#unwanted indoctrination

[emilija04acer]

Navigating Friendship and Faith: My Recent Experience

Recently, I found myself in a bit of a dilemma involving a close friend and her evangelical church. It all started when she invited me to a wedding celebration at her church. During the event, the preacher mentioned that they had recently discussed turning people to God. At first, I joked about it with my friend, but soon I realized it might not be a joke after all.

She recently invited me to a Christian camp, and I didn’t know how to respond. Initially, I agreed to go, but then I lied, saying my parents wouldn’t pay for it (it costs 70 euros for two days). She was disappointed but later told me that the leader would allow me to come for free or at a very low cost. Now, I feel like I’ve dug myself into a hole.

This situation has been emotionally challenging for me. On one hand, I deeply value my friendship with her. She’s an amazing person, and we share so many interests and experiences. Losing her friendship over this would be heartbreaking. On the other hand, I feel uncomfortable with the pressure to participate in religious activities that don’t align with my beliefs.

To give you some context, I am an atheist. My family background is culturally Catholic and Orthodox, and we only observe religious holidays in a cultural sense. My parents, coming from different denominations, decided not to raise my siblings and me religiously to avoid arguments about our Christian upbringing. This has shaped my perspective and beliefs, making me hesitant to engage in religious activities.

I find myself torn between wanting to be honest with her and fearing that honesty might hurt our friendship. It’s a delicate balance, and I’m struggling to find the right words to express my feelings without causing offense or misunderstanding.

The thought of losing a friend over something like this is really upsetting. I keep questioning whether I’m overthinking the situation or if my concerns are valid. It’s been weighing heavily on my mind, and I wanted to share my experience here in hopes of finding some clarity.

Have any of you faced a similar situation? How did you handle it? I’d love to hear your thoughts and advice.

Update

[cultdollic]

⤷ unpunishable | cult-leader!viktor

synopsis: in which you discover his commune, bound to his false promises, and fallen victim to his own vague, divine religion.

tags: cult-leader!viktor, fem!reader, hints of sexual repression + religious trauma, religious themes, very nosferatu inspired, blasphemy, body worship, loss of virginity, porn w/ plot + feelings, praise kink, slight age difference (viktor in his 30’s, reader in her early 20’s).

You haven’t been a particularly religious girl in years — you’ve learned to not leave yourself out as vulnerable to be binded by the barbed thorns of religion, stripping you down of your morality and leaving only a shell of a devout to false saviors.

The last time you’ve ever been so deeply rooted with the tangles of religiosity was a recollection left vacant, to slowly wither and die at the back of your head. You were pubescent, fraught with aspects of complex emotions and naivety, knees found usually bruised from the excessive nights you spent kneeling at the side of your bed, hands clasped in desperate prayer, longing for solace to ease your profound loneliness.

At the time, you weren’t exactly sure who you were calling out to, what type of presence you had wanted your plea to be answered from, but you were desperate for something, anything. It became a revolving cycle — spend restless evenings locked in prayer, cheeks stained of molten tears, begging for a remedy for your tormented self.

And even though you’ve somewhat matured, growing out of unhealthy habits and constant indoctrination, you found it difficult to look religious figures right in the eye, to find that once original holy appeal churches once permeated when there was this underlying guilt and isolation bound deep down in your innards.

Now, there are whispers of an imminent undercity messiah gracing the tongues of those caught beneath his influence, Zaunites and Piltovans alike. Faith once more biting you back at the flesh, an unwanted parasite. He is said to make promises — pseudo promises, you choose to believe — about healing, conversion to perfection, something like that. It’s natural temptation, a change in tactics to flourish his commune.

You wouldn’t be lying if you weren’t just the slightest bit impressed by the seduction of his silver tongue. All those swallowed-down burdens of yours, subconsciously, willingly, succumbing to his temptations; being drawn to the allure. You were stuck in some sort of bondage, like trapped between sheets, and was persistently pushing, pulling, trying to get loose and emancipate yourself from them.

Well — his promises were getting to you, whether you liked it or not. Caging you in, tearing you apart, ripping you open.

So, part of you was glad when the repercussions of your urges pushed you over an edge. You hated the idea of reaching out for help, of course, but you were growing as desperate as ever. Life was on a turmoil, and you couldn’t keep acting like the weight placed on you wasn’t putting you through internal conflict.

It was a clear trajectory of punishment. Salvation was clearly out of the picture at this point, maybe.

His sanctuary was a clean facade contrasting against the rest of Zaun, impersonal and abundant of cult-ish life. There was a flourish of flora and crops, in his followers — it gave you the creeps, undoubtedly, wondering just how many of these people have been blessed by their messiah’s very hand; how many imperfections, sins, have been dissipated to create their ideal persons.

Lobotomized figures were the result, a sight you seemed to take notice of the more you found yourself wandering deeper into his commune. It’s like they had no sense of thought for themselves, nothing going one in that head of theirs, solely dictated by the one they’ve fallen under. You’re sure it was for their own sake, you just found it… unsettling for sure.

Then you see him there — reaffirming his status as these people’s one true savior among a small crowd. He’s tall and lanky, skin so pale you’re making the assumption he’s most likely an anemic. A robe of darkened blue spirals around him, kept in place with golden accents and thinned ropes, making no effort to cover up his graying, metal flesh. He’s divine machinery.

The sight itself was sacred enough, he was sacred enough.

A few last of his disciples wander away after some time, aimlessly, stiff as boards but nonetheless healed at last; further vitalizing themselves — body and soul — into the commune’s hungering mouth. And all the while, you were still someone left tainted. Being the only last impure one felt pitiful, gave you a sensation of dull solitude, a mournful lamb to the slaughter. He assures to not pass a blind eye to this.

The Herald — Viktor, if you wanted to gaze at him through a lens of assuring humanity — looms above. You couldn’t exactly gaze at him yet, because it felt shameful. You were such filth, and here he was as something so raw and holy. But you didn’t fight back. You surrendered almost completely, because you genuinely couldn’t bear your weight anymore.

“You are tortured,” he finally comments in monotone, no way scrutinizing, though alternatively gentle. “I can see it there, all your senseless pain.”

You shift your gaze and blink up at him in silence, swallowing a protruding lump at your throat. “My mind… it’s in pieces.” you respond timidly, a hint of confirmation in your tone.

Eyes of infinite depth meet each other in a mutual bond, strangely intimate on the sidelines. His metallic-ridden hand comes to brush against your cheek with the backside — he shares a simultaneous sensation of cold, unfeeling metal and remnant human warmth, skin taut to the touch.

“In pieces, indeed,” Viktor’s big on physical touch, especially evident when resting his palm shamelessly against the side of your face now. “How long have you carried such burdens?”

“Since I was a girl,” you say, instinctively leaning into his palm, savoring the warmth against your touch-starved features. “I’ve endlessly tried to be at peace, but my prayers have been left abandoned, unanswered.”

He stares blankly, yet so forgivingly. “I can see that within you, there’s so much isolation… and something else.”

“Something else?” you question, curious confusion laced in your tone.

“Yes, you are full of all sorts of subdued feelings,” he said. “a repressed libido, it seems. A hungering desire you have deep down.”

Purity was a concept preached spanning throughout nearly your entire life. It was all you never knew, all you ever abided by as a result of the fearful repercussions of what if — the interior paranoia of being ruined, blemished to the core. In spite of its sacrilegious nature — sworn by Viktor’s vision — you truly, blatantly, did suppress yourself of your sexuality.

A soft breath draws from you. “Can… can you help me?” your shrunk tone betrays the desperation behind your plea.

Viktor merely gives a simple nod of his head after a moment of brief thought, moving the hand at your cheek down along the ridges of your pliable body, ultimately resting at the arch of your lower back. He walks you along a path with guidance and into a spheric structure, his own personal sanctum, hidden away from the leering eyes of his own devotees.

“Human intimacy is the most sacred healing practice of all in your case,” he said, taking both of your hands into his and shrouding over them largely with cupped fingers. “this is not my most preferred method of healing, but I’ve seen what wonders it can do.”

He breathes audibly in a muted cacophony of obsession, keeping your hands confined in his. You share an ever-growing mutual desire, and it is evident in both sets of eyes, no longer veiled to either knowledge.

Viktor is ethereal from this point of view, the blinding pale glow of his sanctum silhouetting his brunette-flaxen strands, forming a gentle halo there. His face is defined of etched lines and sloped on the sides, hollowed in with two beauty marks complimenting the curve of his cheek and lips, his eyes of amber emitting reassurance and tranquility. His looks by itself were enough to act as a natural allure — the birth of an unhealthy, all-consuming infatuation that you were starting to think was beyond his abilities of healing.

A single tear — brought forth not from your pains, but of relief, of being at his mercy — cascades from your eye’s waterline and down the slant of your face. A temporary solace settles itself through the blood rushing in your veins.

You succumb to an embrace with one another. His grasp is overwhelming, foreign, tender. His height towers over your own, your head tilted back to preserve eye contact. Vulnerability inhabits your gaze, doe eyes like those of a preyed fawn — as opposed to his more composed, potent one.

One of his hands, quivering with the sheer pressure of the circumstances, cradles at the right side of your face, his thumb sliding along the contour of your jaw and resting at the exact edge of it. He uses his thumb at your chin to slope your head back further, faces barely touching, heavy breaths resonating.

As if his jaw unhinges itself, Viktor’s lips part widely, moving down onto yours in an unforeseen, hungering movement. His deep, fervent kisses betray his composure — they give way to his carnal sensuality, as do your own. Your lips were just as desperate despite your inexperience, sending yourself down on a spiral of constant intimacy and the way he seems to feed on your repressed sexual appetites. It is ecstasy for both of you.

It takes strength and hesitation for him to leisurely pull his lips from yours after a lengthy sequence of your entanglement. Unadulterated passion in its truest form is apparent in how he gazes upon you, eyes downcast and brimming of intensity, chest heaving with his exhaling breaths while his hand glides down your cheek, savoring the feel of your smooth flesh — even the holiest of figures have their own needs.

You feel obsessively drawn to him, pupils completely dilated like he’s got you entwined within a reverie. His enigmatic, saintlike presence envelops you whole, and you can’t help but feel compelled towards him. Attempts of resisting were proven easily futile.

“You tempt me,” you whisper in frailty, “for a man so holy, you are nothing but sin.”

“It is not me, it is of your own nature.” he responds breathily.

“I refuse to believe that…” your voice is kept hushed, a hint of self-remorse twinging below.

“You have been lead astray since youth, restrained to eternal sorrow, calling out to your god for a remedy and finding such thing in me,” he said, “an Eve that remembers her Eden.”

You instinctively clench your thighs together. Eyes lost in the depth of his. An inner compulsion telling you, urging you, to give in. And if that’s the inborn tendencies your body abides by, then that’s what it shall be conceded in satisfaction.

“Would you really be able to grant salvation?” you ask, feeling captivated.

“Yes.” he says promisingly, hiding behind no lie.

“Please,” you say, without knowing quite what you mean, but your desperation is becoming thinly veiled and it needed to be put to ease. There is no shame in how you sink to your knees, crawl to him, grab at his legs firmly, at last placing your cheek against his robed thigh as you slowly glanced up at him from below. “you have no idea how much I yearn for relief.”

For the first time, Viktor stills with conflict at your sudden show of boldness — he no longer was overridden with self-collection. In a way, he was startled, a sense of reality crawling back to him the longer you stayed at his feet, sentient to your warm body rubbing up against his legs. He tries to overcome this arousing conflict, the thought of him being this desired made him feel lightheaded, swelled in the head. And to think, who else was able to undo that calculated, kind image he's put up for himself? Did he ever have the time to tear his walls down, lay himself bare with another before?

His widened eyes only gape at you, eyebrows furrowed in a guise of indecision. Viktor has managed to resist his personal impulses in succession, keeping them at bay for a proper time, but it was temporary — dreadfully, and he knew of it. His sole need for you has grown greater than his own ethics, betraying his rational-self and consuming each moral.

After all, he was a man before whatever god he was metamorphosing himself out to be.

Brimming with a lack of his crumbling self-restraint, he uses his free hand to lay you out properly on the flat plane of a makeshift altar with a grasp on your waist, forged from the Anamoly’s very essence which encases his sanctum as well; plump of rigor mortis-esque flesh matter and various punctured holes and in aspect, was quite grotesque, albeit sanctified. Truly, you feel like a doll at his hand, and so absorbed by his single-minded concentration that you’re at a loss of words. This was right. It was something that felt undoubtedly right for the first time in your life.

In what seems to be an act of sacrilege, his staff is left abandoned and leaned on the altar, hands kissing hymns up your sides, lifting the delicate lace robes bunched at your ankles above your head, undressing you to nudity and having the concealing collection of cloth discarded to the lowly ground. He’s so careful with you; he caresses the side of your thigh, sprawls your fingers open to the palm, squeezes your hand gently.

You remained docile and still, indulging in silent observation of how he assumes an assertive stature over you — he is also quiet, but the silence had brought ease. It caged and liberated you at the same time; there really was nobody else to confide in with your problems, but Viktor. You found him erotic, terrifying, and confusing like he was the divine entity you’ve been calling out to for years on end; that might as well been the case.

“As our spirits are one,” he pauses, and lets his fingertips trace the upper part of your chest, gliding over peeked collarbones, “so too our flesh shall be.”

Something overcomes him, and you as well. Mutually possessed with a devouring, rampant sensuality. It makes the air feel thicker, dense and humid. Your desire is telegraphed in the way which your hand entwines at the back of his hair, fingers dug into his scalp, guiding him to the side of your neck. At first, it was only mere teeth to graze against your flesh — building up into wet, meticulous kisses.

Your lashes twitch, hips rising pathetically against the area of his still-clothed abdomen. He was giving you the bare minimum, and here you were absolutely losing yourself. That’s what happens to years worth of pent-up, stigmatizing lust at its freedom; worsens your deepest longings and has you revel in the silhouette of your shame and bursting self-appetites.

With this uprise of lust comes courage, to be free of your contrition, and it came to you — that Viktor was the one to grace you of much-needed salvation. After so many years of impatience, of losing hope, you have found sanctuary as he did for his own self. Him — in a physical sense, a commune where he could play savior, nourish his god-complex. You — in him, he was the embodiment of sanctuary, almost a near manifestation of what you’ve yearned for.

Using your hand planted at his scalp, you push his head downwards from your neck on a path that ends him up at one of your breasts. “Here… I want you here,” you say, whispering and breathlessly, “kiss me here, at my heart.”

He, full of his own emancipated, feral wants, complies with no further reluctance. Pillowy lips suffocate your breast under a dichotomy between ravenous and gentleness, ghosting the skin over with euphoric traces of his love. And you suck in a breath, clutching the locks at the back of his head, your sounds no longer subtle — just about animalistic.

Viktor’s on his knees in the midst of your spread legs, has you laying there like something sacrificial. Holy is what it made you felt; not impure, not defiled, but holy. For once, you had felt wanted and worth of something so intimate as another’s love, of worship. It may have been perversion, sure, but god, you have never felt so seen before.

His wetted lips detach from your breast and trails kisses down your mid-torso, navel, and then right between your legs. He must likes what he sees, for he immediately presses a kiss against your pelvic bone — stabilizing your hips using two hands grasped hands on either side.

“You are truly a lovely thing,” Viktor comments sincerely, drawing circles into the downward curves of your hips. “a vision of saintly beauty, unlike anything I have ever seen before.”

A feverish flush blooms across your cheeks at the unexpected praise. “And you, you are my one god, you are my deliverance from my suppression.”

His complex must be bursting at the seams, and your intuitions are confirmed when he delves down — perhaps in thanks of your unhealthy encouragement — and spreads your folds apart with an index and pointer. Your insides twist, hand moving over your mouth, your face; you want to hide from the sheer exposure.

"Let our love be seen." you finally say breathlessly, possessed and overcome with a devouring, rampant sensuality.

He decides himself, so generously, that his fingers weren’t meeting your needs; gaunt face shoved between your legs as if never taught manners, sliding the width of his tongue over your pussy. There really isn’t a settled rhythm to him, or any kind of even tempo. Just kind of slobbers down there, poking deep in your velvety crevices and savoring the peachy, euphoric taste — it’s not like you really cared much for it, though. Experience was far beyond either you or his knowledge, so you’d figure to just learn along the way.

The only experienced-like characteristic to him is how he keeps your legs spread, a firm gripping hand on your thigh, the other splayed across your stomach — you presume its warm, comforting presence is to abide with its feverish, arousing counterpart.

But soon the comfort is a concept which gradually slips your mind, and your head’s all clouded over. Reaching a hand down, your fingers pet at his head, then entangles in a fist for leverage. Soft mewls bubbles up from your throat, head knocked against the altar, eyes squinted just right to maintain a view on his striking face. He mouths excessively at your slit, swirling the tip at your buzzing clit.

It doesn’t take a lot more for you to build up to a climax after that — because you’re an amateur at this of thing, and he’s, in all honesty, set the standard that no man, no being, could ever replicate his unforeseen efficiency. Squinted eyes roll back into your skull as he continues slurping away, lips smacking noisily, tongue fucking in and out of your tight hole.

Your hips arch up despite his fastened grasp which moved from your thigh, legs quivering erratically like a woman possessed, your control slipping by the second. You knew it was bound to happen when your pussy gushes all over him like a burst pipe. “There you go, my dearest,” Viktor hums, giving your clit one last kiss for good measure. Pulling back from your slick-ruined thighs, his face was glistening, enhancing his otherworldly beauty tenfold — as if you already couldn’t get enough of him.

Exhaustion was foreign now apparently, so there was more from where that came from. You already had him so worked up, so why wouldn’t he take it a step further and indulge in more of that reciprocated, unexplored lust? His cock protruded obscenely through his robes, pre-cum smearing around the blunt head, and it’s downright relief when he finally discards them carelessly to pool at his feet, kicked to the side.

Both of Viktor’s hands are back to support at your sides, caressing your sides for a moment, and tugging you closer to the edge as his slender hips easily slide in the middle of your indecently spread legs. Blinking your squeezed eyes open, they meet his, and the intimacy seems to amplify — this moment you’ve kept yourself in prayer in for hours on end, hopelessly longing to happen one day, a profane salvation, on the borderlines is just about met by a saint-like, almost godly, presence; it is he who answered your pleas.

He carefully eases himself inside of you in no time, being mindful of your first time and feeding his inches into your tightness with a necessary caution. You wince slightly, a soft grunt coming from behind your lips at the initial sharpness of the sensation, soon evolving into that familiar harmony of sweet, blissful moans once things starts adjusting properly. It’s everything you’ve ever dreamed of, admired from the deepest fissures of your perverse mind. You got what you wanted.

Viktor stands over you then gets himself closer, leaning over your body, past his divinity and he looks almost boyish from this angle, sweating, rapturous, ease creeping out. “Tell me you love me,” he says, wildly hungry, finding your palms to slide his over with and fasten fingers with. He looks at you without restraint, no godliness, yet something of a human’s carnality.

“I love you.” you tell him without hesitation, giving his hands a squeeze and slipping an arm away to hook around his left shoulder, holding him close to the point your breaths ghost over one another, and figuring it would be more romantic this way, (you didn’t actually know that though, just picking up what you’ve seen from the films).

Back and forth is what his moving hips preserve righteously, sliding through the warm enclosure of flesh. You feel each realistic detail to him — his amalgamating metallic, human flesh sheen with perspiration, the blunt head of his cock nudging against your cervix as it accompanies every prudent thrust, the brush of cascading brunette locks caging your face in with his forward-inclining head, his lips pressing, ironically, chaste kisses to your throat’s central column.

The air around the sanctum grows moist, heavy on your pleasurably overwhelmed form. “You’re wonderful, like an angel,” he responds, accent thickened and voice strained while working himself faster accompanied by labored breaths, “I never knew love could be so beautiful.”

Your nails drag over the back of his shoulder, “We found each other, and that’s all that matters.” heat coils deliciously at your lower belly, and you can’t help but spread yourself wider for him, heels sunken into his mid-back, pathetically meeting his movements halfway and resolving the brief negligence of your clit. It’s all wet and deeply messy, but the both of you carelessly revel in it without a care, even as the shared arousal pools at the bottoms of your thighs, an evident puddle forming on the altar. Some offering it was.

Viktor fucks into your pussy like a stray, feral dog, unable to help himself. You get it. When you’re a sexually repressed cult leader that devotes himself to a clean-slated life and encounter an equally sexually repressed woman, it’s not easy to hold yourself back when presented with a source of alleviation. Because moreover, he could devote himself to something else that’s not based around faith — a woman is the closest thing to a god, perhaps closer than him.

All pleasure’s gone rampant since he’s bottomed out in your guts, feeling him twitch each time you tighten around him, a desperate palm pressing down on your heaving breasts. Taking what he gives you feels right, to be unmoving and so aroused, a naturally given tendency. It’s consistently pleasurable suffocation, stimulating your body in pure physical filth to match the vulgar smacks of conjoined skin reverberating off the hollow walls.

Slipping a trail down your upper anatomy, his calloused fingers did not halt their giving. Rather, drawing taut circles against the sensitivity of your clit just enough to make you tense up, moaning so profoundly that it scares yourself. You near blackout when Viktor practically forces you into succumbing to another orgasm. Black spots cloud your vision, chipping away at what was left in your peripheral. Your nails dig into his paled skin, finding purchase there in a subtle pain, but he’s able to put up with that as his subconscious was most likely elsewhere.

His drenched navel and lower stomach is the first thing to notice once you’ve blinked your vision back to normal. A vision — simultaneously complimenting, defiling his already-intact godliness. From his lips, an audible sigh escapes and reaches your ears despite the relentless, unforgiving thumps of your erratic heartbeat echoing in the hollow shells. He cums inside following some few shallow thrusts, and you savor the intoxicating warmth as much as possible. You feel whole.

Viktor’s softening cock slips out of you once he’s spent, collapsing onto what space was left next to you on the altar. He stares at the hole-filled ceiling blankly, not knowing if you hadn’t watched him do it. You’re mesmerized, and can’t help but gape at him in a silent awe. The longer you observe, the more he utterly captivates you. A slight embarrassment rushes through once he becomes aware of your staring, though, it dissolves into reassurance as he stares back with an identical captivation. There’s something you haven’t seen from him before, a trace of unadulterated romanticism, presumably.

Shifting onto his side, he faces you, and abruptly engulfs you into the cocoon of his enveloping arms. The profuse stench of sweat and an underlying musk smothers your nostrils, he smells of a man, and you don’t really mind. You’re burrowing your head against his collarbones, almost as if trying to get under his skin — to be much closer, to be one with him. Love is not always celibate and sugar-coated. None of that sickly tender nonsense; pathetically tongued kisses and almost vacant affection. Preferably, it leans more on being all-consuming, holding and devouring you down, just as how Viktor's love does to you.

You embrace like real lovers in the remoteness of his sanctum, a stark contrast to the sheer hungering that had transpired no longer than a few minutes ago. Contentment oozes into the cracks which shaped that previous suppression, and a weight, a possession, has been lifted off the both of you.

"Have I been saved?" you ask of him, breaking the silence. It's spoken quite meekly, yet full of desired hope.

He thinks, lips pressed into a thinned line before warming into a faint, sincere smile. "Not just you, but I as well," his hand caresses the side of your face, and you lean your cheek into it with no regrets. "I have made great sacrifices to heal, to lead, but never to love."

"Perhaps that's my salvation to you, or rather, us," you said, blinking at him through your lashes with a smile. "to not worship or devote, but something much more."

[greenerteacups]

Thoughts on Voldy & Bella's secret love* child according to JKR?

*love used here in the colloquial, not literal, sense of the word.

Anything in the Cursed Child is extracanonical to me, in the same way the movies and Pottermore are extracanonical. At best, they're a different canon — but they're a canon that doesn't really make sense unless you assume the books are true, because the movies don't have time to explain everything from the books, so you end up with this stacked-ziggurat of canon with the books on the bottom and everything else sort of piled on top of them, sometimes more cohesively than others. Easier to just draw the line at the OG series, in my opinion (also I think it's the best work).

My take on the Cursed Child, for what it's worth, is that Rowling was barely involved in the scriptwriting. My argument is basically that none of the major decisions have her signature on them, or even look like she was involved. Secret time-traveling lovechild of the original villain? Harry bad father arc? Harry + Hermione cheating arc?? Sorry, she would never. The books are often campy and ridiculous, but they're not that kind of campy and ridiculous. Most importantly, their level of camp and ridiculousness never makes the heroes look that bad. Harry, in particular, is generally above moral reproach. In his relationships with Cho and Ginny, he's usually trying to do what's in their best interest, and we never get hints of infidelity there. When Ron has a vision of Harry/Hermione in the horcrux, Harry immediately consoles him and goes "she's like my sister," which the narrative gives us every reason to believe is true. Remus tries to walk out on his kid and Harry immediately hands him his ass on a plate. Rowling clearly adores Harry, and while she lets him fail and put his foot in his mouth, she doesn't let him fuck up so badly we might doubt his moral fiber. Which makes sense! He's a children's book protagonist. But Rowling would never write that boy telling his son he's unwanted, regardless of whether it's an interesting/believable character decision. So I don't read her anywhere in the Cursed Child text, especially not in the decision to sexualize Voldemort's relationship with Bellatrix. Importantly, I don't think it's unlikely because it's creepy: it's unlikely because that's not the flavor of creepy that Rowling usually likes for her villains. Greyback is the seediest villain in her cast; the rest of them are sort of chaste, buttoned-up fascist types, and any sexual facet of the Death Eaters' relationships to each other is underplayed (again, no shit — children's book!)

The fucked thing about the Bellamort lovechild, from a writing perspective, is that it's not like... a terrible decision? I could fuck with it, frankly, if it was handled better. There's a ton of red flags peppered around the Bella/Voldemort relationship, particularly in the way she reads as way more culty than any of the other Death Eaters do. The age gap also means that for the timelines to work, she had to meet Voldemort, a 40-something man, when she was a late teenager/early 20-something, and then pretty much immediately dedicate her life to him. There's a very creepy story written between the lines there, I do not actually think it's much of a stretch to suggest she was seduced (groomed) and indoctrinated. Cults are infamously nesting grounds for sexual abuse. The central node of her relationship with Voldemort is of a young woman being slavishly devoted to an older man. But the play doesn't explore that idea at all, because the concept of Voldemort's daughter is basically just crap-TV sequel fodder to evoke the big bad without a dumbshit "somehow, Palpatine returned" moment. Like. Fine concept! No execution.

[jeonscatalyst]

Hello there, I am new to this platform. I am so happy I found your blog. I love the way you write and tackle different topics in regard to Jikook. I also appreciate how you never put any other members down just to prove your point.

I started out as a Taekooker, and that was because I spent most of my time on tiktok, Instagram, and YouTube. I had no idea that what I was watching was heavily edited stuff, and most of the edits even Incude fake text. Stuff that neither Tae nor Jungkook even said. I was so convinced the edits were real. Then, somehow, I stumbled upon jikook videos. My stomach sank, there was something, I felt something but I couldn't explain it. It was a gut feeling. I, however, didn't want to admit Jikook was real. So I gave up on shipping all together. Then, one day, I stumbled upon a Jikook analysis on YT. Then GFC in Tokyo. That was a done deal for me. I went back to the edited videos of Taekook, researched original content, and realized it's all been lies. On that day, I gave up Taekook, and don't get me wrong. I love their friendship. I just gave up on the possibility of them being a couple. But after GCF in Tokyo, Saipan, and Are you sure (this is just to name a few). There is plenty of evidence pointing at them as the real deal. I 1000% believe Jikook is the real couple.

Hey anon,

Welcome to tumblr and I really hope you are enjoying it here so far.

Many fans were first introduced to shipping through heavily manipulated videos shared on YouTube and other platforms by Taekookers. When new fans join the fandom, they often turn to YouTube to learn more about the members, and the algorithm is very effective at pushing Taekook edits their way, making them hard to avoid. While Taekookers may lack in many areas, they excel at editing videos to push a particular narrative.

For years, Taekookers relied on those tactics to sustain their theories, even when there was little to no interaction between Taehyung and Jungkook. Ironically, they now claim to hate (or pretend to hate) company content, yet for years, company content was the only way they could see Taekook interact. They would overanalyze and sensationalize every small interaction captured in official content because they had no other material to work with. The solo era atleast for the first time helped them take a little break from making up numerous outings and sightings of Taekook lol.

Taekookers are also master storytellers. They skillfully weave angst into their narratives, as it seems to resonate deeply with their audience. Their recurring theme often portrays two helpless individuals, deeply in love but trapped in a homophobic society, suppressed by a company intent on keeping them apart. One of them, they claim, is forced into unwanted fanservice with another member, while the other suffers silently, watching in pain. Stories like these evoke strong emotions, draw people in, and create a sense of duty to “support their love.” Many Taekookers are simply misguided, and those who direct their hatred at Jimin often do so because they genuinely believe he is an obstacle or even malicious….beliefs fueled by manipulative YouTube videos and the indoctrination of their “cult leaders.”

When people describe Taekookers as cult-like, they’re not exaggerating. Many behave as though they’ve been brainwashed. Whenever an outsider or even a BTS member says or does something that could challenge the reality of Taekook, they immediately create excuses, even going as far as calling them liars. What’s most baffling is that none of them seem to step back and question these contradictions. For instance, the entire Taekooker community firmly believes that, in documentaries showing moments when Jungkook was ill or injured, the company deliberately prevented Taehyung from being by his side and instead sent Jimin to “feed shippers.” They genuinely believe this and even provide so-called “proof.” It’s remarkable how quickly they come up with new ways to reinforce their beliefs, even twisting narratives or calling Tae and Jungkook themselves liars when their version of events doesn’t align. This is how they’ve coped for years, and much of it stems from YouTube and manipulated edits.

In contrast, those who believe there may be something more between Jimin and Jungkook tend to approach things more logically. And I’m not saying this just because I’m a Jikooker. Taekook is easy to fall into. Their interactions are light, straightforward, and wholesome…there’s nothing particularly complex about them (beyond the complications added by shippers). Their behavior doesn’t align with the dramatic, secretive love story Taekookers promote. There’s no visible panic, hesitation, or anything that suggests they’re hiding something. Taekook’s dynamic is effortless, which is one of the main reasons I’ve never believed there was anything romantic between them.

Jikook, on the other hand, is far more nuanced and layered. Their interactions are filled with complexities and subtleties that require experience and logical thinking to fully grasp. When you consider their circumstances and everything they’ve likely endured over the years, their dynamic and actions make so much sense. It feels deeper and more meaningful. Personally, while I’m not 100% certain that Jikook are a couple, I’m certain their relationship..whatever it may be, hasn’t always been purely platonic.

[amurih]

Fuck it ima put it out anyway.

COTL AU where instead of staying in the cult Narinder leaves and builds his own little plot of land that becomes a rare occurrence you find while crusading through the different biomes post game.

Like it starts off when the lamb like spares Narinder and he’s like sent to the cult. And is in such a state of shock and bewilderment of what just happened that he doesn’t really know that the lamb is setting up their wedding until he’s at the alter. And he just SNAPS. To trade one prison for another? And to be stuck with the same being that not only took your crown, but your title as the god of death as your jailer? No thank you. Proceeds to walk out while the service is still going.

(I’m not the kind of person to think that he would be murdering or plotting to kill the lamb at every turn or possibly. No I would think that Narinder is smart enough to realize that he cannot fight the lamb in the condition that he is reduced to.)

Anyway, I want Narinder to experience life post-godhood by himself outside the cult. Maybe progressing over time you see how his plot of land develops into a pretty nice home for himself complete with a garden and an actual building/house. Not a hut, but an actual house.

All the while the lamb is going through it. It’s normal game play like one would post Narinder fight. Lore, upgrades, reviving the bishops, mystic seller, etc. All the while experiencing the highs and lows of ascension. I think the lamb would ask the other bishops once they get indoctrinated of how they went through their ascensions went. Only they would tell them that each went through theirs differently, so in the end it wasn’t really helpful.

So going through a process that you have no idea how to get through and the only person who does has fuck off into the land and hates your guts. Really fucking sucks man. So they try to “catch” Narinder while out crusading. Only they don’t find him physically, they find his place of residence while he is away.

I thought of a way to incorporate the quests that Narinder gives you when he is usually established in the cult. Could still be used: like there’s a book left on a table where you could peak in and see what’s going on with the cat that is currently away from his house.

“ I should head to Darkwoods and see if I can find more materials to build that fence and make more paper. Moving materials from one abandon home stead to this place has been challenging enough. My arms hurt after years of being bound to one position for so long...I wonder if camellias still bloom there now that Leshy is gone? If not I’ll have to develop a new alternative for this persistent strain and sharp pains I keep having. Got to get these walls up before it starts raining.”

“Bah! There’s not enough food at the last abandoned settlement let alone seeds. It’ll take long of a walk all the way to smuggler’s cove just to see if that sea louse got any thing. And it hasn’t been that long since the depletion of fish at pilgrim’s passage. I would have just stuck to what vegetables and berries I’ve got growing, but some animal or heratic keeps getting into my garden and stealing my food!when I find the person or thing that is stealing from me I’m going to make them into my fertilizer. In the meantime I should look into Anura and see if those foul mushrooms are still there. If I remember they are just as foul as Hecket when she would screamed about being hungry during dinner…Those should hold me over until I get this unwanted pest under control.”

“The wind and rain coming in through the holes on the side of the house that I use to see if any heretics come to kill me, has gotten too much. I’m tired of having to clean up the puddles of water that enters the home. And the curtains don’t do much in terms of trying to block both of these elements.That stupid squid Kallamar doesn’t need his crystals now that he’s gone. It didn’t help him when trying to hide from me. I’ll go to Anchordeep tomorrow and get some to make crystal windows. They sure would make it more beautiful than their temple…”

“Finally the loom is ready. It’s been a such a long time since I had decent robes. It’s easy to find cotton, but what I really want is a nice, soft, silk robe. One that doesn’t rub against these scars preferably. I miss the old one Shamura they made with their silk. But, that one got destroyed in the fight with that damn vessel. Maybe there is some in Silk Cradle. ”

(I’ll come back to this when I flesh it out more via work time daydreams)

[damnfandomproblems]

#7342 - Okay so i do think this is where a lot of people get it wrong.

Pedophilia ≠ Predator

Pedophilia is a disorder where someone is involuntarily attracted to minors, which is why you see the arguments of people trying to validate it as a "real sexuality" because so is being lesbian/bi/gay/etcetc which they really shouldn't even remotely compare for reasons I'll elaborate on in a second and is honestly horrifically manipulative, frankly I consider it worse than child predation to be essentially encouraging/convincing people who suffer from this disorder to act upon their involuntary attraction. Caused well, It creates predators.

Anyway—the big reason that pedophilia shouldn't be remotely considered a "valid sexuality" is because the target of that attraction cannot consent. And if you do think minors can consent, seek help.

Overall, and this will be the more, way more controversial take that I know people will have a knee jerk reaction to. Pedophilia, as a disorder, NEEDS to be destigmatized for the safety of everyone.

If a disorder is so horrifically stigmatized people will be scared to seek treatment, therefore will never be able to manage it, making it worse. We've seen this happen especially with cluster-b disorders.

If we destigmatize the disorder, encourage people suffering from it to get help instead of falling into these harmful anti-recovery communities that indoctrinate them into potentially predating on children, be able to research the disorder on a deeper level to treat it even more effectively. We could potentially significantly reduce CSA.

(This also extends to zoophilia as well.)

And to anyone out there suffering from these disorders: seek help, if you're not able to afford therapy or any of the sorts, or just scared to, research into techniques that could help you, it doesn't necessarily have to be specifically for pedophilia, techniques for OCD could also significantly help on a similar level anything that focuses on unwanted/intrusive thoughts, there are resources out there for you.

Posting as a response to a previous problem.

[gilverrwrites]

this isn't really a request but what draws you to hal jordan? i've always been a jason fan but he's been really interesting me lately and i wonder what you like about his character, and how you put that in your writing? sorry if this is weird, but i love how you speak on the characters you write and your writing in general :3

I appreciate you asking this, and I hope you keep looking into Hal because I do think he's an interesting, and very underrated character at least within fandom space. But this seems an odd question to ask me specifically as I've only ever written one headcanon, and a match-up for him. I haven't written about him enough to have a grip on what exactly about him works for me on paper (or screen).

However, I want to write more about him going forward so i’ll try and surmise what I like about him.

Disclaimers: I am hangging out of my ass rn. A lot of my understanding of Hal comes from pre-2011 and obviously this is just my personal view of the character.

As a Hero, I like that he's kinda different in his orgin to most. He didn't choose the lanterns, they chose him and he embraced it, quite willingly, and I thinks because he's:

a) always chased a sense of purpose.

b) good. Something deep inside him craves to do good.

(not saying he was blindly indoctrinated but I think I know which JL member is most likely to unwittingly join a cult.)

He's often billed as being ‘without fear’ but I don't think thats true. He's often shown to be afraid of things and he’s constantly surrounded by peers and foes that are alien, or immortal, or super-powers, but despite the constant reminder of his own mortality, he still runs toward his fears. He’s not without fear but he is exceptionally brave.

He's flawed. I know that most characters are flawed. His bravery is often driven/over shadowed by his recklessness and thrill-seeking which in my cases I've always considered to be a coping mechanism. Its hard to dwell on your unwanted emotions when you're high on adrenalin, drunkenly hurdling through the sky at 100 miles and hour, you know? (or whatever a realistic speed for a plane is idk)

He's quite a prideful character, he likes to show off the things he does well and downplay his mistakes, but when he does do bad, he always eventually take responsibility for his action. Its a big theme of his earlier stories.

He's got a strong personality, you have to in order to fit in amongst the JL and the likes.

He portrays himself very confidently, some would say overconfident, cocky, abrasively so. Which is a kind of character I've always been compelled to. I like a character with bravado, especially if they’re funny and charming too, which tick and tick.

Despite his pride, Hal also knows when its time to buckle down and get a job done.

(About to start muddling canon and my own fanon now) Yet, in his down time he's kind of a loser? I mean, ACAB to start (yes even space cops). But like, in his off time, when he's back on earth, he couch surfs, or finds someone to shack up with then spends most of his days in his boxers, drinking beer, scratching his balls, watching re-runs of MASH and Miami Vice.

Can't keep a job cause he's not really dedicated to anything but the crop (commitment issues ammiright?)

Gets kinda jealous and defensive when he finds out characters like Bruce and Ollie are also just human, like him. Thought he was special, you know?

There's a lot more going on with his character, I'm barely scratching the surface here, but these are just the first things that came to mind for me.

Oh, and if may add one last thing:

[talcite]

To non-binary, trans, and genderqueer friends, and other MOGAI friends: it's not your fault to feel unrelatable with, excluded from, isolated by, and/or ostracized by both sides. The both sides can either be the binary genders, be your own label and another label, or even the queer community and the cishet society at large.

Because this place isn't yet perfect. We have to admit that BS and AHs exist everywhere, and being queer (or another identity) doesn't necessarily make the person a good and trustworthy person. Our society is long drenched by patriarchy, cissexism and dumbass gender isolationism, it contaminated and indoctrinated everybody's mind since a young age. It also takes time for queer people (and possible allies) to unlearn all the rubbish society dumped in and heal from internalized queerphobia.

Assilimating without difficulty isn't the only right way to live. Being unable or unwanting to join the majorities doesn't make you any less than valid, and doesn't make it more unlikely to live a fulfilled life. Your worth isn't determined by social recognition. Know that you are righteous, and gain your autonomy back, believe that time will eventually tell the truth.

[femmefatalevibe]

Unlearning Purity Culture & How To Embrace Your Sexuality

Some words on how to unlearn purity culture and embrace your sexuality on your terms. For the women, men, girls, gays, theys, and anyone else who grew up in a religious, ultra-conservative, or sex-negative environment.

Remember that no one is "tainted" from engaging in such a natural act with someone they have chemistry with. The only "damage" that can happen from consensual sex is STDs or unwanted pregnancy if you don't use protection.

From what I've seen, religious indoctrination tends to promote an otherness around sex – it is a purpose-driven act (uphold a marriage, create children), rather than an innate desire that matures just like the rest of your being (body, mind, spirit). Once you consider that your sexuality is simply a part of your human existence – like your desire for certain foods, emotions, interpersonal connections, sensory experiences, and creativity – it is easier to perceive sex as a morally-neutral act.

Because one's sexuality is so personal, you need to learn, explore, and accept your preferences at any given stage in your life. If you find the idea of casual sex or purely physically-driven sex to be unappealing, that is completely fine. Some people prefer to have sex with someone only after they've established an emotional connection or were friends with the person beforehand. Others crave more dynamic or adventurous sexual experiences that can incline them to become bored in long-term relationships. These pleasure-seekers may be more inclined to seek the thrill, novelty, and lack of inhibitions that come with casual relationships. It's like someone preferring smooth or chunky peanut butter. You might not understand why someone likes the other option, and you might change your mind over time, but neither option is inherently "good" nor "bad." Either option should align with your personal preference to ensure you're getting the most pleasure and satisfaction out of the experience.

While sex and love are not the same, you need to learn for yourself whether you prefer to have experiences that mesh or separate the two. Beneficial connections manifest in all forms. Sit with yourself honestly without judgment to pursue the path that feels most authentic to you.

[lemonhemlock]

No because all the anons talking about the Aemond x TB OC self insert fics are so real. Because those are so ridiculous derivative it is crazy

-White haired Targaryen looking child of Rhaenyra, probably named Visenya is either 1- takes after her mother because genetics don't exist 2-is the one trueborn daughter of Laenor and Rhaenyra who was conceived during consummation

-Can sword-fight, ride, talks like a 21st century woman, is a #girlboss and a 3rd wave feminist

-Takes Aemond's eye out as children instead of Luke being the one to do it

-Aemond somehow falls head over heels in love with her because she is #notlikeothergirls and just really really super hot

-Aemond abandons his family, his brothers, his sister, his mother and all the people he cares about to go fight for Rhaenyra because apparently the SI is just so hot and he is so in love with her

-They probably repeatedly have amazing super hot poorly written pre-marital sex but SI ofc doesn't get pregnant but there is no explanation like moon tea or anything

-Aemond calls his family out for being misogynistic haters or something for some reason????

- 639363 pages of Alicent bashing

-Aegon is the devil himself

-SI and Aemond get married and have children with white hair who they name after Rhaenyra and Daemon

-Author somehow managing to sneak in their own opinions that Rhaenyra is the one true heir and her and Daemon are innocent little saints who do no wrong

Just explained the plot of like a min. of 50 of Aemond x TB OC fics

i mean.... yeah :)) good for them for having their fun, but, bless their hearts, i had to check out

at the end of the day everyone can relate to this feeling of frustration when the majority of fics skew in a direction you're not a fan of. and every author should absolutely feel like they can post whatever they want and enjoy themselves; the target audience isn't always you and that's fine. but i simultaneously feel like venting these annoyances with like-minded people in your own space is also not a crime. sometimes we don't like stuff and want to gossip about it. it's really not that serious, everyone has the thinnest skin imaginable these days

it's like we've forgotten how to interact with one another. not liking something is not a personal affront to the person who does like it. it does not require outrage at the expressing of an opinion. it does not require a silencing campaign. you shouldn't expect others to keep quiet all the time just so your feelings won't be hurt. the fuck. especially when, i repeat, the tags can always be muted. what are you even doing interacting with the posts if the mere act of verbalizing a dislike bothers you so much?

there's a world of difference between occasional banter and sending authors hate, leaving disgruntled reviews, telling people to kms or insinuating that on your blog, casually accusing them of being illegal sexual deviants and whatever other deranged insults stans trade like candy and we definitely should stop acting like these two things are the same. you don't have to turn everything into a fight in the trenches

Anonymous asked: Yeah while I don't expect Alicent to be portrayed in every fic as the best mother who has no bad qualities since nobody is perfect it's becoming tiring to constantly read about how she's always trying to actively destroy her children's lives and is to blame for most things including the upcoming war while Rhaenyra is an amazing mother who truly loves her children and can do no wrong, like the worst she'll do is maybe arrange some unwanted marriage to her OC daughter or betroth her to another man who is not Aemond. I've come across to stories in which Alicent was abusive to Aemond for no reason other than she's a bad mother, was physically recoiled by his lost eye, turned and indoctrinated him into a religious extremist just like she's always portrayed in many fics or even tried to have Rhaenyra's daughter be assassinated just to prevent Aemond from defecting to the other side by marrying her and not the Baratheon daughter the greens want him to marry. To some extent I do believe it's very hard to avoid some OOC-ness from these characters since they're being put into new scenarios that didn't happen in canon and everything about this is being left to the author's personal interpretation which will naturally spark some debate whether or not what a certain character's actions are believable within their universe, however, due to the formulaic nature of a lot of those fics most characters (especially green ones if we're talking about Rhaenyra's daughter OCs) are brought to insane levels of OOC just to make their story work. Like yeah, if Aemond has constantly been abused by his mother (not physically necessarily), by Aegon, by his grandfather and, on top of that, Alicent and/or Otto try to have his beloved OC assassinated well, chances are this will make him denounce his family and switch sides sooner or later. Something that would've never happened under normal circumstances. Oh and I've also noticed a trend in quite a few of these fics of using Alys in cheating tropes and always turning her into an evil witch and seductress who tries to separate Aemond from the OC and use him for her own benefits…all I'm going to say is you don't want to see how demented and misogynistic people get about her in the comment sections. Anyway I'm sorry about extending this discussion about Aemond x OC fics and I hope it hasn't attracted too many weirdos who are spewing hate in your inbox!

i pretty much agree with you, anon, not much more to add. :))

[agentrouka-blog]

Why do Targaryen fans love incest so much and see nothing wrong with it and even consider it something good and "liberating" when incest is part of the patriarchy which is all about controlling women. What surprises me is that they don't see that the children in this family are indoctrinated and groomed from an early age into thinking that their sisters or brothers/nieces belongs to them. On top of that, these relationships are so broken and abusive and people think they are romantic for which I blame George Martin himself (he’s a fan of Jahaerys and Alyssane) and the headcons created by fans.

I would say GRRM has written Alysanne and Jaehaerys very deliberately as a deeply messed up dynamic that has been heavily romanticized by their dynasty and the surrounding culture. It hits some romantic markers (fidelity, childhood sweethearts, he rescues her from an unwanted betrothal, she has some influence over him) which makes it tempting to ignore all the awful angles.

I don't want to make assumptions about what motivates Targ fans. You'll have to ask them.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Funniest irony of Paris Special, is that Shadybug ("evil" version of S1!Ladybug) is "less bad" that S5!Ladybug, due to fact that she is ultimately just "minion of Supreme"

"I was awful, due to Supreme threatening me into compliance. What's your excuse?" - Question that Shadybug should ask to S5!Ladybug, but didn't, due to fact that it would cause latter to look bad (and "we can't have that")

Unless I'm missing something, I don't agree with your assessment of who is the badder one here. I'm assuming S5!Ladybug is getting the "bad" label for keeping everything a secret from Adrien? If so, then I get why that upsets you, but Shadybug is a domestic terrorist or possibly even a domestic and international terrorist. In the grand scheme of things, terrorism ranks much higher than lying to/keeping secrets from your significant other no matter how bad the lie/secret is. I love Adrien, but he is not more important than the safety of every person in Paris.

If I'm wrong and you were instead talking about S5!Ladybug keeping Gabriel's status a secret from Paris? Then I still don't agree. That's not worse than terrorism, especially since I don't even think that Ladybug was clearly in the wrong there.

I disagree with her telling people that Gabriel was some sort of hero - I would have just labeled him an "unfortunate victim" - but the threat is neutralized. Paris is safe. Is the general public really owed the full details of how it happened?

It's a complex question and I fall on the side of protecting the innocent here. Gabriel is dead. Outing him to everyone will just hurt Adrien. I've actually written and will write fics where Gabriel lives, but is neutralized, so he's still not outed because Paris isn't owed the fine details. Perhaps in the idealistic world we see at the end of season five this sort of grand reveal would be a good idea, but in a more realistic world, it would probably blow up in Adrien's face and possibly even force him to give up being a hero due to unwanted public attention. In order to protect him and the secrets of the miraculous, I am totally cool with Gabriel facing justice via non-conventional means. This is probably extra true because I'm not a big fan of punitive justice, so I try to find paths other than traditional jail when dealing with my villains.

I will possibly feel differently about all of the above if season six introduces Gabriel Agreste day or something, but the universe was rewritten by the wish, so maybe Marinette thinks that Gabriel really was a hero? Who knows. Canon is dead to me and, either way, active terrorism is still worse than Gabriel being posthumously seen as a hero.

In your ask you say that Shadybug was "just a minion," but that's not an excuse. If someone hands you a weapon and orders you to hurt another human being, the fact that you were "just obeying orders" doesn't undo the harm you cause by obeying the order. Those things still happened and they happened because of you.

There can be nuance to this depending on context, but that's kind of the problem with making these grand statements about the Paris special: we don't know anything about that other world. We don't know if Emonette has loving parents. We don't know how long she's been working for The Supreme. We don't know if she's been indoctrinated since childhood to obey the Supreme or if he operates from the shadows and she didn't know that he existed until she got her Miraculous. We don't even know what she's done! She could have killed millions! She could have also done nothing but chase after Betterfly. Without a full picture of what her life was like and what she's done, we cannot say that Shadybug is clearly the better person. I'm also having a hard time picturing any context that would lead me to give her that label. She might have a worse life than canon Marinette, but her crimes are still hers.

If you're making the argument that Emonette is more sympathetic than S5!Ladybug, then I might agree as her situation does have the potential to be far more sympathetic than Marinette keeping a massive secret from Adrien, especially when that secret has the potential to cause him very real harm. But that's not a case of our Marinette being worse than Emonette. Emonette is still a terrorist, making her the one who is irrefutably causing the most harm. We just don't see that harm on screen because it would undermined her frankly lackluster redemption.

Don't get me wrong, I did enjoy the Paris special, I'm just saying that it only works because we never have to think too hard about what Shadybug and Claw Noir have actually done. Their minimal screentime keeps them pretty tame and allows their redemptions to mostly work. If we'd spent five seasons watching them terrorize people, then their redemptions would probably have felt as lackluster as Gabriel's did.

Because we don't have all of that context, the emo versions fall into the same category as PV Felix: they're so underdeveloped that they're more of a concept than a true character, so you can imagine them as wonderful or as terrible as you would like them to be. They will never be marred by the prolonged influence of the writing staff. If we had a show that starred them, then you would probably feel very differently because it's the same writing staff writing them. I don't see a world in which these two are magically leagues better than what we got in canon.

All of this is reminding me of that excellent Eddie Izzard bit where he talks about horrific, large-scale crimes being so outside of what most people's minds can fathom that they just kind of go, "Oh, well, that's, huh..." because it's easier to know how to react to smaller, more personal wrongs:

[diagoose]

✍️ for any of your ocs!

character name meaning and symbolism

tysm!! i very much appreciated you dropping an ask, sorry it's taken me so long to answer, i get nervous lol.

i hope it's okay with you that I roll down with the answers for my two guys, fair warning, it got long lololol so it will be under the cut!

⛈️ Leigh's name - she is my lady of many names and nicknames

a bit of background, Leigh is a character that was adapted/changed to fit our dnd campaign(I view them as separate characters at this point, but for the lore her original name was Larisa). had a tricky time settling on a new name for this iteration but I eventually landed on Leigh. 

Leigh(pronounced like Lay) was named by her grandfather who raised her and her sister during her early life. it is sorta our game world’s equivalent of an anglicized version of her birth name Leikiinae, which roughly translates from draconic as: surprise.

Leigh is the surprise additional bebe(identical twin) from a (unwanted)surprise pregnancy, a surprise of a surprise if you will. technically, you can't really label a twin as the “surprise” because there is no way of knowing which person actually was the split off, but leigh's family sure did! which i feel is telling of the dynamic that was there.

Leigh has the nickname Beetle from Saerdis. She got lil iridescent blue scales like a lil beetle(and she scurries like a bug lololol). Saerdis practically raised Leigh, and there’s a lot of fondness there between the two.

Birdie is a pet name given to her by Griffin her fiance. He started calling her that when they were kids, after breaking her nose in a training incident. her nose in recovery was clogged for the next while, and in his 11-year-old opinion, she kinda squawked like a bird. as the years went by the context morphed into a much more endearing nickname. When they are signing to each other, Griffin will also use an iteration of the sign for a bird in flight as her name.

you may have also seen my tag for leigh as oc leigh/enna. Enna is the alias Leigh went by at the start of the campaign, as she was a deserter from the military and on the run. as the party called her Enna the whole first bit they knew her, she still uses it, and doesn't really view it as less her given name. Enna also means bird with gives me feelings.

💜 Griffin's name:

Griffin, like Leigh, is a character that is an iteration of my old oc. While I do also view him as a separate character, I always felt off about changing the name.

Griffin's name was chosen for a lot of reasons and symbolism and ✨️themes✨️ regarding his original iteration, for the sake of brevity and also not getting the two characters conflated, I won't really go into the details here. 

BUT, wonderfully, there was a really interesting crossover of similar themes even if the contexts of the characters were different. The name Griffin has a bit of a meta irony in the narrative, its irl historical association is tied up with myths, knights and chivalry, and it's much darker use as a symbol of the European crusades back in the middle ages.

This meta symbolism also extends in the fictional world they exist in as they are a symbol of the Emperor. 

Griffin was a child soldier who was indoctrinated with imperial beliefs, and used as a weapon to keep the forces of power in power. he was raised in a dogmatic religion that made him deeply ashamed of being a tiefling, made to believe that his redemption and salvation lay within the constructs of that empire and its military. he also idolizes mythic figures and stories of folk heroes, viewing them and their sacrifices as the pinnacle of masculinity that he should emulate. 

He believed that if he could become a “hero” in a sense, he would be “saved”. the themes VIBE here for the name's associations.

but also, his own morality and sense of right and wrong frequently contradicted these ideals, he is always being pulled two, between the ideals that he idolizes and were also forced onto him, and his quiet but very strong inner sense of morality and heroism which is often overlooked and rarely rewarded. 

His strong inner sense of true morality, made more willing to question the status quo, and grew disillusioned to the empire much sooner than leigh did. HE was the reason she eventually was also able to break away from their indoctrination and admit that they were sold into something horrific.

So his name being Griffin is both symbolic of the projections he had of what he should be vs the actual heroism he displays that will never be rewarded. two sides of a griffin stamped coin if you will.

also griffins are associated a bit with hedonism, and god does this guy deserve to heal from his catholic guilt and indulge in life a bit.

if you read this whole thing, omg hi, thank you, i hope you enjoyed the oc lore.

[deathinfeathers-a]

The exterminators are a distinctive choir of their own but they did not come about in the same fashion as the rest of heaven's native born denizen. They are a relatively small, self-contained society, one which the heavenly host has kept strictly segregated from the rest of the celestial kingdom for several millenia. Every exterminator who ever was has been born and raised inside the compound serving as the excorcist unit's base of operations. This is done namely to keep the annual purge under tight wraps and to ensure that this innately violent, combative and unruly caste of people does not cause a disturbance inside the rest of heaven's picture perfect society.

They are composed entirely of women and girls, governed by an exclusively male body of supervisors who's sole objective is to methodically break each member of the commune in via an elaborate system of indoctrination which starts as soon as a nestling exterminator is fit to attend their junior academy. The ultimate intent is to create perfectly obedient, perfectly subservient, perfectly objective oriented soldiers who possess very little in terms of superfluous opinions or emotions (save for that which is systematically instilled in them). If simple brainwashing does not do an adequate job at scrubbing any unwanted thoughts and inclinations from their minds a much crueler system of punishment and reward is implemented in order to achieve the desired results. The herd is culled once a year in order to get rid of any stragglers who refuse to fall in line.

Winners do make up a small percentage of the excorcist population; If a mortal soul causes a great enough disturbance in heaven they will be sent to serve alongside the true-born members of the unit for the rest of their immortal lives. They are usually considered to be weak and are generally shunned by the women of the compound.

Adam sits at the very top of this totem pole, though he is more of a figurehead, in essence, who's involvement with the day-to-day going-ons inside the base itself is little to none until it's time to rally the troops into action. Lute on the other hand is much more wrapped up with the actual machinations of the system and travels to the compound every Sunday to conduct sermons and lead various combat courses for the fledgling members of the commune. She has spent over nine centuries of her 1000+ years of life serving directly under Adam. For somebody of her ilk, she leads an exceedingly cushy lifestyle thanks to her association with him. That's not to say she was, by any means, spared the harsher reality of what it means to be an excorcist before she came to be regarded as an extension of the commander himself.

[forestofforever]

So tempted to bring Jeremy back as a muse.

He was part of my old blog for a while until I deleted most of my muses, but I'll admit that Jeremy was definitely one of the ones that was more difficult to let go of.

See, Jeremy was an angel that didn't realize he was an angel. This mostly manifested in him causing glass to break and lights to flicker when upset, as well as his shadow having wings on occasion, but there's a lot of lore behind it that I won't dump on here just yet.

Jeremy was unwanted and his mother eventually abandons him, causing the town's priest to adopt him. Jeremy grew up somewhat sheltered while also being pretty strongly indoctrinated by his adoptive father. This for instance causes him to view homosexuality as a sin (which makes his own bisexuality a rather frustrating thing for him to deal with). The priest has been performing rituals to repress Jeremy's angelic side, but by doing so, Jeremy's health has begun to suffer.

Jeremy for the most part seems like the perfect type of person to befriend. Kind, helpful, generally cheerful... but unlike someone like Wester, this isn't entirely genuine. He can be pretty judgmental and he bottles up his emotions until they explode (sometimes literally, considering the whole angel thing). He's often sickly and weak, being prone to fainting, and having to stay in bed for days on end when things get bad.

He owns an antiques shop in his more recent versions of the character. He also worked for Benjamin in one of the older versions, which could be an interesting element to bring back.

Maybe I'll bring him back someday.

[skaldish]

Reciting a prayer to drown out unwanted thoughts sounds identical in essence to some of what I and others go through with OCD. To me, it feels like people who are being told to address their thoughts this way are having an OCD-like mental state imposed upon them. I don't know what that experience would be like for someone without OCD, but it can't be good. I can confidently say that if a young person with OCD was put into that situation, it would make their condition magnitudes worse. I knew that OCD often latches onto religious anxiety, but that example is much more dangerous than I had imagined.

Yup. It's simultaneously a form of thought-termination and self-indoctrination.