#human ability to tell truth from lies

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Shit Fae!Danny Has Said While Living With Waynes

Danny, making a 'got your nose' gesture: Hey Jason, look, I've got your name!

Red Hood, who suddenly can't remember his own name: What the fuck

Bruce, in a tired dad voice: Danny, please, we talked about this, return your brother's name back

Danny: Oh, come on, it's not like he even uses it

Jason, thankfully remembering his name: And I repeat, what the f u c k

Steph, at dinner: I was wondering, what do faeries even eat normally? Like, flowers and stuff?

Danny, his eyes two black voids inside his eyesockets: The souls of the innocent

Steph: So that's a 'no' on the flowers?

Danny, back to normal and shoving a bagel in his mouth: I mean, I can, but would you want to stay on the crumbs-only diet when you are in a 5-star Michelin restaurant?

Tim: It's actually 3-star. Michelin rating system only has three stars, not five.

Dick: Are you saying that people are basically food joints for Fae?

Damian, at Constantine: It would do you well to choose your wording better when speaking to fair folk-

Danny, very much a fair folk, appearing out of thin air in the Cave: Yolo, s'up bitches, guess who's back in town!

Damian: -even when they do not necessarily do so themselves.

Constantine, looking between them: Are you sure you're the human and he is the changeling?

Tim, 46 hours of no sleep: Hey, if you can take a name from someone, does it mean you can take, like, other things that have no real shape or form?

Danny: Names do have shape and form, they even have taste. Yours is like a ping-pong ball made out of really dense cotton candy with banana-caramel flavor.

Tim, losing his touch with reality: Dense banana cotton candy...

Danny: By the way, I know you wanted to ask me if I could take your need to sleep from you, and theoretically, the answer is yes.

Tim, his whisper full of hope: ...will you?..

Danny: No. Either go to sleep or keep suffering. I'm not here to make your life easier.

Danny, after a half-an-hour rant on the Fae customs and traditions: -and Fae never tell the truth, but also never lie. It's a work of art, you know, say what you want but never in a way that makes sense.

Jason: So Fae just like to fuck with people.

Danny, looking him in the eyes, smiling and winking: Sure, humans are very fuckable.

Bruce, trying very hard not to pay attention to this: Can you make an example?

Danny: Sure. I lied.

Bruce: Where?

Danny: :)

Bruce, feeling like he is about to lose his mind: W h e r e ?

Alfred, right after he heard Dick's muffled screaming in the hallway: Young Master Danny, would you mind returning Master Dick his ability to talk in coherent sentences?

Danny, obediently standing up and walking out of the library: ...okay.

Bruce: How come he always listens to you?

Alfred: He knows what I will do if he doesn't.

Danny, returning to the library: He will change all the silverware to iron-ware. As well as the doorknobs and hairbrushes and lightswitches and everything else.

Alfred: Did you fix Master Dick's shoes?

Danny: I did. But I still think that making all of his shoes left ones was funny.

Alfred: Indeed, it was.

| <-prev | next-> |

There's also a fic now.

[charmedreincarnation]

When I say that this journey is real, and our struggles are not in vain, I am shouting it from the rooftops. A month ago, I woke up with my dream life. Obsessed with the "void state", I woke up one day being the same person but with an entirely new life. All because I chose it.

Your efforts aren't going unnoticed. The universe is always on your side. You are the universe. It's been a month, and I still feel overwhelmed with joy and wonder every single day.

I was once poor and battling depression, a reality many can relate to. But we found the law because we knew we deserved more. You can be ordinary, flawed, even unkind, but you can choose to transform and have it all. And I did just that. My parents, who were illegal immigrants working underpaid jobs, are now wealthy and respected figures. My last name alone garners recognition, and I am a socialite earning money just by being me.

I used to live in an attic infested with cockroaches. Now, I reside in a four-story mansion, complete with exotic cars, house help, cooks, drivers - all treated and compensated fairly. We also own three other houses across the United States.

I was once insecure, severely underweight, and bullied. Today, not only am I stunningly beautiful, but I am also praised for my fashion sense. I was once a dull person, but now I am radiant with positivity.

I attended an underfunded school where I was bullied, and teachers lacked resources to intervene. Now, I study at a prestigious private school that assures my entry into an Ivy League university. Finally, I am respected and appreciated.

I was lonely and uninteresting. Now, I am vibrant with a close-knit group of friends and a man who seems straight out of a Wattpad story. He's perfect, and he's mine.

This transformation happened overnight. And I've been on this journey since 2020. But how??? I surrendered to my imagination!

The void was overwhelming, but now I can easily navigate it. I was tired of giving my power away. So, I gave in to myself, to my dreams. I knew I deserved it. Even if I didn't believe it at times, I made the choice. If you desire something, it's already yours. It's done.

I didn't have a list or anything of my desires, just a vision of happiness. I didn't know what it looked like, but I knew how it felt. Now, I embody that feeling every day. My life is a series of plot twists. It's not perfect, but my worst days now are what I once prayed for. That old life? POOF It's gone. All I have is now, and I'm living it to the fullest.

My advice?

Stop seeking proof. If you're looking for proof, you'll never manifest your dreams because the only thing that needs to change is self. Doubt is a reflection of your disbelief in yourself. When I surrendered to my imagination, it didn't matter who was lying or telling the truth, because I had my truth. The burden of proof lies within you. It's called the law of assumption. You might harbor some doubt, but you must have faith like the devout. They believe without proof. You can too! We all can! Believe in yourself, and the universe will conspire in your favor!!!!

I agree! Your words resonated with me a lot. Faith, particularly self-faith, is such an important tool in shaping our realities. The ability to trust ourselves, our desires, and our potential is essential in manifesting our dream life, and it’s only so beautiful to slowly see yourself give yourself all your trust when you’ve never even liked yourself.

You're spot on about the issue of seeking confirmation from others. It's an unnecessary hurdle that we give ourselves but it’s human nature. Our truths and dreams should not be validated by anyone else but us. As you said, why should it matter if someone lied or told the truth? We are the creators of our own lives and thus, the only validation we need comes from within.

And I wholeheartedly agree with your point about deservingness. We don't have to earn our desires or prove ourselves worthy of them. If we want something, that desire alone makes us deserving of it.

More importantly I am very proud and happy for you !!!! You’re a testament of what our own imagination can do for us and I hope you only keep getting happier and happier <3!!!!

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

[wishfulfilled]

some neville goddard quotes i find helpful:

❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅

“You are already that which you want to be, and your refusal to believe this is the only reason you do not see it.”

“I know of no clearer definition of the means by which we realize our desires than to EXPERIENCE IN THE IMAGINATION WHAT WE WOULD EXPERIENCE IN THE FLESH WERE WE TO ACHIEVE OUR GOAL.”

“The best denial is total indifference. Things wither and die through indifference. They are kept alive through attention. You do not deny a thing by saying it does not exist.”

“By imagination we have the power to be anything we desire to be.”

“To reach a higher level of being, you must assume a higher concept of yourself.”

“Although you may now seem to be what you do not want to be, all you need do to change it, and to prove the change by circumstances in your world, is to quietly assume that you are that which you now want to be, and in away you do not know you will become it.”

”Man must firmly come to believe that reality lies within him and not without.”

”Whatever the mind of man can conceive and feel as true, the subconscious can and must objectify.”

“As soon as you succeed in convincing yourself of the reality of the state sought, results follow to confirm your fixed belief.”

“As soon as man assumes the feeling of his wish fulfilled, his fourth dimensional Self finds ways for the attainment of this end, discovers methods for its realization.”

“Through your ability to think and feel, you have dominion over all creation.”

“Capture the feeling associated with your realized wish by assuming the feeling that would be yours were you already in possession of the thing you desire, and your wish will objectify itself.”

“You are that which you believe yourself to be.”

“Everything we do, unaccompanied by a change of consciousness, is but futile readjustment of surfaces.”

“Humanity is a single being in spite of its many forms and faces, and there is in it only such seeming separation as we find in our own being when we are dreaming.”

“As soon as we succeed in transforming self, our world will dissolve and reshape itself in harmony with that which our change affirms.”

“That is; you say silently but feelingly to yourself, “I AM.” Do not condition this 'awareness' as yet. Just declare yourself to be, and continue to do so, until you are lost in the feeling of just being – faceless and form- less. When this expansion of consciousness is attained, then, within this formless deep of yourself give form to the new conception by FEELING yourself to be THAT which you desire to be.”

“It does not matter what it is you desire to have done, or whom you select to do it. As soon as you subjectively affirm that it is done, results follow.”

“Failure is always due to an antagonistic auto-suggestion by the patient, arising from objective doubt of the power of medicine or relic, or from doubt of the truth of the theory.”

“Imagination and faith are the secrets of creation.”

“You have nothing to do but convince yourself of the truth of that which you desire to see manifested.”

“Our subconscious assumptions continually externalize themselves that others may consciously see us as we subconsciously see ourselves, and tell us by their actions what we have subconsciously assumed of ourselves to be.”

“Do not question the how of these things appearing, for no man knows that way.”

“Become indifferent and begin to feel yourself to be that which would be the solution of the problem.”

“You do not visualize yourself at a distance in point of space and at a distance in point of time being congratulated on your good fortune. Instead, you make elsewhere HERE, and the future NOW. The future event is a reality NOW in a dimensionally larger world and oddly enough, now in a dimensionally larger world is equivalent to HERE in the ordinary three dimensional space of everyday life.”

“Every dream could be realized by those self-disciplined enough to believe it.”

“Life does not care whether you call yourself rich or poor; strong or weak. It will eternally reward you with that which you claim as true of yourself.”

“The reason most of us fail to realize our desires is because we are constantly conditioning them. Do not condition your desire. Just accept it as it comes to you.”

“Creation is finished.”

“The reason men condition their desires is because they constantly judge after the appearance of being and see the things as real – forgetting that the only reality is the consciousness back of them.”

“Begin now to mentally see and feel yourself as that which you want to be, and feast upon that sensation morning, noon, and night.”

“Consciousness is the one and only reality.”

“Instead of trying to change others through argument and force, let me but ascend in consciousness to a higher level and I will automatically change others by changing myself.”

“Because consciousness is the only reality I must assume that I am already that which I desire to be. If I do not believe that I am already what I want to be, then I remain as I am and die in this limitation.”

“Assume the feeling of your wish fulfilled and continue feeling that it is fulfilled until that which you feel objectifies itself.”

“The future dream must become a present fact in the mind of him who seeks to realize it.”

“Feed the mind with premises that is, assertions presumed to be true, be- cause assumptions, though false, if persisted in until they have the feeling of reality, will harden into fact.”

“That God exists in us and we in him.”

“The Bible gives it as three days; the duration is three days for responsein this world. If I would now assume I am what I want to be, and if I am faithful to it and walk as though I were, the very longest stretch given for its realization is three days.”

❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅ ❅

[vesora]

the spoon does not exist. - movie scene linked

the straight spoon does not exist without your awareness of it.

you do not bend the spoon, you bend yourself. you bend your awareness. the spoon is illusory. perception is subjective.

"What he sees before him is not a spoon, but rather an idea his brain has created of a spoon—his own perception. He can change reality by changing his perception."

"Neo remembers this exchange as he becomes more confident in his ability to break the rules of the Matrix. All he has to do is remember that the rules he breaks aren’t actual rules. Just as there is no spoon, there is no gravity, there is no time—all these things are lies the machines tell his brain. Neo can fly, for example, because he can see gravity is a false construct. Once Neo understands that “there is no spoon,” he gains more power in the Matrix."

using a movie to explain that reality is false may be unorthodox but hear me out. the matrix is simply a sense-based prison. a self-made prison made up of limitations and false constructs. there is no logic, there are no facts, everything is illusory and can be changed but in order for you to gain awareness of a different version of reality you must realise that the spoon is fake.

"Anything is possible in the Matrix, yet Neo’s lifetime of conditioning within this system has kept his belief in his own ‘Oneness’ from truly taking root. Logic implies that all things are known and must follow certain parameters and patterns, yet nature is anything but logical. In this context, "there is no spoon" is meant as a means for Neo to let go of his logical presumptions of what constitutes reality. As the boy says, “...you’ll see that it is not the spoon that bends, it is only yourself.” The limitations of Neo’s reality are self-imposed by the lense through which he’s been taught to see the world. By letting go of what he’s so sure ‘he knows’, he finally opens up to what’s possible."

Morpheus tells him “You have to let it all go Neo; fear, doubt, and disbelief.” 

the movie itself does give way to things external to the person - agent smith - but you do not need to take it literally. there is no external. the only agent smith that exists is your own self imposed destruction. 'breaking out of the matrix' is just breaking out of a falsely identified with reality and realising that you are above any human law, above everything for you are reality itself. be nonchalant to agent smith, he is POWERLESS for you have realised the truth. the truth that you can manipulate the so-called matrix. the truth that your realisation of your power is all that is needed.

it is hard to realise that everything you believed was real is illusory, it can be overwhelming to 'take the red pill' and realise the greatest truth that you ARE the creator and no human law applies to your divine nature. realising the truth does not take away from special moments or imagined memories, it liberates you from believing that this body is all that you are. it opens a new door of actual UNLIMITED possibilities to experience anything you want to experience, knowing that you are not victim to circumstance and you can easily experience something different. you are in control. there is NOTHING holding you back. you can fly right now if you want to. you can teleport to japan right now if you want to. there is no such thing as impossible, the only impossibility exists in mind which we know is illusory.

realise the spoon is fake and bend your awareness to live life out of misery, pain and destruction and direct your awareness to love, peace and fun.

[fantasyandshit]

I hate you

Type: One shot

Pairing:Eris x Night court reader

Based off of this request

Smut- MDNI

I can feel the heir of Autumns breath mixing with mine as we stand panting, his body leaning over mine as he has me shoved against a tree, his hands locking mine above my head.

———

*earlier*

“Yn!”

“Oh- yes Rhys?”

“I’m so sorry to spring this on you so last minute but is there any chance you could go around the autumn borders? We’ve been getting reports of possible disruption. Eris should already know that someone would be coming.” His face is pulled into a half frown of sorts, his eyebrows pinched and eyes filled with apology. He knew just how much I hated Eris.

“Sure. I can do that for you.” I knew things were stressful for everyone after the war and Rhysand was no exception, I could put up with the prince for a little bit if it meant making his load even a little bit lighter. The high lord visibly relaxes, his shoulders slumping and his face showing nothing but appreciation.

“Great, thank you so much, I will tell him you will be there tomorrow morning?”

“Yes, yes. Let me go get my things packed.” With a nod of my head, I turn to leave making my way up the stairs and to my room. I quickly slip from my leathers, pulling my hair down from its up-do and walk towards the bathroom. The bathtub is already nearly full as I wash my face and brush my hair. I sink into the warm water, letting it sooth my muscles as I relax, a long breathe leaving my lips.

After finishing in the bath, and changing, I start to pack, taking the time to mentally prepare my self for my visit to Autumn.

‘It will be ok Yn. It’s only for a day, then you can come back and relax and spend some time with your family.

———

As I move across the borders, I spot the fiery hair of the heir. “Eris.” His name comes out a near hiss, the word leaving a bad taste in my tongue.

His signature smirk spreads across his face. “Yn.” And how are you in this fine day.

“Worse now that I’ve had to see your face.”

“Oh you love my face.”

A scoff passes my lips, “Yeah, and humans can fly.”

“What was that darling?”

“One- don’t call me that. Two- I thought we were telling lies?”

“Nope, no lies here princess.”

“Ugh.” An exasperated sigh leaves me as I begin walking through the woods of Autumn, looking at all the colors in the trees.

“Hey! I wasn’t done with you princess.” Eris winnows in front of me, blocking my path.

“Move out of my way Eris.”

“Make me.” The smirk is back, his eyes darkening as he moves forward causing me to take a step back.

“I-I’m serious Eris. Leave me alone.” I back up again, and again, and again. The cat and mouse game goes in for a moment before my back inevitably hits a tree. I look around the empty forest, my breath picking up.

“Oh, I don’t think I want to do that Princess.” His voice is a whisper in my ear as his hands roam down my sides, heat pooling in my panties. “And,” a nip to my ear lobe, “I don’t think you want that either.”

“G-get a-away from me.” But the truth is, I don’t want that, I don’t want him to leave. I can feel his natural heat radiating from his body as his lips slowly come to my neck. Kissing slowly up the side, to my jaw, the corner of my lips. He pauses.

“Tell me you want this princess.”

“I-I want this Eris. I want you.” Fuck, what did I just say! What demon has crawled in me and made me say these things, my mind is in a frenzy as his lips finally meet mine but I can’t help but kiss back. Our mouths molding together. A small moan leaves me as his fingers dance at the hem of my pants.

‘Stop it! Stop this right now! You hate him! I hate him!’ A voice screams at the back of my mind but I can’t find the ability to voice it, to actually make him stop. I know he would, I knew the truth. Eris was respectful, if I told him to stop, he would. I know he would. But I just can’t tell him too.

Eris’ hands find my own, sliding up my arms, pulling them above my head and locking them there.

‘Come on! Tell him to stop!’

‘I can’t. I can’t, feels to good. I like this.’

An inner war rages in my head as he sucks a mark just above the collar of my shirt, one hand leaving there place holding mine to find the hem of my pants, ripping them and my panties with a growl. I gasp as he does this, earning a chuckle from the fox.

“Stop.” I finally find my voice, it’s shaky but there.

“Oh? You want me to stop princess, his hand continues to trail to my dripping core.

“Stop. I hate this. I hate you!”

Another chuckle passed his lips as his fingers finally meet my clit. “Oh? It doesn’t seem like it?” Before I have time to even think of a response, his fingers are delving into my heat. I’m embarrassed of the moan that leaves me, nearly a scream. “All this for me princess?” His fingers leave me, my whole clenching around nothing. I pant as he brings them in between our faces. Marveling at the sight of my juices coating his fingers. “Open.”

And for some fucked up reason.

I listen.

My mouth drops open, tongue sticking out as he places his fingers in, I suck them in, my tongue swirling across them, greedily taking everything I can.

“Now that’s enough. Don’t be greedy now princess.” It’s like he reads my fucking mind. I hate it. But at the same time. I love it. Love this. He takes a moment to quickly shed off his layers, I do the same, taking off my shirt and bra, seeing as my pants had already been stripped from me.

My mouth waters at the sight of his pulsing cock, a drop of precum falling from its tip. I’m flipped around, my bare breasts scraping across the bark of the tree as I feel him like up with my entrance, teasingly sliding through my folds as a whine of protest leaves me. He chuckles as he shoves in to the hilt with one strong thrust.

“Fuck!” He sets a strong pace, pulling out to the tip and pushing in till his pelvis meets mine. “Eris, eris. Ah fuck Eris.” His name leaves me like a chant as he continues his brutal pace, grunts and groans from him mixing with my moans and whimpers.

“You feel so good around my cock princess, so tight, sucking me in so good. Ugh you sound so beautiful to, chanting my name.” His pace gets more rapid as he pulls my hair, forcing my head up, eyes meeting mine.

“I’m close.” I can barely hear it myself, surprised when he responds.

“Me too princess, me too.” His thrusts get sloppy as I feel the spring tighten before snapping, white blurring my vision as hot waves of pleasure roll over me. “Good girl.” And with one final thrust, he cums, filling my dummy walls with his seed, a growl leaving him.

A whine leaves me as he pulls out, “Rhys is gonna kill me.” He chuckles at my words before pulling his clothes on, magicing my clothes back together and on my body. “Can we just like, say we looked around.”

“Oh princess, I made those fake reports. I just wanted to see you.”

“Oh? And what if Az or Cass had come. Would they be up against a tree, getting fucked by the price of Autumn?” I turn around, shirt falling over my head, “it’s ok, I support.” I smirk as he shakes his head.

“I knew he’d send you. Now you’d better get home before we get in trouble.” I nod, turning to leave before he stops me, his hand coming to my chin, pulling my face to look into his eyes. He leans forward, his lips meeting mine for another kiss, this one slow and tender, loving and soft.

———

As I finally arrive home, I walk to the dining room to find my family. All trying to hide laughs, Cassian failing miserably. “What? What is it?”

“You reek of Eris. Not to mention the uh.. marks of claim.” He snickers as Nesta slaps him, smiling as well.

“Well I think he smells lovely.” I can’t think of any other retort as I sit down, piling food onto my plate.

—————

Thank you anon for the request! This was very fun to write and I hope it meets your standards and hopes! Love y’all and thank you for alllll the requests I’m getting, I haven’t done it before so I didn’t realize it posted all the responses and now I can only link them. That will be different in the future I promise!

[exrellian]

Sorry if this sounds rude, but I've been thinking about your replaced au and noticed some things, so bear with me and my sor of rambling.

First of all, Diavolo always know if someone lies, so basically if MC were to go to him and talk about Amelia, he'll know Amelia's lying about attack. At the same time, he got the information from Lucifer, which (i guess) is sure MC attack Amelia, so basically he's also telling the truth.

Assuming Amelia can control/manipulate others (I'm talking about Satan's reaction. How against Amelia he was and than broke the pact) it may be hard to explain it to Diavolo, but still I think it would be possible for MC to convince Diavolo that he's innocent.

Second of all, shouldn't pacts be unbreakable? I may be wrong about canon here but I thought pacts are suppose to last forever. Or at least they should require both parties to break them. As I said, I may be wrong here regarding the canon, but still this one bit doesn't sit well with me.

Third thing, since Solomon's not in Devildom, looking at things logically, Amelia should occupy his room. I understand that MC is other human exchange student, but MC didn't live in Purgatory Hall because there were no more free rooms (or maybe once again I may remember canon incorrectly).

You don't have to answer this message if you don't want to. I just wanted to share my brainriot 😅

WOO!! I am legit so happy you brought up these points, it means someone has read my fic and thought this much about it, it is genuinely an honor! And don’t worry, you didn’t sound rude in the slightest bit! I’ll go though in order and adores your points! There are some points that may have a weak defense due to spoilers but I’ll try to address them to the best of my abilities!!

1: Yes, Diavolo can 100% tell when people are lying but there is some major manipulation going on that is even effective on him and Barbatos, this will be explored much deeper in later chapters!

2: This point I really can’t explain at all without spoilers, just know that the pacts can and have been severed. I don’t recall it saying anywhere that pacts couldn’t be broken but I could be wrong.

3: So, the reason Amelia was put with MC was purely because of “past mistakes” Diavolo believed putting both humans together would be most wise to help with adjustment to the Devildom. The two humans occupied the same room together because in cannon, MCs room is fairly large

I hope this cleared things up a little, more will be answered later in the story!!

[zurdurer]

Stranger ramblings because I am a broken man - this is literally just about the fact dbb and gpt sing each part of this lol

I wrote this half asleep so please excuse any over explaining or whatever, I'm copin w exam season and i needed enough context for it to make sense to whatever unfortunate member of my family i decided to throw it at

Drumbot Brian is cast away, killed by the people he wanted only to help. Called a witch for his abilities and mechanical prowess when he used his machines to revive a priest. His work clashed with the religion of where he had landed and was strictly a last resort to the townsfolk. After saving the priest from breaching the veil of death a mob was gathered, determined to put an end to this man who played God. They fired him into the cold of space using his own machinery.

Brian is benevolent, moral; he does only what he believes to be right. However, he is never allowed full control of his own situation. He was near completely stripped of his humanity by Dr Carmilla, his moral trajectory can be changed at the flip of a literal switch. He only wants to help, he only wants to love and be loved back. He knows that when people learn about that aspect of his mechanism and what he can and will do when the change is made there is a risk of them manipulating it - him - to their benefit.

This is why ‘Stranger’ is so utterly heartbreaking. Of course the story behind it is tragic:

A crane visits a man disguised as a woman and falls in love, they marry and live together happily. Over time though, the crane grows sick as it sells its feathers to support them both. One day everything changes, the man discovers the true nature of the crane. He says he cannot love her any further, that she has to leave, he cannot see through her deception. Heartbroken, it respects his wishes and leaves but as she goes it tells him “You are not worthy of loving a Crane.”

Now, in the song it is Brian and Tim singing the parts of Cranewife and husband; Brian playing the Cranewife. This is incredibly important to who he is as if you look at the folktale and compare it to Brian’s experience there are a great deal of similarities.

Brian wanted only to help the townsfolk with his gifts, the Cranewife only wanted to love and support the man he (it?) loved. Neither want to be alone, in fact: Brian makes a point to never sing or perform by himself, not singing at all during the retelling of his own tale. Both give up parts of themselves, to the severest degree, to help others and yet despite all of this they are rejected and cast off. Something changes. The truth about the Cranewife is discovered just as the extent of Brian’s abilities are and they are looked upon with nothing  but disdain and fear.

Similarly, in ‘The Ignominious Demise of Dr Pilchard’, Drumbot seems particularly upset that their kidnapper hadn’t believed what he told him and accused him of lying. This was likely also to be the case when in ‘The Hanged Man Rusts’ Arthur and Gawain didn’t listen to him. Drumbot is an honest man, he takes it rather strongly when people cannot place trust in him or his word for he knows he is not a liar. He knows when people think they have been lied to they feel threatened, when they feel threatened they often don’t hesitate to hurt him.

When the Cranewife is discovered, it is accused of “spinning falsehoods into gold,” but repeats the phrase, “I meant no deceit”. It didn’t mean to lie, he didn’t want to lie. He was living truly but concealing a secret out of fear for that rejection. Not a misplaced fear though as we learn from the line, “In your place a monster I do see”.

This story is an anecdote, of course, but it sounds almost personal to Brian. As though this is what he himself has lived before or after becoming a mechanism. Even if it is not his own, him singing it feels almost like he is healing from the trauma that haunts him. Afterall, this is one of the last things we hear from him before his death. His death being something I believe to be a sign that he could face himself, his past, and give himself the chance to return to the biting cold that should have taken him aeons before.

Not only is it important that Drumbot Brian sang the part of the Cranewife, but also that Gunpowder Tim sang the part of the husband. Tim’s mechanism is his eyes after they got burnt away by a blast strong enough to annihilate the moon. Before this, however, he had been blinded more metaphorically. After the death of his close friend Bertie during the war waged by the Moon Kaiser he fell into a deep bloodlusting rage where quick and mad he carved through the Kaiser’s men. He was eventually captured by the Kaiser which led to the loss of his eyes and the introduction to his new ‘immortal’ life as a mechanism.

From this point on, near every character Tim has played has had some sort of issue with foresight, actual vision or a combination of the two. In ‘Ulysses Dies at Dawn’ he plays Oedipus who is not only blind after gouging out his own eyes but also failed to recognise the identities of his mother and father along with the Olympian’s plans to drive him off world. In ‘High Noon Over Camelot’ he plays Gawain, a hot headed young man with a blind hatred for the Ghouls. In ‘The Bifrost Incident’ he plays Loki whose own mind is hidden from her. In the song ‘Alice’ he plays Major Hare who is likely rather short sighted as he fails to notice a doormouse sat in the teapot he is sharing with opposing Major Hatter.  In ‘Pieces’ he plays Osiris, changed and unreachable after being rebuilt by Isis. In ‘Twisted Threads’ he plays Arachne who cannot see the web Athena has caught her in. This trend persists in ‘Stranger’ where he plays the husband.

The man could not recognise the true nature of the Cranewife until it began to get weaker. When he found what he had thought he loved in a form he described as a “metal demon”, he was blinded by fear and betrayal. Unable to see the person he loved, he couldn’t listen to its begging for him to listen and understand.

Anyway they make me sick and I can't be normal about them :]

[ashintheairlikesnow]

🧤 Invasive/Uncomfortable exam for Rafael

CW: BBU, medical whump, medical setting, dubcon touching (nonsexual), discussions of dubcon/noncon, BBU, pet whump

-

"What seems to be the nature of the problem?" The doctor isn't asking him. No one ever asks Rafael questions - he's just a pet, after all, barely human.

A human-shaped sex toy. Like a vibrator that needs to be fed three times a day. He hums, a sound like a flat vibration, and then smiles, a little dreamily, at the internal joke.

Everyone ignores him.

"Someone went rough on him last night," Boscoe says with a shrug. His master's favorite and highest-level servant, paid a small fortune to handle these sorts of things in his absence, pretending that it wasn't him who went so rough, that he isn't the reason Rafael is here right now.

Rafael slept alone in the big bed last night, once Boscoe was done with him, and he barely slept at all. The ache still throbbing and spiking through his lower half has as much to do with that as the loneliness.

The clinician looks at Boscoe with eyebrows raised above her glasses, waits a beat, and then primpts, "Any more detail than that?"

"Nope." Boscoe shrugs again, gives a half-cocked grin. "Sorry, I'm just the household manager. Mr. and Mrs. Isbell went on vacation in Europe."

They had kissed him, each of them, and then left him lying in the bed, trying not to cry. Boscoe had come in an hour later, and told him to make noise, as much as he wanted.

So he did.

He never tells his masters about Boscoe hurting him when they're gone, because only with Boscoe is Rafael ever allowed to scream.

"Fine." The doctor looks Rafael over, without distaste or judgement but with absolutely no feeling at all. It's almost nice, to have someone who doesn't need to tell him he's pretty, or that he looks like a good slut, or any of the things the people around his masters seem to believe are compliments. "All right, you, lay down on your back for me and just scoot those hips right to the edge."

"Yes, ma'am," He responds, laying back on the padded exam table easily, even allowing his back to arch with graceful, perfectly feigned thoughtless seduction as he slips his heels into the leather stirrups and moves his arms slowly over his head, shifting until his ass nearly hangs off the edge.

"Good boy," The doctor says absently. Rafael shivers a little with pleasure at the praise, keeping his eyes closed and biting down on his lower lip. It's a trained reaction, one that's thoughtless by now, but it's never really instinct.

The nurse, an older woman, doesn't even look at him as she takes her place at the end of the table. The doctor grunts as she puts on blue latex gloves and smears clear lubricant on her fingers. "Hold steady, pet. This might cause some discomfort."

Rafael wants to ask her if there is anything you can do to him that doesn't.

He keeps his mouth shut, though.

Boscoe is still watching him with his arms crossed where he stands against the wall. Rafael chances only the slightest glance, looking away when he sees Boscoe's eyes trailing over the welts left along Rafael's ribs from the night before, the bite marks so deep they've bruised in the shape of teeth on one hip.

"His owner signed off on the use of his body?" The doctor asks as she slides the first finger inside. Rafael bites his lower lip harder to keep himself quiet, because it doesn't feel uncomfortable - it stings, torn skin protesting yet another invasion.

"Yes," Boscoe lies easily. Then, to add a kernel of truth, "They often allow their friends or business partners to use him."

Not their employees, though, but that's never stopped Boscoe. And Rafael knows how to keep secrets, knows how to trade his silence in front of the masters for the ability to weep when they're gone.

One finger becomes two, then three, the pain rising, and Rafael can't hold back the softest whimper no matter how hard he tries. "Ma'am-... Ma'am, I-"

"Sssshhh," The doctor shushes him harshly, and Rafael swallows back any thin, weak protest against her touch he might have been able to manage. "I know. I can tell this is hurting you."

She doesn't stop, though. She gets a small silver tool out, rubs it over in the same lubricant, and then forces that inside, too.

When Rafael cries out, the nurse slaps a hand over his mouth to muffle him, glaring down at him at his vision blurs with tears. His chest heaves, panting with the need for this to stop, to stop hurting, just to give him a minute to prepare himself for it.

But no one listens to him.

It's not like he's a person, anyway.

[dokk-fukuro]

so reader is already Lovecraft wife and says she loves all of him

Which leads to him turning into his true form and loving her

Fluff to smut

Not of This World [H.P. Lovecraft x f!Reader]

TW: SMUT, Minors DNI, afar reader, mention of using abilities, reader has ability too, mention of tentacles, she/her pronouns, mention of female genitals POV: You're the owner of an incredibly powerful ability that scares the inhabitants of your small town. And they decide to use you as a sacrificial bride for the Great Old One, because he haunts sailors on the water A/N: This is also the job I told you about, lol Word count: 3 821

The sacrificial bride. Sounds like a verdict, which isn't far from the truth. You, reconciled to your fate, are preparing for your “wedding” with something that will not leave a small town with outdated traditions alone. Surprisingly, they use quite modern technologies, but are forced to “please” small gods and creatures from outside, bringing them the gift of what they want.

You look at yourself in the mirror. You are not particularly happy with this outcome. You are only sixteen years old, and you are already forced to become a victim to please the Great Old One. And all why? And the answer lies in your shadows, with which you were “gifted” once, which now seem to you a curse. They're alive. They sometimes talk to you, tell you about what they have heard, what they have seen, what they have reached.

So you once found out that the head of a small town, a lustful old man, is ready to “marry” you to a monster from the depths of the sea, near which the city stands.

“We need him to leave the city alone. Even her parents don’t need this girl, and I’m sorry to give away others,” is what the shadows brought you. And since then, you have been preparing for what awaits you. The shadows that evening were ready to tear the headman to pieces for those words. It is true that your parents were cold towards you, loving only your younger sister and older brother.

"Smile, child, it's not every day that you get a chance to be a bride." It sounds from somewhere behind, and from this you want to grimace. Yes, not every day, but it would be better if there were never such moments in your life, and therefore the words spoken by an elderly woman who straightens her dress and tightens the corset at your waist seem like a mockery.

Your hair is only partly tied up. A pair of small strands are woven into braids that frame the face. Your eyes are on the people helping with the preparations like you're going to curse them. Oh, if you really could. You only seem paler when you look at yourself.

You hate them all, but slowly you accept the inevitable.

A whole procession accompanies you. A cloth is draped over your head so you can't see where you're being led. And only by the sound of water, which is only getting louder somewhere down there, you understand that this is a cliff. How you want to curse them all for eternal suffering. His father, mother, brother and sister, let alone the whole town. They tie you by the hands to a lonely tree standing on a cliff, but the canvas is not dragged off. The procession departs in silence, leaving you to wonder.

How much time you spend in this position you do not know, but your hands are numb, moving your fingers is already unpleasant. At some point, you laugh under your breath. To sacrifice you as a bride to some monster at the bottom of the sea. Ha! They just want to get rid of you because of your ability to control shadows. Even if there are gifted people like you among the residents, their abilities are clearly less dangerous to others.

A rustle is heard somewhere behind. Your whole body tenses up, you try to freeze so as not to show signs of life, it’s even scary to breathe. It could be anything… or anyone.

“How young you are, child." You hear, and you can’t understand what’s going on. It is so unusual for you now to hear human speech that it seems almost a hallucination, but no less terrible. A cool hand touches your chin under the canvas. Something or someone clicks their tongue. “White dress and… moving shadows. They decided to give you to me as a sacrificial bride, yes, Y/N?"

In response, silence. You are afraid to answer. Where does this something or someone know your name? They tear off the canvas from your head and raise your head, holding it by the chin. What appears before your eyes is not a monster, as you have been described.

This is a man about thirty years old with slick, black hair almost to the waist. His skin is pale, slightly greyish, his cheeks are slightly sunken. Dark gray eyes seem to look into the very soul. You are almost paralyzed with fear. It's not what you expected to see before your eyes. You swallow nervously.

"Are you scared, child?" the man grins, and your heart is already ready to go to the heels. You yourself do not understand whether you are scared or very much surprised by what you see. Your wrists are free from ropes. The man looks at his wrists and frowns a little. They're a little rubbed, but it'll pass. To your silent question, the brunette tilts his head slightly to one side.

“Since you are my sacrificial bride, consider me your future husband. Call me Lovecraft. I am that Great Old One you were given to."

And the last time you could be seen on the cliff.

Howard prefers to live away from people, spending most of his time relaxing underwater. You live in his house, learning to take complete control over your shadows, which learn to feel you too.

So the years go by. You are no longer a sixteen-year-old girl, you are a young woman just over twenty-five. Lovecraft does not change at all outwardly, as if he is not really a person, and you begin to catch yourself thinking about this more and more often. If earlier you would have reacted with skepticism to what you heard on the cliff on that fateful night, now you have no doubt that Howard Lovecraft is the Great Old One.

Late at night, when he didn't come back to the house after a while, you, scared to hell, rushed to find him.

You call out to him, look around everywhere, check all the woods, forests nearby, until your feet bring you to that very cliff. Lovecraft is standing there on the very edge, looking at the shining full moon, the reflection on the water of which gives the sea a mystical glow.

"Master Lovecraft!" Your eyes are filling with tears. He's been so kind to you all this time, teaching you new things. And all he asks in return for this is your loyalty to him, explaining that this is the fate of the bride. You have also had nights of love in which Howard is gentle to you, even very much.

The man slowly turns to you. It's so beautiful in the moonlight. His thoughtful gaze, in which one can see almost the hardships of the entire universe, is filled with increasing anger for the first time. But Howard is still reserved, even smiling a little at you when you run up to him. You throw yourself into his arms, nuzzle his solar plexus. The cool palm of the Great Old One rests on the top of your head. The wind ruffles his black hair.

"Y/N, there's something I'd like to discuss with you." The man is serious. The question he wants to raise is important. He looks at you in silence for a while before deciding to speak. "I want you to marry me. You will be my wife, and I will accept no other answer."

Your heart freezes. You look at your master Lovecraft, blushing deeply. He confronts you with the fact that you have no other choice but to become his wife. And for some reason, you don't mind at all. However, Lovecraft can also be understood. You sleep together, live in the same house, spend time together. A man is too attached to you to let you go to someone else. On top of everything else, you were named his sacrificial bride, which he also takes extremely seriously. However, with some amendments. You're not his first sacrificial bride, but you're the first one he hasn't killed.

"I agree." You smile, looking at Howard, as if mesmerized. He is so beautiful when the moonlight falls on him.

Lovecraft does not expect another answer, he knows that you will not answer in any other way. His cool hand strokes your cheek, goes under your chin and lifts your head. His dark gray eyes look into yours as he leans closer; your lips are separated by a miserable couple of centimeters. Howard kisses you gently, dryly, chaste, when you close your eyes, wanting to remember this moment.

"I will never let you leave me, Y/N," the man whispers, gently pulling away. You're so cute when your eyelashes flutter. You slowly open your eyes and gently smile at your new husband. You've become so attached to him over the past few years that you don't know what it's like to be alone. He treated you like a human being, not like a damned one.

Your warm hand touches his slightly sunken cheek, and Howard clings to the warmth like a lost cat who can't find his way home and asks for love from passers-by. He likes your touch, Lovecraft wants it to last as long as possible.

"I give you my word that I will never leave you alone…" You hesitate a little before continuing with a slight tremor in your voice and a blush on your cheeks: "my dear Lovecraft."

A smile suits him very well. It's a rare emotion you've ever seen. Usually Howard is always calm to the point of trembling, which is scary. At first, you were very afraid of this, because you didn't know what to expect from such a calm person. But now you're ready for anything, it's in your eyes, and Howard likes it.

He holds you in his arms, slowly covers your face with kisses. And this is the Great Old One, the very being before whom they shudder, whose appearance they are afraid of, because this does not bode well. You know him quite differently.

You are standing on the cliff where your fateful meeting took place a few years ago, looking at a small town in the distance. You're restless. Something has to happen. But it's not worrying about the worst. This feeling is more like waiting for something.

A huge wave is moving towards the city. No one will be left alive. You don't doubt it at all, but you don't care. The whole town agreed that it was you who should be left as a victim to Lovecraft, which means that no one deserves a chance to survive. Those houses that are closest to the shore are demolished first. The part of you that still retains at least some amount of compassion for those who live in the city wants to stop the man. However, his look alone makes it clear: he will not forgive the city that gave an innocent child as a sacrifice so that the Great Old One would leave everyone alone and not interfere with the sailors.

"This is my wedding gift to you, my love. They sacrificed you to save their own lives, and now they will lose them." People are fleeing from their homes in panic. There are screams, crying pleas for an end to this madness.

An ominous silence reigns. Neither voices nor cries of pets are heard anymore. I can't hear anything else. The sea is calm again, as if nothing had happened. You are looking at all the horror that the elements have created literally before your eyes. It was as if the city really did not exist. Those houses that remained intact are now abandoned. You have nothing to do with the ghostly place anymore. And you, surprisingly, feel a sense of relief. You are free and free to go wherever you want as long as Howard is with you.

Picking you up in his arms, Lovecraft walks with you along the path away from the cliff. The path you keep is back to the house where you live. Already in the house on a big bed, a man looks at you, admires you, as he has always done for several years. And if before, until you turn twenty, he did not dare to touch you in any other way than in a fatherly way, now nothing prevents you from loving each other as husband and wife.

"We need to set some rules in our lives," Lovecraft gently kisses you on the cheek. He's determined in what he's going to say. "From now on, I will be absolutely faithful to you, listen to your words, I will be your support in everything, but I expect the same from you."

You listen to him carefully, not daring to interrupt while the man takes off your clothes. This is your first time as husband and wife, so out of nowhere there is a slight shyness and awkwardness.

"I give my word that I will be faithful, I will listen to your opinion and I will support you in everything. You mean too much to me in this life for me to betray you," you pause before saying what is bursting out. "And it's not that those people gave me to you as a sacrificial bride. I won't betray you because I don't want to."

You touch his cool cheek with your hand, look into his eyes deeply, choosing the words you want to say in response to the question about your feelings for Howard. Initially, you had a completely different spectrum for him. When you first met Lovecraft, as his sacrificial bride, you were a little afraid of him, completely not knowing what to expect from him. And it was only after living with him for a long time that you began to understand that you loved him for his way of thinking, for his lack of emotion, for his manner of speech, even though it was strange, for calmness, education, awareness and responsibility.

Your shadows never liked noisy people, they were afraid of them. Next to Lovecraft, you found what you wanted. Home, love and a sense of security.

"I also find your ability quite charming. My shadows don't stand anywhere near." You nod, looking at how Howard undresses in front of you. A snow-white shirt fits neatly on the back of a chair nearby. A man's trousers remain on when he starts stroking and caressing your body, touching you as if in a gesture of acquaintance.

You pull him to you for a kiss, feeling a little cool and slippery tentacles begin to wrap around your body. One grabs gently by the wrists and presses them to the bed, the other two stroke the hips, sometimes wrapping around them. Howard drops kisses on your neck while his tentacles rush to touch your body wherever they can. His eyes are more like two Abysses than something human, but that doesn't scare you.

You gasp loudly every time the suckers on the tentacles leave reddish traces in the form of circles, some of them are very bright; they will definitely linger on your body for a couple of days.

"What do you feel now?" The man's voice is threefold, gives off a slight echo, and in principle it already sounds creepy, but he does not see fear in your eyes under it. Lovecraft sees genuine adoration in his direction, and this surprises him a little. "Do I disgust you?"

"No, not at all." You shake your head, feeling slightly embarrassed. You're pouting a little, subtly hinting that the man is still wearing his trousers. "Your tentacles. They are cool, a little slippery, move as if they have their own will and consciousness. But… I like it. I love you, Howard, and I will love you no matter what. After all, I am also not deprived of a small feature."

You giggle softly and let your shadows do whatever they want. They get to Lovecraft's trousers without any delay, take the form of women's palms and hurry to rid him first of the belt, and then of the unnecessary detail of clothing. The man only chuckles softly at this. His new wife is so sweet and charming when she tries to help him.

Howard again clings to your lips with his, kisses deeply, with tenderness and desire, listening to the muffled moans. This is the first time he uses his tentacles, but you are clearly not afraid of them, and he is incredibly happy about it. You accept him as he is. This is more than enough for him to experience a strange feeling inside, which bubbles like champagne, filling him with strange energy and the desire to joke and laugh stupidly. Is this… happiness?..

You both dissolve in love for each other, exchanging mutual caresses and kisses. You touch Lovecraft with your shadows, feeling everything they feel, even if it's not the same as your own hands. A man touches your chest with his cool hand, which causes a shiver down your spine. You let out a soft moan when Howard's lips descend first on one nipple, then on the second, paying attention to the previous one with a small tentacle.

You squirm under the strong but gentle grip of the tentacles of the Great Old One, breathing heavily, but asking only for one thing: that Lovecraft does not stop. The man looks furtively at the shadows and grins:

"Your shadows look agitated. Is it because of me or understanding what will happen next?"

"Both," you honestly admit, looking at your new husband with completely black eyes. This is the peculiarity of using the ability to control your own shadows. That's another reason they called you a monster.

While the shadows caress Lovecraft, he spreads your legs with his tentacles. They move smoothly in a spiral up and down, paying special attention to the inside. Your body is trembling with impatience and unusual sensations. They may well become your habit. And you understand why the body reacts like that.

Touching something unknown, unseen before. The same effect is produced by touching your shadows to someone. A person can lose his mind from the pleasure that the touch of shadows brings, or from fear. Your moans caress Howard's ears as he continues to deftly and effortlessly manipulate his tentacles, getting a little lost in the sensations from the touch of shadows. This is the first time he feels them, and it gives him goosebumps. Howard exhales convulsively through clenched teeth.

The tentacle that caresses your left thigh stretches out a little, and its tip touches your crotch. You arch in the back, being exposed to the kisses of the Great Old One, which only enhances the feeling of the tentacle touching the sensitive bundle of nerves. The tentacle moves along with small amplitudes up and down, then large, touching the folds and teasing the entrance to the womb. You moan uncontrollably, almost going crazy from what you feel, and kisses with glimpses of light bites add fuel to the fire.

Howard stretches his neck to be able to cover your body with kisses, suppressing his moans when he feels more tangible touches of shadows on his body. They stroke his shoulders, neck, chest, torso and climb lower.

"You are gorgeous, my love," the man whispers close to your skin, breathing heavily. And yet he breaks into a low, quiet moan when he feels the shadows squeezing his bulging penis. Lovecraft's heart is pounding in his chest like mad. The man is filled with passion and love for you under him.

He tentatively penetrates the tip of another tentacle inside, while he continues to attack the clitoris with the tip of another, making you almost scream. Your body is straining, then relaxing. You're begging Lovecraft to take you, whimpering with desire and lust. Leaving a short kiss on your eyebrow, the man kisses you on the lips when the tentacle penetrates inside in one smooth, slow motion.

The tentacle twitches in your pussy, touches all the most sensitive areas inside while it moves. Howard pulls away from your lips, listening to loud moans fill the room. He moans uncontrollably himself, feeling through the tentacle how tight it is inside you, how wet and warm it is.

And the thrill is added by your shadows, over which you lose control. They themselves move through his body and tentacles as they want. The room is filled with vulgar squelching, your moans and guttural male growling when the Great Old One increases the speed of the tentacle movement inside you.

You scream his name in outright ecstasy, almost losing all connection with reality. You're stuffy, hot. You feel good.

"I love you, Y/N. I will love you until the end of time and even after," Howard growls, looming over you. He wants to remember this moment of love that you share as spouses. How beautiful is his sacrificial bride, now his wife. You moan, whimper and whine from the sensations, fidgeting and asking not to stop. You are close to the climax, and when you reach it, the body only becomes more sensitive. All the caresses of the tentacles on your body are felt more clearly, the pussy is squeezed around the tentacle inside. The bundle of nerves is swollen and now susceptible to even a fleeting touch, but Howard continues to move the tentacle inside you, increasing the pace, almost going crazy from the intoxicating touches of your shadows, whose caresses are becoming more insistent.

After the second climax, your mind is clouded. All you can say is your husband's name. Your moans are now screams of pleasure. The third orgasm is coming, however, Lovecraft is also very close. You feel it with your shadows.

"Come on, love, let's do it together," his speech falters when Howard covers your body with kisses again, licking salty sweat. After the deafening groan of the two, silence reigns, which seems as uncomfortable as possible. Your breath is whistling, you're trying to catch your breath when the tentacle leaves your body. My vision is blurry and a little double, but my body feels so light, like someone else's. You smile wearily at your spouse when he gently kisses you on the cheek.

There are no more tentacles; there are only his big palms with long, thin fingers that take your weakened body and carry it to the cool bathroom. There, Howard helps stop the blood flowing from your nose — a side effect of controlling your shadows, which you are used to.

"I love you, Howard," you wheeze and smile wearily. Lovecraft gently takes your palm in his, brings it to his lips and kisses each finger.

"You're so beautiful now, Y/N. My Y/N," the man kisses your palm, calming all your feelings.

Thank you, my Queen. Thank you for your love.

[bestworstcase]

mankind, salem says, is strong, wise, resourceful, passionate, and ingenious. (she notes “resourceful” twice.) there will be no victory in strength, and notably she excludes “strength” when she lists the traits that allowed humanity to prevail and thrive despite the grimm; ergo wisdom, resourcefulness, passion, and ingenuity are the four virtues she actually values.

wisdom—experiential knowledge and soundness of judgment—choice.

resourcefulness—the ability to analyze a problem and apply what you have intelligently to resolve it—knowledge.

passion—intense emotion and, via christianity, connotatively profound suffering and death leading to resurrection—destruction.

ingenuity—inventiveness and originality, imagination—creation.

these are the four divine qualities she’s talking about, creation and destruction, knowledge and choice, but rather than recite them by rote as ozma does, salem defines what they mean to her, and in doing so she reveals that she values knowledge above all, because she sees choice and destruction and creation as things arising from different forms of knowledge. when she says ‘there will be no victory in strength’ what she means is ‘victory lies in knowing.’

[in ‘the shallow sea’, the god of animals is characterized as sagacious, perspicacious, and veracious—wise, insightful, honest—and fascinated by human adaptability or, you might call it, resourcefulness. do you hear the way this rhymes?]

you have traveled here today in search of knowledge, says ozpin, to hone your craft and acquire new skills. but all i see is wasted energy in need of purpose, direction. you assume knowledge will free you of this, but your time at this school will prove that knowledge can only carry you so far. it is up to you to take the first step.

salem believes that knowledge is everything; that it underlies creation and destruction and choice, that it is essential, that without it humanity would have never risen from the ashes the brothers left behind and could never have survived in this unforgiving and unforgiven world.

ozpin states in no uncertain terms that the pursuit of knowledge is a waste of energy. he believes—or at least he would like his students to believe—that knowledge is impotent, that what matters is to be given direction and guided by unerring purpose. what he values is faith, as he tells coco in ‘after the fall:’

Make no mistake, there is a higher power guiding our actions. Call it Fate. Call it Destiny. Call it the gods. Or maybe it’s simply the randomness of existence. Whatever it is, I have to trust that we are here for a reason.

from the very beginning, in plain sight, this story has been about the ideological conflict between one who champions the truth and one who stands for blind faith. the undoing of ozpin’s cause is his decision to lay his hopes on the shoulders of a more honest soul.

the grimm are manifestations of anonymity, pyrrha says. that is why they lack souls, why they are the darkness and we are the light; but it’s about knowing, understanding both dark and light (and everybody has some of both). yet it is the grimm-witch who values knowledge and the huntsman who rejects it.

while ozpin tells ruby that she has to be perfect all the time lest everyone turn against her, port tells weiss that her bad attitude reflects poorly on her and she ought to spend less time worrying about not getting what she felt entitled to and instead focus on honing her skills and becoming the best person she can be. both ruby and weiss take the advice they’re given utterly to heart, winding it into the very core of their selves; ruby drowns, and weiss blossoms.

the subtext has a bullhorn.

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

[dontmeantobepoliticalbut]

By Chauncey Devega

As I have previously explored in a series of conversations with cult and mind control expert Steven Hassan, Donald Trump meets most if not all the characteristics of a cult leader. Trump holds extreme power over his followers, who subsume their own identities and will to him. He persuades them to reject their own perceptions of reality and to trust only him and his approved messengers. To a large degree, they have lost the ability to engage in what psychologists describe as "reality testing."

Trump's mug shot, taken at the Fulton County jail in Atlanta last Thursday, is as an image of murderous rage and a bottomless lust for revenge. Trump has already used it to raise yet more campaign cash. In all probability, Trump's upcoming criminal trials will only make him more popular and powerful among his core followers, not less.

Like other cult movements, the MAGA phenomenon is rooted in manipulation and psychological abuse. Trump effectively exploits the death anxieties and other existential fears of his followers, presenting himself as their only protector and savior. The MAGA cult is authoritarian, preying on lonely, socially isolated and otherwise vulnerable people and providing them with a sense of order, meaning, community and destiny.

A poll conducted from Aug. 16 to 18 by CBS News/YouGov demonstrates just how firm Trump's power over his followers continues to be. A large majority of Republican voters view Trump as "honest and trustworthy," which would be hilarious if it were not deeply alarming. Furthermore, "Trump's voters hold him as a source of true information, even more so than other sources, including conservative media figures, religious leaders, and even their own friends and family." When asked who they believe tells them the truth, 71% of Trump voters picked him, more than picked friends and family members (63%), right-wing media commentators (56%) and religious leaders (only 42%).

Beyond the numbers, mental health expert Dr. Justin Frank, author of the bestseller "Trump on the Couch," perceives a tragic and pathetic human dimension to the CBS News poll, as he told me by email:

“What this poll doesn't measure or explain is the cause and effect of the profound loyalty of Trump's core supporters. It's this factor that continues to baffle pundits and call into question everything we thought we knew about American politics and the future of democracy. How did these startling figures come to be?

Trump taps into specific needs certain people have to love and to feel loved in return. People who feel they have been lied to — whether as children or adults — yearn for a person or group to trust, in which to place unwavering faith. While I think this type of blind loyalty to Trump is a delusion, it's also a common human experience. In some people it overwhelms an otherwise healthy emotional state in which most of us simultaneously understand that authority figures can be both admirable and disappointing. Televangelists are able to captivate and exploit their vulnerable audiences for this reason. It's also why cash (from many who can ill afford it) pours into Trump's coffers each time he's indicted for a new crime.

As I wrote in 'Trump on the Couch,' Donald Trump himself felt lied to by his parents, which binds him and his fan base even closer. Trump provides the kind of love they crave because he instinctively meets those unconscious needs, in part because he shares them unconsciously himself.”

Frank further suggests that Trump "invites maternal love" from many of his followers, who "are touched at a deep level by their awareness of his neediness, which endears them to him":

“In his rallies he repeats 'believe me' the way a child does when telling a lie or feeling unloved. He is quick to ... paint himself as a maligned victim. He becomes someone they want to protect from assault ... [by] sharing his sense of betrayal with his audience and psychologically merging with their own histories of having been disappointed. What evolves is an inability to differentiate oneself from the idolized other that results in an emotional bond that is deep and thrilling to share. To those outside the mystical Trump romance, this unconditional love makes no sense. We call that kind of love a cult. How can such an overt liar and accused criminal can be so admired?”

What we don't remember when we see such a cult in operation, Frank says, is that all children seek to protect "the image of their loved parents from the inevitable disbeliefs and hurts that even the best parents create":

“They do this by splitting their early experiences into good and bad, black and white. What evolves is a yearning for comfort, aided by binary thinking, from a figure who is only good, despite any evidence to the contrary.

So, here we are as a nation, confused and divided in the darkness of our deepest fears and needs. Trump offers his devoted flock a shared sense of purpose and meaning. They've been groomed to look outside for someone to safeguard their best interests and provide shared faith and support. I think it may not be possible for those diehard Trump adherents to discover that this a dangerous illusion.”

I also asked Jen Senko, director of the documentary "The Brainwashing of My Dad," about what insights she could share on the findings of the CBS News poll regarding Trump's hold over his followers. She said she found it "stupid, and maddening, that many on television 'news' seem shocked" by the poll's findings:

“Have they been living under a rock? More likely they've been living in denial because it's a lot easier than accepting the truth. ... Though many of us understand this now, too little emphasis has been put on how millions of Americans lost their minds and became right-wing zombies. It's the media, stupid! ... As someone who saw the writing on the wall decades ago and made a documentary about it in 2016, it's particularly frustrating. Too many people laughed at Rush Limbaugh. Too many people thought Fox News was a legitimate 'conservative' alternative to the 'liberal media.' Too many people didn't question the barrage of email propaganda (often put out by think tanks and disguised as homespun bits of wisdom) emphasizing over and over: Democrats bad, Democrats evil. Democrats not real Americans. Republicans are all that is good and holy.

Limbaugh was allowed to get on the Armed Forces Network. Fox News is still on it, and became the go-to news station for bus stations, airports, restaurants, bars, doctors' offices. When humans immerse themselves in false information that gets repeated, it stands to reason that millions of them become "cultified" right-wing zombies. What can be done about it, I leave to the experts. When will America acknowledge that we are in an information war? That's what worries me every day.”

Former right-wing pundit Rich Logis was immersed in TrumpWorld and the MAGA movement for years, but managed to escape. He said it was an "irrefutable fact" that MAGA had a cultlike ethos:

“I know this because I was once quite deep in the MAGA rabbit hole. Had Trump won in 2020, I probably would have gone deeper into it, with the odds of escaping close to zero.

There are two prevailing ties that bind the MAGA cult. The first is that Trump is an omniscient, omnipotent, martyred savior of America; some believe him to be sent by God. (Note that Ron DeSantis poached this heresy last year, in his re-election campaign.) Martyrdom is the final stage of cult leadership, and to those in a cult, it is the outside world who are deceived. Those in this first category are willing to see through the cult to its fiery end. The second is among those who are ... politically traumatized by their hyper-partisan, paralytic, paranoid worldview that Democrats, socialists, communists and Marxists have long conspired to tyrannically infringe upon their rights and freedoms. I knew some who fell into one, or both, categories.”

Logis suggests that Trump's voters should not be dehumanized "and had some valid motivations for supporting Trump, even though he exploited those concerns and fears":

“We must, as a nation, build a broad consensus that electing Trump was one of the most egregious mistakes in our history. Admitting when we're wrong is an unnatural act, but it is possible — and liberating. When I look back at my MAGA time, I remain stunned at the level of political trauma I put upon myself; my hope is that others will begin to recognize their own trauma, which has been, to some extent, self-inflicted.”

The only real hope for awakening or deprogramming MAGA cult members, Logis said, will come from "resounding losses of MAGA candidates next year, up and down the ballot. Though such losses will probably not 'save' most MAGA voters, it will, likely, save some — and 'some' equals millions of Americans."

Former Republican congressman Joe Walsh, now a leading never-Trumper conservative and democracy advocate, described the CBS News polls findings as "the least surprising thing ever." I conclude here with his words of warning:

“Three and a half years ago, while campaigning in Des Moines against Trump, I asked 40 people in line to enter a Trump rally if Donald Trump had ever told a lie. All 40 Trump supporters said no, Donald Trump had never told a lie. I knew then and there that my primary challenge against Trump was hopeless, but I also knew then and there that my soon-to-be-former political party was hopelessly gone too. I knew then and there what I'd sensed for the past six years: The Republican Party is a cult, an authoritarian-embracing, truth-denying cult. So what do we do about it? Well, we all come together in 2024 to defeat this anti-democracy cult. Again. That's job No. 1. But my other job is to continue to try to rescue members of the Trump cult. That's not a job for everyone, but as someone who helped create the cult and then escaped from the cult, it's my job. It's my penance.”

[fedyaplushie]

an analysis of the fyodor breakdown scene—the truth, an act, or something else entirely?

warning: !!minor spoilers for the brothers karamazov!!

To believe Fyodor is an honest person is the way of the fool, but to mistrust every word he says and view them as lies will not put you in a better position, either.

By dismissing every dialogue of his, you are still, in a way, putting trust in him. Putting trust in the fact that he is a liar. And thus, you may miss out on important, vital information.

He could be hiding some specks of truth in his words, in his actions, and you will never know, because you already marked him as a liar. Yet he is most definitely not a truthful person, either.

So, it is hard to know... when is he lying? When is he telling the truth? When is he leading us to believe that a truth he told is actually a lie?

With Fyodor, it is very difficult to tell, and one of the moments that proves this the most, is the infamous Fyodor breakdown scene from Chapter 108.

Many people have already discussed the Fyodor breakdown scene which has led the fandom to two major conclusions: either he is genuinely being plagued by a second personality (be it via possession or otherwise), or the entire scene was an act, as Fyodor himself claimed.

I myself have thought about this scene many times, and even wrote up my own thread, in which I discussed the possibility of Fyodor suffering from a real mental breakdown after seeing the note, and then quickly coming up with a bullshit lie of having a second personality to throw Sigma off-guard and claim the upper hand, which he was in need of after showing such a vulnerable side to one of his enemies.

As of right now, I have not yet discarded that possibility, for I want to remain open-minded, no matter what curveballs Asagiri may throw at us. However, I wanted to consider other options, too. We always talk about whether Fyodor was acting or not, but what if there's more to it?

Let's break down the scene:

Sigma shows Fyodor, while holding him at gunpoint, the note he found on the ground of the Meursault hallways, the one which has the Russian translation for "help me" written on it.

Fyodor inspects the note before suddenly scooting back and screaming, leaving Sigma confused. He keeps muttering "help me" to himself, continues screaming, until he goes silent, waits a few short seconds, quickly shoots up and asks Sigma, "What year is it?"

The inclusion of that question has definitely rung alarm bells after recent chapters have revealed that Fyodor may or may not be much older than any other mortal human being—it is at least fair to assume that he was somehow alive centuries ago, if his memories are to be believed.

However, I'm much more interested in what happens next...

He speaks of a demon. The demon that is his ability, the ability that took over him due to his own weakness. He switches from using "him," to refer to the demon, to "I," implying that the demon is a part of himself.

Some have taken this to mean that he is possessed in one way or another (especially with the most recent chapters), but I would like to offer up a different interpretation.

Let's assume the entire scenario was genuine... I am not able to answer who may have written the note or why a Russian "help me" would be enough to trigger Fyodor, but let's assume it did, and his breakdown was real.

My thought was, what if this entire spiel with Sigma came as a result of his own mind?

He has allegedly lived for a long time, seeing himself as a servant of God in his quest to bring humanity to the promised land. Living so long, following such a goal so strictly, would have a toll on one's mind, no? We don't know what Fyodor was like before his ability and/or his immortality manifested, so who's to say that serving such an abstract goal for such a long time wouldn't cause one to have a distorted sense of self?

Moments ago, he was screaming and curled up on the floor. It wouldn't be unlikely that such a moment of mental vulnerability would cause his more distorted sense of self to show itself. Especially when one considers that he asked Sigma what year it was the moment he calmed down, he was clearly quite confused over his surroundings.

So, my conclusion was, that the one he calls a "demon" could simply be referring to the parts of himself that his inner self, deeply buried within, despises, or, maybe more accurately, fears the most. Someone whom he can mentally shift the blame onto, speaking of the demon and his ability as if they were one and the same. If the manifestation of his ability (which many believe is what is causing him to be potentially immortal) was what originally caused him to think that he must have been chosen to fulfill some grand quest, then that makes it all the more likely.

In short, with this interpretation, I do not believe he is possessed. I don't think he has a second personality, either. Both the demon/ability and Fyodor himself are parts of Fyodor, with this scene giving insight into what he truly thinks of himself—a feeble being who was easily overcome by his weakness, and the temptation of his ability and viewing himself as a servant of God.

And then there's the part with the Sword Kladenets (if we're to assume that he was telling the truth about their holiness and that the part about it being a simple guard's knife was a lie), where he asks Sigma to kill him, which is a whole other aspect to consider, if my interpretation is correct...

The one thing that throws me off is how quickly Fyodor came back from all of this, but I honestly wouldn't be surprised if he could easily overcome such vulnerable states and act as if it was nothing. We're talking about Fyodor, after all.

Now, I've held this interpretation for quite a few months now, yet I waited until now to bring it up. Why? Simply because my interpretation had no basis. There was, as far as I was aware, nothing to back my thoughts up, and I didn't want to talk about something I myself barely believed in. This interpretation was solely an idea, maybe a gut feeling, but it was never solid in any way.

Until very recently, when a friend of mine texted me to talk about a scene in The Brothers Karamazov... the scene where Ivan Karamazov speaks with the devil. And the scene which Asagiri himself has stated served as an inspiration for Fyodor's character.

Yet that scene is not Ivan's first encounter with the 'devil.' He strongly implies throughout the book that he has had multiple encounters with "him," yet it is not until that very scene—the scene Asagiri which was referring to—until we, as readers, are able to experience it ourselves, through his—Ivan's—lens.

In this scene, Ivan experiences a hallucination as a result of his illness (delirium tremens)... a hallucination where the devil is speaking with him.

The "devil"—whom Ivan acknowledges as an embodiment of his own "thoughts and emotions, though only those that are most loathsome and stupid."

Sound familiar?

Well, I could go on and on about the "Ivan speaks with the Devil" scene and how well it fits into my interpretation of Fyodor's breakdown scene, but this analysis is already quite long, so I may save that for another day...

But I believe I have reached my point—that my interpretation, which I developed solely through gut feeling and creativity, sounds eerily similar to what Ivan experiences, especially in the scene we are privy to... the scene which, once again, has been confirmed by Asagiri to have served as an inspiration for Fyodor's character.

Yet, despite this, I am not entirely convinced, though definitely more than I was before.

While my interpretation may be correct, it's also possible that Asagiri is pulling an UNO Reverse Card and that, while the BSD scene truly could be inspired by the TBK scene, Fyodor was only using the mention of a demon as a lie to throw Sigma off, while in Ivan's case, it was 'genuine.' It is also entirely possible that Fyodor did have a talk with the devil—a.k.a. the part of himself he loathes the most—at some point in the past, and used that experience to make his lie more convincing. Who knows, maybe I'm looking into this way too much and those two scenes have no relation to each other, whatsoever!

"People are quick to believe they are thinking of their own free will. [...] we trust that everything we discover is valuable. We're loath to believe that our thoughts are being controlled."

And thus, we start looking for meaning in panels and dialogue that are either red herrings or don't even have any meaning at all... I am wary of that. Which is why I have elected to stay open-minded, instead of believing in only "one true theory."

But I still want to have some faith in my interpretation and that is why I am sharing it with you. Even if I end up being wrong, I am happy to be able to share my thoughts!

(Forgive me, if I am not the first one to share this idea. Due to spoiler warnings, I have avoided any Fyodor analysis posts, that contain TBK in any way, therefore, I am unaware of the content of said posts.)

Thank you so much for reading this far! I appreciate it!

Shout-out to @/xKolyaMxxx (Twitter) for giving me the motivation to write this analysis by sharing and discussing a similar idea with me!

Huge thanks to @creantzy for making me aware of the content of the TBK scene, for sharing photos of the English translation of the book, and, most of all, for discussing this topic with me, and helping me out a lot!

[drabblingman]

Mephistopheles shut their diary in one hand with a "snap", and rushed off as fast as he could. His steps mixed with the rapid clacking of his cane, and his old injury screamed at him, but that didn't matter right now.

He had to find them. To set the record straight.

But what exactly was the truth? Wasn't his whole reason for snooping because he disliked them? Hadn't he been trying to unearth dirt on them? To write a scathing piece in the R.A.D. Times on? To sully their reputation, and prove they weren't as honest as they appeared to be?

Stupid.

They always told him the truth. He had tried time and again to catch them in a lie, but he never could. They never lied. Even when they knew what they said could be misconstrued, or twisted against them, they always spoke the truth. Their truth.

Why would their diary be any different?

He was so stupid.

It was one of the things he liked about them. But if he disliked them, why would he like something, anything about them?

Why would it hurt that they thought he hated them?

He liked a lot of things about them. Their honesty. Their quick, yet cutting, wit. Their ability to get in and out of the most frustrating and precarious of situations, always with a new story to tell. Their humor. Their laugh.

He liked them, damnit, so why did they think he hated them? Why did he think he hated them?

He gritted his teeth, and clutched their diary tighter in his free hand.

God above and Demon Lord below, he was so stupid.

He turned a corner, and found them exactly where he knew they would be. He had, after all, had to plan for the optimal time to go looking through their most personal of belongings, and it'd be a rookie mistake to not know where your target was at the time of infiltration.

The human exchange student was alone, after class, at a table outside of the school. They were packing up after working on their homework for exactly 58 minutes, so they could make the late bus that left exactly an hour after school. Something he had planned meticulously for.

Too bad all of that planning had gone out the window. (Which was, ironically, how he had planned to make his daring escape.)

He approached them as they were placing their books in their bag, not yet noticing him.

"How dare you write such accusations!" is probably not the best thing to shout at someone while holding their diary.

Which is why Mephistopheles preferred the written word. Preferably, articles. Then, he could go back and forth and rewrite anything that came out too harshly or just plain wrong. Here? Oh no. He couldn't backspace a single letter from what he said here.

They looked up, bewildered.

And then he saw it. The dawning realization that in his left hand he held their diary, replaced quickly by the shock and betrayal that he had alluded to having read it.

It was like they had frozen in front of him, yet he was the one who felt cold from his own thoughtless actions.

Had he mentioned how stupid he was? Because he really was quite stupid.

"Why do you have that?" They asked him, their voice low and serious.

"I-! Well-!" He spluttered, unable to think of a perfectly valid excuse for breaking in to their house, their room, and their locked and magically-enchanted diary.

"You know me! I'm an investigator! And I must investigate you!"

They stared at him, then at their diary, still clutched firmly in his hand.

"Give it back."

Mephistopheles blinked at their outstretched hand, processing, for a moment too long, what they had requested of him.

They made a grabbing motion.

"Oh-" he finally realized, quickly dropping their diary back into their palm.

They packed it in their bag with the rest of their books, silently, as Mephistopheles watched.

"We- we really must talk!" He managed at last, stumbling on his words.

Their head snapped up, and the glare they threw his way he would've sworn gave him physical damage. Even Lucifer, king of the death glare, would have quaked in his stupid fancy shoes.

"What's. There. To. Talk. About?" They asked him, enunciating each word carefully.

"About what you wrote-"

"-You mean my private thoughts?" They cut him off. "You mean my private thoughts that you violated? That you read without my permission? That I wrote so I wouldn't have them running around my head? So that I wouldn't speak them out loud? Those?"

He winced.

This was not going well.

And he was probably digging his own grave.

Which he assumed they would then dance on.

And then they'd probably raise him from the dead, just to kill him and dance on it again.

But still...

He had to know.

No matter what, he had to know.

"...Do you really think I hate you...?"

They stared at him, as if he was completely stupid. (A sentiment he was really truly beginning to agree with.)

"Why would I lie to my diary? Of course I do. What other proof do I need after this stunt you just pulled?"

Ouch. That one stung a little.

Ok, a lot.

"Then, what about the other things you wrote about me?"

They held his gaze for a moment, before looking down at the table, quiet.

"...What does it matter?" They asked bitterly, sadness tinging the edges of their words as they avoided eye contact with him.

He approached the table from the other side, placing his white-gloved hands on it's filthy surface, leaning forward to try to catch their gaze.

"It matters a lot." He said gently, reaching out cautiously to their face to comfort then, or at the very least get them to look up at him once again.

"At least, to me it does." He withdrew, suddenly anxious his touch was unwelcome. "Because I don't hate you. In fact, I've come to enjoy your company."

The human's face shot up once more, their eyes wide, searching his own meticulously for any trace of sarcasm or untruthfulness.

"What?"

He felt his heart thud in his chest when their eyes locked with his. He hadn't even meant to say that last part, it had just come out of his mouth without thought, but now, he was forced to address it. He was forced to confront his feelings about them. Or, rather, his feelings for them.

Why hadn't he noticed it before? Had it happened too slowly for him to perceive the changes? Had all of their late night "investigations" into Lucifer and even later night editing sessions together caused them to rub off on him? All of the teasing they did of each other? The back-and-forth quips they exchanged as if they were playing tennis? The compliments veiled as insults? The insults veiled as compliments? Had they completely flipped his opinion of them without him even knowing?

Or had it happened all at once, when he had read confession note after confession note in their diary, crossed out and marked up and edited, not unlike how he wrote his articles, and felt his chest swell with each word? Each little thing they claimed to admire in him? Each piece of evidence that showed how much effort they had put into trying to make everything perfect? Had he been swayed in that instant, convinced, finally, that they weren't always nearby just to be a thorn in his side?

They stared at him expectantly.

"I- I..."

He suddenly couldn't find the words.

Well, that was a first. He almost laughed out loud at the ludicrousness of it. Him. At a loss for words. The very idea had never crossed his mind before. Sure, he had sometimes had to look up different ways to get his point across more eloquently, his thesaurus was sometimes his best friend, but he had never been so completely devoid of words before.

He pursed his lips, dumbfounded.

"Mephistopheles...?"

They managed to shake him out of his reverie, their voice gentle, and quieter than he had ever heard it before.

Their voice. He really liked their voice. When had that happened? They had just said his name. His full name, with their clumsy, human voice. He was supposed to hate human voices. They tended to trip over his name. But this one didn't. Why didn't they? Had they practiced? They must have. But why would they? Why had it mattered to them? After everything he had put them through, why did they even bother giving him the time of day, much less recite his name over and over to themself until they got it right?

His hands, seemingly of their own accord, drifted to their face once more.

The human, a flustered expression plastered to thdid own face, could only splutter as he brought his forehead to theirs.

"What I mean..." Mephistopheles stated, so close now to them he felt he his heart might burst, "...is this."

The last thing he saw before closing his eyes and locking his lips with theirs, was a look of pure wonder.

He burned it into his memory forever.

It was like he was desperate; the second he had given in and kissed them, he couldn't get enough. But the way they was responding to him, it seemed as if they felt the same. Their hands had hooked around his neck, pulling him as close to themself as they could with a table in between the two of them.

They tasted so sweet. Like the berries they ate throughout the day that he would poke fun at them for, seemingly the only healthy things they'd eat with regularity amidst the snacks and junk foods they enjoyed.

Their hands were exploring now, fingers combing through his undershave. But his were no different. Running up and down their neck before slowly making his way back to their face.

He wanted to stay in this moment forever, but alas, he knew they couldn't. After all, they both sadly needed to breathe.

As they parted, he realized he was the last out of the two of them to open his eyes.

They were staring at him, panting, stars in their eyes. It was enough to make his own breath hitch.

"What... Was that...?" They asked, breathlessly.

"That..." He stopped, panic creeping in. What was that, indeed? It was unlike him to suddenly lose himself like that.

He scrambled internally for a reply, some kind of excuse, a way to claim temporary insanity, anything except the truth...!

The truth.

It suddenly smacked him.

The truth, the one thing he knew he could always count on from them. His MC. His wonderfully human MC.

He loved them.

No matter how hard he tried to bury it away from himself, there was no hiding from the truth. He should have known that.

He loved them.

"...That was my own confession." He finally managed, looking down in embarrassment.

"I read page after page of yours... Which I know was wrong...!" He added hastily, "but after reading all of those kind words, and then... Reading how much you thought I hated you, I..."

He locked eyes with them again, scared of how they would react, but determined to vocalize his feelings.

"I don't hate you. MC, I adore you. I've come to realize I am absolutely smitten with you. I was just too stupid to figure it out until now."

[venigni]

I just want to talk about the tragedy of Venigni for a sec. (Spoilers)

So, I regard this sidequest as one of the very few in the game that has a happy-ish ending. Everything about the game is bitter, and the best we get--even in the best ending of the game--is bittersweet. Venigni's questline is no different.

On first sight, the quest has a mostly satisfying conclusion: You return Venigni's childhood toy to him, (potentially) kill Arlecchino, and give him closure on his parents' murders.

But Venigni is still a deeply tragic character.

Based on documents we find throughout the game, we know the Venigni Company itself is taking full responsibility for the Frenzy.

We also know that Venigni basically lost all hope after the Frenzy began, and with how closely he ties himself to his work--literally naming all of his inventions and ventures after himself--he takes this responsibility on his very own shoulders, as well.

A lot of the characters we interact with throughout the game have already had their tragedies inflicted upon them. Usually we're just the bearer of bad news. Venigni is unique in this regard because once you learn of his parents' murders, you are led to believe that was his tragedy. It is not.

Venigni's true tragedy is ongoing, and it is that he is the weight bearer of a series of traumatic and terrible events. The game's events are no exception, because not only does Venigni hold himself accountable for the death of his parents...

...and the puppets who started the puppet frenzy...

...if you decide to tell him the truth about Romeo's message, he also bears the weight of instilling the Grand Covenant within every single puppet; Geppetto's personal fail safe that ensures his complete control over them that gave him the ability to initiate the Frenzy. This is why, yet again, lying in this game serves to ease others' pain, while telling the truth is often seen as the harsher, less-human option. Because the entire reason Venigni came up with the Grand Covenant in the first place was to stop puppets from murdering humans. To stop what happened to him from ever happening again.

And as a result, he unknowingly assisted Geppetto, whom he trusted more than anyone in not only manufacturing all of the puppets, but also...

...in laying all the necessary groundwork for Krat-wide genocide.

Yet another thing he must carry on his shoulders. The pain he must feel is unbearable and still he does his best to put on a smile every single day and try to make others laugh; try to bring joy and hope into the world with his inventions, and be helpful in any way he can to those better suited to fighting on the front lines, like the stalkers and P.

Oh, and on top of that all, he's witnessed almost all of his friends and family die--not just his parents, but Antonia, too, as he particularly mentions she was like family to him growing up--and got betrayed by Geppetto, who played him like a fiddle seemingly their entire friendship.

Venigni, too, is a deeply tragic character, just as every single character is in Lies of P. Even if P helped him in finding hope again, even after the dust settles, he will always have all this contend with. For this very reason that he is such a sad character, he is also a very inspiring one. He persevered. Despite it all, he keeps moving forward.

I know Venigni can come off as a silly character. But he's one of my favorites in all of video games. Never give up! Keep your chin up! Wake up to live another day! Stay smiling! If Venigni does it, you can, too!!!

[taempteng]

【 Analytical Essay 】 Lies of P: Lying is Innately Human

Introduction | The Concept of Lying

Humans lie. Some more than others, but the fact remains. No matter the background, humans always lie.

Lying is when you knowingly make a false statement. Since it is used to deceive someone, lying is seen as a bad act of character. However, is delusion all there is to lying?

Disney’s Pinocchio puts heavy emphasis on the act of lying. Whenever Pinocchio lies, his nose grows longer. Disney popularised the connection between Pinocchio’s story and the moral “never tell a lie”.

Lies of P also explores the concept of lying through its gameplay. Unlike Disney’s moral-of-the-story approach, the game encourages you to lie. It is a necessary feature Pinocchio must carry out to become human.

Interestingly enough, Lies of P does not paint lying in a bad light. In fact, it justifies Pinocchio’s lies. Through the many circumstances he encountered, the game shows us the different scenarios where a lie would benefit over the truth.

Like many aspects in life, there is nuance to lying, and deceit may not be the only reason for a person to lie.

One | Preserve One's Feelings

Honesty can hurt. Not everyone is built for the cold hard truths. However, if you have the ability to spare their feelings, will you not do that? Especially if the truth will not bother them for the foreseeable future. One white lie cannot possibly hurt anyone, right?

The first person Pinocchio ever lied to was the Weeping Woman. She resided in the quarantine zone where she lived separately from her baby, Elena. She asked Pinocchio to reunite her with her baby, stating that he could find her at the Krat City Hall.

However, upon arrival, Pinocchio found no survivors. He picked up a broken baby puppet at the venue before returning to the Weeping Woman. Sensing his presence, she urged Pinocchio to give her Elena.

He handed her the broken baby puppet. Believing to be holding her child, the Weeping Woman cried in relief. She asked if Pinocchio found Elena cute, which led to the puppet’s first lie to a human.

Pinocchio indulged in her question, omitting the fact that the baby was a puppet. The Weeping Woman was too emotional to realise she was not holding Elena. She truly believed she was reunited with her child.

When Pinocchio set off to find Elena, the Weeping Woman was already losing her sight to the Petrification Disease. By the time he returned, she could not see anymore. She trusted Pinocchio’s expedition to be a success and never found out that her baby had already passed.

The Weeping Woman would have been heartbroken if she found out Elena was gone. Pinocchio did not want her to live in grief and solitude. So, he pretended the broken baby puppet was her child, allowing her to live peacefully with the belief that she is now with her beloved daughter.

Later in the game, Eugénie caught wind of Alidoro’s arrival at the hotel. In the past, Alidoro lost a finger after saving Eugénie from the collapsing Workshop Tower. As a token of appreciation, Eugénie crafted a pair of gloves for his missing limb and asked for Pinocchio’s help to deliver the gift.

Sadly, when Alidoro received the gloves, he was offended. He insulted the gloves’ design and waved Pinocchio off. When Pinocchio returned to Eugénie, she asked about Alidoro’s response.

Pinocchio did not relay the message and instead claimed Alidoro liked the present. Eugénie was delighted by the news and thanked Pinocchio for his help. It is unclear whether Eugénie ever encounters Alidoro after the incident, but it is safe to assume she never finds out about his true reaction.

If Pinocchio had told Eugénie the truth, he could risk hurting her feelings. Though it did not happen in the Truth route, it was still a plausible outcome. So, by lying about Alidoro’s response, Pinocchio could ensure that Eugénie was not hurt by the reaction and maintained a perfect image of her saviour.

Further on in his journey, Pinocchio met a soldier named Belle. When he found her in the hotel, she asked for his help in locating her partner, Atkinson. Belle had separated from him when the Puppet Frenzy took a turn for the worst.

When Pinocchio found Atkinson, he was in the final stages of mutation. He had been infected by the Petrification Disease. He gave Pinocchio a letter, asking him to tell Belle that he died a soldier.

Pinocchio reported back to Belle about his findings. He handed her the letter and claimed Atkinson met his end while fighting a puppet. Though grieved by the news, Belle still thanked Pinocchio for his service.

No matter the truth or lie, Belle will be hurt anyway. At least, by claiming Atkinson died in combat rather than turning into a monster, Belle’s image of her partner would not be tainted. She can remember him as a brave soldier, instead of a pitiful man who succumbed to the disease.

Although honesty is enlightening, a white lie does not hurt anyone. Rather than scarring the listener for life, telling them a lie can spare their feelings. It is occasions like these where lying can be justified.

Two | Politeness and Courtesy

Emotion is fickle. It is fluid, allowing room for random outbursts. Humans may lie in fear of the truth evoking these reactions from a listener.

Ego and dignity are just as fickle. Everyone has an image to uphold. When that image is challenged, people will become defensive and react harshly.

Humans lie regularly in formal settings. Even if a person hates someone, they must show the other person respect. They will use honeyed words to stroke the listener’s ego and maintain their own image.

Humans also use honeyed words on their loved ones. Usually, it is to comfort the loved ones from the apparent but ugly truth. Their sweet lies are seen as a form of support and courtesy.

As the game progresses, Antonia showed signs of the Petrification Disease. She lamented on her youthful past and asked Pinocchio if she was as beautiful as her younger self. When he answered “yes”, Antonia gave praise to Geppetto for teaching him well.

Even if the words are not true, you will be perceived to have good manners when you sweet talk a person. It shows that you respect their feelings and thoughts. It will reflect well on yourself and those acquainted to you.

Three | Appease the Listener

There are times where people will ask you about your opinions. Stating the truth will tell them what they want to know; stating a lie will tell them what they want to hear.

During his journey through Krat, Pinocchio came across a gentleman named Julian. Julian asked for Pinocchio’s help in retrieving his wife’s, Melody’s, belongings. When Pinocchio found Melody, he learned that she was actually a puppet.

After Pinocchio returned Melody’s belongings, Julian apologised for not mentioning she was a puppet. He explained how both of them were actually in love, even when everyone mocked them. He then asked if Pinocchio had ever heard of a human and a puppet falling in love with each other.

Instead of answering, Pinocchio claimed he found a message left behind by Melody, stating her love to Julian. Julian believed Pinocchio’s words and mourned for the lover he lost. He rewarded Pinocchio for his help and hoped he would also find true love.

Though Pinocchio made that claim, he did not actually find said message. He did find it later on in his venture, but the fact remained that he pulled that declaration out of thin air. Pinocchio knew how much Julian loved Melody and lied about the message to ease his aching heart.

After his talk with Antonia, Pinocchio met with Polendina. He confessed to having an awoken ego, and through it he fell in love with Antonia. Polendina worried for Antonia as she showed signs of the Petrification Disease and voiced his anxiety towards her death.

Polendina asked if it was possible for a puppet to fall in love with a human. Pinocchio responded by showing Melody’s wedding ring. Polendina swooned over the sight and thanked Pinocchio for his answer, even if it may be a sweet lie he told.

Unlike other puppets, Pinocchio can lie. Despite knowing that, Polendina chose to believe Pinocchio’s words. He accepted the possibility of a puppet falling in love with a human and continued to exist knowing his love for Antonia was real.

Pinocchio met Simon Manus at the Grand Exhibition Conference Room after defeating Victor. Simon explained that he had been using the Petrification Disease to strengthen humans, and Victor was a result of such an experiment. He asked for Pinocchio’s opinion on his “cure”.

Pinocchio replied that he saw Simon’s “cure” as a hope for humanity. Simon expressed surprise at Pinocchio’s open-mindedness, despite knowing it was a lie. Simon then raved about his discovery, saying how he can achieve an übermensch through this experiment.

Simon has the ability to tell apart truths and lies. Yet, he accepted Pinocchio’s dishonesty as it agreed with his perspective. He was glad to find a like-minded person, even if the words do not resonate their true thoughts.

Four | Personal Safety

Lies do not just protect a person’s mentality and emotion. It can also protect them physically. It redirects unwanted attention and shields them from danger.

Pinocchio first met Alidoro at St Frangelico Cathedral Library. He was seeking refuge and asked Pinocchio about a safe place. Before his journey, Geppetto warned Pinocchio against disclosing the Hotel Krat to outsiders. So, Pinocchio pointed Alidoro to Venigni’s Works. Alidoro was worried since it was the place where puppets were made, but he trusted Pinocchio’s words nonetheless.

Although the Hotel Krat is a safe shelter, inviting unwanted guests can bring harm to the inhabitants. We can never tell if a stranger is dangerous, since they can turn against us on a whim. It is best to avoid them altogether than to risk everyone’s safety in the name of kindness.

After his second fight with the Black Rabbit Brotherhood, Pinocchio returned to the Hotel Krat. Venigni succeeded in decoding the King of Puppet’s Message and asked Pinocchio to give it a listen. Through it, he learned the culprit behind the Puppet Frenzy, and it was Geppetto.

Venigni could not hear the last part of the message, where the identity of the instigator was revealed. When questioned on whether Pinocchio caught the name of the culprit, he lied and said he did not. Venigni was visibly disheartened by the news, but tried to maintain hope as he entrusted Pinocchio to save Krat.

Geppetto is Pinocchio’s father. Perhaps Pinocchio did not believe his father capable of such atrocity. Or maybe, he feared what the survivors would do if they realised Geppetto was behind the Puppet Frenzy. Not wanting to put his father in danger, Pinocchio lied about not catching the name of the culprit. His love and loyalty to his father proved stronger than his commitment to the safety of those around him, because he cannot bear any harm befalling Geppetto from the discovery.

While journeying through Krat, Pinocchio answered many phone calls from the King of Riddles. On their final phone call, the King of Riddles asked Pinocchio: Was he a killer or not?

Pinocchio answered “no”. The King of Riddles was flabbergasted. He wondered if Pinocchio was being self-conscious of his actions and mocked him for feeling guilty. Still, the King of Riddles let Pinocchio off with a parting gift.

When accused of a crime, it is reflex for humans to deny. Even for Pinocchio, despite being aware of all the Puppets and mutated humans he slain. No one wants to be branded a sinner, so a lie they shall tell to claim innocence.

In the final arc, Pinocchio found Geppetto at the Arche Abbey. He informed Pinocchio about Simon’s plans and entrusted Pinocchio with the task of stopping him. However, Geppetto needed to make sure one query — whether Pinocchio trusted him.

Pinocchio said Geppetto was a trustworthy father, much to his relief. He was then sent off with well wishes before his showdown with Simon Manus.

At this point of his journey, Pinocchio knew Geppetto was the culprit behind the Puppet Frenzy. Geppetto was clearly not a man to be messed with. If Pinocchio answered earnestly, who knows what Geppetto will do to him?

Lies are powerful in deterring the attention of people who want to harm us. If it does not convince them to back off, then it takes them off into second guessing themselves. It keeps us safe or gives us time to escape from the danger.

Conclusion | An Innately Human Action

Lies may reflect badly on a person’s character. However, it is not without its merits. From sparing one’s feelings to protecting oneself from physical harm, lying can bring good not just to the speaker, but also to the listener and those outside of the conversation.

Lies of P captured the complex nature of lying through Pinocchio’s interaction with the world. Instead of condemning the act, the game presents difficult scenarios where lying is more merciful than honesty. In doing so, it taught Pinocchio the depth of humanity and to be thoughtful with his words.

Much like humans, the act of lying is complicated. Though we are advised against lying, we still do so in our daily lives. It is just an innately human act, and that is okay.

[vay99]

Loki x reader

I hated that I love you

Anime/Manga: Shuumatsu no valkyrie

The God of deceit and the God of fidelity, polar opposites, destined to hate one another. Which is why you're avoiding Loki as much as possible, while Loki, well...

"Oh if that's not the Queen of honesty." Loki appeared out of nowhere, floating above your head.

"And in all honesty, I'd love to strangle you right now because your timing is as awful as ever." you snap, picking up your pace a little.

"Busy? You? With what could you be busy?"

"Planning your funeral." you respond shortly, shoving his head away.

"Ouch, that huuuurt y/n." he dramatically bends over, holding his chest as if you just broke his heart. "But how would you survive without me?"

"Without a headache that's constantly following me like a dog I'd suppose."

"Oh no, you're making you way to earth again?" Loki groans, seeing the portal not far away.

"Yeah, because unlike you I use my abilities to help humans. Which means to tidy up the mess you leave behind every time you decide to visit your, how you call it, 'playground'."

"Oh~ So that means without me you'd have nothing to do on earth? How sweet of you to admit that you need me." he lands in front of you, squeezing your cheeks.

"I need you to stop touching my cheeks before I rip your hands off." you slap them away, escaping through the earth portal.

"Annoying her won't ever get boring~"

After a few days you returned, immediately searching for your friend Buddha, knowing that Loki will leave you alone since he can't stand the Buddhist God.

"Seems like you had a successful trip." Buddha jokes, eating his basket full of candy you brought him from earth.

"Sure, because making humans honest and polite is done in a week." you scoff, falling onto the green grass, taking in the scent of wildflowers around you. "I wish they'd understand."

"You still talking about humans?"

"Who else would I be talking about?"

Watching you with a piercing stare Buddha continues eating. "So you don't know it yet, mhm."

"What don't I know? Buddha? Hey come on, answer me!" you demand, trying to snatch the sweet out off his hands to get an answer out of him.

Since he won't tell, you've decided to just relax and enjoy the sunny day, before heading back to your room in the evening.

On your way back you feel that all the stress has left your body, that's until...

"Oh, look who's back~"

"I should've just stayed there." you grumble to yourself, wanting to teleport yourself away, but sadly that's Lokis specialty.

"Did you miss me?" Loki chuckles, standing right in your way.

"Sure, so much that I could cry right now." you say, trying to get past him.

"But I wouldn't want you to cry darling~"

"I've seen you make babies cry."

"Well, you're not a baby." he explains, as if that's something that should comfort you.

"You've got serious issues." you pat his shoulder before pushing him out of your way by this movement.

"I've been to Psychologists before, the greatest of mankind, guess why they all went insane." he skips besides you with a chuckle on his lips.

"So you were that! Do you know how much work it was to get them out of the psychiatry!?" you shout, knowing just how much easier your life would be if Loki would stop getting in your way. "Why do you always have to destroy my work?!"

"Without me you wouldn't have anything to do though." he reasons, telling the truth for once.

That's when you remember something Buddha told you once before 'The universe needs balance, where there's light, there will be shadows, when there is happiness there will be sadness, honesty and lies, love and hate, fear and bravery. That's what the God's are for.'

"I need you..."

"I'm sorry, what?" caught off guard by that confession he looks at you with wide eyes.

"I need you."

"Aww, are you finally-"

"No, I mean that I need you. You're the opposite of me, I need you to bring balance onto earth. It's impossible to make all humans honest and polite, without you this world wouldn't work!"

"So..." he blinks a few times, sorting the new information he just got. "You need me, as God of deceit?"

"Yes!"

"Not as Loki?"

"Where is the difference?" you ask, crossing your arms in front of your body.

"None, of course, I'm just joking." he laughs, flipping himself upside down into the air.

You're watching him in silence, wondering if he forgot what one of your abilities are.

"Loki? Even though you're basically the God of lies I can still see if you're lying or not."

"You're wrong then." he keeps his act up, ruffling your hair to confuse you.

"I always hated you."

"You..." Lokis face gives it all away, no lies, no mask, just for a split second his emotions are clear to see.

"I hated you." you repeat yourself, watching Loki land on his feet again. You have told him to die before, yet thus felt worse because unlike usually you have a stern look on your face. "I hated what you did to everyone around you, and yet there were moments I felt as if I talked to another person. You're barely ever Loki gut the God of deceit. So go ahead and guess which one I hate."

"I am both so either way you hate me." he spits back, furrowing his eyebrows.

"The God of deceit and the God of fidelity are polar opposites, needing the other to exist. Loki and y/n have a personality." you start to walk past him. "Took me some time to realize how we fit together, so take your time as well."

Once you've reached your room you sink into the ground. "How the hell did Buddha know before even I did?"

Since that day you haven't heard of Loki, he has dissappeared info thin air. And you hate to admit but you miss his teasings, your bickering and how you knew exactly how to push the others buttons. Yeah, you did wanna strangle him most of the time but you never did. Each time the two of you threatened the other it was clear to both of you that this was not going to happen.

"If this is taking him any longer than I'll just smash his head into a wall until his brain functions again." you groan, done with searching through every part of heaven to find him.

"It only took me one day but I used the other six to panic." the voice you've missed more than you'd admit right now calls out.

"Loki!? Where the hell have you been?" you turn around, unsure whether to hug him or push him into the fountain behind him.

"I hid from you!"

"Thousands of years you came as close as possible to invade my personal space and the second I tell you that this could work out you disappear!" you let your frustration out.

"Okay so that's really what you meant and my ears weren't playing a trick on me." Loki rubs his temples before taking a deep breath. "Listen. I'm bad at this, you should know, out of all God's." he rubs the back of his neck, staring at his feet. "I think that the God of deceit and the God of fidelity work as opposites while y/n and Loki work as, as in a, like a us?"

"Yeah you gotta practice on that one sweetheart."

"Sweetheart????" he looks up to you, still a pink blush decorating his cheeks.

"Awww, this is already a great start!" you cup his cheeks.

"Okay, whatever." he resigns, melting into your touch.

"What's just happening?" you ask, watching the usually loud and sarcastic Loki become quiet and sweet.

"You made my personality take a whole flip so guess why I panicked." he mutters, rubbing his face against your hands like a cat.

"Yeah I'd panic too right now if you weren't so adorable." you hold back a chuckle, earning his death glare, which is a very mild from once directed at you.

"Shut up, your touch feels nice!" he whines, turning himself into a black cat.

"You really think you're gonna get more cuddles if you look like that?" you cross your arms. "You know what, there's plenty of kittens at Buddha's place, let me just-" you turn around to leave.

"No." Loki hugs you from behind, his old self again. Oh well, maybe not his old old self. "Why hang with this peace loving hippie. I will turn the world into hell for you to rescue, who else would do that?"

"This is oddly the most romantic sentence I've ever heard leaving your mouth." you laugh, leaning backwards into his touch. This will definitely be a rough ride, but at least with Loki it won't ever get boring.