#purple people eater presentation

[buntress]

[IDs in alt text]

『 🍸｡⋆⊹ 』 ❝ Purple People Eater ❞

[PT :: Purple People Eater]

Any queer person who presents their gender through the colors black & purple! An alternative name & flag for the term taro boba tea because I don't like boba!

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Req By :: No One // Self Indulgent Original Term By :: @en8y

Archive Tagging :: @radiomogai @io-archival @presentationflag-archive

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Taglist :: @genderdenied @mimiscoiningcafe @discrophy @horrgores @smilepilled

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Additional Tags :: @cocajimmycola

[deathnguts]

Coming out of the closet with such a rare ship that you all will think me crazy and delusional but Antonin dolohov is the only man who possesses enough gaudy power and sadism to properly sugar daddy for regulus black think about it

Like, Antonin is SO neat: he’s canonically a bigger sadist than most death eaters, he’s one of if not the only pureblood heir in Russia, he has truly unreachable levels of like gold chain and real furs and mansions with multiple large living spaces all with the most big and beautiful fireplaces because he lives in teh snowy russian country side and hunts the beasts in his backyard when he gets antsy type of wealth. He’s a bitch, he’s insane, he’s horrific, and oh my god he’s PERFECT.

Regulus likes to be used and desired just as much as he likes to be utterly in control and domineering, it’s a hard line to balance and usually he can’t. He has to pick a side and walk that one, longingly staring for the other no matter which one he’s on. BUT, Dolohov is so crazy and weird guaranteed he loves the chase and scuffle of catching and keeping a lover with fire in their blood just as much as he loves being bossed around by something beautiful. He’s paying thousands dollars for like three hours to get stepped on but then flip you over and choke you out, he’s wild and unpredictable and lives only for his own pleasure and never let’s go of getting what he wants and he wants the pretty black heir with the delicate blue eyes that never show him a glimmer of respect but a so bow low he surely knows where he’s dipping.

This creepy motherfucker kept track of regulus’ birthdays after he ‘bloomed to look so delectable’ and sent him lavish presents each year but never spoke to him until the literal moment he turned seventeen because he knows what he’s here for and he wants soemthing with fire not a cushy and ‘sweet’ (by pureblood courting terms) grooming and then immediate stale marriage. And you think regulus wouldn’t love that shit?? Dude, these two are made to feed only the worst parts of each other. Like I brought up the sugar daddy dynamic because even if there’s no actual money involved, that what they have. They are not dating, they are not married, god forbid they both shiver at that thought, they literally just meet up like every other weekend to do ungodly deeds to each other for 24 straight hours and then like have fancy dinners or attend pretentious parties together when Antonin feels he wants to flaunt and regulus feels he wants to be flaunted.

Regulus pulling hidden knives from silk pillowcases mid fuck to actually stab Antonin and Antonin is fucking laughing through his orgasm. Antonin only smokes cigars and regulus plucks them from his teeth whenever he wishes for a turn and Antonin grins. Antonin buys regulus sleek and expensive clothes that leave little to the imagination and then insisting he wear them when they go out so everyone can see what Antonin has like regulus is a new head of a new kill for over one of his many fireplaces. Regulus has stitches from the work Antonin does when he’s excited and he’s never without a purpled bruise again after they meet and he craves it. They both do.

They’re the couple you can’t really call toxic because they’re both using each other and both very ok with that. They’re the couple you want to judge because regulus was 17 and Antonin was 32 when they started talking but also it’s a free country and it’s legal and consensual and also they’re both on a completely even playing field money and power wise so what’s actually the harm? Antonin thinks the taboo of it all is funny and he enjoys making people uncomfortable, regulus thinks it’s annoying that everyone seems to think he’s always the victim all the time. ‘He’s bad reg he just wants your body!’ ‘What do you think I want him for, his bubbly personality?’

God I can’t even please tell me you see the vision they’ve been the ringworm in my skin for months now and I can’t be quiet anymore 😞

[beware-of-pity]

Cinnamon Girl - I

Masterlist

- Next

Harry James Potter x Reader

Crossposted on Ao3

Summary :

Only dreams can awaken consciousness. As the final battle between him and the Dark Lord draws nearer every day, Harry attends his sixth year at Hogwarts, warped by strange dreams, which he's sure someone is having a hand at. Hidden away by the shadows of the darkness in which those hands are summoned, he finds a girl not in synch with the world she dwells in. A seer, a siren, or perhaps just a girl he finds himself madly intrigued by.

Prologue: Oh, my life is changing everyday (In every possible way)

. ⚯ ͛

They say dark times require dark measures. It seems that after ‘He who must not be named’ had revealed his presence in the halls of the Ministry of Magic during the Battle of the Department of Mysteries, no one was willing to deny the obvious return of the Dark Lord, which had been the causing of much speculation after the Tri-Wizard tournament, and the much distressing death of the young Cedric Diggory.

Open war on the wizarding community had been declared, and no one could consider themselves safe anymore.

Harry had spent a long time laying his eyes upon the purple leaflet that an owl, who had made his way on the perch of his window, had delivered to him. The instructions were simple, or at least, those were the measures the Ministry of Magic believed to be sufficient enough to protect oneself against the dark forces of the Death Eaters on the loose to spread chaos upon the world Harry had known ever since he was but a boy.

To not leave the house unattended had been a challenge enough, seeing as he could not rely upon the presence of another wizard to accompany him wherever he went, especially at night when he would sit at the old, run-down food stand on the platform of the train station he had found a fondness for wandering around and riding the trains off. He had been precarious, looking behind his back all the time. To say he had become paranoid would be a little too over the top, but he surely could not find the ease he felt when at Hogwarts or any of the familiar surroundings, where he could be safe or could find a helping hand at the simple turn of a corner.

He could not advise his aunt and uncle of the precautionary ways to protect themselves were it to come down to it either, for no charm or spell they could master, seen by their lack of magic, and even if there was a way for him to know how to defend them, he wasn’t sure they would be too open to hearing him out. Their pride, especially his uncle’s, beget him to ignore Harry. He could not blame them, he supposed, the less they knew, the better, left them less exposed and more into safer hands were something to happen to them.

He shared letters with both Ron and Hermione in the weeks following the battle of the Department of Mysteries. Both of his friends tried to be there for him as much as they could, sending comforting words that would put him off any sort of ideas that may come to his mind in light of Sirius’ passing. A tragedy, it had been deemed, by people who could not come near comprehending just how much the death of one of the few people he considered close to him and which he held dear to his heart had truly impacted and affected him. He grieved him still, and he was sure he would for a very long time, even surer he was that he would never stop, for the love he held for the man called his ‘godfather’ could never go away from the cave in his chest that had been carved and reserved for Sirius.

Things had been chaotic, to say the least, as the dust ruffled by the events ending his fifth school year slowly settled back upon the shots that had caused it to move in the first place. As recommended by the leaflet, he, Ron and Hermione had agreed upon several security questions to detect if the friend they thought was presenting in front of them was truly them or a Death Eater masquerading as others by use of the Polyjuice Potion.

But unlike all the ruffled feathers filling the air, his had been a couple of quiet weeks. He had not heard from Dumbledore ever since the time he had tried to shield him from the photographers rounding him, flashing their cameras too close to his eyes, practically blinding him, and shouting questions which made his eyes ring in a way that pulled at his eardrums, quickly sending waves of pains through his temples, reaching his forehead, where the nerves under his skin probed him in pain and left him disoriented. He made for a horrid sight, with speckles of blood on his face, pale, with a twisted pain he had come to know very well burning at the skin of his chest, where his heart resided. 

His breath had begun to quicken; his lips had tightened from the lack of moisture he tried to recover by wetting his lips, but to no avail, it did nothing but dry his mouth in turn, while the hard knot on his troath continued to tighten in the chord of the flesh there.

Had it not been for the comforting presence of his headmaster’s hand which had been placed on his shoulder as he had been led away from the sworn of journalists, he wasn’t sure he could have endured the ordeal for much longer before he could begin to lose his mind.

He needed a remedy to clear his mind, so he wandered the streets of the little Surrey town of Little Whinging, where he had lived his entire life since being placed in the care of his aunt and uncle. Trains were fast, and the rush of adrenaline they gave him felt nice. It would blind him of all the thoughts his mind had been filling itself with lately, if only for a moment.

He then began to find himself unconsciously spending time sitting at one of the tables of the food stand, watching over the train from across the window, and the pretty waiter, who would cheekily smile his way whenever she found him looking at her, peering upon the latest copy of the ‘Daily Prophet’ he’d bring with him, reading it as slowly as he could as an excuse to spend more time in the establishment.

He wasn’t sure he liked her, liked her, in that way. His feelings had been all over the place, especially in the romantic department, which he found himself more than not fumbling his way into.

First, it was Cho, a kind girl which he knew would never find the love she had felt for Cedric in him, but he hoped she would see a new, mature one, born upon the shared feeling of the hardship and the loss of a person which they found a friend into. He had been mistaken, in that he realized, as had Cho, who liked him, she truly did, but the pain of the loss of her first love shadowed everything that could have blossomed between them.

Then it had been Ginny, the younger sister of his best friend; he found in her a wild, young nature that he grew attracted to. Ginny embodied everything in her that meant being a Gryffindor. She was brave and good at everything she settled her mind upon, and he knew she would accomplish great things if given the opportunity, such as the path he could see her embarking on in the sport they both loved and played, Quidditch. 

He had wondered, at times,  how Ron would feel about him possibly crushing upon his sister, who he knew Ron was protective of.

It had all begun, he would think, after meeting at King's Cross. Ginny developed feelings for him and talked about him all summer, or so he had heard about it from an amused and teasing Ron, and when he was rescued from his family and brought to the Burrow, she became extremely shy in his presence. Since then, they have both gone on different romantic paths, but he knew it was hard to omit what was always there and would probably leave unless they faced it.

Overall, everything was just too complicated for him to get ahold of, especially his very complicated feelings, and with everything that had gone down in recent years, he could not think of affording the time to get to know anyone. Or so he thought, he had more important things to worry about, such as the flickering light that had begun to go wild on the opposite platform on which the food stand stood. He had stood to peer over the fogged window, trying to get a closer look at the sight before him that he knew could be of no normal nature as glitter dust began to dance over the opposite platform. As a train roars past, Harry squints through the flickering window and watches the dust transform into the headmaster of the place he had come to know as his one true home, Albus Dumbledore.

Levelling his glasses, he peers across the platform. Dumbledore smiles and gives Harry a wave. Although amused, Harry tightens his lips at the sight, knowing no good could come out of Dumbledore’s presence before him.

He was right, as he told himself he always was when his second instinct kicked in. One moment, he was standing beside his mentor, looking up at the rather provocative billboard he had seen being glued there not a few days past from his usual spot at the table at the stand; the next, he was being led through a steep, narrow street lined with darkened houses. It had lasted but a moment, but once he had placed his hand on that of his headmaster, the pitched headlong tornado he had been pulled into, and that trashed him into a sound of rush and fury had his guts twisting in ways he did not know could be twisted.

Even as he walked, he reeled from the apparition he had experienced. His eyes sting with tears, his steps heavy and unsteady, he followed Dumbledore in what he apparently required his assistance with.

“Most people vomit their first time. Don’t be too hard on yourself” he heard Dumbledore call out as he walked on the front.

“Can’t imagine why that is…” he murmured to himself, trying to regain his footing.

He glances about as Dumbledore explains to him that they are in the village of Budleigh Babberton. For what, Harry could only wonder, and as such, he says when asked of his opinion of the matter.

“After all these years, I just sort of roll with it, sir.” Dumbledore smiles mildly as if pleased by Harry’s willing compliance before the old lines on his face harden once they reach the objective of this ‘mission’ they had set out. A small stone house, in which Harry could not find any appeal whatsoever. Run down, the door blasted and misplaced, the windows on its sides broken and completely not whole. Something’s wrong, and Dumbledore takes the moment to voice it.

“Wands out, Harry”

Utter devastation is what they meet as they pass through the cracked door, moving smoothly and swiftly through the entrance hall, the light coming from the tips of their wands as their guiding light, with careful steps, avoiding the many possibilities of making noises that presented themselves to them in the form a grandfather clock laying on the floor, its face cracked, a piano sagging in in the corner, keys strewn like teeth upon the rug. A copy of the Daily Prophet, the same one he had been reading at the food stand, trembles in the breeze from a half-open window, broken shards of glass, more likely being the busted chandelier no longer on the ceiling, where in its place a hollowed hole in which a wet, dark and glutinous substance dripped down from upon, strikes the word ‘chosen’, written upon the gazette.

Harry gasped softly as it hit his face, flicking down on his forehead, right on his scar, and startling him. He went to dabb at it before Dumbledore stopped him, grabbed his hand, tapped the blood with his finger, and went for a taste.

The reaction is immediate, surely recognizing that which he had just gotten a taste of. Dumbledore turns, his eyes narrowing on an overstuffed armchair. A couple of perfectly placed slippers are in front of it, giving away the hiding spot of the person they were here for. 

Moving to it, Dumbledore jabs his wand into the plump seat cushion, awakening that which had not wanted to be disturbed in the first place.

Horace Slugghorn was many things. Some would say he was a fool. 

A naive, foolish fool who priced himself too much. A fool, indeed, but a prepared one he was.

The armchair he had mutated into reveals his plump, aged form, even as he briefly gets caught between the two forms. After a bit of grumbling and wrestling his way to the parts of him unwilling to change, seams splitting and the popping of a cushion button or two, the fat old man known as Horace Sluggorn reveals himself in all his glory, looking overly mighty in a pair of well-worn lilac pyjamas.

Quite the scene, Harry thought, as he watched the two converse before he was introduced to the man and he, in turn. Sluggorn looks at him as if he were a dragon, ready to pounce upon his new shining toy to add to his prized collection as he makes the observation many made at his sight. His father’s through and through, yet when people would meet his eyes, it was his mother staring back at them.

Harry didn’t know for how much longer in his life he could hear this comparison any longer; it brought him mixed feelings, to say the least. On the one hand, perhaps it was the fact that he could not remember either the face or the eyes most talked about if only by the memories brought by the many times he had passed flipping through the album of photos of them he held as a dear possession. But also, he felt a sort of pride in carrying the face of the people who were his parents, a mix of the love they had bore one another in the living form that he was. A true testament to who Lily and James Potter were, living and breathing, walking and very much alive in the form of their son.

Throughout it all, Sluggorn stared at Harry as if hypnotised, even as he gestured for him to walk closer to the dresser crowded with photographs, which his mom is part of many, it seems. Sluggorn rambled on and on about the other students he had the pleasure of teaching, whom he had stayed close to during the years, and his best students, his best picks, and members of his prized collection.

Harry remains disinterested in the description of many of these people until his eyes land on a framed photo, where a boy, no older than he was now, stands beside the professor, clad in his Slytherin quidditch uniform, who, for Harry’s liking, resembles Sirius too much.

He had come to know the boy as Regulus Black, Sirius’ brother, and Harry, hypnotised, just as Sluggorn had been of his presence, stares at the photo intently as Sluggorn describes him, the pleasure it had been being his teacher while professing the disappointment of not being his brother’s, how he had never been able to complete his collection of teaching members of the Black family through the lack of Sirius.

Before they can continue, they’re interrupted by Dumbledore coming back from the loo, a muggle magazine in hand about knitting patterns, a jolly expression on his face as he holds it up for Sluggorn to see as he asks if he could keep it. Sure enough, he’s given the go, and before Sluggorn can protest they make a go for the door once more, now in its place again.

Not even a few steps out of the door, Sluggorn comes rushing through, yelling about relenting to the hidden proposal that Dumbledore had come to present to him, as he had, it seemed, many times before. Returning to Hogwarts to teach potions. To Harry, it seemed a rather redundant proposal, especially coming all this way to pursue and persuade a man who did not ask to be impressed or be offered more than he bargained for and one who had seemed to be more than willing to take the offer once considered through. With just one interaction, Harry had come to understand who Horace Sluggorn was. He likes his comfort, the company of the famous, the successful, and the powerful. He enjoys the feeling that he influences these people as he boasts about them to others. He has never wanted to occupy the throne himself; he prefers the backseat — more room to spread out. It had been, just as they returned to the spot they had apparated to, that Harry truly realised just why Sluggorn had so easily accepted that which he had so vehemently denied before.

Him. It had all made sense. Harry wondered if he was so appealing to a man like Sluggorn, who did not seem to want anything and asked for nothing more than what he needed, that he would risk it all just to acquire him in the list of students Sluggorn had the pleasure to boast about.

The was something more, which he was shielded from, yet, but one that he knew would be revealed to him soon. Not now, it seemed, perhaps not the time yet. He didn’t ask or inquire, he knew it would be futile. He trusted Dumbledore, and he knew that he did things a certain way because those same things required them.

He took a deep breath as he placed his hand on the one Dumbledore extended to him, dreading what was to come next.

What he did not expect was for his next apparition to be worse than his first. His shoes, as well as a good chunk of his trousers, were wet from the running pond in the field the Burrow was built around, he had just landed into.

He groaned as he stumbled through the muddy ground under the water, trying to regain his footing as he winced.

Once he gets close enough to the house, he glances about, until his eyes land on the fiery-haired girl he shared complicated feelings for, Ginny, as she flits briefly past an upstairs window.

His reunion with his most dear friends had been bittersweet but a happy one nonetheless, even as he greeted Ginny, with whom he shared an air of awkwardness after she gave him a great grinning hug, the moment oddly charged, a surprise to both of them, which he thinks of even as he greets her mother, Molly Weasley, who he viewed as his own.

A copy of the Daily Prophet tumbles within a makeshift campfire of blue flames, protruding by Harry’s wand, but magically doesn’t disintegrate. Harry teases the fire with the tip of his wand, where ‘The Chosen One?’ mingles with Draco’s haunted face in flames, the photo taken outside the hearing for his father’s trial.

He, Ron and Hermione catch up on what’s been happening as of late, the fact that both Hermione’s parents, muggle-born that had no idea of the intricacies of the wizarding world, and Ron’s mother deemed the idea of returning to Hogswart to be too unfit to happen.

Harry shook his head as he argued against the notion of Hogwarts ever being dangerous.

“But we’re talking about Hogwarts. Dumbledore. What could be safer?” His question was met with both of his friends sharing a knowing look. Perhaps it was his naivety or the simple trust he blindly placed in a man who had proven to be more than reliable, but Harry truly believed in the idea that as long as Dumbledore was around nothing would happen. He knew that to be true, he would stick to his gun unless proven otherwise.

He believed he knew the old man, who he viewed as his mentor, better than everyone at school; what a fool Harry was, he didn’t know the man at all, only what he was given to believe he was. But such a young spirit could not be dispirited by the harsh reality of the world he was not shown, that which was purposely hidden from him. He needed to believe, otherwise what else would there be for him to believe in?

The comforting silence in the room breaks as the three break off in laughter, and the night comes alive with the flesh of youth. That night, as Harry lies on a straw-together makeshift bed, he looks out upon the blue field, where shining stars glisten brightly, contrasting their dark surroundings.

With his nose filled with the smell of sweet vanilla candles, he falls into the depths of his dreams, where warm fingertips trace and trail upon his face. The echoes of a muffled voice lull him into the darkness he had become so afraid of before he falls into their warm embrace.

He would soon find out whose hands those fingers belonged to and why they were reaching for his dreams.

AN: I wanted to preface that i'm writing this fanfic as a birthday gift to one of my friends and that with her permission I heavily edited this to make it a x reader story for you all to enjoy. I am not the biggest fan of this franchise even though I appreciate it for what it is, its impact on fandom works, and the childhood it took me through. It's been a long time since I've interacted with this fandom (which i'm not sure it's still alive for this x reader story to enjoy) or since I watched one of the movies, so please, if you think I'm not educated enough in the source material it's mostly likely because I am actually not. I will try my best to be faithful to the events of the movies since this is canon-compliant to them (especially because I have not read the books), and I hope that with that little warning in mind, you will be able to enjoy this as much as I actually found myself while writing it.

[viaphni]

RUINED REALLTY SEASON THREE: CATALYST TRAILER ANALYSIS

I have to completely admit that the end of season 2 and its epilogue had me very hesitant for the way things are going, and I am still a little hesitant, but i DO BELIEVE THAT THEY ARE 1000% COOKING

First of all, that trailer was AMAZING!

The music, atmosphere, and cinematography were all done very very well (and great voice acting from Rinzler too)

But onto the actual trailer

It opens up on the results of the Soulstice's arrival, with Light alone, showing everybody's souls stolen away and their bodies on the ground. Light has lost it all. He immediately blames himself. It's also made apparent pretty quickly that Soullless is still present in some way, and is going to play a significant role again.

One of the first really interesting things to occur is Light taking the Soul Eater's weapon in his hands.

He stares at it for a moment before picking it up, the screen fading to black. But why would he be using his worst enemy's weapon? What benefit does it serve him? Mostly likely, I think it would have something to do with Soulless. Whether he likes it or not, Light now has a complete tie to the Soulstice itself. As he takes it, he says "And now, another threat is here..."

And Void's new reign of terror is displayed:

We are shown the Yellow Kingdom again, and the areas around it, completely overtaken by Darkness. Void must have taken complete control of the situation, as we just saw Seer with active dominance over their body in the epilogue. Maybe it was a defense mechanism to keep him alive after Corrupt's attack?

After these shots, we see what I think is the center tower of the kingdom—and there is a deep, bottomless pit surrounding it where the moat of lava once was.

It reminds me a bit of the castle entrance to the Depths from Tears of the Kingdom. Void might have something important down there.

A few more shots cycle through of the tower, and we see this—

The camera is descending into the chasm.

Next, we see a room maybe akin to some kind of lab?

It could also be a big machine. Somebody is standing there, but even with heightened exposure and brightness, it's hard to tell who it is. I'm sure it's Void, however, due to the chasm and darkness. This shot is really interesting, too--

--because it seems to be the view of the surface from this area underground. With heightened exposure, the walls look very machine-like.

Whether that or a lab, it clearly serves a primary purpose in Void's plans. (One of my first thoughts was likely a stretch, but I asked myself if it could be similar to the Soulstice--in the way that a machine was created to steal all souls, another would be created now to spread Darkness. Shadow Sabre did something similar in RQ.)

The next four shots emphasize what seems to be some of our new group of main characters.

We see the Purple Leader in his home. Him coming into the main cast will be very interesting, as I'm sure it will give us more opportunities to learn about the histories with people like the Sorcerer and Phantasia, strong links to the Soulstice. I'm sure this knowledge will be vital to the fight.

Now this next photo--I can't exactly tell what's going on here? It appears to be Corrupt's lab? When the exposure and brightness are edited, I can't see any details. But this is 1000% Corrupt is just is trust frfrfrfrfrfrfrfrfrfrffrfr Corrupt is alive

The shot then switches to an Indigo and an unidentifiable Aquamarine who seems to be imbued with light energy, given the white eye. I assumed this could be Aaron, but his soul got stolen. Who knows? The Indigo is the Doctor Indigo, I would think--given the coat and monocle, but he didn't have a design in Season 2, so I'm unsure. Both of these could be completely new characters.

And now, Dimension facing off with the Soulstice. It seems that Dimension will play a much bigger role now and actually put in the work for once. I guess that was his final straw? Or maybe the season will start and he will still show absolutely no concern.

A couple of interesting shots of Light and Soulless show up after this.

In a similar fashion to the Season 2 intro, Light walks towards the camera and glitches into his other forms, this one being Soulless. It only emphasizes his apparent new role in the season.

After this, we see a standoff between the main cast and the main opposition. Light, Professor, Dimension, Purple, and...a strange new variant of Assistant. It makes me think of the assistant robot from A Dark Soul, which was also themed around light. In the beginning of the trailer (and in the thumbnail), we only see the Assistant as a head. I guess he got repaired, and Light was a major factor playing in it.

I'd also like to point out how odd the new Sculk Steves look. They have gray streaks, like light energy. Since Corrupt was absorbed by the Soulstice, I imagine that the light crystal he held became of high use to the Soulstice, allowing it to power up these Steves like this.

The patterns on the ends of their limbs also look much bigger/brighter/saturated, or maybe its just the lighting--like soul flames instead of the typical sculk steve pattern.

The Steve standing above in the second picture catches my eye, though. It seems to be a "normal" being, and even appears to be holding something if you look closely.

Right by the head there. This figure is also standing closest to the Soulstice, so they must be important. Could it be Corrupt? Well if you watch a few more seconds--

Right there. We see Light fighting with who appears to be that figure. But that sword... We have seen that sword before!

Corrupt's sword.

We never saw Corrupt disappear when the Soulstice found him. It's more than probable that he simply could have just absorbed the light energy from him, used it to power up the sculk steves and other operations, and left Corrupt weakened. But what purpose would he have even leaving him alive? The Soulstice has everything it needs now, right?

Light found Toxin, too. And with a potion effect? He seems weakened. Perhaps Void has abandoned him and Light will team up with him? He already seemed to be cracking during his fight with Light in the forest where his prior identity as Soren was revealed. Is it finally time we get Soren back? Or will he still be evil?

The next few shots depict a battle between Light and Void, seemingly at his new base of operations. I'd put photos, but I'm almost out of space, and I want to keep this all in one post. Plus, there isn't a lot to analyze there.

The final shots of the trailer are some of my favorite ones.

There's a good bit to break down here.

We start out by seeing Light's cursed form, except his curse appears to have spread greatly. I've also just realized that he doesn't have his soul-afflicted eye in this form. Images of Purple Leader, Soulstice, Professor, Soulless, and Assistant are not surprising--we already know of their larger roles. I believe that's Corrupt again in the 5th shift. As for the 8th, I'm a bit confused. I don't think we know who this person is. However, the purple belt definitely brings up a few ideas, even if they're stretches. Could we meet a new Purple Steve--maybe even Phantasia?? I doubt that's the case, as it seems pretty outlandish. The Yellow Leader being present actually makes a lot of sense as well. His Darkness should give him resistance to the Soulstice.

BUT, I'm really focusing in on those last three. Louis, Cliff, and,, Seer.

We saw the Elites' souls taken. Clearly, they find their way back to the land of the living eventually (and with some sick new redesigns.) Louis doesn't change much, but Cliff appears to now be entirely a Light Steve. Which brings up another thought--if he is now 100% light, does this mean that he is completely purged of Darkness? Is his Shadow gone? Is his shadow the reason he had to become fully light?

And then there's Seer. There's no doubt that this is him. My friend @chaoticcyprus brought up this photo:

We saw this shot during the semi-finale when Void was battling the Soul Eater. The outfit aligns perfectly, except now his hood is down, and he seems to have been set free from whatever chains held him previously.

But how would Seer and Void separate? I assume it would have something to do with Corrupt's final blow on Void.

Corrupt dealt an absolutely MASSIVE amount of power onto his opponent. I'm sure that the sheer amount of light energy could be enough to somehow split Void and Seer apart. It would explain Void's sudden spike in power and authority that he seems to have in the next season.

As for any final thoughts,,, I can't think of much else for now.

But I'm looking forward to hearing what everyone else has to say, and also what the team presents for Catalyst!

[ink-casket]

gwuh hi there fren…. Could we request a Goat from COTL pack plez..? /nf!!!

there’s a stupid lil fragment dude that’s trying to form as them but is havin some troublez..

:”3

Requested pack ᯓ★

Goat Cult Of The Lamb

// keep in mind headmates may not form exactly like the pack! //

Names: Goat, Ivory, Damien, Noire, Nes, Hel, Yama (I apologize for the normal names, I’m shit at names and can only thing of sounds/objects/colors when it comes to anything)

Titles: The Cult Leader, (prn) Who Controls, (prn) Who Attacks, The Dark Overseer, The BloodShedder, The Tiny Ram

Source: Cult Of The Lamb

Age: 5000-7400

Pronouns: Pier/Pierce/Pierces, Spe/Spear/Spears, Knife/Knifes/Knifeself, Death/Deaths/Deathself, Cult/Cults/Cultself, Control/Controls/Controlself, Sneak/Sneaks/Sneakself, Crush/Crushs/Crushself, Leader/Leaders/Leaderself, Betray/Betrays/Betrayself, Wrong/Wrongs/Wrongself, Anon/Anons/Anonself, Threat/Threats/Threatself, Harm/Harms/Harmself, Hunt/Hunts/Huntself, 💢/💢s/💢self, ⛓️‍💥/⛓️‍💥s/⛓️‍💥self, ♣️/♣️s/♣️self, 🗝️/🗝️s/🗝️self, 👁️/👁️s/👁️self (Pier personally dislikes He/She/They pronouns for Controlself, so Crush avoids it at all cost)

Genders: Genderanon, Viosalimi, Purple People Eater, Purplepresentic, Vampirething, Vampstoneric, Weaponized, Gunscopegender, Liveweaponic, Th?ng

Sexualities: Objectum (Axes or just heavy/long weapons), Demiromantic, Male-leaning bisexual

Roles: Attacker, Voidmate, Stutter holder, Reality checker, Warden, Abditior,

Likes: Certain people (friends, family, etc), Weapons, Being seen as something other than human, Self deprecating jokes, Biting things, Picking other people up, Video recorders, Certain gameplay videos, Elevator music

Dislikes: Kat (iykyk), Taking care of spearself, Brushing out tangled hair, Textured food (Like oatmeal), Being disagreed with, Friends or other being attacked

Extra appearances: A large scratch over + Blind in the right eye (sometimes wears an eyepatch), A giant purple robe with dark purple details, Neckpiece covered in bones and dangling bones from belt, Long curly tangled black hair, 3 eyes, Large black crown with purple eye, Giant curled horns and large fluffy ears, Large fangs, Bright purple eyes, Eye bags

Extra info: When in front Control tends to puff out Threats chest to appear bigger, Hunt presents Leaderself as a weapon to the system, attacks whenever Betray feels antagonized, Stands on wrongs toes whenever in front to look like ram legs and give sneak extra height

Faceclaims:

Drew started making this (Aka just inputting what we’re supposed to do) and then.. left. So. But I hope this is good enough, we actually really like cult of the lamb so this gave us some ideas of what to do. Also psst. Hey moot. It scares the living shit out of us when you like our stuff but it’s very funny to see. Also I think we may split from this so. Fuck.

Requests are open! ᯓ★

Inbox — What can you request?

[silent-littles-blog]

It’s me again! (@/thetinyblossom)

Could I please have some Elphelt Valentine regressor HC’s? Thank you sm!!!

- Blossom 🌸

ELPHET VALENTINE (GUILTY GEAR) | REGRESSOR HCS

· ─────────꒰🐰꒱───────── ·

GOOD DAY FAVORITE MUTUAL, I present you my best attempts to hc this character! I love what she looks like. She gives off clumsy vibes. I also learned a little about her from my boyfriend.

🐰 • Absolutely mama/dada/cg's girl, she is clingy, very whiny and noisy. She can't be without her cg for even a minute.

🍡 • Speaking of noisiness, she does a few animal vocals and squeaks. She says a few sentences too though, especially when irritated.

🍨 • Probably regresses to 4-6 years old. She probably loves onesies, specifically ones with bunny ears or unicorn looking ones.

🐰 • Loves drawing and other activities! Running around and visiting the playground. She prefers the zoo over aquariums probably. She is very clumsy but doesn't whine much over getting bruised. Though she can sure leave her cg panicked with how purple her knees and elbows are!!

🍡 • Loves soft textures, hates crunchy textures. She isn't a picky eater, but prefers sweet foods and would want to eat pasta, mashed potatoes and stuff over meat. She likes a few veggies absolutely.

🍨 • Loves singing and dancing? Maybe

🐰 • I can't help but think that she is very bratty and would get into a problem just because she wants her cg to help her and give her all the attention. She's like an angel when sleepy, she gets very cuddly and needy.

🍡 • Is probably bossy at times, esp if she regresses to older ages.

🍨 • Loves sibbies! But is more reassured if her cg is nearby, though, sibbies help her focus on interacting with other people than just being glued to her cg.

🐰 • Probably has that kid plastic guitar and loves bath crayons.

[afaithfulfollower]

The Saviour Girl - Chapter One

“Little pig, little pig, let me in!” 

Dread became the massacre of hope when the people of Alexandria heard Negan knocking on their gate. They had power; power that Alexandria couldn't deny, therefore they were compelled to do as they were told – lest they all be lined up on their knees and be executed. 

Rick Grimes, the leader of Alexandria, was frozen in shock; rage and fear creating a mixture of confliction that interfered with his sense of logic. He didn't expect Negan to show up at his doorstep so early, especially after forcing them into submission at the line up not too long ago. Rick never wanted to kill somebody so badly in his entire life, and yet, with all that anger and fury built inside, it caused Rick to tremble when the other part of him wanted to keep his people alive. Preserving his rage was something Rick wasn't sure he could control, but it was the only way to ensure that he could avenge Glenn and Abraham. 

As the afternoon sun shone down on Alexandria from the north, a figure's silhouette was cast onto the old, rusty gate and the cover that prevented any hungry eyes from straying at the gate for too long. In this case, it was much worse than flesh-eaters. 

It was the Saviors, coming to take what they wanted. 

As the gate was opened, the silhouette became visible, where a man wearing a leather jacket, holding a barbed wire bat, stood on the other side, with a grin spreading from ear to ear. Negan, the king of the Saviors, felt even happier once he saw Rick and the rest of Alexandria gathered around on the other side of the gate to witness him ruling over them, by making an unexpected appearance to ensure that he had them by the leash. 

“What do you want?” Rick curtly asked after he was asked to open the gate for Negan and his troops. 

“Well, good afternoon to you too, Rick. I thought we would pay you a little visit and take some weight off your shoulders.” Negan greeted him with much enthusiasm. “You see, last night, I was in my room, thinking about what was missing. Was it a fancy chair? No. Was it a nice portrait of George motherfucking Washington? Hell no. I was thinking… more guns. And you know what you have, Rick? More goddamn guns that we need, and you don't. But on my way here, I realized, ‘shit, my people need stuff too, so I'll ask Rick to let me have half of his shit.’ ” 

Rick noticed the delivery trucks that were part of the convoy. Those trucks were driven deeper into Alexandria, where the Saviors began to pillage most of what Alexandria owned. Negan then ordered Rick to give him a tour of Alexandria, to which Negan promptly led them around while Rick was tasked with looking after Lucile – Negan's bat, named after his late, first wife.

Saviors were seen carrying couches, chairs, boxes of goods and guns out to their trucks. 

“Anything else you want to take from us?!” Someone shouted, sniding incredulously. 

A girl with long, brown hair had been standing out on the street, irately watching the Saviours as they took some stuff from her house. She could do nothing, as she had already voiced her disapproval of them taking anything they wanted. One Savior even had the audacity to mock her for having balloons. 

Another girl who was present in transporting goods into the trucks, had stopped for a moment, where both girls locked eyes. She mentally noted the undeniable beauty of the brunette, and the sparkle of her jade orbs. The Savior glanced down at the girl's arms where they were folded underneath her breasts, where she noticed in particular, an intriguing purple, blue and pink bracelet. 

Upon realizing that she was staring at her bracelet and possibly wanted it for herself, the green-eyed girl dropped her arms and hid her bracelet arm behind her back. Her features hardened, determination settling in to ensure that she didn't lose the one thing that meant a lot to her. 

“Hey,” a stray, masculine voice called. 

A man looking five foot ten in height, approached the two girls, specifically eyeing the resident.

“You got somethin’ she wants,” said the man. 

The brunette’s mouth parted slightly, her eyes darting back to her bracelet, then back up to his menacing gaze. 

“No. It’s mine. I’m not letting you take it.” She argued, putting her foot down firmly to let them know she would not allow them to oppress her like they did with Alexandria. 

“I wasn’t asking. Take. It. Off.” 

She knew there was no point in arguing, so while she remained unscathed, she hastily took off her bracelet out of frustration and she extended her hand out to him. Emotions started to swell within her when the bracelet was snatched from her palm, which seemingly amused the taller Savior, in comparison to the younger one, who felt remorseful for even looking her way. 

“Good girl,” said the man as he resumed filling the truck with goods. 

A shiver ran through the girl’s body as his words carried discomfort. When she realised that the other girl was still standing there, holding her bracelet, she tightened her jaw and spun on her heels so that her back was to her, and she stormed off. 

Not long after, the Saviors had finished taking from the residents of Alexandria and they began to leave to head back to the Sanctuary, but only after they willfully did as Negan ordered, which was to burn everything they'd stolen. 

The girl who'd been robbed of her bracelet had been grumpy for the rest of the day. Even those who called her friend, noticed her attitude, but were unsuccessful in cheering her up. To avoid any more undesired attention, the girl waited a while before she snuck out of her house and headed to find a specific wall where she could climb over. 

Her hands were barely sore from the climbing, as she'd become used to doing it so often – almost on a regular basis. Once she was on the other side, she dropped down with care and made off in a jog to a secret spot, where she had comic books and the like, scattered around for her to read while time flew past. 

She sat down on a log and picked up a comic book and read it. A hollow tree to her left kept her company; offering shelter should any stray walkers wander too closely. On said tree, was a message carved, which read, ‘Enid was here’. 

Enid, which was the name of the girl sitting on the log, became oblivious to the world around her. Reading comic books was her refuge and solace, as well as a reminder of a time before the apocalypse. Once upon a time, she treated others coldly, not daring to attract any fondness to those whom she was terrified of losing; which was the case after she lost her parents who died right in front of her. 

Now eighteen and alone, Enid had nothing left. Not even the bracelet her parents got for her for her sixteenth birthday. 

Emotions came crashing in like a tidal wave on Enid, causing a disruption of attention on the slightly worn paper book in her hands. Her bottom lip quivered, hands trembling with a frightening might as the book rattled in her hands. Sobs broke out from her mouth as she found it extremely difficult to hold it together any longer; she gave on almost immediately and Enid cried, wishing that she still had her parents, or at the very least, wished that she'd died with them. 

After some time, Enid managed to compose herself. Her glassy eyes took notice of where the sun was through the trees. With a rough estimate on what time it was, Enid wiped her tears and made her return to Alexandria before anyone could get suspicious or worried. 

While the world had gone to shit, Alexandria had managed to maintain some semblance of normalcy through electricity that enabled the good people of Alexandria to use appliances, lights, and other utilities. Even when others had access to such things, everyone often gathered into other people’s houses to celebrate every week, every month, their surviving the apocalypse. 

But things have changed, again… 

Enid silently climbed down from the wall and dropped to the ground. She looked at the front gate, where she noticed Father Gabriel, the town priest, standing guard, staring aimlessly at the dark and the indiscernible road. He held a Bible in his hand, hoping that he could reach out to God for hope.

Nobody was around to catch Enid sneaking in, which relieved her as she snuck across the street towards her home. 

As she came up towards the steps of her porch, Enid spotted something hanging from the door handle. Her brows furrowed, knitting a confused expression, as she approached the door and withdrew the object that was left there. 

“My bracelet…” Enid gasped. 

Even though she had no reason to, Enid looked over her shoulder to see if she could catch anybody spying on her interacting with her remitted personal item. A smile ghosted her lips, forming an illicit reaction of both doubt and relief; happiness for having her bracelet restored, but also skepticism towards the Savior that returned said bracelet. 

Were they all as bad as she heard, or did some still have part of their humanity still intact? 

[milkboygames]

Genre Non-Specific TTRPG Items To Fuck With Your Players Pt 2

The Cup of Infinite Liquid: This cup holds an infinite amount of liquid! It never empties! You can drink and drink forever! (The catch is that the liquid is mayonnaise. Nothing else. Only mayonnaise. Also there is no lid so it will also spill forever)

Purple Wisdom: A small purple trinket that gives you cryptic answers when asked questions. (It will give extremely cryptic answers, but it will also turn you purple when you hold it. You are now being hunted by the one eyed one horned flying purple people eater)

Charm of Future Sight: a pocket watch sized charm with a screen on it. When the button is pressed it will show you the future (It shows the future of a the few moments after it was pressed, so it essentially just shows the present)

[repurposedmeatlocker]

hey!! 6, 8, & 10 for the record ask

6. Favorite single in your collection? I would have to say my serious answer is my "I Saw the Light"/"Marlene" single by Todd Rundgren, and my ironic answer is "The Purple People Eater"/"I Can't Believe You're Mine" single by Sheb Wooley.

8. Artist/Band whose records you buy the most? Ok this is a tricky one. While technically I would say the records who I have the MOST completed collection of are Crosby Stills & Nash, Yes, and The Moody Blues. I didn't actually BUY these records (I received them either for free from giveaways/a pile that was being thrown away in my apartment or, in the case with Yes, I got them as presents for Christmas). I would say most of the time when I buy records the artists I choose vary on what I am actually able to find.

10. Last Record You Bought? the self titled debut by It's a Beautiful Day! Wanted to have it for a long while, not just because of the music but because the cover is so gorgeous!

[hyuccubus]

Happy STS! Seasons are changing. Tell me how one or more of your characters would react. Are they dressing cozy? Obsessed with everything pumpkin? Have they been prepping for Halloween since last year?

Whew, many characters to dream up feelings about this. Sounds like fun, though! All the characters are from Target Practice

Swift: It's been a while since Swift got invested in the spirit of the season. He's not a curmudgeon, he just longs for the most important aspect of the holidays; a complete, happy, content family. He's more of a "go with the flow" sort of celebrator over the course of the novel as it happens. "Oh, you're making hot chocolate? I'd love a cup. No, no, don't bring it over, I'll get up." "Oh, we're carving pumpkins? No, I know I didn't bring one, I'll just watch everyone else. Here, let me get your pumpkin guts out of the way." "Oh, we're decorating for Halloween? I'll get up on the ladder to put up the spider webs." He has a habit of giving himself the undesirable tasks, on the one hand to make sure no one else gets it, but also so everyone knows he's reliable.

(I understand you, Swift)

Patches: Oh my GOD there's so much to do, we have to take in every single aspect of this season while it's around, we can actually be outside most of the day and not want to die! We gotta stop by that food stall that only opens during the autumn in the park, they have those pumpkin spice cake pops!!! Plays in the park auditorium at dusk, community trick or treat events, Rocky Horror Picture Show midnight screenings! THE WORLD IS OUR OYSTER!

Ira: Ira would rather die than admit this to present company, but she adores the holidays. Like a metronome, she has drifted from one pole to the other due to past traumas. She will suppress holiday cheer in order to avoid the disappointment that comes with knowing she can't celebrate them with her birth family, but about a week before the big day, she'll swing to the other extreme, guzzling hot toddies and making spooky ghost cookies, forcing the entire group to share ghost stories (much to Specs and Rat's chagrin). She can't help herself.

Lumo: Lumo's all about tradition. It can seem like he's limiting his fun to an itinerary, but structure is fun to him.

"We're decorating cookies at 11, then we're going to the pumpkin patch at 2:00 to pick one that we like, and the appointment is at two sharp, so we're leaving at 1:15, and then when we get back, we're going to carve them right away, 'cause otherwise they'll just be sitting around. I have a playlist I've already made, all the greats, Monster Mash, Flying Purple People Eater, the classics. Then we'll roast the seeds, which will be done in time for a double feature of Nightmare Before Christmas and Wendell and Wild, and it's going to be amazing and no one is going to complain."

Gharial: Gharial, like the eternal cinnamon bun he be, gets into the Halloween spirit the moment the first leaf changes color. Pumpkin spice lattes, sweaters, watching Hocus Pocus on repeat, and tormenting Rat with matching costume ideas. Families might change, but holidays are always there, and rather than live in the past, Gharial prefers the prospect of making new memories with the people he loves right now.

Rat: Guys, can't we slow down with the decorations?

...I didn't say I didn't want to help put them up.

Specs: Wake me up on Halloween night. I am dressing as Oracle from Batman. That is all.

Bruja: The perfect celebration buddy. Down for whatever, whenever. Haunted Forest? I'm gonna make the chainsaw clown laugh. Hayride? I'll bring the blankets! Movie marathon? I've already got popcorn in the microwave. Since Specs and Bruja are together so often, Specs is often along for the ride, though it's less to do with the spirit of the season than it is the blood of the covenant.

Thanks for the ask, Tori! Even after ten years, I'm learning new things about my characters every day.

[winsoongi]

hai i am not saying this a joke or anything I genuinely want to see every answer for that oc game :)

[ask game]

YESSSSSSSS HELL YEAH

I'm gonna do these for seonjin bc i'm thinking about him. here is a sneak peak at his new design also:

answers under the cut bc there are a lot

I typically associate seonjin with the color purple, though in character i doubt he cares much about it. typically he wears a lot of blacks, dark blues and greys.

Seonjin would like hard rock, though he's adamant that anything written after 2000 is trash. he would never admit this, but he also listens to a lot of NELL and other tearjerker kpop. I don't know about his favorite song, but I associate him with sabotage by the beastie boys

As for weapon of choice, seonjins weapon in Ad Terra is a revolver, but he never uses it because he doesn't have many bullets. Seonjin believes he can outwit or avoid other people (and zombies) 99% of the time so he doesn't feel the need to weigh himself down carrying a big weapon. If push comes to shove though, he thinks the revolver's intimidation factor should be enough.

Seonjin is resourceful in some ways and just refuses to try in others. he's stubborn about not knowing how to build things, mend clothing, etc. but he's survived on his own for a long time so he knows how to meet his needs.

In Ad Terra, seonjin favors practicality and freedom of movement over anything else, but in normalverse he's definitely more of an aesthetic guy. he owns WAY too many shoes. he doesn't have an interest in fashion though, it's more of a status thing for him.

Again, how seonjin wears his hair differs in normalverse vs. Ad Terra. In normalverse he has a stylish and very well maintained haircut, but in Ad Terra he bleaches his hair and basically has a mullet. go figure.

He likes orcas and narwhals he thinks they're cool as hell

Seonjin's only nickname is his gamer tag, PRinCe. He didn't choose it for any strong reason, he just thought it sounded good and he thought it would be cool to change it to, like, King or something when he made a name for himself

His favorite food is ribs prepared absolutely any way. He's definitely a picky eater, he hates fish and anything fishy. Tragically he is also lactose intolerant.

Seonjin does not wear jewelry, but he does think it'd be cool to get his ears pierced at some point. He likes gold more than silver but I don't think he has a favorite gem other than "most expensive."

What he has in common with me? hmmm. we both play offtank and try to live in the present, i guess. he's different in that he is... ruthless isn't quite the right word, but he is goal-oriented to the extreme and actively tries not to be approachable. I think i'd get along with him better than with most of my other ocs, but we wouldn't be close.

He's been around for... what, 3 years now? His original concept was very loose and I don't remember when he really started to carve himself out. I haven't decided on a birthday for him yet, but he was born in '99. As for what he thinks about celebrating birthdays, he'd say it isn't really important to him but he definitely cares.

Seonjin is a native korean speaker and also speaks english very fluently!

He's, like, fine with numbers and he'd be better if he tried, but he doesn't really care about math

His family is just him, his parents, and his paternal grandparents. When he was growing up it was just him and his parents, but after he left to compete in the US his parents moved in with his grandparents. In Ad Terra, he lives by himself, but he doesn't stay anywhere too long.

Seonjin doesn't have pets, but he's always wanted to get a hamster and thinks they're the perfect animal.

He spent most of his summers/free time gaming, and the rest of it working at a relative's store.

Seonjin doesn't care if someone lies or steals (and does so often himself), but killing is WAY too far. Generally, his main priority is survival and he understands when others lie to or steal from him to do the same

Seonjin gets angry very easily, but he's very good at taking a deep breath, pushing it aside, and not letting his emotions control him. Notable exceptions are when his past as a booster is brought up as a gotcha or when someone (nyangi) goes too far.

Seonjin cannot drive and will never learn. public transit sweep!!!!!

His favorite place to be is at home. He doesn't get to come back often (or at all in Ad Terra), so he misses it a lot.

Seonjin's sleep is segmented and he usually wakes up a few times throughout the night. he prefers to take short naps as opposed to long sleeps.

His voice is gentle and he typically speaks casually. He's on the low end of the tenor spectrum? I think he could sing if he wanted to, but he never does.

Seonjin does not have any creative hobbies, but he'd find woodcarving fun if he tried it out.

His eyesight is like, fine, but his hearing is a bit below average. he makes up for this by having REALLY good intuition.

seonjin is super agile! he's quick on his feet and very flexible.

(changing this to favorite game instead of favorite sport for obvious reasons) he plays Fantasy Overwatch professionally, but seonjin's all time favorite game is Fantasy Quake

Seonjin shows he cares by like. keeping an eye out and going out of his way to be helpful to them. as for how he shows he dislikes someone... he doesn't care. if he doesn't like them, they're a fly buzzing in his ear, nothing more.

the element i associate him with is fire, but in my superpower AU he's got earth magic for plot reasons LMAO

I don't think he smells like anything particular. just very neutral

Seonjin likes receiving gifts, but he never knows what to do with them because generally he's already gotten himself whatever he needs. he really hates giving gifts because he assumes other people are the same and also don't like novelties (but he gives them anyways if its socially required). his ideal gift? a gift card to his favorite restaurant. he doesn't think anyone pays attention to him or what he likes/dislikes, so someone taking the time to figure that out would mean a lot to him.

odd habbits? not really... he's laser focused on his goals and doesn't care to do anything but work towards them.

How my other characters would describe him... most of them would describe him as hardworking and amicable, but more standoffish and forgettable than anything else. nyangi on the other hand would say he's a manipulative spiteful sonofabitch. sale would say the same thing as everyone else, but add that they feel sorry for him.

seonjin would describe himself as someone who never gives up and who's stronger than anyone else believes he is. he prides himself on his intuition and work ethic.

In normalverse, Seonjin returns home as much as he can (which isn't often). In Ad Terra? he can't return home, and in more ways than he thinks.

[leogichidaa]

Not only do Sirius and Bellatrix occasionally act as if Rabastan didn’t get arrested with Bella, but those two once got Rodolphus to join in on the chaos, claiming his brother was nowhere to be found that day. The other Death Eaters were speechless and Rabastan’s face turned purple (everyone pretends not to see Bellatrix handing Sirius two galleons because they bet on which color his face would turn). Make it funnier, the Order is present too and even though Sirius does not get along with his family, they’re chaotic and will band together about that (and then go right back to dueling); the Order is watching Sirius and Bellatrix deny Rabastan was even around just to annoy the guy, and wow do they feel bad for anyone who had to deal with them as kids, that must have been a nightmare

Listen, there's a reason that nobody gave too much pushback against the idea that Sirius was a Death Eater and it's not because people witnessed him blowing up a street or because Dumbledore told everyone Sirius was the Potters' Secret Keeper, it's because they've all seen him in a room with his family and thought "wow, could have easily went the other way with him, huh?"

Rodolphus takes it to the next level and says that he actually doesn't have a brother and he doesn't know who this man is or how he got to Azkaban, but he certainly wasn't there with him and Bellatrix. No, Barty is like a little brother to him because he never had a real brother. Rabastan cries about it for weeks.

[leejafythe]

Dancer and the Lightwardens: Chapter 2

Welcome to the Crystarium - Originally posted here

Going through the veil between worlds, Leeja wasn’t sure what to expect. She wasn’t expecting to be met by memories of her travels, the people she had met and those she had failed. It stung, but there was nothing she could do about it. Soon, a bright light enveloped her and everything went white. When she next opened them again, her head throbbed and her body, but the sky above her blazed brightly and the trees around her were purple. Where in the seven hells am I? She stood up, trying to shake away the migraine that started to develop and looked around. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but she certainly wasn’t expecting to see the Crystal Tower standing proudly in the distance. She made her way toward it, looking around at the purple tress around her. The only person she saw was a travelling merchant who had informed her that it had been over 100 years since the flood of Light had happened. There were no stars, no moon. No night. He directed her toward the tower - the direction she had been going anyway - and the city named the Crystarium. 

Being stopped just before the gate came as no surprise to her, only when asked where she hailed from, she didn’t know how to answer. She answered “the Source?” as a confused answer and the viera blocking her path shakes her head and tells her she won’t be allowing Leeja entry to the city for ‘lying.’ When the viera pulled out her chakrams, Leeja let her fingers hover over her own until she watched the woman take out a white creature. “Is everything alright, Captain?” “Quite alright, my lord. Just a stray sin eater, and a weak one at that.”  “I see. Weak or not, we should be on the lookout for more.” Leeja’s eyes narrowed ever so slight at the appearance of the mysterious newcomer. “But I see you’ve met my guest. I will escort her to the Crystarium myself… If you’ve no objections?” “Another one of your mysterious friends, is it? I should have known. Very well. I’ll inform the others your guest is to be given the run of the city.” She looked over at Leeja. “Pray forgive my less-than-cordial welcome. May the rest of your stay with us be a pleasant one.” And with that, Leeja left with the hooded man.  After plenty of getting lost, taking the wrong turn or going back on herself, Leeja finally finished learning the lay of the land and found herself back in the plaza in front of the Crystal Tower where the Exarch awaited her return. “You've done as I requested, and learned something of the world in which you find yourself. Now it's time I fulfilled my half of the bargain, and explained what has befallen your comrades.” “Just like that? Then… G’raha Tia is…?” She looked at him with hope. It devastated her to see him lock himself away, now she has the chance of potentially seeing him again? “...I am not familiar with that name. Is there something I should know?” Her heart dropped and a flash of sadness caught his eye. “Oh… No, it’s nothing. He was a friend, you see. He locked himself in the tower to keep it in slumber and I thought you might have seen him. Just me getting my hopes up for nothing I suppose.” She shrugged her shoulders with disappointment but tried to smile, only for it to fail. “An extraordinary tale. But I'm afraid I found no such individual residing in the tower when it passed into my care. Mayhap we can revisit that mystery another time. For now, I think it best that we focus on the present.” He was sympathetic, but he was right. The current predicament was the most important thing to focus on now. “Of course, I’m sorry. You wanted to tell me of the Scions whereabouts?” Leeja looked at him as he nodded. They made their way into the tower and into a room called the Occular where he began to go through everything.

“Their arrival, however, was not as recent as you may imagine. Here, time flows at a different pace from that of the Source. In the space of a single hour in your home world, an entire year might pass in the First ─ and the reverse could also be true. The pace fluctuates without rhyme or reason, and it cannot be predicted. As for your companions, however... Y'shtola and Urianger have dwelled here for three winters all told, while Thancred's count stands at five.” Leeja tensed. It had been a few moons since they were called away here, to this mysterious shard. Five years? He had been here for five years?! “Are you alright? You look… Confused.” “No… Yes? Sorry, still overwhelmed at the fact he’s been here for five years.” Her brows furrowed together as the Exarch continued. “Alphinaud and Alisaie, have lived in the First for almost a year. My intention had been to summon only you, but the art of reaching across worlds has proven exceedingly difficult to master. Thus it was that my fumbling hand closed upon those to whom your fate is most closely bound as well.” He watched Leeja’s hands ball into fists. "Fumbling hand !? You stole them away right when we needed them! There is a damn war happening and we need all of them! I don’t care if you had brought just me over, but the fact you took them first before you even got close to me has caused all sorts of hells!” Leeja’s breathing was ragged as she did her best to calm herself. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to snap. But it doesn’t change my mind on this.” “I understand. However, they were not the object of my summons...their transference was...incomplete. Though they may appear to possess corporeal bodies, they are, in truth, merely spirits that one can see and touch.” That made it even worse. She felt nauseous and guilty, though it wasn’t her fault. Had things gone well, it would just have been her spirited away. They continued to talk and Leeja learned more about what the Scions had been doing in their years away.

After the brief history lesson and the catchup, the Exarch took Leeja through the markets and to the summoning bell. “You shall need a means to access the commodities of your home world…” The Exarch looked up and spoke in a strange language. He caught Leeja’s confused look. “Hm?” “Ah, language of the Fae folk. When you reconnect with Urianger, he should be able to regale you with the language.” He smiled as she raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I'm here, of course I'm here! What amusements do you have for me today?” A small being appeared from thin air. A fiery orange being with black and pink wings and very excited to be there. “My dear Feo Ul, paragon of pixie-kind. For you, I have the most vital task. This fine lady is a friend from a distant realm. And we have need of a means to ferry things back and forth from her home. Might you be able to...assist us in this matter?” The pixie flew around Leeja, seemingly examining her. They were excited to learn she came from beyond the rift and had everything arrive intact with her.  “From this moment forth, I will be your [beautiful branch], and you my [adorable sapling]. Like the branch which sprouts from the sapling, our bond will flow unbroken from one to the other! Raise your hand.” Leeja did as she was told and felt a warmth cover her and then after a moment, it was gone. “'Tis done! We are bound now, dearest sapling.” Leeja chuckled softly and told her to give a message to Tataru, to let her know she was safe and jumped straight into work. After getting her the proper permissions and such, they made their way to the Pendants to get her accommodations sorted.

With the door shut, Leeja took a look around her new home. A fairly decent sized apartment with a bedroom cut off by a sliding door, a kitchenette and dining area toward the further end and a large open area that could be used for anything. In the bedroom area sat a double bed, a dresser in one corner, an en suite with a shower, sink and small shelves that could hold soaps and such. Right in the middle of the apartment a large window with thick, heavy curtains to block out the light that came through, even with the window closed. She walked over and opened the window. “...You...? I know you... You're the Warrior of Light from the Source!” The voice caught her off guard and she turned to look in the direction it came from. She frowned a little as the dark shadow around the intruder fell. Her expression changed to shock when she saw a face from her past. “The Warrior of Darkness? Arbert?” His stunned expression matched her own. “Did you just… You can hear me!?” He could have wept with joy. “Oh, Gods, how long has it been!? Aye, my real name is Ardbert.” “You removed a letter from your name as an alias? Oh, my friend, that is not a smart move.” Leeja smiled softly. “As for how long? I’ve been it’s been one hundred years.”

Leeja didn’t feel angry, seeing him. She wanted to be, but after hearing his tale for what happened after they left the Source after seeing Minfilia once more, any anger she felt melted away. She couldn’t give him pity. It was more sympathy, she could grant him, especially after seeing the fact that he was naught more than a shade. They spoke for a long time until she felt herself beginning to get tired. “I’ll let you rest, but I’ll be watching, Warrior of Light. But do me a favour? Be careful out there, this world has had it’s fill of heroes.” And with that, he was gone. Leeja sighed and shook her head before heading into the bedroom to get some sleep once she closed the window and the heavy curtains. She kicked off her boots, stripped down to her smalls and camise to sleep. She’d have to get a new set of sleeping clothes when she woke up. She climbed under the covers and fell asleep instantly. The sheets were soft, the mattress was comfy and the blankets were warm. It was all she needed for a decent night’s sleep.

Leeja was unsure of the time when she woke up. The bright light outside screwed up her sense of time and it was clearly going to be an issue. She huffed and climbed out of bed, making her way into the en suite and turning on the shower to try and feel somewhat better. Once she had cleaned herself up and eaten breakfast, she got dressed and headed out to look around the Crystarium before meeting with the Exarch. Except she got lost and found herself back in the Musica Universalis once more. Bragi had noticed and walked over to her. “You look lost, my friend. Where are you looking to go?” Leeja’s face burned with embarrassment. “Have you managed to attune to the aetheryte shards around the city?” “Uh… I kind of forgot to when I arrived. But I’m trying to get back to the Crystalline Mean?” Bragi gave her a warm smile and directed her where to go. She thanked him and made her way up slowly, being sure to attune to each aethershard as she went. When she attuned to everything, she needed to head back to meet with the Exarch about where the rest of the Scions had been dispatched to.

“How did you find your new quarters? Did you rest well?” The Exarch greeted her with a smile as she nodded.  “Well enough, thank you.” Leeja stretched and tried to stifle a yawn. “I took the chance to go around the city once more and attune to the aethershards so it’s a little easier to move about.” “Excellent. Right, let us return to the locations of the Scions.” Leeja nodded and crossed her arms as he began to unroll a map of the region. “This is a map shows the lands of Norvrandt the only areas to be spared by the flood. We’re in a region known as Lakeland. To the north is the faerie kingdom of Il Mheg. That is where you will find Urianger. To the east lies the once-prosperous civilization of Rak'tika. Y'shtola is stationed there, in the heart of the forest.” “I take it they’re the easiest to get to?”  “Quite the opposite, I’m afraid. As such, I would suggest you first seek out one of the twins ─ each of whom is stationed but a short flight from the Crystarium. Alphinaud is on Kholusia, an island off the western shore. It is home to a city called Eulmore, where the rich and privileged while away their days in idleness.” The Exarch noticed her frown. “It reminds me so much of home. Ishgard to the north, the Shroud to the east, Thanalan to the south and Limsa to the west.” She chewed the inside of her lip. “I suppose it makes sense, given that it’s a reflection of the Source.” “Indeed. For his part in furthering our cause, Alphinaud journeyed there to meet with the citizenry and forge alliances. From what I hear, he has since kept himself busy gathering information around the main settlement. And before you worry, he’s been keeping himself safe.” The Exarch could sense her worry. “And Alisaie?” “She traveled south to the arid wastes of Amh Araeng. They lie upon the very edge of the inhabitable world, where the Flood of Light was halted. Those who dwell there live in constant fear of attack by the sin eaters.” He noticed her worry once more. Alisaie felt that her energies would better be spent learning about the enemy. And thus she sells her services as a guard, both to hone her skills and gather information on our foe.” “Good. I’ll be interested in learning from the both of them about what’s going on in this world. How do I get to both?” The map was rolled back up and vanished into nothing.  “You’ll need an amaro to get you to either place. Let me write you a note for both that you can present at the flight path.” Leeja nodded and waited patiently. “Be sure you have everything you need, you’ll need it for the challenges ahead.”

[gimmick-thief]

Present:

gimmickblogcompletionist, gimmick-thief (hey that’s me!)

Missing:

a-counter, achivement-unlocked, alphabetstatistician, alphabetuncompletionist, amongus-text-detector, anti-gimmick-thief, are-there-grammar-errors, asciicompletionist, b-counter, biblepercent, c-counter, carbon-monoxide-detector, cat-identifier, cat-spotted, citrus-typos, colortracker, colourpickingpride, contraction-counter, decontextifier, digitcounter, e-counter, eggblackoutpoetry, etho-spotted, free-post-store, gimmick-mimic, gimmick-thief-thief, gimmickbloghunter, gimmickbloghunterhunter, happy-little-painter, hellsite-quotes, hellsitegenetics, hemo-rainbow-completionist, homestuck-word-counter, i-bork-at-you, i-give-amogus-to-people, i-give-chess-piece-to-people, i-meow-at-you, i-reblog-your-post-with-balls, i-remove-color-from-posts, i-say-not-ok, i-say-ok, i-say-quite, i-shelve-posts, i-tag-gimmick-accounts, identifying-cars-in-posts, identifying-cleaning-products, identifying-dinosaurs-in-posts, identifying-guns-in-posts, identifying-horses-in-posts, icompilegimmickblogs, identifyinggimmickblogsinposts, identifyingtrainsinposts, image-inverter, imakecalculatorposts, in-the-bible , is-this-trans, is-your-post-grey, kittybroker, libraryofbabel-postlocator, littleguysdaily, mawile-moment, numberscompletionist, nyan-copies-gimmick-blogs, oedcompletionist, official-boob-posts, ofishal-fish-posts, official-graveyard-posts, orange-content-rater, painting-red, periodiccompletionist, pointless-achievements, pokemonifying-posts, post-eater, post-shooter, post-store, post-uwuifer, postanagramgenerator, postarsonist, posts-i-saw-on-wikipedia, pronouncounter, psychicdamage-identified, punctuation-completionist, raidpainter, rainbow--completionist, random-plant, randomitemdrop, reading-comp-posting, seven-counter, spooky-killer-ooh, swearification-and-cursing, tbh-posts, t-counter, the-agender-painter, the-aroace-painter, the-bazzow-painter, the-bird-painter, the-bisexual-painter, the-blue-painter, the-chaotic-doodle-painter, the-collage-painter, the-deep-fry-painter, the-deep-fryer, the-disemconsonanter, the-disemvoweler, the-doodle-painter, the-duck-painter, the-firey-painter, the-gay-painter, the-ghost-painter, the-glitter-painter, the-green-painter, the-grey-painter, the-gumball-painter, the-high-saturation-painter, the-hoppip-painter, the-howling-painter, the-icy-painter, the-inverted-painter, the-lesbian-painter, the-mew-painter, the-mewtwo-painter, the-mystery-painter, the-not-painter, the-official-verbchanger, the-omori-painter, the-orange-painter, the-pan-painter, the-pink-painter, the-pixel-painter, the-pony-painter, the-post-programmer, the-pride-painter, the-purple-painter, the-rainbow-painter, the-random-painter, the-redpainter, the-reemvoweler, the-sad-painter, the-scaly-painter, the-scribbles-painter, the-space-painter, the-stormy-painter, the-sus-painter, the-teal-painter, the-trans-painter, the-void-painter, the-weezer-painter, the-white-painter, the-xenogender-painter, the-yellow-painter, thecroissantpainter, thegimmickblog, things-that-are-weezer-blue, tsunderedetector, vaati-spies-seeker, voweltally, waterboardingwizard, were-these-words-in-the-bible, wildcard-completionist, woo-in-different-lengths, would-you-survive-in-australia, wurmplespotted yoururlisavalidchumhandle, z-counter

I added a few friends.

My pinned was going to be the current list of gimmick blogs, but every time I reblog a post I end up finding between 5 and 40 more of them so it would never ever be up-to-date.

There are so many...I feel my brain being rent apart....

[cultfaction]

Dustin Diamond passes away aged 44

Dustin Diamond passes away aged 44

It is Cult Faction’s sad duty to report that Screech himself, Dustin Diamond has passed away at the age of 44 years old from Stage 4 lung cancer. Reports indicate Dustin passed away this morning after his condition greatly declined since it was reported last week. He was taken off of breathing machines in an attempt to get him to hospice care. His girlfriend was by his side when he passed…

[missmentelle]

Why Smart People Believe Stupid Things

If you’ve been paying attention for the last couple of years, you might have noticed that the world has a bit of a misinformation problem. 

The problem isn’t just with the recent election conspiracies, either. The last couple of years has brought us the rise (and occasionally fall) of misinformation-based movements like:

Sandy Hook conspiracies

Gamergate

Pizzagate

The MRA/incel/MGTOW movements

anti-vaxxers

flat-earthers

the birther movement

the Illuminati 

climate change denial

Spygate

Holocaust denial 

COVID-19 denial 

5G panic 

QAnon 

But why do people believe this stuff?

It would be easy - too easy - to say that people fall for this stuff because they’re stupid. We all want to believe that smart people like us are immune from being taken in by deranged conspiracies. But it’s just not that simple. People from all walks of life are going down these rabbit holes - people with degrees and professional careers and rich lives have fallen for these theories, leaving their loved ones baffled. Decades-long relationships have splintered this year, as the number of people flocking to these conspiracies out of nowhere reaches a fever pitch. 

So why do smart people start believing some incredibly stupid things? It’s because:

Our brains are built to identify patterns. 

Our brains fucking love puzzles and patterns. This is a well-known phenomenon called apophenia, and at one point, it was probably helpful for our survival - the prehistoric human who noticed patterns in things like animal migration, plant life cycles and the movement of the stars was probably a lot more likely to survive than the human who couldn’t figure out how to use natural clues to navigate or find food. 

The problem, though, is that we can’t really turn this off. Even when we’re presented with completely random data, we’ll see patterns. We see patterns in everything, even when there’s no pattern there. This is why people see Jesus in a burnt piece of toast or get superstitious about hockey playoffs or insist on always playing at a certain slot machine - our brains look for patterns in the constant barrage of random information in our daily lives, and insist that those patterns are really there, even when they’re completely imagined. 

A lot of conspiracy theories have their roots in people making connections between things that aren’t really connected. The belief that “vaccines cause autism” was bolstered by the fact that the first recognizable symptoms of autism happen to appear at roughly the same time that children receive one of their rounds of childhood immunizations - the two things are completely unconnected, but our brains have a hard time letting go of the pattern they see there. Likewise, many people were quick to latch on to the fact that early maps of COVID infections were extremely similar to maps of 5G coverage -  the fact that there’s a reasonable explanation for this (major cities are more likely to have both high COVID cases AND 5G networks) doesn’t change the fact that our brains just really, really want to see a connection there. 

Our brains love proportionality. 

Specifically, our brains like effects to be directly proportional to their causes - in other words, we like it when big events have big causes, and small causes only lead to small events. It’s uncomfortable for us when the reverse is true. And so anytime we feel like a “big” event (celebrity death, global pandemic, your precious child is diagnosed with autism) has a small or unsatisfying cause (car accident, pandemics just sort of happen every few decades, people just get autism sometimes), we sometimes feel the need to start looking around for the bigger, more sinister, “true” cause of that event. 

Consider, for instance, the attempted assassination of Pope John Paul II. In 1981, Pope John Paul II was shot four times by a Turkish member of a known Italian paramilitary secret society who’d recently escaped from prison - on the surface, it seems like the sort of thing conspiracy theorists salivate over, seeing how it was an actual multinational conspiracy. But they never had much interest in the assassination attempt. Why? Because the Pope didn’t die. He recovered from his injuries and went right back to Pope-ing. The event didn’t have a serious outcome, and so people are content with the idea that one extremist carried it out. The death of Princess Diana, however, has been fertile ground for conspiracy theories; even though a woman dying in a car accident is less weird than a man being shot four times by a paid political assassin, her death has attracted more conspiracy theories because it had a bigger outcome. A princess dying in a car accident doesn’t feel big enough. It’s unsatisfying. We want such a monumentous moment in history to have a bigger, more interesting cause. 

These theories prey on pre-existing fear and anger. 

Are you a terrified new parent who wants the best for their child and feels anxious about having them injected with a substance you don’t totally understand? Congrats, you’re a prime target for the anti-vaccine movement. Are you a young white male who doesn’t like seeing more and more games aimed at women and minorities, and is worried that “your” gaming culture is being stolen from you? You might have been very interested in something called Gamergate. Are you a right-wing white person who worries that “your” country and way of life is being stolen by immigrants, non-Christians and coastal liberals? You’re going to love the “all left-wingers are Satantic pedo baby-eaters” messaging of QAnon. 

Misinformation and conspiracy theories are often aimed strategically at the anxieties and fears that people are already experiencing. No one likes being told that their fears are insane or irrational; it’s not hard to see why people gravitate towards communities that say “yes, you were right all along, and everyone who told you that you were nuts to be worried about this is just a dumb sheep. We believe you, and we have evidence that you were right along, right here.” Fear is a powerful motivator, and you can make people believe and do some pretty extreme things if you just keep telling them “yes, that thing you’re afraid of is true, but also it’s way worse than you could have ever imagined.”

Real information is often complicated, hard to understand, and inherently unsatisfying. 

The information that comes from the scientific community is often very frustrating for a layperson; we want science to have hard-and-fast answers, but it doesn’t. The closest you get to a straight answer is often “it depends” or “we don’t know, but we think X might be likely”. Understanding the results of a scientific study with any confidence requires knowing about sampling practices, error types, effect sizes, confidence intervals and publishing biases. Even asking a simple question like “is X bad for my child” will usually get you a complicated, uncertain answer - in most cases, it really just depends. Not understanding complex topics makes people afraid - it makes it hard to trust that they’re being given the right information, and that they’re making the right choices. 

Conspiracy theories and misinformation, on the other hand, are often simple, and they are certain. Vaccines bad. Natural things good. 5G bad. Organic food good. The reason girls won’t date you isn’t a complex combination of your social skills, hygiene, appearance, projected values, personal circumstances, degree of extroversion, luck and life phase - girls won’t date you because feminism is bad, and if we got rid of feminism you’d have a girlfriend. The reason Donald Trump was an unpopular president wasn’t a complex combination of his public bigotry, lack of decorum, lack of qualifications, open incompetence, nepotism, corruption, loss of soft power, refusal to uphold the basic responsibilities of his position or his constant lying - they hated him because he was fighting a secret sex cult and they’re all in it. 

Instead of making you feel stupid because you’re overwhelmed with complex information, expert opinions and uncertain advice, conspiracy theories make you feel smart - smarter, in fact, than everyone who doesn’t believe in them. And that’s a powerful thing for people living in a credential-heavy world. 

Many conspiracy theories are unfalsifiable. 

It is very difficult to prove a negative. If I tell you, for instance, that there’s no such thing as a purple swan, it would be very difficult for me to actually prove that to you - I could spend the rest of my life photographing swans and looking for swans and talking to people who know a lot about swans, and yet the slim possibility would still exist that there was a purple swan out there somewhere that I just hadn’t found yet. That’s why, in most circumstances, the burden of proof lies with the person making the extraordinary claim - if you tell me that purple swans exist, we should continue to assume that they don’t until you actually produce a purple swan. 

Conspiracy theories, however, are built so that it’s nearly impossible to “prove” them wrong. Is there any proof that the world’s top-ranking politicians and celebrities are all in a giant child sex trafficking cult? No. But can you prove that they aren’t in a child sex-trafficking cult? No, not really. Even if I, again, spent the rest of my life investigating celebrities and following celebrities and talking to people who know celebrities, I still couldn’t definitely prove that this cult doesn’t exist - there’s always a chance that the specific celebrities I’ve investigated just aren’t in the cult (but other ones are!) or that they’re hiding evidence of the cult even better than we think. Lack of evidence for a conspiracy theory is always treated as more evidence for the theory - we can’t find anything because this goes even higher up than we think! They’re even more sophisticated at hiding this than we thought! People deeply entrenched in these theories don’t even realize that they are stuck in a circular loop where everything seems to prove their theory right - they just see a mountain of “evidence” for their side. 

Our brains are very attached to information that we “learned” by ourselves.

Learning accurate information is not a particularly interactive or exciting experience. An expert or reliable source just presents the information to you in its entirety, you read or watch the information, and that’s the end of it. You can look for more information or look for clarification of something, but it’s a one-way street - the information is just laid out for you, you take what you need, end of story. 

Conspiracy theories, on the other hand, almost never show their hand all at once. They drop little breadcrumbs of information that slowly lead you where they want you to go. This is why conspiracy theorists are forever telling you to “do your research” - they know that if they tell you everything at once, you won’t believe them. Instead, they want you to indoctrinate yourself slowly over time, by taking the little hints they give you and running off to find or invent evidence that matches that clue. If I tell you that celebrities often wear symbols that identify them as part of a cult and that you should “do your research” about it, you can absolutely find evidence that substantiates my claim - there are literally millions of photos of celebrities out there, and anyone who looks hard enough is guaranteed to find common shapes, poses and themes that might just mean something (they don’t - eyes and triangles are incredibly common design elements, and if I took enough pictures of you, I could also “prove” that you also clearly display symbols that signal you’re in the cult). 

The fact that you “found” the evidence on your own, however, makes it more meaningful to you. We trust ourselves, and we trust that the patterns we uncover by ourselves are true. It doesn’t feel like you’re being fed misinformation - it feels like you’ve discovered an important truth that “they” didn’t want you to find, and you’ll hang onto that for dear life. 

Older people have not learned to be media-literate in a digital world. 

Fifty years ago, not just anyone could access popular media. All of this stuff had a huge barrier to entry - if you wanted to be on TV or be in the papers or have a radio show, you had to be a professional affiliated with a major media brand. Consumers didn’t have easy access to niche communities or alternative information - your sources of information were basically your local paper, the nightly news, and your morning radio show, and they all more or less agreed on the same set of facts. For decades, if it looked official and it appeared in print, you could probably trust that it was true. 

Of course, we live in a very different world today - today, any asshole can accumulate an audience of millions, even if they have no credentials and nothing they say is actually true (like “The Food Babe”, a blogger with no credentials in medicine, nutrition, health sciences, biology or chemistry who peddles health misinformation to the 3 million people who visit her blog every month). It’s very tough for older people (and some younger people) to get their heads around the fact that it’s very easy to create an “official-looking” news source, and that they can’t necessarily trust everything they find on the internet. When you combine that with a tendency toward “clickbait headlines” that often misrepresent the information in the article, you have a generation struggling to determine who they can trust in a media landscape that doesn’t at all resemble the media landscape they once knew. 

These beliefs become a part of someone’s identity. 

A person doesn’t tell you that they believe in anti-vaxx information - they tell you that they ARE an anti-vaxxer. Likewise, people will tell you that they ARE a flat-earther, a birther, or a Gamergater. By design, these beliefs are not meant to be something you have a casual relationship with, like your opinion of pizza toppings or how much you trust local weather forecasts - they are meant to form a core part of your identity. 

And once something becomes a core part of your identity, trying to make you stop believing it becomes almost impossible. Once we’ve formed an initial impression of something, facts just don’t change our minds. If you identify as an antivaxxer and I present evidence that disproves your beliefs, in your mind, I’m not correcting inaccurate information - I am launching a very personal attack against a core part of who you are. In fact, the more evidence I present, the more you will burrow down into your antivaxx beliefs, more confident than ever that you are right. Admitting that you are wrong about something that is important to you is painful, and your brain would prefer to simply deflect conflicting information rather than subject you to that pain.

We can see this at work with something called the confirmation bias. Simply put, once we believe something, our brains hold on to all evidence that that belief is true, and ignore evidence that it’s false. If I show you 100 articles that disprove your pet theory and 3 articles that confirm it, you’ll cling to those 3 articles and forget about the rest. Even if I show you nothing but articles that disprove your theory, you’ll likely go through them and pick out any ambiguous or conflicting information as evidence for “your side”, even if the conclusion of the article shows that you are wrong - our brains simply care about feeling right more than they care about what is actually true.  

There is a strong community aspect to these theories. 

There is no one quite as supportive or as understanding as a conspiracy theorist - provided, of course, that you believe in the same conspiracy theories that they do. People who start looking into these conspiracy theories are told that they aren’t crazy, and that their fears are totally valid. They’re told that the people in their lives who doubted them were just brainwashed sheep, but that they’ve finally found a community of people who get where they’re coming from. Whenever they report back to the group with the “evidence” they’ve found or the new elaborations on the conspiracy theory that they’ve been thinking of (“what if it’s even worse than we thought??”), they are given praise for their valuable contributions. These conspiracy groups often become important parts of people’s social networks - they can spend hours every day talking with like-minded people from these communities and sharing their ideas. 

Of course, the flipside of this is that anyone who starts to doubt or move away from the conspiracy immediately loses that community and social support. People who have broken away from antivaxx and QAnon often say that the hardest part of leaving was losing the community and friendships they’d built - not necessarily giving up on the theory itself. Many people are rejected by their real-life friends and family once they start to get entrenched in conspiracy theories; the friendships they build online in the course of researching these theories often become the only social supports they have left, and losing those supports means having no one to turn to at all. This is by design - the threat of losing your community has kept people trapped in abusive religious sects and cults for as long as those things have existed.