careful, I know you're doing your best and you should, this is your moment to shine, just don't burn yourself out too quickly."

Lucas nodded "I'll try." He hated to lie to him.

His grandfather didn't get it. That was exactly the point. Yes, Lucas had a lot on his plate right now, but it was a win win situation. By packing up his schedule, he was not only making the most of his college experience, but he also kept himself busy enough not to think about Riley. Whenever he had too much time to spare, his mind helplessly wandered back to the pretty brunette who stole his heart in seventh grade. And no matter how fond of their memories Lucas was, the knowledge those moments were forever behind him was a knife to the heart. So he worked. Lucas worked through his every waking moment so he wouldn't get too caught up in his thoughts of Riley all the while, inwardly, doing his very best to make her proud. He decided not to argue with his grandpa about it though, he sure wasn't going to try and explain his reasons, Joe wouldn't understand even if he did. Instead, the two Friars just fell in a comfortable silence, watching the sun hide behind a distant hill.

"This was your grandmother's favorite time of the day." Joe declared softly, a unique kindness to his voice Lucas only ever heard when he talked about his late wife "We'd sit here just like this for hours. We never ran out of things to talk about. Oh Katherine, she... she never ceased to amaze me. She used to say people were like sunsets, a balance of light and dark, always different, but beautiful in their own way."

"You miss her." It wasn't a question. Pappy Joe simply rolled his head forward, a half smile gracing his features.

"Every day."

"Does it still hurt?" Lucas asked carefully. His grandfather rarely talked about Nana Katy and Lucas genuinely wanted to know, even if mostly for his own selfish reasons.

"It did. For a long time. You'd think the hardest part about losing someone you love is the separation, that very moment when you're pulled apart from the person you were supposed to spend the rest of your life with. But it isn't. The worst part is living through the aftermath. The next morning and every other one after that, when you have to get up and go about life as if a huge part of it hadn't been taken away."

"How do you make it stop?" His voice was almost inaudible, asking the question Lucas wanted more than anything to have answered.

"You don't. You wait. You do your best to keep living, even when it feels like you're just surviving. And someday, you wake up and it hurts less. Someday you wake up and the pain has turned into something else, a resigned longing, wrapped in the comfort that comes with knowing you made the most of the time you had together."

He was taken aback by his grandfather's words. Throughout his life, Pappy Joe had taught him many lessons, shared various pieces of advice, so Lucas was no stranger to his wisdom. Still, this was unlike any other conversation he had ever had with Joe. And he just so happened to have chosen today, of all days, to... That's when it hit him. Coincidence? Maybe. But Lucas didn't believe in those, something he'd learned from his grandfather himself.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I know what day it is." He admitted without a trace of hesitation, his voice calm and steady as he continued, ignoring Lucas's surprise "You might be fooling everyone else, Luke, maybe even yourself. But you ain't fooling me. And I know you don't like talking about this, so I'm only going to say it once. If you believe there's even the slightest chance you can save your relationship with Riley, do it. Do everything you can. Because that comfort I was talking about, you'll never find it if you give up. And you deserve better than to live haunted by your past and all its what ifs."

Lucas's eyes were locked on his grandfather's, but it felt like he was looking right through him, his gaze empty as his mind wandered somewhere else, on someone else, and Pappy Joe had a pretty good guess as to whom. Hopefully Lucas had understood the message. Joe had watched him hit rock bottom, rise against all odds and fight every day since to be his very best self. But beneath all that, the boy was still just as broken as he'd been when Joe picked him up at that airport. He couldn't just stand by and witness his grandson's suffering. None the less, he knew Lucas needed time, so he changed the subject.

"It's getting late, we better check on Sophia."

"Yeah. Of course."

They walked to the barn together, Lucas's mind racing with a million thoughts per second, thoughts he hadn't allowed anywhere but in his dreams for years. Had he not left all his hope at that airport back in New York? Was it possible that after all this time there was still a chance for him? For them? Was he willing to risk putting himself through all that pain again? And could he even survive it this time if it came to it?

All those questions disappeared a second later. The voices in his head went silent as he opened the door to the barn, his eyes scanning over Sophia's stable. He couldn't see her and, unfortunately, Lucas knew exactly what it meant. He closed his eyes and breathed deep, forcing his legs to take him closer to the stable, where Sophia laid lifeless on the ground. His grandfather said nothing as he walked past Lucas, crouching next to the horse, losing his balance in the process. Lucas hurried to his side, helping Joe steady himself and finally kneeling next to him, watching the old man caress Sophia's belly.

"Of course this would happen today." He muttered underneath his breath, frustrated.

"It's life, Luke. It's just life." Pappy Joe sighed "She was suffering. I hate to see her go too, but she deserves the rest." He finally looks up, his eyes finding Lucas's and a small smile curling the corners of his lips "Thank you. For helping me take care of her these last couple years and for being here today, just... thank you."

"No,Pappy Joe." He smiled back at his grandfather, Joe's words of wisdom once againreplaying through his head, a warmth he hadn't felt for a long time taking holdof his Lucas's heart "Thank you."

Halloween Decorations 3

Libra: A nice candelabra. "You know those suicide people right? What're they called… ah yeah, the football team." Yeah, they had a new movie come out and I apologize if I forgot the exact name of it. That, or I may be conflating it with my memories of the Super Bowl… world cup thingy. You know what it is: one of those big sports events that everybody comes to observe and then forget about because of the whole idea of unity under authority doesn't equate to prosperity and leads back into a lifestyle of apathy and purposelessness… Yeah, those things. I haven't gotten much today and I had no idea what I was intending with this, but it could've been a story about corn dogs and falling asleep in the couch… which is what happened today. […] Hey, do you want me to list all of these cool band names I came up with? Of course you do. Let's see, we got: Climb the Matterhorn, Roamabout, Boatswain's Conscience, Helle Over Water, Skyline Blotch, Llojj, Gohan's [Goyurt], Effortkin, Encyclopedia of Janis, Parsons Tree, bit lip, & (my personal favorite) Goddess County. Of course, there's also Goodbye Sky Harbor, but that was taken by Jimmy Eat World. So, I decided to choose it but use the English spelling of harbor, but then I discovered that an indie pop-punk band, from Ontario, used that as their name. You're free to choose any of these names, because it's not like I'm gonna start up a band anytime soon; I have absolutely no sense of rhythm. […] Oh crap, that burp really hurt to get out, and I'm not sure if it even was the burp that caused that sudden chest pain.

Cancer: Gravestones. Aw man, the sheer libido rushing through my brain at the sight of seeing a fresh bag of kettle-cooked chips is earth-shattering. I’m quaking at the thought of munching on some of those holy graces right about now. Mmm, I can almost hear them calling my name when I see them on the shelves. Right there, that's where my prized possession is: a fresh bag of only the finest kettle-cooked potato chips. […] Right before taking a bite of a chip, everything seemed to've stopped and a green field of light emitted around the entire store. I thought it was God judging me for my gluttonous behavior of denoting feelings—that'd normally arise from intercourse—with the craving of a certain type of chips, but I didn't hear any angelic voice. Secondly, I assumed that it was the director about to yell at me for my bad performance in this commercial, but I turned to see that they were all frozen too. […] What I instead heard was the sound of a… truck? Yeah, a truck, and it felt like there was one about to crash through the wall and land right in front of me. And, that's exactly what happened, only that the truck landed behind me and it landed far more gracefully than I was expecting it to. Two women stepped outside of it, both in white robes that clashed horribly with their camouflage hats, and they told me that I was guilty of participation within a bombing. I had no idea what they were talking about, but I wasn't gonna let them take me away in their hovering trucks. Now, I would say that I had a friend backing up for me here, but there's no such body, and I had to make haste around the store. […] Eventually, I got onto one of few, parked scooters, and I blasted off… I could hear their engines follow suit.

Virgo: Ghostly tree cloth. Someone ripped my freaking brain out and put it in a capsule and now I'm floating in the Black Sea. No, this wasn't like the time that my heart ended up in New England; that was different; this time, it's my actual brain in the middle of a marginal sea. If you're wondering how I'm managing to speak, it's because I kept a spare brain — the one of Sergey Shnurov, whom we call Ol' Geoff for reasons still undisclosed. Thus, my brain's being hotwired to his and I suddenly have way too much knowledge regarding Russian literature and the history of ska punk. […] While it's a temporary replacement, I'd still prefer to have my old conscience back, and I know it's still in the damn ocean because I have sudden flashes of bottlenose dolphins trying to eat at me. Right now, I'm sending out a rescue convoy from the port of Odessa and they're gonna find that damn jar no matter how many months it takes them. That, or I'm gonna have to add those lackeys to the rest of my brain collection. […] I know I may come off as intimidating or monstrous, but it's hard living a life where something so important, such as your brain, falls out as easily as stray hairs. You know, if you had to deal with something important being so easily detachable, you'd probably find some way to ensure replacements, wouldn't you? Shnurov was kind enough for me to let me use his brain after he uploaded his consciousness to the Slavic cyberspace, but you don't have to be as generous as he was; just take my advice. […] God, what dolphins keep in their mouths is disgusting.

Sagittarius: Bats, oh so many bats. «But is being goth not the perfect realization of Christianity as a death cult, which prefigures the eternity of death but releases the severe tensions of Christianity by denying eternal salvation from eternal damnation?» — I've thought about this for a while after I showed up at a convention center where there were an enormous amount of these goths. Now, I took many academic studies on the history of Catholicism and its cultural impacts on Western society, but I've never seen such a dramatic change where everybody seems to be a 2.0 version of themselves. […] I went up to this one man, and I told him about what adorning such heavily-religious imagery meant for him personally, and he replied to me, saying "Dude, what the fuck? I'm an antitheist." Promptly, I was surely mistaken to assume that his fashionable importance towards his wearing of St. Peter's cross was of religious reasons. Am I missing the link between religious ordination and fashionable adaptation here? I even brought a book on the application of religious imagery: I've kept it with me since my military endeavors in Middle Juba (they passed it out to us to help identify Islamists, but they won't tell you that in government schools). Regardless, I was still floored at the fact that such blatantly gothic imagery was being worn without any consideration towards the Catholic Church. I turned to the girl next to the man, and I explained to her as to why I was so confused. From there, she said that quote which still lingers in my head… I'm still wondering what the hell goths are: are they a hardcore music movement?