#religious guilt tw

[proudfreakmetarusonniku]

Theory: Each of the final bosses in Isaac represents a stage of grief.

Satan/The Lamb represents denial. As the first path added (though not the first finished), it’s the first step his mind takes on processing his own impending death and grieving it. It continues with the false narrative Isaac has created in his own head, of being demonic, and completes it. He overthrows his masters, and defeats the demonic part of himself. It’s a comforting lie, that he uses to avoid processing what’s happening. Mega Satan also ties into this, despite being also accessible on the Polaroid path- it’s Isaac either falling deeper into his delusions or regressing into them, and it represents Isaac's internal narrative becoming completely separate from reality- Satan is already a figure Isaac has been taught was real, and the Lamb is himself as the Antichrist, but Mega Satan is a ridiculous concept entirely to look cool. Isaac's no longer even slightly rooted in reality at that point- simply making up comforting delusions that are based off games he used to play.

Isaac/Blue Baby represents sadness. The second final path added, despite being the first finished, this represents Isaac's sadness and fear upon finally being able to comprehend his death. The Cathedral is something beautiful, a monument to a faith he still holds dear despite everything, and the Chest is both literally where he'll die and also clearly something he treasured in life, something he's leaving behind. The bosses here are not only happier versions of himself- representing Isaac losing any sense of happiness and peace at his own death and falling into despair- but also what he’s losing out on- his own afterlife. Isaac and Blue Baby are angels, while Isaac will forever be damned due to his own suicide. He feels hopeless melancholy, and even the happy memories of what once was cannot bring him joy.

Hush/Delirium represent bargaining. Isaac at this point desperately wants to live, and thinks if he can fight off the weakness from oxygen deprivation and the delirium from his brain shutting down, if he just is able to do that, he can escape, and everything will be happy, and he can live. Hush is a representation of his own suffocation- both being literally blue from oxygen deprivation like Blue Baby, but also being gasping for breath. Delirium is, of course, the intense hallucinations and delusions from his oxygen deprivation. Isaac tries his best to fight through them. But it’s already too late- by this point, he’s actively dying, he’s far too weak to be able to free himself. The symptoms are too severe to be overcome, and all he can manage is a glimpse of clarity, a memory of his life beforehand, before he loses all touch with reality again.

Mother represents anger. Isaac, now given up on any chance of escape, is angry- angry at himself for attempting suicide, angry at his father for leaving, but more than anything angry at his mother. She's the one who made him feel like he had to do this! She's why he's dying! In his addled state, he struggles to distinguish between the reality of his situation, the slow and painful suffocation in his toy box, and his fantasy, where his mother is trying to kill him. He fights to get a real weapon, puts together the fragments of the knife, but even after killing his mother and her heart again, he is not satisfied. In the corpse, he mindlessly attacks anything that reminds him of her, his mind conjuring a world entirely defined by her decaying body, and in the end, he kills her again. But no matter how many times he kills his mother, he is not satisfied. His anger has no point, no justification. He is trapped, and he cannot find peace through his imagination.

Finally, Dogma/The Beast represent acceptance. Instead of Isaac following the path of his delusions, he instead desperately fights for the memories that flicker in and out of his brain, to comprehend them. He thinks about his father, and how he left, and the arguments his parents had. He confronts those harsh truths- that his mother is not a monster, but a person. That his father is not a saint, but a person too. That he was never the problem- that his death is pointless, yes, but also that he is not sinful, that he is loved. And then, he remembers his home. His room, the halls, the closet in which he was locked in, the living room. Here, as his memories flash before his eyes as he's near death, he realises he's not at fault for his own abuse, but also that his mother was not acting purely out of evil and spite. He remembers the hateful words he heard on the Christian broadcasts she would watch, and the dogma that lead them both astray, and he fights it, dismantling the hateful preaching but holding onto the things that bring him comfort. He's able to, finally, defeat what remains of his delusions, the beastly and tainted ideas of his mother and Christianity, and he finally passes away at peace, knowing he was loved. Whether the final cutscene is a comforting illusion or his afterlife, Isaac dies knowing that he is loved and that he is worth something. For the first time in his life, Isaac is able to accept that he was never at fault for anything that happened to him, and at the very least he is able to die happy, remembering his games with his father and his mothers love long ago and Guppy. It’s incredibly bittersweet, but Isaac was dead from the moment he entered that chest. This is the best ending the game could ever realistically have.

Was any of this intended? Oh, almost certainly not. But I think way too much about the lore of this video game and you have to think about something when you spend twenty minutes minmaxing in Sheol I guess.

#isaac #the binding of isaac #tboi #isaac moriah #abuse tw #suicide tw #child death tw #self hatred tw #religious trauma tw #religious guilt tw #religious delusions tw

[cliffburton]

don't reblog etc etc

iron maiden - the reincarnation of benjamin breeg / metallica [cliff burton] - to live is to die

#i will update it w image descriptions and the rest of the lyrics i wanna put hold on #religious themes tw #religious guilt tw

[jamieloveslearning]

Had therapy today. Lots of things to realise.

About the anger I feel over being neurodivergent: I need more help than I allow myself to take and sometimes more than i have access to. (Or even more than I'm willing to reach out for.) When I'm talking about my neurodivergence, I'm not "exaggerating" or "trying to be quirky and different". (That's one of those guilt trip lies that my brain tries to come up with and it seeps through my subconscious undetected.) I'm just stating my needs. I have needs. This is not my fault.

About the dreams: my therapist says they're all connected with a common theme, a struggle against identity and allowing myself to be my identity. There are stages of growth and separation that children go through with the relationship with their parents. My mother never allowed me past the toddler stage. Again, this is not my fault.

She said this is what's called "meshing", I beleive. Where ones identity hasn't fully detached from their parents. In my case, I feel responsible for my mother's feelings, and dependent on her for validation and direction. Since I am psychologically meshed with her, if she is dissapointed in me, I am dissapointed in me. There's a little her in my head.

On top of that, I essentially viewed her as "god". I searched for "god" and when there wasn't proof, I looked to leaders that could tell me what "he" was saying. (Cause obviously I just have something missing, something wrong and sinful inherently about me that prevents me from acsessing god. Obviously I had to rely on other, complete, holy people to tell me what to do, right? /s) But it was just the people's own directions of how to live my life. Guess who has been the authority figure around me for 99% of my life? Mom. Of course she's the ingrained "replacement for god".

But here's the thing: I didn't "turn out" to be something sinful in the eyes of my mother. Her prejudices got in the path of my identity.

She isn't the authority of my identity, my life, here. I am.

#online diary #codependency tw #internalised ableism #internalised ablisim tw #religious trauma tw #tw religious trauma #religious guilt tw

[exclusivelyhomosexual]

#talk about actually giving a child a guilt complex #exvangelical #crt #make it make sense #religious trauma #religious trauma tw

[gendynooch]

I used to volunteer for a Christian homeless outreach program. Giving out food donations, gently used clothes, prepping and giving out hot meals, such and such. The leader would also preach to the people waiting in lines for their next meal, before they were allowed to get it. Some people would come later when the sermons were basically over. And, I remember him essentially shaming them for it, bc how could you just come for your physical nourishment and not your spiritual nourishment?

That’s manipulation. That’s guilt tripping. No one should be forced to listen to your drawn out babble about God when they and their children are starving.

#tw religion #tw religious trauma #tw religious guilt #religious trauma #exvangelical #ex christian

[groverapologist]

leo's trauma is not discussed enough.

his mother dying and him thinking it was his fault was quite literally the tip of the iceberg when you remember everything else that happened to him. his "caretaker" (hera in disguise) would often put him in danger to test him and his abilities to become a hero. he was disowned by his family who called him the devil (and leo was most probably raised catholic, or at least raised around catholic people). when the fire occured and his mother passed, people immediately jumped to blame him and said they knew something was off about him. he ran away from five foster homes from age 7-15, and at some point in he had an abusive foster mother. he was constantly bullied and had to learn how to appease bullies so as to not get targetted. he was homeless for weeks after running away from foster homes, but that was more appealing than staying at the foster homes.

all of this even before the books even started. all of this occured age 2-15.

leo went through so much.

#tw abuse mention #tw trauma #heroes of olympus #pjo #hoo #leo valdez #i want to hug him #tw religious guilt #all of this is canon

[dirtytransmasc]

Alicent and Aegon are so Virgin Mary and Jesus coded, in a sick and twisted way that it barely makes sense, but at the same time just... does.

a mother and her child born damned from the start, yet she loved him to her core, accepting her fate, accepting she would lose him and then herself.

she carried him, birthed him, raised him, loved him, devoted her very being to him... she lost him, grieved him, lost her mind in his absence. the gods her only respite, yet, when she needed them most, when she needed them to protect her son, her baby, her reason for being, where were they?

#the catholic guilt and angst is getting to me #the mommy issues I used to project on The Mother Mary are now being projected onto Alicent #Aegon and Jesus are literally the same person but also not and they parallel one another perfectly but its also an insult to say they do #two side of the same coin??? #two sons damned by their fathers two mothers damned by their sons both only having each other #maybe #I don't know anymore #it just feels right in my gut #and I'm so tired and just feeling... things... and this post was born #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #alicent hightower #pro alicent hightower #pro team green #hotd #house of the dragon #tw religion #tw religious themes #tw religious imagery

[whats-a-human]

shoutout to everyone forced to go to church, church events and/or interacting with people you don't want to.

you are not "failing to stand up for yourself" if you can't say no. I know how terrible it is to balance the harm of going to church, etc, and the backlash if you don't.

you are not a failure if you are an adult living with a toxic family. Not at 18, not at 19, nor 20, 25, 30, 35, 40, 45, 50 + !!

you are not a failure if you are an adult living on your own but can't go non-contact yet

you are not a failure if you are a minor and are not as "brave" as you wished to be, or believe you won't be able to move out at 18

you are not a failure if you moved out and had to go back. No matter the reason!

whatever your situation is

you are not a failure

don't victim-blame yourself

❤

#ex fundamentalist #ex evangelical #ex fundie #ex catholic #ex christian #exvangelical #religious guilt #religious trauma #religion tw #tw religion #tw christianity #positivity

[your-mom-friend]

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

[proudfreakmetarusonniku]

Whumptober Day 7: Restrained and Forced Feeding

Prime au. Tommy tries to starve himself in a fit of hopelessness after Dream kidnaps him, believing him to be a Prime in Earthly form- but Dream will not let the target of his worship fade so easily. Warnings for kidnapping, imprisonment, abuse, eating disorders, forced feeding, restraints, drugging, HEAVY religious themes, religious guilt, religious delusions, attempted suicide, self-harm, and self-loathing

ao3 link

—— Tommy was a little unnerved at how easily he’d grown used to hunger pangs.

Eating started feeling wrong sometime in Exile. He felt he didn’t deserve food, and even though he denied it at the time, the little bit of control throwing out most of the meagre rations he was given and vomiting up the rest was intoxicating, addicting even, when he had no other autonomy in his life. Even after, it was hard not to feel shame when he binged, so he went through periods of eating until he was sick, then eating a few snacks in a whole week and usually puking those out anyway because of the guilt.

It wasn’t like he hated his body or anything. Well, he did, but not because he thought he weighed too much or whatever. He didn’t even throw up on purpose; it wasn’t like he was trying to do anything stupid, he just felt so unwell and guilty whenever he could taste something nice on his lips, and it came out of him onto the floor. He wasn’t even sure what that was called. Being a pussy, he guessed.

Now, though, he wasn’t avoiding food just because it made him sick. No, it was the only way he had to die.

The IV drip in his arm provided something to stop dehydration- he’d tried there- along with the weird fuzzy, warm, sleepy feeling it forced him into, making him sleep most of the day and struggle to think very fast. His arms and legs were kept bound by velvet-lined shackles, made out of something lightweight and weirdly comfortable but with just enough slack to be able to eat or do something like knit but certainly not to try and escape, or even try and find something to shove through his throat until he stopped breathing.

Starvation was a painful, slow way to die, but it was a way to die. And dying would be better than participating in this blasphemous show any longer.

The robes Tommy was dressed in were the sacred purple, holy symbols embroidered on that no man should wear, like a twisted heretical display. Bells were hung up on every inch of free space in the room, ringing in prayer to Primes that would not be in such an unholy place. Some were even tied to Tommy’s chains and braided in his hair, making the slightest movement a twisted, arrogant prayer to himself. Every part of the room was carved of marble and oak, from the oversized bed to the ornate throne Tommy spent most of the day chained to, like a mocking parody of a King or a God.

It was disgusting. A nightmarish display of sin, a heretics toybox, and one Tommy had been made an unwilling participant in. The mockery of the Primes he was trapped in was worse than any other fate he could imagine- Limbo, Exile, eternal fucking torture. At least that didn’t spit in the face of the Primes and the Gods that Tommy had devoted his life to, took such solace in.

If he pretended the hunger pangs were his repentance for being forced to sin so, they were almost pleasant. Almost forgiveness.

He’d almost fallen asleep, exhausted from whatever sedative was being pumped through him and the physical stress of not eating for… Prime, he didn’t even know the time anymore. Sleep was one of Tommy's few escapes from his heretical prison, so he welcomed it whenever it overtook him. Unfortunately, the opening of the heavy iron door, threatening the worst hours of the day, woke him up with a start, dread pooling in his stomach.

Dream refused to look him in the eyes as he entered, head bowed in sinful reverence. Like this was a church, not a torture chamber. Under his breath, he whispered prayers for forgiveness, shifting between English and what Tommy recognised from talking to Ranboo as Ender erratically.

There were more scars on his skin, more bloodied bandages. Tommy frowned, seeing that. Dream insisted on “punishing” himself whenever he displeased Tommy, which was often considering the blasphemous hell he’d forced him into, his insistence that he was somehow a Prime and not a humble man. And, yeah, Dream might be a torturer and a heretic, but Tommy knew how it felt to tear lines in your skin. He wouldn’t wish that on anyone, even Dream.

“My Prime.” Tommy jumped out of his skin as Dream directly acknowledged him- or rather, what he thought him to be. “Why have you not been eating? Has what I’ve made been unfit?”

“I’m not hungry,” Tommy mumbled.

“I see. You’re not used to eating with your physical form.” Dream said that like it made sense and wasn’t the most absolutely insane bullshit imaginable. “I know you’ve forgotten you used to be a Prime, but this is proof you must be, see? There’s no need to be humble.”

Tommy just slumped further into his seat in defeat.

“I brought your favourites, if that helps,” Dream continued. Of course, he knew Tommy’s favourite food because he was a creepy ass stalker even before he got this weird idea into his head about Tommy being a lost Prime or whatever. “As many golden apples as you’d like.”

“I’m not hungry.” Tommy repeated, slightly louder this time.

“You’ll die if you don’t eat,” Dream said softly, like he was explaining the concept of being a living fucking being to a toddler. “And I don’t want you to be further tainted by that. I- I committed a grave sin, forcing a vessel for the Gods to experience the pain and mortality of death once. I can’t let that happen again.”

“I’m not eating anything you give me,” Tommy said, with an air of finality to it, and Dream sighed.

“Then you leave me no choice. I hate to have to do this, but…”

He trailed off, adjusting the slack of Tommy’s shackles to keep him completely immobilised. Tommy didn’t have the energy to struggle, and he mentally cursed whatever fucking potion he had hooked to him, keeping him tired and compliant. He wanted nothing more than to fight, to shout and scream and kick, but he barely had the energy to keep his eyes open. Dream said it was better than “despoiling the holiness of a pure being” or whatever, but not only was Tommy not holy in the fucking slightest, he’d have felt much less despoiled or whatever if Dream just beat him up like he used to. At least then he could be a prick about it.

With shaking hands, Dream shoved a piece of crushed golden apple into Tommy’s mouth, giving him a guilty look. Tommy spat it directly onto his stupid face, glaring. “What the fuck, man?”

“I can’t just let you starve. Tommy…” He sighed. “Please, I don’t want to have to force you.”

Tommy stuck out his tongue in defiance. Fuck no, he wasn’t going to participate in this blasphemous display. He couldn’t stop Dream’s hours of prayer, his nonsensical preaching, the lavish “gifts” he’d give, but he could refuse to eat. Maybe the Primes would shine upon him again if they saw his attempts to remain devoted.

Immediately, he regretted it, as another tiny slice of golden apple was shoved into his throat, a hand covering both his mouth and nose, forcing him to swallow the food to be allowed breath again. His weak, human, ungodly body fought for it even though Tommy wished he could just let himself suffocate. It was painful, but not just that- it was utterly humiliating. He could feel his ears heating up as he ate what must have been a whole golden apple, slice by agonising slice, tears pricking at his eyes. Thank the fucking Primes- the actual Primes- that Dream refused to look at his face. He’d hate the idea of Dream seeing him crying over petty shit.

He took deep breaths when, after agonising minutes, he had finished. The food sat horribly in his stomach, and he felt queasy and lightheaded. Worse, he felt, for the first time in his life, faithless. There was nothing to be done, no resistance, no defiance. The Primes had abandoned him, the Gods must surely be mocking him. The rest of his life- the rest of eternity, even- would be spent forced into a heretical mask, and he would never rid himself of the sin sticking to him.

He couldn’t even die to repent.

Wilbur had read Tommy a story once from an old book about a strange God, where there was a tree and an apple and the first humans. The apple had contained knowledge- on what, Tommy wasn’t sure- and upon eating it, the humans had discovered sin and therefore became sinful. He’d found it fucking stupid at the time- how could an apple give knowledge, and how would it be the humans' fault? But it made sense now. He could feel the sin of his own forbidden fruit, forced down his throat, sitting painfully in his chest, a knowledge he wished to erase forever trapped in his head. Damnation would have been a mercy.

And when Tommy looked at Dream, anger replaced with broken exhaustion, the determination hunger pangs brought him replaced with mental agony, all he could see was a snake.

#My writing #ailesswhumptober #dream smp #c!primeboys #kidnapping tw #imprisonment tw #abuse tw #eating disorders tw #Force feeding tw #Restraints tw #drugging tw #religious guilt tw #attempted suicide tw #self harm tw

[ourstaturestouchtheskies]

Moses Smashing the Tablets of the Law – Rembrandt // The Penitent Mary Magdalene – Carl Fröschl after Francesco Furini // God is a Woman – Rett Madison

#a little ✨ religious trauma ✨ for today #rembrandt #mary magdalene #francesco furini #god is a woman #god is a woman rett madison #pin up daddy #pin up daddy album #pin up daddy rett madison #rett madison #religious trauma #tw religious trauma #catholic guilt #art #art history #lyrics #lyric art

[faithdeans]

who made you stop believing in god? god did.

#hehe i feel normal :) #tw religious trauma #tw religious guilt #worm.edit

[basu-shokikita]

Possibility, a Toki from a different reality

So @dalberadiata has an AU where Toki never left the cult and, therefore, never joined Dethklok. But the call of destiny is much stronger, so he accidentally catches a glimpse of Dethklok when they're visiting Norway and pretty much instantly becomes infatuated with Skwisgaar. The interest isn't one-sided and Skwisgaar teaches Toki about the world of music...and many other things. 🎸💘

I've been wanting to do something with this AU for a while because I'm fascinated with it. So, after many talks, I decided to write the scene where Toki wears non-religious clothing for the first time. More specifically, the clothes Skwisgaar lent him. Needless to say, this is a Skwistok AU 🥰

You can also read this work here!

Hat in his hands, Toki looked at his feet. Or rather, the lack of them. Covered by the dark robe he had been wearing everyday for the past 8 years, it was like he was floating on the floor. Some kind of ghost that still managed to trip on his non-existent feet sometimes. 

His eyes kept going back to his legs, his arms, his torso, his neck even. All dutifully covered so there was nothing in sight, nothing to tell apart. Not even the top of his head was safe, protected by the hat of the same color of his robe. He was one undefined silhouette not to be confused by a mere mortal wearing vulgar clothes or showing skin. At least, that’s what his parents had taught him. 

He was always to be covered, never to expose anything. Never to embarrass or as shame the family with his indecency. Long ago were the days where he was allowed to wear a simple t-shirt and shorts for his daily duties. He was a real member of the family now and he had to behave as such.

His eyes met his own hesitant reflection, worry scattered all over his features. Should he really be doing this?

“Eh, Toki,” Skwisgaar put down the black magazine he was reading. “Don’ts..think abouts it too much.” 

Toki glanced at Skwisgaar in the reflection, and simply pursed his lips in response. He knew Skwisgaar meant well, but he had no way to understand. He had no idea what this meant for Toki, the weird guilt swelling in his gut just from his thoughts. The feeling that his parents, his dad especially, had always been right about him. That he was a failure to the family and the whole town.

He tossed the hat on his bed, as if that would make his dad’s eyes stop glaring at him from inside his mind. He wanted this. He wanted to do this.

“Okay.” He said, more to himself than Skwisgaar. “Turn around.”

“Whats?” Skwisgaar squinted like he hadn’t understood him.

“Turn around.” Toki repeated, this time gesturing with his fingers.

Skwisgaar grimaced for a good couple of seconds before throwing his palms into the air and turning around. “Talks about overkills…” He muttered under his breath but Toki still heard him.

Not that he cared, this wasn’t about Skwisgaar, it was about him and he wanted it his way. This was hard enough as it was, he didn’t need Skwisgaar’s prying eyes on top of it. Toki inhaled deeply and then closed his eyes. He counted until 10, an old trick to calm down his anxiety that he had learned from a nice old lady at the local market a couple of years ago. Then, he exhaled slowly and opened his eyes. 

His stare wasn’t all quite confident, but he had to make do. Determined, he brought his hands to his collar and started unbuttoning his robe. It had exactly 16 buttons, so he took a while to undo them. The buttons were worn out and old so they always took several pulls to get off the buttonholes. One time, as a teen, Toki suggested getting new ones but his mother gave him a glare of disappointment that made him never want to ask again.

Undone, the robe fell to the floor and Toki’s first instinct was to immediately pick it up and carefully fold it to place it on his chair. However, his fingers hesitated when he was inches away from the floor. 

He remembered the first time he refused to wear the robe, because it was uncomfortable to wear, to move in. Because he thought it was ugly, because he was tired of following this charade he had never wanted to be part of. 

His dad ordered him to take off his clothes and made him stand in the snow for hours, with nothing to cover himself with. At some point he lost consciousness, and when he recovered it, he was shivering in his bed. His dad told him, just as cold as the snow that he had been surrounded by, that it was his own doing for rejecting the Lord’s graces.

A few years later, Toki fell off the mountain while running errands. He slipped with the ice and rolled for a few meters before crashing against a rock. He managed to limp his way down, though his sides really hurt and he was pretty sure he was bleeding from his leg. When his mother saw him, the first thing she was worried about wasn’t him, but the robe. 

She made him take it off, quickly tossing the snow off it and washing it to remove Toki’s blood. Not even a glance of concern when Toki was stitching himself as she dried the robe next to the fire and carefully sewed the holes back. Toki watched his mother treat his robe with more care and gentleness than he had ever received from her. 

When, just two years ago, Toki had taken his picture with them. It was his first official family picture. During his childhood, he had only seen his parents in the framed photographs around the house, never seen himself, like he wasn’t allowed to be part of it. So, he was pretty excited, to be finally acknowledged by them. He tried really hard not to smile when the town’s photographer came to take it. 

However, when he saw the final picture, he felt nothing but cruel disappointment. Because the person in it, between his two parents, didn’t feel like him, it didn’t look like him. With the serious face and the dark robe, he looked like any other member of the sect. Nothing to tell him apart from the rest, and that’s exactly what his parents had wanted all along for him.

Toki straightened instead, not even giving a spare glance to the robe on the floor. He proceeded to unbutton his dark purple shirt, trying not to feel self-conscious when the skin of his chest began to reveal itself. He always undressed looking away from the mirror, it was a habit his parents had taught him. Dress with the mirror, undress without it. Flaunting one’s own skin, even in private, was sinful.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Skwisgaar’s head move. “I’m not ready yet!” He said, trying to inspire obedience but his voice came out squeaky instead.

Skwisgaar grumbled but he didn’t try to take a peek at least, and Toki was relieved. Undoing his pants took him way less time than the rest, and he just let it join the robe on the floor, along with the shirt. 

The clothes Skwisgaar had lent him were resting on the edge of his bed and Toki hesitated again. Was this really him? Maybe he shouldn’t mess with the order after all. Maybe he shouldn’t be tempting…he didn’t even dare to think of the word. His eyes wandered around the room, until they finally fell on Skwisgaar’s mane.

Luscious bursts of golden cascading down his shoulders, leading to that black leather jacket that had enraptured him since he first saw him and the tight black pants that followed, finishing up with the elegant black boots of the same color. He was beautiful and, just as important, he was free. And Toki desired that freedom just as much as he desired him.

He made up his mind and grabbed the shirt first before forcing it down his neck and torso. Then, he spread the pants and shoved his legs inside. It was definitely tighter than he expected, and he had expected a lot. As he struggled to make his groin somehow fit comfortably between the fabric, he realized Skwisgaar was most likely a smaller size than he was. The last touch were the black combat boots that, ironically, were a tad bit too big for his feet. 

With one last exhale, Toki took a glance at his reflection and almost didn’t recognize himself. 

His usually hidden shoulder-length brown hair was exposed and slightly disheveled from the movement. His torso was adorned by a short-sleeved black shirt with an over-designed skull and the name of a band he didn’t know in red letters. The shirt had probably been loose on Skwisgaar but on Toki it fit just right. The faux leather pants made noise whenever he moved and, just like he suspected, made his crotch stand up. Packed with combat boots, they made him look like a rockstar, even if he could still see the reluctance in his expression.

Toki tried smiling, then he tried frowning and struck a pose. He put a hand on his hip and one foot in front of the other one and feigned the smugness he often saw on Skwisgaar. It made him laugh to see this much arrogance in his face, however, and he ended up cracking up in front of the mirror. Sighing, he stood straight and contemplated himself. It was weird, and it definitely didn’t look like his usual self. But maybe it could be.

Maybe this could be him.

Also, he could finally see his feet step on the floor, how crazy was that? Toki Wartooth, finally allowed to have visible lower limbs. Absolutely insane.

“Oh, heys.” Skwisgaar said, walking up to him with a smirk. “Has I met you befores?”

“Pfft.” Toki snorted, though couldn’t erase the coy smile on his face, especially not when Skwisgaar wrapped an arm around his waist. 

“You looks good in my clothes.” He said, eyeing Toki’s body. His stare stayed for a little longer on Toki’s lower abdomen before it went up again. “Ja?”

Toki averted his gaze, chuckling lightly. “I look like you.” He said, feeling his cheeks heat up from Skwisgaar’s attention and proximity to him. 

Skwisgaar took a whiff at his collarbone. “Smells like me toos.” There was something suggestive about his eyes, and Toki could’ve sworn the room was getting hotter despite being in the middle of winter. “Heh.” Skwisgaar seemed satisfied by the reaction and pulled away. “Wants to gets out of here?”

Toki didn’t expect that, though he wasn’t against it. “Where are we going?”

“There’s ans a metals show in the towns.” Skwisgaar said, his eyes were smiling at Toki with tenderness he hadn’t seen before. “I can gets us there.” His thumb slightly brushed Toki’s chin. “Hm? What you says?”

Light blue eyes got starry from the idea alone and Toki swallowed heavily. His first metal show ever…he imagined a raging crowd and killer instrumentals. An imposing vocalist growling incomprehensible lyrics, the chaos and sweat in the atmosphere…

His heartbeat sped up from anticipation and Skwisgaar smiled at him. His first metal concert would be with Skwisgaar of all people. Toki couldn’t help thinking it was the perfect date. A nod. “Let’s do it.”

Skwisgaar’s smile turned into a grin as he laced his fingers with Toki’s and dragged them away from the room. Toki allowed himself to be led, excitement bursting through his chest. 

When he walked past the door frame he turned around and gave his old clothes one last look before leaving.

He would never look back.

#metalocalypse #toki wartooth #skwisgaar skwigelf #skwistok #my writing #tw religious guilt #tw child abuse #no beta we die like men etc #they're speaking norwegian in this btw which is why skwis is the only one making mistakes

[seraphimfall]

there’s something uniquely fucked up about the way christianity actively encourages martyrdom.

both judaism and islam do not encourage their followers to be honest about being a member of the faith if it puts their lives at risk. the latter religion even has a word for it— taqiyyah.

the christian view on martyrdom claims that followers cannot “actively seek out” dying for the faith. but, because of the rewards christianity promises to martyrs (i.e. guaranteed access to literal heaven) there is always a subliminal push towards getting yourself killed.

not to mention, it’s a core tenet of christianity to not deny christ, even if you’re at risk of harm (peter denying christ three times the night before the crucifixion, etc.)

the damage these teachings can cause vary due to circumstance. in countries like the united states, it means children being told they need to say “yes” if a shooter puts a gun to their head and asks them “are you christian?”. in countries like libya, it means oppressed people being pushed to put their lives on the line because they feel like they’re betraying the faith otherwise.

at it’s worst, christian martyrdom encourages groups of people—living under forces that are actively oppressing them— to sacrifice their lives to make a point. if they don’t, they risk the salvation of their souls.

#|| the disciple || #tw || death #ex cult #ex catholic #ex christian #exvangelical #ex religious #ex fundie #atheist #ex fundamentalist #apostasy #apostate #deconversion #ex cath #deconvert #religious trauma #religious guilt #catholic trauma #catholic guilt #losing my religion #leaving the church

[bluesolarflare]

She carries a kind of Unearned Guilt about her

#tinakitten #teanakitten #qsmp #quakitysmp #shes just like me #she has immense religious guilt and feels like she cant do good no matter what she does #this is based off a pinterest image #TRYING TO LEARN COLORING AND BACKGROUNDS #NEW YEARS RESOLUTION #also I dont really go here but the teaduo vids got my ass #bluesolarflare #eye strain #fanart #tw eye strain

[connor-sent-by-cyberlife]

What would a Demon/Priest AU be without some Catholic Guilt and Suffering (tm)? Go read @connorsjorts' fantastic Hankcon Big Bang fic "Stupid Sexy Priest"! Chapter 2 is out now!

(click for better quality)

³ᵈ ᵐᵒᵈᵉˡ ᵖᵒʳᵗ ᵇʸ ᵐᵉᵗᵒʳᶤᵃ ᵒᶰ ᵗʷᶤᵗᵗᵉʳ

#Hankcon #Hannor #Detroit Become Human #dbh #dbhbb2023 #dbh connor #dbh au #alternative universe #demon/priest au #preist!connor #tw religious themes #praying #catholic guilt #connor #timebird84 #connor-sent-by-cyberlife #daz 3d studio #3d art #digital art #3d rendering #3d render #created with daz 3d content