#questions and answers and unanswered questions

[spnspn]

Indians often feel compelled to apologize and step back, while many Pakistanis—whether actors or ordinary citizens—seem to defend their government's wrongdoings and even support a military with ties to terrorism. In Pakistan, the prime minister is revered almost like a god, whereas in India, every politician is scrutinized, and any injustice against minorities is met with strong outrage and global attention from bbc al Jazeera However, the plight of Hindus, who live in constant fear, is often overlooked. Questions linger: What will happen if Jammu separates from India? Will there be another genocide like that of the Kashmiri Pandits? Will the remaining Hindus ever return to their homeland? These concerns remain unanswered. When Osama bin Laden attacked America, the U.S. government searched every corner of Pakistan to eliminate the terrorist and avenge innocent lives lost. Yet, when India demands justice, it is labeled Islamophobic.

The irony is Pakistan who is concerned about Kashmiri muslims has been known for killing 30 muslims in cross border tensions. What's the fault of kashmiris here? Let them live in peace in their respective administered territories. It's upto to them.

Pakistanis are never questioned by Western colonisers. They see India as a threat (a growing economy). Indians are always questioned. If they are attacked and they use arms for retaliation they are still questioned. But pakistan who's known for attacking afghanistan Balochistan and india for many decades is NEVER QUESTIONED?

Why pakistanis are silent? Why are these questions never answered?

Summary

So whenever anything happens between India and Pakistan

What Pakistanis do instead of focusing on their country affairs-

First thing, they will fuel propaganda and use the plight of palestine as a shield to exempt themselves from questioning. If someone questions them, they will call them Islamophobic.

Since the pahalgam attack, I swear I have seen no tweets of any pakistani influencer or personality or my friends to express sorrow of what happened due to their LeT terrorists thriving as army officers in their country.

If the roles were reversed,

Some woke retard wannabe cools would have expressed "I am ashamed to be indian and an hindu gawk gawk gawk" there would be world wide hungama and generalisation of all Indians to be terrorists.

1947 pakistan attacked first

1965 pakistan attacked first

1971 pakistan attacked first

1999 pakistan attacked first

2001 terrorist attack by pakistan

2006 terrorist attack by pakistan

2008 11/26 terrorist attack by pakistan

2016 terrorist attack by pakistan

2019 terrorist attack by pakistan

2025 terrorist attack by pakistan

yet the cries for peace and humanity only echo when India retaliates.

the world weeps when terrorist camps are reduced to dust—but stayed silent when our people were turned to ashes. was our blood not red enough to stain headlines? did it not matter, just because it flowed quietly through classrooms and prayer halls in Poonch? where was the outrage when bombs fell on unaware children in response to us shelling their terrorists? when prayers were silenced mid-sentence in Gurudwara?

was peace not a global concern then?

was humanity not an international concern when our unarmed citizens were hunted down and killed right in front of their family—mercilessly shot in the name of religion—when all they wanted was to enjoy a vacation with their families in the hills of Pahalgam?

do only terrorists deserve mercy? not the child clutching his dead father’s shirt? not the mother who still sets a plate for the son who’ll never come home?

why does the world stay silent when we mourn, but raise its voice when we defend?

do the hands that carry weapons of hate deserve more compassion than the hands that held their daughter’s as they died?

[jjaehyunzs]

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ let him — j.jh

pairing: jaehyun x f!reader genre and content: toxic relationship, heartbreak, emotional manipulation, second chances that shouldn’t be taken. angst. mdni. wc: 2.5k

loving jaehyun felt like the safest thing in the world. he kissed you like he’d waited lifetimes. held your hand like it was the only thing keeping him steady. every message came with hearts, every touch with intention. you were always laughing. always close. you memorized every line around his eyes, every dimple, every sleepy sigh. you wore his hoodie more than your own. he’d text you good morning, baby before his eyes were even fully open. he told you things he’d never told anyone.

it was soft. golden. like sunlight through a window on a sunday morning. unwavering. like no matter what, he’d always choose you. love that didn’t ask questions. love that stayed. unconditional.

but somewhere along the way, the air got thinner.

a forgotten “good night,” a change in his tone. less smiles. shorter replies. more silences. you told yourself it was stress. that he still loved you, just quieter. but the silence grew louder. and when you reached for him, he started pulling away.

“you’re being too much,” he’d say. “i just need space.” “stop making a big deal out of nothing.”

and you tried. you tried so hard to not be “too much.”

but when he didn’t notice when you stopped smiling. didn’t ask why your voice always sounded like it was about to break. how you’d stare at your phone for hours, waiting for a message that used to come without asking. you started changing, too. overthinking every word. every pause. every sigh. you checked his phone. scrolled through his socials. reread conversations. you tested him. accused him. shut down before he could. you started keeping score. every unanswered text, every forgotten thing, every time he made you feel like needing him was wrong.

you hated who you were around him, but you couldn’t stop. you mirrored his coldness. matched his distance. you screamed when he was quiet, and ignored him when he tried to care. you both were hurting each other, over and over, like it was the only way you knew how to be close.

one night. he came home late. again.

you were already angry. already on edge. every word landed like a blade.

“where were you?”

“out.”

“that’s all you’re gonna say?”

“i’m not in the mood for this.”

you asked why he didn’t answer your messages. he rolled his eyes. you said you felt like he didn’t care. he scoffed.

“you always do this,” jaehyun muttered, tossing his jacket on a chair. “you always make me the bad guy.”

you blinked. “i’m just asking for a little effort.”

he laughed, low and bitter. “you mean control. you want to control everything. when i text, where i go, what i feel—”

“don’t you dare,” your voice dropped. “don’t turn this around on me.”

his voice rose. “i’m tired, okay? i’m fucking tired of walking into this house and feeling like i’m already doing something wrong.”

and suddenly, you snapped. “because you are!” your throat was raw. your chest felt like it might burst. “you shut down, you pull away, and then you make me feel crazy for noticing.”

the yelling started. messy, ugly. you called him a liar. he called you suffocating. he said he was exhausted. you told him he was killing you.

he turned away from you, dragging a hand through his hair. “jesus. i can’t breathe with you anymore.” he finally said, louder than he meant to.

you stood there. humiliated. burning. your heart dropped. “then leave,” you whispered. “if it’s so hard to love me, leave.” you didn’t mean it. not really. but part of you wanted to see if he would.

he looked at you, really looked at you, for the first time in weeks. then softer: “baby…”

you flinched at the pet name, he noticed.

“i didn’t mean that,” he said, gently now. “you know i didn’t mean that.” he stepped closer. slowly. carefully. his voice softened like the calm after a storm.

you didn’t move. your anger had collapsed into sadness. your arms were crossed, lips trembling. “you don’t look at me the same anymore.”

he stepped forward, cupped your face with both hands. eyes wide and wet, not crying, just guilty.

“i know. i’m sorry. i don’t want to fight like this. i’ve been stressed and i take it out on you. i’m sorry, baby.”

and you hated how easily those words melted your anger. how quickly you let your guard down when he spoke like that. like the old jaehyun. your jaehyun.

his forehead rested against yours.

“can we just… not tonight?” he whispered. “can we just be okay?”

you nodded. you always did.

you let him kiss you. because his lips still felt like home. you let him hold you. because love, even broken, is hard to turn away from. you let him whisper that he still loved you. and you believed him, even when it didn’t feel true anymore.

and you told yourself this time would be different. that he meant the apology. that love like this, loud, broken, messy, was still worth saving.

but it wasn’t.

days passed. then weeks. things didn’t get better. just heavier. colder. and deep down, you knew. you knew you were losing him. and you were losing yourself trying to hold on.

he had barely said a word all day.

you felt it before he even opened his mouth. the way he wouldn’t meet your eyes. the way he sat on the edge of the couch like the air was too heavy to breathe.

you stood by the kitchen sink, your fingers curled around a glass you hadn’t taken a sip from. your chest was tight. something inside you already knew.

he exhaled slowly. rubbed his hands together. cleared his throat like he was practicing the speech in his head.

“i think,” he began, “we both know this hasn’t been working for a while.”

your heart cracked right down the middle, but you didn’t let it show.

“so that’s it?” you asked, voice low. brittle.

he looked at you then. and it was the kind of look you never forget, the look someone gives you right before they stop being yours.

“i don’t want to keep hurting you,” he said. “i don’t want to keep pretending that i’m still in love when i’m not.”

you had imagined a thousand endings. maybe a final fight. maybe infidelity. maybe silence. but not this. not him sitting there and admitting out loud that he just… didn’t love you anymore.

you blinked fast, trying to keep it together. your hands were shaking.

“when did you stop?”

he looked away.

“was it when i started crying more than laughing?” you whispered. “was it when i stopped being easy to love?”

“don’t do this,” he said. “please.”

you laughed, bitter and broken. “why not? we’ve done everything else. why not ruin each other one last time?”

he stood. walked toward the door. for a moment, you thought he might turn back. might hold you one last time.

but he didn’t.

he just grabbed his keys. said, “take care of yourself.”

and left.

no last kiss. no apology. no closure. just the sound of the door closing behind him.

and you? you sank to the floor and let yourself break in all the ways you never did when he was still around. because that’s what grief is. not loud. not cinematic. just quiet. endless. a weight you learn to carry.

the days after were a blur. your bed felt too big. chest too tight. you stopped listening to music. stopped answering texts. you would reread your old conversations until the words turned cruel.

he didn’t check on you. didn’t ask if you were okay. and maybe that hurt the most. you hadn’t heard from him in 97 days. not that you were counting. (not that you weren’t.)

he became a ghost in your world. you stopped going to the places he liked. muted his name everywhere. you tried to erase him, but love doesn’t delete like that. you hated him. you missed him. you hated yourself for missing him.

and then, at 1:42 a.m., your phone lit up.

jaehyun: hey. can we talk?

you wanted to throw the phone across the room. wanted to say no. to tell him to go to hell. but your heart whispered what if.

you stared at the screen. yeah. you answered and sat in silence until the knock came.

you opened the door and there he was, he looked the same. same face. same tired eyes. same scent that lived in your sheets long after he didn’t. “you look…” he started, then paused. “different.”

you did. you weren’t the same desperate girl he left behind. but you weren’t quite whole, either.

he stepped inside like he still had a right to. sat on the couch like it remembered him. looked around like it was a museum of what used to be his life. “i’ve been thinking about you,” he said.

you didn’t answer.

“i don’t know what i’m doing,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “i just… i missed you.” he said it like a confession. like it cost him something to speak the words out loud. he moved closer. slow. cautious. like approaching something fragile. “you can tell me to leave,” he said, eyes locked on yours. “i’ll go.”

you didn’t. you should have. but you didn’t.

because yes, a part of you hated him. but the other part, the weaker, had been starving for this. for him.

he raised his hand and touched your cheek, gently, like he thought you might disappear. and when his fingers brushed your jaw, god, it was all it took. something inside you broke open, sharp, aching, hungry. he leaned in, and you let him.

the kiss started slow. unsure. but it didn’t stay that way. it turned desperate. like he was chasing something in your mouth that he couldn’t find. your breath caught in your throat. your fingers gripped the back of his shirt. his mouth was warm and familiar and wrong and right and everything you had both tried to forget.

you let him press you down onto the couch, his body covering yours, soon his hands were in your arms, on your waist. shaking just slightly as he touched you, pulling you into him like he was trying to remember all the parts he used to know by heart, but didn’t know if he was allowed to anymore.

and still, you let him.

his hands were under your shirt, pushing it up slowly, carefully, like he was afraid you’d change your mind. you let him. he’d peel your clothes off like nothing had happened. like he hadn’t left. like he hadn’t shattered you and vanished into silence.

your breath caught when his fingers brushed over your stomach. he waited, then moved lower. you didn’t say yes. you didn’t say no. you just pulled him closer. his lips trailed down your neck, warm and familiar, the stubble on his jaw scraping against your skin.

you gasped when his tongue flicked across your collarbone, when his hand slipped under your waistband and cupped you with that same quiet certainty he always had. you arched into him, your body betraying your mind. you hated how easy it was to remember, how good it felt.

you tugged at his shirt and he pulled it off, your hands gliding over his chest like they used to, fingertips tracing the lines you had memorized in another lifetime. his mouth was on your breasts, sucking gently, teeth grazing your nipple just enough to make you moan. you felt yourself pulse under his touch, heat pooling low in your belly, that ache you hadn’t felt in months returning like it never left.

he whispered your name once. just once. then pushed your legs apart, settling between them. you let him. his fingers slipped into you first, slow, deep. you grabbed at his shoulders, breath stuttering as he worked you open. his hands moved like they used to, confident, familiar, like he never forgot how.

and next, he was inside you. so slow it hurt. like he was trying to feel everything. every inch. every second. your bodies moved in sync, rhythm remembered, sweat-slicked and breathless. you held him tight, fingers digging into his back, thighs trembling around his hips as he thrust deeper. his lips traced the curve of your shoulder, your neck, your chest, like muscle memory. but after all that, you felt it.

the absence.

he was there. his skin against yours. his breath hot on your neck. but he wasn’t really with you. not the way he used to be. and god, it hurt.

you buried your face in his shoulder, hoping he wouldn’t hear the way your breath hitched. you kissed his throat to keep from crying. let your body lie for you, while your heart whispered don’t do this, don’t do this.

you came first, with your head buried in his neck, tears slipping down your cheeks before you even noticed. he followed not long after, with a low, broken groan against your skin.

afterward, silence. just the sound of your breathing, uneven and raw and his weight on top of you, heavy and familiar and unbearable. he stayed there for a while. but eventually, he sat up. pulled on his shirt in silence. his fingers lingered on the collar like he was stalling.

you hated how fast the cold returned.

you turned your head slowly, watching the side of his face. he looked calm. almost peaceful. like he’d gotten what he came for. but you hadn’t.

you already knew what was coming next. you saw it in his eyes, that haunted distance. the words came. softly, carefully, as if that would make it hurt less: “i thought maybe… it would feel like before.” your stomach twisted. he looked at you then, finally. “but it doesn’t,” he said. “i don’t think it ever will.”

his words hung in the air like smoke. toxic. suffocating.

you didn’t say anything. what was there to say? you already knew. you had known since the moment you opened the door. he stood. walked to the entryway slowly, like part of him hated this too. but he didn’t touch you. didn’t kiss your forehead. didn’t ask if you were okay.

he just whispered, “i’m sorry,” and left.

but this time, when the door clicked shut, you didn’t cry. you just laid there. naked. still warm from him. but colder than you’d ever felt in your life.

[unsoundedcomic]

Heartbreaking update, I must say. Mathis may have been a pretty shit dad, but he tried, in the end. I know that this will probably be answered in the epilogue, but I'm hoping that Matty doesn't become a ward of the Crescian State. You've said before that Toma wouldn't feel qualified to take him in as a special needs Plat kid, so that probably rules him out. I don't think that Duane or especially Jivi would leave Matty behind. Maybe if Rahm and Iori took him in, but otherwise no. And Sette's Crew could always use a sandwich chef...

At the time of the epilogue, all the kids are in state custody - which is a nice way to say they're being held prisoner. Matty's not the only one who'll need to figure a way out of this situation. There are a lot of unanswered questions, and these kids were all found smack in the middle of the mystery. Cresce has powerful incentive to figure out what they had to do with it - and what they have to do with this Aldish plod they also captured that keeps insisting it's a man.

Next book starts out with... a lot going on :)

[laserbobcat]

I'm starting to be at the point where I can't keep up with my notifs, like, I can't answer everything and some people ask me some questions I've already answered earlier, so I'm gonna chill and probably won't answer as much.

It's so nice tho, compliments feel great, thanks for the dopamine. I just can't keep up.

I do have a pile of unanswered asks, that maybe I will dig into when I need doodle ideas, so keep them coming. But I should focus more on story beats and I'll try to finish some comics.

[hidefdoritos]

[ID: Multicolored sunlight filtering through the stained glass window in a late gothic cathedral.]

[demaparbat-hp]

seeing your ZK art with katara's burn scars I imagine zuko kissing her scarred hands 😭 and ofc she kisses his scar too !!!!!!!!

Scar kisses are my everything.

[deerspherestudios]

How will Mychael react to a person who is kind and good to him, but does not hide their hatred of humanity or clearly does not like people. He himself did not have a great time communicating with society, so I wonder if this will increase his negativity or fear.

Oh definitely! I've actually answered something similar here!

[bringerofdarkness-fancomic]

Bringer of Darkness: Arc 1, Page 28.

That can't be good....

<PREVIOUS | FIRST | NEXT>

[herefortheships]

Lydia: Doesn't dare to even think about her poltergeist bc she's scared of what he might do to her family if he gets out.

Delia: boards up door to the attic. The attic which, even if Beets still lived there, he was never bound to.

Beutelgeuse: ok so I have a haunting at 10am in Ohio, lunch at 12, got 4 hauntings scheduled in NY from 2pm-6pm, gonna lead a spook workshop in Cali at 7pm followed by a bar crawl, sleep that off till 3am, and then follow up with all the clients from this week who are worried bc they heard talk of tv show people showing up. If it's HER show, I'll need to clear up my schedule for when she shows up. If I make the walls bleed and draw little hearts in the blood, is that coming on too strong?

He is unbothered and delusional sure his charms will get him the girl. Love it 😆

In all seriousness, his attempts at making contact with Lydia and courting her, scaring her instead, is one of my favorite things in the sequel. Lydia terrified, meanwhile Betelgeuse out there swooning and sighing over getting to see her again 😂💚. He is definitely coming on too strong, but he so can't see it and it's hilarious.

I'm sure he did help her with the hauntings for her show, too. I hope that one comes up in movie three. No one can take that headcanon away from me. 😌

[out-of-the-loop-official]

Hi! I noticed there were a lot of subreddit blogs getting made lately, and I figured I could make my own. So Here's a tumblr version of r/OutOfTheLoop

If you are out of date on the latest topic whether that be news, drama, meme, etc.? A little confused at what people mean by clown jumpscare? @out-of-the-loop-official is here for you!

Only rules are:

Ask your question in an unbiased manner.

Try to be specific, if your question is too vague or general to understand what it's asking about, it won't be posted.

Please be civil!

Try to answer the question or ask your own legitimate questions in the replies, no judgement here.

I reserve the right to refuse to post your question for any or no reason.

Questions about 18+ topics are allowed, however minors please block "#minors don't look" or "#nsft tw" tags, and please inform me it's an 18+ question in your ask so I can tag it.

If you know of a blog more applicable to your question (especially the ones mentioned below), please send your ask to them instead:

Would appreciate a signal boost from @no-stupid-questions-official @confessions-official @fuck-you-official @am-i-the-asshole-official @rrelationshipadvice

[starscr0ss]

im thinking about celestia and the abyss being literal opposites (chaos and order) and im thinking about childe and lumine being sort of embodiments of that, just not in the way we think. after the latest natlan quest its clear to us what the fatui intends and what they want- i think the tsaritsa more than anything loves humanity, which is why she directly opposes celestia who are known for bringing down different civilizations. childe, as Her weapon and Her blade is an extenction of that: he's a blade forged by the abyss, bathed in Her holyness, meant to strike down those who sin. lumine (talking solely about traveler lumine) is the literal sister of the prince of the abyss, she has clear ties to it and at this point in the story still is hesitant about fully opposing him (i love angst). her entire story revolves around chaose and disrupting celestia's (and the fatui's) order. isnt that fun

i think what childe longs for the most is control- control of himself, his life, his powers, his story, his fate. i think what lumine wants the most is freedom, which is just another phacet of chaos

anyways. you see it. the themes are theming

[rainofthetwilight]

need people to look at this tweet because oh my god, FINALLY someone said it

[souenkun]

Judging from these panels, would it mean that there's no other yorishima exorcist that's still alive (since natori said that the yorishima family "was once" a big name, past tense) in the canon timeline, and that the yorishima we know probably ended his family's exorcism business for good by retiring himself? If so, was the reason tied to the youkai living in his left arm, or is there another cause? And when exactly did he retire— was it before or during seiji and shuuichi's high school days, which was why his left arm appeared with the thick bandages when he gave them the loquats in the anime, but he still lived in the estate during that time, or was it after the two became legal adults, which lined up somewhat with him moving into his forest home, abandoning his family estate in favor of living in isolation?

And, speaking of retirement, I wonder if we'll ever know why midorikawa told us that the takis were "famous" (which presumedly meant they were strong enough to be well-known) as occult diviners, since tooru herself only ever mentioned what their previous family business entails, and never about their status in the exorcism community? We don't really need this extra bit if she wanted to further establish how tooru has an aptitude for spell-casting, either. Again, there's another "strong" family (whose members are still alive in canon) that went into retirement, but did the taki family lost their power because the ability to see (if they were needed for diviners) disappeared for at least the last three generations (if we assumed that tooru and isamu's parents couldn't see youkai too), or was it due to another reason? How close was shinichiro (tooru and isamu's grandpa) to the matobas that even the current clan head came to pay his respects during his sixth death anniversary; was his relationship with seiji's father strictly resolved around exorcism business, or was anything else involved? Does tooru herself doesn't fully understand the prowess her family once had, hence why seiji was the one who told takashi (and us readers) about it? What would this tiny bit of lore mean for tooru with it revealed this late into the manga, when tooru herself only talked sparsely about her ancestors in previous chapters?

[iamchickenhearmesquawk]

Hoping to god that’s not the last we see of Irv and Dylan this season because it felt like a send off (for now) so we can focus on everyone else in the finale.

[1000sunnygo]

Shirai and Posuka's answers to fan questions are here!

Here's the first batch! Part 2 will be released next week.

(the missing question asked which character Shirai sensei sees himself resembling to)

("colored door" implied the colored chapter cover pages. In japanese they're called "tobirae"/扉絵 which literally reads door art)

[fictionadventurer]

A Biltmore Christmas may be the first Hallmark movie to drive me to fanfic.