#Did You Get It? Did You Get The Moral Superiority High Over Claiming Both Sides Are Bad. Did You Get The Rush

[prezs]

brother after seeing the current election results i am not even fazed anymore. like at this point i'm just gonna ride the next four years out and focus on my local community

[theminecraftbee]

alright, so, one more thing i've been thinking about during all of this, and apologies, because i normally try to keep my blog fairly discourse-free in the grand scheme of things. but.

there are hermitcraft fans who act irritatingly morally superior about this fandom. i think it's out of some impulse to try to distance yourselves from any other mcyt fandom. it needs to stop.

the worst behavior during the polls was from the hermitcraft fans.

period.

there were so many instances of hermitcraft fans accusing the other side of cheating, of hermitcraft fans making attacks on the character of their guy's opponents, i have heard what i HOPE are isolated reports of racism in the grian/quackity fight (it was genuinely impossible to keep up with the blog's notes that round without both going into a death spiral thanks to the horrible behavior of scar fans during techno/scar and also without losing track instantly of where we were due to the frankly insurmountable volume of notes, so i did not see it, but unfortunately i fully believe it). i have seen people receiving awful asks - saw people being accused of 'betraying' the hermitcraft side due to voting for quackity or techno, for example.

and for a fandom that likes to act like it's better than the other guys, well. the dsmp fans were generally very well behaved in comparison. (shoutout, for example, to quackblr - i saw maybe one or two possible instances of bad behavior, but for as intense as you all were, you all were normally mostly just retaliatory towards whatever energy was thrown at you.) it wasn't supposed "outsiders coming in" that was doing this bad behavior, either.

folks, you can't blame the dsmp when the problem is inside the house. you can't blame twitter users when you're doing it here. you can't blame the reddit when you're the ones throwing the first death threats.

get off your high horses. we're all mcyt fans. we're all having the same fun. get off your high horses. you can hardly claim we're entirely all "unproblematic" when keralis accepted a sponsorship from the wizard game and xisuma periodically gets another round of getting shouted down over something he said on xisumasays. get off your high horses. you can't claim we're the accepting, good behavior fandom, unlike those other guys, when you're the ones causing the problems.

now, as always, i'm sure this is a law of large numbers thing to some extent. as technoblade, wise as he is, said: sometimes when you get a large enough group, you're going to have a few serial killers. but for the amount that hermitblr likes to act better than Those Other Minecraft Fandoms, and those Other Fandom Websites, it wasn't those guys that made me cry.

to be clear, the majority of you have been well-behaved. but there's a persistent tendency in this fandom to act strangely morally superior to other fandoms. and, y'all? you aren't.

you just aren't.

and the sooner you acknowledge that, the less likely this is to happen again, because once you admit that yeah, we can be toxic too? that's when you can start actually looking at yourself and trying not to be.

anyway, sorry again to make this post. i don't want to be a downer, hence why, outside of the official mod statements of "chill the fuck out", i didn't make this until now. (it also helps that i wanted to wait until i was no longer furious, upset, and death spiraling.) i have seen a lot of the best of this fandom over the past two weeks! i've just also, unfortunately, seen some of the worst, and feel the need to make this statement because it's just... been eating at me.

i don't want this to continue to be a trend. i think we can do better. do so.

[horizonsstandstill]

Cop city too. Subsidising big oil as well. The imperialist project inside. Anti homeless laws. Lack of healthcare access to trans and GNC people. Disabled people dying due to lack of COVID policies. Historical high police brutality rates. Inhumane border law. Increased incarceration of Black people and prison slavery. Indigenous land destruction for environmentally suicidal extraction industry. Surveillance state and brutal censorship. If you want to see a fascist look at everyone who supported KOSA.

What do we expect from a guy who has been behind several segregationist policies and who wanted to wage war on Iraq before Bush Jr. did? The lies that are called state propaganda is at Bush Jr. levels already. The ones who think that we have a democracy left to save are deluding themselves, buried un white privilege and imperialist self righteousness. What will voting change if people pick between two mass murderers one being a genocide happy geriatric fascist who ignores every evil act he is deliberately committing against innocent people of all kinds and the other being an overt fascist who openly declares hatred and wages war on everything good?

Biden is not the only one to blame. Those who support him and bully other people into doing that because "Trump is worse" are also to blame. Their love for status quo is above any morality if they have it, and yet they blame people for having clear principles. At least the red fascists are coherent and less hypocritical about their hatred of others and desire to keep their privileges. Blue fascists are the worst hypocrites for pretending that fascism hasn't been unleashed upon us all. What they are implicitly saying is that "You all have to care about my comfort regardless of how much I ignore yours, and of course all the calls for decency."

Funny thing is that they think they are smart, when all they do is to attempt converting people into their own partisanship without any convincing arguments. The logic dictates that in a failing economy where the cost if living is not manageable, with highrocketing rents and betrayal about the promised increase in minimum wage; along with the government splurging on a genocidal campaign that 70 percent of population regards with contempt, then suppressing all the dissent through violence while trying to make believe with propaganda that everything is fine and nothing is going to change if you vote blue, you are going to fail. Spectacularly. That's how Hitler came to power. And we don't blame German left enough for not doing anything to improve the lives of people instead of sitting on their asses and violently subduing protests. The only difference is that we already have Hitler in power and the next election is framed as us having a choice between different flavours of Hitler. A third choice might not be able to stop us from getting a Hitler elected, but it will make a statement. "We don't want a Hitler governing us, we won't accept it and you're not alone.". It's a start if nothing. Whoever wins we lose anyway, and that might be a signal to self claimed progressives to become actually progressive.

As a side note, Trump making America a dictatorship type of fear mongering is a little unrealistic. There's a huge dislike among Republicans towards him that cannot be ignored and the over white supremacist demographic is shrinking at a fast rate. These racists will never be able to win over enough Black and Latine support to keep any white supremacist authoritarian regime going, and they won't be able to suppress riots if they erupt.

The curious question is whether the status quo loving white privilege deniers that are walking around as liberals will pick the imperialist side or the progressive side. Regardless, they will be ineffective in their support because they have this contempt going on with either side and a weird superiority complex with nothing solid to base it upon. My bet is that they will start blaming both sides for not picking their flavour of genocidal imperialism and that's why nobody is living like they lived(?) in the good(?) old days.

I am so sick and tired of seeing all these “I know biden is bad, I know biden has done some bad things but vote for biden because trump will destroy our democracy” posts bc a) clearly our democracy is a sham and b) STOP DEFENDING BIDEN, STOP DOWNPLAYING WHAT HE HAS DONE! you do not need to, nor should you, defend biden to any degree. you can say that we cannot let trump win without that other bullshit. biden is pure evil, he is scum. and part of what makes him so horrendous and disturbing is the charade he puts on like he’s the good guy and trump is the evil, the bad to his good. quite literally the only thing that he has going for him is that his opponent is somehow even worse than him. that his opponent has no pretense of even trying to act like he doesn’t want to fully be a dictator. stop fucking defending biden. stop fucking downplaying all the horrendous, despicable, evil things he has done and is continuing to do. he is fully funding and supporting and enabling a genocide. it helps no one.

and if/when biden loses, he only has himself to blame.

ideally we would all rally behind a third party candidate and the electoral college wouldn’t exist. ideally these wouldn’t be our “choices”. idfk what to do because trump cannot win but how can any of us in good conscience vote for biden’s evil, fascistic, decrepit ass ??

what makes biden so different from or better than trump? nothing!!

- he is unconditionally supporting netanyahu and his genocide of Palestinians

- democrats have done nothing to protect nor help us as roe v. wade was overturned, we still have student loan debt, the cost of living is unaffordable and the minimum wage remains unchanged, biden has increased police presence and funding for police (more so than in 2020, despite the eruption of BLM protests and the murder of George Floyd and his promise to George Floyd’s family that he wouldn’t let his murder become just another number, another hashtag), and so. much. more.

- biden is building off of trump’s policies - specifically and most recently, biden has just announced an executive order to deny asylum requests. the increase in police funding and the further militarization of police was also built off of trump’s policies

the u.s. is an evil sham of a country.

as ethel cain said …

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL

May 2021 Wk 4

Being a highly subjective assessment of one tiny corner of the interwebs.

Ongoing Series - Thai

Close Friend Ep 6 fin: (Imagine You/KimmonCopter) - Fan gets a VR of his idol, they fall in love, but does it transfer to reality? A unique story and great casting of Kim & Cop into roles that stretched both actors. My favorite of the series and a good closer. Close Friend as a whole is so uneven I can’t recommend it, but individual episodes (3 MaxNat, 5 JimmyTommy, 6 KimCop) are okay.

Top Secret Together Ep 3 - no subs as yet but I still found it enjoyable. I like this series, it’s quiet. Sure, the only really unique touches are the office setting and the gay advice dads, but honestly I’LL TAKE IT. Of course my favorite couple is the hazer + freshie back at uni. What can I say? I’m a sucker for the old OLD tropes. (Should I just do a SOTUS+S rewatch this weekend to get it out of my system?) 

Y-Destiny Ep 9 - Look, I’m just not a fan of the rake archetype BUT my favorite combo for this is another player, and BL almost never does that. But ta da! Y-D wins with f-buds + high heat pulp (well I suppose this is university-set Cheewin). I don’t love honest-gay messy in a long haul series (Friendzone... shudder) but I don’t mind it in short form. So I think this may be my favorite installment in this series so far.

Fish Upon The Sky Ep 8 - *big fat sigh* I thought they were going to redeem Pi by having him be genuinely nice to Meen, but no it was all to do with a dumb pin. Even though he suffers from crazy stalking in this ep, I still don’t like Pi but I’m TOTALLY on his side. Is FUTS taking us on a light weight The Effect journey? Because at this juncture I think I’d prefer that. 

Nitiman Ep 4 - honestly it’s like Nitiman is vested in showing FOTS exactly what it’s doing wrong. Both shows introduced faen fatales this week. But Nitiman did theirs with a sympathetic character, genuine interest on both sides, bisexual confusion, and sweetness. In every way the opposite of (and superior to) FOTS. Even claiming, outing, and stalker characters are happening but treated differently. It’s like parallel universes. Not sure how I feel about the ending kiss though. Still, this is my favorite currently airing show. I look forward to @heretherebedork explaining to me my own feelings and why I want to forgive Bbomb the kiss but not Mork for anything. Since I’m evidently morally hypocritically confused. 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Love is Science? (Taiwan) Ep 10 (BL subplot) - Taiwan is experiencing a C19 surge right now so this series will be delayed at least 20 days. 

Be Loved in House: I Do (Taiwan) Ep 3 - dropped with subs thank heavens, all the usual tropes when you pair grumpy + tsundere: challenges, bets, crashing into beds, veiled threats... oh my! Gay boys in stripped sweaters giving advice in cafes is my new favorite thing. It’s the BL version of the “bartender is my psyche” trope. Still finding the boss character creepy. About Hank Wang (plays Shi Lei) anyone else obsessed with his sanpaku eyes? Just me? Fair. Also he keeps reminding me of Pluem Purim, I have no idea why. Something in the mannerisms, I think. They don’t really look alike. (This show may also be delayed.)

My Lascivious Boss (Vietnam) Ep 8 - continues to be good, we now have 2 faen fatales, blackmail, worried friends, and the secret identity slowly devolving. Looks like we get at least two more episodes and could be as many as 12? Very much enjoying this show. 

Most Peaceful Place 2 (Vietnam) Ep 3 (AKA 6) fin - it was fine, they always rush the ending a bit in Vietnamese BL. I found the first season much stronger than this second one over all. But since they aired in the same year and there’s only six total I feel like they should be judged as a whole. So I guess I’ll say, RECOMMENDED with serious pacing issues and some plot drag particularly in the second half. 

Gossip 

The cast of Until We Meet Again met together, ostensibly for their own amusement but speculation is that it has something to do with Between Us AKA Hemp Rope. 

Breaking News

Singto’s next starring role BL got announced Paint With Love. Between him and Ohm, they seem to be attempting to corner the market. I’m in favor. Singto plays Met, a wedding organizer, who hires Phap, a poor artist, to work on a wedding painting. Phap messes something up and ends up having to work for Med on a more permanent basis. Yet another office set BL from Thailand, following in Japan and Taiwan’s well suited footsteps... we hope. Phap is played by Tae (the original Forth in 2 Moons). No side dishes announced as yet. 

Pornographer Playback is airing, the third in the series from Japan (first 2 = The Pornographer AKA The Novelist & Mood Indigo). Not recommended unless you want non-BL gay cinema with high heat, and don’t mind the mess Japan always doles out to go with it. Such as: morally flexible characters, crass manipulation, gaslighting, cheating, seduction of a minor, so much smoking, het porn, and ambiguous, sad, or depressing endings. Part one of this final installment has dropped, part two is not yet available. No subs (even if they say they have them, they’re autiogen nonsense.) 

Next Week Looks Like This:

Some shows may be listed later than actual air date for International accessibility reasons.

Things are looking dire. What will we do with our lives? 

Upcoming 2021 BL master post here.

Links to watch are provided when possible, ask in a comment if I missed something.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Three Gates - on ao3 (for content warnings check Ao3) - on tumblr: pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5, pt 6, pt 7, pt 8, pt 9

- Chapter 10 -

Everyone did believe that Meng Yao had been robbed in love. It even got to the point that Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen – both somehow taken by surprise by it, he had no idea how, given that it was so obviously the result he was aiming for – spent a great deal of time behind doors trying to make sure Meng Yao didn’t feel bad about it, which was very nice, if unnecessary, of them.

He assured them that he didn’t mind the gossip at all, but, well, if they were offering to spoil him…

More importantly, Wen Ruohan believed it, too, just as he’d hoped, and his belief that Meng Yao belonged to him was shored up to the point of being nigh-unbreakable, just as Meng Yao had intended. His comments on the subject, made in a small break during a Discussion Conference when Nie Mingjue was enduring a lecture from Lan Qiren, were sticky sweet and suffocating and revolting to the point that it tested even Meng Yao’s well-practiced façade.

Interestingly enough, Wen Ruohan didn’t seem to be jealous of the relationship, or even to mind its existence, as Meng Yao would have expected given his now years-long obsession. Unfortunately, he also didn’t stop his usual antics – which probably formed part of the basis for Lan Qiren’s lecture, come to think of it. He seemed to regard it as little more than a childish lark, a passing whim scarcely worth noticing; as if it didn’t matter what Nie Mingjue did because he knew, or thought he knew, how everything would end.

It was, Meng Yao reflected, the sort of thing that would drive a lesser man up the wall with rage.

Wen Ruohan did express a mild curiosity as to how far things between Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen had gone, but luckily was just barely self-aware enough not to ask the supposedly jilted Meng Yao to find out more details for him.

As a result, Meng Yao was able to nod along with his recruitment speech without having to swallow back too much bile.

“You’ve always been very kind to me, Sect Leader Wen,” he said, his voice as sincere as he could make it. “I find that I’m often overlooked, given my status, though of course Sect Leader Nie’s needs must come first…”

“That is not necessarily true,” Wen Ruohan hummed. “You are just as worthy as he, with as many needs; are you not human, too? Why should you be the one overlooked?”

“Qinghe Nie values strength of arms,” Meng Yao demurred. “And mine is – lacking. There can be no comparison.”

“It must be difficult to be somewhere where you don’t fit in,” Wen Ruohan said sympathetically, as if he had any notion of such a thing. “Especially when you know there are places where you would fit in much better, if only you had a chance.”

Meng Yao heaved a sigh. “I have long ago given up hope of – other places,” he said, dropping obvious hints with his body language that the hope was merely dashed, not gone. “One should be content with one’s place.”

“Never be content with anything,” Wen Ruohan told him, his own voice slightly more sincere than usual, and it might be the only honest thing the man had ever said to him. His own personal motto, no doubt. He dropped his hand on Meng Yao’s shoulder. “Perhaps you should make more time for yourself – there are some areas in Qishan where you could go night-hunting to earn some glory, and I think you would find the game there to your liking. Especially, oh, around the end of the month?”

Meng Yao allowed himself a small victorious smile, and let Wen Ruohan think that he had convinced him that he had wanted the recruitment all along – a perfect catch, after years of setting out lures.

“That sounds like an excellent suggestion,” he said, and even meant it. “My skills have grown rusty, staying in the office so much…though I only fear I do not know the way. You know that Sect Leader Nie does not trust me at the border.”

He did, of course, but what would be the point of sending him there? Meng Yao’s skill was in logistics and management; while that was useful in active battle it would be utterly wasted in patrolling their well-armed borders to help pep up morale. But it was easy enough to make it appear to be a slight.

“You are capable of doing anything you put your mind to,” Wen Ruohan said encouragingly. “But you are right in acknowledging limits, and should not fear to turn to – capable guidance, when you find difficulty in finding your own way.”

Meng Yao lowered his eyes, full of triumph – for real, this time. “I am honored that Sect Leader Wen is willing to instruct me.”

Wen Ruohan patted him on the shoulder again, then went off his own way. Meng Yao turned to do the same, and abruptly saw Lan Wangji standing in the distance, looking out a window at the sky; it gave him a start, wondering if the younger man had seen. Hopefully not, or at least he’d hopefully know to keep his mouth shut – Meng Yao would have to go feel him out later.

The work never ended, he thought to himself with a sigh, and returned to Nie Mingjue’s side before his sect leader broke something trying to keep his mouth shut while talking to Lan Xichen’s uncle about righteous conduct, a subject on which the Lan sect seemed to think they had the final say and on which Nie sect principles were wildly and fundamentally different.

(Lan Wangji seemed to act the same as always when Meng Yao talked to him later – which was to say, virtually expressionless except for whatever it was that Lan Xichen claimed he could read in his posture, and still hilariously distractable with news of Wei Wuxian, who he’d met for all of a few months during the lessons in the Cloud Recesses that Nie Huaisang had finally passed – and that was a relief. The less Meng Yao had to think about what he was doing when he wasn’t actively doing it, the better.)

Getting permission – and publicly – to go out night-hunting was easy enough, since Nie Mingjue actively enjoyed slaughtering evil beasts for the good of mankind and thought that everyone else did too; he only needed to casually mention that it had been a while since he’d had time to go out to stretch his legs and Nie Mingjue immediately suggested that he go out on a night-hunt.

Convincing him not to come along with was slightly more difficult, especially when he mentioned that he’d heard some whispers of a demonic presence near the border with Qishan – Wen Ruohan was certainly demonic enough, in Meng Yao’s opinion – but with his position it wasn’t difficult to juggle the paperwork schedule to ensure that there was far, far too much work for Nie Mingjue to accompany him.

Arranging that Lan Xichen come to visit shortly before he left was an extra perk that Meng Yao included for both of them – for himself, getting to spend a wonderful day in the presence of someone infinitely more relaxing than Nie Mingjue, and for Nie Mingjue, getting to spend time on paperwork with someone infinitely more sympathetic than Meng Yao, who truly enjoyed the process of comparing long lists of received goods with each other to see if something was missing.

He’d miss Lan Xichen’s departure due to his night-hunt, but that was good, too – him going off to an atypical night-hunt would be understood by the majority of the cultivation world as a huffy retreat to avoid having to see his former lover and his superior together, and no one would think twice about it.

Once it was all set up, it was only a matter of waiting.

Wen Ruohan was confident in him, Meng Yao knew, and rightfully so: if he’d really been the person he’d been displaying in his presence since childhood, Wen Ruohan’s tricks would have snared him without question. A fool with an endless pit in his heart, greedy for affection and too stupid to be able to realize that no amount of glory would satisfy that greed, cunning but having no heart to see the bigger picture…dumb enough to agree to go meet Wen Ruohan, but smart enough to demand a measure of trust before he did.

A measure of trust – like the guide he’d insisted on.

Like the identify of whoever it was that had been so-cleverly dropping off all those letters, over all those years. Whoever it was had to have a considerable position in the Unclean Realm since the time Lao Nie had been in charge, and corrupted by Wen Ruohan since way back then; someone who had the freedom of the interior parts of the fortress, someone trusted, with good enough martial arts to avoid being spotted even when Meng Yao was specifically looking to identify them.

He’d run some tests and confirmed to his satisfaction that it seemed to be the same person each time, so there was only one high-level spy he needed to be concerned about – there were others, of course, but Meng Yao knew about those, and what he knew he could manage.

Or, well, Nie Zonghui could manage, he supposed. Nie Zonghui was technically the one in charge of managing personnel, or at least he was whenever he wasn’t stuck on some type of body-guarding duty – while they hadn’t shared classes due to the age gap between them, Nie Zonghui being older, Meng Yao knew that they’d had all the same ones, preparing them for much the same role. Between the two of them as advisors, Nie Zonghui was better suited for fighting and advising on situations involving imminent death, and they'd generally divided the work accordingly, but he was more than competent enough at managing spies and Meng Yao had handed the job off to him with great satisfaction. It worked very well.

Well, as long as Nie Zonghui didn’t turn out to be the traitor, anyway.

Meng Yao sincerely hoped he wasn’t. Nie Zonghui’s hobby was learning saber forms, and he spent all his free time on it to the point that he made Nie Mingjue’s training schedule look reasonable – Nie Mingjue was still the more powerful of the two, but only because he had ridiculously high cultivation for someone his age.

(That high cultivation had made his position as sect leader secure and allowed him to earn a name and a title and respect throughout the cultivation world, but Meng Yao wasn’t the only one that worried about how Nie sect cultivators died of qi deviation once they got too powerful. But Nie Mingjue was fairly stable for the moment, despite his rapid advancement, and Lan Xichen had devoted himself to trying to find a way to keep it that way – Meng Yao thought he might allow himself some room to hope.)

It turned out that the traitor wasn’t Nie Zonghui.

It was Wu Bixian, one of the army commanders, which was not quite as bad but only slightly.

Wu Bixian was from a smaller sect very close to Qinghe, a part of the Nie clan by marriage to one of the closer cousins. He was a good warrior, a tolerable commander, and had once had the occasion to save Lao Nie’s life in their youth together – he had been in a position of trust for a long time. He was wealthy, in the way most members of the Nie sect were with the sect’s treasury at their back and night-hunts to their name (Nie Mingjue’s comment as a child that the money ran free and easy once you started night-hunting wasn’t wrong) and he had a good wife, a few children, a saber of his own, moderately strong cultivation that was slowly gaining in strength…He had never shown any interest in acquiring more power than he had, no lust for domination, nothing like that.

He seemed content.

He was one of the ones that made snide comments about Meng Yao’s mother and had initially tried to refuse to take Meng Yao’s orders, even the ones that came straight from Nie Mingjue, until Nie Mingjue had personally told him to cut it out or else accept a demotion in favor of someone who could follow orders, but given how early the letters had started landing on Meng Yao’s desk, his betrayal must have happened far earlier than that incident and could not be the inciting factor.

Meng Yao had no idea what sort of things had Wen Ruohan offered to turn him, but whatever it was, he hoped Wu Bixian had enjoyed it while it lasted because he was going to kill him.

“It is kind of Commander Wu to take time out of his day to assist me,” he murmured, lowering his eyes to hide his rage even as his voice remained sweet and gentle.

“Sect Leader Nie wanted to make sure you were safe,” Wu Bixian said, and for half a second there Meng Yao wondered if it had been some sort of terrible miscommunication because he could see Nie Mingjue doing that, but then Wu Bixian continued, “I thought it would be good for someone like you to have a proper guide to teach you.”

If he had used anything like that language around Nie Mingjue, he wouldn’t have been allowed to come help, and that meant that Wu Bixian was in fact the right contact.

“I will follow in your footsteps,” Meng Yao said, still playing cautious. He saw a smirk steal over the other man’s face, smug and arrogant, and they left without another word between them.

With Commander Wu with him, finding a place to cross the territory line into Qishan without being spotted was easy – and worrisome, of course – and it wasn’t long before they arrived at the forest glade where Wen Ruohan was waiting for them.

His retainers had already set up a place for them to take tea, with him sitting above and them below, and even his traveling chair resembled the throne to which Wen Ruohan believed himself to be entitled.

Before they left the woods, Wu Bixian elbowed Meng Yao in the side, hard. “None of the backtalk you sometimes give Sect Leader Nie,” he instructed. “You ought to count yourself as very lucky that Sect Leader Wen has come himself to meet with you – he puts a high priority on the affairs of Qinghe Nie.”

That meant that Wu Bixian thought himself better than Wen Ruohan’s other spies in other territories, which were probably only good enough to report to a Wen disciple, or maybe Wen Xu if they were especially prominent.

Arrogance was good. Meng Yao could use arrogance.

He knelt in front of Wen Ruohan, giving him the deference he longed for – he’d only ever knelt to Nie Mingjue once, when he’d sworn an oath to him as part of becoming an official disciple of the Nie sect, and it had been outrageously awkward for them both – and Wen Ruohan smiled.

“You made a wise choice,” he said. “Qinghe Nie will not remain standing and independent for much longer. Only those that realize the truth will have a chance to influence the future.”

“Sect Leader Wen’s strength is undeniable,” Meng Yao said, because his mother taught him how to say the words that men wanted to hear. His mother as she used to be, before Sisi came back into her life and made her happy – his mother, who now spent some time being mistress of Qinghe, some time traveling, some time merely visiting other places with Sisi at her side; his mother, who asked him if he was happy with Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen, who accepted his answer and sought to aid him as much as she could; his mother, who loved him, well if not always wisely. “I do not wish to be on a sinking boat when I could join the rising tide.”

There was a bit more of that, mostly mutual ego-stroking and puffery, but finally Wen Ruohan got to the point: “What is it that you want?”

“My rightful inheritance,” Meng Yao said, because it was the safest thing to ask for. He didn’t really care if Wen Ruohan got rid of Jin Guangshan, after all, and Nie Huaisang’s reports hadn’t been especially positive in regards to Jin Zixuan – Wen Ruohan would probably just disinherit him in favor of Meng Yao, and leave him alive to cause Meng Yao too many problems to have time to rebel. And it was much safer than asking for anything else. “The venerable Sect Leader Wen is above such petty matters as gossip, of course, but he undoubtedly already knows…my father…”

“The Jin sect is a pearl of great value,” Wen Ruohan said lazily. “Do you think your service can justify such a reward?”

“I am sure of it,” Meng Yao said, full of confidence.

“And there’s nothing else you want?”

Meng Yao hesitated, having not anticipated that question the way he had others, and Wen Ruohan laughed to see him. “I told you before not to be content,” he said with a smile Meng Yao did not trust. “You have chosen wisely to trust in the power of the sun, and in the heat of its rays, from the ashes of the old ways, too stiff in their rules to change, you will be rewarded with your heart’s desire.”

Meng Yao smiled. “I await your excellency’s benevolence with eagerness, to give me light where I have been blind.”

He bowed and took his leave, heading back to Qinghe with the heads of some fierce corpses to show as the results of his hunt – Wen Ruohan was thoughtful, in some ways – and left Wu Bixian behind to discuss further matters to which Meng Yao was still too new to hear: an excellent people management stratagem to whet Meng Yao’s jealousy of Wu Bixian’s position, while also assuaging any concerns Wu Bixian had regarding his primacy.

The second he was out of sight, he pulled Chiwen out of the qiankun pouch he’d tucked into his sleeve – sabers generally disliked small places like that, but Chiwen had always been extremely understanding of the indignities one had to suffer to achieve greatness – and threw him down, leaping on top of him and hurrying forward at break-neck speed, and even so he only just barely managed to catch Lan Wangji before he disappeared back into the woods.

(He hadn’t realized that Lan Wangji was suspicious at first, despite him having coming willingly to the Unclean Realm alongside Lan Xichen and being even less social than usual; it wasn’t until that very morning, when he’d murmured some denial about having plans for the day – and Lan Wangji always had plans for the day – that Meng Yao had realized that he might need to keep an eye out for a tail.)

Lan Wangji was stiff as a board, his hand already sliding to Bichen on his waist; Meng Yao ignored it.

“You need to go back to the Cloud Recesses,” he said. “As soon as possible.”

Lan Wangji paused. “Why?”

“Because Wen Ruohan is going to burn it down,” Meng Yao said flatly. “The Lan sect doesn’t have the ability to stop him, but if you go now, you can pack away your sect’s most valued treasures and hide them away somewhere safe before they do.”

“Why?” Lan Wangji asked again, still wary, only this time he meant why are you telling me this.

“Because you have to make sure Lan Xichen isn’t there,” Meng Yao said. “He’ll hate it and he’ll fight having to run away with every ounce of will he has, but he can’t be there – or else everything will be so much worse.”

“Sect Leader Wen told you?”

“He all but promised me Lan Xichen as a prize for my cooperation.” Lan Wangji flinched, and Meng Yao nodded grimly. “Make sure he has a safe place to go. The Nie sect will come to your aid, nominally, but the real purpose will be to make it seems as though the Wen sect has defeated two Great Sects in one blow – it will be devastating to the morale of the smaller sects, and convince many of them to just give in to Wen domination rather than fight back...listen, come up with whatever reason you have to in order to convince them, but don't explain where you learned of the information. You understand?”

Lan Wangji nodded slowly. “You plan to spy.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Meng Yao said, because he was far beyond planning at this point. But he knew, as Lan Wangji might not, that the elders of the Lan sect would never listen to Sect Leader Jin's bastard son or Sect Leader Nie's aide, so recently jilted in love - they weren't like Nie Mingjue or Lan Xichen, who would understand. “Listen, empty the Library Pavilion in advance, wait until they’ve started burning the other buildings, and then set fire to it yourself. If you defend it as if it’s full, maybe you can convince the Wen sect that they’ve done more damage than they really have.”

He shook his head – he’d been hoping to have more time, but the winds of war always came more swiftly than hoped. “Good luck, travel fast, and above all tell no one.”

[the-odd-job]

Up in Flames chapter 18 - Sink the Blade (Ashes Part 2)

Warnings: Major Character Death, Chose Not to Use Category: Other Fandom: Transformers Relationships: Megatron/Sunstreaker, Megatron/Sideswipe, Sideswipe & Sunstreaker Characters: Sunstreaker, Tracks, Sideswipe Additional Tags: Dubcon, Mechpreg, Sticky, Canon Typical Violence Words: 3167

I miss the bad things The way you hate me I miss the screaming The way that you blame me

I miss the rough sex Leaves me a mess I miss the feeling of pains in my chest Miss the phone calls When it's your fault I miss the late nights Don't miss you at all

— Halestorm – I Miss the Misery

( Previous )

Fuck.

That summarized the whole situation pretty well, didn’t it? Sunstreaker thought it did.

He had never thought too highly about the Autobots. He had belonged to the faction, sure, but he was an arrogant bastard, and admittedly a pretty cold-hearted one at that. He’d always looked down on them to some extent, even when they were his comrades. He’d thought them weak and soft-sparked, not capable of doing what needed to be done. 

This? This didn’t need to be done, but at least they showed coldness perfectly comparable to his own. Sunstreaker killed without remorse and the Autobots had always called him bad for that. Maybe they’d feel remorse for this and thought that excused them as the morally superior beings.

Pits, it didn’t.

There was a moment of silence after his question—his challenge. It was Jazz who spoke up, showing no emotion when he simply said, “We could snuff the sparkling.”

Snuff the sparkling, when that was the very first option Sunstreaker had thought of when he’d first found out about it.

An option he’d fragging discarded. He hadn’t changed his mind about it either, or he could have done it himself at any point in time. It wasn’t like him to give a shit about the fact the sparkling was fully conscious by now. It was a life as worthless as all others.

But it was a life he had something to do with. If it was just because of the infernal protocols the Autobots were so obsessed with… He doubted it. That was just his frame. It wouldn’t affect his spark.

His spark cared about the fate of the sparkling too, though. Maybe not about the sparkling as an individual, but at least as the concept of something he had created (with a bit of help), that belonged to him, was part him—no matter how much Megatron laid claim on it too.

But the crux of the problem seemed to be just that: Megatron laid claim on it. Rightfully, but the Autobots only cared about the fact it was Megatron of all mecha. Anyone else and he was pretty sure they’d be just fine with the sparkling, even if he’d fraternized with the enemy to bring it to life. Some other enemy. 

It didn’t matter that he was, personally, rather happy with the sire, no matter how accidental the whole thing had been. Megatron was a powerful individual. Maybe not the… Kindest, or however you wanted to put it, but those were the types of details Sunstreaker wasn’t inclined to give a damn about. Strength of spark, mind, personality—that was what mattered.

And Megatron had all of that in spades. 

“What?!” He was the only one that looked shocked by the suggestion. Optimus had a sorrowful look in his optics; Prowl’s expression didn’t change. His wings didn’t so much as twitch. “You can’t do that!”

Was he a little hysterical? He felt a little hysterical when he hit the bars again, harder this time, before taking one step away from them.

It wouldn’t do him any good if they really wanted to do something to him, to it. He was perfectly stuck in the small cell. Putting all the distance of one step between them was no protection. 

“It is a last resort but it’s clear you are not listening–” Optimus started.

There was no fucking way Sunstreaker was going to let him finish. “I’m not listening? You’re not listening! It’s mine and you’re not slagging touching it!”

They’d talked about it. They had to have talked about it even before they’d come see him—maybe even before they’d even captured him. He could imagine it, all of the command gathering to discuss what to do about the sparkling and about Sunstreaker and the whole damn mess he’d gotten himself into, and then concluding he had to have no will separate from that forced on him by his coding, because how could he possibly want to stay with Megatron otherwise?

Anything he said, anything he did, they only twisted into more proof of that. 

Did Ratchet know about this?

“If you’re so worried about the goddamn protocols, why not just turn them off?” he growled at them. It was too easy to hide all other emotion beneath just anger. Oh, he was angry.

Fear wasn’t even a thing he rightly processed, but his spark was disquieted in a way it usually wasn’t. The feeling of inevitability wasn’t exactly comfortable, either.

The sparklet responded, naturally. Sunstreaker rubbed at his chestplates even as he stared at the Autobots.

“First Aid examined them–” Prowl said, looking down at the motion of his servo. Sunstreaker glared at him, but let his arm drop, “–And how did he put it? That your coding is ‘a house of cards ready to come down at any moment’? He feared that forcibly turning them off would render you nonfunctional.”

So fucking concerned about him, were they? Sunstreaker gestured violently with one hand. “Why not just straight up reprogram me if you really want my head to clear?” he hissed.

“That is also an option.”

He hadn’t actually expected them to go there. It had come up before—wiping him clean, installing new hardware, installing fresh new code, starting over from scratch. No memories, nothing left about the past him aside from his spark... Just to fix his glitch and undo everything his life had done to him. 

Maybe one day he’d want to go through with it just to give his spark another shot at life without everything being so goddamn traumatic it messed him up for good, but that day wasn’t here yet. He wasn’t about to agree to go through with it. Especially not if he’d have an inexplicable sparkling on the other side that he wouldn’t even remember igniting.

Provided they didn’t just snuff it even in that event. Then he wouldn’t ever know about it.

But just to turn off the protocols they seemed ready to consider even that. Snuff it, reprogram him, whatever else… Free him from Megatron’s influence once and for all, no matter the cost.

He cradled his helm in his servos as he sat on the small slab of a berth in the cell. The sparkling hadn’t calmed down one bit since all of this had begun, and he couldn’t blame it. He’d already nearly rubbed the paint straight off his chest before the uselessness of the gesture had fully sunk in. Only his spark itself could do anything to ease the sparklet’s emotions, and with how much his spark wasn’t calm and collected or anywhere near that, there was really slagall he could do to convince the sparkling that everything was alright and that everything was going to be fine.

Things weren’t alright and he couldn’t even promise they would be fine. The Autobots had left him alone for now aside from the one mech left to guard him, but who knew when and how they’d decide to act for his own good. He knew very well Megatron was on a warpath. He had known that from the beginning, but Sideswipe was there to see it firsthand.

The Autobots had to know as much too, though. They had to know their window of opportunity to “fix” things was closing quickly, that Megatron would waste no time in getting his sparkling back.

He didn’t particularly enjoy being a damsel in distress, but things didn’t always go how you wanted them to and he wasn’t going to get out without some help. Oh, out of the brig, sure, but he highly doubted the Autobots would just let him walk out.  

He wasn’t the only one feeling the sense of urgency, though. The Decepticons knew just as well as he did what the Autobots were ready to do, all thanks to Sideswipe.

And thanks to Sideswipe he knew they were hurrying. Stay alive. Both of you.

Probably an easy request to make when it came to his life. The Autobots didn’t seem eager to kill him. 

It, though? That was going to be harder if the Decepticons didn’t make it in time. 

It was laughable how upside down things had turned. First he was an Autobot fighting the Decepticons for the sake of fighting them, never showing any true inclination to switch sides. 

Then he’d made some questionable choices—he wouldn’t call them bad choices—and suddenly it was the Decepticons that were interested in his well being. Only on Megatron’s order because he was carrying the tyrant’s sparkling, but still. 

And there was Megatron, of course. There was their sex, their shared violence, the things they did to each other that the Autobots were so concerned about and didn’t care to understand or accept… There was their accord, forever without a shred of peace, but an agreement all the same.

There was the high and the thrill, the drug Megatron was that he couldn’t get enough of. He was as good as an addict, at this point.

There was the all-encompassing rightness of being around mecha that thought along the same tracks as he did, too.

Sunstreaker chuckled out loud, as unfunny as the situation was. But it was absurd. It was fucking absurd he wanted to the side of his former enemy just to escape his former friends.

He could hear his guard’s pedesteps before Tracks appeared on the other side of the cell’s bars. “What’s so funny?”

“Just thinking,” Sunstreaker said with all the calmness he didn’t feel, straightening on his seat of choice. “About friends and enemies and how those tables have turned a little bit.”

Tracks was quiet for a moment before he growled. “They should just execute you for defecting.”

Sunstreaker tilted his helm in his direction demurely. “I’m not a Decepticon yet, you know. The most I’ve done is abandon my post.”  

“‘Yet’,” Tracks repeated flatly.

“Yeah, well, this whole incident is making me rethink some things.”

“Uh-huh. As if it’s not enough you berthed Megatron. I think that’s enough to warrant a proper punishment.”

“Maybe. Doesn’t mean I plan to hang around for it.” How close to running out of time was he? When would the command be back with their decision?

Not soon enough, he hoped.

Sunstreaker rose to his pedes smoothly, stepping up to the bars. Tracks twitched like he was tempted to take a step back despite the barrier between them. Smart mech, after all the times Sunstreaker had kicked his aft. “So excuse me, but I’m leaving right about now.”

“What are you talking about?” Tracks asked suspiciously a second before the alarms blared to life.

Sunstreaker smiled. “I think my side just arrived.” And he better book it before someone got the idea of doing what they thought needed to be done before he could get the hell away from here.

The bars were high on energy, hot, searing, damaging. Despite that, Sunstreaker slipped his servos between two of them and pulled to both sides. He ignored the burn in his palms and digits, digging deeper and deeper into his armor… Stared straight into Tracks’ alarmed optics.

“The pit you’re doing..?” his fellow warrior asked in alarm, cut off when the bars blinked out of existence under the duress Sunstreaker placed on them.

“Design flaw,” he commented mildly as he stepped through, the energy bars recovering and closing back up right on his heels. “If you can handle a little pain… Well.” The results spoke for themselves, didn’t they? His palms were slag now despite the strength and resistance of his armor, but he could handle that.

Tracks went for his blaster, an option Sunstreaker didn’t have—an option he didn’t need. They were already in close quarters. Oh, gunshots would have hurt like a motherfucker at point blank like this, but he was a melee fighter.

All he needed to do was force Tracks into hand to hand to have very good chances against him. Sunstreaker proceeded to do that with long familiarity at disarming others for his own benefit, grappled the Autobot—redlined his engines before Tracks could do the same, overpowered him into stumbling.

There were several ways he could have gone about this, but what Sunstreaker chose was to grab his current opponent by the face, and–

Slam his helm against the wall with all the considerable force he could muster.

Then repeat that.

And repeat that.

Repeat.

Tracks made a pained, distressed sound from his vocalizer as his helmet first caved in, then caved in some more, and some more until it was pressing against his protoform.

Again, until his protoform was crushed similarly.

Again, until the blue mech’s helmet began to crumble.

Again, until it fell apart entirely.

Tracks was limp in his hold by the time Sunstreaker saw fit to drop him, the dent on the wall rather massive as well. He looked down at the mech falling at his pedes like a pathetic pile of junk, barely an undamaged component left of his helm—and there, among the wreckage, he could see Tracks’ processors, uncovered by the undoing of the helmet and protoform protecting it.

Intrigued, Sunstreaker reached down, picked it up, yanked it out… Held it in his servo for a moment, considered it... 

Before closing his fist around it, grinding a mech’s physical consciousness into nothing but pieces of scrap.

“Fix that,” he growled to himself. It wasn’t a kill, Tracks’ spark was still just fine—but the Autobots were sure to not have the resources to recreate an entire brain module. 

What did the humans call that state? A vegetable? Seemed appropriately derogatory.

It was close to a kill, though. It provided much of the same satisfaction, and the sparkling was vibrating in his chassis for reasons that had nothing to do with the danger they’d been in—and still possibly were, if the wrong mech intercepted him.

Bloodthirsty little thing, wasn’t it? Violence, death… It reveled in the emotion brought on by that.

Time to go, though. The brig door was locked, but that was nothing a bit more force wasn’t going to fix. The Ark was never meant to hold prisoners, at least not dangerous ones, the type that would get out when they wanted to get out. And he and Sideswipe, they had busted out of cells and brigs before. Not from this particular one, but others, and not prettily, but effectively. It wasn’t an entirely unfamiliar thing.

Sunstreaker jammed his digits into the center seam of the door, caving it inside until he could grab both halves of it and tore them to the sides. The halves broke apart, reluctantly, slowly, and he could feel the growing urgency, concern that someone was already on their way with bad intent.

Someone other than Sideswipe and his company. They had good intent.

He only opened the door enough that he could barely slip through. The halls of the Ark were familiar, and now, all but empty thanks to the diversion the other Decepticons were putting up. Sunstreaker set on a run down the corridors, taking the shortest route towards Sideswipe and the mecha with him—a team just big enough to blast their way through anyone who tried to stop them.

They hadn’t fought with the Decepticons before, and on principle they were not good team players… But Sideswipe and co were still doing just fine in forcing their way into the Ark, deeper and deeper into it.

Sunstreaker skidded another corner and nearly ran into someone red. It was the wrong red, though, and this red was alone. 

Ironhide blocked his path, looking rather surprised to see him. Had no one expected to see him running around? Fools.

“Out of my way,” he growled at the old mech when Ironhide didn’t simply let him go past him, instead moving to block him again. 

“Sunstreaker–” Ironhide started, but for the love of Primus he was done listening to anything the Autobots said at him. His growl and rev were loud enough to put a stop to anything Ironhide could have wanted to say.

“Out of my way.”

“Kid–”

“Sunny!” This time it was a voice behind Ironhide that interrupted him. Sunstreaker looked past him and Ironhide glanced behind him to see Sideswipe—and Vortex, and Skywarp, and Barricade. A little worse for wear, the lot of them, but still perfectly fighting fit.

There was no way Ironhide could have held off against all of them, especially surrounded as he was now, but they didn’t even get that far before Vortex grabbed one of his rotors off his back and threw it like a goddamn spear. Ironhide didn’t have the time to dodge and the apparently weaponized part of the copter impaled him through his abdomen.

Far from fatal, but it was enough to make Ironhide stumble—giving Sunstreaker the opportunity he needed. While running by he grabbed the rotor too, yanking it from Ironhide’s frame to another grunt and a pleasant gush of blood from the weapons specialist. Figures Vortex might want that back.

“Thanks,” the interrogator said to him once Sunstreaker reached them and handed it to him. It sounded like he was grinning, mask or no mask.

“Don’t mention it,” Sunstreaker responded flatly before Skywarp asked if everyone was ready, didn’t wait for an answer, and warped.

They reappeared a few feet above the ground right outside the Ark’s entrance, far too close to being behind the Autobot lines for anyone’s comfort, but at least they were out. Of course, everyone but Skywarp was suffering rather severely from the damn mech’s teleportation. Skywarp took it upon himself to fire at any Autobots nearby as the lot of them stumbled towards the Decepticons.

Soundwave’s order rang in their comms. ::Barricade, Sunstreaker, Sideswipe: board Astrotrain.::

::Why am I not included?:: Vortex whined over the line. Sideswipe snickered.

::Vortex: capable of flight.::

::Right now I’m not!::

Sideswipe laughed out loud this time, and for all Vortex wore a visor on top of a mask, his field definitely passed on his glare. 

Sideswipe laughed harder even as they took the course towards Astrotrain who transformed into a shuttle closeby enough that it wasn’t too tall of an order to reach him, even on unsteady pedes and through the gunfire around them.

The Seekers took to the air on order from Starscream at that, abandoning their ground fights and momentarily leaving the Autobots looking a bit more victorious.

Up until the whole flock of them circled around and took to dropping bombs on the Ark’s entire entrance. Sunstreaker stole one glance backwards to see the Autobots running around, alternately trying to dodge the explosions and get back into the Ark.

Quite a few of them didn’t quite make it. The amount of injuries from this was going to be substantial.

Barricade ushered him forward and the three of them climbed the ramp into Astrotrain just as Megatron ordered the Decepticons to retreat, not because they’d lost the battle, but because they’d gotten what they came here for—the sparkling, and the pain of the Autobots. 

( Next )

[lord-explosion-baku]

Fucking Aizawa

Alpha!Aizawa x Omega!reader

Warnings: swearing, AOB dynamics, kinda dub conny but not really???, they fuc

A/N: I always get so nervous writing omegaverse idk why. It’s always so,,, explicit hahahahaha. Uhhhhhh SO!! Here!! 💃

As an omega, going out at night might not have been the safest for you when you were feeling some type of way but the cool night air always eased your aching nerves. It was your equivalent to taking a cold shower though not as scathing and honestly, standing on top of your apartment building always seemed to help clear your mind.

You haven’t entered your frenzied heat, not yet, but you know it’s coming. Soon you’ll be stuck inside your apartment with the doors locked to the nines, left alone with various toys in a too hot and stuffy room. You had friends you could call to ease the pain for you and though that may be better than suffering on your own, you were always left feeling lethargic and guilty. You haven’t yet bonded with anybody, a decision you’ve made on your own accords but that didn’t mean you never felt… lonely.

You sigh and rest your head on the cool roof door, trying to clear your mind before your big day. Meditation sometimes helped your cycle go by more smoothly, but not every time. It doesn’t hurt to try though. You hum to yourself as you rub your sides that have been cramping for hours.

A loud thump! catches your attention. “Is that who I think it is?”

Oh you’ve got to be kidding me. Of all people to bother you on your much needed meditation night. You don’t even have to turn your head to know that Eraserhead had done his job landing on top of your building on his nightly patrol.

The both of you patrolled during the nights, but you of course had to take the week off because of your heat so he had more ground to cover than usual. You pray that he doesn’t know why you have to take these long period breaks but it’s not hard to figure it out seeing that you’re an out and employed omega.

“Mhm, I’m just enjoying the night air…”

“It’s pretty late.”

“Yeah, no shit.” You already feel yourself growing irritated. You weren’t positive why you didn’t favor Shouta Aizawa. You knew him in high school and though he was buddies with one of your personal friends, you always wanted to avoid his gaze. You were like that with a lot of alphas though. You just thought he had a superiority complex or something.

He steps out in front of you and eyes you sitting on the floor as if you’re some kind of criminal he’s about to interrogate. His lips stay in a flat line while he works a brow at you and you let your eyes wander down his muscular form that’s evident even while he sports his loose fitting hero suit. You can’t help but wonder what it would be like to have him take you, to satiate your building need. Fucking Aizawa.

“Are you feeling alright? It’s cold out and you’re wearing…” he gestures at you and instantly you cover your breasts. Sitting in your pajama shorts, you’ve never been more uncomfortable with alpha’s state. Okay, that wasn’t true but Aizawa just made you mad and it didn’t help that alphas thought they had to throw their authority all over the damn place.

“I’m perfectly comfortable,” you shoot at him. You’re far too hot to play the pleasant conversation game.

“Hmm.” He crosses his arms. Can’t he see that you want to be left alone?!

A breeze picks up a drifts the side of the building. The chill feels good against your scorching skin and you hold your arms closer to your body as your nipples pucker. The wind blows harder and you pick up a deliciously… strong… scent. You feel yourself pooling in your pajama shorts. Fucking Aizawa.

Primal intent overwhelms you and it takes almost everything for you not to immediately call out a scandalous request. Instead, you hop up and fumble with the building keys, muttering a “goodnight Eraserhead,” but before you can even get the key through its hole, you feel a shift in temperature behind you.

“Wait,” his whispered command stops you dead in your tracks. You clutch your stomach. Being around an alpha with such a powerful scent can be absolutely unbearable and you can feel the intensity of your heat starting to hit you.

Your legs start to shake as you turn yourself back towards him. Instinctively, you bite your lip and look to the ground; a humble omega. Not good. You’re suffering through your most natural urges and for Aizawa. You hate him!!

“Oh…” he sticks his nose up and you watch as his eyes dilate, no doubt his blood pressure elevating and his natural dominating instincts coming over. “Oh fuck. That’s you?”

You gulp in response, too afraid to answer. Body pulsating, your body responding to the scent of the alpha in front of you. Fucking hell, why did it have to be him?

There’s a tense moment where Aizawa places a hand against the wall and stares ahead of him. He chuckles to himself and his eyes slide over you while in takes a long inhale. Finally he says, “it’s easy to forget that you’re an omega with that mouth of yours but damn it if you don’t smell… fucking delectable.”

He moves his hand down to grab your the side of your head, he tugs you to the side and presses his nose against your neck. The force of his pulling feels good, almost natural, for you and you hate that you like it.

“God,” he hisses and before you know it, his tongue runs across your neck, under your scent glands. His scruff tickles and you feel his need like it’s your own. Aroused and sensitive, you squirm underneath the towering alpha, ruing the sensation of warm slick building up between your thighs.

“It’s pretty careless of you to be out alone while you’re… like this. You’re lucky it was me who landed on your rooftop and not anyone more dangerous.”

You scoff at that. Now, you know that Aizawa has a good morale and despite you absolutely detesting him, he’s not a bad guy. It’s only natural for him to sound like a complete douchebag when he has to smell you in such a state and it’s only natural that you find it completely riveting.

“Is something funny, sweet little… helpless omega?” His teeth rake across your skin and your arousal flares up!

“S-stop!” You try to push him off but the unattached alpha stood still, lips turning up into a smirk that boiled your blood and shit even barely touching him was too much for you to handle. You don’t want him to stop though. It was instinctual for you to want him. It was the most natural feeling in the world.

He levels his head with you, his hot breath brushing across your skin. Everything about him pulls you to him. Drunk on your hormones, you grip his shirt and push your pelvis against his undeniable erection, shamefully rubbing yourself on him, trying to alleviate some of the aching in your loins. He pushes his knees in between your legs and you begin grinding on his thigh and close your eyes and he chuckles.

“You don’t really want me to stop, do you? I can smell you, kitten. You’re slick with need and just waiting to be filled up with my alpha seed. You want me, don’t you little omega?”

Aizawa growls when you grab onto his thighs, nails digging into the thick fabric of his pants. His eyes are dark watch you move and to even think of you trying to keep up this pathetic facade was too damn cute. If his hardened cock wasn’t aching to push into you, aching to claim the poor omega, aching to saturate your needs, he’d enjoy teasing you for the rest of the night. He’d always had similar desires in high school but for whatever reason, you never gave him the light of day. He intended to take full advantage of this situation, though, he’d do it consensually of course but at this point it didn’t seem like either of you had a real choice.

“I… can take care of this myself…” You’re barely able to utter. His intoxicating scent seems to build a wall between your brain and your body though because soon your arms run along his muscular frame, desperate to feel more of the strong alpha before you.

“Ohh, sweetheart. Do you really enjoy torturing yourself? If you like pain so much I’d offer to take you somewhere I’d be able to tend to your every whim but,” his breath hitches and a lowly growl escapes the back of his throat, sending you into a bit of a frenzy. No, no, you don’t enjoy torturing yourself, you’d rather have the alpha bend you over and dominate you right then and there but you could never admit that to him.

“Eraser,” you mewl and at this point, you’re sure that your slick coats his thigh as you ride him. His eyes hungrily rove over your body, breath growing heavy as his large hands wrap around your waist and push up and under your tank top. His fingers sends spasms throughout your body

“You’re making quite the mess, aren’t you, kitten?Why are you denying yourself, hm? You think you can satisfy your urges by rubbing your need off on me? Come on, angel, I could smell you from blocks away. You can’t resist me nor I, you. Just admit that you need something from me and I will take care of everything.”

“Go fuck yourself” Of course, he’d smell you before coming on top of your roof of all places. You want to hit him but instead your hands shoot to your shorts and you squeeze your eyes shot as your fingers fumble past your elastic waistband.

“Now that’s out of the question when I have a wanton little omega practically writhing underneath me.”

You gasp when his capture weapon wraps around your wrist and pulls your hands away from your throbbing sex that gave an involuntary squeeze. You shoot Aizawa a death glare which he returns with pushing his mouth up to your ear and even with his rough, gritty voice, you can almost hear him purr when he says, “submit to me, omega. Tell me you want this hard alpha cock and I will give it to you. I’ll give you everything. Come on, Y/N, I know you need to be fucked. You can’t deny nature.”

“Fuck,” you try rolling your hips to the best of ability, trying to ease the source of your aching with the friction of Aizawa’s thighs but it’s not enough and you’re in pain. “Please touch me Aizawa. I can’t stand this.”

His hot hand travel up your stomach and stop at your swollen, tender breasts, kneading into them while pinching your nipples between his fingers. His other hand travels south, stopping at your pubic bone, he messages you through your shorts which are, at this point, more like a second skin, soaked and dirtied with your essence. “Tell me you want it, omega. You want me to rut you, to fill you up, and claim you. I wanna hear those words fall from your pretty lips.”

Of course, an alpha can’t properly knot an omega without explicit consent. It burns you to do so but the excruciating desire you felt clamping down on your burned even worse. “Alpha,” you moan, dogging your nails into the palm on your hands. “Please give me your knot.

He growls at you, twisting your body around. He pushes himself flush against your back and you can feel his cock throbbing on your ass. He tugs your hair up and plants a kiss on the back of your neck. “Was that so hard for you, kitten?”

Swiftly he peels your shorts off your body and you grow all the more excited feeling the cool hair on glistening cunt. His scarf pulls your hands to the roof’s door and you arch your back and shudder with anticipation when you hear him undo his belt.

He lines himself against your swollen sex, the head of his cock dripping with precum. Aizawa rubs his length along your slit, coating himself in your need and feels a pang when you once again call him alpha.

“Look how wet you are for your new alpha. God, you know it’s taken everything for me not to tear you to shreds in the past.”

You can hardly understand what that means, all you know is that you can’t stand not having him inside you another second. “Shouta, pleeaase.”

A switch flips inside his head. He’s held back his restraint for long enough. He brushed his cheek along you shoulder blade and sharply thrusts into you.

He’s huge, enormous, and it feels good to have something push against your pained walls. Slowly he drags himself out and forcefully shoved back into you, stretching you out. A relieved moan escapes your mouth. “Ohhh fuck me, alpha. God, th-thank you, ohh…”

Aizawa snickers, grabbing your waist to pull you deeper on to his drenched shaft. “I haven’t even done anything yet and you’re thanking me? What a submissive little omega.” He bites down on your shoulder, breaking the skin and you yelp out and clench around his girth in response.

“Fucking hell, kitten,” he chokes, “such tight little pussy..”

He fucks you relentlessly, growling and grabbing, taking his nails across your skin, marking you as his; his omega. You’re so hot for him and Aizawa thanks his lucky stars it was you that drew him to this rooftop; he’s wanted this, to have you bent over him, calling for him, for over a decade.

He grows smug when he watches your hands slide down the door, trying to get the most out of your experience. He wants to see your face, high with euphoria and lucky for the both of you, the base of his cock only just started to swell. Aggressively, he pulls out and spin you around. You cry out, destitute and needy for him to film you back up. Aizawa slams you back against the door and plants and hungrily claims your lips. You wrap your legs around him and slide onto him with ease, gasp into the kiss when he plows you deeper than before.

“You’re such a pretty little omega, aren’t you? So compliant when you know you need to be. I’m gonna fill you up to the brim, you know that?”

“Yes alpha. Mmmph, please do. I want you to deep inside me, I ~ahh~,” you cling on to his back, “I wanna have your pups!”

Aizawa’s eyes widen. He wasn’t expecting you to say that and even if it was just a spur of the moment thing, a carnal instinct, it sends him over the edge. The thought of you swollen with his child is far too delicious of a thought to let go of. He bites down hard in your scent glands and you shriek in pure ecstasy.

“If someone else so much as looks at you, I’ll tear them limb from limb! Do I make myself clear?”

That’s the alpha in him speaking and if you’d heard it any other time, you’d roll your eyes so hard they’d fall out of your head but in that moment you need his possessiveness like the ocean’s tides need the moon.

“Yes, my alpha,” you say through your panting. You feel yourself pool at your own compliance and Aizawa hisses in response.

“Fuck, that’s a good girl. Shit, kitten.”

His knot reaches its peak and he thrusts hard into your gushing cunt, pushing in to his hilt. He feels your pleasure in sheer electrifying waves as he follows your climax by shooting his seed deep inside of you. The both of you shake together, stuck and wrapped around each other’s bliss. You stay like that for fifteen long sensual minutes pulsating within one another.

He nuzzles against the soft sensitivity of your neck, preening and kissing you, whispering to you about how good you were, how proud he is and you’re too lost in your shattered mindset to understand what’s really happened until his swelling goes down and you’re able to slide off of him.

Aizawa wipes your sweaty forehead on the back of his sleeve and regards you knitted eyebrows with a similar expression. “Are you okay, kitten? I wasn’t too rough with you?”

You shudder when another cold front blows across the rooftop and Aizawa is quick to strip himself of his shirt and offer it to you.

“I’m… good. Really good,” you say, pulling your head through his shirt. As protective as alphas could be, nobody’s ever really actually asked if you were okay after a rut. You sigh. “Thank you… I should be okay for a couple hours now.” You avoid his gaze. “I think I should go shower.”

Aizawa presses his mouth into a fine line. Maybe you don’t understand what really just happened. You bonded with him. You’re his. “I’ll order some take out for you then. Or maybe…” he placed his hands under your chin, your eyes shine up at him. You’re still in heat and you’ve sent him into a rut. If you really didn’t understand that you belonged to each other, you could end up inviting someone else over when your heat flares up again! He couldn’t just leave you, even if you asked him to. “I can take better care of you at my place. Run you a warm bath or… whatever you need. You just tell me what it is and I’ll get it for you.”

“Aizawa-,” you begin.

“Omega,” he says, placing a stern hand on your shoulder. “I’m taking care of you and that’s final. Do you understand?”

You part your lips, not completely surprised by his dominate nature after everything that’s happened. Aizawa might’ve not been the most agreeable person in the world but… he was now your person… and you weren’t actually torn up that he wasn’t going to leave your side.

You nod.

~

Tags for EVERYTHING (closed): @yandere-inamorata @miitaart @dessiedawnwritesfanfiction @wickedlewicked @nevermorelanore @kpanime @ayeputita a @captain-sin-allmight-queen @diisasterbii @iceformer @meganofmars @colagirl5 @colorbookshd @grimmjadeskye @sm0kingcrack @sarcastictextstuck @zellllyyyy @psionicsnow @andie-in-tumblland @iamthe-leaf @midnightfeline666 @bungou-stray-dogs-indulgences @rubyred-imagines imagines @kattariapenn @heypartypeps @quirktaker @thecryingsombra @smbody-stole-mycar-radio @ghost-of-todoroki @geektastic84 @davalia @glixeo @rubycubix @mekakushi-dan-01-kido

[theradioghost]

...ok what's up with corsets?

I mean, mostly just a lot of misconceptions about how they worked and what they were for. I’m going to ramble a lot here, but please know that I am not by any definition an expert on any of this, just a 19th century lit major who’s studied a lot of historical context stuff for research and fun purposes.

One clarification is, to simplify the complex and annoying evolution of language over centuries, if it’s from the  early 1800s or later, it’s a corset. If it’s from the 16th-18th centuries, it’s “stays” or a “pair of bodies.” (I think bodies was an earlier term more commonly used for outer garments while stays were undergarments, but don’t quote me on that.) Stays were basically conical with quite a long torso, and you couldn’t lace them particularly tight because metal eyelets weren’t invented until the 1830s and the fabric couldn’t take that strain. Depending on the fashion at the time, their basic function was to create a perfectly smooth, very long silhouette, push your boobs up, or both. Typically their structure came from cording, reeds, whalebone, or layers of paste-stiffened fabric; steel stays from this period are essentially orthopedic devices (or, and I’m obsessed with this idea: fakes created by 19th century fetishists. There’s a reason the 19th century is my favorite historical period and it’s because everything was absolutely nuts, all the time). They also fell in and out of fashion at times – if you look at the naturalistic, Grecian styles of European dresses in the 1820s, for example, many women were wearing either very light stays just to push their bust up, or none at all.

Some nice examples of stays from this period are this, this, and this, from the V&A’s collections. Looking at most portraiture of women from the 16-1700s also pretty clearly displays the conical silhouette that stays produced, but I’m going to refrain from adding images to this post because I already suspect that it’s going to be incredibly, frustratingly long.

Women basically weren’t wearing structured undergarments before the Renaissance, so medieval stays are not a thing.. Although on a fascinating side note, a few years back someone found a bunch of medieval bras, which we had no idea were a thing until then, so that’s really cool. 

Regardless of whether you’re talking stays or corsets, two important things. First of all, they were not worn directly against the skin what the hell, firstly because that is incredibly uncomfortable, and secondly because in periods where most people owned fairly little clothing and a lot of that was wool, having a linen or cotton undergarment under all your clothes helped keep them cleaner by separating them from your skin. Historically most often that was a shift, basically just a big long undershirt thing.

The second important thing is whalebone, historically always the number one material for corset boning. Whalebone is an incredibly misleading name, and I hate it, because it took me forever to learn that “whalebone” is not bone but baleen, the bristly stuff that filter-feeding whales have instead of teeth. It’s made from keratin, same as our hair and fingernails. It’s light, flexible, and becomes bendable with warmth, meaning that over time, the boning of a corset would conform to your natural body shape as it was warmed by your body heat, and would stay in that shape. All-steel boning only really became A Thing in the last couple of decades that corsets were an everyday garment for most women, and that wasn’t because of superior structural properties. It was because it was cheaper, given that after centuries of whaling, there were a lot fewer whales to hunt, and acquiring baleen became more expensive and difficult. Even then, a lot of manufacturers just moved to things like featherboning (made from the shafts of feathers), coraline (made from a plant whose name I cannot remember), cane, or just cording (often cotton or paper cords), rather than steel. They also tended to use spiral steels, which can flex more, as opposed to solid steel bones. The main use of steel in corsets was actually to reinforce the closures, the front busk and the back where it laced.

(Most modern corsets are either all-steel waist training corsets or “fashion corsets” boned with flimsy plastic, but there’s actually a modern product called synthetic whalebone which is a plastic designed to replicate the properties of baleen as closely as possible.)

Then we get to the Victorian period, and that’s where pop culture really kind of loses its shit over the idea of corsetry? All the fainting and shifting organs and women getting ribs surgically removed (what) and generally the impression that Corsets Are Horrible Death Garments.

Tightlacing is one of the big things here. Yes, there were Victorian women who tightlaced to reduce their waists to dramatic extremes, and it was not healthy. There are also women today who put themselves through dangerous, unbelievable things to achieve the most fashionable body possible (tw in that link for disordered eating, self-harm, and abuse), and that article only covers the extremes of the professional modeling industry, not everyday things like high heels, for example. Most women who were tightlacing were young, wealthy, and fashionable, not worrying about being healthy enough to work as long as they could achieve ideal beauty – the same people who do this kind of thing now. And part of the reason we know so much about it is that it was extreme and uncommon even then. Medical experts ranted about the dangers of tightlacing, people campaigned against it. It was definitely not the case that all women were going around suffocating in tightlaced corsets all the time.

It’s worth considering our sample of evidence. You see a lot of illustrated fashion plates, which don’t look like real women now, and didn’t then either. By the late 1800s, photographers had already figured out plenty of tricks with angles and posing to make a model look as wasp-waisted as possible. They would also just straight up paint women’s waists smaller in a lot of pictures. And when you consider surviving garments, a disproportionate number of them are from rich young women who hadn’t yet married and had children, because for a variety of reasons those tend to be the clothes that are preserved and survive. The constantly-swooning women of Victorian literature are for some reason presumed to be representative of real life and the constriction of corsets – let me tell you, as someone who studied 19th century literature specifically, everything is exaggerated and melodramatic, especially extremes of emotion (and men also swoon a lot too). It also seems weird that we nod along unquestioning with the most extreme claims of 19th century panics about the medical harm of corsets (rib removal? with 19th century surgery???) and then just mock those silly, stupid Victorians when we read about things like bicycle face or the claim that fast vehicles would make women’s uteruses fly out of their bodies or whatever.

In fact, corsets were a pretty sensible garment in a lot of ways. They seem really restrictive to us now, but historical garments in general didn’t stretch the way modern knit fabrics do. In addition to supporting the bust just like any modern bra, corsets could actually make moving and breathing easier by helping to support the weight of ridiculously heavy dresses. Women did in fact live everyday, active lives wearing them, including lower-class women who worked physically demanding jobs. Late-Victorian women actually started doing a lot more sports, including cycling – that cyclist at the top of the bicycle face article is definitely wearing a corset, for example. They were used to them, too, and used to the specific ways you move in those kind of clothes, which most modern folks who try to wear that stuff one time are not. One interesting thing I’ve heard is that while corsets helped posture a lot – a lot of people today use them medically to help with back pain and support for just that reason – over time that understandably means that if you’re always wearing a corset, your abdominal muscles won’t be very strong because they’re not doing as much work keeping your posture straight. No ab crunches for Victorian women I guess.

Looking at extant Victorian-era clothing, the fashionable wasp-waisted silhouette actually had a lot more to do with the optical illusion achieved with extensive padding, which widened the hips and turned the upper body into a smooth, Chris-Evans-esque triangle. In comparison, the waist looks smaller. (Seriously, look up some photos of late 19th century ladies, their whole front upper body is this perfectly smooth convex curve. That’s all padding.) Silhouette was what the Victorians really cared about, and padding is a lot more sensible and comfortable than tightlacing.

My basic point here is just I guess that there’s a common and weirdly moralizing perception now that the historical corset was, invariably, this horrible constricting heavy steel cage thing that damaged your health and was a Tool Of Patriarchal Oppression. There’s also a lot of really bad costuming in historical dramas. I just think the reality is a lot more interesting. Also that modern steel waist training corsets kind of terrify me?

If you want more info and some good primary and academic sources from people who actually study and recreate historical garments and Actually Know Things, I recommend Bernadette Banner’s videos (here and here) on corsets – also just her stuff in general, I’ve been incredibly happy to see her gaining a lot of attention lately because she’s delightful – this video by historical costumer Morgan Donner wearing a corset daily for a week and talking about what it feels like, and this article, which cites among other things a really interesting late-19th-century study by a doctor trying to actually gather data on corsetry and its effects. Also for that matter, the aforementioned YouTube costumers have respectively made 17th-century stays and a late 19th-century corset, and seeing how these garments are put together is really interesting.

(I feel like I heard somewhere once that S-shape corsets from 1900-1910ish might have been more potentialy harmful because they did weird things to your back posture, but honestly my historical knowledge and interest drops precipitiously when you hit the 20th century.)

[pamphletstoinspire]

The Devil Wants a Civil War

“A house divided against itself cannot stand,” asserted Abraham Lincoln during his acceptance speech for the Illinois Republican nomination to the U.S. Senate in 1858. Three years later Lincoln would be sworn in as President of the United States and would be leading his country through the American Civil War. Of course, Lincoln did not come up with those famous words from his House Divided Speech on his own. He borrowed them from Christ, who explained in Matthew 12:25, “Every kingdom divided against itself will be laid waste, and no town or house divided against itself will stand.” This wisdom from Our Lord is crucial in understanding that division s one of the main battle strategies of the devil. Satan always seeks to divide us.

Christ, on the other hand, wants to unite us. In His High Priestly Prayer in John 17, Our Lord prayed “not only for [the Twelve], but also for those who believe in me through their word, so that they may all be one, as you Father are in me and I in you, that they also may be in us, that the world may believe that you sent me. And I have given them the glory you sent me, so that they may be one as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may be brought to perfection as one, that the world may know that you sent me, and that you loved them even as you loved me.”

The devil wants civil war. He seeks to divide because he wants to destroy. Christ seeks to unite because he wants to glorify and perfect. Destruction or glory—this is the choice the Church, the nation, and the world face. On the surface it would appear to be a simple choice, a no-brainer. But consistently throughout history humanity has chosen the devil’s path to division and destruction rather than the way of unity and glory through Christ. And the same continues to happen today.

To defend ourselves against the wickedness and snares of the devil, it is helpful to understand his tactics. The devil “is a liar, and the father of lies.” He will tell us whatever he needs to in order to wreak havoc in our lives and send us on a path to destruction. In his excellent book Spiritual Warfare and the Discernment of Spirits, author Dan Burke explains, “The bad spirits cause desolation and lead us to the world, the flesh, the devil, selfishness, and ultimately hell. These spirits only seek to do us harm.” The devil will use our selfish and wicked desires, our addictions, our fears, our vanity, and our pride to destroy us. Unlike the devil and his bad spirits, the Lord’s good spirits “cause consolation and seek to lead us to God, to the Good, to selflessness, to union with God, and ultimately to heaven. These spirits are dispatched by God and only seek our good.”

The devil has successfully used these tactics for millennia. He played both sides during what is commonly known as the Protestant Reformation. He turned leaders of the Catholic Church toward their own carnal desires and away from God, causing corruption and wickedness. Then he fed on the pride and vainglory of the “reformers,” and the princes and kings who supported them, convincing them to abandon the Church to form thousands of their own independent congregations, instead of working on real reform from the inside. This division of the Church led to bloody wars between Protestants and Catholics that lasted all the way into my lifetime.

The devil has done this again and again, dividing the Church, dividing nations, and dividing the world so that we will destroy each other. It is easy to spot the devil at work in the world because of the fruit he brings forth. As Our Lord tells us, “You will know them by their fruits… every good tree bears good fruits, but the bad tree bears bad fruit.” The devil brings forth the bad fruits of division and destruction. And he is doing it again right now.

The devil’s destructive forces have taken many forms over the millennia, but one of his most successful and deadly in modern times is Marxism. Marxists seek to tear down and destroy. Marxists hate the world and its Creator. They believe that they are morally superior to God Himself and can do a much better job at building a just society. But before they can do that they must destroy the old society. That means they must destroy what Mao and his Red Guards called the Four Olds: Old Customs, Old Culture, Old Habits, and Old Ideas. Thus, things like the Church and the Constitution must be obliterated.

Like their father, the devil, the Marxists destroy by sowing division. They divide based on class, age, gender, race, and sexual desires. They turn people against each other using the deadly sins of greed, envy, wrath, and pride. Then they burn everything to the ground. The entire system must be destroyed completely and utterly. The Old Customs, Old Culture, Old Habits, and Old Ideas are blamed for all the evils of mankind and therefore anyone who still holds to them is evil as well. These evil people who adhere to the Four Olds find their property stolen or destroyed, their reputations sullied, their families persecuted, and themselves either executed or sent off to the gulag or work camps where they are tortured for years, sometimes until the day they die.

Many of the well-meaning followers of Marxist ideologies (including a large number of Christians) believe that after the old, evil system is destroyed that a new and just system will be erected in its place—the perfect Communist society. But this never happens, because the devil cannot build; he can only destroy. There is not a single example of a successful Marxist revolution being followed by the establishment of the Communist ideals. Without exception, every Marxist revolution has been followed by terror, oppression, and mass death due to famine or execution or both. In the 20th century alone, Marxists killed approximately 100 million people. And the devil danced.

The devil is using the Marxists again, this time to destroy the Church and America. Through the propaganda of his servants, he is dividing us in any and every way he can. Like their father the devil, the modern Marxists lie to achieve destruction. They have even convinced some of the faithful that sins aren’t sinful, that it doesn’t matter what you believe as long as you are sincere, that God cares only that we are happy, that objective truth does not exist, and that we can define our own truth. All too often they are even able to convince people that God does not exist at all, and in the words of famed atheist Bertrand Russell, “the Christian religion, as organized in its churches, has been and still is the principal enemy of moral progress in the world.”

The Marxists have also convinced large numbers of Americans of destructive lies. These include the absurd lie that police hunt black men for sport, that all white people are racist, and that the entire American system is racist and is rigged against black people. Through their lies the Marxists have convinced a depressingly large number of young black people that no matter how hard they work, they will have little chance to succeed due to white privilege and systemic racism. The Marxists tell us that we are better off without police, that we are better off without a strong family structure, and that we are better off without God. Then they riot and burn cities, all while continuing to lie by asserting that it isn’t happening and that everything is peaceful. If we continue along this path of division, the endgame is obvious—the devil wants civil war, and he is going to get it.

Is civil war unavoidable at this point? The Transition Integrity Project (“TIP”)—an organization made up of self-important people who really do not like President Trump—recently claimed to have “war-gamed” the likely fallout from the upcoming election. According to TIP, the only way to avoid a civil war, or at least massive civil unrest, is if former Vice President Joe Biden wins in a landslide. The Biden campaign is echoing that sentiment, with Biden himself asking, “Does anyone believe there will be less violence in America if Donald Trump is re-elected?”

But Joe Biden is not going to be the savior of America. Neither he nor Donald Trump can stop the devil’s plans for a civil war, because the true causes are not physical, but spiritual. Thus, only God can save us. Just as God told the Israelites, “If my people, upon whom my name has been pronounced, humble themselves and pray, and seek my presence and turn from their evil ways, I will hear them from heaven and pardon their sins and revive their land.” The way we can avoid the coming destruction is by turning to Christ. The devil divides, but Christ unites! The devil destroys, but Christ glorifies!

We are never completely abandoned by the Lord no matter how bad things get. He is always willing to demonstrate His inexhaustible love and mercy if we appeal to Him. This is a time to pray and fast, to mourn in sackcloth and ashes. We should organize novenas within our parishes to pray that the Lord God forgive the great sins of this nation, that He not remove His protective hand from us, and that He lead us all back to Him. We should be praying the Holy Rosary every day, with this or a similar intention. And we must demonstrate to our neighbors that Christ unites, by showing them love and respect and by being the light of the world that Our Lord wants us to be.

We can defeat the devil and his servants who are trying to destroy us if it be God’s will. If we turn to Him, He will work through His Church—through us—to defeat this great evil that threatens all of mankind. Just remember how the Lord worked through the Blessed Virgin to reveal to three shepherd children in Fatima instructions that would save the world from war and end the scourge of Communism in Russia. Following Our Lady’s instructions, Pope Saint John Paul II consecrated Russia to the Immaculate Heart of Mary in 1984. The Berlin Wall came down just five years later, followed by the collapse of the Soviet Union in the ensuing years. Even secularists who do not believe in the Fatima miracles admit the importance of the Church and the pope in bringing down European Communism.

The devil wins when we are divided. He loses when we unite ourselves in Christ. The time to do so is now before the devil gets his civil war.

BY: R. C. VANLANDINGHAM

[cryptovalid]

The Rise of Skywalker is Bad, but I was wrong to expect any better (and it’s not as bad as I expected, either)

If the title did not give it away, I’m conflicted about Star Wars Episode IX: the Rise of Skywalker. I just saw it in theatres, and I thought it was bad, but I can’t muster up any scorn or outrage. It’s just like the popcorn I ate: bland and forgettable, and somewhat stale. I guess it helps I was never a huge Star Wars fan at any time. I’ve seen every movie in the series, except for Solo. but I’ve not seen any of them more than once or twice. In short, I’ve always thought of Star Wars as Fine, but also massively overrated. I believe the interesting concepts in A New Hope and the Empire Strikes Back were squandered by first George Lucas, and then J.J. Abrams.

 I can’t say that Rian Johnson’s The Last Jedi was my favorite Star Wars movie, but it was without a doubt the least compromised of all the other entries. It had something to say whether fans liked it or not. It wasn’t meandering, self-indulgent and uncanny like Lucas’ prequels, and did not take the original trilogy as unassailable gospel the way JJ Abrams does. I did not like the pacing or how Poe and Finn’s characters seemed less central to the story, but I understand why Rian Johnson focused on Rey’s interactions with Luke. The message of the Last Jedi was bold and challenging for fans: the Force is for Everyone and fans are wrong to obsess over the royalist eugenics and power fantasies in the original trilogy. Johnson wanted to focus on some of the more challenging aspects of war: loss, betrayal, and failure. Not everyone liked that, but for all that it did to sideline my favorite new characters, Finn and Poe, that was a daring and worthwhile statement to make.  

That said, I expected Disney to fully backtrack, given the way TLJ was received. So expectations were not high. Watching RoS is a strange experience. It’s kind of fun but also profoundly unoriginal and hackneyed. But given how similar it is to the Original Trilogy, it just made me realize that Star Wars was never as good as I imagined it was (or could be?). For Rise of Skywalker to be actually great, it would have to Rise (pardon the pun) above its predecessors. Which obviously it didn’t.  

 From here on there be Spoilers for SWIX: ROS

Let’s talk nuts and bolts. This movie is a random remix  of setpieces and McGuffins, artificially raised stakes and callbacks and hommages to the Orginal Trilogy. There’s a thing the heroes need to find the resurrected Emperor, and 80% of the movies is just a huge wild goose chase that also involves Kyle Ron stalking Rey to convince her to rule to galaxy with him. Then there’s a bunch of Death Stars and  confrontation with the Emperor. It’s all quite well paced, shot and scored, and even though I am highly critical of both the stilted dialogue and the uninspired plotting, the film is at least entertaining to watch. It is frequently funny and tense, sometimes unintentionally. And this, looking back, is really all that Star Wars can really claim to be. It’s an all-ages action comedy about war with some fantasy and sci fi for flavor and that’s really all that Star Wars has ever been.   

I had an epiphany as I watched Kyle Ron’s redemption and the messages around the Dark and Light Side. I was first struck by the fact that they are really the same story beats as the original trilogy, with some details changed that merely made it more obvious how hypocritical, lazy and thematically inconsistent these ideas have been from the beginning. Redeeming Darth Vader was always a cheap copout. He is a mass-murderer whose last action is sacrificing his life to kill the Emperor. He never really reckons with his many, many crimes. 

It becomes slightly grosser when Kyle Ron has one warm moment with his mom before she dies, a near-death experience and a peptalk from the dad he murdered, murders a bunch of goons, and sacrifices himself to save Rey’s life. For this, Rey immediately not only forgives him for the mass kidnappings, genocide, torture and the many times he threatened, gaslit and assaulted her, but immediately kisses him. It’s such a gendered framing of redemption that basically reproduces the views that narcissists and abusers have about relationships: that you can treat others like literal dogshit and redeem yourself with a single grand gesture of self-sacrifice. I’ve talked about the Martyr Dad before on this account, but making it a romantic thing is so much worse. This is the cycle of abuse to a T.

In terms of the Light Side Versus the Dark Side, Star wars has always wanted its cake and to eat it too. On the one hand, it wants to suggest that the Light Side is a fundamentally morally opposed way of living focused on ‘Knowledge and Defense‘, that striking a Sith down in Anger is something the Light Side can not abide, but in the end, the Light Side always wins because the Sith are violently killed. It always feels like a convenient loophole that Darth Vader throws the Emperor into a nearby pit so that Luke doesn’t need to get his hands dirty. All the more so when the resurrected Emperor literally has his own Force Lightning reflected into his face by Rey’s dual wielding two Skywalker Lightsabers+3. It’s cheap. It’s moral sofistry with the gratification of a power fantasy.

You might have noticed I’ve said nothing about my soft boys, Poe and Finn, or Rose Tycho for that matter. That’s because they’re not important to the overarching story. They could easily have been cut from the film without significantly altering the story. They pad the runtime. They’re charming and funny as always and the writers give them stuff to do in every act, but it’s not the A-plot. The story is partially about Kyle Ron having an admittedly well-acted but very hackneyed redemption arc that is sure to please fans of the character but doesn’t involve in any sense an understanding that he has hurt billions of people. His redemption is exclusively about his parents, who are the only people he’s hurt that are worth mentioning in this context. The other part is the revelation that Rey does have a special lineage: she’s Palpatine’s granddaughter. This is why she’s powerful and also why she’s tempted by the dark side. 

If the message of TLJ was ‘we’re all equals in the eyes of the force‘, ROS is basically a massive apology for even entertaining that idea, and reaffirms that all the important characters are related by blood to characters from the original trilogy and all the rest are also there, I guess. If you’ve ever thought that you could be as strong in the force as Luke or Kylo or Rey, you are a fool. After all, your parents weren’t Force Royalty. You thought a person of color or a non-force user could be the key to defeating fascism? You thought main characters could be anything other than straight? Utter simpleton, you. You thought redeeming yourself from mass-murder was difficult, or that the Jedi were flawed just like every other organisation? Nah mate, the bad guys wear black robes and we totally fucked them up with laser swords and heavy ordinance. 

Don’t worry, white hetero superfan looking for a power fantasy that doesn’t challenge your beliefs or moral superiority. Your priorities and fixations are our script editor. We’re sorry, Disney appears to say with this movie, that we would ever suggest there was anything more to Star Wars as a franchise. We promise, she may be a girl, but in all other respects, she’s just like Luke now. Except this time, Luke is hot and totally into your edgy dark side.

Ok, I’m sorry, that’s just the bitter shipper in me. Finn deserved better. He deserved to be a main character. A love interest. His redemption was never fully framed as such, nor did he ever really get credit for being a consistently supportive, relatable, honorable character with the scintillating charisma of John Boyega. Despite being literally raised as a child soldier, he was never seen as a good example of redemption and somehow, he was not considered a main character. This is, I believe, the greatest waste of this trilogy.

Fuck the idea of a Dynasty of the Force. Fuck Eugenics. Fuck this idea that your birth is what makes you powerful. It is weak. It is lazy. It is boring. 

I had such high hopes after Episode VII, despite it being derivative. It appeared in that moment that Finn could be love interest for both Rey and Poe. Perhaps even at the same time! I imagined the climax of this trilogy would be all about Finn growing from a deserter unsure that he could ever make a difference, to becoming a true hero. I imagined the heroes facing the First Order in their darkest hour, when all is lost. I imagined them being rescued by defecting Stormtroopers, painting their helmets with three vertical red stripes in honour of the First Traitor. I imagined my boy Finn leading a legion of traitors, proving that all it takes to defeat fascism is to reject it and inspire others to do the same. 

But of course, that hope was foolish. I shouldn’t have expected good storytelling from a series that pays lip service to non-violence and redemption while handling both as cheap, esthetic elements rather than actual narrative commitments.

[avenger09]

Horrors of the Empire

Star Wars + Dragon Prince Crossover

The Empire spreads across their world and one of their strongest is subjected to the depths of it’s Evil. 

This had been a strange time for Amaya. A short while ago she had been the prisoner of the decorative and arrogant Sunfire Elves, an enemy she knew. Now she was sitting in a another cell, the prisoner of another, an Empire of some kind. The accommodations so small part of her beginning to miss the ring of fire her last hosts had provided. If only a little. 

As far as she could tell from the few exposed lips available to read, she did not know them but was quickly warming up to the idea of hating them, no less then the Elves, and not just for the damned helmets their white armored troops seemed insistent on wearing. 

The only exception for that would be the skittish, bespectacled, translator who her previous captors had assigned her, and who was right now in her cell and like her no longer in their brightly colored cloths but a drab jumpsuit obviously meant to identify them as Prisoners. Indeed if they had been the only other being in the cell Amaya could consider thinking she was at least in good company. Unfortunately the Elf’s presence had been requested by another, an Officer given his uniform, who was somehow half metal. Hence the need for the translator, as his mouth was one of the things covered by it. The half-man seemed to be saying something but not anything addressed to her, at least not yet.

Admiral Gable Karius. That was his name, as he liked to remind people, in case his Cybernetic right arm and mouthpiece didn’t make a memorable enough impression. These had once been his only mechanical parts, until a few years ago. When an... incident on Mustafar claimed his left leg as well. Afterwords he was essentially exiled to patrol the outer rim of the galaxy as punishment for the debacle that had occurred there on his watch. A merciful fate compared to the usual result that befell those who’d failed the lord who dwelt there, and who in fact requested his aide in securing the strange new world they now orbited, as well as instructed to interrogate the prisoner before him. For whom he'd devised a particularly cunning strategy of breaking to the Empire’s will, as least as he was concerned, anyone with a normal moral compass would call it horrific. 

“Interpreter.” The cyborg barked. “Will you truly be able to translate for this interrogation?”

Nervously, they replied. Trying not to upset the ‘new management’ as they’ed chosen to call them, as a coping mechanism against the wider implications of a galaxy spanning empire provoked in them. 

“Yes. Yes! I can. I was quite good at managing for Princess Jenai before, well... you know. Though I’d like to say if where to simply remove the apparatus on your face, she could simply re-”  

The glare the Admiral shot them and where currently suffering, under quickly ended that suggestion. Once done, he quickly got back to the business at hand. 

“Then let us begin...” He pulled out a strange remote as he said that. 

“I am Admiral Karius.” Each word translated for the deaf General’s benefit as he went. 

“Given your... condition. I have decided to grant you a gift in anticipation of your future co-operation.” 

The general’s only response was a continuation of her own glare. 

“In my hand, is a device that controls an implant we had installed in your head last night.”

At that Amaya couldn’t help palm the near invisible scars now on the right side of her head just above her ears. 

“This implant... Will let you hear.” Both the general and the translator, Kazi’s eyes went wide at that.

“Now...” He began pacing in front of her “Since your ears have obviously never been used, I imagine the sudden volume if not properly adjusted will be quite unpleasant. Answer my questions in a manner I deemed satisfactory, and that won’t be so. Understand?” He turned to her and let the moment sink in. Allowing her a chance to digest the information.

“So... and be truthful now. Where are your forces?” 

Amaya could only look up at the half-man, this Admiral, with disgust. They had the power to grant her and countless other’s who through a chance of birth or accident had been denied, and they used it for this?! As leverage in Torture?  The spit she hurled onto his boot in response was too good for him, but it was all her outraged mind could manage at the moment, but give her time.

All the same, Karius was not impressed. “Very well... Trooper!” One of the armored guards stepped into the enclosed cell. “Escort the translator back to their cell. They won’t e needed for a while.” 

Kazi could only gulp and spare a glance of pity at the Human General she’d grown fond of. Even managing a quick sign of “Stay strong.” before exiting with the escort.

Alone Karius, with a flick of the remote, unleashes a sensation Amaya had not experienced before, came crashing down upon her. Every rustle of clothing, every creek of the metal around her, and the steps of the angered Imperial walking towards her. Each was heard with an intensity her sensitive ears where overwhelmed by. 

In other circumstances, this change would be a joy. The chance to hear all the things she had been deaf to, but as she was discovering. The Empire can warped even that to their twisted purpose. The metal whirring of her captors arm, catching her off guard as it grabbed hold of her head and forced her once erratic head, to focus on his single exposed eye. Before speaking to her in a voice even her inexperienced ears knew was not how a voice was meant to sound. The intimating high class baritone his voice possessed, made even more ungodly by the anger in it, before being processed by the mechanical voice box into something truly torturous, as he spoke as harsh as he could for maximum discomfort. 

“Where, are, your FORCES!” Each word felt like a razor had been pierced into her mind and it was only going to get worse, she could tell. But she would not be broken. Not just because, she couldn’t yet recognize spoken language, but because of a reason far more substantial. 

She was the shield of Katolis. The sister of Queen Serai, the Aunt to her nephews, smart Callum, and sweet Ezran. For that, her sisters memory, for her family, and her country, she would not break... She was certain. 

But she did not yet know the full power of the Empire. That they had broken far greater then her with far worse methods at their disposal. That lack of knowledge may save her... Or not. 

Epilogue 

Sometime later...

She had no idea how long she’d been there, days for certain. They didn’t bother telling her, a classic technique with prisoners even on her world. All she knew was the half man was back in her cell again. Once more without the translator who she began to see less of when it became clear to them, she was putting together her sign language with the words spoken, despite herself. 

“I must admit, General Amaya.” She was in no mood.

“Despite my best efforts even striking at the most vulnerable part of you, you have manged to choose defiance, over submission again and again. No matter the discomfort. Ah. If only some of my colleagues had such mettle...” 

And this is where he’ll pull the rug out she thought. 

“Unfortunately.” There it is. “My superior, has grown impatient.” He continued, almost sounding sorrowful. “So he shall now take over this interrogation, using his own unpleasant methods of extracting information. Before he does I wish you to understand that what happens next, is by your own hand. You could have avoided this had you complied.” When the metal door opened, Amaya had up to that point thought nothing could sound worse then the metallic voice of Karius. But the moment her sore but rested ears caught that sound... the chilling rhythm of the automated inhale and exhale, that accompanied the heavy footsteps of the black armored Warrior that just had walked in who towered over her and Karius. 

She realized, what the true horror of the empire was...

---

It was the most evil thing I could think of the Empire doing to her. Hope it had the effect I was going for. Added in Karius because he looks like the kind of Imperial who gets his hands dirty, and has. And is a perfect rival for Amaya to have a fist fight with when she breaks free, or is broken free.

Not really much of a writer (or at least not a confident one) but I think this is pretty good. 

[tifs-against-terfs]

I watched the 42 minute Projared video so you don’t have to (kinda)

Trigger warning for like. A lot of stuff. Very very long post so more under the cut

Alright. So basically, I’m not exactly well versed in the situation here. What I do know, is that famous gaming youtuber Projared allegedly cheated on his Wife Heidi with the ex-wife of Ross O’Donovan, Holly Conrad, as well as that he has been accused of being a pedophile, or at the very least, a person who took advantage of his power and fame and used to it get illicit pictures from people who were not his wife.

While I am not at ALL 100% versed in every little detail and nuance that this situation contains, I do know trademark manipulative behavior when I see it. So this is a post that will high light all that I could catch in my time watching his video.

This was gonna be a bulleted list but I feel it works better in a sort of essay format. Keep in mind, the majority of the times I quoted him were paraphrased or shortened to keep this already lengthy ass post shorter than it could be. Also, keep in mind that this is in no way an unbiased review. I didn’t like Jared before and I certainly don’t like him now, so if that’s what you’re looking for, you came to the wrong place. This took me over 4 hours. Enjoy.

Throughout the entirety of the video, Jared, like most manipulators, presents himself as both a victim and as the good guy of the story. Taking a sort of “misunderstood hero” approach to all of his arguments. This can be seen repeatedly. At one instance, near the beginning of the video he refers to the influx of call out posts and memes that were made about him as “harassment,” which is already an Olympic level stretch. He also refers to himself as “demonized and dehumanized.” This is a classic example of the self victimizing behavior and wording that Jared places oh so strategically throughout his video. There is a prime example of him painting himself as a hero when he mentions the statement that normal boots issued about his release. Jared claims that he was not fired, and that he in fact quit. He goes on to say that he did this because he saw his former coworkers losing followers and didn’t want them to be dragged down with him. I shouldn’t have to explain why this is a classic example of manipulating others in order to seem superior to your opposition. He ends the video with a short rant in which he, again, refers to people making memes, call out posts, and tweeting out clown emojis (I wish I was joking) as harassment.

Let’s move on to the way Jared presents his evidence. Jared consistently used ways of getting his point across that were either only vaguely related to the point he was attempting to make, or just simply sketchy, to say the least. Near the very beginning of the video, Jared attempts to claim that two different people tweeting out accusations, and later deleting them serves as legitimate evidence. While it is sketchy, and does make the two accusers look a bit unreliable (more on that in a moment) there are a multitude of other reasons they could’ve deleted the tweets, aside from them simply being liars, so this point is irrelevant. Not long after, Jared makes the claim, that “if both of us have a claim but no evidence, then it’s a simple case of my word against theirs.” And while that is correct, it doesn’t actually make his argument any better. He only did it to make himself look more reliable than the opposition, which was also the purpose of showing the deleted tweets. The reason these two things wouldn’t have mattered, is because he goes on to disprove both accusers claims anyway, so he had no point to mention the deleted tweets nor his “two unsupported claims against each other” argument besides to turn the audiences opinions of the situation in his favor. Touching more on the accusers, there were actually three of them. Only three that Jared mentions, at least, and shockingly, all three people can pretty easily be disproved with about an hour of research. Why would Jared choose these three people? Easy. He included their accusations and their accusations only because he wanted to paint the entire opposition as unreliable, untrustworthy, and frankly, as liars.

The way in which Jared paints his opposition as opposed to himself is his other main way of getting the viewer to sway to his side. One of the main things Jared does throughout the entire video, especially in the beginning, is he only refers to the opposition in ways that makes them seem untrustworthy. For example, only referring to things that people said about him as “accusations,” even after they are essentially proven as fact. Including still, after three months, claiming that he never actually cheated on Heidi, despite being disproved again and again and again. He also frequently brings up facts that are only vaguely relevant. About halfway through the video he states that one of his accuser’s evidence is invalid because she did not provide every single little screenshot of all the conversations that happened between them, which frankly, makes no sense. A person who is attempting to make a legitimate accusation against someone would not include every single little detail if they didn’t have to. Jared then quickly proves that this person left out evidence that Jared was unaware that this person was a minor. Again, this is a case of Jared including unnecessary details in order to make the opposition seem worse than he. Another example of this is when Jared mentions that The Game Grumps deleted every video that included him in it, and states that this is an example of the mob mentality of the opposition, which also only vaguely makes sense. There are, again, a multitude of other reasons why The Game Grumps could’ve deleted the videos, for example, to avoid any unnecessary attention that would come from being associated with a man who potentially cheated on his wife. Game grumps is a very large company and who knows how many people would have their careers ruined or heavily damaged if people found them guilty by association. Perhaps the biggest case of Jared misrepresenting his opposition is at the very end of the video, he mentions that, “of the countless drama channels that made videos about me, not one of them came to ask me about the situation or hear my side of the story.” While this may or may not be true, it’s not hard to see that Jared clearly presents everyone other than him as either unreliable, a harasser, or an attention seeking part of the “mob” which Jared frequently refers to it as. And while yes, technically, it WAS a mob of sorts, Jared was not treated any differently from any other celebrity or public figure that has had a scandal surrounding them revealed, and I don’t think Jared realizes that.

Aside from blatant lies, half-truths, and manipulation that is rampant throughout this video, there are countless other things that aren’t exactly morally correct, per se. I’m using near direct quotes in order to more accurately present the sheer moral, almost corruptness of Jared. The first two quotes in regards to him receiving sexually explicit pictures (despite having a wife) that caught my eye were as follows: “It doesn’t matter how neutral the intent was, being in this situation causes a power imbalance.” Shortly followed by “I feel like what I was doing was unhealthy, not predatory.” It doesn’t take much to see that these quotes show that A) he knows that what he was doing caused a very clear power imbalance between the two parties, and B) he doesn’t believe he’s necessarily a bad person for doing it. Whether Jared actually slept with Holly while still with his wife is up for debate, however, it is a fact that while married, he received sexually explicit pictures from women likely far younger than him and that he doesn’t believe that this is in any way predatory. As he mentions, being a public figure essentially gives you power over anyone you interact with online, especially in a sexual setting. Jared being a known influencer with lots of young fans who interacts with certain fans in a sexual manor and setting is morally gray enough. But to do that while in a legal committed relationship with someone else is beyond immoral. Another incredibly sketchy thing that Jared says is that in response to the argument “why don’t you ask for the women’s ID to see if they’re actually 18?” Jared replies, “It would be difficult and ineffective to do that. IDs can be easily faked and edited. It would also essentially doxx any woman that wants to send pictures.” Which yes. He is 100% correct in saying this. However, any moral person would, if unable to confirm if the pictures they’re receiving are from a minor or not, would simply not accept pictures. But we know that Jared isn’t a moral person. Any man that is remotely ok with even the possibility of the pictures he receives being from minors is not a morally conscious man.

In conclusion, Jared made his opposition out to be bullies, told lies and half truths to all his fans through this entire ordeal, manipulated his audience, was and CONTINUED to be at very best morally gray, and then STILL had the nerve to act like a victim when people tweeted clown emojis at him. I will never believe Jared in anything he says, and you shouldn’t either.

[fireintheforest]

Fight

The door to the Den opened one hour earlier from its normal opening hours. A Redguard woman and her Altmer companion entered, both talking in what at first sounded as an argument.

“-just how you get hit by a rock and don’t feel the blood!”

“Amara, one is fine, it’s nothing. One has had worst.”

“Didn’t you check?”

“One did, it wasn’t bleeding and it doesn’t even notice. You didn’t see it until one tied one’s hair up.” The pair went up the stairs and to the bedrooms, continuing the conversation.

“So you were just going to let it go on?”

“Of course not, one didn’t even know it was there.” Somewhere amidst the various people getting ready for the night in makeup, jewelry, perfumes, silks, leathers and laces, Rialas’s laugh ringed above the noise.

“Let me see it.”

“Amara, you already saw it. One is fine.”

“Let me see it again, I just got a brief glance.”

He rolled his eyes, but nonetheless entered Amara’s room, followed by her. He got on his knees, bowed his head and moved his hair forward, his hands keeping it from sliding back.

“Don’t touch one’s hair, though. Please.”

“Not gonna…” Amara’s reply wasn’t completed, but she added “Huh so…it looks ok? I mean, I can see the cut and you’ll have a bruise for a bit. But it’s not bleeding.”

“Of course not. One told you one was fine.” He stood up and pushed his hair back, “Get ready, one will do the same. One will wash it off, change one’s clothes and it’ll be like nothing happened.”

“If you say so. See you out there.” Amara replied as Saufinril stepped out of the room.

 Having that happened some hours ago, at the present moment Amara was talking with customers while Saufinril was with the bartender. Jagga after jagga after jagga got served at the bar while the acrobats made their alluring number to an awes crowd. Saufinril had just gotten back to the bar after cleaning some tables when Muraz slid to him.

“No.” Saufinril replied at once

“Hey-oh, you rude little thing! I hadn’t even told you what I need.”

“One just needs to guess. Are you going to, let’s see, sneak out and need one to distract your mother?”

“No. For once, no.”

Saufinril put the pitcher down, eyebrows arched and a grin in his face.

“Well, look who is growing up!”

“Oh, shut up.”

“When are you paying taxes?”

“The day you stop rubbing charcoal on your eyes. You look like a spectre.”

“Excuse you, but it took one a good while to master the art of makeup and one will not be disrespected or antagonized tonight by a child.”

“It took you long and all you came up with was that?”

“Begone, whore! What do you want?”

“What is this that I hear of a battlewound?”

“Pure lies, because one hasn’t had anyone suck one’s neck in a while.”

“No-you call one a whore while your mind parties in the gutter. Obscene mer. You and your filthy morals. Step aside, lest you dirty my innocence.”

“What innocence, how dare you? Saying that with a straight face, as if our professions had swapped.” Muraz laughed, and when it died down, Saufinril served a patron and continued, “Some…man threw a rock at one just because one collided with him.”

“What were you looking to achieve with that?”

“Nothing! It was an accident.”

“Oh. He threw a rock?”

“Yeah, like an animal.”

“What did you do?”

“One was going to fight him but the ninny had bodyguards, plus got the Thalmor on top of one. Imagine, the brat threw one a rock and stepped back for his guards to deal with it!”

“What a fool. Hey, it’s not that I don’t think you couldn’t take him and his friends easily, because you could, but I’m glad you got stopped. Lest you got in bigger trouble.”

“Mmh. So, slow night?”

“Looks like it.” Muraz looked around, “Amara seems to be luring those sailors, and Elias is upstairs with a marriage, but otherwise it’s slow.”

“But one saw some people-”

Saufinril was interrupted when Lienil turned to him and exclaimed, to hear herself above the chatting and music, to take an order back to a table by the 3rd row from the stage.

“Coming up!” Saufinril pulled the glasses and started to serve the drinks. Muraz went on, “Did you tell the boss? Or Rialas?”

“No, it wasn’t that big of a deal. One’s bruise will heal in two days or so and nothing else happened from it so it’s not important.”

“Fair enough.” Muraz observed Saufinril prepare the drinks and set them on a tray before asking, “Hey, I need some advice-”

“Ah, um-let one deliver this and then one will be back to listen.” Saufinril picked up the tray and moved towards the table indicated (and he did not feel a bitter tug when he realized the table he had to serve was the table where Kartan dumped him), where he started serving the 2 jaggas and 3 rotmeths. The table had two Breton men, one female Bosmer and two male Dunmer. The Bosmer, the second she saw him, gave him a smile.

“Thank you, dear.” She had a nice, light voice, “Not that many Altmer that aren’t Thalmor in here, hmm?”

Saufinril not only chose not to answer, but was also beat to it by one of her male companions, who leaned towards her and whispered to her ear.

“Let him be, Nasli. Focus on the thing at hand, please? For once.”

The Dunmeris on the other end of the table caught his ear. Maybe he was rusty in it, but he thought he caught some words like “believe her?”, “No”, “fake wounds” and “father”. Saufinril did a quick glance to her wrists (indeed wrapped in bandages) and then a discreet glance at the Dunmer as he served the drinks. They didn’t look like inexperienced scoundrels nor sound like common brutes, so chances are they were with the Guild. The first Dunmer had both sides of his head shaved, probably to show off the Valor tattoo in the left side of him. He also possessed a sharp nose and big eyes. The other Dunmer looked older than the first, his hair reached his shoulders but that didn’t keep Saufinril from noticing the scar that went from the right side of his neck, under his jaw, to the front towards the collarbone. Nor did it keep him from seeing the sharp cheekbones.

“So!” The younger Dunmer said in Common, turning to the other three people and looking interested, “Greenheart, huh?”

The sudden change from quiet Dunmeris to cheerful Common made Saufinril look at the Dunmer again, only to run into the older Dunmer’s gaze looking at him directly. He’d probably gotten too close for the Dunmer’s taste and was uncomfortable with the proximity. But that was a nice, sharp eye shape he had. Saufinril placed the last drink, “Anything else one can help you with?”

“That’d be it, thanks.” The other man replied glumly. Avoiding the Dunmer’s gaze, Saufinril gave a quick nod and turned around, leaving at once. He still felt stares on his back but acted like it wasn’t so, heading to the bar.

 Indeed, the last Dunmer had held his gaze while the waiter walked away. The Dunmer’s sight lowered from the Altmer’s head, to the hair, then shoulders, back, lower back and the….jackpot. Nice.

 Muraz was not at the bar anymore, so Saufinril went on to clean tables. Half an hour later, back at the bar, he was setting aside some empty bottles of rotmeth when he heard someone ordering behind him:

“Hey, a bottle of jagga and a rotmeth. Move it, come on. I don’t have all night.”

Saufinril turned to snap back at the rude customer.

“Well look!” the ginger Imperial sneered, an arm around Samin, the Bosmer girl with the slanted, fully black eyes, “Should’ve recognized you from that bruise. Hopefully you’re less of a klutz while working. Move it! Unless I tell your boss and get you fired.”

M’Azina, another bartender, caught that and just scoffed quietly under her breath at that before moving back to the customer she was attending. The ginger adversary was surrounded by two other men, both Breton, (none of which were the bodyguards from earlier) and two other girls that worked here.

“Well? Move it!”

Saufinril pulled out a vase he had at hand, then placed it in front of him so it was between himself and the rude man. He took the bottle of rotmeth, opened it, served the liquid, put it away-

“Approach it to my hand! Do you expect me to reach all the way there and grab it? I’ll look like an idiot! You suck at this job. You can’t do anything right. You high elves claim racial superiority wh-”

He was cut off when Saufinril grabbed him by the hair and slammed him headfirst into the glass, which broke with a clashing sound, sending rotmeth and blood flying. Samin yelled and stepped back, as Saufinril lifted him again and slammed him a second time. The adversary, having been caught by surprise, grabbed Saufinril’s wrist but the third slam to the table and glass came anyways. One of the ginger’s companions threw a punch at Saufinril, who dodged (while pressing the ginger to the table, who was screaming at the top of his lungs) and punched the second man with his free hand. He staggered and hit one of the Dunmer from the earlier table that were on their way out, making its mohawked companion punch the man. The older Dunmer grabbed his buddy’s shoulder, starting to instruct him not to do anything, when the man punched back. Then the older Dunmer punched the human.

Meanwhile, after Saufinril had punched the man that was now fighting two Dunmer, the ginger escaped his grip, causing Saufinril to jump over the counter . In less time than Lienil expected, around 6 people were fighting at the same time-no, wait. Seven. An Argonian got involved and her two other mates were trying to stop her, the Dunmer had ganged up on the man, the other man had run out of the Den with a bloody nose, and Saufinril was beating the ginger while yelling in Altmeris like he was possessed.

“Nuh-uh! No!” Mama Fro’s voice came over the chaos, “Rialas, get your husband!”

Rialas, however, was more invested in egging the fight on from the balcony that oversaw the Den, his laugh ringing like a bird’s call in the forest.

“The legs! Throw him to the ground, kynd, the legs!” he yelled. Indeed, the next moment the ginger was on the ground and Saufinril was straddling him. Punches and kicks hit his body all around, bit his biggest focus was on punching, scratching, slapping, hurting the Imperial’s body while he held his hands up in protection and called for help.

“Saufinril, no!” Muraz yelled next to him, pulling him up even as the Altmer resisted.

“I’m dying! Help! I got attacked!” the ginger wailed. The fight thinned; the Argonians dragged their friend out and back to their table, Lienil was kicking the Dunmer out and the other human took to helping his ginger friend up.

“He can’t even stand up!” Rialas laughed. When he saw the adversary stand up and limp to the exit, Saufinril wiggled free from Muraz’s grip. Another hand, nevertheless, grabbed him firmly by the arm. Saufinril turned to snap at whoever had grabbed him to let him go, only to run into Lillandril’s stern blue eyes.

[evilincarnatemoon]

Character Profile

+1 to be graced by the beauty of Dr.Sofen ꧁ ❦ | · Karla Sofen · | ❦ ꧂

【 Biodata 】 Name: Karla Sofen Aliases: Dr Sofen, Moonstone, Kate Sorenson,  Meteorite,  Ms. Marvel Sex:  Female Age:  Late twenties to early thirties Species: Human Mutate Race: American Relationship Status: Single Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual Occupation: Psychiatrist, SHIELD consultant,  Initiative psychology teacher, Thief Education :  Medical Doctorate and Psychiatry Doctorate, Masters in Psychology [Undergraduate] UC-DAVIS California, USA Place of Creation: Captain America (1968) #192 » ━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━ « 【 Physical Specifics 】 Hair: Blonde Eyes: Blue Height: 5’11 Weight: 130 Ilbs (59 kg) » ━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━ « 【 Relations 】 ❦ Karl Sofen    Relation: Father    Status: Deceased ❦ Marion Sofen    Relation: Mother    Status: Deceased   » ━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━ « 【 Quotes 】 “Wh-what are you doing to me? I’m – I’m Moonstone again? I’ve been ‘reality-punched?’ That’s the stupidest @#%* thing I’ve ever heard of .” ”It always amuses me how people so ready to do the Devil’s work fall into asking for God’s help when things don’t play out as planned ” ” It’s hard to confront the deep truths about ourselves. Naturally you flee them at first  ” » ━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━ « 【 Personality 】 Dr. Sofen defines herself by her intelligence. And she is defined by a bitter, vengeful desire for social revenge and showing the world who’s the boss and who’s the bitch. She’s a user and a predator, desiring to be as independent and high-status as possible, through both money and influence.Sofen is proud of having neither morals nor ethics. She sees those as yet another set of constraints that only applies to suckers with a less prodigious IQ than her own. She regrets nothing and stops at nothing. Her only goal is to make it big. She’s greedy, and very open about it.But she is also smart and disciplined enough than it doesn’t constitute an Irrational Attraction in game terms. It was a while before she began to want to change. Or before she admitted it to herself, anyway. She seemed to initially stay with the others for the safety of numbers. The desire to redeem herself was so different from her normal way of being and thinking that it took a long time, and intervention by an alien intelligence, to make her understand that she actually wanted it. She never quite got the being a hero part though. Karla constantly questioned herself about whether she was simply doing what others wanted her to. Her superiority and need for independence make it difficult for her to ask others for help.  She developed a big-sisterly affection for Jolt, and romantic feelings towards Hawkeye, both of which could have influenced her path.Indeed, she worried it was Hawkeye’s influence in particular which had guided her down this path. This doubt may have stopped her being as committed to the relationship as she might otherwise have been. » ━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━ « 【 Background History 】 Karla grew up in the mansion of a Hollywood producer, the child of a butler. After her father died, her mother worked three jobs to put her daughter through college, and Karla vowed never to end up like her mother, to never put another’s needs before her own. Despite building a successful psychological practice, Karla so disliked being dependent on her patients for income that she entered the super-criminal world as an aide to Doctor Faustus. Learning of Moonstone (Lloyd Bloch), she became his psychologist and manipulated him into rejecting the source of his powers, an extraterrestrial gem of considerable power, which she then absorbed to gain the powers of Moonstone. Karla worked briefly for the Corporation, controlling the Hulk and manipulating General “Thunderbolt” Ross into a nervous breakdown. She continued to pursue greater power, stealing Curt Connors’ Enervator and searching the moon’s surface for further moonstone fragments. First Egghead and then Baron Zemo recruited Moonstone for their Masters of Evil, and she aided each against the Avengers. After the last of these fights, she decided to serve out her prison term and give up her criminal life. However, when Zemo formed a group of villains to masquerade as heroes, he broke Moonstone out of the Vault and she returned to villainy as the Thunderbolt Meteorite. Upon encountering a young victim of Arnim Zola’s genetic manipulations, a youngster by the name of Jolt, Moonstone nudged Zemo into accepting her in the team. She soon became a mother figure to Jolt and used her enthusiasm to create a power-base inside the team, rallying the others behind her. Zemo exposed the true nature of the team, but Moonstone opposed him, followed by MACH-1, Songbird, and Jolt. Zemo had brainwashed the Fantastic Four and the Avengers, but the small team of Thunderbolts, with the help of Iron Man, was able to defeat Zemo and Techno, his ally. After the battle the Thunderbolts had decided to pay for their crimes, but they were unwittingly teleported to an alternate dimension. In this world, known as Kosmos, Moonstone led the team to safety from the Kosmosian army and eventually executed the Kosmosian Primotur to ensure their return to Earth. Inspired by Jolt, she made the Thunderbolts see that it would be preferable to work for their redemption as heroes, rather than to be in jail. After gaining fake identities for the team, she led them away from S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Lightning Rods, and she managed to defeat Graviton using her psychological skills, making him see that he did not truly have a goal, that he lacked vision . However, the Thunderbolts disagreed with her, for she merely thought of the present and did not care for the future consequences of her actions. When the former Avenger known as Hawkeye joined the team, claiming they would be pardoned if they followed him, she stepped down as leader and allowed him to get the position. Soon after the Thunderbolts fought the new Masters of Evil, a veritable army of supervillains, and Moonstone decided to betray the team. But something inside of her snapped, and she defeated Crimson Cowl and returned to the team. Weeks after, Graviton returned, having pondered the words of Karla. He took over the city of San Francisco, turning it into an island in the skies. Thunderbolts attempted to stop him, but they were captured. Graviton offered Moonstone a place at his side, as his queen, but she laughed in his face. As the youngest members of the team saved them, Moonstone wondered why she didn’t take Graviton’s offer. During a mission against the Secret Empire, she become romantically involved with Hawkeye. But as time went by, she became haunted by nightmares of an ancient alien warrior woman, who whispered in her thoughts. Soon after, the team was targeted by Scourge, who killed Jolt. The death of the youngster hit Karla deeply. Subsequently, Citizen V asked for help against her own team, the V-Battalion, and the Thunderbolts agreed to do so, engaging the V-Battalion’s operatives in battle. Karla was torn about fighting them, for they were heroes. She released a surge of her powers to stop the fight, making them all intangible, and fled, trying to find out what was wrong with her. Her first stop was Attilan, but the Inhumans were gone. She then searched the Fantastic Four’s computers and found the answer she was looking for. She flew under her own power to the Blue Area of the Moon, where she sought the Kree Supreme Intelligence and demanded the truth. The Supreme Intelligence revealed to her that the fragment she referred to as the “Moonstone” was part of a Kree Lifestone, which used to empower the Guardians of the Galaxy centuries ago. The alien warrior woman that haunted her dreams was the previous owner of the moonstone, whose memory was etched into it, and kept steering Karla into the path of heroism. The Thunderbolts managed to catch up with her, and so did Captain Marvel, who offered her help. Led by Captain Marvel, the Thunderbolts went to Titan, where Mentor and ISAAC attempted to remove the moonstone from Karla’s body. After a serious discussion about Karla’s potential to do good, Mentor allowed her to keep the gem but erased the memory of the previous owner, leaving Karla’s mind, and by consequence, her decisions, to herself. The team returned to Earth, only to find Jolt alive. She exposed Hawkeye, revealing the pardons Hawkeye promised would not be honored. Soon, the Thunderbolts chased Scourge, who was being manipulated by Henry Peter Gyrich. Thunderbolts fought the V-Battalion’s Redeemers but eventually teamed up with them to defeat Gyrich, who was being manipulated as well. Valerie Cooper offered the Thunderbolts pardon for saving the world from her own people, with the condition that they would hang up their heroic identities forever. Karla Sofen was soon contacted by Graviton, who hired her as a tutor. In the following weeks Karla helped Graviton understand and control his powers in ways he had not even dreamed, making him fall in love with her. Graviton soon attacked the Redeemers, slaughtering the team. He also managed to keep many of Earth’s heroes unmoving in the sky, as he lifted hundreds of cities all over the world as well, for he wanted to reshape the face of Earth into a semblance of his face. The Thunderbolts re-formed to stop him, only to find Karla at his side. In the end, she hesitated fighting them and helped them stop Graviton. However, his power imploded, sending most of the Thunderbolts to Counter-Earth. While trapped on Counter-Earth, the Thunderbolts became true heroes at last, rescuing thousands in their flying city, Attilan. Karla was given the task of reshaping the minds of the world’s leaders, creating a new way of thought to ensure the survival of all. Soon after, Karla removed a second moonstone from that world’s Lloyd Bloch (known there as the Phantom Eagle), dramatically increasing her own powers. The Thunderbolts eventually returned to Earth, leaving Jolt and the Young Allies to complete their task of saving Counter-Earth. When the Avengers later interfered in the Thunderbolts’ plan to control the world’s “transnormal energy”, a failsafe was triggered– a device that Karla had planted in her private plot against Zemo. The stolen energy was funneled into her moonstones, further increasing her powers. Karla attempted to use this energy to flee, but the Thunderbolts and Avengers combined forces to stop her. In the end, Zemo ended up in possession of both moonstones and Karla was left comatose. After recovering, Karla reunited with the Thunderbolts first with Zemo then under the leadership of Norman Osborn. Eventually she took the mantle of Ms. Marvel when Osborn created his version of the Avengers. Once that venture failed miserably, after the siege of Asgard, Karla found herself back in the Raft prison, but again she was allowed to participate in the Thunderbolts program now led by Luke Cage. » ━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━ « 【 Abilities 】 The Moonstone embedded in Karla’s body works through manipulation of gravity, and gives her a large toolbox of powers. She has high level super strength, speed, and durability. She is able to manipulate her density and the density of objects around her, allowing her to become intangible and phase through objects and attacks. She can manipulate gravity directly, using it to bend light (making her invisible), increase the gravitational pull of things around her, absorb energy, and even teleport. She can project beams of light as powerful lasers or simply emit bright light to blind opponents. She is a brilliant psychologist and uses her insight and way with words to get into the minds of her opponents in the middle of fights and effectively manipulate them Along with this ability, Karla also has perfect control over her voice. She can alter her pitch and modulation to varying degrees to literally drive a man crazy, as shown with what she did to Red-Hulk.. She is a skilled fighter and can fly at high speeds. She can generate and alter her costume at will, and can regenerate from wounds at a heightened rate. » ━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━ « 【 Themes 】 ❦ A Beautiful Lie [ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Kvd-uquuhI ] ❦ Pray 【https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lLwKCdxN9vk 】 » ━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━۵━ « [| Admin’s introduction |] [| Hello, I see you’ve stumbled unto this other account of mine, whereby I roleplay as the human mutate who happens to be a hero/ villain  Karla . Karla is an intricate villainous woman who I shall portray to the best of my ability and these are things you can expect to find here |] ~ Things related to the Marvel Universe ~ Quotes and edits on Moonstone ~ Roleplays ~ Admin posts/ shitposting for those moments when I feel so uninspired [[ And these are just some of the things  I wish to lay down  ]] 1) I wish to emphasize  when I’m speaking in character, I shall be using ❝ ❞ and for ooc character interactions , I shall be using [[ ]] or the dashes. 2) I’m a fairly nice person (despite the nature of the character I am rping as) so don’t be afraid to ask me if you wish to rp. My replies varies on how many lines one could reply with or if I’m feeling rather inspired during such moment so don’t worry if you think if your reply is too short or too long. Also if I seem to be taking too long on a rp, it’s either I  forgot or I got busy. 3 ) No starting any sort of  unnecessary drama on my account please for I wish to get along with everyone. With that said, if you have a problem with something I said or posted, don’t be afraid to talk to me about it so we can solve the issue.

[confrontingbabble-on]

“Some of the world’s largest religions emerged during the Iron Age, and the rules in their sacred texts likely helped families and communities (or at least some subset) to thrive under Iron Age conditions. Today, we live under very different conditions. We know things our ancestors didn’t. We hold powers and face challenges they could not have imagined.

Here are a few of the moral mandates from the Abrahamic religions (Judaism, Christianity and Islam) that some people still practice on religious grounds but that a growing number of others consider morally dubious given our current circumstances and knowledge.

Hitting children—The Hebrew Bible instructs parents to beat their children, most explicitly in Proverbs 23: “Do not withhold discipline from a child; if you punish them with the rod, they will not die. Punish them with the rod and save them from death.” Traditional Muslim teachings exhort parents to beat boys if they don’t pray regularly by the age of seven.

Research in psychology contradicts this advice, pointing to few if any developmental benefits and an increased risk of aggression in children who are hit. Parenting experts suggest better means of raising children and managing misbehavior. Even religious leaders who may feel obliged to approve spanking because it is endorsed in their sacred texts (some of whom fiercely defend the god-given right of parents to hit their kids) now tend to send mixed messages and encourage other forms of discipline first.

Teaching children to rely on faith— Religions often treat faith or even religious certitude as a virtue. In fact, in Protestant Christianity it is the ultimate virtue, the one that sends people to heaven or hell. Believe and be saved, says the Christian New Testament, and one of the tenets of the Reformation was sola fide—by faith alone. Defenders of Christianity may marshal logic or evidence to support belief, but when backed into a corner, many default to I just know—and they teach children to do the same.

By contrast, modern cognitive science recognizes the sense of knowing as a feeling state that can be triggered under a wide variety of circumstances, not all of which have a basis in reality. Advocates for secularism argue that faith, by definition, means committing to a set of beliefs that are poorly grounded—or even contradict the best available evidence. We humans are prone to confirmation bias, for example, or self-serving “motivated” reasoning.

In belief-based religions like Christianity and Islam, doubt is seen as a sign of weakness or a moral failing, a sin. But knowing what we now know about human cognition, faith increasingly looks like a bad epistemology, a not-very-effective way of sifting what is real from what is not. By contrast, the scientific method has been called “What we know about how not to fool ourselves,” because it forces us to ask the questions that could show us wrong. Unlike faith in received dogma, the scientific method promotes a growth mindset. This is one reason that a growing number of people see religious indoctrination of children as an abuse of trust.

Restrictions on women’s movement and attire – Religious modesty and virginity rules for women emerged when a person’s place in society depended on paternal lineage. Women and men had no way of managing their fertility other than abstinence; and mama’s baby, papa’s maybe could create social havoc. Societies had a strong investment in controlling female fertility.

Modernity values people based on who they are, not on their lineage; and women now have reliable means to manage their fertility. Our life course need not be defined by the form of our genitalia. But male ownership of girls and women is so foundational in the Abrahamic traditions that conservative believers often find themselves most comfortable with gender hierarchy. Conservative Christians promote “male headship”—a version of separate-but-equal; conservative Muslims rationalize veiling—which (though it can mean different things to different believers) is rooted in male ownership of female sexuality; Orthodox Jews demand that women shave their heads and ride on separate sides of the bus.

Fortunately, although religions may slow cultural evolution, they rarely succeed in stopping it altogether. Even within conservative religious communities, leaders often claim that restrictive practices elevate women and offer them genuine equality. Their thinking may be Orwellian, but it is a far cry from that of the men who wrote the sacred texts, for whom male dominance and control of females was simply a given.

Pronatalism – “Be fruitful and multiply,” God tells man in the book of Genesis. Throughout the Bible, sons are seen as signs of God’s favor, the more the better. In the Christian New Testament book of 1 Timothy, readers are told that women, who brought sin into the world, will be saved by childbearing (2:15). The Roman Catholic Church, when it emerged, promoted a high birthrate—not among priests, which would have been a drain on church assets—but among lay practitioners, which added to the ranks of the faithful.

Today some devout Catholics and quiver-full Protestants (along with ultra-orthodox Jews and fundamentalist Muslims) still see bearing many children as a form of righteous submission to God’s will. They eschew family planning, taking a “let go and let God” approach to birth control. But as world population approaches eight billion, putting increasing pressure on natural resources and other species, many people now view large families the same way they might view gluttony. Most, including most religious believers, think it is more moral to take excellent care of a few children than to produce as many as possible.

Proselytizing mandates – Christianity tells believers to “make disciples of every creature,” and over the centuries Christians have sent missionaries to the far reaches of the planet, some willing to kill or die in order to win a “harvest” of converts. They have been celebrated as saints and martyrs, or in modern times as altruistic heroes. But many people now see cross-cultural proselytizing as a form of imperialism that disrespects the complexity of indigenous and foreign cultures.

To make matters more morally dubious, missionaries often leverage their superior access to information and wealth—enticing conversion by bundling evangelism with desperately-needed food, medical care, education or crisis services. To a missionary who sees the threat of hell as the ultimate risk and the promise of heaven as the ultimate good, the ends may justify the means; but outsiders see exploitation of power differentials, which most ethical codes discourage. Some countries now limit or constrain missionary activities to protect vulnerable communities and people.

Kosher slaughter rules – In the Torah, God commands that animals be slaughtered according to religious rules, and over time Jewish scholars fleshed these out. The animal is to have its throat slit with a very sharp knife that has no defects. It must be conscious at the time of the cut and must die from blood loss. These rules may have originally had health value for humans or animal welfare value for livestock, but with the availability of modern stunning, they have become controversial. Stunning animals immediately before slaughter can reduce suffering. Many Muslims think that Halal slaughter rules similarly prohibit stunning, but there is disagreement among Muslim scholars about this. Some animal welfare watchdog groups in Europe and the U.S. have advocated the banning of Kosher and Halal slaughter, while others are working to improve the practices in ways that reduce fear or suffering before and during slaughter.

Capital punishment – The human history of killing offenders goes back almost to the beginnings of written history. Death by axe, death by being thrown into a quagmire, death by beheading (which is where we get the term capital punishment), by boiling, by stoning . . . Over the millennia, all manner of death has been meted out for all manner of offences. The Hebrew Bible prescribes death for almost 30 transgressions ranging from murder and kidnapping to blasphemy and sassing, and the Quran is similarly enthusiastic about execution. (You can compare both texts here, or find out here if you deserve death according to the Bible.) Building on the Abrahamic tradition of blood atonement, the central premise of New Testament Christianity is structured around the idea that punishment by death can set things right.

For two hundred years, opponents of the death penalty have worked to reduce the number of capital offenses and the cruelty of execution methods or to advance philosophical and practical reasons for abolishing state-sanctioned killing altogether. Some of this opposition has been lead by devoutly religious people, and it has shifted thinking in a wide variety of cultures. Over 100 countries have abolished the death penalty.

Intolerance of other religions – In order to recruit and retain members, religions often make exclusive truth claims and promise exclusive rewards. Many also threaten those who fail to join or who choose to leave with punishments in this life or the next. Islam’s prescription of death for apostates is just an extreme version of this broader dynamic.

Inquisitions and holy wars have been seen by past generations as righteous because they compelled people to live according to the one right law. Even short of bloodshed, religious teachings can be profoundly divisive. Calvinist Christianity teaches that human beings are “utterly depraved” and can be redeemed only by accepting the crucifixion of Jesus as a personally-transforming gift. Believers learn to mistrust others, who by definition lack any basis for morality.

But this one-way mentality doesn’t seem as righteous to many as it once did. Today, when faith is compelled through holy war and purges—as under the Taliban or ISIS–most people are morally appalled, and people increasingly see religious tolerance as a virtue rather than the vice our ancestors believed it to be.

– – – – –

Some people believe that the moral rules handed down by our ancestors came from a supernatural deity and should not be questioned or changed. The gods know best, and even if their rules may not entirely make sense, ours is not to question why. In the Evangelical community where I grew up, people sometimes tried to find practical explanations for biblical rules. But when that failed, “because the Bible says so” was reason enough.

By contrast, secular ethics teach that the timeless part of morality is not the rules themselves, nor the authority of the rule-giver, but rather an underlying principle. Morality, in this view, seeks to promote the wellbeing of sentient beings, especially human beings but also other animals. Actions that reduce suffering and harm or increase wellbeing are moral. To maximize wellbeing, rules have to change, because what promotes thriving in one situation may cause harm in another...”

https://valerietarico.com/2018/07/22/when-religious-teachings-become-immoral/

Valerie Tarico is a psychologist and writer in Seattle, Washington.

[opedguy]

White House Information War

LOS ANGELES (OnlineColumnist.com), March 30, 2022.--Saying that 69-year-old Russian President Vladimir Putin is misled by his generals about the poor performance in Ukraine, U.S. intel officials say that Russian officials are afraid to tell him the truth.  If that’s not the kettle calling the pot black then what is?  Biden too doesn’t like to get negative feedback from anyone, let alone his generals.  When he was told that his gaffe in Warsaw saying Russian President Vladimir Putin must leave office, was just one example. Instead of taking constructive feedback from just about everyone foreign and domestic, Biden said he stands by his remarks that Putin must go.  Biden doesn’t see how that undermines the Ukraine War effort, certainly exposing for all to see the U.S. mission in Ukraine.  Yet the White House thinks it’s winning the propaganda battle with the Kremlin, saying Putin’s angry with his generals over the lack of progress on the ground in Ukraine.

White House Communication Director Kate Bedingfield said Putin is not only misled about the war progress but “how the Russian economy is being crippled by sanctions because, again, his senior advisers are too afraid to tell him the truth.”  Bedingfield’s the last one to be trusted knowing she’s fighting the propaganda war with the Kremlin.  Bedingfield would have the world believe that Putin has done no damage in Ukraine, when, in fact, he’s already reduced much of the country to rubble.  Bedingfield’s the first to say how well Ukraine has done to resist Putin’s assault.  With nearly 5 million citizens displaced to neighboring countries and much of Ukraine’s infrastructure destroyed, Bedingfield says Putin, not Ukraine, is not meeting its military objectives.  White House officials think making intel public helps push Putin to end his war in Ukraine.

U.S. officials claim the war has “ground to a bloody stalemate,” despite the widespread destruction done by Putin’s air superiority.  U.S. officials want Putin to know that he’s losing the war, forcing him to throw in the towel.  But when White House officials admit they’ve declassified intel on the war’s progress but only from anonymous sources, it tells the whole story. “What it does is underscore that this has been a strategic blunder for Russia,” Bedingfield staid about the latest intel.  “But I’m not going characterize how . . . how Vladimir Putin might be think about this,” Bedingfield said, knowing that whatever she says would be dismissed as White House propaganda.  Secretary of State Antony Blinken 59, said that Putin’s underlings can’t speak to the boss with any candor.  How did it go for Blinken when he told Joe last Friday that his incendiary rhetoric about Putin wasn’t helpful?

Information warfare goes both ways, grossly overestimating Russian military casualties, some as high as 15,000.  Kremlin officials say they’ve lost under 2,000 soldiers in 35 days of battle, echoing the kind of distortions that goes on both sides.  Where the true picture stands is anyone’s guess.  Believing that the White House is more truthful about the war’s progress is wishful thinking.  “One of the Achilles’ Heels of autocracies is that you don’t have people in those systems that speak truth to power or have the ability to speak truth to power, and I think that’s what we’re seeing in Russia,” Blinken told reporters in Algiers.  Blinken has been one of the most anti-Russia White House critics, accusing Moscow from Day One of human rights abuses, demanding that Putin release 45-year-old dissident Alexi Navalny from prison, knowing how that would antagonize Putin.

When you listen to Bedington and Blinken, they sound like real neophytes fighting a propaganda battle, not realizing that less-is-more.  Giving declassified intel does nothing to convince the enemy of anything.  “We need peace, and its will be achieve it only when we have a strong position on the battlefield.  Our morale is firm, there is enough determination , but we need your immediate support,” Zelensky reportedly told Biden.  Zelensky has been asking for more fighter jets, something that Poland, U.S. and other NATO countries haven’t figured out.  Zelesnky thinks that only one more weapon system, only more fighter jets, only one more antiaircraft weapon would turn the tide in Ukraine’s direction.  Zelensky pretends that morale is high in a country that’s been bombed into rubble by Putin’s air force.  Zelensky needs to stop talking about weapons and start talking about a ceasefire.

As long a Biden continues to throw more cash at Zelensky, the war will trundles on, creating more destruction and carnage for Ukraine.  Whether Biden wants to topple Putin or not, it’s not fair to Ukraine to fight a proxy war with the Russian Federation at the expense of Ukraine’s infrastructure.  Zelensky is kidding himself that all he needs is more weapons, when, what he really needs is a ceasefire agreement. Biden let Putin know he wants him out of the Kremlin, something Kremlin Spokesman Dmitry Peskov said is up to Russian voters not Biden. Whatever information warfare the U.S. uses, it’s not making much difference. Putin continues to bomb Ukraine into submission, despite the Pentagon’s statements about how he’s losing the ground war.  Biden and Zelensky have their best opportunity to end the destruction and carnage in Instanbul, not by giving Ukraine more lethal weapons.

About the Author

John M. Curtis writes politically neutral commentary analyzing spin in national and global news. He’s editor of OnlineColumnist.com and author of Dodging The Bullet and Operation Charisma.