#(just like any cult or abuser would)
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
deservedgrace · 1 year ago
Text
The lack of understanding and empathy for cult survivors is really alienating. Because the same people that (rightfully) get upset hearing domestic violence jokes or rape jokes will make jokes about starting a cult.
301 notes · View notes
mars-ipan · 2 months ago
Note
looks at you . realllyyyyy hard.............. hey................ can u tell me more about sinner hajime bearding w. chiaki and his shame over it im thinking about it and how it affects him real bad.. r they dating married.. r they just a random fling i need to know the deets i need the DEETS!!!!!!!!! sits down
OK SO. i have NOT spent a lot of time on this so bear with me bc i’m mostly figuring this part out as i go. it’s going under a cut tho bc i know myself
ok. to start with. chiaki is one of the first people hajime meets when he moves in— they’re neighbors and in true midwestern fashion she brings him a casserole as a welcome gift. from there they become fast friends! i think, like most people in town, chiaki goes to church on sundays, but she isn’t there often outside of that. she’ll show up to events and volunteer from time to time, though! maybe she occasionally helps at sunday school. maybe it’s her that gets hajime thinking about trying to confess in the first place! she’d never pressure him into going or imply that he had any particular sins to confess, but i think hearing someone he trusts speak highly of the priest there would get him thinking.
anywho. chiaki ends up introducing hajime to a few of her friends, though he doesn’t really connect with them too deeply. they all get along nicely though, and while hajime does have his Guilt following him at all times he feels a bit better after he hangs out with her and her friends— takes his mind off of things for a bit. she has a rabbit named usami, too! she reminds hajime of some of the animals he helped raise on the farm back home. but hajime and chiaki end up basically being besties not long after hajime’s moved in. chiaki eventually develops feelings for hajime, and since she trusts him to be kind regardless of whether he reciprocates, she tells him almost right away. hajime is ecstatic— this is an opportunity! a girl, a nice girl who likes him. if there was any girl that hajime could fall in love with, it’d be her. and if he loves her, then he won’t have any of these other thoughts! he won’t be wondering what his priest looks like under the robes if he has a girlfriend— it’s perfect! so he says yes, and they begin to date.
hajime tells Father Komaeda basically immediately— he’s excited! look, Father, your teachings are working! i’m in a heterosexual relationship, this is what God wants! except…. komaeda isn’t as enthusiastic as hajime expects. supportive, absolutely, his smile as bright as ever, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. he doesn’t celebrate. he tells hajime he’s happy for him— chiaki’s a lovely girl, after all— but reminds him that resisting temptation is not a one and done battle. going out with chiaki is a step in the right direction, absolutely. however, he warns, hajime shouldn’t be too surprised if he finds himself struggling to shake away his impure thoughts. these things don’t disappear overnight. in fact, they should continue their lessons to help make sure that hajime can stay on this path to the light. hajime agrees immediately, thanking komaeda for his wisdom. still, though, he feels positive about this! having someone else to focus on will make leaving behind these unwanted lusts much easier.
except… hajime can’t make himself want her, not in that way. he tries. god, he tries. he loves chiaki, truly he does, but he doesn’t feel as fuzzy as he thinks he should when he holds her hand. kissing her feels like kissing a wall. he freezes up uncomfortably every time she tries to initiate anything further, and, saint that she is, she backs off every time without any hard feelings. he enjoys spending time with her, and holding her, but he’s not… he can’t get himself to desire her. not to mention, the impure desires haven’t gone away, not at all. they’re just as bad as they were before— in fact, they seem to slowly be getting worse. he doesn’t know what to do. hajime cares about chiaki, so much, and he doesn’t want to hurt her. she’s his best friend, and the last thing he wants to do is break her heart. plus, if he breaks up with her, then isn’t that like admitting defeat to his sins? like saying he can’t overcome them? and if he breaks up with her, what does he even say? that he can’t bring himself to be attracted to her? that he’s never been able to think of her in that way, only with… no. there’s no way he can tell her that, she’ll be disgusted. but he hates the idea of lying to her and stringing her along. his only option is to keep trying. he’ll be a better boyfriend, he’ll fall in love, he has to. she deserves someone who loves her, and maybe he can be that someone, if he just keeps trying.
hajime confesses all of this to Father Komaeda, of course, who hears all of it and simply nods. while he agrees that hajime should keep the true nature of his thoughts from her, he also subtly suggests that hajime break off the relationship if he’s not in love with her— lying is a sin, too, and true, holy love cannot be forced into being. perhaps they’re simply better off as friends?
hajime thinks about that advice, but he can’t bring himself to do it. he doesn’t want to hurt her, and he especially doesn’t want to lose her.
here’s the thing. chiaki is observant. she’s just that kind of person, she’s a good judge of emotion. she can tell that hajime seems uncomfortable showing affection to her, even if he’s trying. at first, she chalks it up to nerves, but when it doesn’t go away and almost seems to get worse, she starts to wonder what’s wrong, why he doesn’t seem to be that into her. so she looks a little closer. she notices that hajime prays a lot more often now than when he first moved in. she hears him mumble to himself when he thinks she isn’t listening, things about being wrong and having to try harder, having to be better. she knew from the start that hajime has some deep insecurities— he’s not very good at hiding it— but it’s worse than she thought. hajime’s been going to church near-daily now, and when she goes with him to mass on sundays she sees the way he watches the sermon, almost enraptured. she knows he gets along well with Father Komaeda— in fact, she’d consider them close friends. eventually, she notices things— hajime blushes with his whole face… when Father Komaeda is close to him. he sings the Father’s praises regularly, often thanking chiaki for telling him about the church so he could find his faith again. in moments of vulnerability, hajime has told her that he confesses somewhat frequently— what about, he never told her, but he assured her that he hadn’t hurt anybody so she never pressed him about it. the pieces click into place, and oh… oh, hajime.
unlike hajime, chiaki has nothing against homosexuality. she believes that god’s love comes in many forms, and so long as the people in a relationship truly love each other, then it doesn’t really matter what gender they are, does it? at first, she’s a bit hurt that hajime didn’t tell her, but she quickly reminds herself that hajime seems to deeply resent this part of himself— chances are, he’s yet to even accept it. she hurts for him, i think. she doesn’t like seeing her best friend be so cruel to himself over how he loves. she keeps up the relationship for a couple weeks, to give him the chance to tell her. when it’s clear that he doesn’t plan on telling anyone anytime soon, she decides to take matters into her own hands.
when chiaki approaches hajime and tells him she thinks they’d be better off as friends, he panics. he practically begs her to stay together, asks what he did wrong, promises he’ll do whatever it takes to keep this relationship alive, anything. chiaki looks at him softly, takes his hands in hers, and tells him that it’s okay, he hasn’t done anything wrong. she knows how much he cares about her, but there’s nothing either of them can do if they simply aren’t romantically compatible. “you can’t help who you love,” she tells him. hajime’s breath seems to stutter at that, and he pulls her into a tight hug, apologizing and sobbing gently into her shoulder. it’s a bit awkward physically, since chiaki’s pretty short in comparison to hajime, but she holds him as best she can. when he eventually pulls back, she tells him that they’ll always be best friends, okay? hajime sniffles, smiles, apologizes for breaking down like that, and agrees. best friends. he still doesn’t tell her. she doesn’t ask him to. he’ll tell her when he’s ready.
hajime tells komaeda about the breakup less than 24 hours after it happens. komaeda offers him a kind, gentle smile, clearly meant to reassure him. it reaches his eyes. “i’m sorry things didn’t work out, but i’m grateful you were able to maintain your friendship,” he says. he promises hajime that being single won’t doom him, and that he can still be freed of his sin even if he doesn’t have a nice girl to settle down with at the moment. they will continue their guidance, and one day hajime will be purified. hajime thanks his priest for all he’s done for him. Father Komaeda says he’d do anything to help someone dear see the glory of God.
14 notes · View notes
abyssalpriest · 1 year ago
Text
I think whatever I end up doing the lesson is at its core "you need to stop seeing all attempts at saying you experience something as you taking up too much space and being dangerous, and you also need to understand everyone always makes mistakes sometimes (nothing anyone thinks is fully right) and you're not lesser and amateur at channelling because you aren't fully right, and also some third thing he says there is but idk what it is"
#Bc I don't want to be an authority anyway I just want to have fun embodying my role as a channeller of his like....#And IDK I think at some point I need to understand that cycles of abuse happen when people think they're owed something and that others#deserve to go through what they went through. But I.... Am so against continuing the cult cycle that I sit here making light of#my life's work and not respecting is at all on the off chance it might negatively impact anyone in any way bc negative impact on my mind is#just immediately equalled to Cult Activity in my head. But like. Bruh. I don't even like interacting w people that much and I have the#Schizotypal Thing of not having an impulse to make new friends let alone a fuckin cult#Anyway. I need to stop catastrophising ''it would be nice to make this whole channelling Leviathan into an official thing#and test the limits of channelling and divination and whatnot'' into ''oh my god that's making myself an authority like he said not to do#and also that's just borderline making a cult that's continuing cycles of abuse'' bruh. Me occasionally doing a reading about his opinions#on something for someone else while making sure that someone understands my disclaimers that it's being translated through me/etc#Or something like that. Is not..... Declaring myself an authority on anything nor roping them in to rely on me ESPECIALLY when I always#explain how you SHOULDN'T rely on me as fact bc it's never fact like that's....#Anyway. I should've expected this now that I think about it bc he often works with spiritual consultants for human groups and shit like#And he is endlessly humbling lbfr he always tells people who are worth working with when they're being dumb/etc and I want to be#Worth working with. Anyway. God hello I Need More by Misanthrop. ''I need more I need nothing I need more I need nothing'' yeah exactly#That's already a leviathan song this context is absolutely a mood. There is a MIDDLE GROUND.#Anyway again this is years away but#I'm way too socially anxious to do anything close to the thing like this blog just Existing is already testing all my social buttons but hey#~abyssal murmurs#Diary //
6 notes · View notes
snekdood · 7 months ago
Text
bitches prolly out here psychoanalyzing my old art on behalf of my abuser to cushion their belief that im a Horrible Person but then dont see the irony when I point out the shitty things my abuser has drawn and how I see it as clear evidence of their mindset and beliefs (of what's okay to do and how to treat people) descending and pairing that along with everything else they've done and it paints a clear picture of how this person got to the point of thinking it was okay to abuse me the way they did and then the people looking for reasons to hate me through my art will act like "they're just drawings !!!" about their art. which one is it. does someones art say something about them or not? or does it only say something about them if you hate them?
#personally I think me making fun of a douchey type of dude is less bad than drawing 'rape is fun' but yknow#ig I can just weigh the gravity of how bad each thing is accurately idk#vent#'yeah but you started to identify with the douche bag character !!' well- even before i realized I wanted to be him- the plot was#already that he was going to grow out of being a dick. him and mj were going to help eachother realize their flaws and become better#to eachother and everyone else. so by the time i DID realize I wanted to be a guy I already had in mind the mature version of him#floating around but I didn't really post about it bc I didn't want to spoil anything at the time#and it took me a LONG TIME to accept that I wanted to be snake. I was trans before that. and then when I was close to accepting it#I had that whole 'lsd' thing that made me slink back into my shell bc the people I was around made me feel like I would never be a guy#so instead I figured if I couldn't be snake then the next best thing was to be *with* him and started to self ship myself w him and he#evolved even more into an even more mature version of him that by the time I got out on the other side of feeling like I couldn't#be a guy I had this more serious and mature version of him in my mind and started to accept that I wanted to be him and basically was him#and just didn't know bc that version of snake was more like me than the one I made in 2013/14#in 2013/14 I was only ever considering my comic in the context of some sort of comedy and just wanted to make a douchey character#to make fun of bc I had a lot of douchey people in my life who I felt like needed to be knocked down a peg and I figured the best way#to do that was to make an example out of them via the old version of snake and have him be an overly confident asshole whos hubris#often gets himself humbled even if hes too prideful to accept or admit it#at this point in time I didn't really see much of myself in any of my ocs. maybe a lil bit in mj and (mostly)peaches bc I didn't know it wa#ok to id with a guy... but even when I did subconsciously id with him here n there...i didnt relate to snakes douchey-ness like at all.#sometimes I jokingly act like a douche but again its for the same reason that I made snake a douche back then in the first place-#to make fun of people like that- to hopefully show them how foolish they are by me mirroring them or. alternatively. making people#laugh at me acting that way because pretending to act like a douche is easier to enjoy and laugh at than dealing w an actual douche#i'd do it with my ex-bestfriend all the time- I made snake such a dick because we'd laugh about it together and bc we wanted to make#fun of the dicks around us who lacked any self awareness and if not that any actual fuck about how lame and shitty they come off#what can I say. it's fun to mock people sometimes.#when I actually started to accept it my first pic I drew of him being obviously trans was in 2016... soo a couple months before I remet#my abuser...#which honestly explains why that whole relationship was so rough on me. I had just finally accepted myself and then this person comes#along and tries to smear me and gaslight me into thinking im Horrible for who I am. like. hello???????#my first time fully being myself was with them and their friend group and they all accepted me until their cult leader told them not to
1 note · View note
astro-g0re · 1 year ago
Text
tempted to make a story that'd cause so much discourse on this app and would probably get me doxxed if it got noticed
#i want to make “problematic” stories with shitty characters#like yes they're great for these aspects but also they're a murderer#and i want to take a character of mine and make two of them to study how people would react/treat them#my stories will probaby never get any notice but i like the idea of it causing discourse#the mc is a girl who's a fucked up burnt out people pleaser that easily gets manipulated and turns into a god against her will#i think people would find a way to find bad stuff about her like 'she didnt have to kill those guardian angels or kill that capitalist scum'#but she had to because she thought jt was the only option to and she's stuck with someone highly manipulative#and on top of it the manipulative guy is a major fucking liar who's like “yeah these guys are actually killing humans lol”#people would probably really like or hate this one character from the cult the mc kind of breaks up?#she doesnt full on destroy the cult as its existence still lingers but its still there haunting the narrative and the character#as hes constantly in some kind of hiding and terrified of any strangers as he sees everyone as some sort of threat#also i think a funny part i havent revealed to people i know is that hell does and doesn't exist at the same time because its just earth#heaven doesnt exist either#god(s) exist in the world just because they're technically just what makes up the universe/crucial things that hold up existence#but gods are really easy to kill tbh#hard to make but easy to kill#also angels are technically like fucked up lice/dandruff that tried to find a purpose and build a society#and the only way they can travel to earth is through black holes#all of this is more of background info tbh#some major themes would be about the affects of abuse/mental issues and thay family doesnt have to be blood related#also of course dog metaphors will fit some of the characters#and of course how obsession left unchecked is really unhealthy for every side sometimes#a lot of the themes are a little vent related but id rather put my soul into a story rather than make it plain and going into purity culture#edit: also most of the characters are trans and queer but not explicitly said because its not important to the story/whats going on#like yes this kid in hiding is trans and queer but he's in hiding from a cult to really think of romance or more about his gender#also i think itd be kind of silly that even through the worst living conditions that he was still given a binder and gender affirming care#considering how his life goes in there#like “your family will miss you please dont leave us my faithful daughter” “hey actually im a guy sorry” “oh okay. dont leave us my son”#they can excuse child torture and cannibalism but they draw the line at transphobia
1 note · View note
luckykiwiii101 · 2 months ago
Text
ONE THING ABOUT BEING THE QUEEN OF DELUSIONS? IT GIVES YOU A LONG WAY TO FALL
p.s. this post isn’t pretty, it wasn’t worth my time, or effort.
Tumblr media
Hey Upper East Siders. Gossip girl here. Usually i’m here to help you fix your life, but @loaisacult, this one’s for you. And I can’t name any upper east siders more desperate than, well…you. It’s pitiful I know. But you can cry about it later, if you haven’t ran out of tears already, that is.
I don’t mean to start a fight, but there’s a weak link in every chain, and it just happens to be you.
I know you express your belief in the law of assumption being a cult. The funny thing is, when people don’t like something, they usually walk away, unless it bothers them that much. And the even funnier thing is, you complain about bloggers “preaching” the law of assumption, and getting others to follow. But what are you doing? Preaching your ideologies, in hopes that others will follow you too. Oh what’s that word again…hypocritical was it?
And oh sweetie, no one cares about your irrelevant opinions enough to affirm “@loaisacult doesn’t exist, @loaisacult doesn’t exist…” Talk about a weak argument. I hope law isn’t your major. But you know what is major? Your idiocy.
Calling people on this app suicidal? Pathetic. Although I can’t tell you that isn’t true. Because to some extent, it is. And i’d agree with you if you weren’t so ignorant. But I guess changing self in terms other than just loa isn’t your cup of tea. Bloggers are not meant to be personal therapists for people in the loacommunity. And yes there are and were previously some bloggers who would get suicidal asks from anons and just respond to them to persist. But why are you generalising EVERYONE in the community? Your point is immediately invalid. So because there were some immoral bloggers who would act that way automatically means that the whole entire practise of the law of assumption is a CULT? Hello? Do you hear yourself?
Let’s use your “logic” here. Say gossip girl makes a post telling her followers to worship satan. Therefore the whole entire loa community must ALL be satanists! Now how ridiculous is that…
Yes there are liars, everywhere. Oh i’m sorry, did that come as a surprise to you? You didn’t think the world was rainbows and sunshine did you? Well unless you assume it is. But at the same time, there are honest people too. Yet you like to pick and choose what to focus on. Look me in my virtual eyes and tell me that Lady gaga isn’t one of the most famous people on the planet. Oh wait..you can’t! News flash, she manifested that. And so did many of your other favourites. Yet you choose to focus on liars, because that’s what you want to believe. Of course a close minded, one sided argument is your way to go. Disregard everything else in the process why don’t you.
“It's ironic how some boast about manifesting luxury items like Lamborghinis, which could easily be rented, yet they fail to manifest meaningful change for their followers who are in abusive situations.” - l.o.s.e.r
B-b-but didn’t you say that you used to be a big blogger? So why didn’t you attempt to do the same? (As if! it would only work if they assumed so). But honestly, you don’t sound like someone who is educated on the law, you sound like those desperate anons in bloggers inboxes asking bloggers to manifest for them. Because why is that the point you used? To manifest for followers? Were you…one of those…followers? Talk about holding a grudge. No wonder why you’re so mad. If I had a dime for how many times you got rejected i’d be a millionaire.
“Want to prove to your followers who are spiraling about the American election rather than post persist hehehee how about you manifest for them….. change the election revise life’s an illusion while you’re crying about having your rights taken away lol but you can’t.” - l.o.s.e.r
Run upper east siders, we’ve got an idiot on our hands. Making a point on something completely false. If you really understood the law, you’d know that you can’t manipulate somebody else’s reality, unless they assume you can. But it’s not to my surprise that you didn’t know that, of all people. Last time I checked, it’s YOUR imagination, and nobody else’s. So WHY would YOUR 3D reflect THEIR imagination? And you claim to be a blogger educated on the law…quite a “big” one too. I cant name any “big” bloggers who’ve misinformed the law THAT bad. Talk about liars now…
At this point, it’s PAINFULLY obvious that you were one of those anons begging bloggers to manifest for you. Because you’re SO mad that bloggers don’t do that for people. They can’t really because it depends on your assumption. I’m not even making an invalid point here. It’s just so obvious. “Want to prove to your followers.” “how about you manifest for them” 😭 I’m literally in tears because of how funny this is. I’m sorry that no blogger has proven it to you or manifested “for you”, and you’ve carried that hatred with you and projected it onto the whole loa community. And the only reason you continue to believe that the law of assumption is real (rightfully so) is because you know that there’s way too much proof of it to even attempt to dismiss it without looking like a fool. And maybe a fraction of that belief comes from your hope, because without the law, everything you’d ever hoped for would be out the window.
In short, you make points about “why don’t you manifest for your followers 🥺” Well, I don’t know if you knew this but…there’s this concept called free will. And just because someone chooses to not do something, doesn’t mean they can’t. Is common sense just not part of the package for you? It seems the point flies right over your head faster than you can catch it, and the only thing that doesn’t land, are your “points”.
But if you still don’t understand me, let’s use a little bit of your so -called logic here.
‘Loa is real manifesting is real shifting is real but most people in this community lie and are culty 99.999% of the stories here are lies the people doing that shit don’t even post abt it probably think they’re in some dream most of the success here are creative writing and living in the end.” - l.o.s.e.r
From YOUR logic, couldn’t I just ask you to manifest that the liars don’t exist and that you no longer view the law of assumption as a cult? So why haven’t you…? You’ll ask anyone questions but yourself. And if they think it was a dream…then how did they send their success stories to bloggers? Did I miss an update because last time I checked, you can’t do that in a dream. See, your points are fuelled by complete hatred, not logic. You truly don’t believe what you’re telling yourself and others. Embarrassing.
And don’t get me started on how statistically IMPOSSIBLE that is. Do I even have to explain why? I promise you, thousands of people are NOT lying for the pure fun of it. That’s just not how the human mind works. Wouldn’t they rather shit on loa just like you rather than posting success stories hoping it’ll happen?I didn’t know talking out of the wrong hole was in fashion these days. But then again, not everyone has style. And if there’s one thing money can’t buy, it’s class. Was that a moth? Must’ve flewn right out of your wallet.
Now don’t get me wrong, i’m not bothered to read your whole blog and all the nonsense you cry about and debunk every little thing you say. Because trust me, common sense does the job for me.
Have fun continuing to “preach” your delusional idea of the law being a cult to yourself and your little followers. Like sheep. One after the other.
Don’t even think about trying to respond to me, as if anything you say makes sense.
P.S. I’ll delete this post later, I don’t like having drama on my blog. This is my first and last time addressing you. I just don’t want people in this community, including my lovely upper east siders to listen to idiots like you telling them that all the success stories they’ve read are fake, when that is so obviously not true. Only someone who hasn’t consciously the experienced the law for themselves would doubt others so badly, and you used to be a “big” blogger you say…The fucking audacity. But then again, it’s hard to believe in something you haven’t experienced for yourself (is it?), but at-least don’t get caught in a lie. Disrespectfully, shut your mouth and don’t open it again.
- gossip girl
485 notes · View notes
huginsmemory · 4 months ago
Text
Ideology of Exceptionalism and Gravity Falls; meta and character analysis
Tumblr media
I had a whole ago read a post by @icanlife that had a quote by Alex Hirsch on Ford's greatest flaw, and wanted to explore what the flaw is, which is the ideology of exceptionalism; in the exploration, I’ll touch on what it is and how it is used in abusive relationships and cults, as well as how it drives multiple Gravity Falls characters and consequently how it impacts relationships between these characters, and how the show ultimately refutes exceptionalism.
Quick note here; I am not in any way, shape or form a psychologist nor have any formal training in psychology; this is written from my own experiences with this ideology and my own forays into psychology and trauma-informed learning. It is also written with a loose understanding that is likely not broad enough to cover all references to cults, extremist groups and abusive relationships. 
The Ideology of Exceptionalism 
First of all, we have to get through a drier bit, which is… what is the ideology of exceptionalism and how does it arise? Might be fairly obvious, but it is the belief that you are, or belong to, a group of exceptional people, thus more important and worth more than anyone else; ie, those who don't qualify as 'exceptional'. It is often a subconsciously learned ideology. Now, what qualifies one as exceptional can be extremely varied; generally it revolves around something that provides some form of privilege. Thus, it might be, as the main exceptionalist idea in Gravity Falls, 'intelligence', or power, or it can be such things as attractiveness, quantity of money one has, species, nationality, or skin colour and ancestral heritage. The ideology of exceptionalism, being by nature hierarchical, devalues, and at its worst, openly and violently dehumanizes those who do not qualify as exceptional. 
For why exceptionalism occurs is an extremely broad topic, but I've personally found that, for exceptionalism revolving around intelligence, it's a result of a poor sense of self-worth, and having one's self-worth tied to what makes one exceptional. Poor self-worth itself (again, broadly) is a result of childhood trauma from a lack of positive affirmation and unfulfillment of the emotional needs of the child. Meanwhile, self-worth becoming tied to the quality of exceptionalism generally is a result of when positive affirmation was pretty much solely provided around their 'exceptionalism', especially when provided derogatory commentary, or a blatant example of how they would be treated if they aren't 'exceptional'. As a result of the general lack of affirmation, self-worth then becomes often solely reliant on the qualities of exceptionalism, as that is the only way for the child (and later, adult) to get affirmation of their worth, as well as out of fear of being ‘not worth anything’ like the examples of ‘non-exceptional’ people they have been given. 
This is especially likely to occur when the child is a social outcast; the adoption of the hierarchical ideology of exceptionalism, and the devaluation/dehumanization of others often occurs subconsciously as an avoidance/minimization tactic from pain. This is to say, the child, and later the adult (if healthy self-worth is not established) goes 'it doesn't matter what the non-exceptional people say or if they accept me since I matter more than them because of my exceptionality'. It can even be taken further, that being shunned is part of one's exceptionalism, and becomes part of the qualifier of being exceptional. For instance, 'they just can't understand because they aren't exceptional and that's just a part of being exceptional'. This idea also neatly tailors into the part of the concept of being better then others means you are separate from others; this can be taken that someone who is special, needs to be alone to be truly special.
Obviously, exceptionalism is not a healthy coping mechanism for poor self-worth, as often such people constantly feel the need to prove and show off their exceptionalism to gain that affirmation and avoid rejection, which is stressful. As well, it often negatively impacts their relationships with other people as a result of the arrogance of believing that they are better than most others, or even deliberate sabotage due to their arrogance. This occurs as they flatten the complexity of human experience to black-and-white hierarchical categories of exceptional/not-exceptional through constant judgement of those they meet, and often refuse to engage with people who don't belong to their 'exceptionality', or even people they simply don't like, even if they technically qualify. Generally, those that they do like or have close relationships with, often due to being similar, are automatically labelled as 'exceptional'. Those judged as ‘exceptional’ also become privy to the open judgements of ‘non-exceptional’ others, out of a subconscious belief by the exceptionalist that the other believes similarly; something that may strain their relationship if the other doesn’t ascribe to exceptionalism. This all culminates in the exceptionalist being blind or even adverse to the diversity of experiences, which makes it difficult to create relationships and community outside of echo chambers of their own beliefs (if they can even find this), and subsequently, these people are often isolated and have very few to no close relationships with people. 
However, all humans require connections with other people, relationships where one can rely on others emotionally and physically if needed and feel accepted; they also require to feel like they are worth something, that their life has meaning. Lacking meaningful connections and having a crippled sense of self-worth, a deep yearning hole is left in these people. Exceptionalism, especially as it is a narrative constantly pushed by Western society as it validates hierarchies, is then employed as a (often subconscious) trauma response to assuage this yearning hole, with arrogance and denial. And depending on the circumstances, it can be a very strong and definitive trauma response for people.
This isolation and lack of self-worth is catnip to abusive relationships, including cults and extremist groups. These types of relationships often heavily rely on isolating their victims or pulling them into echo chambers of solely the abuser’s rhetoric, to redefine what is healthy through gaslighting; as the exceptionalists are already isolated, this makes them extremely susceptible. They also often provide these people affirmation, and in these cases especially about their exceptionalism, thus confirming their self-worth, their 'specialness', while also providing them the connection they have been lacking, either through the cult community or through the abuser’s own presence. These emotional needs, which haven’t been met in a long time, if ever, begin to be fulfilled; something that abusive relationships and cults hinge on, rather than any form of logic.
Ideology of Exceptionalism and Gravity Falls
The main characters within Gravity Falls which are heavily ascribed to exceptionalism would be both Ford and Bill; this characterization deeply impacts the story and their relationships with others (technically the Northwest are another case regarding wealth, but less directly impact the storyline and thus tangential; Gideon also is an example, but as a mirror of Bill). With each of these characters I’ll go into detail within their sections on the way they began to ascribe to exceptionalism, and how it plays out later in their relationships; I will first begin with Ford, then move to Bill. Then, to cap it off, I’ll go into the characterization of Stan and the way Gravity Falls refutes exceptionalism. 
Ford and Exceptionalism
Firstly, the quote from Alex Hirsch that kicked this whole baby off, as mentioned previously; 
“Ford sees Dipper as someone who’s special like himself. That’s Ford’s great flaw, his arrogance is he believes that there’s special people, and everyone else. That human attachments are actually weaknesses. And the song and dance that he’s giving Dipper right now, is the song and dance that he gave McGucket, back when they were younger… ‘You and me are different, we’re better than everyone else. We have a path that no one else can understand, and only us can do this.’ It’s a very seductive idea for Dipper… Dipper is a smart kid, but Ford’s projecting. Ford loves Dipper because he sees someone who’ll tell him ‘yes’ to everything. Who’ll never challenge him, who’ll do a really insane dangerous mission.”
Very blatantly Alex Hirsch calls Ford out on his arrogance in the belief that he is special, in his belief in the 'lone hero' complex, in his belief in exceptionalism. And really, it should be no surprise that Ford does so, considering the way he's depicted as a social outcast as a child (other than Stan), and the way his parents have been clearly shown to be not particularly emotionally supportive (“I’m not impressed”); they don't provide positive affirmation except for his intelligence (mostly due to the possibility of money making through it…), while also actively comparing him to Stan who is derogatorily ‘not-exceptional’, and ‘worth less’. This all sets Ford’s self-worth up to be fragile, and other than Stan who wholeheartedly accepts him, he is isolated and invalidated; plus, the only other validation he receives is around his intelligence. All very classically fitting the profile for exceptionalism.
Tumblr media
Image id: Stand and Ford when they were children, both clearly enjoying each other's company.
Ford’s belief in his exceptionalism catalyzes after the shattering of his and Stan’s relationship. Previously the twins are shown to do everything together, having a very close caring relationship; something unlikely if Ford thought he was better than Stan. Also, when Ford is talked to about his opportunities, Ford looks uncomfortable at the way they talk about Stan as inferior, compared to how he himself is being praised; but in the offer he’s simultaneously finally being validated, he’s being told he’s someone worth something, and he’s going to be someone worth something after this. And then the science fair incident occurs, and Ford loses that validation from his parents, from the judges and a future of more validation; after being promised validation and acceptance, it slips through his fingers. And in his anger of being denied that, it becomes easy to begin to slip subconsciously into the rhetoric the others have been feeding him; that he’s exceptional, that Stan isn’t, and he deserved to be recognized for his worth. So he breaks the relationship with the only person who accepted and validated him for who he is. With that loss of previous support, Ford becomes then deeply obsessed with proving his exceptionalism to the world to assuage that fragile self-worth, to become accepted, or even better, revered, confirming that he is someone of worth, someone special, like he was promised. 
Ford’s obsession also doubly functions as a way to alleviate his guilt over shattering their relationship; if he’s exceptional as he believes, then he’s within the right to respond the way he did, as he’s worth more than Stan, he's better off alone, and he has a right to be angry over being denied that validation. As well, in much the same way as it is used as a way to alleviate his guilt over the end of their relationship, it is also likely used in a way to minimize the pain of being ostracized (although not directly depicted); afterall, Ford’s keenly aware and insecure about his social ineptitude and his six fingers as things that make him different from other people, case in point with his experience visiting Lazy Susans Diner. Thus it wouldn’t be unsurprising if he uses the idea of being worth more than those who ostracize him to imply it ‘doesn’t matter’ what they think. His ostracization by nature keeps him from generally forming close relationships, with the exception of Fiddleford (who much like him, is socially outcast, and intelligent) during his university days. As a result, he's isolated and acutely lonely, having lost Stan.
Tumblr media
Image id: One of the missing Journal 3 pages in TBOB, detailing Ford's botched social interaction in Lazy Susans Diner. In the background is the print of his six-fingered hand.
In his obsession over being acknowledged, Ford, like many others who believe in exceptionalism, identifies strongly with the causes of his ostracization (his intelligence, his six-fingeredness) as part of, or wholly, makes him exceptional. It is obvious through his choice of study; with the grant he has been gifted, he chooses to revolve his work around the weird, the outcast, something that you see Ford gravitate towards being an outcast and deemed 'weird' himself (which in Journal 3 he openly talks about). Something that can be, much like him, framed as 'exceptional'. His work is even recorded in a journal that Ford deliberately chooses to put his six-fingered hand on the cover of. Intertwined with the way it becomes adopted into the idea of exceptionalism, is the keen loneliness from his ostracization and a deep desire to be accepted and a wish to find a community of other weird people.
Tumblr media
Image id: Two pages from journal 3, labelled 'Myself', in which Ford is open about being weird, and a social outcast, while also noting his ambitions and that 'Gravity Falls, [is] the place that I fit in.'
Ford and Bill
All of this culminates in Ford becoming an incredibly easy target to manipulate by Bill. He’s desperate to be acknowledged (and thus accepted) by an authority figure so that his belief in exceptionalism is justified and his self-worth confirmed. And he knows he’s intelligent, that he's exceptional because people have told him so, but he just needs to prove it with something that shakes the world. And the grant is finally his second chance after the fair, but he's stuck, and the research is going nowhere, and he's in a town where he doesn't really know anyone and he’s so terribly lonely. And sure, he clings to his exceptionalism but if he can't even prove it then is he really exceptional? Is he even worth anything like he thought he was? And what about what he's left behind, rejected, because of his exceptionalism?
And THEN he finds an incantation and he ignores the warnings because maybe, just maybe, this will be his break to get that acceptance/validation he has been chasing his whole life? 
And then it's better than that. 
A god, essentially, shows himself to him, an ultimate figure of authority. And he tells him that yes, he is special, he’s worth more than other people, and Bill’s only showing himself to Ford because he is so much more intelligent than anyone else. Ford is suddenly getting his exceptionalism confirmed by a god of ancient knowledge, an immensely intelligent interdimensional being, and he’s also showering him with affirmations, specifically affirmations around what Ford's fragile self-worth is based on. And even better, he's delighted by Ford's six-fingeredness; he's not put off at all, it even becomes his main nickname for Ford, just like it used to be for Stan all those years ago. On top of it all, Ford's own social ineptitude doesn't phase Bill, another thing Ford is self-conscious about; Bill's own social ineptitude as he's not human probably makes Ford feel comfortable, knowing that's not expected from him.
Through Bill, not only does Ford find someone who validates his self-worth through intelligence and even confirms to him that his weirdness is part and parcel of making him special, he also finds someone who he regularly (generally) is in contact with, who enjoys talking to him and even banters with him familiarly. Hell, Bill even deliberately goes out of his way (literally possessing a whole wack ton of rats, then dream karaoke) to celebrate his birthday with him; how long do you think Ford has simply skipped his birthday since he had no one to really celebrate it with? The loneliness, beneath his arrogance and belief in exceptionalism, is being fulfilled; for the first time since Ford was a teenager, he's fully accepted by someone, social awkwardness, six fingers, exceptionalism and all. 
Tumblr media
Image id: One of the lost pages from Journal 3 in TBOB, the 'one thing led to another' page, with Bill and Ford singing karaoke and drinking together, both clearly enjoying themselves; Bill has an arm slung around Ford's shoulders.
So it's really no surprise at all that Ford fell for this, hook line and sinker. Hell, if I was in Ford's shoes I would fall for it just as hard. And I've seen a few posts floating around talking about how Bill is bad at manipulating, and no, he's not. He was able to pinpoint exactly what Ford wanted and needed, and provided that, was charismatic enough to provide that. Again, manipulation isn't about logic. It really isn't; it's about the emotional core in people, what people lack and what you can give them to slowly reel them in to sing your dance and song. And people will ignore vast swaths of red flags when you're finally being accepted, when you're finally getting your emotional needs met at least in some way or form. It's better than not having them met at all, such as previously. So Ford worshipping Bill is really not a surprise, especially as Bill deliberately stoked it.
All of this is part of why you see Alex Hirsch call Ford's belief in his exceptionalism his greatest flaw; because it allowed him to be very easily manipulated by Bill, and by its nature kept Ford isolated from others, evident by his arrogance in assuming he knows best and refusing to see other people who aren't as 'intelligent/weird' as him as worth getting to know, listen too and even reach out to ask help from, it's him believing he has to be the lone hero as someone whose 'special'. It's something that blinds him to the danger of his work around the weirdness of gravity falls because he’s desperate to seek a place where he and his weirdness belong, and it's something that plays out in each and every relationship he has because it's something he clings to so deeply. It's what cost him his relationship with Stan, who previously accepted him completely, and, as he's disinclined to form new relationships and as Bill actively strokes his paranoia (Trust No One…), ultimately further increases the hold Bill has over him. It's only Fiddleford’s presence as he works with Ford that allows him some form of outside reference and reprieve from solely Bill’s influence, something that Bill resents deeply and is clearly jealous and angry about, even if Fiddleford is helping create the portal. And it's ultimately Fiddleford, once he was aware enough of what was happening, calls Ford out on it, seriously jeopardizing Bill's influence over Ford; but Ford is too invested in the portal, in chasing his own ambition and caught up in Bill’s manipulation to take him seriously, until the incident with the trial, and Ford beginning to hear other voices then Bill.
Ford’s Exceptionalism and Wider Relationships
Now back to how it plays out in all Ford's relationships; we've already gone over it with Bill's influence, because it made him extremely easy to manipulate, and with his disregard of Stan in favor of validation of his exceptionalism. But Ford, as pointed out by Alex Hirsch, also exerts the ideology's seductive rhetoric to both Fiddleford and Dipper (who look up to Ford) in a similar way that Bill does with him (although there is a difference of it being used intentionally and maliciously, compared to subconsciously and earnestly, even if it is problematic). Ford, with his black-and-white view of exceptionalism, sees both Fiddleford and Dipper as people who are like him; 'exceptional', and so he treats them as such, and uses this rhetoric to coerce them into helping him.
For Fiddleford, the lure is how he can change the world, how he can be finally acknowledged if he helps Ford with the portal. And it works well; he willingly chooses to leave his own work and his wife and young son, to work with Ford. Much like Ford, Fiddleford himself is also a social outcast and regularly presumed less smart than he is, and he’s got a chip on his shoulder to prove himself, to gain acknowledgement and recognition from the world at large. Although Fiddleford has a family which presumes he’s not entirely lonely like Ford is, he also clearly has deep feelings for Ford, some which are hinted to be more than just ‘friendly’ feelings; it is likely the combination of the lure of validation and spending time with Ford, a kindred spirit that accepts him and an old friend/crush, that causes him to agree (afterall, it was Ford who made Fiddleford feel accepted and choose to stay at Backupsmore). And Fiddleford’s not even considered a partner, but rather an assistant to Ford due to Ford's arrogance, and he still drops everything to go! It’s more about their relationship and connection rather than validation, but that doesn’t stop Ford from espousing exceptionalism. And this is a distinguishing difference, because although Fiddleford would like recognition, he’s not there solely because of it; he’s not a believer in exceptionalism nor arrogant about his skills, and so, unlike Ford who is blinded by his obsession, he’s much more aware of the dangers of the weirdness of Gravity Falls. Thus, he's actively calculating the risks involved, and when he realizes there could be potentially devastating consequences of the portal, he attempts to talk Ford out of it; this fails due to Ford’s own denial and obsession over the portal. In the end, it all goes terribly sideways, and Fiddleford ends up losing everything he had; his wife, his son, his friend, his memories and himself to the trauma he had experienced at the invitation of his friend with the lure of validation and company, due to the memory gun he had created himself. 
As for Dipper, much like Ford, he also has issues with self-worth (many of the episodes deal with Dipper finding self-worth; ie, the manotaur episode), has a physical oddity (his birthmark) and by far the trait he relies on most for worth is his intelligence (for example, in one episode he rubs it into Mabel's face over and over again in beating her in games). He's also extremely desperate to be recognized by authority figures as someone intelligent, case in point when he summons the dead after being made fun of by the government agents to try and show them that the information he's gathered is important after Stan dismisses his knowledge. This desperation to be seen as someone of worth from Dipper, much like Ford, extends to the need to be a hero, something he even says at the end of the zombie episode; yet, due to Mabel, unlike Ford he's not a lone hero, and Mabel also half the time acts as the hero.
Tumblr media
Image id: Zombies crawling out of a crack after Dipper summons them; Dipper and the two agents look on in horror.
It all culminates in Dipper hero-worshipping Ford when he returns; really, no different than Ford worshipping Bill. And Ford clearly finds it extremely flattering; Dipper's attention and amazement of him feeds his exceptionalism. Exactly how Ford responded to Bill, Dipper is willing to do anything for Ford, excited too, in an attempt to impress Ford and be validated and accepted. And for Ford, that's an extremely heady feeling, especially as someone who has been constantly alone the last 30 years, especially when he had one previously confirm his exceptionalism all those years ago and stopped, and now someone is once again affirming that idea. And Ford doesn't have to be alone again, because he's found a kindred spirit in Dipper as his assistant, someone ‘just’ like him, someone who is exceptional. Because he sees himself in Dipper, he begins to espouse exceptionalism unconsciously, by praising Dipper's own intellect and adventurous spirit, assuaging his feeling of self-worth, while also telling him he's more important or better than others because of it. 
And it's seductive to Dipper, because he wants to hear those affirmations of his self-worth, especially as he hero-worships him, but Dipper isn't sold on it, because it means leaving Mabel behind, it means believing that he's worth more than Mabel (and also, Stan, and all his friends he’s made in Gravity Falls). It's ultimately because of his relationship with Mabel that he rejects the ideology; he's not isolated the way Ford was with Bill, and he's not willing to break that relationship for that acknowledgement, because his relationships matter more to him.
Bill and Exceptionalism
Now of course, that's only on the Pines; what about Bill? 
While it's obvious that Bill uses exceptionalism as a main manipulative tactic, it's not just an ideology he sprouts emptily; it's also an ideology he believes in, just like Ford, although it's less based on intellectual exceptionalism, and more on power and 'weirdness'. 
This most distinctly can be seen in Bill's denial about what happened to his home dimension; Bill's belief in his exceptionalism occurs as a pain avoidance tactic from killing his whole dimension. Bill was clearly a social outcast within his dimension due to being able to see 3d; he's not accepted, and not trusted, to the point that there is medical intervention to make him blind. That's a deeply traumatic experience that completely erases one sense of self-worth, where one’s sanity is called into question by your parents on something that is not harmful, that's beautiful and you just want to share with them. It's a deep and clear rejection of who Bill is, and his ability. As a result, out of a desperate bid to be understood and accepted, he ends up trying to show them the stars. And it ends up killing everyone. 
Tumblr media
Image id: Page of TBOB, on 'The Early Years' which notes that Bill was an oddity for seeing 3d, something that was illegal to speak about. Bill frames it as something that made him 'special' and better than all the others.
Traumatized, and originally rejected by the dimension, he instead weaves an excuse of exceptionalism; that it doesn't matter what he did to them because he's exceptional and he's worth more than all of them because he can see 3d, because he's powerful, so he shouldn't/'doesn't' feel any remorse about it. With such a traumatic result of trying to be accepted by people, he rejects the idea of trying to be accepted for who he really is; instead adopting a facade of a monster that he believes he is (and eventually, becomes).
Even if he clings to the delusion of exceptionalism, and shuns attempts to find true acceptance, he still wants it; and that's where his henchmaniacs fit in, as they're all, as Bill's noted when trying desperately to get Ford to join him, weird; each has something 'wrong' with them, which is why Bill accepted them as his lackeys (although it's not like we know the context around these). It's a surface-level acceptance however, one more predicated on fear than emotional acceptance. He's taken his 'weirdness', much like many do who believe in exceptionalism,as ‘part of what makes him exceptional'.
In the same way that Ford wants to show the world that he's smart and intelligent by building the portal, Bill does so by wreaking havoc and taking over existences as a way to show the world that he's powerful, that he's someone to be reckoned with, that he's not someone to be ignored because he's someone who's worth more than others. If you can't be loved and accepted, then being hated and feared is better than being ignored; acknowledgement at least approaches acceptance, it's validation of some sort of worth. It also functions as deliberate self-sabotage of his morals, by proving that he is the monster that killed his entire dimension; if that's what he is, then that's who he's going to be, because if he wasn’t, then he has to come face to face with his remorse over what he did to his dimension and his whole house of cards around his exceptionalism and not caring collapses. So instead he keeps feeding the delusions the denial, and lies and lies and lies and keeps lying to ignore all of it, to wrap himself in this shroud of exceptionalism and brutality as a way to function. And it somewhat works, because he's mostly deluded himself about it all, even if subconsciously he knows. 
And of course, this display of Bill's exceptionalism is what brings Bill to earth, to Gravity Falls, and to manipulating humans. In meddling with earth and humanity, beyond Bill's goal of taking over earth and fleeing his own unravelling dimension, he also enjoys reaping the benefits of being worshiped by humans, who find him awe-inspiring. Their amazement of who he is, and Bill's own posturing and manipulation of people leads to Bill literally forming cults (ie ciphertology) or having apprentices that worship/find him (to varying degree) inspiring; all reinforcing his feelings of exceptionalism. 
Of course, Ford numbers among these people; he praises Bill and worships him, as he's played like a fiddle by Bill, because his self-worth and belief in exceptionalism is fucked up in a way that perfectly resonates with Bill’s. Because it's the exact same types of issues around self-worth, around being an outcast, being weird and wrong physically, and yet at the same time gifted. And Ford clearly is incredibly lonely and yearning for acceptance, but so is Bill; since the beginning he's been trying to find someone who would accept him, even if he's given up on it. And for his song and dance to entice Ford in, he pretends he's not crushed dimensions for fun, that he's not a 'monster'; a version of him he buried after he had tried to show his parents the stars, one that he occasionally resurrects and puppets around for manipulation (all lies are better when they have a grain of truth). And this version of him is worshipped, but above all is accepted, is loved by Ford. The softer parts of Bill, even if they are still weird as fuck, the parts that were never far beneath the surface for all his deluding, become loved by Ford. Much as Ford becomes hooked on Bill’s praise, Bill also becomes hooked on Ford's genuine love and care. It becomes personal, unlike any previous ‘inspirations’ and Bill over time gets to the point that he feels accepted, safe enough with Ford to share about his dimension much more close to the truth then he did with any of his henchmaniacs. He becomes vulnerable with Ford, in response to Ford’s own vulnerability with him. He’s finding acceptance for the first time in his life around the softer parts of himself, not just the feared acknowledgement that comes from his dimensions conquering; much like Ford is finally finding companionship and acceptance with Bill, not just only intellectual validation. Bill's also for once, not just self-serving; he cares, and goes out of his way to take time with Ford, even celebrating Ford's birthday (in the unique way he does things), both with the rats and the karaoke.
Tumblr media
Image id: One of the lost Journal 3 pages in TBOB. Ford recounts Bill talking about the destruction of his dimension, and calls himself by implication a monster.
They're both fulfilling each other's emotional needs, needs which both of them have struggled with most, if not all of their lives (although their relationship is certainly not healthy, considering it's codependent as fuck, riddled with exceptionalism and oodles of power imbalance issues). And suddenly, against Bill's plans, Ford's no longer just a disposable pawn, but someone Bill wants as part of his team, someone by his side, closer than his henchmaniacs are. He's unwittingly fallen for Ford, and so when everything goes sideways in his plan, and Ford swears it off, suddenly cutting off their relationship and that acceptance Bill had finally felt, he spirals into grief and anger from the rejection. As a result, he becomes extremely abusive to Ford in desperate attempts to continue their relationship, and ultimately he becomes obsessive over Ford joining him again as Ford continues to refuse, as evidenced by both Weirdmageddon and the Book of Bill.
Stanley Pines, and the Refuting of Exceptionalism 
Exceptionalism, being a negative driving factor behind many core character dynamics, is ultimately refuted by the show. This occurs multiple times over the show, such as with Mabel in the Pioneer Day episode, especially compared to Pacifica, but mostly through Stan's characterization. Stan is someone who has been since the beginning characterized (if lovingly so) as someone who is a failure by societal standards; he’s an older man running a run-down tacky tourist shop to swindle gullible tourists out of their money, has multiple divorces, has an ongoing feud with a literal 12 year old, clearly has had multiple mishaps with the law (some ongoing), is generally pretty self-serving and is extremely lonely and really had no close relationships until Mabel and Dipper showed up. He's not exceptional; he's not even what we would consider 'decent' enough to have a 'typical, hard working job’. In short, he’s a failure, a stark difference to the idea of 'exceptionalism' that characterizes Ford. If he's gifted in any area, it would be charisma (debatedly), not anything else.
But it's still Stan who rebuilds the portal from literally only one journal (not all three!) and gets it to work. It even seems like he only needs some codes from the other two journals when he does get them, suggesting that he was able to extrapolate from what was left and the first journal’s blueprints to fix it entirely, something that is extremely difficult and technically complicated (Ford, Bill and Fiddleford all worked on it together!). Stan's able to do it, even if it's been shown he's not 'naturally' gifted in that area. And it's something he does as a result of his deep care for Ford; because even after their fights, he cares about Ford and wants to right his wrongs, believes he should, because of his whole life of being defined as a failure and even worse than that, screwing up his ‘exceptional’ brother’s life. And he’ll do it even if that means learning how to build an interdimensional portal, even if it takes up thirty years of his life doing so, and he doesn't waver. Much of this is connected to his own complexes around being deemed a failure compared to Ford, having failed to succeed in his life, and how he feels that he needs to atone for screwing up Ford’s life, now for the second time; but beneath it all, he also cares. Much like Ford, he's extremely lonely, but he's not blinded by Ford's arrogance, and as a result he wants to make sure Ford's safe, because that's what he used to do, they’re twins, they grew up together, they once they had fully accepted and cared for each other, and dammit that still means something, and Stan hasn't found that depth of emotional connection since. So if possible, he wants to rekindle that closeness they had, but first, he needs to bring Ford back. 
And in the end, it's not Ford's own special gun he built using his intelligence that 'kills' Bill. It's Stan, someone who Ford had long ago broke it off with in search of validation of his exceptionalism, someone who both Ford and Bill labelled as 'not-exceptional', who defeats Bill. It's exceptionalism's devaluation of people who are 'not-exceptional' that causes Bill to underestimate the Pines beyond Ford, and it's only when Ford put aside his exceptionalism and his refusal to accept and trust 'non-exceptional' people, that is, trust Stan once more, that causes Bill to end up defeated by Stan.
In the end, it's not about who's 'smarter'; it's a reminder that everyone has different skills and are better at different things, but that doesn't diminish one's worth or value, and that just because someone isn't naturally 'gifted' in an area doesn't mean they can't learn or use different ways to get around obstacles. Ultimately, it comes down to that no one is worth more or less than other people; exceptionalism is a lie. It’s a lie and an excuse, and it's certainly not a healthy way to assuage one's poor self-worth. What does matter is creating positive healthy connections with other people, and caring about them. This creates a community where you can be yourself and be emotionally fulfilled through these connections; and when opposition does arise, you become able to fight it together, and fight so much stronger than if you are alone.
And by the end of the show, you see that. Ford begins to let go of the ideal of exceptionalism and its black-and-white categorization; finally recognizes his own faults around prioritizing validation of his intelligence and exceptionalism over his relationships, and finally, after all the years, chooses to create and rekindle positive relationships with people, trust people, and make amends. And in the end, he goes sailing with Stan, prioritizing their relationship, finally fulfilling their childhood promise.
Tumblr media
Image id: One of the pages written by Ford into TBOB. Ford refutes Bill's idea of happiness, and says he has finally found his own happiness, and it looks like the photo taped in, of Stan, Ford, Dipper, Mabel, Soos and Wendy, all smiling together.
TLDR: Exceptionalism, an ideology of categorizing people into being special and worth more vs plebian and worth less, is a trauma response and subconscious ideology that characterizes Ford and Bill’s lives, deeply impacting all their relationships as it is used to coerce people into doing what they want, makes Ford easily manipulated, and breaks relationships through their arrogance. It is ultimately denounced through the way Dipper chooses to reject Ford’s offer and his rhetoric of being exceptional, and through the way it's not Ford’s intelligence, but rather Stan, who has been labeled as 'not-exceptional' and a failure at life, that defeats Bill through trickery. It's a reminder that everyone has worth, and no one is worth more than other people, even if one may be gifted in certain areas; the ideology of exceptionalism is fragile and a lie. In the end, creating a caring, loving community around oneself is where strength truly lies, as is seen with the deep care and love the characters have for each other, and the repairing of Ford and Stans relationship.
Thanks to the lovely @eshtaresht who deigned to beta read this monster of a post for me
If you enjoyed this meta, (first of all if you read all this you're a champ!) I've also done another gf meta post! (It's shorter I swear)
651 notes · View notes
rafry · 5 months ago
Text
Euclydia, Cults and Need for Control
Disclaimer: this analysis raises sensitive topics. if you are/were a victim of a cult and the topic triggers you, please refrain from reading further(/seek help). Additionally, I am not a specialist on said topic, nor am I a clinician. But I am a survivor, so part of the narrative may or may not be just me projecting the trauma on a silly yellow triangle. That said, reader discretion is advised! :)
Tumblr media
The take: Euclydia is likely to be a cult-like society and the reason Bill, after years of abuse, grows up to be as he is: a power-hungry monster. Let's analyze!
For the starters, The Start. Each state has its own anthem. How lucky that we were kindly provided with the Euclidian hymn (hidden under the code "FORGETTHEPAST")! Lets take a look:
Tumblr media
"Two dimensions to and from, You always know which way to go If you're lost, don't be afraid, In Euclydia you've got it made! Run too far too right of frame, You'll appear on left again! Jump too high, don't fry or fret, You'll pop up from the ground, I bet! In this place there is no fear, Roles and rules, always clear, Euclydia, we hold you dear…"
That tells us way more than we could've asked for, really. The most important: Euclydia is a state of Clear Rules™. Everything works perfectly thanks to The Rules and The Roles, and the state is loved by it's citizens. It's might be a caricature 2D utopia, but how it reacts when the rules are questioned?
Tumblr media
"Eye doctor of a different kind, who wants to make his patient blind The doctor says: 'three sips a day will make the visions go away' Fussy eater, baby Billy Wouldn't drink unless it's silly..."
If there's anything about cults and the way they make people behave, is that the "wrong" ones in the community are usually ostracized and/or heavily medicated to not cause any troubles. Those people are sometimes called 'heretics', but may as well just be called crazy or insane by their peers. Oh look completely unrelated picture:
Tumblr media
"Cipher, Cipher, he's insane Starting fires with his brain"
Honestly, the other time it would be it. Euclydia, if not Is, then sure does Act like a cult in some way. I could've finished here, easily, but there's something missing, isn't?
"The hell do you mean by 'The Need to Control', OP?"
Tumblr media
I mean that the BILLVILLE is important.
There's the thing about trauma survivors: some of us, after living a life with no control over ones societal position (ostracization/isolation), body (forcibly medicated) or even mind (feeling of inadequacy), crave for some form of control to be regained.
It can turn toxic very quickly when the only form of control one has ever seen in their life is being The Leader (cult leader/shitty parent/armageddon overlord/you get the idea, it's about becoming an authority figure).
Tumblr media
And so, Bill becomes a cult leader! Very possibly covering up the need for control and admiration with what I call "The most inefficient way to build an Interdimentional Portal ever", since, well, he's got to lie to himself every now and then, that's his thing (trauma response).
As for the details:
Tumblr media
He uses the dead mans body — the body that wouldn't cause any resistance, thus being perfect for taking under control.
Tumblr media
He sees the position of the interviewer as more authoritative than the position of the interviewee — and he swaps the roles. That wasn't enough though, so he demands (politely) to be called "My Lord And Master" for a good measure.
Tumblr media
He very possibly recreates some of Euclydia-like order in his own "Town" in terms of expressing individuality. They might've been pretty decent in following scripts, I think.
So, I don't think Euclydia has ever been religious in any way, since that would left some other scars on Bills psyche for sure. But highly authoritative, ignorant, strict in its rules to the point of self-damnation? That checks. That's the place that has formed Bill, after all.
That's the place that he wishes to rebuild.
Maybe not consciously, maybe distorted by his illness and broken memory of a loving-paradise-home that has never actually been that way, but he seeks the comfort of familiarity — most of us do. Familiar stings are better than an uncontrollable too-bright future, isn't?
I hope he does well on therapy.
869 notes · View notes
tinyfrog51 · 5 months ago
Text
It's taken me a while to process the Ballerina Farms article from the Times, but now that the screaming online has died down I think what truly upsets me about this comes in layers.
First, I am sad and afraid for Hannah Neeleman. She's clearly an intelligent, driven, caring woman. I have no doubt that she would be just as popular and successful had she never met her husband. And I pity her because she was unfortunate to cross paths with a man who made it his life goal to derail hers.
I don't think Hannah Neeleman is at fault for her current situation. She grew up in a cult, and her decisions are guided by the damage Mormonism inflicted upon her. And frankly, she resisted this life as much as she could (by rejecting her current husband for 6 months before he finally overwhelmed her) which was immensely brave.
Second, I am angry. I am angry at her husband, at the Mormon "church", at a society that allows women like Hannah to be churned into the ground for men to walk on. Her husband had the pick of any Mormon girl who had been groomed to be a perfect homemaker from birth, and he chose Hannah because she was resisting.
And this is what drives me insane. Men like Hannah's husband don't want a submissive wife. They want an ambitious woman to beat into submission. He doesn't want Hannah, he wants her suffering; not allowing pain remediation in childbirth, gifting her an apron when she begged for a vacation, turning her dance studio into storage. He controls her body, her time, and her finances. It wouldn't nearly be so fun for him if his wife wanted all of these things too (if it was, he would have married one of those women!) He doesn't love having a "trade wife," he loves having a woman to torture.
And finally I am so frustrated at the public reaction to this. The outcry at Hannah's treatment being met with one of three responses:
1. Abuse is ok if it's her choice! #feminism #slay
2. Women are supposed to be abused, and in fact they love it and the women who say it's bad are jealous because they wish they were being abused too
3. Women criticizing a clearly abusive relationship is because women love tearing each other down. A woman's biggest hater will always be another woman!
So now, I dont know if I will see a change in how we treat women in my lifetime. I hope when my children are my age, they won't have to make long tumblr posts about their agony at how women are treated.
All I can do is hope that Hannah Neeleman will be safe and happy one day. And pray that she finds the courage to push her disgusting husband into a combine harvester.
495 notes · View notes
midnighvtm4ss · 5 months ago
Text
Rosemary
Tumblr media
Summary: Arthur is smacked right in the face with the consequences of his actions as the fate of your relationship is hanging by a thin thread. part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4
AO3 link (a better rewritten version of this fic on ao3)
Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!reader
Content: suggestive, angst, hurt/no comfort (for now) probs grammar errors :/
wc: little under 3k
A/n: before any of you come after me, blame the angst on the bad weather not on me !! (plus we both know you love it <3) anyways reader absolutely eats arthur alive in this chapter so grab your popcorns and tissues !! Next chapter is gonna be the last so it’s gonna take a bit of time to write sorry :(( as always let me know if you like this chapter thank you all for the amazing support you’ve showed for Rosemary <33 gif from pinterest.
Tumblr media
The sight of Clemens Point camp emerging from the thick woods surrounding its path, felt strangely like the sight of heaven to Arthur, his muscles aching and screaming at him from the tiring day. Between his visit to Rhodes with Mary and all the manual work Uncle put him under in the morning, the only things he longed for were the softness of his bed and you engulfing him in one of your warm embrace. 
Spending three hours chopping wood and gathering whatever material Uncle needed for his mysterious project that supposedly ‘would help a great deal everyone in camp’, proved to be a tiring job even for the camp’s main enforcer, his strength dulled by the biting cold of October and the constant ache of his heart. Each swing of the axe in the air helped Arthur think, his mind consumed by you, trying to figure out what the hell happened for you to act so cold and distant towards him. The image of his darling’s sweet face contorted in an expression of hurt and disappointment at the sole sight of him from this morning hunting his mind, making each swing harsher than the other. 
When Uncle decided to call it a day, Arthur internally thanked the maker above as he felt his patience wearing thin every time he called Uncle out for not lifting a finger to help him while the older man comfortably sat under the shade of one of the tall trees near the outskirts of camp complaining about his ‘lumbago’. His relief, though, was short lived as the memory of Mary’s letter flashed in his mind.
Mary had been writing to him almost every two weeks, since her late husband died she had been writing to Arthur asking for help, him being the only male left she knew, after her abusive father went mad, gambling all their possessions away and his brother ran off. 
The first letter he received a few months prior left him with a bitter taste in his mouth. He was tempted to just throw it in the bin and forget about it. After years of nothing she found the guts to write to him again, asking to save her little brother from a strange cult that apparently worshiped turtles, as Arthur understood. That first letter woke inside him an anger he thought died down. He needed to confront her. So a few days after receiving the first letter, Arthur rode to Valentine, his mind fixed on refusing to help her, yet after hearing her story out he didn’t find it in him to tell her no.
It’ll be just a one time thing, after this he’ll never see her again. He reassured himself. 
But then another letter came and then another, and he felt like a fool for helping her every time. Worse yet, he felt like an absolute bastard lying to you each time he went to help Mary out, always finding an excuse as to why he was out late. His conscience shouting at him to tell you the truth each time he looked into your hypnotizing eyes as you both layed naked in the comfort of your tent, but how could he explain it all to you ?
Mary, on the other hand, knew about you, having heard of you once from Arthur when you first joined the gang, but now she knew about your relationship with him. He told her from their first encounter, quick to not let her think he had any other intentions.
He’d help, sure, but only for old time’s sake.
Although Arthur sensed she wasn’t particularly excited about his newfound love, she respected your relationship, often asking him for updates and lending him some advice. It felt strange talking about you to his ex fiancè but she’d ask and he’d talk, never shying away from an opportunity to talk about his darling girl. 
Finally free of Uncle’s relentless job, he jumped on his horse, riding into town to meet with Mary. 
The town of Rhodes was particularly busy when Arthur arrived, the usually calm town buzzing with life and chatter. Men and women dressed in all kinds of fancy dresses and tall hats adorned with feathers and ribbons, strolled around town. From what Arthur heard from a couple near the saloon, a famous singer from Saint Denis was doing a show in town.
Suddenly conscious about his rugged and worn out attire he quickly made his way toward the general store, where Mary told him to meet her. Something about buying some plumbing tools, she said. Their evening went smoothly, they chatted away as Arthur helped with her shopping advising her which tools to buy and which ones to avoid. As the moon came high in the sky he escorted her to her accommodation before finally riding back to camp.
––––– ✧ ✦ ✧ –––––
“Who goes there!” the shout of Bill’s voice followed by the cock of his shotgun thundering in the night from his usual lookout position.
“It’s Arthur, you moron.” 
As the faint chattering of camp filled Arthur’s ears, images of you began to cloud his mind. He needed to find out what was bothering you. He needed to make it right by you, whatever it’ll cost. He hitched his horse, patting his mane a few times whispering sweet praises that made the horse sway its tail before walking towards your shared tent. 
The camp was almost empty, being close to midnight the only people up were Javier who sat near the campfire, tuning the guitar in his lap as Reverend Swanson chatted animatedly about his past life experiences with a tired Mister Pearson who looked worse than one of his stews, and then there was Abigail who was chatting with you at the entrance of your shared tent. The both of you dressed in your best dresses, the sight of your body wrapped in the soft cotton and laces of your dress making Arthur’s heart race.
You were one of God’s angels, his sweetest and most beautiful creation, he was sure of it.
As you noticed his presence coming towards you, you hurriedly whispered something to Abigail, making the brunette widen her eyes, before entering your tent, leaving Abigail outside, her eyes finding Arthur’s as he came to an alt before the opening of your shared tent, her expression resembling the ones she had after a fight with John. Anger and care blended together.
After casting a quick confused glance at Abigail, Arthur ducked through the entrance, his broad stature making his action look quite awkward. Letting his eyes adjust to the dim light that shone from the oil lamp on the bedside table, he cautiously sat down his hat, his expression a mix of confusion and wariness as his eyes found your figure, sitting at the edge of your small cot. The skirt of your dress puffy around you making you look like a doll, your head bowed making it impossible to him to read your face and shoulders stiff, toying with something in your hands. You looked up at him, red eyes filled to the brim with tears that threatened to spill once again. Something in the pit of his stomach told him this was going to be a long night. 
"Darlin’," Arthur began, his voice soft as if not to scare a small deer away. 
“Don’t you ‘darling’ me,” you slurred a little. He could smell the faint scent of whiskey on your breath, a sign you’d been hanging out with your girl friends.
“Where were you tonight Arthur ?”
He felt his throat tighten at your question. “I jus’ came back from a job,” he unsteadily replied.
"Right, back from your ‘job’ mhh?" you echoed, your voice tight trying with all your might to keep yourself together. You stood up your wobbly legs almost letting you fall, stepping forward, holding out one of the letters as if it were a weapon. "Or back from meeting her?".
Arthur’s brow furrowed in confusion, and then realization dawned. His stomach dropped as he recognized what you were holding, the sight of you holding one of Mary’s letters felt like a punch to his face. 
"Darlin’, it ain’t what you think," he started, his voice filled with urgency.
"Then, please, tell me what the hell it is!" you raised your voice, making it crack under all the weight of your emotions. You didn’t care if you were yelling, if you were to wake everyone in camp. You were tired of all the bullshit.
"I found them, Arthur. A whole fucking drawer full of letters from Mary. I might not be the brightest at reading, but I know her damned name when I see it.” despite all your best efforts to remain strong your eyes betrayed you as fresh warm tears run down the path that your previous ones left.
Arthur moved closer trying to take one of your hands in his, you took a step back, shaking your head. "Don't," you whispered, voice breaking.
“I went to Rhodes today with the girls, ya’know to clear my mind a bit from all your bullshit, and guess who I found having the time of their lives together ? Laughing and what not.”
He paused, his hand hovering in the air between the both of you. He wanted to reach out, to hold you, to dry your tears and comfort you, to explain, but he knew you needed to hear the truth first. "Please darlin’, you’ve got to believe me. Mary’s just, she's just- I’m just helpin’ her out. Her husband died, and she’s got no one else,"
You let out a harsh, humorless laugh at his poor explanation. Did he really take you for this big of a fool ? Was this really what he thought of you ? Tears poured down even more from your eyes at the realization. "And you, what? You swoop in to save her like some kind of hero? What are you mh, tell me Arthur, are you her bitch ready to bark if she told you to ?”
The venom spilling from your words hit Arthur hard, making him physically flinch as your words hit him right into his face. His heart shattering at your sight, you were physically and mentally distraught. All because he didn’t have the courage to tell you everything from the start.
“You’re still in love with her, aren’t you? Gosh, all this time, Arthur, all this damn time I’ve just been, what? A distraction? Something to pass the time until you could get her back? Poor silly me, thinking I mattered something to you !" Now you definitely woke someone up, your throat burned as you shouted your whole heart out at Arthur, you felt disgusted, dirty even. The alcohol you previously drowned your sorrows into making you nauseous.
You were ready to give your heart to Arthur, you gave him everything. If he asked you the moon you’d give it to him.
And here you were, the biggest fool in the West, thinking you could have a space in Arthur’s heart.
"What, no!" Arthur’s shout was raw, it definitely hurt his throat, you never heard him shout this way, you never heard him shout at you at all. His voice filled with a mix of frustration and fear. He took another step toward you, stretching his hands out in search of your trembling ones, but you stumbled back, almost tripping over the edge of the cot.
"Darlin’, you’ve got to believe me, I'm beggin’ ya” 
“You’ve been lying to me for weeks, Arthur. For weeks you’ve been kissing me, lying in bed with me, you’ve been telling me that you love me while lying to me, for god’s sake ! How am I supposed to believe anything you say now?"
"Because I’m tellin’ you the truth!" Arthur pleaded, his voice thick, cracking with emotion. He could sense your heart getting further and further away from his. He wanted nothing more than to take your pain away seeing the way your shoulders shook with the force of your sobs. He wanted to reach out, to pull you into one of his bear hugs you always loved and make you believe him, but the distance between the both of you felt like a chasm too wide to cross anymore. The only bridge between you deteriorating before his very own eyes.
"Sweetheart, I love you. I always loved you, you’re the only one I care about."
But you shook your head, circling away from him before hitting the cold canvas of the tent wall.
"Don’t," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your sobs. "Don’t say that. You don’t get to say that after everything you’ve done to me… after all these lies."
"Darlin’, please…" Arthur broke down, his voice saturated with panic as he saw you back towards the exit of your tent, his eyes desperate as he looked at you. "I never meant to hurt you. I thought I was doing the right thing, keeping this from you. I thought- I thought I could handle it on my own, that it would be over before you ever had to know. But I see now I see how big of a moron I was, how fucking wrong I was."
You looked at him, your face twisted in pain, your heart painfully torn between the love you still felt for him and the harsh betrayal you couldn’t shake away. "I can’t do this, Arthur," you meekly said, your voice trembling. "I can’t…I can’t be with someone who doesn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth. Who lies straight to my face as if nothing."
Arthur’s heart shattered at your words. He couldn’t believe this was happening, not again. He was not losing the love of his life again. But unfortunately he could see the resolve slowly hardening in your eyes, the way you were getting yourself ready to walk away. Every cell of his body was screaming at him to find a way to keep you.  "Don’t leave me, sweetheart," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "Please, don’t do this. I’ll do anything… I’ll tell you everything, from now on. I’ll never see Mary again, just don’t go. Don’t leave me alone." he finished his sentence, his tone slowly going down to a mere whisper. His eyes filling with tears.
But you were already pulling away, turning your back on him as you moved toward the tent flap. Slightly hesitating with your hand on the thick canvas, your body trembling with the force of the decision you were about to make. If you did this there was no turning back. But this wasn’t your fault.
"I need to think," you said emotionless, your voice hollow as your sobs died down, leaving you with a hole in your heart, "I need…I need some time for myself."
"No, please don’t…" Arthur’s voice was choked with tears he wouldn’t let fall from his eyes. But it was too late.
You slipped out of the tent into the cold harsh night, leaving Arthur motionless at the center of the cold emptiness of your shared tent, feeling the walls closing in around him. The crushing realization that he might have just lost the one person who truly meant everything to him came down on him at once making his head spin.
Alone in the darkness, Arthur finally let the tears fall, each one a silent plea for a second chance he wasn’t sure he deserved.
––––– ✧ ✦ ✧ –––––
You needed to get away from him, to get away from everything right now. You felt that if you were just a second more inside that tent you’d take him into your arms, begging him to never let you go. But you couldn’t.
He lied to you, you didn’t care about Mary, about his secret rendezvous with her. He lied to you. That’s all you could think of.
Realizing that Arthur could easily follow you in camp you decided to completely get out of camp. You needed space, from him, from everyone. You just wanted to be alone.
Venturing into the woods at night wasn’t the smartest choice you’ve made per se, but a small ounce of alcohol was running through your veins still and you decided to blame it for your poor choice.
The moonlight shone brightly, illuminating faintly your surroundings, the harsh chill of the midnight weather biting your exposed hands as you once again forgot your gloves.
You swallowed down the lump in your throat as more tears threatened to spill from your tired eyes, you were near the clearing you and Arthur found out a few weeks ago, in need of some privacy when your mouths were chasing each other and his hands, warm and calloused, explored your exposed back, your touches burning with raw desire.
The memory of that night burned in your heart when suddenly you heard a twig snap. You turned towards the direction of the sound fear taking over you, shaking every cell in your body. You were physically and emotionally drained, you didn't have a gun with you, not even a knife. The only thing left to do was pray it was just a fox wandering around.
And then you felt it, a sharp burning pain in the back of your head, kicking the air out of your lungs.
The last thing you saw was the forest floor.
Before darkness took over you.
453 notes · View notes
mizading · 2 years ago
Text
Upper Moon Yandere Headcanons 
Tumblr media
Characters: Douma, Akaza, Aizetsu, Kokushibo.
Description: If I’m being honest, I suppose this is how some of the upper moons would express their love normally, but a lot of it is unhealthy. For that sake, I’ll classify this as yandere headcanons for the upper moons with a female reader.
Warnings: Verbal abuse, death, forced affection, unstable behavior, paranoia, etc. 
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Douma..
Once Douma declares something his, it belongs to him until he says otherwise.
Douma’s love is sincere but expressed in a twisted way.
As a cult leader does, Douma provides a facade of a perfect life with him if you stick by his side.
The lack of love and nurturing from Doumas parents causes an insatiable desire for the foreign feelings within him.
Douma uses you to replace the love he never received as a child.
His affection begins in a controlled manner. Consisting of little things such as random hugs, quick kisses, or asking you to hold him for a little while.
Over time, Douma would get a bit possessive. You were lucky if you managed to go more than five minutes without Douma forcing you into hour-long cuddle sessions.
One of his favorite things to do is cling to your body and nuzzle his head into your chest.
The feeling of your body's warmth is the only thing that calms his nerves.
Denying Douma’s love is like stabbing him in the heart from his perspective.
"You don’t really love me, do you..? You're just like my parents."
Denying Douma only makes your situation worse.
In Douma’s world, if he forces enough of his affection on you, you’ll eventually love him.
There are periods when Douma is severely mentally unstable.
During these periods, Douma made it clear that you could not and would not leave his side.
You're extra careful when he’s unstable. Any wrong move, and Douma’s threatening to end everyone close to you.
It’s hard for Douma to understand human emotion. Due to his lack of feelings, he can’t possibly understand why you would want to ever leave his side after he’s provided you with a perfect life.
Regardless of how you feel, Douma needs you too much to ever let you go.
Over time, Douma may possibly turn you into a demon to trap you with him for eternity.
He can’t risk losing something that he may never find again. Your love. 
Akaza..
Akaza would kill for you in a heartbeat if it came to it.
The word love itself isn’t nearly enough to convey how much he loves you.
He would love to buy you little things, such as hair pins, just to see your face light up a bit.
Every time you leave, Akaza must be accompanying you.
Akaza always keeps at least one hand on you.
He wouldn’t mind if you didn’t have much physical strength; that’s what he’s there for.
Akaza would rather die than ever see you hurt.
He has a tendency to hurt anyone who causes you just the slightest bit of inconvenience.
Nobody should ever dare gaze upon you with any ill intent.
The other upper moons avoid interacting with you; they know how Akaza can get when it comes to you. 
You're sacred in Akaza’s eyes; he’s practically on his knees for you.
Akaza can become delusional about your love for him. If you don’t hold the same feelings for him, he’ll convince himself otherwise.
Akaza will literally spend hours kissing every inch of your body to prove himself to you.
With night comes Akaza’s paranoia.
There's much more danger for you once the sun sets.
He won’t leave your side for a single second.
In bed, you're always in Akaza’s arms; he’ll refuse to sleep any other way.
Once the sun rises once more, his nerves calm just a bit.
He simply can’t bear the thought of a life without you.
Akaza will pursue your love until the end of time. 
Aizetsu..
Aizetsu is pretty sensitive. Please don’t be too harsh on him.
He craves your affection constantly; it’s the one thing he needs to keep going.
Aizetsu can get aggressive when you refuse to show affection.
He won’t hurt you, but he might get verbally abusive.
Once he’s calmed down, he’ll cry at your feet, wrapping his arms around your waist begging for forgiveness.
He always regrets his behavior once he’s rational again.
Aizetsu sees the world as a depressing place, and you are the only light in his dull life.
One of his many nicknames for you is Sun. 
When Aizetsu gets deeply depressed, he tends to get distant.
He’s running back into your arms soon enough. 
His favorite thing to do is hug you from behind and follow you around.
Aizetsu is excessively clingy on a normal day.
If he is not all over you, something is wrong. 
He’ll ask you to hold him when his anxiety gets hard to bear; you're the only one who can get him to calm down.
He struggles immensely with his mental health.
You happen to be the one to handle Aizetsu when he’s at his lowest.
A lot of it is taken out on you, and he hates himself for it.
A few hours of being in your arms is usually enough for him to be able to function again.
Aizetsu will always do anything he can to make it up to you the next day, starting off with flowers in the morning.
If you don’t forgive him immediately, he’s on his knees once again choking on his own sobs. 
He can’t sleep without you next to him, helping him keep his depressive thoughts away.
At night, he’ll often rest his head in your lap and ask for you to play with his hair.
The feeling of your hands touching his scalp takes his mind off of the billions of things running through his head.
Aizetsu depends on you, don't fail him.
Kokushibo..
Kokushibo is always lurking in a corner, watching your every move.
He prefers to watch you in silence rather than interact with you.
Kokushibo is aware of his unhealthy attraction to you.
Small gifts, such as earrings or handwritten notes, would be left by Kokushibo on most mornings.
He manages to find something to give you each time he goes out.
Kokushibo secretly has a soft spot for you; you're the only one who knows this, of course.
Any affection coming from you stays on his mind for at least a day or two.
Don't upset him. Kokushibo is quick to completely disappear for a few days to teach you a lesson.
Leaving without Kokushibo by your side is forbidden. Once night falls, you can’t leave at all.
His rules may be harsh, but they're for your own good.
On nights that he’s feeling extra stressed, he may ask you to play with his hair.
There's not too much physical contact between you and Kokushibo, despite his hidden obsession.
He has to have a lot going on within himself to flat-out ask for your touch.
Kokushibo will die protecting you. He vowed to keep you protected, always.
You’ll be kept secret from everyone except Muzan. He won’t have you around the upper moons, especially Douma.
If you're feeling particularly stressed, Kokushibo will sit you down and tell you stories from all throughout his 480 years of living.
Kokushibo deeply appreciates your simple presence since he’s been alone for so long. Knowing that you're there is enough for him.
He spends hours watching you sleep at night; he doesn’t sleep much at all himself.
It brings him a sense of peace to watch your sleeping face, knowing that you're at ease.
Kokushibo can live in some type of peace knowing that you're safe and his.
4K notes · View notes
hypertechnica · 4 months ago
Text
i’m going to make fiddauthor art with fidds wearing his wedding ring and you are NOT going to like it
big obligatory banner that says “cheating is bad don’t do it i just like stories with relationship drama”
closeted, internally homophobic gay men who are married with kids has to be the trope i’m weakest to. no person involved is escaping the despair brought on by a relationship built on a well intentioned, desperate lie, born out of a desire to be normal and good
he WANTED to love her so fucking badly. he felt no ill will towards her and he loves their son more than words can say. he thought the attraction, the way she felt about him, would come with time. it didn’t. he doesn’t want to hurt her yet was doomed to from the start, and he’s truly, truly sorry. this does not absolve him of anything whatsoever and she has the full right to never want to speak with him again. he lied! he pretended to feel the same when he never once felt anything but platonic affection! he’s been in love with someone else this whole fucking time! and their kid… he’s caught in the middle of it all, too young to understand why his father would hurt his family like this.
and then he disappears and never comes back. imagine you’re 5 and your dad goes to the middle of the woods with his buddy for science shit, all of the sudden your parents are yelling on the phone and signing papers, and then he goes MIA. for years.
imagine your husbands “buddy” was the one he was thinking of all this time, not you, never you. and the first chance he gets to run away from you, he takes, and you should have been suspicious by the rushed frenzy of it all, the phone calls getting shorter and shorter until it fizzles to nothing. he forgot to get you a christmas gift. he hand-made him two. there has to be something wrong with you, it has to be your fault. you wish you married the man he becomes when he’s in his presence.
he folded when you started questioning him directly - he’d been to neurotic to ever be a good liar. you thought he was the one. he thought you were nice.
by the time the divorce is finalized he’s different in a wrong way. confused, angry, forgetful, insane - if the giant homicidal robot pterodactyl you’ve been harassed by is any indication. (he’s had a bad habit of building homicidal robots when he’s mad since they met -engineer things- but it was never directed at her - thankfully it never actually does anything) he’s clearly abusing drugs - you’d feel bad if he hadn’t abandoned you with the burden of explaining why your son can’t see his father anymore.
it’s a rotten bit of your soul, but time heals you. you move on and no longer think of him. trust in your career. find a man who truly loves you with no motives attached. raise your kid to be a good man. and in a fashion not unlike shakespearean dramatic irony, this makes him move to gravity falls to find and take care of his father. you couldn’t care less what hee doing now, but damn it, it’s his father, what is the kid supposed to do? but its futile- he appears to have no remorse, hell, no memory of the incident in the first place. (this isn’t his fault but how are they supposed to know that?) so he grows bitter and cold just like his mother used to be.
imagine that.
all over a mans inability to do anything but live in denial. to force himself to live in a box and pine like a dying man over the right one at the wrong time, destined to crash and burn. to take denial to a new level- a cult, brain damaging radiation, a total ego death - just to take the edge off. take off that damn wedding ring
314 notes · View notes
gigabyte-flare · 8 months ago
Text
The Devil is Real (Part 1)
Summary: Your troubled older brother disappeared two years ago, vanishing without a trace; that is until one day you receive a letter from him. He’s living in Spain after having joined a religious group called Los Iluminados, his life seemingly changed for the better. He would love it if you came to visit him. Who are you to refuse an invitation from your beloved big brother, right?
Word Count: 4.2k
Pairing: plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.
Warnings: drug abuse mention, abusive household mention, religious cult, religious trauma, body horror, noncon, dubcon, unprotected p in v, creampie, oral (m and f receiving), kidnapping, yandere tendencies, somno, extreme violence and gore, human sacrifice, murder, blood play/kink, breeding kink, pregnancy, pet names, stockholm syndrome, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT [More warnings may be added in future parts]
A/N: I want to give a shoutout to @d10nyx, who's bot heavily inspired this new series. I had been wanting to write plagas!Leon again for so long, but I wanted to do something I hadn't seen done before and my interaction with her bot planted the seed (breeding kink go brrrrrrrrrrrr). This will likely be my darkest series yet so if that's not your jam, I kindly ask that you keep scrolling. It should be noted that any of the Spanish seen in this series is either from my extremely vague recollection of the language from my youth or from Google translate, so I apologize if there's any weird grammar in any of the Spanish, it is not my intention to butcher the language.
I hope you guys like thrill rides :3
The title is inspired by Bad Things performed by I Prevail
Tumblr media
April 22, 2008
Sis,
I apologize for this being the first time I’ve contacted you in two years, but I promise you, it was for good reason. I finally got help. I moved out to Spain to this lovely rural area called Valdelobos to live with this wonderful community called Los Iluminados. I’ve been sober for just over two years because of them. I would really love it if you came to visit, you would absolutely love it here, sis! I would love more than anything to share with you the community that has made such a huge difference in my life. I don’t have access to a computer, so you’ll have to send me a letter to reply. You can find the return address on the envelope. I eagerly await your letter!
With all my love,
Vince
You sit on your old saggy couch, gently holding the handwritten letter in your hands like it’s going to disintegrate. Your mind is in turmoil; your older brother Vincent, or Vince as most people call him, had disappeared about two years ago. He struggled with drug addiction when he reached adulthood, always chasing his next high. When you had reported him missing, police searched everywhere for him for weeks until you finally had to come to terms with the fact that he was most likely dead.
This letter, however, says otherwise.
“Who’s it from?” your boyfriend asks before sitting beside you, seeing the strained look on your face and growing concerned. 
You don’t answer him at first, your eyes locked on the weathered piece of paper. Realizing your boyfriend, Mark, had asked you a question, you blink a few times and shake your head, snapping yourself out of the shocked daze.
“It’s from Vince,” you reply, looking over at Mark.
Mark looks at the paper you’re holding, then back to you, “are you sure it’s from Vince?”
“Of course I’m sure! That is definitely his handwriting. He’s alive!” 
You hand the letter to Mark, who takes a moment to read the letter himself, adjusting his glasses as he does so, “he wants you to go visit. What are you going to do?”
“I have no idea…” you say softly, burying your face in your hands as you continue to struggle with your emotions.
Growing up, all you had was your brother, having lost your parents at a young age. Growing up, the both of you lived with your grandparents, but they were very abusive. As soon as Vince had turned 18, he fought to become your legal guardian and the two of you moved out. Unfortunately, Vince had turned to drugs to deal with his trauma, but could you blame him? Your grandfather was especially hard on Vince; there were many nights you could remember falling asleep to the sounds of the two of them shouting and throwing things at each other. 
There’s a ten year gap between you and your brother, so naturally Vince had become something of a father figure to you, especially considering you were only two when your parents had died. A car accident you had been told; hit by a drunk driver on the way home from a New Year’s party. You felt like life always dealt you a shitty hand. First your parents, then your brother. But now, your brother seems to be back and he’s ok; he’s sober. You should be happy, so why are you so conflicted?
“I’m going to do some research on this ‘Los Iluminados’ group,” you finally say before standing up from the couch to walk into your bedroom, “make sure it isn’t some Jim Jones bullshit…”
“I’ll get dinner started then,” Mark says, also standing up, making his way over to the kitchen, “I’ll holler when dinner’s ready.”
You nod at Mark before walking into the bedroom, sitting down at your desk in the corner of the room, opening your laptop and powering it on. You open up Internet Explorer and open a new Google search window, typing in Los Iluminados which unsurprisingly yielded zero results; with them not having computer access, it makes sense that there’s no trace of this group on the internet by searching their name. You then search cults in Spain and skim through the results. Again, there’s no mention of Los Iluminados anywhere. Drumming your fingers on your desk, you begin to question the letter’s legitimacy. Whoever sent it knew where you lived and that your brother had been missing for two years. No one would go through that much trouble just to prank someone. 
“Babe, dinner’s ready!” you hear Mark call from the kitchen. 
Letting out a sigh, you reluctantly stand up from your desk, walking out of the bedroom to join your boyfriend in the living room, who just finished putting both your plates down onto the coffee table. Laying in the middle of the living room, your 8 year old brindle English Mastiff, André, lifts his head lazily, sniffing the air upon smelling food. You can’t help but let out a chuckle as you sit down on the couch, grabbing your plate to start eating.
“Even in his old age, André has a one track mind,” Mark says, watching as the large dog gets up from the floor. Mark gently pats him on the head, “don’t you buddy?”
“He sure does,” you reply, reaching over to pat the gentle giant before returning to your meal.
“Were you able to find anything on that group in the letter?” Mark asks, looking over at you before taking a bite of food. 
“Not a damn thing. Which I guess makes sense but still…” you say, your voice trailing off as you let out a heavy sigh, “something about it just doesn’t sit well with me.”
“Then we go to Spain, find out if this group is real or not and bounce if it’s just a wild goose chase,” Mark says, weaving his left hand through the air as he speaks.
“And who’s going to watch André?” 
André’s big brown eyes look between the two of you, letting out a soft whimper. Mark mouths the word ‘fuck’ before taking another bite of dinner.
“Right,” Mark says quietly, giving André another pat on the head.
The two of you finish eating dinner in silence, afterwards helping each other clean up the dishes. You let Mark know that you’re going to write a response to Vince’s letter, heading back up to the bedroom to sit back at the desk, pulling out a notebook and a pencil.
May 15, 2008
Vince,
First, I just want to say I am relieved to see that you’re ok and that you’re doing better. You had dropped off the face of the earth and I couldn’t find you anywhere; I thought you were dead! I’m so incredibly glad I was wrong. And, of course, congratulations are in order for your two years of sobriety. I know that’s something you really struggled with and I’m glad this community was able to help you. Is it a religious group? I think Los Iluminados roughly translates to “The Enlightened Ones” if my vague recollection of Spanish serves me right. Regardless, I would love to come visit you and see where you’ve been living these past two years, just let me know where I need to go.
Sis
Tumblr media
May 31, 2008
Sis,
I was so excited to see you had written back that I practically ripped the envelope open. Los Iluminados is a small religious community and, I know what you’re thinking, it’s not a cult, so you have nothing to worry about there. They’re really big on living a traditional, almost pagan-like lifestyle and for me, being able to unplug while I got better was exactly what I needed. I’m hoping after experiencing Los Iluminados yourself that you’ll feel the same. As far as getting you here goes, you’ll want to fly into Valencia Airport, we’ll come pick you up from there. Call the enclosed number once you have your flight booked and tell Maria what day you’re coming. I’m looking forward to seeing you!
Vince
You tuck the letter back in your carry on bag, leaning back in your seat on the airplane and closing your eyes. You land in Valencia Airport in less than an hour and you are doing everything in your power to keep your nerves in check and not get your hopes up. You did as Vince had asked, you called this woman named Maria and with really broken Spanish, you had told her you were flying in on June 17th. At some point you must have dozed off because you’re jolted awake when the plane lands on the tarmac.
The plane pulls into the dock and you along with the other passengers file out. You head down to baggage claim to grab your luggage; you had packed about a week’s worth of clothes since you didn’t know how long you were staying. You low key were hoping to talk your brother into coming back to the States with you, but that’s a bridge you’ll cross when you get there. That thought is far from your mind, however, when you get through airport security and immediately spot your brother holding a large sign with your name on it. Your mouth hangs agape as you stop in your tracks. The last time you had seen him, he was a 33 year old who looked almost 50 due to his years of drug abuse. Now? He has color in his face, he’s gained weight and actually looks healthy. His clothes are a little disheveled and covered in dirt, but he’s smiling, probably the first time you’ve seen him smile since you were children.
Dropping your luggage, you run over to your brother, throwing your arms around him and hugging him tight, tears freely flowing from your eyes as you cry out, “it’s you, you’re real! You’re alive!”
Vince tightly hugs you back, rocking you both back and forth before stepping back, smiling down at you as his hands remain on your shoulders, “look at you! All grown up; 25 has treated you nicely!”
You playfully scoff before walking back to grab your luggage, “hardly.”
You return to Vince, who then takes your luggage from you as the two of you begin to walk out of the airport, “how’s Mark? You two are still together, I take it?”
“We are! He’s doing good, he’s at home watching André.”
“André is still around? That’s nice to hear!” Vince says as the two of you walk up to a very beat up looking sedan, “here’s our luxury limousine!”
You playfully smack him with the back of your hand, “very funny, Vince.”
You watch as Vince opens the trunk of the sedan, putting your luggage inside, he looks up at you as he closes the trunk, “go ahead and get in the back seat, Sis.”
You nod in acknowledgement, climbing into the back seat, your brother joining you shortly after. An older couple sits in the driver’s and passenger’s sides of the sedan, promptly driving away from the airport once you and your brother put your seatbelts on. 
“We have about a three hour drive ahead of us, you must be exhausted from your flight,” Vince says, looking over at you and giving you a warm smile.
You nod, feeling your eyes grow heavy from jet lag, however you force your eyes to stay open; you desperately don’t want to miss a single moment with your brother.
“Hey,” Vince lays a hand on your shoulder, “it’s ok, get some rest, I’ll wake you up when we get close to the village.”
“If you say so…” you reply softly. 
You hesitantly let your eyes close, drifting off into a dreamless sleep. It feels like only a moment has passed when Vince shakes you awake.
“Hey Sis, we’re here!”
Tumblr media
After getting out of the car, there was still a considerable hike until you got to the village proper. Once getting there, however, you find yourself pleasantly surprised. You weren't sure what you were expecting of a small village at the center of a religious community but what you’re seeing wasn’t it. It is a bonafide village, with actual houses, a town center, a watchtower and a large brick structure towards the back. In the distance, you can see a windmill slowly spinning. You chalk it up to the large number of documentaries you had watched on cults leading up to this trip that painted a picture in your mind of what this village would look like; the small, white cottages of People’s Temple immediately coming to mind. A part of you is glad you were wrong.
“So, what do you think?” Vince asks me, gesturing one of his hands towards the village, “this is where I’ve been these last two years.”
“It’s nothing like what I expected, it’s… honestly really peaceful,” you reply, looking around the village in awe.
You watch as several of the other villagers stop what they’re doing to look at you and your brother, an older woman over by a well giving both of you a warm smile before pulling a bucket of water up from the well.
“My house is over here,” Vince continues, pointing to one of the houses on the left before leading you towards it. 
Vince’s house sits next to the watchtower, he opens the door and walks inside. Before you enter, you happen to turn around and look towards the large brick building in the back of the village. Standing at the door is someone wearing a black cloak with gold trim, underneath his clothes you can tell he’s wearing cargo pants and a tight fitting athletic shirt of some kind. But that’s not what grabs your attention; it’s his azure eyes locked on you, causing your blood to run cold.
“Vince,” you say, your voice trembling as you reach to grab his wrist, stopping him, “who is that over there?”
Vince turns to look where you’re looking, letting out a soft chuckle once he sees who you’re looking at, “him? That’s just Leon. He’s the right hand of our Lord Saddler. He’s probably here to check on things, don’t worry about him. Come inside.”
Vince practically pulls you, shutting and barring the door shut once you’re inside.
“Why are you blocking the door?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as your brother turns to face you.
“We tend to have an open door policy in the village. Where you and I haven’t seen each other for awhile, I figured it’d be best to have some privacy, wouldn’t you agree?”
You nod as you take in your surroundings. There’s a staircase leading upstairs and around the corner, a dining table and a kitchen area. Several candles are burning; they definitely don’t have electricity and running water in this village. Behind your brother is a worn couch.
“Is that where I’m sleeping?” you ask, pointing at the couch.
“Nope, you get the bed upstairs. I can live with the couch for a while. Nothing but the best for my little sis.”
“Thanks Vince,” you reply, grabbing your luggage, “I’ll bring this upstairs, then maybe we can talk. You know… catch up.”
You grab your luggage, dragging it up the stairs. You spot the bed at the end of the bannister next to a window overlooking the village center. As you’re staring out the window, you spot the cloaked man, Leon, again. He’s standing in the center of town, looking right at you. It sends a chill down your spine. You turn around and scream a little when your brother taps you on the shoulder.
“You ok? You weren’t answering me,” Vince says, his face full of concern.
“Sorry… it’s that guy. He’s right down there staring at the window,” you reply, turning to point out the window, however, Leon is gone, “oh, nevermind. It must have been my imagination.”
“He’s like… a guard dog of sorts. He’s probably just making sure you’re chill,” Vince explains, gently grabbing you by your upper arm and leading you back downstairs, “he’s like that with anyone he doesn’t know.”
“Right, of course…” you’re still uneasy, but decide to trust your brother.
“I’ll get started on dinner, have a seat at the table,” says Vince before walking over to the large wood stove, which is already aflame.
“Can I help with anything?” you ask, still standing by the table.
“No, I got it. Been doing this for two years. I can handle it. You’re the guest of honor, you just sit back, relax and let your brother take care of you.”
While your brother prepares dinner for the two of you, you make small talk, getting him caught up on the two years worth of stuff he missed. You told him about Mark and André, told him that your horrendous grandfather finally passed away a year ago; you had caught a smirk on Vince’s face before he turned his attention back to making dinner. Once dinner is finished, he sets both plates down at the table and the two of you dig in.
“Earlier you had said Lord Saddler,” you begin, taking a bite of food before continuing, “Vince… are you sure this isn’t a cult?”
Your brother bursts out laughing, reaching over to put his hand on yours to comfort you, “Lord Osmund Saddler is the patriarch of Los Iluminados and the speaker for the Holy Body. I’m not held here against my will. I promise you with every fiber of my being, this isn’t a cult, Sis.”
“I’m sorry I just… I may have watched a bunch of documentaries before coming here on cults and I just want what’s best for you, that’s all.”
Vince smiles, “Don’t worry, no one is going to drink any Kool Aid here.”
“Vince, that’s terrible!” you playfully smack him, “also it wasn’t even Kool Aid!”
You can’t help but laugh, slowly letting your mind be at ease. It’s clear your brother is happy and healthy here in this village. Before you can continue your conversation with Vince, you hear the chime of a church bell in the distance and you watch as your brother immediately stands up.
“What’s that all about?” you ask, slowly standing up. 
“That is the sound of evening service. Come! I’d love for you to see one of Father Méndez’s services.”
Taking your hand, Vince unblocks the door and takes you outside. You see all the villages are filling into the large brick building you had seen Leon standing in front of earlier.
“That’s the meeting house, we have to pass through it to get to the church,” he explains to you as he leads you to follow the other villagers inside the building. 
Upon walking in there is a large room, shelves of food and supplies lining the walls. In the back of the room was a large painting of a robed man; not Leon, but someone else, Vince notices you staring at the painting.
“That is our Lord Saddler. Hopefully you’ll get to meet him during your visit; he’s a wonderful patriarch, I think you’ll like him.”
There is something about the painting that unsettles you, but you can’t put your finger on it; nor do you have time to because before you know it, Vince is leading you into the adjacent room. This room has a large table lined with chairs on both sides. You both proceed around the table exiting out of the door on the other side with the other villagers. The door takes you out to a winding path which opens up to a cemetery with the church sitting just at the top of the hill.
You and your brother make your way up the hill, following the rest of the villagers into the church where you and your brother sit in one of the pews in the middle. There is an extremely tall man standing at the altar, wearing a black leather trench coat and a large brim hat. His dark beard has subtle white hairs, indicating to you that he’s much older than you and your brother. In fact, now that you think about it, you realize you and your brother are probably the youngest ones in the church.
Behind the imposing man is a large stained glass window decorated with red, blue, green and white. The white glass makes a pattern. You’re not sure what to make of it; it’s almost like a crude insect-like cross with four appendage-like parts extended out with a tail pointing downwards. Once everyone is seated in the pews, the man at the altar addresses the villagers.
“My brothers and sisters,” the man begins, his Hispanic accent thick, “before we begin tonight’s sermon, I wanted to welcome the visitor that Vincent has brought to visit our village.” The man gestures one of his hands towards us, “if you would do the honors, Vincent.”
Your brother stands up, “Gracias, Father Méndez. This is my younger sister,” he says before telling everyone your name, “she’ll be staying with me for a while, we haven’t seen each other since I first came here. I hope you all can join me in showing her what makes Los Iluminados a special community.”
The other villagers clap softly as Vince sits back down. After that, Father Méndez begins the service, which is in Spanish, so you strained your brain to try to pick up bits and pieces of what he’s saying. This doesn’t last long, however as your eye catches movement in the darkness in the back of the church. You feel your heart skip; it’s Leon again, his azure gaze once again locked on you. His expression is cold and emotionless, but there is no doubt in your mind that he is staring at you. 
As if sensing your unease, your brother nudges you with his elbow and whispers, “what’s wrong?”
“It’s Leon again…” you reply, nodding your head in Leon’s direction.
Vince’s gaze follows yours, spotting Leon staring at you from the back of the church. Vince lets out a soft sigh.
“I’ll talk to Father Méndez after the service.”
For the rest of the service, you steal glances towards the back of the church, where Leon remains, still staring at you. At the end of the service, however, when you look back, Leon is finally gone, much to your relief. 
Father Méndez’s booming voice draws your attention back to him, “¡Gloria a Las Plagas!”
“¡Gloria a Las Plagas!” the villagers, including Vince, repeat back.
Gloria a Las… Plagas? you think to yourself, glory to the… plague? Plagues? Pests? What? That makes no sense…
Before you can think it over further, your brother stands up abruptly, pulling you up with him.
“Pablo,” Vince says as he approaches another villager, “¿Puedes llevar a mi hermana de regreso a mi casa? Tengo que hablar con el padre Méndez.”
The man nods, “sí, claro.”
Vince turns his attention back to you, “Pablo here is going to take you back to my house while I talk to Father Méndez about Leon, ok? I won’t be long.”
“Alright, thanks Vince,” you reply as Pablo gently takes you by your upper arm, leading you out of the church.
You turn back, watching your brother approach Father Méndez before the church doors close behind you.
Tumblr media
“Vincent,” Méndez begins as Vince approaches him, “what can I do for you, my brother?”
“It’s about Leon,” Vince says, crossing his arms, “I want him to leave my sister alone.”
“What do you mean? You do remember what you agreed to, no?” Méndez presses straightening his posture.
“I do remember, but he is scaring her. All he’s done since she got here is stare at her.”
“And? Are you saying you’re defying the will of Lord Saddler?”
“No, of course not!” Vince exclaims before lowering his voice, “but if we want any chance of her staying in Los Iluminados, he needs to chill out with the staring, ok? Is that too much to ask, Father?”
Méndez brings a hand to his beard, stroking it as he contemplates Vince’s request. After a few moments, he gently nods, “fine. I will speak with Lord Saddler on this.”
“Thank you, Father.”
Tumblr media
She is perfect.
Leon stands at the end of the bed that you’re sleeping in, completely oblivious to his presence. Bringing his hands up, he lowers the hood of his cloak. The exposed skin on his neck and face are completely covered in inky black veins and seem to pulse under his skin. He gently crawls onto the bed, being careful not to wake you as he cages you with his body.
Leaning down so that his nose is nearly pressed against the side of your neck, he breathes in your scent deeply, opening his mouth slightly to lick his sharpened incisors with his tongue. He moves away from your neck, staring down at you as he watches your chest rise and fall gently as you slumber. Unable to help himself, he leans back down, his lips hovering above yours when he hears the unmistakable sound of the front door opening downstairs.
His head snaps towards the stairs, crawling off your bed with the grace and stealth of a panther. He brings his hood back up over his head, walking silently over to the open window at the head of the stairs where he had let himself in, climbing out and shutting the window carefully behind him, not leaving a single trace that he was even there.
Part 2
629 notes · View notes
delulustateofmind · 22 days ago
Text
Thinking about cult leader geto and poor non sorcerer captive that he keeps for entertainment :(
warnings: Monster toys, cult leader geto, somewhat captive reader, dubcon, petname: pup. Unedited/brain dump. Off to horny jail after this one.
He can't be caught fucking some nonsorcerer monkey so he goes to other methods.
Currently, has you faced down on the bed, hips raised high with his arm wrapped around securely around your waist to keep you steady and prevent any attempts from squirming away.
Leaning in, his voice sharp with condescension coated with sweet honey, he sneers softly into your ear, "You're doing exactly what you were made for. Just breathe and obey, yeah? Serving your leader, your god—is all you're good for."
As he dips a thick, fat dildo passed your sodden folds and deep into your poor cunt. Geto would never dirty himself with your pussy so he has to use other methods to see the way your eyes roll back before closing shut. The way your soft lips part with heavy breaths and moans as he inches the toy into your poor pussy that has been played with for way too long today.
Suguru isn't exactly nice with his playthings, don't ya know? :)
He honestly can't tell if he likes this toy, thick and girthy with a knot at the end that he's certain won't fit tonight. Or if he enjoyed the one earlier that had soft barbs poking out. Both of them left you a drooling mess, muttering sweet thank yous to him as you sucked his fingers clean. Hell, you'd even suck the toys clean when he was done. Looking up at him all blissed out and dumb, begging to be his little bitch. Pathetic truly.
However, he still enjoyed it. Pushing you past your limits.
Suguru is as slow and methodical about it. Cooing softly about how good you're being, about how this is your purpose, serving him.
"Such a good girl" A velvet purr slips from his lips as his grip tightens around your waist. As he begins to pick up speed. Those sweet wet sounds filling the temple walls. "Mind telling me what that feels like? Use your words, c'mon. Don't make me ask twice."
You could only babble out something, unsure what words could even form at this point. This is the third...no, fourth toy, he's tested this evening. Thankful it wasn't a vibrating one this time. You were surely dehydrated by this point from how much you've came the last few hours. You could feel the toy reaching past your breaking point before he began to press sweet kisses on the nape of your neck.
"Ah...squeezing too tight, it keeps wanting to slip out. That's no good" he hummed softly, voice tinged with disappointment. As he tries to press the think, girthy toy deep inside again, only for your walls to tighten around the intrusion. Forcing the toy out once again.
"Didn't know you could be such a bad pup," he drawls as his grip tightens along your waist, anchoring you to him. "Pushing it out like that? Guess I'll have to punish you again," a wicked smirk forming on his lips as his voice lightens to something more teasing "Youre making me think you like this sort of thing, naughty little pup. Is that it? Hm?"
You whine as you feel him drag the toy out of your cunt, a string of your juices attached as he gently sets it on the bed. Your gaze settles on the shaft, nine inches with a huge knot that couldn't get passed your folds. The toy he's been working on your cunt for the past hour. The tool that was the thing stretching your walls, making your mind all fuzzy. You couldn't think straight, fucked too dumb to even witness the way your master's robes are falling to the floor and an angry pink dripping tip is pressed along the slit of your abused leaking pussy that was gaping, in search of something to ache that feeling in your core.
"I guess we all fall for filth at some point," he mutters softly to himself, the words dripping with disdain. His grip tightens as his dark eyes flick down to meet yours, cold and unrelenting. Leaning in closer, his voice drops to a chilling whisper, a cruel smirk tugging at his lips.
"Tell anyone, or even think about making a move, and your family is dead. Got it, sweetheart?" The mock endearment twists like a knife, his tone sickeningly sweet yet utterly devoid of mercy. As his hips meet yours, causing you to see stars as he bottoms out, drool staining the bedsheets as his cock fills you whole.
Guess you'll just have to be a good little pup, don't you? :(
157 notes · View notes
rosaline-black · 6 months ago
Note
i saw u we’re looking aaron blurb requests!!!
reader who has regular or somewhat regular nose bleeds, and aaron who learns how to treat them or even knows when they’re about to come on. basing this of my personal experience with a friend who somehow knows when i’m going to have a nosebleed before i do 😂
Tumblr media
A napkin is being shoved up your nostril before you’ve even managed to finish your sentence about cult leaders and their usual childhoods. Not by you though, the familiar cologne isn’t lost on you.
“They usually grow up without any control, absent or abusive father, showing traits of skittishness oh-“
Broad knuckles come into view and the first noise that graces your ears (other than the resigned panting from your lover) is a range of reacting laughter.
“Hah! Bossman wiping your nose for you?”
Before you can even quip back at Morgan’s smug retort Hotch has beaten you to it.
“No Bossman is stopping blood from pouring down a fellow agents white blouse…”
Hotch creeps closer his lips inches from the shell of your ear, damn him and his minty breath “the blood isn’t letting up honey you should follow me next door”
The pair of you do a sort of awkward side shuffle. Pairs upon pairs of beady eyes follow along, if the local police didn’t take you seriously before they certainly won’t now. Your dale cooper lookalike, the definition of authority now being reduced to a human blood mop.
With your eyes squeezed shut Hotch closes the door behind the pair of you, leaving you alone in one of the stations storage closets. Talking is tricky but you attempt to shoo away the attention he’s paying you, as fond as it makes you feel “Aar-Agent hotchner really I’m quite alright…”
“We’re alone you know… formalities don’t apply..”
God if the team could see how whipped he had become. Even at your grossest, the remnants of a nose bleed tickling your lips and a your hair tousled messily but not in the hot 90s rom com way, he still looks at you like you hung the stars.
“I’m trying to remain professional, you might as-well have picked me up bridal style and carried me through the station…”
The devilish smirk that curls upon his face is sickeningly handsome, and the expression of pure warmth that you’re emitting isn’t helping Mr g-man feel any less confident.
“Thanks for giving me a step to add to my plan next time this happens” There is only fondness in your eye roll.
If it wasn’t for Rossi’s incessant knocking and murmured groans along the lines of “stop your canoodling we have a cult to bust”, the two of you would have stayed there in the bleach scented storage cupboard for the rest of time, just staring at each other.
“You sure you’re alright?” Ever the worrier your Hotch. Even though you both know these nosebleeds are a regular occurrence and after many a doctor’s appointment (scheduled by Aaron) it has been down to sensitives to climates, you still indulge his query. Anything to smooth the crease between his brow.
“Yes… I’m perfectly fine…” a hand squeeze, and a dip of his neck, you’re about to kiss-
“CULT. BUST. COME ON LOVERS”
Rossi the ultimate cockblock.
286 notes · View notes
transmutationisms · 9 months ago
Note
i would love to hear more about your criticisms of the BITE model! for me it always feels.. unfalsifiable? it seems to do poorly at distinguishing a cult from any other community, if you squint at the definitions
yeah so first of all i'm not particularly keen on even trying to defend the category of "cult" in general. obviously abuse and control methods can and do happen in groups, but i don't think it's particularly useful to talk about this like there's a strict dichotomy between evil malicious groups and all the others. and i think generally, when people do try to sort groups into strict categories like that, what you actually see is that the differentiating factor is less to do with the degree of control exerted by the group and more to do with how much the person doing the sorting is bothered by the group's ideology or doctrinal commitments lol. like, this is sort of baby's first cult concept critique but yknow, a group setting where you're being extremely openly financially controlled is your job and yet most workplaces, however abusive and surveilled and controlling, are not typically designated a 'cult' unless they're also peddling some kind of heterodox religious or medical claims or something.
anyway in regards to BITE in particular, yeah i think it does a really poor job of distinguishing between a 'normal' level of social pressure to say/do certain things, and the kind of control that ostensibly characterises a cult. for example steven hassan has called both MAGA and online trans communities cults, and a lot of this comes down to his persistent and pretty open belief in the power of 'mind control' and hypnosis as mechanisms of cult control. ofc any group of any political persuasion could engage in abuse and high-control of its members! usually this occurs by financial means, social isolation, etc. but hassan's BITE model isn't really good at identifying these kinds of material factors despite paying lip service to them, because it's more motivated by his desire to root out these kinds of shadowy quasi-occult forces of mental reprogramming that he fears.
i just find the whole model to be pretty silly and used mostly as a way of justifying dislike of lots of different social, religious, and political groups---some of which are genuinely mistreating members, some of which are just saying things their critics disagree with---because it's perceived as a reliable social-scientific designation and therefore name-dropping it helps the speaker feel that they're making some kind of objective scientific observation rather than a judgment dependent, as are all judgments, upon their own perspective and values. i think instead of this kind of haggling over Which Groups Count As An Evild Shadowy Cult it would be infinitely more productive and helpful to vulnerable people to talk about how high-control groups operate, what sorts of methods specific groups are using to control and abuse their members, and what sorts of resources those members are dependent on the groups for and need access to from other sources: financial and material provisions, social support networks, etc.
444 notes · View notes