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occamstfs · 1 month

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Ramadan Recitations

Here's a Arab/Muslim Cultural TF, figured I may as well throw it up for Eid! May not be for everyone, but may those who enjoy have at it! Happy Eid! -Occam

It’s the end of March and Allen’s roommate has been listening to the Quran out loud for the length of Ramadan. He’s out of town for the weekend and Allen is uncomfortable sitting alone in the silence of their apartment. Now that he hasn’t heard the consistent background melodies of a recitation in a couple days he realizes what delight they brought him. He goes to find the playlist that Mo had been using. Suddenly feeling the golden cross that hangs from his neck everyday he briefly reconsiders before deciding to put on the recitation anyway. Jesus is in the Quran right? It’s not like there’s any harm to appreciating someone else’s culture.

Assuming Mo wouldn’t mind Allen using his speakers he throws on the Tilawa, Mo would be playing it now himself anyway. Allen starts to work as the reciter begins his melodic reading. He almost tunes it out as he starts reading and responding to emails in their shared living room. His body sits at ease as the rhythm of the man’s speaking reverberates through him.

Allen doesn’t speak a word of Arabic, but as he continues to type up droll responses to even duller emails he finds himself paying more attention to the verses than work that he needs to get done. As his distraction rises he tabs away from work and decides to take a break and see what exactly the verses that he’s so fond of are saying. He scans a translation but his eyes glaze over as he remembers Mohammad telling him that to really understand the words of the prophet one must read in his tongue.

Instead Allen just decides to just close his eyes and listen to the deep melodies of the mother tongue. The patterns and unfamiliar tonality provide him a comfort he doesn’t understand. He listens and the song only grows sweeter to his ears, he lies back against the couch as he begins to hum along uncertainly to the music. Allen harmonizes better by the second as he feels some sense of understanding over the distinctively not western scales, however he doesn’t notice as the chain of his necklace breaks, falling to the floor. He doesn’t hear the cross hit the floor instead remaining focused on his serene enjoyment of the man singing scripture to him.

Continuing to hum along, Allen notices that despite trying to keep a steady note, his tone seems to be getting deeper. He clears his throat and finds it’s not only his humming but his voice entire that has lowered in pitch. He rises from his serene reverie to go and find some medicine worried now that he is coming down with the flu. Standing he also notices that the temperature seems as if it’s rising in the apartment as well. Allen goes to grab some medicine, under his breath saying “inshallah I’m not sick eh?” Mo had been teaching him Arabic for some time now, but he always avoiding using it, Inshallah in particular since so many kids who certainly don’t appreciate Arabic culture are throwing it around. At this moment though Allen says it as if it’s an instinct, as if he has been using the language for some time.

Walking to a medicine cabinet Allen doesn’t notice as the volume increases on the speakers to still reach his ears. Words continue to steadily flow into his mind, standing in front of the cabinet he finds alongside the still increasing warmth there is a soreness starting to appear through the whole of his body. He groans in his deeper voice, feeling his Adam’s apple rest strangely on his throat as he tries to stretch out his soreness. It’s like he hit the gym this morning, though he certainly has not. He takes deep slow breaths as he bends down to work out the pain in his legs and torso, unaware as his body begins to lengthen in height. He feels the aircon blow up his shirt as his midriff is now exposed, he pulls it down in vain before reaching to grab medicine, accidentally overshooting thanks to his added height.

Allen makes his way back to the living room, dry swallowing his flu medicine before sitting back down to enjoy his repose. This time not only does he have an instinctual understanding of the melody and rhythm, but he finds himself knowing what words are to come next in the verses. Surely he hasn’t heard recitations that much right? He doesn’t even speak the language how could he possibly, nevertheless he starts whispering under his breath the words he feels should be next and finds himself right on the money. His whispering slowly grows in volume as he finds himself beginning to sing along with the tapes, “Bismillah al-Rahman al-Rahim…” he continues on with the verse, singing as if classically trained.

He shoves his hand over his mouth in shock and finds another surprise awaiting him on his face. He is perpetually clean-shaven for work and yet all of a sudden there is stubble growing on his face. Allen rushes to the restroom to inspect his face and finally finds something impossible happening to him. He sees the roots of his hair growing darker, pushing thicker out from his head. Not only has he suddenly grown stubble but the scruff on his face is rapidly approaching a full beard. As he clutches at his hair and beard in inspection he finds that the changes are not isolated to his face.

He sees his arms stretch further from his shirt than they did this morning and feels the awkward gaps on his waist and ankles, and feels the air blow against the dark hairs beginning to spread up his stomach and legs. He sees hair thicker than his pubes begin to grow on his wrists spreading indeterminably up his arms. The reciter’s voice grows stronger as Allen inspects himself, his eyes racing from one part of his body to another seeking any sign of normality. He feels an itch in his pits and on his chest as the song rises in pitch and volume. There is a drive in his chest to continue singing along but as he makes eye-contact with himself in the mirror, seeing the blue eyes he’s always loved swiftly staining themselves the color of coffee before darkening even further he knows that there can be no explanation for this other than that man’s voice.

He clenches his jaw to keep himself quiet as he races through the living room to shut off the speakers. His longer legs trip over themselves as each frantic breath he takes begins to expand his chest. Beyond the physical changes to his body he feels a change begin to take root in his mind. Allin feels he must be big, he must be strong. It is as Allah wills it. He stumbles in front of the speakers as he finds himself torn on what to do. He sees his arms darken under the still growing forest of hair on his arms, his biceps tearing his sleeves as they tan. Growing chest hair tickling his shirt he feels muscle surge from his chest as he raises his hand to yank the speakers from the wall.

The voice of the man singing grows to a din as it is joined by a chorus of other voices within Alin’s head. Thousands of recitations, of songs, the Quran and countless Hadith surge into his mind in a horrible cacophony. He yanks the power cord from the wall and the dissonant symphony within his mind vacates. And Alin is once more left alone with himself, his ears ringing and his vision blotchy. Slowly recovering and laying on the floor he begins to hear himself groan through the tinnitus. Even his moaning sounds changed as the man begins to lose his English vocabulary to learn the only tongue that shall truly matter to him now, that of the sacred book.

He whines to himself switching between eloquent Arabic vulgarities and English more accented by the second, he sees a cross necklace next to him, calling out quite loudly, “Madha? What is this?” Must be a prank from Mo, ach he needs to work on his material eh. Sitting alone in the living room Alin tries to think of what to do to distract himself, both from the silence surrounding him and from the flood of information storming in his head. Suddenly everything becomes simpler when he decides to just do what he always does, turning to the East Alin sees Mo’s prayer rug, always lying out for convenience’s sake. Alin grimaces and briefly considers phoning Mo for his lack of dedication, but upon seeing the skintight outfit he is wearing to pray he reconsiders. He should focus on correcting himself before fretting over even his friend.

Alin closes his eyes once more, languishing in the quiet for one moment before he begins his own, his deep voice ringing out as he sings verse in praise, “Ah, Allahu Akbar.” His chest growing to hold more breath and his pecs begin to surge large enough to honor Allah with his body. He hugs his stomach as he continues “Subhanakal-lahumma wabihamdika-” He feels his biceps pull against his massive chest and almost smirks as he thinks about them, he feels an urge, a desire to flex the them before clicking his tongue at himself to stay on task.

“Subhanna rabbeeyal adheem-” he bends down, feeling his thighs and ass push out behind him, ripping large tears into his pants At the same time Alin sees the bulge in his pants grow larger, popping his zipper and escaping from his pants. He sharply inhales as he feels everything is suddenly more intense. He feels his body grow beyond the limits of his clothes. He feels his already larger cock begin to grow erect and Alin, continues to sing “Rabbana walakal hamd-”

Finally he prepares to do his favorite part of Rakats, he gets to his knees before fully prostrating himself. Continuing the prayer as he feels his beard grow heavier on his face. His forehead touches the floor and he smiles, feeling a warm itch in his crotch as his briefs strain to contain him, pubes spilling out every way, “Subhanna rabbeeyal ‘alaa”

He rises back to seating, the motion creating an intense pang of pleasure throughout his body as he struggles to maintain control of his senses. He ekes out, “Rabbigh-fir lee…” becores cumming in his briefs. He finishes the Rakat in his solid pants before promptly leaving to regain his dignity and change into actual prayer appropriate attire, changing into a thobe and doing two Rak’a ending with a Tashahhud as one is to do.

Ali smiles as he sits in reflection having finally quieted the chaos within his mind. He feels his strong body hidden under the thobe and comforted in his time spent worshiping. His final thoughts before he decides to do another round of Rak’a is a conviction to thank Mo for sending him that playlist of Quranic Recitations. He does not know who he would be without it. Inshallah he shall get the chance to bring his light to others. He rubs his hands down his powerful body as he stands. Wallah, they don't know what they’re missing.

#male tf #mental change #cultural change #racial change #masculinization #muscle tf #race change

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rebel-at-heart713 · 1 year

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Is anyone else very impressed with how Rick Riordan basically tricked Disney into publishing books with very LGBT+ characters which sort of seems like something Disney tries to hide. (Hide meaning only tiny glimpses that they can hide easily)

What I mean by “tricking”

The Lightning Thief. Simple. All the kids are assumed cis white and straight. Only really inclusive in the way that they have learning disabilities and messy family life. And it stays that way, maybe adding some side characters that are POC, (Beckendorf being described as black but there’s not much interaction with him until The Demigod Files and Last Olympian. Maybe you could say Nico and Bianca are Italian immigrants.

Then you get to Heroes of Olympus, where out of the 7 in Great Prophecy only 3 are white, (you got Piper being Native American, Hazel is Black, Leo is Latino and Frank is Chinese-Canadian) but most are still assumed straight. Until you get Nico’s reveal in House of Hades (if I remember right)

But then….oh boy.

Trials of Apollo.

Apollo is the main character and canonically bisexual, talking about several past lovers some male some female. Even stating one of his campers mortal parent is also her father. There is a cannon gay couple. There’s a cannon old lesbian couple.

Magnus Chase

Practically cannon gay couple (one deaf), Muslim character, pan character, trans gender fluid.

Now we are getting a book that stars a gay couple.

Rick basically said to Disney, “look at these! Harmless adventure stories. Look. Locked in? Okay! POC and LGBT+ can’t say no to me now I’m selling too many books. If I go to someone else I’ll just be making them money.

I just find it very funny, but I also credit Rick with exposing me to a lot of it. Before I read these books I hadn’t seen too much of this stuff in other media.

(Also adding how in Daughter of the Deep the main character gets her period in the middle of the book and it’s treated as normal.)

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boldlygoingtohell · 6 months

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In a weird way, as a Jew, I can kinda take Normal Antisemitism™️.

I mean, I understand where right-wing racists are coming from when it comes to their antisemitism. At the end of the day, theirs just comes from fear, replacement theory, etc… It’s easily identifiable. 2+2=4. Yea its shitty, but I see how they got from A to B and it’s a straight line.

But left-wing antisemitism?? Like, how does that happen? I thought the left was about supporting minority groups, encouraging them to speak and be heard. But all I’m seeing from leftists these days (I myself being super fucking liberal, left, etc…) is just waves and waves of antisemitism. And yes it has to do with Israel, but these people are incapable of criticizing the Israeli government without going “all Jews are responsible!” in the process. It's infuriating.

Are all the the world’s Jews, millions of which live OUTSIDE of Israel, now responsible for Israel’s actions? I'M a stupid American! I’ve never even BEEN to Israel, much less know the intricate details of a geo-political conflict whose complexities go willfully unlearned by armchair activists in favor of yelling in all caps for 140 characters.

But what really gets me, and I mean REALLY get me about the whole situation, is the hypocrisy.

Remember how awful it was when we saw waves of Islamophobic hate crimes after 9/11, American Muslims with no ties to al-Qaeda being targeted for the faith those terrorists claimed to represent?

Or do you remember standing against the wave of anti-Asian hate crimes that was spurned on by COVID falsehoods? The “China virus” as Trump so eloquently put it? You remember being pissed about that, not blaming Asian Americans but standing with them against hate?

And hell, I’ve heard there has been a rash of Islamophobic attacks again because of the Israeli-Gaza conflict. That’s fucking awful, and I will stand against that bull shit because it does not belong here, end of story.

But now there are also antisemitic attacks, hate crimes, being perpetrated around the world. And who are the perpetrators now? The left that stood against everything else. There's no widespread ally-ship for Jews like me. There's no sweeping social media campaign, no catchy hashtag, no ice bucket challenge.

Why am I allowed to be condemned for what a country on the other side of the world is doing, when I have nothing to do with it? Why can I have the finger pointed at me when I don’t want the fighting in the first place? Why must Jews be allowed to be the target of this ire when it's already been decided that other ethnicities/religions don't deserve it either?

Now, I am PROUD to be Jewish; it is my culture, in my heritage, in my literal blood. It is in my genetics, my bones, my spoken language, it is in the holidays I celebrate, the philosophies I live by.

But it is also in the generational trauma of my mother insisting I have a passport as a young child, not because we were traveling, but in case we had to flee. It is in her inherent distrust of the government; a card-carrying Democrat all her life, she would always remind me, "if you don't think the government can't turn on you, you're kidding yourself." It is her constant reminders that as a Jew, our assimilation is conditional, our acceptance is political. I felt these, but never as strongly as she did. Not until now.

I am third generation American, and yet I feel like an outsider in the only country I have ever known. People who I thought understood, who were my friends, who marched with me against the injustices of the world, are now calling after Jews to answer for Israel's actions.

I say I don't want the violence to persist and I'm told that I'm, "one of the good ones". I'm told hurt Israelis don't deserve sympathy because, "all Jews are rich anyway, right? Who cares." I tell them my fears about the rising antisemitism and wearing my star of david necklace out. I'm told, "it doesn't matter, you're white anyway."

For the first time in my life, the racists aren't just some crazy KKK members. They're not just Nazis marching around with beer bellies and ill fitting helmets. It's not just some screeching street preacher who claims I'm going to hell after he caught the glint off my star of david necklace. If needs be, I can kick and punch my way out of those. They're just idiots. Isolated, concentrated incidents. It'd be a good story to tell at a bar the next day though a gap-toothed smile and a sling on my shoulder.

But now, both sides are coming after me and my people. Now, it's not just idiots who have all of their views backwards; it's people I thought I could trust to have my back, to go down swinging with me against those Nazis. Right. Left. It's everywhere. There's no escape.

It's coming from all sides. It's coming from social media platforms, from dinners with friends, from posters on street lamps.

I live in one of the safest, most Jewish neighborhoods in America, and for the first time in my life I am truly scared.

#jumblr #antisemitism #judaism #jewish #I'm just so tired of it all #I wasn't an anxious person before this #racism #long post I guess #can we go back to the days of punching Nazis?#life was simple

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edenfenixblogs · 6 months

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I don’t think most non-Jews understand how disappointed we are in the left right now. How completely abandoned we’ve become. How our contributions to progress for other groups have been erased or disavowed or hidden. How the actual tangible things that Jews have contributed to black rights and civil rights are being ignored. How we’re being told we contribute and have contributed nothing.

How we are being told that the world has been kind to us when it never has. As if my mom didn’t grow up getting called a Kike and getting beat up for being Jewish. How I thought I had friends until I caught them saying “xyz was beautiful until Jews showed up.” How people told me I was pretty “for a Jew.” How I grew up hearing stories about bombs being set off in Israel in buses and markets. How I couldn’t even go two weeks without hearing that and how nobody cared and somehow, every time that happened, the whole world became more hostile to me for some reason.

I just don’t understand. I don’t understand what leftists are doing. Or why. I hate that I have to say—of course, I support a free and self determined Palestine (which I truly do)—in order for you to decide I’m worthy of care and support.

We showed up for you. All of you. And the entire movement is abandoning us at best or targeting us at worst. Celebrating our deaths. Saying we deserved it. How are we supposed to trust you ever again? How are we supposed to feel safe ever again?

A very few select people who are in my life have taken the chance to actually learn about and dismantle their own unconscious antisemitism during this time. And I’m eternally grateful for them. But most people haven’t reached out at all. Most people are still sharing hateful things that could get me hurt and they don’t care. Most people Reblogging my posts are still Jews. Because we are alone. And it sucks. You need to be as loud about antisemitism as you are about Palestine or you’re an antisemite (unless you’re Arab/Muslim/Palestinian—I totally get that these groups are also doing damage control in their own communities just like Jews are).

But we are all in tremendous pain right now.

This moment will pass. And when it does, I will remember how many people let me down. I will remember that when I needed support more than I’ve ever needed it in my life, people fucking vanished. They pretended violence against my people wasn’t happening. They ignored and rewrote the history of Israel to suit their own narratives.

You don’t know what it feels like to be hated this much for opposite things. PoC hate us for being too white. White supremacists hate us for not being white enough. Europeans hate us for being middle eastern. Middle easterners hate us for being western/European. Everyone hates us for being settlers but continually kicks us out of their countries so that we have to settle somewhere else.

I saw a post going around from a Black person who said that the reason he and his fellow black activists go protest for Palestinians instead of fighting antisemitism (as if it’s a binary, which it’s not) is that Jews don’t show up. Muslims and Palestinians do. And honestly? Fuck that guy. Heather Heyer died standing shoulder to shoulder against racism in 2017. [CORRECTION: When I first wrote this post I was under the impression that Heather Heyer was Jewish. I want to correct to avoid spreading misinfo. She was just the first (and incorrect) Jewish civil rights activist I thought of. However there are plenty of other actual Jewish civil rights activists to choose from. If you have reblogged this post from me, please feel free to add a link to the permalink version of this post with my correction to your reblog.]I have devoted substantial time and effort and money that I don’t even get paid a lot of because I don’t get paid a living wage. I have continually reached out to PoC people in my life of all religions to ask how they are doing and what I could be doing to help more—both for them personally and how they would best like me to help their community. I have elevated their voices at every opportunity. And not one person I checked in with has done the same for me or for my community.

And it’s bone chilling. It’s awful. And it’s even worse knowing that when it’s over, people will want to go back to normal. They won’t apologize. They won’t self reflect. They’ll just live their lives, maybe a little more aware of how much they hate us and completely indifferent to the harm they’ve caused us. How disposable they made us feel. And the thing is…it’s not hard for you to know. You just have to ask.

Too many people are cowards. Too many people care about looking good than actually learning something or making the world better. And to those people: you should be ashamed of yourself.

I don’t have any hate in my heart. Truly. Not a drop for any group of people. But I have a tremendous lack of trust that anyone would actually lift a finger to keep me safe.

#antisemitism #leftist antisemitism #anti zionisim #I dare a goy to republic this challenge #goyim ID yourself in the tags if you reblog this #cuz i straight up don’t believe goyisch activists give a shit unless they straight up say they do #i’m not okay #honestly #this is the Nazi stuff I am most scared of #sure the Nazis rounded us up #but you fuckers were the ones who watched and did nothing #you’re the ones who voted the Nazis in #you’re the ones who didn’t stop them #fuck all y’all for real #i/p #israel #palestine #correction issued

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your-mom-friend · 10 months

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I think maybe the saddest thing about extremely religious people is that they genuinely believe that you’ll go to hell if you don’t accept their Lord. I mean this mostly about Muslims, I can’t speak much for Christianity

I was raised in a Muslim country. In the schools there all Muslim students had to attend Islamic studies classes, while the non-Muslim students had moral science classes.

Aside from Islamic history and theology, one of the first things that I was taught that really stuck to me, was that people who rejected the word of Allah would be sent to Jahannam (Hell). Those who were ignorant of the True Religion would be spared but anyone who had heard the Truth of Allah and didn’t accept it? They would go to hell. My teacher even said that in this day and age, with access to the internet, no one has the excuse of being ignorant now.

It terrified me. What about my friends? My school had Hindus and Christian galore. What about them? They were good people. Were they going to hell? Couldn’t I help them? One of my other Muslim friends actually started sobbing about it. “Rem.. I don’t- I don’t want my friends to go to Hell, Rem”

We were Seven. Years. Old.

No kid deserves that

And as I’ve grown older I’ve only seen more of it. And I feel heartbroken. These are people that truly believe in their faith and within that belief they’re taking the most moral action they are capable of taking. They don’t want people to go to hell. They want people to go to heaven. They are so fearful of their Lord that they’re willing to be the bad guy in this life to see you next to them in Jannah (Heaven). They believe that. With their entire hearts and it crushes me every single time.

I think about it every time my mother talks about modesty. I think about it every time my father reminds me about prayer. Everytime one of the elder relatives reminds us kids to read the Quran.

I think about it every time I remember that I told my sister that I was terrified that one day she wouldn’t keep my sexuality a secret because she believed it would be the morally correct thing to tell my parents and she couldn’t look at me and say that it wouldn’t happen.

And I’m never going to be able to hate them for it, because I’ll know in my heart that they’re doing what they’re doing with the best of intentions even if it fucking kills me and every damn time I think about it it makes me burst into tears

#rem rambles #tw religious mention #tw religious trauma #ex muslim #ex religious #the inherent guilt of existing as a Muslim

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lawbreaker13 · 1 month

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I need to ask this. What is your problem? I’ve seen millions of Jewish ppl including myself call this stuff out genuinely so don’t start with the tokenism bs. Seriously why are you acting like Israel isn’t trying to kill as many Palestinians as possible. Not to mention they already did that with Palestinian Jews as well so the issue isn’t antisemitism at all. What is the actual problem pls tell me rn. And don’t mention h&mas either bc if I do remember, there were bombings before 2000 and ppl have been dying before that.

I am SO confused by this ask.

Palestinian Jews don’t exist. Jews are not allowed in Palestinian territories. Israelis are not allowed in Gaza. I have NO idea what you’re talking about.

Israel sends out dud bombs and makes calls before firing at civilian-heavy spaces that are sheltering bombs and missiles. That is UNHEARD OF in wars, ESPECIALLY if the intent is to “kill as many Palestinians as possible.”

There are photos and videos of the IDF clearing way for Palestinians to evacuate Gaza at the beginning of this war. That is not the act of people with the intent to “kill as many Palestinians as possible.”

When Israel was attacked on October 7th, when people were murdered in cold blood, raped, beheaded, and set on fire for merely existing, on a Jewish holiday, in their homes and at music festivals, they did not fire back immediately. If you recall, they gave Gazans a 24-hour warning to leave. People cried out, “That’s not enough time!” And you know what? They waited. Before firing back against a broken ceasefire and an attempted genocide of THEIR PEOPLE, Israel issued a public warning and waited 48 hours before firing back ONCE. THAT is NOT the act of people with the intent to “kill as many Palestinians as possible.”

The truth of the matter is that we know how much foreign aid Israel receives. Israel had the ability to construct The Iron Dome. They have all the resources they need in terms of a military. If they WANTED to “kill as many Palestinians as possible,” they could. They could blow it all up tomorrow.

NOBODY WANTS THAT.

We don’t WANT Palestinians to die. We don’t WANT civilians killed. We don’t WANT hospitals destroyed. WE DO NOT WANT TO FIGHT.

If the conflict in the Middle East was easy to fix, it wouldn’t be a problem. It wouldn’t have been the butt of every joke for decades. There would be no conflict.

Jews and Muslims are peaceful people. We understand each other so well. We do not want to fight. And Gazans know that. And Israelis know that. Speak to people there. Go there. And speak to them. Not through social media. Go and speak to them. I don’t mean “put yourself in a war zone.” This isn’t a threat. I mean, go and speak to them yourself, don’t allow the algorithm and filters to make the decision for you. Eliminate the possibility of being catfished and misled. Talk to them yourself. They don’t want to fight. None of them want to fight. I promise you.

What’s my problem?

My problem is that people keep making my posts about antisemitism and double standards about something they’re not about, therefore enforcing the very point I’m trying to make. My problem is that people keep sending me threats and critiques on anon instead of saying things to my face. My problem is that when my friends and family were murdered in Israel and in Gaza, I was told that they “had it coming.”

My problem is that my grandfather fought so hard to come to America after saving his own mother from the concentration camps. He killed Nazis. He saved children. He saved his family. And then he fled to America for a better life. He joined the navy. He kept fighting until he knew his children would be safe. And now my father can’t even wear his yarmulke in public.

My problem is that my sister was punched in the face for being a Jew.

My problem is that someone was stabbed to death three blocks from my parents’ house in their own home because they were celebrating Chanukah.

My problem is that my cousin is celebrating his bar mitzvah in June, and if I tell people that I’m going to celebrate with him, they’ll never speak to me again. Because he was born in Israel.

My problem is that you don’t have the chutzpah to look me in the eye and tell me that Judaism is only ok the way you practice it, and antisemitism isn’t real because you don’t experience it the way I do.

My problem is that I want to live in peace with my Palestinian friends. And people like you don’t believe me.

And my biggest problem is that you’re not even gonna read this post.

#Antisemitism #Israel #Hamas #Jews #Jewish #Judaism #Gaza #Palestine #Muslims #Arab #Arabs #Middle East #Jumblr #Asks #Anon #Personal #Mine

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rose-tea-and-strawberries · 2 months

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Celebrating Ramadan With Ace and Deuce

Platonic Ace x muslim!fem!reader x Deuce

Masterlist

First of all these boys would be so accommodating with you if you’re a muslim

They’d try to learn as much as they could about your religion either from you or asking a few Scarabian students.

They’d even ask the Scarabian students for things like lunar calendars or tasbihs or travelling prayer mats in case you need one

They do their best to make sure you’re comfortable if you’re the type that has issues being too close with the opposite gender, always making sure to keep a respectable distance between you and ensuring that the rest of the student body do the same

If you want to pray, they’d just wordlessly use their bags as your sutrah and basically be your bodyguards until you’re done

Also, for the hijabi girlies, they’d be so respectful. If your hair starts to show they’d avert their eyes quicker than you could blink and inform you. If anyone bothers you or looks at you in a way that you’re not comfortable with, they’d be decked onto the floor in a flash.

You bet they would have a few spare hijab pins or carry an extra shawl in case of emergencies

Anyway, back to Ramadan

So when you tell them about fasting, they’d first get all shocked. Poor Deuce is besides himself thinking that you’ll be starving yourself for a whole month before you elaborate on how it’s just from sunrise to sunset and then explain the spiritual significance for it.

Not going to lie, these guys are so the type to be like “you can’t even drink water?? 🙃”

They’re both super proud of you and are just in constant awe of your strength

I feel like they’d want to do it with you as a show of unity, and to help you with your homesickness, but since they’re both athletes (especially with Deuce being in such a high stamina/adrenaline sport like Track and Field), you suggest that they start with half fasts to ease themselves into it

(also props to everyone that still works out during fasting hours - you’re all incredible and absolute superheroes. My mum goes to the gym practically every morning and I’m still amazed every time.)

Also, when you’re doing your make up fasts to compensate for the ones you missed due to mother nature, you bet they’ll be right by your side fasting with you

I bet Deuce would feel genuinely offended if someone ate in front of you. Like he’d just stare at someone as if they’re smuggling contraband instead of just munching on their sandwich.

They make sure to do as much as you can so you could rest as much as possible. They set the table for iftar and suhoor (they even get up before you and wake you up), and do the cleaning up whilst you go to pray

Food usually comes from Sam’s shop or Trey (I don’t remember how they were during the culinary crucible but I really wouldn’t want those two in my kitchen before iftar whilst I’m fasting)

They’re always carrying your bag/things and practically never leave your side. Ramshackle is practically their second home at this point.

They love to learn more about your practices, especially traditions that you would do back home and you feel so loved to share that with them. You even teach them arabic (which ends with you getting a stern talking to from Jamil when Ace practices your lessons during basketball club)

Having a henna night with them would be so fun, just listening to nasheeds as you apply henna to both yourself and your best friends (who would take it so seriously and make such a noticeable effort to stay completely still until it dries and it’s both endearing and hilarious)

Okay but one time my sister fell asleep on her hand with henna on it and she woke up the next morning with a faded orange matching pattern on her cheek and that totally happens to Ace

They would totally (with Scarabia’s help) decorate Ramshackle with lights and lanterns to make it all festive

Just the two of them acting as your family in this strange new world 💛

#muslim reader #twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #deuce spade x reader #ace trappola x reader #ace x reader x deuce #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland headcanons #fem reader

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artist-issues · 4 months

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so here's something I'm curious about: God's Not Dead. The films, not the statement itself.

I first saw the first film when I was younger and I hadn't yet embarked on my journey on examining just what i was taught and what I truly believed, but I remember finding the film a little uncomfortable.

I saw the second film and Ive never watched the third, and I think what I really don't like the first film is how it bashes other people's walks of life (Muslim father, three brands of athiests, and how it continues the myth that Christians in The United States are being Persecuted for their Faith Right Now.

Oh yeah and how the plots are really really dumb too, since the first film centers around a philosophy class with a professor that is skipping a very important part of most College degrees and the second takes place in a Bible Belt State with a high school teacher answering a students question comparing Marting Luther King Jr to Jesus's Sermon on the Mount and being taken to court over it.

I was twelve or so when I saw that movie and I honestly was not convinced by the film That God's Not Dead (in terms of the actual arguments in the class scenes.

The specific Denomination that I grew up with (Adventist) focuses a LOT™ on the end times so I do know about the future persecution thing well but like, I don't think we're there yet.

Anyway if you don't know those movies, feel free to ignore this ask but I'm genuinely curious about your thoughts on them, wether positive or negative or neutral

Hi! I saw the first God’s Not Dead in theaters. Never re-watched it. Did not see the sequels.

The good thing about God’s Not Dead is that people worked hard to make something that might shine a counter-cultural light on the truth that the God of the Bible exists. Stories that try to point to truth are on the right track, baseline.

The bad thing about God’s Not Dead is that it took things that are real, and genuine, and true…and it made them feel fake. By telling the story with strange conclusions and weird-triumph moments.

The thesis of the movie, that God is not dead, is something that only non-Christians would need to be convinced of. But the movie is clearly made for Christians. So. Yeah, it’s uncomfortable.

But you shouldn’t find every experience that the movie tries to portray uncomfortable because they don’t happen. You should find it uncomfortable because they don’t happen in that cheesy, Hallmark-grade way.

When a student stands up to their professor and says, “no, I’m not going to go along with this, and this is super weird that you’re trying to draw this line about the specific Christian God,” guess what? The whole classroom doesn’t usually get up and agree with you. They normally barely react. So even though some professors do put their foot down and try to mock or “kill” God in the classroom, and some students do push back, no. It doesn’t normally happen in that victorious way.

Just like how some young Muslim converts to Christianity genuinely are treated poorly by their families, or their community, not just in America, but absolutely, certainly around the world. Absolutely, certainly. I literally can think of not one, but two examples I’ve recently heard of, directly, from people I know.

Like I said, the events and life-experiences that the first God’s Not Dead movie are based on do technically happen all the time in America, and the West, and the world in general. They just don’t normally come with crowd-agreement, impactful music, wise one-liners, and celebrity appearances. The worst thing that the God’s Not Dead movie does is show you hints of things that are real, and really happen in real life, but cheeseball way it shows you those things, and the caricatures it turns people into, makes the real thing look fake.

As far as “the myth that Christians are Persecuted Right Now in America” goes…you just have to decide what you mean by “persecuted.”

If you mean, are we getting our heads run over by cement mixers, or dragged out of our homes and imprisoned for studying or even owning a Bible, or kidnapped by hired hitmen once our families find out we’re Christians, like they are in Yemen or Africa or basically anywhere outside the West…no. No, we’re not facing persecution like that. We’re not persecuted.

But if you mean, in the context of this conversation, that “atheists and professors and people in the professional sector of our education systems don’t have a weirdly specific bone to pick with Christians,”then you’re wrong. They do. They have. For a long time.

My second semester in college, in my plain old World History class, the Professor legitimately opened his class by explaining to us students that if we wanted, he would allow us to replace our midterm and our final exams with book reports as long as we read two specific books he assigned us. One was a book about how Jesus of Nazareth was not the Messiah and the Bible was false. The other book was a fictional short novel with heavy themes criticizing specifically Christian religion. Those were the two books he picked for his students to skip taking the midterm and the final, if only they would read those two books. And those were the ones he chose.

Not only that, but literally in the first class, I remember being stunned when he flippantly opened his summary of the 18th century by saying, “If anyone ever tells you you should check out the God of the Bible, and follow him, laugh in their face. Don’t do it. He is the kind of God who likes to make His people promises and then strand them in the desert for forty years!” First class. Out the gate. Like it was a joke.

It’s not a joke. Dude just openly mocked two out of the three major world religions that people identify with across the globe. Explain to me how telling someone never to convert to a specific religion and to mock it instead is anything other than “discrimination?”

Can you imagine a Professor getting up in front of a class and saying, “if anyone ever tells you that you should check out Allah ] and follow him, convert to Islam, laugh in their face! And here’s one short novel and one historically inaccurate essay criticizing Allah and making fun of Islam; if you’ll read these, tell you what, I’ll let you skip the two most stressful exams of the semester!”

No, of course you can’t imagine that. A Professor who did that about any other religion, creed, or god would be fired or taken to court or penalized or dragged on social media, at least. But the only student in the whole room who batted an eye when he said that about the Christian God was me. The only one who said anything was me. And it wasn’t a big stand up, dramatic declaration. Momentous music didn’t play in the background. My friends and classmates didn’t’] gasp or support me or stand up and agree with me.

It was just me raising my hand and saying in a shaky voice with a red face, after the sixth time he’d randomly deviated from talking about the Roman plumbing system to describe how the Apostle Paul and the other Apostles supposedly disagreed about who Jesus was (big lie, not true at all, but often used to “discredit” the Bible) to say, “sir, that’s not true. It doesn’t make sense. There’s a verse in the Bible where the Apostle Peter literally tells the church that the Apostle Paul’s words are directly from God.” And then he was like, “okay, I’m going to move on.”

I mean I just felt kind of stupid because the whole class was confused about the interaction; nobody was treating it like it was as important as me or the professor was, so it felt awkward to “make a stand.” But rest assured, all over the freakin’ country, people are excited to use up way too much of their brain power and emotional energy mocking, disparaging, and trying to discredit the God of the Bible and Christianity. They don’t believe in Him, but they’re so he’ll-bent on making sure nobody else does either?? Like, I don’t believe in Big Foot, but I’m not walking around trying to barter my students into reading anti-Big Foot books by giving them a pass on their midterms. But that’s how lots and lots of “athiests” treat the specific Christian God.

That’s not new. It’s not dramatic. It’s not persecution. It’s alllll part of the same old song and dance.

But it is real. The worst thing about God’s Not Dead is it made it feel fake and caricature, when it happens all the time and matters 🤷‍♀️ Anyway. Hope that answered your question.

#God’s not dead #cheesy Christian movies #cheesy #movies #Christianity #me #sorry about the personal anecdote #critical thinking

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onceinabluemun · 6 months

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Wallah all that’s been in my mind the past two months are the Muslims suffering. Seeing so much coverage on Gaza showing how high Iman these people have, and how much they’re suffering not a day goes by. Seeing them I remember there are other Muslims being oppressed. The Uyghurs. The Kurds. The Afghans. So, so many.

They smile and say

"‏حسبنا الله ونعم الوكيل"

Allah is sufficient for us, Allah is sufficient for us

Even as they look at the blue, limp bodies of their loved ones they smile with so much pain in their eyes, point their finger to the sky and smile. This level of faith; I pray to be close to that strength at least. To smile despite all my hurt, to fear nothing. Absolutely nothing.

My throat stings every day. I open my phone and see new coverage on the genocide happening right now. Fathers pulling rubble with their bare hands calling for their children. Animals suffering. Plants burning. Families, entire bloodlines mercilessly wiped out. I cry. I choke tears back. Sometimes I slap a hand to my mouth to cover the gasp, when I see organs lying in the dust or a child’s ripped scalp. Remnants of human beings that laughed and loved and believed in Allah just like me. The pain cracks me. Not a day goes by where I forget.

And some people are already going “why you talking about it so much stop” this is all thats in my mind. It is the reason I say Hasbunallah Wa nimal Wakeel, the reason why Ive been praying more, making more dua, more dhikr. Its the reason why Ive been letting people go and trusting that Allah’s plan and his justice is near. I count my blessings. I don’t know when I’m going to die. Am I ready to face my Creator? I want to be honored with martyrdom, with the gift of being a Mujahida. I must be worthy of that first. This remarkable hope and strength is the most precious gift anyone has ever given me, and this was a gift from the beloved people of Palestine.

Wallah it’s in my mind every second of the day and in Jannah I want to thank the martyrs and kiss the martyr childrens’ hands and tell them how much they’ve inspired me. Palestine has freed us.

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lemonlyman-dotcom · 4 months

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Thank you for the tags @thisbuildinghasfeelings @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @sznofthesticks @orchidscript @paperstorm @alrightbuckaroo @heartstringsduet & @fallout-mars 💕 I’m about to go make myself a coffee and enjoy all your sneaks.

Question: are there any Muslim folks in the fandom or adjacent fandoms who would be willing to help me with a sensitivity read for this one? It would be much appreciated! ❤️

“I remember that year during Eid I felt like I couldn’t participate, like I’d failed and I was a fraud for celebrating. But my mom and my aunties pulled me aside, told me they were so proud of me. I’ll always remember what my mom said. She said, ‘Habibi, there are many ways to show your faith and love to Allah. Don’t worry about what others are saying about you. You pick the ones that are right for you. He knows your heart.’”

“I’m sorry you can’t be with your family today, Marj. I wish I had known it was Eid. I could have tried to make today special for you.”

“TK, are you kidding?” A genuine smile crosses her face as she gestures to their surroundings, then to the table covered with the remnants of the food they’ve spent the last hour devouring. “Today is special. Look how we celebrated.”

Before he can respond, their waiter approaches and gestures to Marjan’s empty tea cup, offering to read her tea leaves. When she enthusiastically agrees, he turns the cup upside down on its saucer and waits a minute. Upon turning it back over he picks it up and examines it with a careful eye.

“Well,” he says with a knowing smile, “the leaves show that yours will be a long and happy friendship. The rim is full, showing that you are building a strong foundation. There is a dagger in the middle. This symbolizes many trials and tribulations in the near future, but you will support each other through them all. The clover in the bottom symbolizes prosperity; your lives will be full of laughter and joy.”

“Hey,” Marjan says, laughing brightly. “I told you it was a special day! Let’s get a baklawa!”

Tagging @whatsintheboxmh @your-catfish-friend @inkweedandlizards @chicgeekgirl89 @carlos-in-glasses @redshirt2 @ladytessa74 @freneticfloetry @kiwichaeng @my-little-tilly @tinyluminaryzombie @bonheur-cafe @basilsunrise @birdclowns @louis-ii-reyes-strand @herefortarlos @carlos-tk @apothecarose @rmd-writes @thebumblecee @theghostofashton @welcometololaland @reyesstrand @strandnreyes @liminalmemories21 @lightningboltreader @iboatedhere @never-blooms @ambiguouspenny @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @noxsoulmate @detective-giggles @moviegeek03 @literateowl and OPEN TAG 🏷️

#911 lone star fic #marjan marwani #tarlos fanfic #tarlos fic #tk strand x carlos reyes #wip wednesday

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owned412 · 30 days

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I sat there in quiet contemplation. The prayer was over and the others were all moving and whispering amongst themselves, or making their way to the door. I sat there with my eyes closed and just focused on my connection with heaven, as much as that was at least. I tried to ignore the sound of the soft feet moving around me, not to try and take a peak as they passed. I had taken the shahada to connect to god, to be a good Muslim, not to lust after my fellow brothers. Not that that was easy, the Masjid in question was a mixed population, Maghrebi, arab, and even a few persians, and all of them were really something. I had caught myself a few times glancing at the bare feet of the man in front of me in prayer, soles angled perfectly only a few feet in front of me. I always restrained myself though, no one knew of my past sexual proclivities and only a few knew I was gay at all. I had left those days behind me, the days of prostration and yearning for every little abuse from any man.

I had just managed to properly center myself a little when I heard more feet approach me, in fact get close enough I could hear his presence over me. I opened my downcast eyes and saw his foot right in my field of view. I swallowed and went to look up only to be face and face with his dick. Not really his dick, the thaub solved that problem, but where it would be. I pulled my eyes away and looked up and saw Ajmal looking down on me bemusedly.

“You don’t need to leave last every time he said,” smiling warmly and I laughed, embarrassed.

“Sorry,” I said, “just have a lot on my mind.” He rolled his eyes, in a teasing but friendly manner, and offered his hand to me, “There are other ways of clearing ones thoughts.” I took the hand and he pulled me up to my feet, and it was mostly him, right into his chest. His chest was….strong, evocatively so. I laughed again uncomfortably and took a slight step back, ignoring my dick twitching.

“Now,” He said, casually assertively, “You have the stuff to change?” I gave him a blank look and he gave me a exasperated look, “Come on Adam, you don’t remember your promise? We were gonna run together.” I shook my head and responded, “I remember you suggesting that and I said no, I’m not much of a runner.” He looked at me, again with an amused expression, and traced his right knuckles over my chest and down. The touch was not sexual, not grasping or even that assertive, but that didn’t matter. I held back a shudder and let him have his fun.

“You have a good body, but you need to work out more,” He said, removing his hand but appraising me with his intense dark eyes. Those eyes were his best attribute, more then the muscles, his tight forearms or hair. They were friendly but held the thundering potential of the roaring hurricane. Whenever he looked at me part of me just wished that he would body slam me and fuck me into submission but I always suppressed the thoughts. I would not shamelessly sexualize my brothers.

He looked me in the eyes and mockingly pleaded, “Come on Adam, I don’t wanna run alone and I bet you could keep up.” I sighed and relented, “fine Ajmal, but I don’t have my stuff,” gesturing to my own thaub and continuing, “I can’t exactly run in these.” He gave a friendly shrug and said, “Come back to my place, I got stuff that will fit ya.” The offer was a kind one, not at all sexual, so I felt like I should refuse. I was very likely one of the first gay men the masjid had dealt with and I didn’t wanna screw it up, I couldn’t be another Nazim. But I couldn’t refuse, any refusal would be would be seen an potentially the same thing. Ajmal had been good to me, been welcoming and accepting when many others hadn’t. I silently nodded and he grinned and trapped me in a headlock, I could just smell his pits.

“then lets go Adam!!” He half-called out and started walking, still dragging me a little. He let me go to grab all my things and slip my shoes on then tossed me his bag and winked at me.

“I’m driving,” he said and felt my self quiver again slightly and just took the bag. We both got in the car and started the drive to Ajmal’s place. We sat in silence and I watched the streets pass by, it was that or watch his flex around the wheel of the car. I was content to sit in silence but Ajmal broke the silence, “So have you told anyone else?” I froze slightly and he looked at him, with him returning a befuddled look.

“Wh…what?” I asked and he clarified, “You’re gay.” As he said this he maneuvered in his chair and I saw the slightest outline of a dick so I locked my eyes onto his.

“Ugh….no I haven’t.” He nodded and said, “I understand, I imagine it would be difficult. I appreciate you telling me though.” I hadn’t meant to tell him. He had cornered me on my first regular day at the masjid and had invited me to get coffee. We had talked on a few issues, politics, religion, other nonsense, and eventually he had dropped that the imam’s kid was gay. I had seen him a few times but we had never talked, he always seemed so nervous. When Ajmal had mentioned that Nazim might be kicked out of home something came over me and I confessed. Not to wishing Ajmal would choke me, but that I was gay too. Ajmal had accepted me and seemed remorseful about Nazim. Nazim later disappeared and I never heard anything about why, but I didn’t really need to.

“The reason I mention it is,” started Ajmal, “is that….someone….mentioned what happened with Nazim.” I looked at him quickly, very curious but knowing I was gonna regret it.

“don’t worry so much,” said Ajmal, “the story is more complicated then that. Apparently Nazim wasn’t just a homo, he was like a….well a fag.” I restrained the urge to protest the word but Ajmal caught on to my concern, “Sorry sorry sorry, I didn’t mean to offend. What I meant was Nazim wasn’t a normal gay guy.” He stopped and thought about his next words then continued, “Ya know, you’re gay and you find me attractive,” when I remained silent he grinned and flexed his left arm at me. I averted my eyes and he laughed, “It’s alright, I get it I’m a good looking guy.” He moved the topic along, adopting a conspiratorial tone, “Nazim didn’t just find men attractive, he wanted more. The darkest fuckin shit you ever heard. Not just, ya know, suckin dick and all that, he wanted to be choked, fuckin hit, treated bad….like a faggot ya know.” I wanted to die, Ajmal just sitting there reciting my own sexual tastes back to me, but I responded, “Yeah…that’s pretty weird.”

Ajmal cackled and said, “Yeah, I’d fuckin say so. Coming to a house of god to ogle the men, it’s fuckin gross. Apparently on of the brothers took him up on the deal. Really rode him like a bitch, in the masjid no less, and then told the imam about him. I mean I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same but still…it’s pretty fucked up.” I could only thank god for the tight underwear and loose clothes hiding my erection, being confronted by all my darkest fantasies in reality was unpleasant.

“Anyways,” mused Ajmal, “I wouldn’t worry about the other guys, you’re not here to do that gross shit. I would just relax.” I tried to do that, because he was right. I was not at the masjid to get fagged out, to get railed on the carpet and beg to be used up. That image got stuck in my head a little to long and was only released when I saw the familiar house pulling up, with another car in front. I looked at Ajmal who was also looking at the car with a strange expression.

As we pulled in, a figure exited the car and leaned against it, lighting a cigarette casually. Ajmal exited the car to meet the figure and I followed him, but letting him do all the talking.

“Raul, what are you doing here?” He asked, his expression strange. His wolf-like charm had faded and, while still having that wolfish character, was replaced with something more complicated. Raul took another drag and sauntered over. He was sexy, darker skin with curly black hair and very tight clothes. Judging by the bulge he was packin as well.

“Scott asked me to swing by,” said Raul innocently, “He was worried about what happened yesterday.” Ajmal glared at Raul and, looking at me watching them, took a deep breath, “I am fine, I crossed the line and I told I am sorry.” Raul moved in closer, his eyes appraising me in a very intimate way, “Scott's not upset, Ajmal he is worried that you are. He wanted to make sure you two were cool.”

Ajmal shook his head in annoyance and said, “I am not mad, I meant what I said before, Raul.”

Raul smiled warmly and, his eyes just fully objectifying me, said, “good, now…want me to come in. Scott doesn’t need me back for a bit. Said he was busy and I could…hang out.”

Ajmal breathed out his nose, exercising some impulse, and said, “thank You Raul but I have a guest. Maybe another time.”

Raul gave me a curious look and then shrugged, “okay Ajmal, see you later,” then eyeing me again and continuing, “have fun with your friend.” Then he turned around and tossed the mostly dead cigarette out on Ajmal’s lawn, heading back to his car. Ajmal said nothing until Raul drove off, following that car with a look of almost desire. However once the car disappeared his old jovial nature kicked in and grinned at me, “I think he liked you.” I blushed and looked at him confused.

“Raul is Scott’s…….boyfriend kind of. We got into a bit of a fight. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“I didn’t know you knew any other gay people,” I said and he laughed. “Raul’s always wanted me, and he likes it rough,” he said and turned to the house, elaborating no more. I followed him in and he immediately took off his thaub, tossing it aside onto the couch. Under it he was only wearing some underwear and I immediately looked away. He laughed and flexed, “It’s alright Adam, you can look.” I did and he was beautiful, I focused on those strong pecs so I didn’t look at his cock.

“I’ll be right back with some running clothes,” he said and trotted up the stairs. I watched him go up and spied a curious red mark across his back, like a long object had collided with his back going beneath his underwear. When he returned he tossed some running clothes at me. He was also dressed, but that didn’t say much. He wore tight little running shorts and a baggy tank-top. I hurriedly put on the clothes to not ogle him more, finding that they were as skimpy as the ones he had. Now thoroughly in it, I put on the clothes and shoes he offered me and then looked at myself in the nearby mirror, looking like a faggot trying to get fucked mid run. He stepped behind me and looked as well,

“Don’t look so uncomfortable, you look good. If I was gay I would fuck ya here and now.” He grabbed my ass and squeezed, “got a nice body friend, you should show it off.” I watched with horror as my dick grew in the tight little shorts and tried to ignore it and move away from the mirror. He held onto my shoulders, stopping me from moving, and whispered into me ear, “it’s okay to find me attractive, I think it’s funny honestly.” Thoroughly confused and trying not to arch my ass for another spank, I just sighed and said, “Lets go okay.”

The run was easy enough. That’s not to say it was physically easy, I hated running. But the running gave me something to focus on that wasn’t Ajmal. As we ran though, halfway through the mile run, it did seem to get easier though. Eventually the pain in my thighs seemed to move aside and my eyes just followed Ajmal. I was behind him and as he ran his ass would jiggle and those thick muscular thighs would tighten and release. The movement was almost…hypnotic, I just ran along with the pace of those legs and it all seemed so easy. The spell only broke when we got back to his place, allowing me to look anywhere else but those glistening muscles. He stopped by the front door, waiting for me to arrive, and he grinned as I stopped too, panting and leaning against the wall of the house.

“You’re not bad Adam, I was worried you might not keep up,” He said, giving that wolfish grin again. I couldn’t really speak, just panted and leaned. He got closer to me and continued, “wanna know how you know it was a real workout?” I nodded vaguely and his lifted his arm, revealing his pit and putting it against my face. The feeling was immediate and intense, my hips spasmed and I couldn’t hold back my moan. That shock plus the general exhaustion caused me to fall to my knees, right in front of the outline of that cock. He laughed again and then said, “that’s the other way I guess,” and he pushed that outline into my nose. I breathed in that smell and gave a protracted whimper, it was all I could do to resist licking. For a moment I saw a look in his eyes, like a predator about to close in. He then pulled off me and cackled, “sorry man, it’s just funny having a gay friend.” He then knelt and grabbed under my shoulders and picked me, planting me on my still-unbalanced feet. “lets to get a seat,” he said and unlocked the door.

I held my composure together, his masculine pheromones swirling in my brain, and followed him, falling on the couch and panting. He took off his shirt and then his shoes, placing the pair on the table in front of me. “I’m gonna go shower,” he said and made his way up the stairs. Once I heard him walk out of sight I put my hand over the raging cock and squeezed. I wasn’t sure I could take any more of his teasing without becoming another Nazim. I heard he sound of the shower turn on in some distant room and tried to relax, squeezing my desperate cock.

That was when the smell of the shoes caught my attention. I knew I shouldn’t, that it was stupid and dangerous. But the pit and cock smell seemed to swirl in my brain like a hypnotic olfactory spiral and I obeyed them. I crept off the couch, got on my hands and knees, and pushed my face into those shoes. The smell was divine, this time I didn’t resist the urge to hump the air. All this time with Ajmal I had fought the urge to break but now that he was gone I couldn’t fight it anymore. I breathed and breathed, moans escaping with each exhale. It was a moment of pure peace and then the hand came down and grabbed my neck.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Ajmal’s voice growled into my ear, deep and dark and angry. I panicked and tried to move but he just pushed me harder into the shoe.

“Did you think I didn’t know?” He growled, “did you think all those times you slobbered over my feet I didn’t see?” The more I fought him the more I failed and the more I breathed into his shoes. Through my fear something came over and I stopped fighting, I arched my pussy up and breathed in deep.

“You fuckin faggots come into my masjid and then pretend to to be normal,” the voice said, all tone of joviality gone.” I felt a hand push under my little shorts and probe my hole, I moaned into the shoe.

“There was something I forgot to mention faggot,” the voice said, increasing the probing of my pussy. I moaned louder, all those moans and all that desire I had hidden rolling out. “I fucked Nazim, I broke in Nazim, and I told his dad, faggot.” My desire was cut in by fear but Ajmal just pushed the finger fully into my hole and the fear just felt good.

“Nazim was a little faggot, not good enough for me,” he voice continued, “I tossed his ass on the street when I was done, but you I have another idea.” I pulled out his finger and grabbed me by the back of the hair and yanked me off the shoe. I looked at him, drunk on his pheromones, and continued, “You’re gonna be my faggot, you’re gonna do anything I want or I’ll tell everyone at the Masjid that you’re just like Nazim.” I was scared, but that didn’t matter, His eyes seemed to be bearing not just on me but into me. I remained silent and just nodded to Him and he smirked. He caressed the back of my neck, almost gently, and put two fingers to my mouth. I let them in and sucked, lovingly and obediently.

“That’s good faggot,” he crooned, “when I’m done with you, you wont just love me, you’ll need me.” With that he pushed me down onto the ground and settled on the couch, putting his arms up and relaxing like a king. I didn’t move, just stared at him with desire and fear. He gave me a disgusted look and barked a single order, “Sujud faggot!! kiss your Master’s feet faggot.” I prostrated my self and crawled to his feet, first breathing in the smell of Master’s god feet and then kissing them. It was another beautiful moment of weakness and then Master’s foot hooked under my chin, pushing me up to my hands and knees and then pressing his sole into my face.

The impact and sensory experience hit me like a truck and then Master’s voice echoed into my ears.

“Password for your phone, Faggot.” I didn’t even hesitate, methodically drooling out the 4 number combination in between the smell of Masters foot. After a moment of this Master spoke again, “Good new faggot, you have the next 3 days off, and you’ll be spending them here.” I traced my tongue up Master’s foot and groaned helplessly, lost for words.

“also faggot, 200 dollars for my standard enslavement fee, actually lets make that 250 for the initial cock and pit samples.” I felt my body convulse at the sound of getting fag-mugged by Master and managed to drone out a moaning, “Thank You Master.” the foot retracted and then kicked me in the face, causing me to crumple. When I pushed myself back up, I found Master standing over me, Cock out and upright. I gazed at him, in fear and devotion, and he said, “I will fuck you, I will beat you, I will break you, and then lock you up. By the time you leave here, I’ll have your bank account, house keys and car keys, and your fucking soul.” He then slapped me, once on the left and once on the right. I focused my bleary, cock drunk stare into those dark cold eyes and said, “Yes Master.”

#alpha master #faggot humiliation #forced faggot #arab master #the carpet #fagbreaker

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queerbrownvegan · 6 months

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Ecologies of collapse in Palestine 🇵🇸

I don’t think we can solve the climate crisis if we can’t even decide whether or not Palestinians are going through a genocide.

I’m afraid the [dominant] environmental movement has failed to clearly define what it means to liberate the world from an oppressive system. Removing a part of the apparatus is not systemic change.

People have turned their backs on the United Nations 🇺🇳 for trying to call attention to the several human rights violations happening and that Israel’s government must be held accountable. Brazil 🇧🇷 government has named the incident one of the world's most terrible war crimes. Turkey 🇹🇷 has filed a lawsuit in international courts to hold the war criminal accountable. France 🇫🇷 has called for a ceasefire. None of these governments are innocent either, but it begs the question, why can't our governments take a stance against genocide?

Despite the rise of Islamophobia and antisemitism, we must continue to fight alongside our Muslim & Jewish communities, calling for an end to genocide. Critiquing an oppressive government should not be seen as antisemitic. Consuming ourselves to victimhood and weaponizing tears over the bloodshed of bodies blown up is a tool of the oppressor. A ceasefire includes the return of hostages. Validation of the count of death in Israelíes is also recognized. I don’t think many of the people asking for Free Palestine are not saying that both sides can’t grieve, but when it comes to weaponizing grief and tears to prohibit critiquing of a government, that is the issue. Media platforms are heavily censoring accounts while also perpetuating misinformation. When it comes to holding the government accountable, it seems that it can never be the case because one’s country is purely ethical and just does not exist where the majority of oppressive governments have conducted genocide, violence, and displacement under business.

Many of you were never on the same page with liberating the world nor my work. Many of you saw Indigenous communities as museums for your curiosity and inspiration for your spiritual journeys to repackage to people who lack depth in their relationship with the land. Many of you committed to Black Lives Matter because you extracted from Black culture for your benefit and recognized you weren’t as racist as your neighbor or friend. Many of you committed to LGBTQ+ movements only to know that your rainbow started in the US and ended in the US, but anything deemed othering is unattractive. Many of you became feminist under the guise of equality but for only those who looked like you.

But may we also have grace for those who are scared to speak up because their employers, friends, or opportunities are at the line, which could further cause them to be deprived in an economic system where people choose their ability to live and die. I’m not angry at you, nor do I know your situation, but I know my situation has allowed me to say I’ve already lost things I thought I wanted, but I’m still alive. Isn’t being alive the most sacred thing to ourselves that we don’t wish to be taken? It wasn’t a billionaire, corporation, or institution that kept me grounded and alive. It was my community that made sure I survived.

Remember, we can solve the climate crisis by bringing awareness to the horrors unfolding in Gaza.

#queerbrownvegan #social justice #environmental justice #intersectional environemntalist #intersectional environmentalism #free palestine #free gaza #gaza genocide #palestine genocide #climate crisis #activism #ecocide #climate change #environmentalism #sustainability

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play-rough · 11 days

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Hello there!

I’m not really sure how to start this, but I’ve been in a bit of a sad mood. A few days ago, some drunk scumbags cursed me out in the street because I’m a practicing Muslim. So, I’ve just been sad; so to cheer myself up I’ve been thinking about the baby Otter. And, if it’s okay, I wanted to share some of my thoughts.

So, this one is a little sad, but I hope this is okay.

I can imagine Dazai forcibly regressing while he’s in hiding, because he’s just so sad and going through withdrawal of his suppressants. He’s curled up into a ball on a cheap motel mattress, hugging his knees to avoid having more body parts than necessary touch the scratchy sheets. His nose is red, fresh tears paint his face, and there’s dried snot everywhere. He’s hugging a bunched up towel, and trying to pretend it’s Fishie giving him a hug.

He needs Chuuya so badly; but Dazai is bad. He left without saying Bye-bye, and that wasn’t kind. He knew Chibi hated when he just left without a word. He’s a bad baby.

He doesn’t deserve to be Chibi’s baby.

Without thinking, he subconsciously dials Chibi’s number off of his most recent burner phone. He just listens to the phone ringing, and starts to drift off; but, then he hears it.

“Hello,” the sound of his Chibi’s voice wakes him from his trance. He rises up, and shouts out a greeting.

“This is Nakahara Chuuya, I’m unable to take your call, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.” With that, Dazai breaks down into sobs. Chibi always answered his calls, but Dazai should’ve known better. He’s not Chibi’s baby anymore. He left, and Chuuya hates him.

He sobs out apology after apology, begging Chuuya to understand why he left, and to please forgive him. Eventually, he reaches a limit to how long of a message he can leave, and Dazai drifts off into a painful slumber. When he wakes up, he doesn’t remember much of the night before. He bleaches the motel room, leaves through a window, and chucks his burner phone into a random trash can.

Unbeknownst to him, as he sits on the subway taking him away from Kobe. A very hungover Chuuya wakes up, who stayed out way to late drinking with a new recruit named Tachihara. As he slowly wakes up, and absently drinks a coffee, he checks his phone. Nothing really stands out, except for a voicemail from an unknown number. Chuuya usually just deletes those without listening, but he felt a tug to listen to it anyway.

“Ch-ib-i, it’s me,” even though it had been a year, and the voice is sob filled, Chuuya would always recognize his Baby’s voice.

Chuuya’s heart shatters as he listens to Dazai self deprecate, as he says sorry for not saying Bye-bye to Chibi and Fishie. Calling himself a bad baby, but he was trying to be good. Saying he promised Oda he would be good, and that’s why he had to leave. He sobbed and sobbed, and said how much he missed Chuu and Fishie.

Dazai’s voice his cut off as the voicemail limit has been reached. Chuuya immediately tries calling Dazai back, but the lines been disconnected. Anger fills him, as he chucks his coffee against the wall using tainted. Arahabaki is screaming in his head, that Chuuya must kill those who made their Baby cry.

Chuuya had failed. His Baby had needed him, and Chuuya didn’t pick up the call. He had spent a year thinking that Dazai didn’t want him anymore, and he felt like such an idiot for believing that. Well, no more. Chuuya was going to find his Baby no matter what. He wouldn’t fail again.

Um, I didn’t mean to basically write a whole one shot, and I’m sorry if I’m being a bother. You’re series just brings me so much joy.

I hope you’re having a wonderful day,

-Rosie 🌹

Rosie I am so sorry that happened to you 🩷 thank you so much for sharing this, it was delightful and deliciously angsty 🥺 i hope your day gets better, you’re beautiful and kind and important and people care about you 🩷🩷 fuck those drunk losers

Again this is so beautiful and I really appreciate you sending it my way 🩷

#dazai osamu #nakahara chuuya #sfw agere #skk #💌

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