#he helped so many people myself included. what a life to live. miss him every day

[carcinized]

i miss technoblade so much

[teyamsatan]

ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ᴅᴀʏ ᴠ - ᴅᴀᴅᴅʏ ᴋɪɴᴋ

pairing: neteyam x avatar!reader (part of the cardigan saga)

➽ a/n: it's neteyam and atan's world, and we're just living in it! hi besties and welcome to day 5, aka the day that almost killed me bc writing daddy!neteyam is actually much harder to me than i thought it could be. but i wanted so much to give this day to them, since they are my forever favourite pair from my forever favourite work of mine.

you don't have to have read cardigan for this to make sense, although it helps. i hope you enjoy, i've seen a lot of you besties reading cardigan recently and it's nice to know you wouldn't have had to wait as long for this prompt as my og readers, who i've promised this to for far too long hahahhaa my bad.

finally, this will continue in another (or two) kinktober prompts, so enjoyyy ;) x

➽ words: 1.7k words

➽ warnings: it goes without saying, but all of these works (kinktober-related) are smut and therefore minors should NOT interact with them. other warnings include: anal fingering, p in v, pet names, hair pulling.

➽ taglist (x) ➽ kinktober masterlist (x)

➽ na'vi compendium: atan - light, ma 'itan - son, kalin - sweet to the taste

“Come on, ma ‘itan. You have to let go of him at some point, you know?” Letting go of your son was harder on Neteyam than either of you ever envisioned. Well, not really. In truth, he’s always been a born father - loving, caring and attentive, he has been the unofficial parent of three kids ever since he reached puberty, and yet, it’s never made him bitter or deterred. On the contrary, it seemed that the birth of your son, the sweet Kalin, only made him more enthusiastic to put everything he’s learnt about parenthood to good use with his own family. Still, there were times, like right now, where you wanted to remember what it was like to be alone with your mate, the love of your life, the man who you’ve gone trough hell and back with. Solitude was a scarce resource right now, with a babe barely over a year old, but you were lucky to have a village full of people who were more than ready and willing to help babysit, and some who were more excited about it than others - like Neytiri.

“I’ve wanted to have this little one all to myself for so long, we’re going to have so much fun!” Her little coos were adorable and once more you couldn’t help be forever grateful for the person who’s been a mum to you for years now, who loved you and has done so ever since you were born. Although so different, you couldn’t help see your own mother in her, and you were reminded to pay her and your dad a visit at the Tree of Souls. It’s been a while. 

But for now…

“We won’t be too long. Thank you for doing this, sa’nok.” 

“We might be… a little long. Isn’t that so, Atan?”

You chuckled at the quiet desperation in his voice, and, with a roll of your eyes, you clicked in the direction of the tent’s entrance, wordlessly willing him out. This was going to be fun…

It was still risky, coming to the places that used to mean so much to you once, that you had to forsake when you moved to the Metkayina, that you got back once more once you returned home, but you couldn’t help yourselves. Not when these places, this place, in particular, has been one where so many memories, all shared between you two, were made, not when it still brings goosebumps on the surface of your skin, the thought of all you’ve lived through here, from learning how to swim and climb to conceiving your little bundle of joy that was safely back home. You never realised how much being a mother would mean to you - although it was always clear how much being a father meant to Neteyam. You’ve loved him all your life, but somehow never more than when taking care of your son, then when he showered you in love and affection, when he acted like the dad and partner you always knew he would be. 

“I miss this place so much every time we don’t visit for a few days. It’s like after all these years, and all these memories… it’s part of me. It always will be. And even now, I feel like a teenager, obsessed with you, desperate to look into your eyes, excited beyond belief at every glance or touch you send my way.” 

You couldn’t believe how even despite knowing each other since birth, being there for each other every day of your lives, your heart still galloped in your chest any time he spoke, and he still had so much power over you, power to take your breath away with words… and actions.

“Whatever you say… daddy.”

Neteyam turned around almost robotically, alert and frantic as he struggled to make eye contact with you in the least amount of time possible. You chucked at his demeanour, almost predatory, tail perked and unmoving, eyes wide and pupils even more so, swallowing the beautiful yellow of his irises whole. 

“What did you just call me?” 

You smirked and curved an eyebrow in his direction, enjoying the tingly feel that came with doing so, the goosebumps peppered on your skin after being conditioned to expect him to react to it, to unleash on you demons and urges that only you could swallow, only you could help quench. 

“Fuck.” A second later he was by you, and even after a few years in this body, his reflexes still amazed you, still took you by surprise. You gulped at the intensity in his gaze, a gulp that got stuck in your throat as soon as his fingers found your neck, as soon as they wrapped around it and squeezed in just the right way so you felt euphoric, so it felt like the beginning to a night to remember. 

“Atan, you have no idea what you started. But I’ll show you. Let daddy show you.”

His sultry words made your legs clench together, a desperate if futile attempt to cease the dew gathering in your beaded loincloth and seeping past the fabric onto the soft skin of your inner thighs. 

“Turn around.” 

It never took any effort on your part to wholly and relentlessly obey your mate. He loved control and for him, only him, you loved to give it up - you loved it when he manhandled you, his strong, muscular physique perfect for such a task, made to do exactly what he was doing now, spinning you in place and pushing you gently, but forcefully by your shoulder and lower back until you were on the ground, kneeling and waiting. 

“I’m gonna need this perfect little body on all fours, Atan.”

The ground felt moist and tender beneath your hands and knees, and you were so aware of every move, every breath, every fleeting touch of his nimble fingers on your body, slowly making his way from your neck, down your spine until he reached your hips, that he gripped with both his large hands, before giving a praising, appreciative murmur at the sight before him. 

“So, so beautiful. Look at you, spread open for me, making a mess before I even touched you. Daddy’s little slut.”

You nearly snickered at how quickly he adopted and adapted to the nickname, how natural it was, rolling off his tongue, how somehow, every time he said it, you got impossibly wetter, almost panting with the desire to be filled up with his cock, with his cum. You moaned softly when you heard him spit into his hands, and could only imagine the mouthwatering sight unfolding before you as he pumped himself, before plunging into the depths of the desire that would overcome you both. When he guided his rock-hard erection to the plush of your ass, gliding it effortlessly in between your asscheeks, over and over, all you wanted to do was scream for more. It felt wondrous and dirty, and you wanted it all, wanted him everywhere, all at once, all the time. Like the mindreader he always was, he spoke before you had a chance to voice your unrealistic feverous dreams.

“Let’s start with two fingers and work our way up, how’s that sound?” You appreciated him for his thoughtfulness always, but especially now, always ready and dutiful in making sure you were prepared, that your body was capable of taking him, of taking it the way he ended up wanting to give it to you.

“Words, Atan.” 

“Sounds go-good. So good.” 

“That’s right.” 

He was taunting you now, slapping the tip of his cock on your clit, dragging it against your folds before sliding into you with ease, while plunging two fingers into your puckered hole.

“Fu-uck! Fuck! Argh!”

The feeling was beyond comprehension,  beyond your wildest fantasies. It was always this good, always this mind-blowing and yet, you have never gotten used to it, never gotten used to the amalgamation of sensations and how they’d all accumulate to a night of orgasm after orgasm, until you were passed out on his cock, too tired to even mutter a tired I love you.

His hand was soft as it trailed up your body until it reached your braided hair, that he took into his fisted hand. When he tugged on it, as he slammed back into you, you cried out, moaning garbled attempts at his name. Your head pulled backwards as he used your hair to establish a brutal, ruthless pace of both his hips and fingers, and soon enough, you could feel your first orgasm as it approached, thunderous and violent and ready to take over you. 

“I can’t wait to be a dad again, I can’t wait to see your swollen belly and know you have made me the happiest man in the world every day of my life so far and will continue to do so 'til the day I die. I can’t wait to hold your hand when you bring our baby girl into the world.”

“But not tonight, Atan. Tonight, I want to ruin you. I need to ruin you. I need to watch my cum drip out of your every perfect little hole. Do you understand?” 

A meek nod is all you managed, the sensation too overwhelming to allow for any coherent, cohesive expression, the cried-out iteration of “yes, daddy. Yes, fuck, y-yes!” only audible in your head as you screamed it with all your internalised might. 

“Good girl. Come for daddy. I want to hear you, Atan.”

His words were enough to push you over the edge, and you came, vision blinded by the high, mind numbed by the way every nerve in your body felt electrified, alight with the pleasure that didn’t seem to want to cease, not even as you squirted on his cock as he continued to pump into you, the overstimulation enough to make tears fall down your cheeks and onto the ground. 

You didn’t have time to catch your breath, no time to gather any thoughts before he leaned onto your back, whispering seductively in your ear. 

“Ready for round two? You didn’t think I was done with you yet, huh?” 

taglist: @pandoraslxna @sulieykte @blue-slxt @eywaeveng @neteyamsikran @elenamoncada-ibarra @spicymayyo @itsjazzsworld @daddysmurfslefttoenail @eyrina-avatar @iameatingmyhair @hadesbabygurl @linydoll @the-mourning-moon

(pls complete the form in the beginning of this post to be tagged)

[avatar-anna]

Matilda

summary: Harry reflects on his time spent with professor and writes a song about it

The Professor Series

The Professor Series

Harry sat alone in the studio, his song journal opened to a blank page in front of him. Everyone had left for the day already, but he decided to stay behind. There was nothing worth going back to, anyway.

“What’s going on with you?” Mitch finally asked him an hour ago. It was the third unproductive day of the week. Harry remained unusually quiet all day, not wanting to contribute to any ideas being thrown around the studio.

Harry didn’t answer his friend’s question, because the truth was too painful to admit. He was heartbroken, and he only had himself to blame.

Not that Mitch or anyone else on his team would understand. No one knew about the extraordinary woman he met in Cambridge, his professor.

Why he thought not telling her who he really was would be a good idea, Harry had no clue. But he’d done it, and now everything was completely ruined.

Y/n was gone, she didn’t even want to see him before she packed up and left to move to a different country. That stung, and it made him frustrated that she didn’t want to hear him out, but he also knew Y/n. She was overwhelmed and he had broken her trust, something he knew she didn’t give to just anyone.

What hurt most of all was that he never wanted to be one of the people in Y/n’s life to hurt her. She had such a gentle soul, had put up with so much. So many people had already been so cruel to her, including her family, who was supposed to show her love. Harry wanted to be someone in her life that was consistently good.

Tossing his journal to the side, he went over to his bag and pulled an old, beat up copy of Matilda by Roald Dahl. Harry had never read the novel before meeting his professor, but now he never went anywhere without it.

It was Y/n’s, a favorite of hers, so much so that it didn’t live on the overstuffed shelves of her Cambridge townhouse. No, it sat on her bedside table where she had easy access to it at all times. Harry had seen it the night he slept in her room. He’d never seen the inside of her bedroom before then, but when he finally did, he soaked up every little detail like a sponge. The light airiness of it all, the antique furniture, stacks of ungraded assignments waiting for her on her desk, the plain, yet finely made bed clothes. But above it all was the little stack of novels by Y/n’s bed, Matilda sitting on top.

“I’ve read hundreds of books, but this one remains my favorite,” she said when she noticed him staring at it.

“Why?” he asked her, not out of judgement, but out of curiosity.

She shrugged. “I don’t know, I just...saw myself in Matilda, I guess.“

“Well, what’s it about?”

Y/n explained, had even recited her favorite parts from memory for him. Her eyes lit up the way they always did when she talked about something she was passionate about, and Harry couldn’t help but smile.

Looking back now, Harry was so consumed with being in her bedroom and seeing her face without the mask obstructing it, that he didn’t realize how sad it was that Y/n’s favorite book was Matilda. It hurt his heart to know that a soul as kind and gentle as Y/n’s had been hurt so badly by the people who were meant to love her. But he couldn't deny the similarities between his professor and Matilda.

His memories and recollections of his time with Y/n were painful, yet Harry thought of her often. Because with the pain was the warm, cozy feeling that he'd felt when he was with her. He missed laying on the floor of her townhouse and talking about books and stars and the origins of constellation names, he missed the blunt, almost harsh honesty with which the professor spoke, he missed her collection of sweaters and mismatched socks and the smell of jasmine that lingered in her apartment. He missed the Emperor, he missed the little snort Y/n made when Harry made her laugh.

But most of all, he missed the person he was around her. Y/n was quiet, and more intelligent than Harry would ever be able to comprehend, but she imbued him with a confidence, a sense a self that he'd never felt around anyone, not even his own family. Their relationship, their friendship, was technically built on a lie, but Harry had never felt more like himself than when he was with her.

Opening up Y/n’s copy of Matilda, Harry began to read. Again.

Sometimes Matilda longed for a friend, someone like the kind, courageous people in her books.

Harry didn't know how many times he'd read this book since he'd taken it from Y/n’s desk, but that line always stuck with him. For its poignancy and the notes Y/n had made next to it in the margins and on post-it notes she'd stuck there. There was different colored ink around the quote, marking a new thought for each time she reread her favorite book.

Matilda is like me. School is very lonely without friends.

Naive. Kind and courageous people only exist between the pages of books.

I think I met someone Matilda might have longed for. He's very kind. Nice eyes.

I was wrong. But it's fine. Everyone in my life has turned out to be a disappointment, why would this be any different?

The last two notes were obviously the most recent entries, and obviously about Harry. Reading it never failed to stir butterflies and make him feel even worse for betraying his professor's trust.

Tears sprang his eyes. He wanted her to know that she wasn't wrong, that he was the kind of friend she'd always wanted.

But he hadn't been, had he?

Harry hid a huge part of himself from Y/n, had let his own fears and insecurities get in the way of being truly connected to someone. It was nice to be a version of himself that he hadn't been in a long time around her, but she deserved the truth. Harry had just been too cowardly to own up to his mistakes. And by the time he worked up the courage, she found out by looking him up online.

He couldn't tell her everything he wanted to say now, but he could do it in a way that might one day reach her, even if he did never see her again.

“Nothing about the way you were treated ever seemed especially alarming 'til now,” Harry wrote, and from there he scribbled harshly in his journal until it was done.

Staring at the song in front of him, he didn't know if it should have a place on the album or if he should just keep it to himself. Either way, he felt the tiniest bit better after writing it.

Harry packed up his things to go home. As he walked to his car, he pulled up a contact on his phone and hovered his phone over the call button. To call or not to call. Y/n wouldn't answer anyways, but sometimes he would call just to hear her voicemail.

He didn't this time, thinking he'd tortured himself enough over everything that happened for one day. Instead he called Mitch, who did answer.

“Hey, I think I have something.”

[salamanderz13]

TBB Episode 10

Spoilers for the day's episode will be discussed below, so proceed at your own risk!

I was MIA last week, but thoroughly enjoyed the episode and I have lots of thoughts about this week's episode. Last spoiler warning!

The first thing that came to my mind after watching was how inconspicuous it felt. It just seemed like there was a horrible undercurrent of dread and evil veiled behind the "adventure of the week" format. I know others have mentioned this might have been the deep breath or pause before shit starts to go down, but I don't know that I even took a breath. I felt very on edge afterwards.

But first, a few thoughts:

Last week Tech had his moment to shine as a neurodivergent cloen and I love every second of it. It added so much freaking depth to his character!

It was probably a "blink and you'll miss it" moment, but Wrecker absolutely demontrated his neurodivergence at the very beginning while they worked on the speeder. His expression of boredom and utter exasperation over something that could literally save their lives was trademark ADHD. If it's not interesting, it's not interesting and it doesn't matter that Wrecker knows how important it is. He's bored out of his mind. Similarly, Hunter reiterating that Wrecker should have preserved his rations but Wrecker replying that he was hungry was also demonstrative of ADHD. Wrecker went for instant gratification rather than the "rational" option. I struggle with both of these things myself, even when medicated, and I just really enjoyed the nuance of something that was maybe dismissed as "comic relief" by neurotypicals but was readily identifiable to my personal experience.

Hunter, man. HUNTER. My god he was smooth as silk this episode. I just can't with him. He's really out here competing with Rex for number one clone in my heart!

The writer's 100% knew what they were doing with Mokko's metal arm...the bastards.

On to speculation!

Benni has to play a role down the road or at least make some kind of appearance. His whole "I owe you" line stood out too much not to be a sign of things to come. I also find it ironic that Hunter is so deadset on keeping Omega "out of the life" but willing takes her on missions like this and treats her as one of the squad. Like, my guy, she's going to choose this path for herself and you'll have to come to terms with why you're really choosing to work for Cid if not for Omega. A reckoning is definitely coming.

I also get the feeling that TBB might be setting up Omega for an appearance in The Skeleton Crew. The focus on children in the galaxy is just too apparent to not be significant and I would absolutely love to see Omega in future content outside of The Batch. She's really grown into a compelling character this season.

Earlier I mentioned a reckoning and I definitely left this episode feeling like things are going to come to a head within The Batch and I'm genuinely starting to wonder how long they'll remain together as a squad. Many people (myself included) suspected that Echo and Hunter would butt heads (and they did briefly) but I think it'll end up being Omega and Hunter who clash. It's been said elsewhere that The Batch aren't really heroes and that it's Omega who drives them to do any sort of good when they're on missions. After her conversation with Tech, I think Omega is going to start being Echo's voice in the group, pushing them to do more, to help people.

It's hard to say what the catalyst will be that drives them towards that. The obvious one is that one of them dies. I sincerely hope the writer's don't go this route because, again, it's just too dang obvious and not satisfying (imo). Particularly with Rex/Echo. Everyone knows Echo isn't with Rex in Rebels and that Rex initially refused to fight, so something has to happen to drive that narrative. But I would argue that the death Echo is the easy way out. It would be far more interesting to see something more sinister happen to push him over the edge.

But I have seen some compelling arguments regarding Crosshair, Hunter, and Tech dying. I still think that would be the easy way out. I'm not a huge fan of the "kill a character because X needs motivation to do Y." The Walking Dead did it and I absolutely hated that kind of lazy writing. There's absolutely a time a place for killing a character, but it's used too much for shock-value in a lot of scenarios.

Given what we know of the Imperial Era, though, it wouldn't be out of the question that the show is building up to another Order 66-level tragedy. That is Star Wars afterall.

[noclue32]

New Auras (Poe Dameron x Jedi!Pilot! Reader) (She/her Pronouns) Slow burn

I just want to start off by saying a lot of the fic will contain my own personal head canons, although I try to stay as accurate as possible. Such as the planet Alzubith. Another thing that is not accurate is that I have aged Poe down to 22-25 although it still takes place shortly before The Force Awakens. I will also be using Y/N although I will try to not use it much. This is just part one! So stay tuned for later updates. Poe does not appear in this chapter, but he will next. This is a slow burn friends to lovers fic with a lot of Top Gun energy. When I start to publish the later chapters I will link them and make a masterlist. Thank you so much for reading! This is my first fic so reblogs are much appreciated :)

Master list can be found here

WC: 1,550

Chapter 1, Alzubith

Twenty-three years, twenty-three years ago. That’s how long it had been since General Leia Organa had felt the presence in the force. A new presence at the time, your presence. A few years back it started to dissipate, slowly but surely. Enough for the General to grow a concern for whoever possessed it. General Organa had become weary after every battle, knowing her time would soon end. A part of her wondered if the galaxy could ever be restored to balance, although her faith in the force assured her of peace whenever her anxieties rose. After the most recent battle, Leia was not satisfied with leaving the galaxy unsure of its tranquility. The former princess knew what she had to do, walking to her meditation room she thought of who could help complete her goal, when a certain commander came to mind. 

Alzubith, home of many terrains, outlaws, smugglers, pirates, bounty hunters and of course yourself. Other than the packs of criminals, there were not many people who lived on its grounds. Living there for quite a long time, you knew the ins and outs of the towns nearby, especially since you rarely left the atmosphere. You had left a few times on vacation, but mostly for supplies for work. It consumed most hours of your life, shipping in parts, fixing ships for the strangest people in the galaxy, fixing up Old Republic, Rebellion and Empire ships and of course learning to fly them. Even though the ladder was not a  part of the job. 

Both government bodies had dumped ships and bodies onto the land, leaving both for scavengers or whoever could take them fast enough. Leaving your mechanic shop in possession of a few of said planes. Including your favorite, a T-65 X-Wing starfighter. The same make and model used by Luke Skywalker, not including the scratches and missing parts yours had. Over the years, refurbishing it to its original state was the goal of your entire mechanic. It looked rough on the outside, but as a collective you were able to restore it to its flying ability. 

You couldn’t wait to fly it on your special day, your twenty third birthday. There was nothing particularly special to this specific anniversary, only that it was one of the only days out of the year you didn’t feel guilty giving into your own selfish desires. The day was bright and beautiful, the sun beating down on all who passed through, opposing the heavy rains common for that season. 

“Happy birthday Y/N!” Arynel beamed watching you cross to the entrance of the shop. “Any plans yet? Besides dealing with this Wookie’s broken speeder,” He announced looking inside the shop and making a teeth grit jokingly. 

Your eyes dart over to the aforementioned Wookie yelling at one of your colleagues. Sighing, you looked back to your friend and simply responded with, “I guess I have three items on the agenda now.”

“Oh yeah? What are the other two supposed to be?” Besides going out to cantinas on your birthdays, nobody on the planet ever had time to do much else.

“After the speeder, I’m gonna treat myself to a pastry and then hop onto the X-Wing before we all go out,” Smiling, you walked over to the Wookie and began helping him with his issue. That being it was almost completely destroyed. You predicted it would take hours out of your day, and you were right. 

When you were finished, you headed straight to devour your birthday pastry, starved and proud of the day's work. Nothing could beat that feeling of euphoria, except of course that of flying. You had about an hour and a half left until everyone ended their day and headed to the cantina. Just enough to get up in the air and enjoy yourself. The usual routine ensued, pushing your head into a musty unmarked helmet, pulling yourself up into the cockpit and slamming the door, lastly checking the wings and landing gear. Everything was fine, picture perfect clear for takeoff. Flipping the switches, reading the stick and yoke, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. When you found yourself in the air, the euphoria came rushing back to you. You were a great pilot of course, it made sense considering you had been in a cockpit since your infantry. The tricks, speed and turns you pulled in this bantha crap ship were no different than usual. It was when you had calmed completely when you felt it, something watching you. 

Quickly, you peered at the radar which was blank. No comms message about anyone else in the atmosphere. Despite this, you picked it up, “Hello this is Y/N Y/L/N from Bovdip’s shop. Are you reading anything near me on your radar? I’m flying the T-65 X-Wing.” Silence, nothing but it. You slowly reached for the comm mike again, “.....Is anyone there…?”

Prior to a response, your world turns black. There is nothing but silence and a thin layer of water beneath you. “Dank farrik…! Where’s the X-Wing? Where did everything go!?” Panicking, you looked for anything, anyone who could give you a response. It came to you then, a voice. Elderly and kind, welcoming and strong. 

“Y/N…. You have been avoiding your power for quite too long. We need you, you need us. I know what you can do, I have known ever since your birth. If you help us you can save the galaxy." 

Scanning the area quickly, you found nothing but darkness. "I'm not who you think I am, I've given up my abilities. I will not use them, we both know the harm they can cause." You stated blankly, trying to keep your composure. Although the voice could hear your own trembling and fear. "Who are you?" A seemingly easy question was not answered. Instead you were retorted. 

The voice spoke once more, "You have not given up your abilities. Maybe you think you have, but they surround you everyday. Embrace it. Use them on your own terms." This response stunned you as you still turned looking for the representative of it. Abruptly, you felt it, a hand on your shoulder. The hand ceased its contact when your world went back to the way it was before. 

“Y/N? Y/N? Do you read me?” A voice finally emerged from the comms, but you were astonished trying to put together any of what had just happened. The voice questioned again, “Y/N! You’re going dangerously fast, that relic isn’t going to make it!” Your direction focused back onto the comm, it was one of your fellow technicians. “Are you there!?” 

“Yes, yes I am!” Catching your breath you pulled the X-Wing’s yoke trying to slow it, wondering how you were even still in the air considering your unconsciousness from reality. You directed it back as far as you could, trying to crash land as smoothly as possible. Fortunately, you made it with a few bumps, leaving a new scratch on the underbelly of the fighter. Hopping out of the starfighter you pushed off your helmet and let the lines of sweat run down your face. Nothing could possibly awake you from the shock you had just experienced. 

Walking back to Bovdip’s shop, you were stopped by one of the other technicians, “We’re gonna be late to Enzar’s cantina if you don’t hurry up.” He noticed your eyes, distant and otherworldly as you tried to think of what to respond with. 

Sighing, your brain finally pieced together an excuse to miss out on your birthday celebration, “I think I’m gonna sit this one out. I’ve been very burnt out lately, so I’m going to sleep early today.” Before he could respond, you sat down on your speeder and drove as fast as you could. The feeling of air whipping around you as you drove home was the only thing keeping you in this reality as you ventured to your small and crowded house. The houses on your block were not made of strong material, and were all lined up against each other. They each housed one to two people, workers quarters. Flinging the door open you locked it and rested your back against it, taking the deep breaths you needed. After a second or two of your rest, your eyes peered towards a fake panel in your wall. Pulling it away, you pulled out the case you had hidden years ago. The case containing the saber given to you as a child, which you were now big enough to wield properly. Activating it, the green light bounced off the walls of your room, reminding you that it was in fact not some sort of fake toy gifted to you, but a weapon. Shii-cho was the only form you mastered, and you wondered if you even remembered it. If someone was able to connect with you through the force they would most likely know where you are. The way of the Jedi was something you had given up long ago, it was the reason you could never fully trust anyone, the reason you feared someone would come and kill you, or force you to join their cause. The first order being your main fear. 

You would soon find out who called out for you. 

--------

Thank you so much for the read !! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of New Auras.

[nerdygaymormon]

Message to a Counselor

The other day the stake presidency was doing temple recommend interviews, ecclesiastical endorsement interviews and whatever other interviews were needed. One of the interviews lasted a long time, which happens occasionally, it’s nice they spend time when someone needs it.

At the end of the night, the counselor who had done the long interview said he wanted to talk with me. The person brought up they have a family member who is trans and has changed their name, done all the surgeries, and it makes this member feel confused and not sure what to think. She wanted to know how this fits with our beliefs.

She also mentioned that there was an incident at a YSA (young single adult) activity where one person mentioned something about them being gay, and a different person said it makes him really uncomfortable that there’s a gay person here with them. 

The counselor didn’t really know how to respond. He mentioned that I’m gay and I shared a video earlier this year with the leaders of all the wards in our stake, that it gave him a new perspective that he’d never considered and wondered if I’d be willing to share with the person he interviewed.

It was late and we needed to get home, but I was thinking I should share some things with this counselor to help him better understand, to give him some perspective and ways of framing LGBTQ+ topics so he’ll be better prepared if they come up again. 

Here’s the email I sent him

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I was thinking some more about our conversation from the other night of the family member who has transitioned.

Trans people grow up with who they feel themselves to be not matching their body. This causes them a lot of stress. Trans people transition so they are living consistent with who they are in their heart and it is a way for them to love themselves.

Transitioning can mean a lot of things, including changing name & pronouns, to changing the clothes they wear, to body modification and even surgery. Research shows us that for trans people, being able to transition drastically reduces feelings of suicide and body dysmorphia and yields the best life outcomes.

Our Church Handbook says "Members and nonmembers who identify as transgender--and their family and friends--should be treated with sensitivity, kindness, compassion, and an abundance of Christlike love. All are welcome to attend Sacrament Meeting, other Sunday meetings, and social events of the Church." Elder Renlund teaches that "doctrine can never be used to justify treating others with anything less than respect and dignity." It's okay to not understand their experience and feel some discomfort, but we need to trust people make the best life choices for themselves and believe that God knows their heart & their circumstances and will judge them accordingly. 

If she wants to continue to have a relationship with this person, she should respect their name and pronouns. If she feels strongly against this, then she should quietly remove herself from their life.

I also was thinking about the YSA person who expressed discomfort at someone at church identifying as gay.

Being in the closet and pretending that I wasn't gay created hardships and trials for myself. Pretending to be someone else meant I missed out on getting to know myself. When I finally welcomed this as my reality, I could make it a strength. 

The 2nd great commandment says we are to love ourselves, that includes self-acceptance, self-respect, and self-worth. My orientation is important, and it's a wonderful thing about me, it comes with many great traits and blessings. Every queer person reaches a point where they have to choose, do I want to continue to live a safe life or do I want to live an authentic life. Our church theology may not include LGBTQ+ people, but they exist and often are quietly attending church with us. We're commanded to love our neighbor, not to send any away. LGBTQ+ individuals who come to church deserve to hear good words, to be welcomed and loved and be strengthened in the gospel. The scriptures say that whatever we do to the least, the people most in need or people who are on the margins, whatever we do to them, it's like we did it to God. The way we keep the commandment to love God is to love others and ourselves. That's the central message of the gospel. I think about Christ's example of how He treated people on the peripheries. He didn't shun them or avoid them. He ate with them, He walked with them, He cried with them, He healed their wounds, He validated them, and He listened to them. He met them where they were. These people on the margins walked away being uplifted by their interaction with Christ. I think that's a worthy goal for all of us, to leave people feeling uplifted from interacting with us.

————————————————————  

This is the response I received:

Well said David. Thank you for sharing your thoughts and perspective. This is valuable to me. I certainly do want others to feel the Savior's love through me.

Love you my friend!

[chaoticcollectivestrawberry]

This is more of a personal post than a Kotaloystan, but it does involve Kotallo so have a picture.

Kotallo’s story arc really struck me when I played this game because he expressed emotions and frustrations I have experienced myself. I live my life with a disability that affects many more aspects of my life than I let on. It's an every day thing. Now, I'm not missing a limb so I present as able bodied. And, to be fair, I am mostly able bodied.

But I have really been struggling these last few years with my disability. It is beginning to compound itself into more aspects of my life than it did even five years ago, and I am struggling to figure out how I am going to cope with it for the next few decades. I became disabled in my teens. I'm in my early 30s now. Hopefully I've got many more years to go.

But how does this relate to Kotallo? Much of his dialogue and the way he speaks about himself reminds me of how I cope with my disability and the changes I have to make to accommodate it. When Aloy meets him at Stone Crest, Kotallo insists that he will never heal. And he's partially correct. His arm will not grow back. My leg will never be fully functional. We both will have to endure neurological issues forever. Like Kotallo at the Bulwark, when he refers to himself as maimed, I use derogatory language as a way to deal with my own body image. I went so far as to have it put on a high school sports shirt in place of my name. Not healthy, I know, but there you have it. It's how I coped.

The most striking moment of Kotallo’s dialogue was when he tells Aloy that the absence of his arm is always present for him. I get this. People often ask me about my issues and the way I describe it is that I am always aware of my leg. Sometimes it hurts more and sometimes less, but I am ALWAYS aware of it. I know where it is and what it's doing all the time. Hearing that awareness mentioned in a video game... yeah. I had to take a moment.

When he finally gets to test his new arm and then immediately takes it off, he says that this is who he is now. It's not giving up; it's accepting himself for who he is and appreciating how he has changed. This is something I am still working through nearly two decades later. I hope that I will get there, but I'm also not on a NPC character arc to be wrapped up in the course of a game.

Basically, I suppose I'm saying that it was kind of a wake-up call to me that characters with whom I identify can be exciting, likable additions to media. I'm sure there are other examples, but this is the first time that I have heard dialogue from a character with a disability with which I identified SO personally. And I know people are correct when they say that I can still do stuff, even with a disability. Kotallo climbed a freaking mountain with one arm. I know it is possible. But sometimes it's just nice to play a game and say, hey, that character is going through the same thing that I went through and they're also struggling and that's okay. It's okay to not be okay.

This isn’t a pity post. It's more a cathartic exercise for myself amongst a bunch of strangers. These are emotions that I don't particularly feel comfortable sharing with people in my life because many don't consider me disabled. I try to hide it but, deep down, it is something with which I need to come to terms.

So, thank you, Guerilla Games, for including a character to whom I could relate and who could motivate me to seek a bit more help dealing with my own issues.

And making him so swoon-worthy was nice, too.

[mahayanapilgrim]

"If we are missing nonduality, our every act will lead to disappointment. How far do you go if you are a therapist trying to help an alcoholic or drug addict? If this person has somehow decided to become a drug addict for the next five thousand lifetimes, you, as a bodhisattva, must have the determination to be reborn wherever they are going to be reborn. You might, for instance, aspire to be reborn at the right time and place to be nearby him or her. Say for example, you are a bodhisattva and have been trying to help this drug addict for over two thousand lifetimes. Now, somewhere in an obscure place, their 2,042nd rebirth is going to happen.

Although you need to appear for only half a day, in order to do that you actually have to be reborn there. It is almost a waste of a complete whole life, to be reborn there just to do something that will take only half an hour, or half a day, but as a bodhisattva you must do it. That is what we call the strength and quality of relative compassion.

Now we come to the real quintessence of bodhichitta. Why does a bodhisattva have this degree of compassion? Why don't they give up? What is the real basis of their confidence? The bodhisattva realises that the notion of

"drug addict," "problem," "healing," and "being healed" are all in their own mind. The bodhisattva knows that none of this exists "out there" somewhere, externally and truly.

Based on this wisdom, the bodhisattva can develop compassion.

This understanding can really help. My own experience is like being a firefly in front of the sun. Even so, when I try to help people and things don't work according to plan, I say to myself,

"How can I get frustrated?" In the first place, I myself have set up a certain goal based on my own interpretation. In helping a person, I imagine that he or she should reach a certain level, but this is my own idea. After becoming obsessed with the idea of success, when the person is not there, I might lose hope and confidence in this person.

Sometimes we do realise that it is all our own projection, but most of the time we don't.

Instead, we think: "This is how it should be.

This is real success!" We don't realise that it is all our own interpretation. This is where we go blind. When you are helping, if you know that your so-called "help," "success," and "failure" are all in your own mind, you won't get worn out. Because you realise that it is all your mind's doing, you won't get tired. This is a very general and somewhat course example of ultimate bodhichitta. If you have this understanding, you have a complete picture of bodhichitta.

To reiterate, ultimate bodhichitta is an understanding of emptiness. Only when this is included is there a complete picture of bodhichitta. When we talk about bodhichitta, usually we make reference to something simple, such as a kind, compassionate heart, but that's not all. This is something many people have. It does not necessarily make you a bodhisattva. Of course this is not to deny that there are very kind and compassionate people.

There are people who may even sacrifice their lives for others, but still they may not be bodhisattvas. In fact, they are in danger of acting out their obsession and could end of being victimised by their goal-oriented mind.

Being too obsessed with a goal can produce a lot of side effects, such as thinking, "This is how it should work!" With this approach, a bodhisattva can lose hope and determination when things do not work out; they may even stop being a bodhisattva. Having said this, a bodhisattva should not just do things aimlessly."

[weareallstoriesintheend]

Hello! Is there any way you can do headcanons on AD characters helping a female friend who just got out of a toxic/abusive relationship? I recently just got out of one myself, but I totally, completely understand if you can't do it because of how triggering the topic is.

I’m so sorry this took me so long and thank you for trusting me with this. ❤

As someone who, up until very recently, used to work day in day out with people in/getting out of abusive relationships I want you to know this is a safe space.

Since I don’t know anything about you, nor do I need too, I have kept these as vague as possible whilst also trying to change up the story a little bit where I could. I hope at least one resonates with you. I went with small blurbs that vary in word-count to change it up in tone.

And if there is a character missing that you wanted or I'm completely off the mark please just let me know and I can add on, I just wrote the characters who are my usual Adam characters.

Sending you all the love and healing vibes 💕 Trigger Warning : Discussions of abusive relationships

Sackler

You’d asked Adam if it was ok for you to do something basic. You wanted some food in a place that you had once spent pretty much every waking moment, with one of your closest friends, that was until your ex-partner had come into your life.

It wasn’t the first time you’d done it and it probably wouldn’t be the last. It was a slip of the tongue; it had been a long time since you’d actually needed permission to simply exist. But the wounds still laid beneath the surface.

“You basically live here, what the fuck are you talking about? Go eat! You always do this and I tell you every time,” he blurted out, his tone tinged on amusement but you could tell he was put out by your question.

“Just habit I guess.”

The way he looked at you was a mixture of concern and confusion.

It just spilled out. The intense look he gave you, the silence of the room whilst he almost waited for further explanation. But it just… fell out. The years of control, the years of never being able to step foot without someone else calling the shots. You had never known how to dress, eat, who to talk too, where to go after work, without someone saying so.

All of it had made you a shell of a person, someone who had to rebuild themselves long after they should have learned to operate on their own. Someone who had to rebuild relationships, including your friendship with Sackler, whilst no one was any the wiser. The autonomy of being alive was suddenly new to you again.

He sighed, a few sounds stuttering out of his mouth before, “Fuuuuuck kid that’s…. daaaamn,”

You didn’t know how to interpret his tone; he was a hard one to read at times. Even when he was being serious his voice erred on the edge of sarcasm. Was he making fun of you or just shocked?

The first reaction that came to you was to shrug, you’d been passing it off for so long it felt like no big deal. Whenever anyone had asked you had lied, told them nothing was wrong and that your relationship was the best thing to ever happen to you.

You never turned up with bruises, that was what had convinced them you were ok. Cause how could you be being abused if there were no bruises, no evidence, nothing to show for your pain.

His hand rested on your arm, probably the most affectionate gesture you’d had out of him in a while. His thumb rubbed circles tentatively into your skin and you nodded, understanding his unspoken words.

“You’ll tell me if that happens again?” he asked quietly after a while.

You shook your head instantly, “It won’t ever, I’m not going back to that.”

“But…”

“…If it does, I will” you conceded, half-smiling to break the tension you felt. He smiled back, a curt nod was his response.

Charlie

Charlie’s face hardened to stone. You’d finally told him the truth about your ex-partner, finally explained all the lies he’d tried to call you out on so many times. He’d been nothing but a good friend to you in all the years you’d worked at the theatre and you didn’t want to keep it a secret anymore.

Your instinct told you he was angry, feeling like you’d seen that face too many times before. And too many times it had led to something you never want to experience again, for a split second your skin burned hot. You felt it creep up the back of your neck and flush your cheeks, your eyes remained wide as you silently begged him to say something.

“I’m sorry sweetheart,” he finally said, his voice cracking. Your eyebrows raised just a little, this was the first time you’d seen empathy on a mans face in a long time.

“Can I do anything?” he added hastily. You smiled, everyone had asked you that and you never felt like you had the right answer. So instead, you shook your head, reaching out to put a hand on his forearm, “A hug will do.”

You needed to feel safe in a man’s arms again, Charlie loomed over you in the most intimidating body you’d ever seen – hilariously and ironically far more intimidating than your Ex had ever physically been. Yet gentleness poured out of him, in complete opposite contrast to the vicious thorniness of your Ex.

For now, safety was all you needed. That was something your dear friend could provide.

Kylo

As you spoke, recounting the attack, you paced. Fiddling with your fingers as you stumbled, you’re your words, trying to get it all out as fast as you could. Kylo had asked about the bruises on your neck and face, knowing that you hadn’t been training in a while. You had dodged it but he was insistent, he knew. He just wanted to hear it from you.

Your pacing led you right to his feet but the intensity of his stare felt too familiar so you turned your back and walked the same path again.

You heard the rush of his saber igniting and you turned, his eyes flickered red in the light.

“Who?”

You shook your head, “It doesn’t matter.”

Through gritted teeth he repeated himself, “Who?”

You uttered a name, so quietly you hoped he hadn’t heard it. You heard the squeak of his boots as he turned towards the door behind him. The rush of it opening made you spin in place.

Your feet carried you after him, rushing along behind him trying not to get caught in the swirl of his cloak. You thought about begging him not too, that no one else needed to get hurt.

But then something clicked in your head, something sickening that struck you with delighted fear. You’d be free, you’d be safe. Months of pain would disappear and the person who dealt them out would get what they deserved.

Without consciously realizing it your feet stopped, letting Kylo get further and further away. ‘Let him go,’ a little voice in the back of your head said with a satisfied smile, ‘Let him handle it.’

Paterson

You’d sat him down, afraid one day it would all just come spilling out. It had been years and it was time, Paterson had been the only friend you’d had, one that was kept a secret from your partner. Friends wasn’t something you were allowed to have easily. Seeing as you only ever saw him when he came into the small-town bar you worked in it was easy to keep Paterson away from all that. He had been your solace when it all got too much.

One day he asked you why you never talked about your life, the bar was quiet with just you two and one old guy fast asleep in the back booth. So, you let the words come out, the whole story only really took you ten minutes to tell but it felt like an eternity.

Your eyes fixated on a small puddle of beer on the bar, you watched the light above you ripple in it as you talked.

When you looked up the brim of his eyes were lined with tears. You instantly felt like you needed to fix it, starting to mumble something about “… oh don’t worry about me” But then he took your hands in his, bringing them up to his face palms against his cheeks. He pressed soft but purposeful kisses against each, “Never again.”

Clyde

You were playing a drunken game one night after The Duck Tape had cleared out. A question came up about the worst thing that had ever happened to you.

Clyde regaled harsh and gruesome stories of war, but yours was much closer to home.

He didn’t say a word in response, dread surged through your stomach. He took two steps towards you before wrapping both arms around you. Your face smushed against the warmth of his chest made a surge relief dampen the fire of shame that boiled within you.

“I… don’t know how to respond t’ that,” You heard him mumble.

You laughed. You actually laughed, for the first time in months pure amusement filled your body. The sound felt a little alien, like a memory you had but didn’t know why.

You pulled back from him and he stared down at you, his face was often expressionless so that didn’t put you off. But you knew him well enough to know the slight extension of his pout was one of deep sympathy.

“Thank you, Clyde,” you said, stifling your giggles.

“’Fer what?”

“Just…. Thank you.”

[pastorsperspective]

How Do You Want to be Remembered?

A Blessed Friday to all! Today’s topic is the sermon from November 6th, titled: “Zakar: To Remember”. The accompanying text is from Exodus 13:3. If you missed it, I can’t help you. Sadly, our live feed was struck silent once again. I have much hope that our technical difficulties will be worked out sooner rather than later, but in the meantime, I was able to read the printed sermon notes and sit down with Pastor Chad to discuss. I really had no burning questions this week, so, we simply discussed our fond memories. Which felt very apropos given the sermon.

The message this week was filled with the hymns we all know and love, they bring back so many memories of time spent in church with my grandparents and the many times I have been blessed to provide special music for them at their church. Are you from a family of musicians or is it just you?

My Dad. Funny story; when my sister and I were young, we both needed braces. Dad had worked in the oilfield pretty much his whole life, mom was a teacher. So, to get some extra money to put our braces on, Dad took up drumming again and played gigs. I remember being young and seeing him play with a little country band that played around town. I remember at a very young age, seeing Dad play. Dad marched in the marching band. We even had a picture of my dad playing snare drum and me playing quad drums in the same exact spot years apart. Both at the Homecoming parade. So, Dad is where the music comes from. When I did band try-outs, they tested me and I remember the band director saying that I would make a really good drummer or a really good clarinet player. I did not know what a clarinet was. I knew what drums were because Dad had drums, but I just didn’t know what a clarinet was it just sounded really cool. So, I said I wanted to be a clarinet player. I went home and told my dad and he was not happy. He had started to make his peace with it and then the orthodontist was like, “Uh-uh. We’re about to put braces on. You’re not about to play the clarinet.” I had been very excited and told him about it. He asked if there was another option and I told him I could play drums and he said, “Sounds like you’re a drummer!” So, I went back to school and had to tell the band director that I couldn’t do it because of my braces and asked to play the drums. So, I played drums. I had already started teaching myself to play piano. Dad didn’t really play piano; he could play a couple songs. I was really self-learning and very passionate about it. I loved it.

 Your sermon was really centered around the music that we remember. I have so many. All the songs that you talked about; I grew up with those in the Adventist church. My grandfather always sang in church and his favorite is The Old Rugged Cross. He preaches from time to time in their church and whenever he preaches, he asks me to come and do special music. I frequently include The Old Rugged Cross because I know it’s his favorite and it’s a way to honor him in that moment.  My grandmother’s favorite is Mansion Over the Hilltop. I have lots of memories of sitting on the bathroom countertop as a young child, watching my grandfather shave and listening to him practice his songs for service. He kept a cassette player in there and he would practice over and over. I would listen to the song twice and then run off singing the entire thing. He still teases that he used to have to sing it a hundred times but I only had to hear it twice and I would know every word.

That’s awesome! I love that. That’s what it’s about, that’s what I was trying to do. Just get people to take a minute to sit and remember. This wasn’t a very big or theologically challenging message. It was just to take a moment and be in your feels and remember and allow yourself that space. I don’t think we do that enough.

Did your grandparents have favorite hymns or songs that you remember?

My granddad, he had hymns he loved, but he loved Dallas Holm songs. So, hymns, yes, but Dallas Holm songs are an instant reminder. He really liked Rise Again, He Knew Me Then; those were some of his real favorites. They’re not hymns but they’re Christian songs that he loved.

In my grandparents’ house growing up it was all classical and old hymns all the time. They never would have allowed what we call contemporary Christian music. My love of music came from my dad as well. Though I only stayed with my parents half of the time, he was always playing his records and dancing and happy when the music was on. Of course, he was playing the Beatles, Eagles, Led Zeppelin, The Who, The Doors, The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, which is one of my favorites. All the great old classic rock bands. He was happy that way, dancing to Mr. Bojangles and being silly. Music is a time machine.

Yeah, it is. It really can be. I think of music and I think it can convict us, it can empower us, it can give us strength, it can give us hope, it can give what we need and what we most deeply desire that sometimes we can’t find in the world. I’ve always loved that. I grew up singing these hymns and granted, I love Casting Crowns and I can sing Casting Crowns songs all day, but when we sing How Great Thou Art or The Old Rugged Cross, or Amazing Grace; we’re echoing not just the voices of our own relatives that we remember. There’s also those who we don’t know and have not had the opportunity to meet yet, who have been singing these hymns for decades or centuries and centuries. That’s extremely powerful! To think that I am singing the exact words that John Wesley sang at his ordination service. I don’t think we think about things like that. We’re singing the same hymns that probably carried Mother Theresa through her time of service and the difficulties that she faced. Those are just two examples. We’re singing the same hymns that Martin Luther King probably sang right before giving one of his many speeches. There’s this sainthood that undergirds these hymns that have meant so much to so many people in different ways and it’s really neat to think about.

It is. It offers this profound sense of connection to the past, or to your roots. My great grandmother lived to be 97 years old. She never learned to read and only ever learned to sign her name. She was born in a cotton farming town in Arkansas when people married at 14 or 15 and started their families. But she recognized the numbers in the hymnal. She knew all the words to her favorite songs and she knew exactly where to find them in that book, even though she couldn’t read the titles. Even in her last years she would hold the Bible or a hymnal and watch services on tv and sing the songs. She couldn’t read the words but she sure could sing them.

That is awesome. I think the service for All Saints was meaningful. It’s very difficult for many people, even for me. I barely made it through the sermon. After I sat down, I had a moment of feeling like I really needed to pull myself together. It really was an emotional service, not necessarily because of the message, but just all of it together. It really just came through for a moment to stop and remember. That’s so powerful. If we can get better as Christians at just stopping for a moment and remembering amidst the business and craziness of life. Stopping to remember is important and not just one day a year. Yes, All Saints Sunday is a special time, but I think the bigger message from All Saints is that we need to do this daily. I don’t always agree with every denomination, theologically or whatever, but one thing I’ve always respected about the Catholic church is the importance they put on having the candles constantly ready. That you can go at any time and remember and say a prayer. That I think they really got that better than the rest of us. I have always appreciated and respected that.

So, I challenge you, readers, to think about your roots, your grandparents, or wherever your love of hymns, or music in general, comes from and take some time to really bathe in that this weekend. Pull out an old record or cassette. Look at some old photo albums. Tell your kids a funny story about grandma or grandpa that maybe they didn’t know. Just continue the remembrances for a moment and think about the impact you have on the young people in your life. Consider how you'd like to be remembered.

I would like to leave you with this parting song in honor of my dad, who passed away three years ago this December. If you only listen to Christian music then skip listening to it, but it’s not vulgar, no swearing. It was one of his favorite songs: Mr. Bojangles by The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band

[xxxmasterkali]

My Emotional Attachment to Fictional Characters (Sora, Riku & Kairi)

I started delving deeper into this topic because I clearly have a strong emotional attachment to fictional characters. It's not because I believe it's unhealthy or a negative thing, but rather out of genuine curiosity about why I feel such a connection to these characters. In my case, the characters I am attached to are Sora, Riku, and Kairi from Kingdom Hearts. If you follow my page or know me, you're probably familiar with Kingdom Hearts. What I learned is that many people develop attachments to fictional characters because they see aspects of themselves or their own life experiences reflected in those characters. This is definitely true for me when it comes to the Destiny trio. I also feel I have used Kingdom Hearts in general as a coping mechanism & a way to disassociate myself from reality. That’s when it probably wasn’t very healthy.

Destiny Trio - The Destiny trio as a whole almost mirrors my life, particularly my childhood. When I was 10 years old, I moved to a new town and met two boys who were the same age as me. They played a significant role in shaping who I am today. We spent every day together, the three of us. They tried to teach me how to skateboard, we played video games together, and we would explore various places in the area, including the creek. Each day felt like an adventure with them, and those memories are some of the best I have.

Sora, Riku, and Kairi almost parallel our friendship in multiple ways. One of the boys was actually the one who introduced me to Kingdom Hearts. I remember watching the trailer and thinking, "Oh, Disney! I want that game!" He got the game before I did, and I watched him play through it. We even made jokes about how those three characters were like the three of us. He jokingly compared them racing across the beach to us, with me always being left behind like Kairi in that scene 😅🤣.

Unfortunately, I had to cut both of them out of my life at the end of high school due to being in a domestically violent relationship. Six years later, one of them messaged me, and I bumped into the other, two months later. It made me realize how toxic my life had been. They woke me up and reminded me of who I truly was. They had molded me into the person I was before, and I missed being that person. When I left my abuser, I reached out to them, and they supported me during that difficult time. I needed their help. Despite many people telling me how messed up my life was, they were the only ones who could pull me out of it. It's remarkable how much the three of us resemble these characters. So yeah, that's why the Destiny trio is my favorite trio in the Kingdom Hearts games and why I feel such a strong attachment to them.

I cherish the memories I have with them. The days we spent together were filled with laughter, excitement, and camaraderie. We would embark on new adventures every day, exploring the neighborhood, trying out new activities, and discovering hidden gems in our town. We shared countless moments of joy and friendship.

When I stumbled upon Kingdom Hearts, it became an integral part of our bond. It was more than just a game to me; it was a reflection of our own friendship. Sora, Riku, and Kairi symbolized our own dynamics, with their unique personalities and unwavering support for one another. I would often joke about how we resembled these characters, drawing parallels between our real-life experiences and their fantastical journeys.

When I encountered both of them again, in that time, it was as if the universe was giving me a second chance. Their presence reminded me of the person I used to be, the person I yearned to become once again. With their unwavering support, I found the strength to break free from my abuser and reclaim my life.

It's astonishing how our lives mirror those of the Destiny trio. Just like Sora, Riku, and Kairi, we faced hardships, separation, and eventual reunions. Our bond proved to be unbreakable, transcending time and distance. They became my guiding light, helping me navigate the darkness and emerge stronger than ever before.

The Destiny trio holds a special place in my heart, not only because of their presence in the Kingdom Hearts games, but because they represent the essence of true friendship and resilience. They remind me that no matter how challenging life may be, there are always allies by our side, ready to lift us up and inspire us to become the best versions of ourselves.

Sora & Kairi - As much as I deeply cherish the bond between Sora and Kairi, attempting to draw parallels to my own life brings up some tender emotions. However, let me dive into it and share my story. Yes, one of those boys happened to be my very first love. In fact, he was the one who introduced me to the world of gaming. We were inseparable childhood best friends and each other's first love. Our connection was truly extraordinary and unlike anything I have experienced with anyone else. Amidst constantly feeling misunderstood and invisible, having someone who comprehended me on such a profound level was irreplaceable. He genuinely cared about me, even if he struggled to express it verbally. Nevertheless, his actions spoke volumes. We would spend countless days together, just the two of us. We would hang out, watch movies, play games, and even though we were young, we engaged in meaningful conversations. Whenever I was feeling down, he was there for me. No matter how angry or upset I was, he had a knack for making me laugh. I turned to him for everything, and on my 13th birthday, he went above and beyond by handcrafting a paopu fruit as a gift. It was the most incredible present I had ever received in my entire life. Not only did it come from him, but the effort he put into it demonstrated his understanding of who I truly am as a person. He accepted me wholeheartedly, even if others might not have comprehended the significance. To us, it became a symbol of our unspoken bond. And guess what? We even had our own secret hideout 😝 Well, technically, it was a bomb shelter hidden beneath a cliff near my house, and we definitely left our marks on the walls in there. I'm sure I doodled our names somewhere in that sanctuary. We also had a special spot where we would sit and gaze at the sky, whether it was during sunset or any other time of the day or night. Sometimes, it was just the two of us, and at other times, we would be joined by our other friend. He will always hold a special place in my heart. And whenever I listen to the song "Don't Think Twice," it never fails to remind me of our unique bond.

Sora - So, I actually see a lot of myself in Sora. We share many of the same personality traits. After watching a video titled "The Psychology of Sora," I realized a lot about myself. Sora has been through a lot, yet he continues to smile and act like everything is fine. He hides his struggles until he finally breaks in KH3. That's exactly how I am. Despite the hardships I've faced, I still walk around with a smile, pretending not to be sad or hurting. I always try to focus on the positive side of things and encourage others to have faith and keep smiling.

In addition to these similarities, I can also relate to Sora in other ways. For example, like Sora, I can sometimes be a little dense. I often forget things or take a moment to process information. Sometimes things go over my head or I simply don't notice them. However, just like Sora, I am also a goofball who loves making people laugh. I enjoy being silly and bringing joy to others through humor. In fact, I think I'm just as much of a dork as he is. Overall, I share many personality traits with Sora and these connections have helped me to better understand myself.

Kairi - Aside from being Sora's love interest and my connection to her relationship with Sora, I can relate to how Kairi feels as a person. We both grew up with 2 boys, & she is constantly seen as fragile or the damsel in distress compared to Sora and Riku. I can relate to this feeling too. I always tried to measure up to my best friends, doing whatever they were doing to prove that I was just as good as they were. But I always fell short, and it was frustrating. Being seen as the weak link was a blow to my self-esteem and pride, not that they ever saw me this way. I don't believe they did, they always tried to help me get better at whatever it was we were doing. I wanted to be able to do everything they could do and be strong like them. Sometimes, I felt left behind or put on the sidelines. Even when I'm not with them, I'm still seen as "fragile." However, when people see me lose my composure, they're surprised that a 100lb, 5-foot girl has a "take no shit" side. Well, they were never surprised. They knew that's who I was. I feel that this is also Kairi's character. She doesn't tolerate anyone's mistreatment and stands up for herself. That's who I am too, so when I got caught up in that toxic relationship, I lost that part of myself, but I have regained it back. She is strong, not just physically, but also in terms of what she has accomplished, despite what some fans may say. Kairi has a strong heart, and so do I. Kairi is also resilient and determined. I share these traits as well. Kairi has always believed that she and Sora will find their way back to each other, and I believe the same in my case. I won't lose faith that I'll see him again. They're both out adventuring while I'm stuck here! Jerks 😂😝 But hopefully, someday I can join them.

"I need to become stronger, & when I do, I'll be right there next to you & Sora."

So, that's why I have such an emotional attachment to these characters. I truly believe that everything happens for a reason, even the little things. Considering how much I relate to these characters and how they resemble my best friends, I believe that this game came into my life at the perfect time and in the perfect way for a reason. 🥰

[thelordwhohealsyou]

Unfortunately, healing is not even in the forefront of the minds of most Christians. The subject has been relegated to medical doctors and considered to be the false work of religious charlatans posing as TV evangelists. It seems like most people have given up the hope or expectation of God’s healing, and apart from a quick and simple prayer pertaining to “if it’s Gods will,” nothing much is expected of God as Healer.

Often mainstream theologies claim that God makes us sick for His purpose to be fulfilled in our lives, and we are to be thankful and pray, “If it’s Your will, then heal me.” No one stops to think. No one even examines the biblical veracity of this belief in healing. It seems that the second most popular way to pray for the sick is to pray for wisdom for the doctors. Is there anyone in the Bible that prayed this way? It sounds good, but is it biblical; is it the most effective prayer that can be prayed? It is so thoroughly ingrained in many that it is unthinkable to question this line of thought. The second most popular approach is the opposing view—that it is God’s will for all to be healed and that all one needs is more faith and speaking the Word of God over and over until it is realized.

The problem with both of these views is that they have just enough truth to be dangerous. Now is not the time to expound upon this, but let me initiate a challenge to anyone who wants to debate the subject of divine healing. First of all, read every passage in Scripture regarding healing, disease, sickness, doctors, or any other related topic. Some of this valuable material is included in the Appendix. The material I have provided for you is, no doubt, missing some passages, though I have sought to be extensive in my research. The reason I say it is missing some passages is that the more I poured into the study of the subject, the more I found. Even after writing most of the book, I was made aware that the Hebrew word shalom holds in its definition divine health, welfare, and prosperity. The word saved¹ in the New Testament is sozo in the Greek, and it means “wholeness,” “healing,” and so much more than we tend to mean when we use the word. In order to be absolutely thorough, I would have to examine every use of every one of these words and many more, which I have not done here.

I trust as you read the pages of this book you will be as amazed as I was at how much God has revealed Himself to be Jehovah Rapha, the God who heals. Writing this book has helped me to know my Father better. I have a deeper grasp of the depth of His love and care for me. May you, too, gain a deeper grasp of His love for you as you read.

I have a totally new perspective on sin and God’s loving grace. God hates sin because sin destroys us. He wants us to obey Him because He loves us and hates to watch us experience the consequences that sin brings with it.

My heart is deeply grieved by the conversations I have with students and professors of supposedly mainline theology. Somehow the entire subject of healing for many Christians is relegated to Charismatic theology. The first two points they want to address are almost invariably tongues and/or apostolic succession. If these terms are unfamiliar and their relevance to the subject makes you wonder, don’t worry; these issues won’t be discussed here. (I would consider myself a student of theology, and I end up scratching my head at the relevance of these topics to healing as well.) What amazes me is how easily we can be sidetracked from walking in and experiencing the abundant Christian life as Jesus intended and taught. I’m

reminded of the various religious groups from Jesus’ day who were tripping over truths while Truth Himself walked in their very midst undetected because He didn’t fit within their nice little theological framework. I urge you, please, to set aside any preconceived ideas you have about this subject and take some time to prayerfully study this subject in light of God’s Word. See if there might be something of value through this examination.

Richard Mull, Lord Heal Me.

[jdgo51]

You Don’t Have to Struggle in Secret

Today's inspiration comes from:

God Knows

by Lisa Whittle

Editor’s note: Our friend, Lisa Whittle, has written a wonderful new book about the comforting omniscience of God. He knows everything about you, who you are, what you’ve gone through, and every single concern. Enjoy this excerpt:

"'Secret struggles aren’t always what we think. They aren’t necessarily an addiction or terrible money problems or being hooked on porn.

Sometimes it is chronic perfectionism that has become debilitating. Control that has wrecked our relationships. Worry that is keeping us from living.

Or perhaps, the weight of caring for someone else – or keeping their secret -- whose struggle has now become yours.

My mother had a secret struggle that for years, she never told anyone. It wasn’t sinful. It wasn’t even really about her.

She used to go to the pharmacy every day and buy 2 pills my elderly, ailing father needed to stay alive, simply because they couldn’t afford to buy his expensive heart prescriptions all at one time. It was a quiet, daily battle. Only God knew about her lonely daily routine.

Meanwhile, she would go about with her “usual life,” as an art teacher. She would welcome art students into her home (with a smile on her face) to make ends meet… while caring for her disabled husband. Things were busy, but she would be sure to never miss her pharmacy visit, every morning like clockwork.

Though our secret struggles may not stem from us, when they effect people we love, they become our burden, too. We want to help them. We want to keep their issue quiet. We don’t want to expose their pain. All the while, we are compromising our own souls by allowing a secret to nag at us, every day.

We may feel alone, as if there is not another person on the planet who knows what we are going through. But we know from Psalm 44:21 that

[God] knows the secrets of every heart.

There is always One who knows. It may feel scary to think God knows about something we have tried hard to keep hidden. But His lovingkindness is what assures us that in that unique intimate knowledge of all things past, present and future (God’s omniscience), there exists an eternal intention to rescue, comfort and relieve us as we lay bare before Him. God knows everything about all He created and loves so much. That, my friend, includes you.

There is always One who knows.

If you find yourself with a secret struggle – either one of your own or one that has become yours due to someone close to you, know that God doesn’t want you to live limited in this way. Instead, there are some important things you can do:

Learn the difference between privacy and secrecy. We are all entitled to keeping aspects of our life private. But things can become dangerous “secrets” when we try to handle them without letting anyone else in to help us or share with them the issues we face.

Stop assuming it’s just you. One of the ways Satan keeps us discouraged and isolated is by making us believe we are the only one who has a secret struggle. But it’s not true. “Don’t assume because you perceive perfection there is not hidden pain. Many people have smiled through struggle and laughed through loss. We are all creatively coping in some way.” - God Knows

Address the shame cycle. Ask yourself these questions to see if shame from living with secrecy has affected you: 1. Do I avoid people to ensure I won’t have an uncomfortable (or probing) conversation? 2. Do I feel distant from God? 3. Do I feel negatively toward myself for something I am doing that other people don’t know about? (Remember: Just because something is packaged prettier doesn’t mean it’s not a secret struggle that’s keeping you in a negative train of thought.)

Accept help. We often want to push people away because we feel like our struggles will burden them. As I write in God Knows, “Sometimes it’s hard to let people love you when you think you’re loving them harder by refusing their help. But this isn’t a love contest.”

The truth is, everyone has something only God knows about.

Someone reading is struggling in secret. To make ends meet. With a worried heart. Carrying someone else’s issue that has now become yours. Things are barren and feel desperate. Maybe that someone is you.

I want you to know that God will not leave you, He knows the depth of your burden and overwhelm, and you can trust Him to have more for you."'

Written for Devotionals Daily by Lisa Whittle, author of God Knows.

[calacuspr]

Calacus Weekly Hit & Miss – Sir Mo Farah The International Boxing Association (IBA)

Every week we look at the best and worst communicators in the sports world from the previous week.

HIT - Sir Mo Farah

Sport is a much needed escape from the pressures of modern life for billions of people. In many cases, it has saved lives and this will always be the case.

Increasingly, we are hearing stories of how elite sportsmen and women have been saved by their sport, and the lack of opportunities they would have had in life if it wasn’t for their talent.

The current influx of elite British track athletes is down to, in no small part, the inspiring athletes from the London 2012 Olympics, who achieved their goal of inspiring the next generation.

One of these athletes who has been a source of inspiration is Sir Mo Farah. To many, Farah is the greatest British athlete of his generation. His illustrious career includes achieving an unprecedented “quadruple double”, winning two Olympic golds and two World Championship gold medals twice over.

But Sir Mo was living with a secret he had been to afraid to go public with.

Now was the right time for Farah to tell his story of how he was trafficked to the UK, revealing a deeply traumatic wound to the masses.

In the clips released in the build up to the highly anticipated BBC documentary, The Real Mo Farah, he poignantly said: “Most people know me as Mo Farah, but it’s not my name nor the reality.

“The real story is, I was born in Somaliland, north of Somalia. As Hussein Abdi Kahin. Despite what I said in the past, my parents have never lived in the UK.

“For years I just kept blocking it out, but you can only block it out for so long.

“When I was four my Dad was killed in the Civil War. You know, as a family we were torn apart. I was separated from my Mother and I was brought into the UK illegally under the name of another child called Mohamed Farah.

“Here is the visa document that I came to the UK with. I was nine and that is my photo but not my name. From that moment, coming in with a different name, different identity. I know I’ve taken someone else’s place and I do wonder what Mohamed is doing now?”

Sir Mo pointed out that he was about eight or nine years old when he was taken from home to stay with family in Djibouti. He was then flown over to the UK by a woman he had never met and wasn't related to.

She told him he was being taken to Europe to live with relatives there. Farah claims she had fake travel documents with her that showed his photo next to the name "Mohamed Farah".

When they arrived in the UK, the woman took him to her flat in Hounslow, west London, and took a piece of paper off him that had his relatives' contact details on.

"Right in front of me, she ripped it up and put it in the bin. At that moment, I knew I was in trouble, often I would just lock myself in the bathroom and cry.”

Sir Mo says he had to do housework and childcare "if I wanted food in my mouth". He says the woman told him: "If you ever want to see your family again, don't say anything."

For the first few years the family didn't allow him to go to school, but when he was about 12 he enrolled in Year 7 at Feltham Community College.

Staff were told Sir Mo was a refugee from Somalia.

But out of adversity comes opportunity, Sir Mo's PE teacher, Alan Watkinson, noticed a transformation in the young boy when he hit the athletics track.

He eventually confided in Mr Watkinson about his true identity, his background, and the family he was being forced to work for.

The PE teacher contacted social services and helped Sir Mo to be fostered by another Somali family.

"I still missed my real family, but from that moment everything got better. I felt like a lot of stuff was lifted off my shoulders, and I felt like me. That's when Mo came out - the real Mo."

Sir Mo began making a name for himself as an athlete and aged 14 he was invited to compete for English schools at a race in Latvia - but he didn't have any travel documents.

Mr Watkinson helped him apply for British citizenship under the name Mohamed Farah, which was granted in July 2000.

The rest is history, Farah went on to be one of the most successful British athletes of all time, accumulating 10 global titles over 5,000m and 10,000m. In a home Olympics at London 2012, he won Britain’s first ever 10,000M gold medal to cap off ‘Super Saturday’.

The bravery shown by Sir Mo to share his story is inspirational. It signals to every refugee worldwide that no matter their situation, you can be great and achieve anything you put your mind to.

The reaction to the news and the documentary was wholly positive, which should have been a prerequisite. London Mayor Sadiq Khan tweeted his support: “Everything Sir Mo has survived proves he’s not only one of our greatest Olympians but a truly great Briton.

“Mo Farah thank you for sharing your story & shining a spotlight on these awful crimes. We must build a future where these tragic events are never repeated.”

Conservative Chancellor Nadhim Zahawi also came out in support, who said: “Heartbroken, painful. I was very lucky that I had my parents with me when we fled Iraq. “It was difficult, no doubt, I was 11 years old, I didn’t understand why we were fleeing Saddam Hussein, I knew he was a dictator, I knew he was bad.

“All I can say is I salute Mo Farah. What an amazing human being to go through that trauma in childhood, and to come through it and be such a great role model is truly inspirational – and exemplary.”

In an interview on BBC’s Radio 4 Today, fellow Olympian Brendan Foster said: “I thought I knew the Mo Farah story, and I thought I knew Mo Farah really well.

“I’ve known him for more than 20 years, since he was a young kid. First time I ever met him, I was commentating for the BBC and he was running the junior cross-country world championships.

“He knocked on the commentator’s door, and I opened the door and he said: ‘Don’t you want to interview me?’, and I said: ‘Well, you only finished 17th, and we don’t normally interview the guy who’s finished 17th.

“I said: ‘Look Mo, when you win something, we’ll come back and interview you’, and obviously, he went on to win many things. But he was still the cheeky chap. He was still the guy who liked to laugh and have fun.

“He hasn’t lied to anybody, but imagine having to bury that and live with that story. My admiration for Mo has gone up.”

A whole host of UK charities also came out in full support for the most successful British track athlete in modern Olympic Games history. Enver Solomon, CEO of the Refugee Council, said: “We salute Sir Mo for his bravery in speaking out about his story. Like so many others he has faced unimaginable pain and by telling his story he is shining a light on global problems which require urgent and meaningful action.

“His candid account of the circumstances which brought him to the UK show the world that behind every statistic there is a human story which needs to be heard.

“It is a story which sends a powerful message that rather than unworkable schemes which treat people as human cargo there is a desperate need for safe, humane and effective routes for people seeking asylum. There are thousands of children who like Sir Mo have had their lives torn apart by war and persecution, many of whom are then cruelly exploited by traffickers.

“We should respond with sympathy and not further cruelty – criminalising the victim is never the answer. Sir Mo has made an enormous contribution to UK life, just like thousands of others who arrive on our shores and build new lives and new connections in this country.”

In the documentary, barrister Allan Briddock tells Sir Mo his nationality was technically "obtained by fraud or misrepresentations".

Legally, the government can remove a person's British nationality if their citizenship was obtained through fraud.

However, thanks to the positive reaction to the story and the fact that this incident is not Farah’s fault, the Home Office swiftly clarified their position with a statement which said: “No action whatsoever will be taken against Sir Mo and to suggest otherwise is wrong.

"A child is not complicit in gaining citizenship by deception. If a person was a child at the time of fraud, false representation or concealment of material fact was perpetrated that led to citizenship, the case will conclude that they were not complicit in any deception by their parent or guardians."

Reacting to this statement in an interview with BBC Radio 4's Today programme, Sir Mo said: “It makes me relieved. This is my country. If it wasn't for [my PE teacher] Alan and the people who supported me throughout my childhood then maybe I wouldn't even have the courage to do this.

"There's a lot of people that I owe my life to - particularly my wife, who has been very supportive throughout my career, and who gave me the strength to come and talk about it, telling me it's okay to do this.

"It was always my story. I wasn't even comfortable enough to talk about it with my family. I couldn't talk about it publicly. It has taken me a long time to come to this, but I'm glad I've made this documentary to show people the reality of what really happened to me as a child.

“I'm just happy to share what I've gone through and [has] made me the man I am today.

"I had no idea there was so many people who are going through exactly the same thing that I did. It just shows how lucky I was. What really saved me, what made me different, was that I could run."

Sir Mo told the documentary that he wanted to tell his story to challenge public perceptions of trafficking and slavery.

In the wake of the revelations, the couple who trafficked Sir Mo to the UK are facing a potential police investigation after Scotland Yard confirmed it is “assessing” the allegations made by the four-time Olympic champion.

A spokesman for the force said: “We are aware of reports in the media concerning Sir Mo Farah. No reports have been made to the MPS at this time.

“Specialist officers are currently assessing the available information.

“We believe there are victims of modern slavery, including children in every borough across London and the public may encounter them every day, possibly without realising. As well as being sexually exploited, victims have been found working in construction, domestic servitude, agriculture, cannabis factories and in places you use yourself, such as car washes, barbers and nail bars.”

The husband and wife accused of using Sir Mo as a domestic servant have separated but are still thought to be living in the UK.

Hope For Justice have been a longstanding non-profit organisation to raise awareness to spot the signs of modern day slavery and human trafficking. Hopefully with Farah’s story, more can turn to resources like these to spot the signs and help in the fight to stop human trafficking.

Hope for Justice, Tim Nelson, spoke to BBC News about the shocking revelations. He said: “I think this documentary raises the awareness and understanding of human trafficking. I would love to speak to Sir Mo to say how brave and courageous he is to have stepped out in this moment in time to explain what has happened to him and what is also happening to so many other victims across the globe.

“Just under one million children are reported to have been trafficked for domestic servitude across the world. The sad reality of what happens with human trafficking and modern day slavery is that these victims are taken and hidden from plain sight.

“In 2021 alone, there were 5,468 children that were identified as potential victims of modern day slavery in the UK. Of that total 275 were children that were identified primarily by police forces who were victims of domestic servitude in circumstances identical to that of Sir Mo.

“It’s absolutely ground-breaking for someone at the level and standard of Mo Farah internationally which such profile to come forward, and share his story. We know the power that these stories have to change lives.”

However, some have concerns over inconsistences in Sir Mo’s recollections, that do not tally with his own previous comments or autobiography.

But Farah has shined a light on how refugees are treated, in stark contrast to how many British politicians and sections of society have been dismissive at the prospect of helping and caring for refugees.

Indeed, in November last year Amnesty International concluded that the UK Government's failed to open safe and legal routes for refugees to travel in. This was, they determined, a critical factor in the tragic deaths of refugees attempting to cross the Channel to the UK.

The Government took no notice of the criticism, and a mere few months ago announced a proposal whereby individuals identified by the United Kingdom as being illegal immigrants or asylum seekers, would be relocated to Rwanda. They would be transported there for processing, asylum and resettlement, coupled with the hope that this would deter refugees from making the journey across the channel. A lack of compassion to refugees has become a staple of tory rule.

There should be nothing but huge respect to Sir Mo for sharing this incredibly personal story and to everyone who helped bring it forward. It’s so unusual to see our hierarchies flipped in this way but hopefully Farah’s story will speak for other victims who would otherwise be voiceless.

If anything can humanise what trafficking means for those involved, this story will. It has made even the Daily Mail report on immigration with compassion, something you rarely see.

Sir Mo is just one example of the many victims but with any luck, this story will open people's eyes to what is happening across the world. Hopefully it will also stop this being about the numbers. It has been so good to see such a positive reaction but this should not be the exception, this should be for all.

MISS – International Boxing Association

Sport, at its very essence, is about respect and fair play.

Adhering to the rules and winning fairly is fundamental.

Boxing, one of the core sports at the Olympic Games, has been mired in controversy for years, with in-fighting and accusations of corruption throwing the sport into crisis.

The International Olympic Committee (IOC) has stripped the International Boxing Association (IBA) of its rights to organise boxing events at the Paris 2024 Olympic Games, the second Games where it will run the  due to ongoing concerns over governance issues within the organisation.

A recent report by sports investigator Richard McLaren said “corruption abounded” when he concluded his report into IBA’s governance.

McLaren highlighted a litany of financial and bout integrity issues including “unjustifiable” judging scores and warnings by referees to boxers, plus secret signalling between officials in arenas.

“The people in the sport must change,” McLaren said. “They have ingrained learned behaviours in a culture that has historically not respected ethics or integrity.

“Corruption abounded. The trickle-down effect was that officials at all levels of the sport felt they could bend the rules with impunity.”

But boxing remains in crisis.

During elections to decide the IBA President held in Istanbul this year, a number of candidates were barred from standing over a minor breach of the rules.

Dutchman Boris van der Vorst Van, Mike McAtee, Steve Hartley and Per-Axel Sjöholm all appealed successfully to the Court of Arbitration for Sport (CAS) which “would have deserved a light sanction such as a warning or even no sanction, but not an exclusion from the election," the court said in a statement.

Umar Kremlev, who was re-elected as President during the vote, was also deemed by CAS to have broken the same rules, but not excluded from standing.

The inability to stage fair and transparent elections has hardly served IBA’s cause and further underlined the concerns and to his credit, Kremlev agreed that a new election should be held.

He said: “I am grateful for the confidence shown in me by the Member Federations of IBA both at the elections of 2020 and again this year. If CAS has stated that my opponent should have been eligible to stand for election, then let us have a new election.

“In boxing, we should never be afraid of competition. I have seen for myself, countless times, the way that boxing can change young lives for the better and I have experienced this myself.

“Boxing gave me much as a youth. It greatly improved my future. Now I am at a point where I can give back to boxing and greatly improve our sport’s future and I am proud to do so.”

Yet even re-running the election has proved to be problematic.

Robert Reher, head of the Slovenian Boxing Association, criticised van der Vorst over proposals to stage the elections in Lausanne, where visa requirements are more stringent and may prohibit some delegates from attending.

Reher said: ”I believe that our favourite sport, the sport we live for, should not be mixed up with politics, but that is exactly what is happening now, as the Extraordinary Congress was initiated in Switzerland, which is not far from the home country of the already mentioned Presidential candidate (van der Vorst Van).”

The candidates responded with a letter which underlined the importance of reassuring the IOC that the new elections and governance is watertight.

The letter stated: “You are right, there are many countries with more lenient visa policies than Switzerland.

"We understand that many would have to go through considerable difficulties in acquiring a Schengen visa. Nevertheless, with 80 days remaining, there is sufficient time to apply and receive visas provided that the necessary decisions are timely made by the IBA.

"Switzerland hosted AIBA Congresses on numerous occasions in the past, including an Extraordinary Congress in 2016.

"There are clear opportunities to optimize the organizational budget when Congress is set close to its Head Office, aside from the obvious advantages in operational control effectiveness.

“Above all, we kindly ask you to consider the fact that the Olympic future of our sport is on the line, as well as the Olympic dreams of boxers around the world.

"If we are serious about keeping boxing Olympic, we need to be close and open to the IOC as well as other major sports stakeholders.

"This means that the upcoming Congress should be held right in front of their eyes, in a country that is ranked among the world top 10 democracies with lowest corruption levels."

Needless to say, IBA chose to ignore the request and announced that it was staging the Extraordinary Congress in Yerevan in Armenia.

Kremlev said: “After careful study of proposals from different countries [the Board of Directors] choose Armenia has as a host for the upcoming Congress.

“Armenia showed their great organisational skills during EUBC (European Boxing Confederation) Elite Men’s Championships in May this year.  Government support, accessibility and simplified visa process helped the country to win."

The fact that Armenia is Russia’s only ally in the South Caucasus while the war against Ukraine is ongoing does not suggest that IBA fully understand the implications and potential consequences of choosing Yerevan.

The simplicity of securing a visa seems to have over-ridden safety and political concerns and the lack of major airlines who now fly to Armenia because of their alliance with Russia.

The fact that IBA promised that the Extraordinary Congress will be live streamed to allow online participation for those who are unable to attend in person leaves the entire process open to further scrutiny, mismanagement and possible manipulation which could end their connection with the Olympic Movement for good.

[hops-hunny]

Stories That Are Told

Pairing: Tarrant “Hatter” Hightopp x Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: (Y/n)’s so used to being the background character in everyone’s story that she forget she can be the main character in her own.

Warnings: Slight angst but majority fluff!

A/N: I love this man with my whole being omg pls

Stumbling into Wonderland with Alice had been a wonderful thing for not only Alice, but (Y/n) as well. For Alice it was an escape from all the things she didn’t wanna do and would never wanna do. She wasn’t forced to marry some sod of a guy who’d make her miserable for the rest of her life or to be the proper lady she was expected to be, but instead she got a taste of freedom. And although it was an escape for (Y/n) as well, it was an escape of a different kind.

In the other world, with it’s dreary skies and monotonous patterns and cycles, (Y/n) lived a very humdrum life. Her family had never been as fortunate as Alice in any ways of the sorts, it was a miracle that they were friends to begin with. Alice’s father had been friends with (Y/n)’s since boyhood and because of that, he always made sure they knew they were welcome to anything of his that they wished. And while (Y/n)’s father had never taken advantage of that from the way Alice’s mother treated (Y/n) and her family, it wouldn’t be hard to think otherwise.

When Charles was still around, she hadn’t done anything out of line. The older woman always kept to herself, occasionally having an afternoon cup of tea with her own mom. However, her true colors and feelings came to light after the passing of her husband. During the next few months after her husband’s absence, the (L/n)s were there for Kingsleighs. Although they didn’t have the funds to help them monetarily (for they also didn’t need it), they offered their labor and services to the two as much as they needed. Farm work, house cleaning, garden maintenance. Anything you could think they had done. But as soon as Helen was well (as well as you could be after losing someone so dear) , she had forbid them from coming to their property. She didn’t believe her and Alice should associate with people of “such low stature” because it didn’t “align with their image”. But that had never stopped Alice.

Anywhere Alice went, (Y/n) was always there by her side right along with her. They practically went everywhere together and that hadn’t changed since they arrived in Wonderland. (Y/n) was grateful that she had chased after her friend. It was like she knew something would happen. Afterall, crazy things always happen when you put two curious girls together for more than a moment. The friends they had made since they arrived were nothing short of lovely. She knew her sister would describe them as odd characters and disturbing individuals. Telling her to stay far away from them and to not associate herself with those types. But what was wrong with being odd or even disturbing? The only things worth doing in life were a bit odd and disturbing and if that made her peculiar than so be it. 

For the first time in her life, she felt as though she belonged. Sure, it wasn’t her story nor her destiny to be here as it was Alice but that did not mean she did not appreciate Wonderland for what it was. The story had never been her story, not here, and certainly not where they were from. Alice was the main chat and she was the topic that would get trickled in after. 

“Everyone has a part to play, (Y/n). Even if it is not large or as set in stone, each person’s role is necessary for the story to progress, even yours. You’ll see.” the words of that tricky caterpillar replayed in her head over and over again whenever she had a moment to think. What had he meant by that? Was her story not more than to be here in support of her dearest friend and the latest edition to their friends? Was she not just a tool in the scheme of things? (Y/n) had never known people of lesser importance as herself to contribute much of anything big to a legacy as large as Alice’s! 

From her end of the table, she watched as Hatter threw his hat high into the air before it landed on his head causing everyone to erupt in a jostled mess of laughter and cheering. She smiled fondly from a far. Tarrant was a kind man. No matter what was going on or where they were, he always had a way of making her feel included. That’s just who he was. He had known what it was like to feel excluded from things and the last thing he’d wanna do is be the cause of that for someone else. But it was nothing more than his nature, that’s it.

“You know, you should just tell him how you feel.” a velvety voice sounded from beside her ear causing her to jump. The (h/c) haired girl glared at the purple cat, reaching a hand to swat him away but he disappeared once more before appearing on her other side. “He watches you often, even when there is not many around to see. But I always do of course.” The Cheshire cat said in a sure tell tone. The girl scoffed at him, shoving another small pastry into her mouth.

“I’m not in the mood for one of your jokes today, cat. So if you’ve come to mock my feelings during my 2nd to last day in Wonderland, I wish you well and send you off.” she huffed out, crossing her arms across her chest, turning her gaze away from him back to Tarrant who was already looking at her. The Hatter gave her a secret wink and a smile before turning back to the March Hare who seemed rather frazzled about something. Or perhaps excited. But once again, the grinning cat appeared in front of her face once more.

“Silly girl, you ignore the plain truth in front of you? I can see why you and Alice get along so well, both of you can be quite foolish. Oh well, the story isn’t over yet after all.” and with that he was gone. What did he mean by that? The story was clearly over. Alice had done what she set out to do. The Jabberwocky had been slain, the White Queen ruled once again, and all had been made well. And what was with everyone with stories? Not everything you can do will always be a story and not every story comes to an end. She decided not to dwell much on it. This was her last night she’d ever spend in Wonderland and she’d rather like to keep it in good memory.

So when the White Queen offered her a hand to dance she took it, their dresses swaying in the wind in oppositional unison. They all danced with one another, twirling, laughing, and having a grand time. The entire time the smile never once left (Y/n)’s face which a certain hatted man enjoyed with all his being.

--------------------------------------------

“I can’t believe you’re leaving today. It seems as if it was only yesterday when you arrived.” the girl swiveled around to see the red head there, a bittersweet smile on his face. His smile grew once she turned to face him. Removing his hat, he bowed as he grabbed one of her hands placing a delicate kiss to the top of it. “I am delighted to have known a woman as graceful as you.” hot tears sprung into her eyes which she quickly got rid of before he stood up. Giggling some she hopped onto the large sit swing, motioning for him to join her.

“Don’t get sad yet, Hatter. I’ve still got a few hours left. You can’t rid of me that easily.” he joined her on the swing, a wide grin still on his face. Although it was partly real, she could tell there was some sadness lingering behind it. (Y/n) turned her gaze to the sight in front of them. From the large benched swing, you could see just about all of wonderland over the edge of the cliff. “Besides, there’s not much to miss. I’m just me.”

“And ‘just you’ is a lot! I’ll miss everything about you. The way you mimic the bird calls you hear, the way you get excited when the rock you skipped across the water goes further than you imagined,” she looked at him in shock as he continued to speak, “E-even the smaller things like how you leave the crust of your sandwich for last and give your crumbs to the ants. But I think more importantly I’ll...I’ll just miss your presence.” he said the last part softly, staring off the edge of the cliff to avoid her gaze. A million thoughts raced through her heads as he spoke. Could it really be? Could he really share the same feelings as she did? (Y/n) reached a shaky (s/c) hand to lay on top of Hatter’s pale one, intertwining their fingers.

“Hatter, I've got something to tell you. During my time here in Wonderland, I’ve enjoyed every second I’ve had with everyone. But more importantly, I’ve enjoyed my time so much with you and I believe it’s only fair to share with you that my feelings I have for you go beyond those of normal friendship. I guess you can say I’ve grown...quite mad for you.” his head whipped to face her as he stared into her eyes, tears welling within his own. He flashed her another smile except this one was genuine, filled with the love and warmth he had shown her the entirety of her time in Wonderland.

“(Y/n)! Alice sent me to fetch you. I’m afraid it’s time for the two of you to head back.”

-----------------------------

After a lot of shedded tears, heartfelt speeches, and goodbyes that were nothing short of wholesome, it was time for the two to head home. Alice patted (Y/n)’s shoulder before holding her arm out for her to grab. As they neared the portal, (Y/n) turned around once more to stare at her friends but when she got to Tarrant, her heart began to break. The gaze they held with one another was long until she simply couldn’t take it. Without thinking she ran up to him once more, grabbing his shoulders tightly.

“Hatter, Tarrant, I need to know how you feel. I couldn’t live with myself if I left and never knew.” he shook his head, looking away from her as he tried to stop the waterworks that were withheld behind the dam. Hot tears streamed down the delicate skin of the girl’s face. “Hatter...please.” her voice was broken as she begged.

“I believe I wasn’t honest myself either. I am completely enamored by you, my dear. I wish I had said something sooner but even though I couldn’t, I’ll always hold a special place for you in here.” he said, placing a hand over his heart. Standing on the tips of her toes, she leaned forward placing a quick peck to his cheek.

“What if it isn’t too late? What if I stayed?” she started, watching as he shook his head, “Hatter listen! You may think I’d regret if I stay but I think I would regret even more not following my heart the first time it’s ever tried to tell me something. Nothing would make me happier than staying here with you...that is if you’d allow it.” a silence fell over as everyone awaited his answer. Without another thought Hatter leaned down, pressing his lips to hers. The kiss was soft and sweet. Filled with a silent promise, a silent vow to care for her as deeply as his heart will allow. 

“I do not know what I did to get so lucky, but I would do it again if needed.” she felt herself grow flustered at his words. A quick peck was placed on his lips before walking over to Alice once again. The blonde had tears of her own in her eyes. She was glad her friend had found something to fight for, something to call her own. But also for the first time in many years, they would not see each other everyday as they once did. They both stared at each other before throwing themselves into each other's arms, laughing in unison as bittersweet tears fell.

“Good luck. Make sure you put your foot down. You’re Alice! You listen to no one and march to no one’s drum but your own.” Alice gave her a curt nod.

“Take care. We’ll meet again, do not doubt it.” 

Although Alice’s story had seemingly come to an end, it seemed as though (Y/n)’s story was just beginning. For once she wasn’t the side character in someone’s tale, but the main character in her own.

TAGSLIST: @de4ds0up @pink-hufflepuff​ @redpanda-poetry​

[thefanficmonster]

Love For The Faceless

Corpse Husband x Youtuber!Reader(Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff 

Summary: Y/N is a YouTube gamer who has recently gained a much larger following thanks to the streams she does with her friends. Naturally, considering her faceless and bodiless nature, people are starting to get curious about her. When she finally follows her friend Corpse’s example, a lot more than her hands is revealed.

Requested by anon, you know who you are 😉 Thank you so much for placing a request and hope this fic fulfills the expectations you have for it.

“Hey!“ I greet the lobby as I finally hop into the Discord call after quickly saying ‘hi‘ to my audience.

I’ve been a YouTuber for four years now and I’ve only recently started streaming, encouraged to do so by my best friend Rae. She’s the one who got me in multiplayer games such as Among Us and Phasmophobia which led me to meet her amazing gaming squad that consists of some of the most famous names on the platform. They are all wonderful people and I will forever be in Rae’s debt for introducing me to them. However, becoming friends with Felix, Sean and the rest of the team brought not only a more fulfilled life, but also a small boost in following. Who am I kidding, it wasn’t small. It was overwhelming, terrifying even.

My YouTube channel had a little over a million subscribers at the start of quarantine and now....now it’s closer to three million. Speaking of three million, I’m about to reach it any day now and it’s really hard to believe. I’m a gaming youtuber and I’ve never considered changing my genre despite expecting to not get any attention whatsoever, with all the big names on the platform. I was convinced not even as many as a hundred people would stumble across my videos and now here we are.

My OG subscribers are very supportive of my sudden growth and are defending me when my newer fans ask for a face reveal or whatnot. While we’re on that topic I might have to mention that not even my YouTube friends, and that includes Rae have seen my face. I’ve been faceless and bodiless for the entirety of my time on social media. Some claim I do it to grab more attention or for dramatic effect, but the reason is beyond that. I’m not shallow. Actually, shallow people are the reason I don’t show my face. I’ve never been the prettiest, but my middle school bully thought that I wasn’t lacking self confidence enough. As a result, I ended up with a not so handsome scar on my right cheek that starts from the corner of my mouth and nearly misses my eye. Yeah, it’s a long and pretty noticeable scar that has thankfully become less and less obvious as the years have progressed. Still, it’s not something I’d like to show to my viewers.

Eight ‘hi’s greet me back, each making my smile grow wider. “Sorry I’m late guys. Technical difficulties.” 

“Don’t worry.“ Rae’s voice dominates over the rest, “Corpse still isn’t here so we’re waiting for him.“

I mute myself on the Discord call and take a look at my comments. I’m most flattered by the comments about my voice. Seeing as how they don’t have much to compliment about me other than my content, they make the nicest comments about my voice, personality and humor. Those comments are the ones who warm my heart most. Even when people in my day to day life compliment my appearance I can’t find it in me to believe they are being genuine. I’d like to believe these amazing people are being one hundred percent honest when they tell me they like me for who I am and not for what I might look like.

“Sorry I’m late guys.“ A deep voice causes me to even physically jolt, switching my focus from the comments to the Among Us lobby where my eyes land on the newly materialized black avatar.

“Hi Corpse.“ Rae greets him.

“Hello mister who broke Twitter!“ Sean laughs, provoking the laughter of the rest of the players.

“Yeah, congratulations man. That’s a big deal.“ Felix chimes in.

“Thanks guys, but I think you’re forgetting we’re talking about a picture of my hand.“ Corpse chuckles timidly. I have noticed how shy he gets when someone gives him a compliment - like a snail slowly withdrawing in its shell. I find it adorable.

“That’s what makes it even better!“ I unmute my mic, sending my own congratulations.

“While we’re on that topic...“ Rae begins, waiting for the rest of us to shut our traps, suggesting she has something important to say. “Y/N, do you ever plan on doing a reveal like that? Not a face reveal. Just a body part reveal.“

I have no problem talking about the subject with friends but I get nervous when I’m supposed to discuss it with my fans. Seeing as how everyone, including myself, is streaming right now, I get a bit of a stutter in my speech. “Haven’t thought about it yet. But I guess a body part reveal is harmless.” I cringe immediately after letting the words leave my mouth, “That sounds so weird.”

Rae knows that I’m not too fond of my face, but I haven’t told her about my scar yet. I let almost all people I’ve met online think I’m using my lack of appearance for effect. For the mystery of it all. Mysteries attract people which equals attention. Attention equals views and the domino effect continues.

“Just a suggestion. No pressure.“ Rae adds quickly, knowing full well I get anxious when the subject is brought up in front of cameras. “Let’s get this game started, shall we.”

                                                          * * *

The idea dwells in my mind, sitting on the back burner even after I disconnect from the Discord call. I’m sitting in my gaming chair, which was a gift for my two million milestone, and weighing out the pros and cons of the action Rae suggested I take.

“It’s a picture of your fucking hand, dummy. How bad can it turn out?“ I say out loud, shaking my head at my indecisiveness. “You’ll be fine.”

In a blur, two pictures are already posted on my Instagram. The first one captioned ‘Took a leaf from my friend’s book. Did I do it right @ corpsehusband?’ and the second ‘Thanks, Rae. These are on you.’

Rae’s POV

As I’m watching a movie in my living room, I get a notification from Instagram, informing me that Y/N has posted for the first time in a while.

I scoff, “More like the first time in forever.”

The first thing that comes to my mind is the possibility of her reaching that three million milestone that’s been long time coming. I bring the glass of water that’s sitting on my coffee table to my lips, taking a sip as I tap the notification. The picture I see makes me hurry to put the glass back down so I don’t drop it. Y/N’s hand. Her fingers are covered with several thin rings each. And here I thought Corpse had too many rings, this girl has at least two on every finger! 

Then my eyes land on the second picture she has posted only minutes after the first and my heart drops. I struggle to get the water that’s been sitting in my moth down my esophagus while my mind is struggling with the task to comprehend the picture I’m looking at. 

Another hand is resting on top of Y/N’s. A hand also covered in rings but fewer and larger. The nails are painted black. 

I think I know who it belongs to.

Before I can even finish the thought, I’m dialing Y/N. She picks up after the second ring, sound cheery as ever as she greets me. “Hey Rae!”

“Don’t you ‘Hey Rae’ me!” I practically scream. I hate being kept in the dark about anything ever so this is just driving me mad. On top of all, she’s my best friend, for fuck’s sake. “Is that Corpse in the photo with you?!”

“Ugh....“ the cheeriness to her voice is all but gone now.

I go on with my rant, not giving her the time to reply. Not that she would reply. I bet she doesn’t know what to say. “So he knows where you live?! Or was the picture taken at his place?! He knows what you look like?! You have seen him! He has seen you in real life but me, your best friend, haven’t!!! You are breaking Covid 19 protection laws to take pictures?! Are you fucking serious, Y/N?!”

There’s a long moment of silence which frustrates me even more but I literally have run out of things to yell and the power to be angry. I mean, I still am, I just can’t express it.

“Rae, sweetheart, please calm down. You’re scary when you’re mad.“ This girl has some fucking nerve! She’s on the verge of laughing!

“Listen here you...“ 

“Rae, please stop scaring my girlfriend.“ That oh so distinguishable, oh so familiar voice interrupts me.

I am flabbergasted, for a lack of a better term.

“Now that we’ve got you quiet, I can explain.“ Y/N pics up the conversation, “Corpse and I have been dating for six, almost seven months now. We started dating around Easter after talking for quite some time. We moved in together at the end of September. All thanks to you, Rae. You’re the best.” She pauses to breathe in real quick, “There, all caught up?“

I’m in no less shock than I was before she explained. Actually, I think I might be even more confused now. It all just feels like a fever dream. “Yes...no. I don’t fucking know! I need details, Y/N!”

“Details later.“ Corpse makes his presence known once again, “We’re watching Family Guy right now. Talk to you later.“

“Love you, Rae!“ Y/N calls out before the line goes dead.

My arm goes limp, dropping my phone on the couch next to me. 

“Motherfuckers” I mumble under my breath.

Y/N’s POV

It’s been a week since Rae has stopped talking to both Corpse and me. I know she just needs some time to cool off. In the meantime, the rest of our friends were informed and, as oppose to Rae, were nothing but supportive and overjoyed. I bet Rae feels the same way though. Sean, Dave and the rest of the gang have confirmed that she’s incredibly happy for us and says she noticed a spark between me and him since day one, but she can’t help but be mad at us, and especially me, for not telling her sooner.

“Any regrets?“ I remember Corpse asking me when we hung up on her after dropping the bomb.

“Not being able to see her face when she saw the picture.“ I beam at him, feeling as content as ever.

He laughs, agreeing with me before leaning down to kiss me.

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios