#religious character

[moonlayl]

When you’re reading about a religious character, and you can tell an atheist wrote them.

[canisalbus]

[z-1-wolfe]

happy pride :3 i offer religious trauma

[catihere]

Considering his upbringing as a Greek demigod with a relatively present godly parent and an apparently open-minded mortal mother, with only a brief part of his childhood spent in fascist Italy, Nico is not very likely to have what we call “religious trauma” or “catholic guilt”.

Will, born and raised in the south of the USA in the early 2000s, on the other hand…

[vulpixelates]

i know it will never happen but i so desperately desire an origins-type playable backstory thing in all games but especially veilguard. i feel like it added so much depth to origins and made you feel instantly connected to your character in a way that gets lost in games like inquisition where you fill in the blanks as you go except for the bare basics. like, i do enjoy the freedom to willy nilly decide where a character was before the events of the story from a creative perspective, but the playable origins were just so good! especially when you go back to where your warden is from and can engage differently with the arcs there

[masksandfaces]

*Another Sunday in Clason City*

Braam goes to church. It sounded odd considering what he does, but there he was. Almost every Sunday for a few years now. He even took a swing at being a Sunday-school teacher for about a year before losing his temper with the folks running things and quitting. Is it quitting if you don't get paid? Whatever, it wasn't about money it was about teaching and there's only so much you could do when the people running things would prefer the church to be an elderly home and makes it almost impossible to make anything fun for the kids.

He had stopped going to church for a little bit but then he could hear his ma's voice in the back of his head reminding him to go and thus he was back again for about a year and a half now. At least he thinks so, time never made sense in Clason City.

This Sunday was no different. Braam sat at the very back near one of the doors, eyes trailing around as he wished he brought a fidget toy. The sermon itself had ended, they already sang the last song even, so now it was time for a short meeting with what felt like a captive audience. Most of the people were elderly, a few younger people, maybe three sets of young parents and a handful of kids strewn in between. His eyes catch on the chipping paint, moving up to one of the lights that has been dead for almost a month now, moving down to a broken stain glass window, then finally on the lady sitting a little ways away in front of him. He thinks she has… he's not sure what it's called but every now and again her head twitches to the side and back a bit. It occurs to him that he doesn't know the names of 99% of the people here.

He makes the mistake to tune back in to what was being said. "If you don't know what to do with yourselves next week you can come help us here-" something something, followed by comments relating to wanting MORE money. How much money do they think these people have? What do they use it for? Food donations? No, the churchgoers provided that. Maintaining the building? Highly unlikely. Helping people? Didn't seem so. Helping their community and/or churchgoers? Also not likely. So the best guess: it all goes to the head honcho, the pastor.

Braam tries to keep his face neutral as he leans back into his seat, crossing his arms. Come on already, he wants to leave. At this rate he may as well stay home and read the Bible in his own language at home.

Finally the last words and possible reprimands were spoken and the captive audience is permitted to leave. Braam of course would wait for most of the people to funnel out the door before standing up himself, digging out whatever money he happened to have on him and trying NOT to have the pastor's voice in the back of his head. He can go back to his apartment and call either his mom or Terrance to rant, probably feel like shit afterwards because who was he to judge and talk right? But right now the annoyance was still recent enough for his blood to still be simmering. He pretends not to be slightly put off by old people smell, doing his best to smile and greet everyone with a nod of acknowledgement. He wasn't even lucky enough to have sunlight or fresh air upon reaching freedom the smell of a light cigarette immediately hitting him. He groans and dodges the crowd, spotting his car in the distance. He mentally throws up a prayer of gratitude that he can LEAVE.

The key in the ignition was such a beautiful sound right now. He waits to be a good while away from the building before turning up the radio, another news story about someone being missing only to have reappeared and had a… change of heart so to say. He rolls his eyes and switches to a different station. The next was talking about a group of foreign campers being wiped out in the forest, with only one survivor. Sounded like Terrance's work, he'll have to alert his friend about this.

[creatingblackcharacters]

I'm at the salon, and was inspired to give you this tip since y'all seem interested in hair a lot here.

If you have a Black Hijabi character:

1) Yes, some do go to salons to get their hair done!

2) Yes, they DO get styles and color! Just because YOU can't see their hair doesn't mean they can't! They will employ the same techniques as anyone else for the styles that they want, and the texture that they have!

3) Any salon worth a damn will have privacy panels or screens for them to remove their hijabs comfortably! Stylists will move these panels so that no one else can see their customer's hair throughout the store. This indicates a level of trust between customer and stylist. This is not going to be a choice made lightly, and proper respect needs to be shown.

[visuac]

disc rot

[fantastic-nonsense]

"Inej is the mom fri—" *loud incorrect buzzer noise* Wrong. You are looking for Matthias Helvar.

[liusia-piu]

[canisalbus]

✦ God didn't exist when you laid with me ✦ The devil didn't touch me when you kissed me

[tav-marcio-leles]

Ohhh, I'm rereading Mystra's entry in the Sword Coast Adventurer's Guide... and this detail:

This means Gale was punished for trying to restore and preserve what he thought was a lost piece of Mystra's magic. Gale being Mystra's ex-lover put aside. He as her follower, she his goddess, was punished for attempting to do the one foundational rule of her faith.

I'm seething and so sad at the same time.

Edit: I used the word punish loosely, as in, toxic/abusive people will take any small mistake or action and twist it into something they can take advantage of. This post was also largely from the stand point of a toxic deity rather than a toxic partner, but both takes are valid here. Especially with the, “you didn’t stay compliant so now I’m giving you the silent treatment” part of it—from a god and a partner perspective.

[hustlebonezzz]

My disease, my infection I am so impure

Reptile - Nine Inch Nails

[adnrewminyard]

imagine being kevin day, son of exy, born and bred to be a cog in the well-oiled machine that is the edgar allan ravens. all you know being the routine of practice and practice and practice and performance and victory alongside those you call brothers.

-and then one day you wake up in your estranged father's apartment between a bottle of painkillers and a bottle of vodka and there is a knot of bandages where your future used to be. you don't wake up at 4am anymore. you sleep until noon and vomit the remainders of life as you knew it into unfamiliar toilets. you watch orange and white clash against each other from sidelines you haven't touched since you started growing facial hair.

your brother doesn't ask you to come home. you would come if he asked. the days are longer here and the food is too rich. the colors are too harsh, the language barrier is too much. you speak and no one understands.

they feel sorry for you, but not for what you have lost, instead for what you have suffered. you try to show them what belonging means, to sever parts of yourself to fit inside a uniform, but they don't understand the necessity of the blade the way your brothers did. they don't understand that suffering feels religious if you do it right.

the therapist tells you it's survivor's guilt but the only survivors you can see are on the court in black and red and they read your eulogy after the game at a press conference. you are not a survivor in any way that matters anymore. how treacherous your heart is for continuing to beat when you can't even hold your lifeline in your hand without dropping it.

you want to go home but your key doesn't open the same door anymore. you want to sit beside your brother but there is no space on his side of the table. you want to be a raven but you are a fox.

you grieve for connection until there is a knife where your neck guard used to sit. you grieve for your life until a boy offers to show you how it feels to survive. you offer to show him how it feels to live. he tells you he won't sever parts of himself to fit the uniform, but there are telltale bloodstains in the fabric from long before you asked.

you wake up at 4am again. you take turns vomiting in the toilet, you when the alcohol level dips too low and him when his smile runs out. he doesn't speak your language but he understands it. he keeps the car running when you visit the therapist. he keeps an eye on your back to watch the 02 on your jersey turn orange. the colors don't seem as harsh anymore.

he offers you safety. he offers you belonging. he offers you the only thing he knows how to give, the only thing you know how to take.

he offers you a lifeline. you pick it up with your right hand.

[psiirockin]

tw : sensitive implications // Pristine oc trend!