#information over indoctrination

[velvees-archive]

At 20 years old, Miles Edgeworth’s only mentor tells him never to step foot into his opponent’s territory lest he fail to crush them in court. 4 years later, Edgeworth enters Defendant Lobby No. 1 to warn opposing counsel Phoenix Wright about Redd White’s decisive testimony.

Some post-AAI1 reflections + how Phoenix unravels Miles from the very moment they meet again.

After playing through the original trilogy, up to 4-2 on Apollo Justice, and all of Ace Attorney Investigations 1, I couldn’t help but jot down my (admittedly incomplete) thoughts about Phoenix and Edgeworth’s relationship, especially as it pertains to Miles’ “unraveling,” or his departure from von Karma’s teachings.

We already know von Karma had no love for Edgeworth. Crushing the late Gregory Edgeworth’s legacy under the guise of mentoring his son (and eventually ruining his career at its peak) was von Karma’s last act of hatred towards the departed.

From Miles’ perspective, however, von Karma was an accomplished teacher to whom he owed his gratitude and career’s success. This is important because Edgeworth’s actions are fundamentally motivated by his desire to express his “gratitude,” repay debts, and honor legacies.

His debt to von Karma compels him to strive for the perfection his mentor obsesses over. Achieving perfection takes the form of absorbing von Karma’s teachings, among them the AAI1 screenshot from earlier: only face your opponent in court, and make sure you crush them when you do it.

We know for a fact that the “demon prosecutor” internalizes von Karma’s teachings. He follows them to a T.

So, following 15 years of indoctrination, 4 years of putting the von Karma creed into practice, and an entire childhood AND early adulthood’s worth of gratitude, you’d THINK Edgeworth wouldn’t dare dishonor him…

Until he does, by coming to the defendant lobby to speak to his “enemy.”

Prior to playing AAI1, I thought the impetus for Edgeworth’s character development was 1-3, wherein he reevaluated the facts of the case and helped Phoenix get Dee Vasquez a guilty verdict. I still think 1-3 was the first time he consciously acknowledged the possibility (keyword: possibility) that his prosecutorial upbringing wasn’t..sound…(lmao!)

But with this AAI1 von Karma and Bratworth interaction, I now believe it was 1-2—with Edgeworth subconsciously disregarding his mentor’s teachings and Phoenix acting as the catalyst—that shows us when he first strayed from the path of a Von Karma.

An aside: Do I think AAI1 Bratworth was perfectly characterized? Not at all; he’s much too noble for that era of his life, though I don’t think it affects my case.

Edgeworth is a man full of contradictions. He comes to the defendant lobby to tell Phoenix his case is hopeless, though he has no obligation to disclose—nor has he ever set a precedent of disclosing—decisive witnesses’ information to his opponents.

He tells Phoenix he’ll do anything to get a guilty verdict, yet he warns the defense that his witness’s testimony will be considered infallible, prompting the player (Phoenix) to dissect the following testimonies with more care.

He tells Phoenix not to expect any special treatment from him, yet his very presence in the defendant’s lobby is in direct opposition to his respected mentor’s wishes.

It takes just one appearance from Phoenix for the filaments of von Karma’s indoctrination to unravel. 4 years into his career, Edgeworth has met many attorneys—most notably, Mia Fey—who embody Phoenix’s faith in his clients, yet none could shake his foundations like Phoenix Wright.

Edgeworth may have not been ready to turn a new leaf upon his first encounter with Phoenix, but the fact that a loose thread from his childhood (that’s emblematic of his innocence, his dreams, and dare I say his father’s drive) ultimately leads to his unraveling is poetry if I’ve ever seen it.

TL;DR Phoenix deconstructs Edgeworth like he was born to do so. The moment Phoenix decided to chase after him, Edgeworth had already lost.

[balkanradfem]

Debunking the 'males follow reason, women follow emotions' myth

A woman makes a rational demand to a male, he denies her. She gets frustrated and upset, he accuses her of being overly emotional, and the reason why women can't make good decisions. It's a situation we've seen repeat over and over again, and we've gotten convinced. After all, m*n don't get emotional, they make rational decisions, they don't have that annoying trait of having to cry or care too much, they just do what is right in any situation, while a woman could never stand in their place.

Historically, m*n have been making a lot of these, rational, non-emotional decisions, so let's analyze how they've been doing. Historically, a lot of m*n have both started, and fought in wars. According to them, this is a logical, hard factual decision they've made, and they're proud of it, wars are integral to humanity, we have to fight if we want peace, and so on. So rationally, what do wars achieve for humanity? Mass destruction, mass murder, terrorism, mass rape, mass famine, intense trauma, destruction of environment, destruction of animals, destruction of culture and property, sea of corpses. But, m*n have decided that this is reasonable, because to the country that's been doing it, it can bring new assets, colonization of land mass, new natural resources to exploit. Massive damage to one part of the population for the benefit of another part, this they say, is rational.

If you're a male, it's rational for you to cause damage to countless individuals if there is some sort of benefit to you in doing it. This is presented to us as a reasonable, human and rational thinking. They've not only indoctrinated us to believe this, but put this into their laws. They've created laws that allow them to commit murder under the circumstances of war. They've made sure to give themselves a way to commit murder to get what they want, and not be punished. Again, this is presented as inevitable, cold hard factual thinking.

I would argue that the emotions followed here are greed, sadism, pride, and deep sense of egotism. Deluding themselves into believing that the entire world is turning around their personal needs and wants, and any amount of damage made for this cause is irrelevant. This isn't rational thinking, this is selfish, valuing themselves to the point where other human lives have zero value to them; it's irrational. A woman who puts herself before others is immediately informed that she is objectively selfish, irrational, unrealistic, self-centered, and deserves any kind of harm going her way. M*n have been operating like this from the beginnng of human life, and expect to be praised as 'rational and objective', by these same women they call selfish for not acting as free servants for a second.

Let's look at another 'rational' concept males have created and developed: capitalism. Cold hard logic is – if you can exploit other people to the very maximum, and take the value of their labour for yourself, you should get to do it, and if you can't, work until your health gives out and you die in pain. Again, a group of people gets power to exploit another, resources are given to those with financial power; those who do not have it, have to fight to survive. We know at this point it's caused deaths, sicknesses, mental illness, hunger and low quality of life to the majority of the population, we also know it's caused massive environmental damage, to the point where the climate of the planet is threatened, and animals under mass extinction. Was this a logical move? Was it a normal, rational system to build? Yes according to m*n, because they get to use their financial power to rape women they wouldn't otherwise get to rape.

I would argue again, that the emotions followed in this case are selfishenss, cruelty and greed. When a woman tries to exploit people around her for her own benefit, she is called the worst slurs and names imaginable, and no punishment is too cruel to inflict on her. While m*n have been doing this for centuries and apparently we need to acknowledge that this is in fact, smart, rational and reasonable way to live, and also inevitable.

So let's see what women have been doing on earth at the same time while m*n were busy murdering people in wars and inventing financial systems that bring destruction; women were creating the human population. We were making sure that everyone alive gets to eat, drink, clean clothing, care. We were putting our labour and our minds in taking care of our family members, and fighting for our human rights whenever the situation, or the information we got allowed for it. We struggled to stand up to power-hungry m*n in our life who would exploit us, we studied and invented, we found our ways in every trade, every school, every cultural institution that did good to the planet, and we outpreformed m*n almost immediately after we got in. We gave our lives to make sure the human race isn't erased by the amount of murder and terrorism going on. We put our efforts into protecting the environment, we figured out medicine and then got destroyed for it, we lost countless of our own to murder, rape and torture, we tried to keep safe the ones who got hurt.

While m*n 'rational' and 'logical' thinking lead us closer to destruction, we've been fighting to preserve life.

Having the creatures in charge who believe themselves more rational, but function out of a place of empty pride, absolute ignorance, endless hunger for power, endless greed and insatiable sadism, is not a reasonable way to lead the civilization. In fact, it's been proven over and over again, that this causes low quality of life for everyone, creates practices that allow and support cruelty and destruction, and deals massive trauma and pain to the most of the living humans.

What is 'reasonable' to them, is for them to ignore everyone else's emotions, well being, safety, even the right to exist, and follow only their own. The reasoning they follow has nothing to do with being rational, it has to do with being selfish, proud, ignorant, and I can't stress this enough, being incredibly and utterly stupid. They're destroying the land they depend on to live, and feeling proud and rational to do so, while calling women stupid and selfish for wanting human rights.

It's been enough of this. A rational male has not been born or seen on this planet. We need to assume that every time a m*n says something, he has absolutely no clue what he's talking about, and is likely attempting to cause some damage for his own benefit – in all cases we will be right. We cannot let someone with a track record like this to be in the charge of decision making, nor should we respect their decisions. They couldn't even make laws that protect human lives. They couldn't even base their own accomplishments on the things they achieved – they had to take credit for our achievements over and over again. They are irrational, power hungry creatures that stop at nothing, humanity means nothing to them, human lives have no meaning to them. But they do to us.

We can make decision that make sense, specifically because we care about not destroying lives or the environment. We are capable of making the 'tough calls' because we will make the call that will not result in mass destruction! The only thing they keep holding over our head is that we don't have experience – but we can get it. And experience never helped them make less destructive, less stupid choices.

Male emotions are based on self-delusions. They refuse to see any consequence of their action, and play ignorant to the very end. Their empty pride, empty self-importance, empty confidence and empty arrogance is based on nothing but the lies they've told to themselves. Even slight factual analysis and statistics that come from male decisions, make their reasoning crumble into pieces.

Women's emotions are substantiated by facts. In every case when a woman has been told off for being emotional, she's getting gaslit and turned away from the cause of her emotion, which is always factual. It is reasonable to be upset at being treated as less than a human being. It is reasonable to care about the lives of other human beings. It is reasonable to care about the state of the world, state of the environment. It is reasonable to stand against destruction and loss of human lives. And yet we get told off for having the most substantiated, reasonable responses to male violence and terrorism.

And then there's one emotions males love to use to pretend they're not emotional: anger. It provides them with enough threat to stop women from analyzing and pointing out the failure of males, it works to protect them from the realization of how useless, harmful and destructive they've been. Making horrid, harmful and selfish decisions and exploding in anger if anyone comes close to pointing it out, coupled with blaming everyone else for having an emotional reaction to being harmed, is their primary 'reasonable' way of managing life. And this is what we have in charge on earth. A creature who causes damage, and then uses emotion to hide the damage they've done, while pretending to be an ignorant little baby, blissfully unaware of anything he does having any consequences.

We're done believing their lies.

[fellthemarvelous]

Aziraphale hate makes my brain hurt.

Like let's be really fuckin' for real here.

Neurodivergent fans have repeatedly said that Aziraphale is autistic coded. I agree with them. I have never been diagnosed but I wonder about myself. If only I could get a doctor to take me seriously enough to test me for it, but alas, I'm a 43-year-old woman living in the good ole US of A.

Those with religious trauma have repeatedly said that they identify with him as well. I'm one of those people. I endured 12 years of Catholic schools and just as much time being taught a very black and white view of things that I've had to spend more than 20 goddamn fucking years working to unlearn.

I find that my views as a survivor of religious abuse are often dismissed because people keep wanting to say "Aziraphale doesn't have religious trauma." Yes, thank you, I get that, but unless you've been indoctrinated and brainwashed into a very black and white view of the world, you probably don't understand the kind of feelings Aziraphale's onscreen experiences evoke in so many of us. Heaven might not be real, but the feelings of "God is always watching" still stick with me today even though I no longer believe in God. I have entirely denounced Christianity because of my own personal experience, and I refuse to allow people to try and guilt me or shame me for trauma that I didn't ask for. I wasn't given a choice.

As a child I was told that God was real and always watching everything you do (just like Santa Claus) and can hear everything you say and knows everything you are thinking. Do you know what I learned to do in order to cope with this overwhelming and anxiety-inducing information as a small child? I learned to censor my thoughts. I never spoke up, and I have always felt like I was putting on a show for people because I had to be who I was told to be or I would get into trouble.

Aziraphale said "poverty is a virtue" during The Resurrectionists, and as someone who grew up in the Bible belt and went to private schools, I was taught this very same shit by the Catholic church. He learned in that very same episode that "poverty is a virtue" is actually a tool of oppression to keep the poor poor and the wealthy wealthy. I know we all watched the episode. He went into that episode believing what he said, but by the end of it he knew it was actually utter bullshit. Aziraphale is not ignorant. He's highly intelligent, and he has never been too proud to admit when he has been wrong. He accepts that the information he learned before is not matching up with reality.

And it's so obvious some of you have zero experience with that type of indoctrination because of how very little empathy you show Aziraphale for his "mistake" of "choosing Heaven over Crowley" and "making Crowley sad" so clearly Aziraphale must somehow be "abusive" and "manipulative" and "selfish" and "self-centered" because he didn't choose to run away with Crowley at the end of season two.

First of all.

FIRST OF ALL...

Aziraphale has a mind of his own.

Aziraphale is always going to try and do what is right.

Aziraphale is an angel. He's a being of love. And the reason he's so "bad" at being an angel is because he actually wants to protect humanity. He has always loved humanity. He repeatedly has to contend with what is "right" versus what is "good" and "wrong" versus "evil". Yeah, he has flaws. He's an angel, not a goddamn fucking saint. He has lived on Earth for more than 6,000 years. He has seen everything. He loves doing human things.

He's obsessed with magic. It makes him so happy. He's not very good at it...well not when he's trying to put on a show for Crowley.

He chose to learn French the hard way, so even though he knows every single language in the world, he chooses to be mediocre at French. Something that annoys and amuses Crowley at the same time.

He loves to dance even though angels aren't supposed to dance, and dancing with Crowley was what he wanted the most.

He owns a bookshop and refuses to sell any of his books because they are books he's had for as long as there have been books. He will chase customers away from his collection, and Crowley understands how much they mean to Aziraphale because he refuses to sell any when Aziraphale leaves him in charge.

He and Crowley have been speaking to each other in coded language for more than 6,000 years. They have to be very careful about what they say because Heaven and Hell are always watching.

Heaven has photographs of Crowley and Aziraphale sitting or standing together throughout history. Hell had one photo of Crowley and Aziraphale actually working together and it was Aziraphale's quick thinking and how good he actually is at sleight of hand tricks that managed to get that photo out of Furfur's hands so he wouldn't be able to turn Crowley over to the Dark Council.

Aziraphale saved Crowley from being taken to Hell again. He wasn't able to save Crowley from Hell in Edinburgh, but he sure as heck managed to save Crowley from Hell during WWII. He took Crowley to his bookshop and showed Crowley that he stole the picture from Furfur. He saved Crowley.

You get that, right?

Aziraphale SAVED Crowley.

People always talk about how it's "always Crowley saving Aziraphale" because apparently heroic acts are only heroic when they are grand gestures. The sleight of hand wasn't heroic at all, am I right? It wasn't sparkly and showy. It wasn't interesting enough, therefore not heroic. At least that's all I'm hearing when people start with their "blah Aziraphale deserves to suffer because I have no imagination or ability to understand the media in front of me blah", and all these reasons he deserves to suffer is because Crowley almost got hurt.

Aziraphale did that without flinching and I watch that part closely every single time. He's not scared for himself. He's scared for Crowley, and he managed to hold onto that photograph. He did not fail Crowley. He protected Crowley.

And so here's another thing that we like to point out. The way that Aziraphale, an angel who is effeminate and male presenting, an angel who is soft and full of love, an angel who is kind and forgiving because he has empathy and compassion, is somehow painted as abusive and manipulative. He's not violent, but he could easily fuck up your world. He doesn't use his powers. We have no idea how powerful he is because we only ever see him do small acts. He's used to hiding. It's the only way he has ever been able to protect Crowley.

And I'm not saying that Aziraphale has actually saved Crowley before means that Crowley hasn't also saved Aziraphale. Like, you get that those are not mutually exclusive and their relationship is not transactional, right? They have spent their entire existence protecting each other but never actually getting to be together because Heaven and Hell are always watching.

Yeah, Crowley fell. We all know this. We are aware of this. He was the serpent of Eden. He gave humanity the knowledge of free will.

But what we don't talk about is what Aziraphale gave humanity.

What did he give them?

We all know what it is!

Let's say it together!

He gave Adam and Eve his flaming sword because it was dangerous outside the garden and Eve was pregnant and she was already having a really bad day. He showed them compassion and gave them his extremely powerful angelic weapon so they would stand a chance on the outside of the garden. He gave humanity the gift of compassion. It's just unfortunate that his flaming sword became a weapon of War.

And then what did he do after that?

Ooooh, yeah, that's right.

God asked him about it and he straight up lied to her and pretended he had no idea where he'd managed to misplace it. She didn't say anything after that. He told Crowley the truth though. He told Crowley the truth even though Crowley fell.

Yeah, we know Aziraphale has done some really fucking questionable things. He and Crowley both suck at passing for human in front of observant people like Nina. They're not human. They are still learning, but they managed to experience human history together despite being on opposite sides and their experiences with humanity are what has shaped them into the compassionate and loving duo they are now. One of them is not better from the other.

This, my friends, is what we call meeting in the middle. It's why shades of gray is so important. Aziraphale constantly breaks the rules. Crowley refused to play by Heaven's rules. It's the reason he fell. He doesn't play by Hell's rules either. These two dorks figured out how to cancel each others' miracles out throughout human history in order to have more time learning about humanity and each other because working all day every day sucks when there are so many new things to learn and experience with the people you love.

We know Crowley and Aziraphale both love each other. Neither of them are good at hiding the hearts stars in their eyes.

But here's what's really fucking annoying about the Aziraphale hate.

Aziraphale was already crying when Crowley grabbed him and kissed him. Aziraphale is trying so very hard to do the right thing. He loves Crowley. He does. But he also has a duty to humanity, and he has taken that job very seriously since the creation of Adam and Eve. He sent them out into the world with a flaming sword so they would have a chance at surviving beyond the walls of the garden.

And he knows that Something Terrible is going to happen and he spent all of second season trying to figure out what that Something Terrible was while trying to have some sort of more honest and open relationship with Crowley, but again, they aren't human, they are a demon and an angel approaching life from opposite sides who met in the middle and fell in love with humanity together.

He wants more than anything to tell Crowley how he feels about him, but he wants to do something grand for Crowley because Crowley has always been grand and dramatic and sexy and a little bit scary.

Crowley is impulsive and has a temper and sometimes says the wrong thing but he has always trusted Aziraphale because Aziraphale gave him a chance even after he fell. Aziraphale chose to shelter him instead of smiting him while they stood on top of that wall. He knew he was supposed to kill Crowley, but oops, he gave his sword away to the humans so he didn't really have anything to kill him with and Crowley is the one who created nebulas. The Pillars of Creation is Crowley's work and Aziraphale was there to witness that, but he watched Crowley more than he watched the nebula. He witnessed the pure joy on Crowley's face when he said "let there be light" as a nebula full of colors exploded before their eyes. He was fascinated by Crowley.

But Aziraphale is going back to Heaven even though he has made it perfectly clear he absolutely has no desire to go back to Heaven. He told the Metatron this during their conversation. He spoke these words out loud. They exist.

But then The Metatron said this....

The Metatron. The very same angel who told Aziraphale in season one "to speak to me is to speak to the Almighty." He's the boss. He's the big guy. He's used to existing as a giant head and he had to give himself a body so he wouldn't stand out on Earth. And he knows that Aziraphale and Crowley have been working together since the beginning. He knows they worked together to prevent Armageddon in season one, and now he's made it clear he knows they were working together long before that. And let's face it, Aziraphale really wants to know what this Something Terrible is that Gabriel is running from so he can try to prevent it from happening.

It makes sense that he would want to take Crowley to Heaven with him because he would be able to keep Hell from getting their hands on him again. Aziraphale hates it in Heaven. He doesn't want to go, but Something Terrible is happening and Metatron isn't taking no for an answer, and maybe Heaven won't be so bad if Crowley is there with him. At least they can fix Heaven together.

But Crowley can't go back. We all get that. We don't blame him for saying no. It doesn't change anything.

Something Terrible is about to happen and Aziraphale has to figure out what it is. He wants to change Heaven.

He is fully aware that Heaven sucks. He still has faith in God. His faith isn't in Heaven. He deserted his platoon in season one and threw himself back to Earth so he could figure out how to make sure the war between Heaven and Hell doesn't happen.

But see, here's the thing. Heaven is at the top. Heaven has all the resources. Heaven is responsible for the creation of Hell. Heaven is empty and Hell is overpopulated. Aziraphale knows this. Crowley knows this. It's obvious every time we see either place. Both sides are desperate to go to war and will not hesitate to destroy humanity in the process. This is the opposite of what Crowley and Aziraphale want for humanity. If anyone can change Heaven, it's Aziraphale. He's the only one up there who gives a shit about humanity as far as we know. No one else is going to speak on humanity's behalf.

Some of us are so busy getting mad at Aziraphale for going back to Heaven and giving Crowley a Big Sad. Newsflash: Crowley is not the main character of Good Omens. Aziraphale and Crowley are equals, yet we wanna hold Aziraphale to higher standards because he's an angel, and when he makes mistakes it's proof that he's the bad guy.

Holy mother of all things that trigger my religious trauma, let me tell you. I spent my entire life hating myself every time I made mistakes. I've had to teach myself that just because I mess up sometimes doesn't mean I'm bad. It means I'm human. I still struggle with it. I probably always will. So when you say that Aziraphale deserves to be punished for breaking Crowley's heart, you not only ignore that Aziraphale's heart is also broken, you're saying he deserves to be punished for doing what he thinks is right.

Wanting to change Heaven for the better is not a bad thing.

And some of y'all wanna see him suffer for going back into the lion's den that is Heaven, knowing that he is already an outcast, that they have already tried to kill him once, knowing that he is a deserter, that he has been lying to Heaven about a lot of things, and you still think he's blinded by Heaven? You think he's just so naive and that's the only reason he's going back. He doesn't show his emotions the same way Crowley does so it means he doesn't care as much. He's expected to consider Crowley's feelings over his own when making choices. Like holy shit if all of that hasn't defined my experience as a woman with religious trauma in this fucking society. He's expected to be subservient to Crowley and if he doesn't do what Crowley wants then he's being unreasonable and illogical.

What the actual fuck, y'all.

Like seriously.

I'm sick of this bullshit. I had to step away from this fandom because of how toxic some people in this fandom are. It's not chasing me away, but the fact that I chose to hang out in a a more toxic fandom that is already notorious for being really toxic over a fandom that claims to be more open-minded and welcoming should probably tell you something.

It gave me a lot of perspective, and yeah, I'm still gonna speak up against the bullshit Aziraphale hate.

People are entitled to their opinions, but the Aziraphale hate isn't an opinion. It's just ableist, misogynistic garbage. At this point we all know y'all say these extreme things about Aziraphale because y'all get more joy out of the harm and alienation it is causing others.

Keep being loudly wrong, but if you think I'm not entitled to challenge shitty-ass, harmful, hateful discourse, bite my ass.

I'm not the one who lost the plot in this fandom.

[jesusinstilettos]

Remember the concept of consent applies to religion too. Think of the acronym FRIES. Consent is: Freely given, Reversible, Informed, Enthusiastic, Specific.

It’s not consent if the threat of hell for leaving is looming over you, that’s not freely given or reversible. Thats coercion.

You can’t consent if you were born into it, because a child can’t fully understand all they are agreeing to when forced into a specific religious group. That’s not informed.

If you were converted into a cult later in life, odds are they didn’t tell you all you were agreeing to up front. They often masquerade as regular Christians Bible studies or other harmless things. And they don’t tell you the more extreme things until they’ve manipulated you and indoctrinated you enough. That’s not informed consent.

When you have to pledge loyalty to a group before fully understanding what all that entails (looking at you Mormon church and your Endowment ceremony), that’s not informed consent.

You can’t fully consent if you’re being manipulated, lied to, threatened, indoctrinated, abused, mislead, etc.

I was both born into an abusive religion and then converted into a cult as a teenager and consent was never able to be fully given for any of it. I could give a bunch of other reasons, but I think you get it. People don’t consent to joining abusive religions.

[bird-inacage]

The Heart Killers EP2: Kant's Game of Deception

I'm acutely aware that with each episode, Kant's undercover mission gains momentum and the lie gets bigger and deeper, slowly ramping up the tension towards an eventual and inevitable apex. While Kant is still zeroed in on what will best aid him to get there, we're starting to see just how entangled this web will become.

BEST FRIEND & ACCOMPLICE, BROTHER & SUPPORTER

What really hit home for me this week is that neither Style or Babe have any idea of what Kant's really up to. Style believes Kant is finally pursuing someone seriously, and is willing to wingman for his best friend. Unbeknownst to him, there's considerable risk with his involvement - risk that Kant has not explicitly mentioned. In addition to that, he's also unknowingly become an accomplice.

Babe also oversees Kant flirting with Bison in their courtyard, and innocently presumes his brother is trying to win over the heart of someone he likes, to no avail. Cue little bro's words of wisdom that come from a place of wishing his brother the best in his efforts.

It's a reminder that Bison may be the centre of this deception, but the ripple effect of Kant's mission extends far further. Others will unwittingly wind up in the mix if he is to pull this feat off. The question is what are the possible repercussions to those beyond just him alone?

WINNING BISON'S HEART

As Bison continues to keep himself just out of reach, Kant devises a scenario to earn brownie points - inspired by Babe's advice. He pays a friend to hit on Bison, who he wards off in a show of jealousy and protectiveness, hoping the gesture will prove his sincerity for Bison as a romantic prospect.

Kant's goal is to convince Bison to be his boyfriend, which would allow him the closeness he needs to dig for information. What complicates their interactions is that a mutual connection was established between the two before the mission even began. So this makes it even muddier to distinguish where Kant's lies begin and end, and will only continue to get blurrier as his feelings develop.

Paying for a plant is overtly calculated, whereas divulging things about himself is more ambiguous. This could be perceived as a manipulative tactic to garner Bison's compassion, by appearing upfront and open about himself. Or it could just be Kant's way of getting to know Bison on a personal level because he interests him. The lens in which we interpret his actions depend on if you believe he's acting solely in service of the mission or otherwise.

EARNING BISON'S TRUST

What Kant doesn't know is how enamoured Bison is by his attentions already. The boy is noticeably giddy whenever he thinks and talks about him. He wants to believe that Kant is just a harmless suitor with no other intentions but to date him.

Style inserts further affirmations about his best friend because he's also none the wiser and truly believes in what he is saying. This will only make Kant's intentions appear more favourable in Bison's eyes.

Bison is probably trained to sense danger, hammered in by Fadel's incessant scolding and years of indoctrination by his 'Mother'. But in this instance Bison's concerns lean towards that of any normal person. He's wavering over Kant's proposition because he's unsure if Kant's a player or not, and isn't fully convinced someone would want to be his boyfriend after such a casual fling. What he's not entertaining are any serious suspicions that Kant's a fraud or threat.

He feels sure enough about Kant's integrity (as a person, not a man) that he's willing to consider exposing himself, something that Fadel reacts to with incredulity. Bison seems to feel that if Kant has been honest with him, he would like to reciprocate and be honest about who he is in return. (Little does he know).

FADEL'S WARINESS BACKFIRES

There's no irony lost on the fact that Fadel is right on the nose with his suspicions. But his concerns are having the opposite effect. The more he warns Bison and urges him to tow the line, the more Bison will be compelled to defy and rebel against this restraint on his life, and the more he'll be drawn to Kant as a result.

Bison wants to defend Kant. Bison wants to be proven right that his brother is being overly paranoid and misguided to think in such a way. He wants confirmation that everything he's been told by Fadel and his Mother is simply untrue, and that there's more to live for.

Writing the above already makes my heart die a little inside, because the more Bison defends Kant, the more awful I feel about his impending reaction to finding out he was lied to.

You can keep tabs on bird-inacage’s BL meta directory for my other long-form posts around The Heart Killers, which I’ll be updating in real time as the show airs.

[incorporealbombchelle]

On Earth As It Is In Heaven

Mr.Reed x Fem! Reader (Mid 20s) (18+)

[A/N: This part is a continuation of Part 2 and will seem completely out of whack without the context defined therein. Check my blog's pinned post for all 3 parts in order. ]

Synopsis: Pt. 3 - (y/n) is introduced to a new system of belief...

⚠️TW: Percieved Heresy, Catholicism Mentions, Condescension, Crude Language, Possible Vague and Obscure Spoilers for 'Heretic' (2024), Age Gap, Lectures, Blood, Violence, A Somewhat Graphic Depiction of Gore, Oral Sex (Male Recipient), Raw P in V Penetration, Terror & Tense Situations, General Smut.

When I come to I'm clothed, and my body is seemingly unharmed but I still feel fuzzy, disoriented.  The taste of the wine I shared with Mr. Reed remains on my tongue and I swallow, noticing a faint smell of perfume and... something else? Something coppery....

I breathe as deeply and quietly as I can and allow my eyes to open. A small room, dimly lit and painted green. It's lined with paintings of gods and prophets, shelves of books and records, and a vinyl player sits off to the side, similar to the bedroom. Looking down, I realize I'm seated in a pew, of which there are rows. Is this... a church?

Two doors line the wall ahead of me, one green and one purple, behind a large desk with a half-burned candlestick on it. From the green door, Mr. Reed emerges in the checkered cardigan I remember him in from when he first ushered me inside, and the pajamas he threw on after we...

I'm extremely confused.

"Well hello!! Look at you!! How're you feeling? Bit groggy, I'd imagine? You were just a *touch* over served, that's on me." He admits, stashing a bright green watering can under the desk and grabbing his notebook and pencil off of it to write something down.

"Seventeen Hours. Good." He looks back to me, an excited grin on his face.

"Mister Reed?" I ask softly.

"Ms. (y/n)?" He chuckles, taking a step closer.

"What happened? What is this? How did I get here?"

"You were drugged, this" he gestures around us "is an institution of learning, and you were carried here. Anything further? No? Good. Let's get cracking!" He claps, rubbing his hands together and I jump in my seat.

"Whu-" I'm more confused than I was initially after this brief, unhelpful explanation but he prattles on;

"A few miligrams of temazepam in the wine, nothing lethal." He narrows his eyes, pointing a finger at me "You were indoctrinated into catholicism from what age?"

"I was baptized at two...why d-"

"Two. Years. Old. TWO, (Y/N)!! Forgive me but that's fucking ridiculous. You had no information and no way of consenting to whatever 'soul-protecting' rituals catholics do to children at two years of age.

You have lived your entire life by the teachings of a cult, my dear. A popular cult with a good handle on architecture and design, but a cult all the same. With their gaudy, artsy buildings and their priests wrapped up in silk and you," he looks me over, his expression sympathetic "Full of all that eternal guilt and shame for your entirely natural feelings and urges. For what? A reward only recieved after death? Heaven is about as meaningful to the living as a gold star sticker on a child's spelling test and I believe, no I know, that you're aware of this, (y/n). "

He sits on the edge of the desk as he lectures me and I take a second to look myself over.

These.... are not my clothes. A long, dark grey wool skirt with... a short-sleeved black mock neck sweater tucked into it..., the inside of the right sleeve is caked in some dark, calcified stain... These are...  comfortable clothes, modest clothes, thank God, but they. Are not. Mine. I shudder. How did he get these? And where is this lecture going? He pulls a few different versions of monopoly and the landlord game from the nearby shelves and likens them to different religions, laying a holy book atop each and telling me about 'iterations' and I am not listening and the stain on the inside of my sleeve that isn't my sleeve is almost definitely someone's blood and now I'm scared and what is going on? There's an immense pressure in my head and I'm breathing too fast -- is this how I die?

In this decidedly unholy place, amongst all these artifacts I've been told would protect me, at the hands of a man who not only led me into temptation, but now purports to have the ability to deliver me from evil? Is he the evil? I'm overwhelmed and I cry.

I cry like I have never cried before. My face is wet and I'm sobbing and I'm hyperventilating and Mr. Reed finally stops talking so I look up, flushed, snivelling, unsure of his next move.

He seems shocked for a moment, eyes widening. Then his brow furrows again as he leaves his place at the desk to stand beside me. "Shhh, shhh, come now. That's a bit dramatic, eh? Catholic school lasts what, twelve years? You can stand to listen to an old man drone on for a minute."

He sheds his cardigan, draping it over my shoulders as they shake. He produces a tissue from one of his pockets and brings it to my face, dabbing away my tears. "You've been extraordinary for me so far, (y/n)." Mr. Reed scoots into the pew next to me, his eyes catch mine and he hums, reassuring "Such a virtuous, reasonable, obedient girl." I take a breath, resenting how much I lust after his blessing, his praise.  "See, I'm just introducing you to something new. Something different than that to which you're accustomed," He resumes, snaking an arm around my shoulder "When you walked in here, you weren't used to having your beliefs challenged. Only affirmed. It was scary, mm? But you let me in. You let me experience all of you, inside and out, because somehow, somewhere, deep inside, you know I'm right. You know this is right : what we do, who we are together. You taught me your doctrine, I owe it to you to teach mine."

"But you- you requested the- why...?" My voice cracks.

He squeezes my shoulder, speaking softly into the crook of my neck "Knowledge, (y/n), is power. Power is... what? Mm? What does power give to us?"

I shiver at the feeling of his breath on my neck and silently curse myself for welcoming it. "Uhm..." I look up at him, uncertain "Control?"

"Control! Exactly! Brilliant!"

I can't help the small smile that arrives on my face at knowing the correct answer to one of his questions.

"Control is the root of each of these doctrines." He gestures to the desk with the games and books laid out on it  "Think of your church. Sit, stand, kneel, listen to some old twat tell you you're unworthy of heaven, sit, stand kneel, stand, sing, kneel again, eat some crackers, go home. It's all programming.  They have you learn all that bovine choreography not because it amplifies your prayers to some all knowing benevolent being, but because it subdues you. It tires you out. Makes your body ache. You need something to do with your hands in those pews so you fold them in reverence because idle hands are the devil's playthings, are they not?"

"... Sure.... Mister Reed? Whose clothes are these?"

"Some things aren't for us to know, (y/n). And some are. Like how I know," he smiles "that you are going to continue to be keen for me, stop asking ridiculous questions, and do what I say. Because we're both thoroughly aware of the fact that I am your god now." His breath is hot on my neck as he chuckles, I can feel his grin, and I flinch.

He's in control. Older. Wiser. Stronger. Smarter. I look up into his eyes and he kisses me before I can even think to move away. His tongue tackles mine, fingers lacing into the hair at the nape of my neck, his other hand squeezes my thigh, my eyes roll back "mmh-" and maybe he is God. He breaks the kiss, looking me over.

His eyes undress me and I wish his hands would follow suit but they don't.

"Walk to the desk, stand in front of it."

I do as he says. There are 4 rows of pews on either side of the room and at the end of the aisle there is a door that seems to lead into a hallway. As I make note of this, Mr. Reed gets up from his place and begins stacking the books and board games, placing them on the floor beside the desk, and setting the needle on the vinyl player. He stands before me, bringing a hand up to stroke my cheek.

The song he's selected begins with a wavering guitar note, and I recognize it immediately. 'If, I could make a wish, I think I'd pass, can't think of anything I need-'

"Have you heard this song before, (y/n)?"

'No, cigarettes no sleep, no light, no sound...' the song plays on.

"Of course, Mr. Reed.  'The Air That I Breathe' by The Hollies? Everyone knows this song."

He closes the short distance between us, smirking down at me as his fingers trail the outside of my arms.

"Not. Everyone. And certainly not everyone your age. Your generation is a mess. All depression and 'memes' and vanity," he rolls his eyes "but it's obvious that you, my dear, are something totally different. You're a person of tradition, sure, but more importantly, one of great intellect. We share this trait. Because of it, people shy away from us. Ostracize us. Call us 'crazy' or 'obsessive' of our interests. Hence why no one's come here looking for you. To them," he takes my hands in his "We are alien in our entirety. But to Me, you are an angel. A lost lamb, searching for truth in every interaction, looking for a god in all things. You were destined to find me eventually, to be freed of your inhibitions and made new... "

His eyes are wide and I watch them flicker with something unidentifiably terrifying. The song ends and the record skips as the room's momentarily warm ambiance is replaced by silence again.

"Mis-mister Reed?" I blink "I won't lie, you're scaring me-"

"Enlightenment can be an entirely horrifying journey. Knowing our souls at a depth others might only see as aspirational...It is scary," he squeezes my hands and my palms are sweating but he doesn't let go, instead  lowering himself to whisper in my ear "but are you frightened more of the depth of knowledge you've acquired, in your short time here?... Or how much you've enjoyed yourself doing so? After all," he continues, "good girls aren't supposed to."

"Aren't supposed to...?"

He pushes his cardigan off my shoulders, letting it fall onto the desk behind me. He then tugs down the zipper on the side of my skirt that isnt my skirt and it slips off my hips, crumpling at my feet. He pushes the fabric of the sweater over my breasts, exposing me further, running a thumb lightly over one nipple, and I wince at the sensitivity of my own body, taking my lower lip between my teeth.

"Aren't supposed to let me do that. But you do. And good girls, (y/n)," he reaches his opposite hand between my legs, feeling how slick I've become over the course of his lecture "don't get wet in dangerous situations... with strange men..." He runs his fingers along my vulva, pressing up gently as he scans my flushed face for a reaction, which he gets easily, as my body responds before I can, bucking against his hand desperately. His fingers dip into me a few times and I moan, breath ragged as I melt for him.

"I-" I am defenseless. I know it and so does he. Mr. Reed knows I'll take anything he gives, give him anything he wants, that I'm addicted to the lightest touch of his hand or gentle word from his lips.

"You, (y/n), are not a good girl. They don't want it, need it, the way you do. Barnes would never behave for me the way you have..." He mutters, bringing his two fingers from one set of lips to the other and my core is tense with anticipation. I don't question him, though I want to. Barnes..?

"Open." I do. Mr. Reed watches my eyes and he doesn't need to tell me to suck because I am a good girl, and my face burns with white-hot shame as I reach for his already half-hardened cock, ready to prove it to him.

I squeeze his shaft gently and it twitches in my hand, stiffening for me as if on command. He takes his fingers from my mouth and watches me play with it through the thin pajama pants, intrigued. "Go on then."

That's all the permission I need and I sink to my knees, taking his boxers and pajama pants down with me as I watch his cock spring forward, throbbing.

I wrap a hand around it, looking up at Mr. Reed as I slowly stroke. I watch open-mouthed as a bead of precum dribbles from his tip. Snapping out of my trance, I lick the underside of his length from base to tip before taking him into my mouth as far back as I can, bobbing my head over him slowly

"Ohhh..." he groans "You are dirty, (y/n). One orgasm and you're on your knees, doing anything for more... you'll get it too..." his hands find my hair again and he thrusts himself deeper into my throat, tears immediately welling in my eyes and cascading down my cheeks as I gag on him "Mmmh, you'll get over that gag reflex eventually," he grabs a fistful of my hair and yanks me painfully upwards, spinning me around by the shoulders and bending me over the desk "but today is simply *not* that day, I'm afraid..."

He's inside me instantly, ramming forcefully against my cervix as he stretches me out again. I feel myself clench a couple times around him and he slows his pace, making me groan in annoyance as much as pleasure.

"Please, Mr. Reed," I whimper

"Not... yet..." he murmurs, affixing his hands to the front of my hips as he resumes his agonizing strokes.

"Mister Reed I can't-" I moan

"I said, Not. Yet." He gives a slow, hard thrust with each word and it's all I can do not to push back onto him. As the rhythm of his hips builds I feel an internal coil prime itself to snap, and right as Mr. Reed's fingers find my clit, it does.

"Ohh my gohddd, Mister Reeeed!!"

I see white as my body pulses around him, coming entirely undone in hot, flowing waves as I convulse, glazing his length.

He keeps fucking me, forcing soft, raspy moans from my lips.

"Whose are you?" He commands, a hand wrapping around my throat as he pistons into me, his grip firm.

"Yours!" I whine.

"And to whose. Fucking. Creed. Do you devote yourself? Quickly..."

"Yours Mister Reed! I take no others before you! Just you, only you..." the words fall from my mouth as a distressed whimper before I can process their meaning and I gasp as I feel him fill me with thick, hot ropes of semen.

He groans as he comes inside me, slowing pace gradually before pulling out.

He grabs the discarded skirt from the floor and cleans himself off with it, then holds it between my legs as my tender, limp body recovers. He waits a few seconds, tugging his pants and boxers back up his legs, then walks to the purple door with the skirt in hand, tossing it into whatever room waits beyond.

"Only. Me. Hm?" He chortles under his breath. "Only you Mister Reed!" He mocks in an exaggerated American accent, circling the desk and turning me over, scooping his arms under my legs and torso to lay me across it longways. He tugs the sweater he'd dressed me in the rest of the way off my body so I'm laid out bare before him, still attempting to catch my breath. "I take it youre not a practicioner of idolatry then. " He chuckles.

"Only... you...I promise...just you Mr. Reed." I breathe, opening my eyes, my gaze focused on the ceiling.

He hums, smirking down at me. I feel him run a finger down my torso.

"Gorgeous little zealot, and so easily converted... begs a question, did you ever really believe those things you preached to me?"

"Mostly?" I cringe at the admission, exhaling deeply.

"Mostly. From my understanding this is the typical experience of Catholicism, yes? You... grow up, being hammered over the head with flawed logic, you stop believing about halfway through middle school, feeling like a complete fraud at your confirmation into the faith, and some years later, just the way R.E.M. describes it, you lose your religion either to one that makes sense, or to one that roams so far from your parents' ideals that you feel like a rebellious teen in your twenties, having cracked the code. Hm? Sound correct?"

I feel understood, yet ashamed as his words sink in. "Y-yes, Mr. Reed, I'd say that's accurate.." I mumble.

His hands are warm as he pulls me up into a seated position on the desk, pressing a soft kiss into my forehead before letting his chin rest gently on top of my head. "It's so hard to be misunderstood the way you are, (y/n)," he mutters, arms wrapping around my shoulders, holding me tight against his chest "the way we have been..." Mr. Reed rubs gentle circles into my back, soothing me further, and I let my hands rest on his back, keeping him there. He goes on;

"But that's all over now, now that you've found the only true faith, my singular infallible doctrine. You do trust in my control of you, don't you, (y/n)?" He withdraws slightly, scanning my face.

A beat.

"Yes, Mr. Reed. I entrust myself to you fully. I know you'll guide me righteously,-"

"But you hesitated. I allowed you my blessing, my sacrament. I placed my seed within you, allowing our souls to entwine, and you hesitate when I ask you to verbally acknowledge your trust in me as your singular deity?"

"I'm just a little bit fatigued, from the-" I breathe, confused

"Oh, (y/n)... tsk... and you were doing so well..." a pitied expression colors his features as he stares down at me, taking a step back.

"Wait, wait, what do you me-"

"That just won't do, I'm afraid-"

I watch his arm hack an invisible line through the air and my ability to breathe is instantly diminished. My hands rush to my neck, and only when I feel a warm gush come forth does it dawn on me that he's holding a box cutter, with which he has just slit my throat open in one fluid swipe.

"Mister Reed-" I wheeze, barely a whisper "why?"

"Faith must be unwavering. There is no room here for hesitance. For ambivalence. For selfishness."

I choke out sputtering breaths in a desperate attempt to prolong my conciousness, but the edges of my vision start to tint in spite of my efforts. Tears run hot down my face as I silently plead with him, but Mr. Reed resumes his rant unaffected;

"Too innocent to prophecise, and setting you free, well that would never work... but don't worry dear, sweet angel. It's really not you... its me. I require a perfect convert with true, unwavering belief in my principles to aid in execution of these experiments...it is sad though, we really could've been something, mm?" He looks me over affectionately, even now, as fresh blood pours ceaselessly from my wound down my chest, torso, and thighs.

I cough, tipping forward some and watch blood spatter his white cotton shirt. "Please-" I croak weakly, reaching for him. He steps back further, brows raised.

"If it's meant to be, (y/n), you'll resurrect for me, certain of your faith. And if not, well," he gives me an awkward grimace, "I bid you adieu then, and wish you comfort in the fact that you were of great use to me in your... " he checks his watch "Eight hours here." A fond smile.

I fall forward off the desk and onto the carpet, my head bouncing against the floor with an excruciating thud. I watch Mr. Reed take a seat in one of the pews as he watches me spasm in shock and struggle to breathe through a series of garbled croaks, gasps, and wheezes, stifled by the flow of my own blood coating my larynx.

My mouth opens and closes a few times, hands still weakly striving to stem the steady gush from my lacerated neck, but nothing comes out as my body goes rigid in shock, my eyes lose sight, and I lose conciousness for the last time.

There is no white light. There is no chorus of angels.

Only a profound darkness, and once I find myself wrapped in its undertoe, I've drowned completely.

[janewayintersection]

the amount of people who are like "omg i ditched kaidan for garrus after he was mean to me on horizon!!" baffle me. shit on bioware's writing for making shep work with cerberus all you want, but kaidan calling shep out on this and not joining them is NOT the issue. in fact, him reacting like this is why i love him??

he specifically states he trusts shep, just not cerberus. which is the only rational response in that whole entire goddamn game!! like?? you spend all of me1 stopping cerberus operations. they kill several alliance soldiers and admiral kahoku, try to make a rachni army -- they are WELL known for cloning and ais... miranda even outright states she wanted to plant shep with a control chip. there is literally zero reason for kaidan to believe the shep in front of him isn't some cerberus sleeper agent. or an ai. or indoctrinated. or being manipulated (THIS ONE IS CANON BTW). even if he trusts shepard, he doesn't trust cerberus not to pull any of this. quite frankly, i'm baffled more companions don't have this exact, entirely justified concern.

loyalty is important, but blind loyalty is dangerous.

honestly, the crew in me2 is lucky that the illusive man was so weirdly and uncharacteristically insistent on shepard remaining untouched. things could have gotten very bad otherwise.

being best friends with someone, or more notably, being in love with someone, isn't the end all be all magic potion in this world. being in love with someone doesn't mean you should blindly trust their actions. if my significant other joined a terrorist group, you can bet my ass i wouldn't join them! sorry! if anything, it's healthy that kaidan has his own sense of morals and priorities he follows over shepard. he's his OWN person, love shouldn't be something that makes you suddenly give up who you are and what you believe in.

not to mention kaidan is entirely out of the loop for the whole game. his intel states that cerberus is behind the abductions (the horizon incident is partially a result of cerberus' fiddling btw), and that shep has been alive and never even reached out to anyone. he doesn't have the information we the players have. he doesn't know that the illusive man insisted on no control chip. he doesn't know about the lazarus project or its specifics.

and as for the "cheating" discourse if you romance someone new in me2, i do personally believe shep getting with one of the me2 love interests is cheating on their me1 love interest. to shep, they skipped those two years. they wake up as they did during the me2 prologue. no time has passed. and then they immediately get with someone else after one (1) argument with their love interest over them, may i remind you, joining a terrorist group. even if you don't think it's "technically" cheating, it's at the very least pretty trashy and flakey.

if anything, i'm gonna say it! kaidan is more forgiving than i'd be! the fact that he even sends an email saying he still cares and that they can see what happens after this is all resolved is WAY more than i would have done. the fact that kaidan will find out shep got with someone else, and STILL be willing to give shep a chance is like. man. it's saying a lot. i am just saying.

imagine losing someone. you see them literally die as your ship explodes and they burn up in the nearby planet's atmosphere. you grieve. you put yourself into your work. then suddenly, two years, later. they pop back up again. ALIVE. and with a terrorist group. and basically tell you the equivalent of "just trust me bro" despite the fact that while you trust them, you don't trust the terrorist group. so you're like hey, what the fuck. why are you with a terrorist group. and they're like i'm not with them, we just have common goals. and you're like. i'm gonna say it again. i trust you, not the terrorist group. okay?? i can't join you for this reason. please be careful out there, seriously.

and then they immediately jump into the pants of that one guy you knew back on a mission from two years ago.

what would you do?? would you not feel hurt? betrayed? upset? confused?? i'm sorry, i'm completely on kaidan's side. i'd go as far to say that he's far more understanding than he should be in me2.

me3 is all about regaining that complete and undying trust back, and that cerberus didn't fuck around w shep. or that being with cerberus didn't change them. his "loyalty" quest is just visiting him in the hospital and showing him shepard still cares. that they're still the same. that cerberus truly didn't alter them. that there was more going on. that shepard was forced to work with cerberus out of complete necessity and only did what they thought was right. and i think that's neat!!!!

[robininthelabyrinth]

Descent - ao3

Pairing: Lan Qiren/Wen Ruohan Summary:

Lan Qiren was old. Lan Qiren was tired.

------------

Lan Qiren was old.

Lan Qiren had pain in his body that would never leave him. Lan Qiren had pain in his heart that grew worse by the day. Lan Qiren had one nephew in seclusion, still, and one who did not speak with him, preferring the company of his husband over everyone else in their sect – over everyone else, period. His obsession seemingly permitted little closeness to any of his blood kin, no cousins, no nephews, nothing; even the juniors who were no longer juniors were closer to Wei Wuxian than Lan Wangji, for all that they still idolized him. Lan Qiren had spent his entire life being his sect’s acting leader and exactly none of it enjoying it.

Lan Qiren was old. Lan Qiren was tired.

Lan Qiren was too tired to teach any longer.

Lan Qiren was too tired to live any longer.

Lan Qiren closed his eyes every evening and woke up every morning without fail.

Lan Qiren did not understand why.

He was old – too old, really. His cultivation was good, but nothing particularly special, and yet he kept on going, and going, and going, long past the point of reason. His peers in the other Great Sects had all died unnatural deaths, but at the rate he was going, he was going to outlive all of his peers, period.

And when they were all gone, he might keep it up, and outlive his juniors, too.

Lan Qiren was tired.

Lan Qiren was full of regret.

Lan Qiren went to sleep as he always did, and then he opened his eyes the way he always did –

But everything was different.

His body, which had ached ever since his torture at the burning of the Cloud Recesses, did not hurt.

His surroundings, which had been ever so subtly but distinctly wrong since the Cloud Recesses had been rebuilt in ways that tried but failed to match his memories, had resumed the appearance they had had in the first half of his life.

His nephews…

His nephews were still young.

Teenagers, though he could not tell on sight exactly how old; it had been too long. They pretended to be so serious, particularly Lan Wangji, but compared to their adult selves, they seemed in Lan Qiren’s eyes to be so very light. So unburdened.

He was in the past.

The Cloud Recesses had not yet burned. Lan Xichen had not yet based his emotional stability on the goodness of a young man he met while on the run. Lan Wangji had not yet loved and lost – or at least he had not yet lost, since it was entirely possible that Wei Wuxian had already come and gone and taken Lan Wangji’s heart with him while he was at it.

Lan Qiren was in the past.

Lan Qiren did not know how it had happened, but his every sense confirmed that it was so.

Lan Qiren had the chance to change everything.

He only needed to strain his memory and dig up everything he could about the Sunshot Campaign. He only needed to figure out what parts of the past to change and what parts to keep – what tragedies he could prevent, and which ones he couldn’t, and which ones had to be tolerated because to go another way would lead only to something worse. The burning of the Cloud Recesses, his brother’s death, Lan Xichen’s terrible flight and subsequent fateful meeting with Meng Yao, Lan Wangji’s broken leg and the indoctrination camp, the destruction of the Jiang sect, Wei Wuxian as the Yiling Patriarch, Meng Yao as spy…all that tragedy, all that sorrow, and every piece of it potentially inextricably connected to some other potentially invaluable piece, without which life might not be worth living.

Lan Qiren…

Lan Qiren was tired.

He was tired, and he was old.

He had to change things. That much was unquestionable.

But he did not have to change them like that.

“Inform the elders that I am going on a short trip,” he told one of the disciples with a no-longer-familiar face that passed by his door, doing his best not to guess whether this was one of the ones that died in the burning or in the war or thereafter. “I will be departing immediately. I do not require company.”

“Yes, Teacher Lan,” the disciple said respectfully. “I will tell them at once. Do you want me to summon your nephews so that you can bid them farewell?”

Had Lan Qiren done that, once upon a time, so long ago, and done it often enough that this disciple would know to ask about it? Had his nephews appreciated it when he did, or at least tolerated it, or had they treated his efforts to include them in his life as a burden, the way he knew they would in the future?

He could no longer remember.

“No,” Lan Qiren said. “It is a short trip. I will not disturb them.”

The disciple saluted.

Lan Qiren left.

He flew in the general direction of Qinghe for a while, no longer willing to blindly assume that his orders would be obeyed and that he was not being followed. When he had confirmed he was truly alone, perhaps because of how quickly he had departed, he turned his sword to Qishan instead, and went to the Nightless City.

“I do not have an appointment or an invitation,” he said to the guard that waited outside the gate. “But I wish to speak with Sect Leader Wen regardless.”

The door guard’s expression suggested that this was a very foolish thing to want.

Lan Qiren did not disagree, familiar as he was with Wen Ruohan’s current state of mind – to be more specific, his increasing lack of sanity and equally increasing ambition – but he did not falter or change his request. He did not leave.

He waited.

Even as the time dragged on and on, he did not mind the insult, and he did not lose his temper.

He waited.

In time, he was allowed in, and shown to the receiving hall.

Wen Ruohan was sitting on the Wen sect’s main seat when he arrived. There were no servants or guards in the hall, but then, none were needed to make his appearance more intimidating: just him, the most powerful cultivator of their age, and him alone, looming above all the rest.

It was enough.

It was more than enough.

In Lan Qiren’s entire life, he had never known anyone who could match Wen Ruohan in all his might and glory. Even Wei Wuxian in the height of his glory, with all his demonic cultivation, had only been able to contend with the Wen armies, rather than the man himself; Wen Ruohan himself had remained within the Nightless City, easily repelling them all, even when they had all tried to attack him all together at once.  

In the end, he had only fallen to a strike from within.

“Sect Leader Lan,” Wen Ruohan said. His voice was rich and slow, thick with menace and unspoken threat. “And without any advance notice, too…What an unexpected surprise.”

Lan Qiren saluted politely, but did not apologize.

“What emergency brings you here?”

Here of all places, Wen Ruohan meant. His gaze was as steady as a snake about to strike its prey.

“No emergency,” Lan Qiren said steadily. “A question.”

“A question?” Wen Ruohan didn’t so much as blink. “How interesting. One that only I can answer, I suppose. By all means, then, go on, tell me: what is your question?”

Lan Qiren looked up at him, meeting those blazing red eyes with his own steady, unshaken gaze.

“What will it take?” he asked.

Wen Ruohan arched his eyebrows. He seemed unmoved, even bored, as if he had anticipated all the potential paths this conversation could take and found them all equally dull. “What do you mean? What will it take – what will what take?”

“What will it take,” Lan Qiren said patiently, “for you to stop?”

Wen Ruohan frowned.

Apparently he hadn’t anticipated everything.

Strange. To Lan Qiren’s mind, it was all perfectly logical.

“I do not want to burn,” Lan Qiren said, and Wen Ruohan’s eyes abruptly narrowed. “I do not want to be tortured, to lose my home, or for my family to suffer unimaginably. I have come here to ask you how I can prevent that.”

Wen Ruohan was silent for a long while.

“Now that is indeed a question,” he finally said. He seemed thoughtful. “Doesn’t your sect have a rule against making assumptions?”

“It is not an assumption,” Lan Qiren said. He had forgotten much about the past, but he would never forget the smell of smoke, the crackling blaze, the screams. Nor would he forget upon whose orders it had been that it had happened at all. “It will happen. I do not know if you have already drawn up the plans or if that is still to come, but if we continue along our present path, it will happen. You will send your army to burn the Cloud Recesses as a demonstration of your power and as warning to all the Great Sects, telling us to bow before you or face the consequences.”

Wen Ruohan did not deny it. Perhaps the plans really were already in place.

“I do not want to burn,” Lan Qiren said once more. “Tell me what I must do to prevent it, and I will.”

Wen Ruohan seemed to be waiting for him to continue, but Lan Qiren did not. He had no more to say.

“What, is that all?” Wen Ruohan finally asked. The faint traces of surprise on his face made him seem oddly human, in a way he had not been earlier. A sign of hope, perhaps, though maybe that was just Lan Qiren deceiving himself; he had grown far too good at that. “No conditions? No restrictions? ‘Tell me what I must do, as long as it’s not’…?”

Lan Qiren shook his head. He had come with no conditions.

“What if I asked you to surrender your sect to me?”

“I am only acting Sect Leader, and lack the authority to bind my sect,” Lan Qiren said promptly. He’d expected the question. “But I can submit a proposal to the elders asking them to agree to it and put forward all my strength to argue for it, if that is what you wish.”

“What if I asked you to murder someone for me?”

“I am a scholar, not an assassin,” Lan Qiren said. “But I have a sword, and I can use it if I must.”

Wen Ruohan’s gaze was thoughtful, and heavy.

“What if,” he said slowly, “I asked you to give yourself to me?”

Lan Qiren frowned – not in refusal, but in confusion. He did not understand.

“Is that not what I am already doing?” he asked, a little hesitantly. “I am here, asking for you to instruct me. I have made no conditions, imposed no restrictions, set in place no limits. If you ask me to violate my principles and my family’s rules, I will do so, though it breaks my heart. If you ask me to give up my sect’s freedom and autonomy, I will do so to the best of my ability, though I cannot promise to succeed. All I ask in return is that you not harm my family or act in a way that brings harm to them. What part of myself have I not already submitted to you? Or is it my life that you want..? If you want it, you may have it, freely offered.”

“I do not want your death, if that is what you mean,” Wen Ruohan said. “But I admit to having unexpectedly developed some interest in your life. Come here.”

Lan Qiren approached the seat – the throne, if he were being honest. Wen Ruohan saw himself as the ruler of the cultivation world, and the Nightless City reflected that belief. In his past life, Lan Qiren had visited this place a number of times before it had finally fallen, and he had never been permitted to approach as he did now; Wen Ruohan was too paranoid for that.

Perhaps Wen Ruohan no longer considered him a threat.

He was right not to.

Lan Qiren approached, then stopped at a respectful distance, only a few large strides away.

“Closer.”

Lan Qiren came closer, stopping only a small step or two away.

“Closer.”

Lan Qiren came to within arm’s length, until he was very nearly standing right before Wen Ruohan, their knees very nearly brushing against each other.

“Kneel.”

Lan Qiren knelt. He was too close to the other man to go into a full kowtow, as he knew Wen Ruohan preferred his servants and disciples to do, so he did not do so.

“Look at me.”

Lan Qiren looked up and met Wen Ruohan’s eyes.

“You never answered my question,” Wen Ruohan said, and Lan Qiren frowned. “If I agree to ensure that your sect is unharmed, your family does not suffer, your home does not burn…will you give yourself to me?”

“Yes,” Lan Qiren said. He still did not understand what exactly Wen Ruohan wanted, but that was immaterial, as long as his goal was obtained – as it seemed, impossibly, that it would be. “I will.”

“Good,” Wen Ruohan said. “Then we are agreed.”

And then he kissed him.

[skellygutzxx]

ocean blue, what have i done to you?

summary: a list of headcanons in which you are bishop kallamars (adopted) child, first meeting, separation, reunited.

cw: RELIGIOUS/CULTISH THEMES (this is cult of the lamb after all,,,,), written with a gn!reader intended, lowercase intended, mentions of fighting, reader ends up as a caretaker later on in the hc, reader is kind of selectively mute, blood mention, execution of the lambs mentioned, SPOILERS FOR CULT OF THE LAMB

wc: 1004

when you were a young infant, you had no clue as to what the reality of the world was like.

until you did.

surrounded by the destroyed remains of your town, you curled into a ball and sobbed your little toddler eyes out

until you felt the cold arms wrap around your small body, and you curled into the robes of a cultist, a bishop.

from there on out, bishop kallamar was your father. he taught you the ways of the Old Faith.

it was a content life for you, you were right by him for anything you could be there for (along with his witness and his high priests...), like rituals, sermons...

you were showered in gifts and gave to his people, you spread his word, you were devoted to your father

he was happy. you were happy

until narinders betrayal changed it all.

bishop kallamar became paranoid, more anxious. from a generous and mighty god to a cowardly one in what felt like a mere snap of fingers.

you still remember him stumbling into his temple, ears ripped from his body, his blood dripping onto the mosaic floors of his temple

how scared you felt in that moment. how it felt as if the world flipped itself over in a matter of moments.

you were terrified of what this meant for the future.

your father began to distance himself from everyone, you being no exception.

he believed anyone, everyone was plotting against him! you tried to get close with your father again and again, only to end up futile

dissenters became more common within all of the cults, this only made his paranoia worse, you tried your hardest to handle it.

then came the declarations.

every lamb in the realm of the Old Faith to be executed

you watched with horror as you saw people, children, slaughtered at the hands of your family, your father.

you kept your mouth shut, any defiance you had remained on the tip of your tongue like a fool.

you didn't want to disappoint.

in the ocean of grief you felt for the past, you announced your own isolation, and that was the last the people heard or saw of you.

when the final execution came around to you and the news that the red crown had a new bearer, you finally understood it was the beginning of the end.

“the lamb”, as the realm had begun to call them, held his sword to your throat. your eyes held a glint to them, one of exhaustion and one of sadness, but at the same time, one of acceptance.

“you and i both know i will not be the one to fall to your blade tonight,” you began. the lamb kept his blade pointed to your throat, but you notice his eyes visibly soften. “that who you seek is down the hall.”

the lamb lowers his blade, you release a breath you didn’t know you held. “why..? why do you tell me where he awaits, knowing he will fall to my blade?” the lamb demands. you shift your weight onto your foot, your jewelry of gold, gems, pearls, and shells chiming along with your robes. 

“my fath-ahem, bishop kallamar, the moment he exiled the second youngest of his siblings to the realm of death, he lost himself to his fears and his crown. I only hope you will cleanse him and the rest of anchordeep…” your heart ached for the past, a return to normalcy, a return that could never happen.

“please, lamb, bring him to his senses!”

another thing led to you being indoctrinated into the lambs cult.

they let you keep your jewelry, you're grateful.

a few former people of anchordeep ask you questions about your absence from bishop kallamar’s cult. you inform them of your absence and they inform of what happened that did or didnt reach your ears during your isolation period.

through your adjustment period you noticed an egg in a nest, you walked up to it, inspecting it.

“its parents passed away a few weeks ago,” the lamb's voice protrudes. you visibly jump. 

it hits you, you were like the egg once.

alone.

regardless, you're around it more often, the lamb creates a satchel for you to carry around the egg in, you try to take care of it.

lamb begins crusades to “set the bishops free.” and you're nervous.

its a pattern, the witness, then their respective bishop.

witness astaroth is indoctrinated, you wait on bated breath for your father.

“what is this? shamura, heket? leshy? i feel…bleugh.”

you're speaking with witness astaroth, the egg in its satchel close to your chest. you look over and witness astaroth turns around, your eyes widened. You're not sure why you're shocked, you knew it was coming.

the lamb places your father in the healing bay, night falls. you dont go to bed and head to the healing bay. heket and leshy seem to have a similar idea to you. the leaves rustle and heket and leshy snap their heads around, kallamar follows a few seconds later. he lets out a little gasp. nervously, you walk in.

“my darling child…” he whispers, tears welling in his eyes as you walk in. you end up standing next to heket, you feel her eyes bore into your skull. you elicited to ignore it, putting a hand on his shoulder, he places his own on top of it, tracing your knuckles with a cold, ringed thumb. you hug him and weep.

when the hug is broken off, you wipe your tears and kallamar notices the egg, he gives you a quizzical eyebrow raise. he doesn't have eyebrows!

“......not….theirs…..” heket rasps, you give her a grateful look, she looks away.

“yeah! but they've been all over the egg since before i've been here!” leshy chimes in, albeit a little too loud for your liking and your face heats up in embarrassment.

you realize this is the start of something new.

by @skellygutzxx !! do not repost or translate !!

[sophieinwonderland]

An Endogenic Response to a Message Towards Endogenic Systems

Trigger Warning: Death Threats, Harassment, Cyberbullying, Ableism, Slurs, Hate Groups

@loafofcatbread

Aren't you one of the moderators of Aspen's server? You are, right?

You all specifically came onto this website to spread hate. Aspen said she wants to normalize cyberbullying endogenic systems. And you're using our tags to post hateful messages to our community because you want to hurt us. That's your intent in being here. Causing pain and suffering to other people for existing.

Why deny it and try to play victim?

Amazing how you accuse us of sending slurs and death threats while Aspen is calling us "Schizo." Specifically while bragging about using it as a slur.

And... you know we can see your reblogs, right Loaf???

And for death threats... we can also see YOUR LIKES!

Yes! We see you, Loaf! Just like we see Aspen!

We see your hypocrisy. We see your bullying. And we aren't going to tolerate it.

I don't know if any endogenic systems have been sending death threats or slurs in response to you all invading our spaces with the intent of hurting and bullying us. I haven't seen this happening, and I would strongly discourage anyone from stooping to your level.

But I DO know what you all have been doing.

You and your disgusting pals aren't allowed to play victim here! Sorry.

And for your talk of misinformation, I've yet to see anything even resembling a source for the claims your side have made. Anti-endos love to assert thing. They like to say whatever nonsense they can come up with as if it's a fact and then expect people just accept it.

But they can't cite in professionals who can back them up because none exist.

And when pro-endos respond with sources, the modus operandi of you all have been to throw slurs and ad hominems as Aspen did when she was sent a link to my post debunking her video.

Maybe you think you're educated because you got all your information of plurality from a popular Tiktoker with an inflated ego and no actual background in psychology or any sources to support her claims, but that's not education. That's indoctrination.

You and your hive have been indoctrinated.

Finally, over the years, I've seen countless traumagenic systems be attacked, bullied and fakeclaimed for being pro-endo, mixed origin or presenting in ways anti-endos deem unusual. And anti-endos, by their nature, encourage fakeclaiming. They encourage invalidating systems. And this has increased stigma of traumagenic systems, normalizing hate against systems of all types.

You are NOT an ally to traumagenic systems.

You're an ally to a hate group.

And it's so sad that you can't even see it...

[too-many-rooks]

an au where Taverner agrees to giving River up to Frank would be crazy because like... would mi-5 even hope river would feed them back info? or would it be like just getting rid of a loose end like Taverner wanted to do since the training exercise? it's such a wild train of thought I love it

One of the reasons I’m so obsessed with Frank is all the myriad ways that he could totally mess River up, and why the idea of Taverner agreeing to Frank’s pitch, or maybe part of his blackmail failsafe demands being to let him nab him River is so fun, is that there’s just so many potential takes on it, and they’re all super interesting! Bc, yeah, yes all of these! Would there be a hope/expectation from River to be feeding information back, even after he’s essentially been sold and burned by them, and presumably growing increasingly indoctrinated and under Frank’s control? Mi5 have apparently been using Frank to do their dirt work for years, so is River joining the family assassin business/cult presented as just like… a wild secondment from Slough House?

Would Diana be tempted to just get rid of the problem/ constant thorn in her side that is River Cartwright? @sloughhousestaircase made the really interesting point of Diana being like ‘where were you x months ago when I needed to ditch this kid?’ Bc yeah, if Frank had approached her before River was sent to Slough House, and came under the protection of Lamb, and Diana still trying to figure out how to get rid of him, would she have been more tempted? Would she be able to pitch it to a much less disillusioned and more naive River as an undercover operation - but would she be able to mantain any level of control over him once he’s with Frank, and realising who he is, and how they’re connected?

Me and @countessrivers, who are very much driving the ‘River being part of his dads assassin cult’ train, have pitched each other a bunch of different ideas for how a Diana trading River scenario would go down, which a range across a whole spectrum of au’s from like, post s3 developing werewolf River needing to be trained and controlled (to be used as an asset by Diana,) and Frank coming in as like the werewolf specialist, (and then obviously indoctrinating his son and bringing him back to the werewolf pack at Les Arbres.)

Or more closely following on canon, Frank’s promise in the books that they’ll ‘talk soon’, maybe Frank finally being able to have a drink with his son once he’s finally out of extensive debriefing/medical treatment for Thames water in the lungs, which he can achieve by breaking into River’s flat and waiting for him and drugging his glass to knock him out, and making it easier to take his son home without any fuss.

There’s just, so many ways Frank could absolutely fuck up River’s life. And I think that’s beautiful.

[contemplatingoutlander]

THOM HARTMANN: Science Explains Why Republicans Can’t Accept Trump’s Guilt (Sept. 12, 2023)

Scientists discovered a fascinating reason why Republicans can’t accept criticism of Donald Trump. Thom explains.

In the above video, Thom Hartmann refers to a Raw Story column by cognitive neuroscientist Bobby Azarian, PhD (shown below):

Here are some excerpts from Azarian's column:

In 2009, a study published in PLOS ONE challenged our understanding of belief systems. Researchers placed participants into the confines of an fMRI scanner and presented them with a mixture of factual and abstract statements. The results were illuminating. Disbelief, it turns out, is cognitively demanding. It requires more mental effort than simply accepting a statement as true. From an evolutionary perspective, this preference for easy belief makes sense; a perpetually skeptical individual questioning every piece of information would struggle to adapt in a fast-paced world. What does all this have to do with Trump supporters? Well, it’s far less cognitively demanding for them to believe anything their leader tells them. Any challenge to what Trump tells them is true takes mental work. This means there is a psychological incentive for Trump loyalists to maintain their loyalty. (I wrote about this phenomenon in a slightly different context in the Daily Beast article "Religious Fundamentalism: A Side Effect of Lazy Brains?") Molding of belief: neuroplasticity at play Now, let's consider the unique predicament faced by individuals who staunchly support Trump and want him to again become president. From the moment Trump began his political career and his social engineering career, his supporters have been exposed to narratives — Trump doesn't lie, Democrats are communists, the media is an enemy of the people — that emphasize loyalty and trust in their political idol. These narratives often steer away from critical examination and instead encourage blind faith. When coupled with the brain's inherent tendency to accept rather than question, it creates an ideal environment for unwavering allegiance. No matter that Trump, time and again, has been revealed to be a serial liar, habitually misrepresenting matters of great consequence, from elections to economics to public health. For example, in the Psychology Today article "Why Evangelicals are Wired to Believe Trump’s Falsehoods," I explain that the children of Christian fundamentalists typically begin to suppress critical thinking at an early age. This is required if one is to accept Biblical stories as literal truth, rather than metaphors for how to live life practically and with purpose. Attributing natural occurrences to mystical causes discourages youth from seeking evidence to back their beliefs. Consequently, the brain structures that support critical thinking and logical reasoning don't fully mature. This paves the way for heightened vulnerability to deceit and manipulative narratives, especially from cunning political figures. Such increased suggestibility arises from a mix of the brain's propensity to accept unverified claims and intense indoctrination. Given the brain's neuroplastic nature, which allows it to shape according to experiences, some religious followers are more predisposed to accept improbable assertions. In other words, our brains are remarkably adaptable and continuously evolving landscapes. For ardent Trump supporters, residing in an environment that prioritizes faith over empirical evidence can reshape the neural circuits within their brains. [color emphasis added]

[edited]

[ossifer]

wrt baru my hottest take is that i do not personally read her as being low empathy and instead interpret her tendency to model other people + herself as rational actors & pragmatism throughout the traitor as stemming from her scholarship courtesy of falcrest & farrier, and how her earliest motivation is to 'outlaw the deaths of fathers' and rewrite the doctrines. a key part of the traitor is that she abstracts the people of aurdwynn prior to her various encounters with tain hu and treats the province with an only-partially affected level of emotional indifference, and to me this reflects how her focus begins and ends with taranoke initially: the subversion of the masquerade is an incidental detail to her infiltrating them; the horror of the policies she hasn't witnessed, the subjugation of the people she holds no loyalties to, elude her nascent perspective and thus she is unbeholden to them for a while (“I am an accountant. Heredity is not my concern”)

this is all to say that i do not think her obstensive low empathy is a matter of any particular tendencies but rather a byproduct of the fact she has unwittingly adopted the attitudes of an imperial technocrat in a foreign land, albeit with an added detached disdain due to her disquiet with falcrest: she internally characterises herself as seeking to rewrite its doctrines, loosen its hold on taranoke, but not to abolish it & this means that she—in her privileged position within aurdwynn—is content to let the specificities of it fall to her blind side. her gaze remains turned to taranoke and thus she is able to treat aurdwynn as an abstracted dilemma, its people as either unagentive or as following a linear path in pursuit of their goals; baru has fallen prey to thinking herself as an accountant, adopts falcresti modes of thinking so long as they suit her goals, and walks the path of complicity.

this changes over time, of course, and as time goes on we see these patterns of thinking break down as she draws parallels between aurdwynn and taranoke, as she rebels and cannot continue benefitting from the comforts of her imperial office, as she strays from accountant to revolutionary. she fulfills the role of traitor but it comes at a great personal cost that weighs on her: she trades the dukes as currency, buys her ascension, but she accrues an emotional debt that while not in of itself incompatible with her having low empathy does involve a large degree of guilt that i personally think showcases how imperial thought & farrier's process both rely on momentum. baru was conditioned to repress herself and to act with decision & directness because those are the conditions integral to maintaining her detachment: when she loses momentum, collides with tain hu, it comes undone.

what i find fascinating about her perspective is that while she has a vested interest in falcrest's demise, the process of arriving at that as the logical conclusion is one that takes time and requires her to see her illusions of its merits shattered: despite understanding it as an oppressor, she initially conceptualises its power as a neutral thing, something to be coveted and stolen away from it, rather than existing due to its exploitative nature. but that flawed conceptualisation stems from a partial perspective that is informed heavily by the education she received. i do not think that baru's perspective is a 1:1 with that of a citizen within the imperial core by any means but i do think she is a poignant illustration of how one's thought is inevitably informed by the predominant hegemony & the means by which imperialism indoctrinates: falcrest extensively employs various forms of social coercion rather than open force and baru's obstensive low empathy is to me a key illustration of that in practice

i personally think that baru has an excess of empathy, enough that it proves narratively significant at several points, but the reason it comes across as low is because her perspective is one that was engineered to suppress it. the farrier process is a more overt and expedited way to convey what happens when your perspective is informed by the thought of those who live comfortably off the dividends of the very same systems of oppression that leave you subjugated, when the culture you were raised in is primitivised and you are taught imperial sciences that allow you to abstract the fact of your neighbours dying of plagues introduced by the arrival of your coloniser.

“I’m not doing this,” Shir said, with terrible distance. “You are. You set the terms. This is your choice, it is the shape of you, to spend people for power.”

[damnfandomproblems]

765703859798769664

I won't contest tumblr users are hypocritical as fuck, but it's actually good practice to not yell at the rooftops as soon as someone is accused of something - anything. Not just sexual assault.

Yet the people who want to hold back and wait until the dust settles get attacked because, according to tumblr, "why don't you reactively start flaming this accused person?!". A lot of the time, it's a good decision to wait. (And no, by waiting for more info, you're not implicity "siding" with anyone so let's not go there.)

A month ago, people were screaming about the new lead singer for a certain band, because she had had photos taken of her at a scientology, the same meeting in the early 2010s, and she was present at the initial hearing for someone who was eventually convicted of rape. People called her a scientologist and a rape apologist, with zero mind given to the facts: 1) there had been nothing scientology-related about her since that photo, 2) she had been born into scientology and was indoctrinated from the beginning, 3) she was in denial that her friend had raped someone, and she stated that her views changed after evidence came up, and 4) there will probably never be a way to confirm if she left the scientology cult, because if people openly say they're leaving, they simply end up disappearing or simply being subjected to so much harassment it's scary. Very few people outwardly say they've left. Was it still bad optics for the band to choose her? Yeah. But it's very questionable whether she is actually a huge demon of a person because of something we can't confirm.

So there was nuance there that practically nobody on tumblr followed. Like someone else said in the comments, it's natural to practice skepticism if people making a claim are known for other dubious claims, if you believe they have an agenda of sorts, and so on.

But skepticism and using your brain and being careful about the conclusions you draw until you have solid information? That's not bad. Ever.

I repeat: EVER.

Don't let people on here insist you need to react immediately and choose emotion, or urgency, over common sense and logic, because even if your emotional reaction is correct in this situation, if you keep fostering that and it becomes your default process, it's going to be the reason you fall for hoaxes like that "a friend has complimented you" hoax or the "zip ties on mailboxes" hoax. Learn information literacy.

Posting as a response to a previous problem.

[cconfusedkat]

"You begun my story, but I won't let you end it." 1-18

CW // Blood and sudden change of colors (for anyone w/sensitive eyes)

(Along with some information at the end)

For a little bit background:

In this case, Lamb brought Shamura back first to their cult to indoctrinate them, knowing if they brought back the other bishops, they would have a far more rougher time. So, with that, Shamura is the first bishop to be brought back to life after two millennia. Mystic Seller introduced themself before TOWW's death, as TOWW is still alive, Lamb bringing back more sacrifices for him.

The Lamb desperately wants to bring back their family, so each plea to Mystic Seller made them more infuriated, thus leaving the Mystic Seller to making three different quests for Lamb to complete to bring back on their family members, in doing them no particular order; a God Tear from The Lamb, their unbeating-ichor heart as it no longer served purpose, and lastly to bring back the bishops in follower form right to Mystic Seller. The last request had been very specific, to bring all the five bishop followers together, but the Mystic Seller never elaborated on what they'd do with the five.

For all Lamb could possibly care, they insisted, starting their first quest by bringing back the bishops followers first: the toughest task being to bring back TOWW as a follower for last, but they insist the tougher tasks are always easier to get over with. The next task after bringing back the followers would be bringing Mystic Seller their heart, then their very own God Tears from the source themself.

All of this is for a single family member from their kin. More than anything in the world, it was all worth it to see another sheep, since they haven't seen one for a millenium.

The next pages will be centered around getting Shamura back to their cult, then visiting TOWW to let him know they're beginning the indoctrination process for Shamura and plan to get the next three. TOWW believes he is stronger than Lamb, so he feels as there's no need to worry about getting captured as a follower for their cult, given the entirety of the cult had been dedicated to him anyways.

[utilitycaster]

A thought in my head I’d like your take on about Liliana (and the whole campaign). You’ve talked a lot about how this campaign is more streamlined/like a module, like Matt wanted to tell The Moon Story this campaign, and for many reasons the Hells seem to have less agency than previous parties. I’m curious if Imogen ever could’ve convinced Liliana to join them, like if Matt would’ve let it happen or he always wanted to let this moment happen. Like Imogen didn’t often get to roll persuasion? It was just a lot of trying and failing to convince her mom, whereas like in campaign 2 Essek, someone the characters didn’t even know was bad, they managed to convince him to “switch sides” without even trying. Idk just all the circular arguments with Liliana, like “I can fix him, I can steer him in a different direction, I can’t leave the children, I can’t help you” it just feels like Matt was never going to let them bring Liliana over to their side

So this is a wild personal hunch but I honestly do not know if Matt realized initially that Imogen would try to persuade her mother. Like, I will admit to having a lot of D&D instincts that are very different than Laura's because I would have absolutely have gone for the assassination and Liliana would have possibly been out of the picture long before now, presumably (and to be clear, that would have had its own consequences! Ludinus probably would have gotten someone else to broadcast the Downfall information). I wouldn't be surprised if Matt was surprised that Imogen cared this much about someone who was consistently unhelpful and had abandoned her.

But more generally I think that Essek and Liliana are just different people. Essek did not believe in a specific cause and generally thought Ludinus sucked, but would at least provide some answers. I think by the time the Mighty Nein rolled around he was already having some regrets, even if they were largely self-interested at the time, and so being treated as just a normal guy was enough to start the process of shaking him out of it. He also was intended as an interesting recurring NPC, and the party adopted him for a number of reasons.

Liliana was already fully on Ludinus's side when the story started (though, again, aware enough to know Imogen should probably stay away) and was intended as an antagonist. It makes sense the party would cross paths fewer times with her than the Mighty Nein with Essek. There was no opportunity to hang out with her socially without the fact that she was fully in this cult hanging over everyone's head; we knew she was part of the Vanguard before we met her in person. I think it's more that like, the DC to pull her away was very high! She is either indoctrinated or genuinely of her own accord believes in the cause of the Vanguard. I think if Imogen had done a better job during the initial ritual things might have been different, but once she locked into the path I think it is reasonable DM-ing not to have her so easily swayed.