#i blame religion frankly

[livvyofthelake]

the modern fandomization of like. greek mythology is crazy can you imagine if people wrote fanfiction about like. saint peter? or mary magdalene? saint jude? imagine an afterlife where the ancient greeks who’s religion that was are looking at these tiktok freaks like wtf…

[captainjonnitkessler]

While unsurprising, the rhetoric being spewed by Louisiana's lawmakers is fucking terrifying to me.

I feel so lucky that I was raised by a bunch of atheist because honestly I managed to go the majority of my childhood happy, without being shamed or acquiring a persecution complex...but now looking out at the current climate we live in...damn, they really hate us, don't they? I mean "godless" is one of the main insults getting thrown around on most campaign trails, which isn't new it just hurts.

I feel like I am a bad person because I only just found out about what's going on in Louisiana.

Sorry, just screaming into the void a bit. I hope you have a good day

For anyone who's not aware, Louisiana just passed a law requiring every single public classroom in the state, from kindergarten to college, to display the Ten Commandments.

Unfortunately, this is just the latest in the rapidly-escalating war between Christofascists and secularism. Multiple states have proposed this law, Louisiana is just the first to actually pass it. Oklahoma's Department of Education is claiming that they're going to force teachers to start teaching from the Bible. Seven states have passed laws requiring schools to display "In God We Trust" signs.

Here's the thing I think a lot of people on this site are too young to remember or weren't involved enough in religious politics to notice, and the reason the "edgy atheist who just hates religion" stereotype has gained so much traction on here: The New Atheist movement was very much a response to constant barrages of shit like this. Getting America to be even as secular as it is has been a constant struggle. Conservatives have been openly blaming atheists for school shootings, mass murders, and serial killers for decades. People who stand up and try to get religion taken out of schools and government immediately become targets for massive hate and harassment campaigns. People - conservatives and liberals alike - react with hatred and anger whenever someone stands up to get religion out of places where it doesn't belong. I think the past fifteen years or so have gotten a lot of people believing that separation of church and state is an obviously "safe" position that almost everyone is in favor of, but it very much is not and never has been.

I believe that conservatives are going to try to use the current Supreme Court to essentially abolish the separation of church and state, largely because many of them are openly stating their intent to do so. Louisiana is already being sued about this - if it makes its way to the Supreme Court, I think there's a decent chance of the current court ruling in favor of Louisiana, which is going to unleash the floodgates of Christian propaganda in public schools. It is frankly a dire situation, so I'm sorry if you were here looking for reassurance lol.

As always, the best action I can recommend is to get involved. You're definitely not a bad person for not knowing about this! But if you want to stay on top of religious news, I recommend the Friendly Atheist blog. The Freedom From Religion Foundation fights to get laws like this taken down. You can check your local city for secular humanist meetups. You don't want to burn out or enter a doom spiral by only ever dwelling on bad news, but I find that having people to talk to or action you can take is a good way to ward off despair.

And please, please, vote. Vote in federal and state elections, vote in your local city council elections, vote in your school board elections. A LOT of this is happening at local levels, and being involved in your local politics is possibly the most effective thing you can do!

[babygorewhore]

Act of Contrition

James Patrick March x Virgin! Reader.

Inspired by a post by @ahsjpm

On Halloween night, you’re alone as James is participating in Devils night. As a Christian, you’re often modest and found in prayer. But James habits inspire you to engage in your deepest fantasies.

WARNINGS! Porn with little plot. Virgin! Reader. Violence! Murder! Oral! Male and female recieving! Bondage! Light degrading! Dom! Reader. Sub! James. Brief PnV! Use of religion disrespectfully lol.

Your fingers were locked together as your nostrils inhaled the warm meal in front of you. Your prayers typically were kept short during dinner time, as you were eager to dive in but tonight you needed the strength. It was Halloween. You opened your eyes, resisting the urge to scratch at your lash line. You didn’t want to ruin your makeup.

“You still pray? Honey, you’re sleeping with a ghost. If there’s a God, I think he forgot about this place.” Sally taunted you.

Your partner, James Patrick March wasn’t with you tonight. Opting you to sit at one of the tables in the main lobby of the Cortez. The spirits of this building kept you company whenever James was away and they were the only company he somewhat trusted with you. Tonight was the infamous Devils night along with the celebration of the holiday.

You hadn’t been with James very long. Sally was incorrect on your intimate status with him but you didn’t dare correct her. James explained that the ghosts of past murderers dined with him on this occasion and frankly, you were too afraid to participate.

He chastised you only briefly before he understood. It was something you cherished about him. He tried his best to accommodate your apprehensions. You toyed with the fork after you took a bite. You almost ordered a alcohol beverage but often you and James would enjoy a night cap.

You dressed up. It was primarily a joke since your modest dressing drew criticism from others. Knee high fishnet stockings up your thicker thighs, wider than a majority of women. A black hip length coat, a low cut white shirt that accentuated your full breasts. A wide black cross in the center. Your hair was styled last minute. Your makeup was dark and sultry as you gingerly tried to eat without smudging your lipstick.

Your high heels clicked together as you shifted in your chair.

“Sally, be easy on the girl. Let her enjoy her faith in peace.” Liz interjected but you knew she was joking. They sat adjacent to you. You didn’t blame them for mocking your beliefs given their current states as ghosts but James never ridiculed you.

Before sleeping, you lowered yourself to your knees and prayed for the safety of yourself and your family. The first night when James saw you, you expected him to laugh but instead, he gave you a warm smile and said, “I’ll give you a moment of privacy, my dear.”

A sensation of tugging brought your attention back to the present. You looked up, Sally was toying with the chain of your wrap around cross bracelet. Her dark lipstick was smudged from drinking but she gave you a quick smile anyway. She pulled out her phone, her lifeline. “Do you mind?”

You were camera shy by nature but Sally had few pleasures. You nodded. “Yes. Do you want to take a picture of my bracelet or my whole costume?”

“Your whole outfit. Everyone will want to see a slutty nun.” You huffed but obliged.

You modeled for her and she finally broke out into a pleased grin. She stepped away from you, typing away and you smooth your shirt. You weren’t hungry anymore, too preoccupied with James activity. Could you do it? Bypass your fears and join him? You missed him and his affectionate gestures.

You straightened your shoulders with a resolution. “Don’t worry about your plate, I’ll get it.” Your head snapped towards Liz’s direction. As if she was reading your mind.

You could do this. You could be brave. James wouldn’t let anyone hurt you. And you could run quickly if you needed.

The hallways felt closed in, daunting like a countdown as you trailed toward James room. You quieted your breathing to somehow conceal your vulnerability. With the dimmed lights, it was difficult to keep steady in your heels as you narrowed in towards his door. Your hand wrapped around the handle, a quiet noise of scraping came as your bracelet scratched the gold.

Pushing the door, you blinked as the brighter light peeked at you as you stepped inside.

You opened your mouth to greet James but you froze. Several other men were at the table but they weren’t sitting. Instead, they stood and started cheering. Wildly clapping and chanting, “Ten commandments killer!” Your hand went to your mouth.

James held a man by his hair with one hand and his other continuously rammed his long blade all over his torso. His knife plunged deep and with purpose. Your teeth chattered as he yanked it free and slit it across his throat. Blood coated his hands, danced on his normally immaculate suit and even splattered on his face. His smile was wicked and he started to laugh. Proudly and heartily from his chest.

“James,” You whispered in fear. It wasn’t loud enough to be heard but somehow another presence caught his attention and he met your terrorized stare.

James smile immediately dropped and he released his victim. “Darling-“ He tried to speak in a alarmingly gentle tone in contrast to his animalistic action.

You spun around on your heels and ran out. You didn’t take off your shoes so you couldn’t sprint but the surrounding rooms blurred together. Across the hallway was a balcony and you cling to the rails. Your fingers tighten around the white bars and you pant. He slaughtered again. Brutally. Your bravery was misplaced. You should have stayed downstairs.

But this small moment of terror could never erase your feelings for him.

You closed the bedroom door behind you after an hour passed. You pressed your back against the wood. You needed the time to think. Consider how to approach James with your feelings. You prayed. Begged God to give you clarity and strength. Sitting on the bed, you contemplated taking off your costume, Halloween was nearly over now. You weren’t in the mood to go out and celebrate. You didn’t want to be without him.

But he lied to you. He promised he wouldn’t hurt anyone again.

He needs to endure the consequences.

Standing, you intended to go the bathroom and wash off your makeup when a voice caught your attention.

“Y/n, my love.” James’s eyes were glazed over with regret as you faced him.

He engulfed your hands and pulled you close to him. His lips pressed against your neck with urgency, “Darling, you weren’t supposed to see this. I know you disapprove.” You stepped away from him and set your mouth.

“James. I just wanted to be with you tonight. But you insist on traditions. Of course I want to honor this but to walk in on such a thing, it’s madness.” You went to step away from him but he rushed around. Gripping your shoulders.

“My dear, I can’t be in ill standing with you. Tell me what I can do. Tell me how to earn your forgiveness.” You shook your head, crossing your arms but something…tightened in you. At the account of his pleas.

James Patrick March wasn’t one to ask for forgiveness. He didn’t show remorse. And he never showed a shred of submission. Being a partner to a ghost wasn’t morally clear according to Christianity. You couldn’t hold him to the same standards as a human. In his past, he was a killer. Despite his promises that he grew tired of murder, you couldn’t remove the gleeful grin across his face as he slashed a man’s throat from your mind.

James enjoyed the applause. It seemed to drive him. Attention. Praise. Devotion. You always knew once you gave into him, that he would pry every ounce of worship from you.

You would offer it. Without a single thought of resistance.

He lowered himself down, fingers ghosting over your clothes as he settled on his knees before you. His wide palms cupped your thighs and his black gaze torturously raked over your stockings. “You look irresistible, my little mouse. Powerful. Whatever you want, I’ll do it. I am your slave, y/n. Take me however you wish.”

Your bracelet covered hand cupped his cheek, stroking his skin with your thumb. A darkness clouded you, deep and hungry urges clawed inside you like a disease. You couldn’t resist anymore. He willing to abide every command.

Fuck it.

“James, you need to cleanse your conscience. Confess to me. Tell me how wrong it was.” You lifted your chin and his brows raised. A sign of hope.

“This is a religious practice, yes? Do you want me to pray, my love? I will for you.”

“Tell me how bad you were. How could you disobey me?” Your voice was lower, husky and it caused him to shiver.

“I shouldn’t have. I-I don’t want you to be cross with me. My only desire is to see you happy. Perhaps I became too carried away. Determined to gain the respect of my fellow man.”

“You wanted their attention. You enjoyed that man bleeding in front of you. Oh, James. That’s so sad…how pathetic could you be?” His hands clung to your hips.

“Yes, pathetic-“ You clutched his chin in your hand, hard enough that his eyes widened.

“Beg. Beg God for forgiveness. If you really meant what you said about making me happy.”

He was resisting inwardly, you knew that. But you counted on his love for you to override it. He tilted his head down and started whispering.

“Dear Heavenly Father, I come to you-“ You stepped out of his embrace and you released him.

“I said pray to God, James. That’s not correct.” James stumbled and tried to grab your arm.

“I’m doing what you asked.”

“I am your God.”

The silence echoed after your direction but James appeared to be stunned. His breathing was heavier as he slowly scanned your heels, legs, stomach and now your breasts. “Darling, if you make me scream your name, would that count as praying?” He asked with a growing smirk.

You beckoned him with a finger. “Crawl to me, James. Show me how repentant you are.” He was fast to oblige. His large hands held his weight as he moved and he settled on the back of his calves when he reached you.

James touched his palms together, staring up at you. “Please forgive me, y/n. I beg you. I promise I’ll listen. I promise I will never disobey you. And I promise I will get on my knees everyday if you allow me to touch you.”

Your mouth curved in a satisfied smile. “Was that so hard? But I’m afraid this is just the beginning. I want you to go to the bed.”

He practically jumped to his feet and prowled to the bed. You trailed after him, flicking the cross between your fingers as a thrill ignited in your bones. It was obscene to use Gods name in vain like this. To pretend you were the highest power. But it was too delicious to see such a dark man beg and not give into your temptation. You would just have to go to church more often after tonight.

You took ahold of his suspenders and yanked him close. Chest to chest. “You’ll do anything?” You proposed.

“Of course, kitten. I could never disobey my God.”

You smashed your lips against his, not giving a shit about your lipstick. Your arms encircled his broad shoulders and his hands captured your middle, hips and then they cupped your ass. He moaned as you bit his lower lip and pulled. His tongue swept your mouth and you met it with your own. He lifted you by your thighs, his strength evident by the way he made your curvy body feel weightless.

He fell back on the bed and you straddled him. James ripped away from the kiss, red product smeared on his mouth. He latched onto your skirt, hiking it over your thighs and his fingers brushed against the growing wet spot of your underwear. You swallowed and shook your head. Normally, you were too insecure to entertain this. A part of you wanted to run away and hide. But you pushed back those thoughts and wildly took off your underwear.

As if reading your mind, James assisted in sliding you higher until you were above his face. Tearing off your jacket, James shoved you down, his tongue licking a stripe. You nearly screamed at the foreign contact. He circled your clit before laying his tongue flat. Your hands braced on his chest as you rolled your pelvis against the pace of his mouth. His lips suckled your clit and he gently let his teeth give it a tug.

He moaned, a pretty sound that you needed more of. “Fuck,” he said in-between lapping your pussy. He didn’t swear often so you knew this was a special occasion. You continued humping his face as a rush of heat flushed your face and your entrance tightened. You were close.

He started to shift, “I need you underneath me. I need to feel you cum while I’m fucking you.”

You maneuvered yourself down enough so he could talk as you gripped his jaw. “Good boys take what I give them. If you’re not, I’ll have to walk away-“ you didn’t finish as James jerked you back into place. Getting the point.

He dipped his tongue inside before it resumed working over the sensitive bud in the center and you stilled as you reached your peak. You shook as you chased your high. You moved off of his face and his chin was wet but he didn’t wipe it off. “Darling, you are ravishing. I could spend an eternity between your legs if you allowed me.”

A lightening burst of bravery surged you onto your own knees. Your heels giving you a modest boost as you practically ripped off James trousers and threw them across the room. Pausing, your eyes took in his raised dick in the confines of his boxers. He supported himself on his elbows as you licked your lips.

“If you behave yourself, then maybe I’ll let you fuck me. Don’t cum unless I say you can.”

You pulled down his underwear, feeling the heat rise from him as his swollen, heavy cock hung as it leaked precum. You were intimidated by his size but you refused to let him see fear.

Sticking out your tongue, you licked his tip before going along the side. James grunted as you wrapped your hand around the base, taking it into your mouth. He shuddered as you bobbed your head up and down as you went further, pumping him at the same time.

“That’s-thats not fair, mouse-“ He whispered harshly and you tried not to smirk.

He started thrusted into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat but you breathed through your nose to keep from gagging. Hollowing your cheeks, you sucked faster and he clenched his fists.

“Y/n, please. I’m going to cum-this is-“ You shook your head causing James’s head to jerk back.

A creamy liquid shot down in your mouth and you removed yourself. He chanted your name and God as you watched with a quirked eyebrow.

James lifted up, “Y/n. Surely you know that I was never going to win that game. Please, allow me to take you. I promise I will-“

“Another promise, James? I meant what I said. Now, I’m going to have to punish you.” Standing, you grabbed his belt and wrestled his arms down, pinning his wrists together. You bound them tightly and gently smacked his face. “You’re not allowed to touch me. If you break free, I’ll leave you here. Do you understand?”

James moved his head in a short nod.

“Do you understand, James? Is that anyway to answer me?” You taunted.

“Yes, I understand.” He ground through his teeth. You knew the submission was killing him

You balanced on your knees before grabbing his dick. You lined it up with your pussy and sank down. James whimpered, actually whimpered and you groaned from pleasure. And a small stretch of pain. You felt full but the hilt of his pelvis hit your clit.

You rocked your hips, your eyes fighting to stay open from James meeting your pace. His hands, despite being tied, attempted to touch you.

“James. I told you to keep your hands down.” You scolded with a half serious tone. James was looking at you with fuck me eyes as you used him.

You lifted off him, taking your discarded coat and wiping your inner thighs.

“Darling, I’m sorry. No, please. Please allow me to make you finish. My pet, I don’t know what’s gotten ahold of me. I don’t know why I can’t seem to listen-“

“Who said I was done with you?” You questioned and his mouth fell. You had reached for his cane. Holding it across your body, you unsheathed the hidden knife. It was still covered in blood. Half naked, you still had your heels on.

“James. I suggest you start praying again.”

Taglist. @icannot3 @ifeeltoofuckingmuch @alittlesil @scene-and-dandylover @quickandsilvers @randodummy @evanptrss @hyperharlz @howtobesasha

[molsno]

if your political stance is that people changing their bodies to be more attractive is wrong because it's "unnatural", you're wrong on all accounts. people have been modifying their appearances to be more attractive, including physically and permanently altering their bodies, since before the dawn of homo sapiens as a species.

the problem is not that women are choosing to undergo cosmetic procedures to better meet the beauty standards of the present day, and if you think that women (especially trans women) simply choosing not to do these things would accomplish anything, you're sorely mistaken.

the problem is that men hold institutional power in society, and they can use that power to punish women who don't conform. yes, this power they hold undoubtedly influences the decisions of women who undergo these cosmetic procedures, but those women are not all mindless drones bowing to the patriarchy because they don't know any better or they haven't liberated themselves. yes, some of them hold internalized misogyny and willingly uphold these standards, but most of the women who choose to modify their bodies understand that refusing to do so will materially harm them. they're making informed decisions to improve their well-being as much as they can under the conditions of the society they live in.

frankly, I find the idea that most women aren't intelligent enough to realize that they're "complicit in their own oppression" appalling and horrifically misogynistic. you can criticize "choice feminism" all you want, and there are very good reasons for doing so, but placing doubt on women's intelligence and agency, thereby blaming them for their own oppression, is not progressive. it has long been a radical feminist tactic, in fact. if that's who you want to align yourself with, then frankly I don't think you have anything interesting, insightful, or even true to say about feminism.

if, however, your problem is that women are being pressured into cosmetic procedures that they will be punished for not adhering to, then your goal must be to abolish the power structures that allow women to face these punishments in the first place. your targets should be the institutions of wage labor, private property, colonialism, police, the medical industry, organized religion, state marriage, and all of the other institutions that uphold the global system of capitalist exploitation. only when women can no longer be deprived of our individual human rights for failing to conform to the misogynistic expectations placed upon us will we truly be free to make decisions about our own bodies.

[somesoups]

imma be completely honest, i just checked out the watchertv website and i can absolutely see why they were so excited for it - without context, it looks so cool and i would be SO proud of them cos that's huge you know? and i can absolutely see how this has been something they've been aiming for (i remember both ryan & shane talking about how it's been their dream to create high-quality, tv-level productions at various points in time).

but as many have said, a huge issue was perhaps in the execution. assuming this was a set-in-stone end goal for them, much could still have been done to transition the audience gradually to this new platform. ofc, i acknowledge that hindsight is 20/20 but, well. i have to admit that some aspects of how this was executed were indeed quite tone-deaf.

THAT BEING SAID, while i absolutely understand that this tone-deafness could have been extremely hurtful, using this situation as an opportunity to be racist, to attack steven's religion, or to harrass their partners on their socials is completely out of line. this whole fiasco has revealed a startling & upsetting amount of toxicity that is colouring the entire fandom in a really bad light.

also, while i understand that steven being the sole CEO position does make him more responsible over such business decisions, i truly do not think that the "steven is the only villian, he's threatening R&S with a gun" narrative is warranted. as mentioned above, R&S have both expressed their dreams of making high-quality productions (nothing wrong with that btw) and they're also both still the co-founders & main faces of the platform. there's a much higher likelihood that they were both on board with this, and pinning all the blame on steven like this to protect and coddle your 'faves' is frankly a little embarrassing.

[stardustprompts]

the kingdom of copper  (  the daevabad trilogy book 2 )  -   s. a. chakraborty change tenses/pronouns as needed !!  some lines have been edited for clarity / length / ease of roleplaying     tw ;  death ,  violence ,  religion mention 

‘keep your sense of humor. you’re going to need it.’

‘you look like you’re about to be sick.’

‘you don’t look fine. you’re trembling.’

‘are you afraid of me?’

‘quite frankly, you terrify me and I wouldn’t mind staying on your good side.’

‘you’d be amazed by the things a person can do to survive.’

‘if I’ve not said it lately, I think I hate you.’

‘I find the idiotic rumors enjoyable.’

‘the ( ____ ) do not need a reason to be violent. it is their nature.’

‘you have the look of someone freshly scolded.’

‘I wish you would talk to me.’

‘I feel like I have no idea what goes on in your head.’

‘you have more walls up than a maze.’

‘I can always count on you to honestly insult me.’

‘nothing’s going to happen to you, I swear. I won’t let it, and I’m obnoxiously honorable about these things.’

‘affection is a weakness for people like us, a thing to be concealed from those who would harm us.’

‘a threat to a loved one is a more effective method of control than weeks of torture.’

‘your affections are yours. but do not let them be a weakness. in any way.’

‘I don’t trust you. I don’t trust myself with you.’

‘that’s not a weakness i intent to let drag me down.’

‘you should be proud. not many people can outwit me, but you? you had me believing you were my friend until the very end.’

‘is this enough for you, then? you’ve intruded upon my privacy to dredge up the worst night of my life. is there anything else?’

‘liar. oh, do you not like being called a liar?’

‘I want to go home.’

‘you don’t need to be a weapon to be an asset.’

‘I know you don’t trust me. I know we have our differences. but this? this goes beyond all that. I need you to tell me the truth.’

‘I reward loyalty—- I don’t terrorize people into it.’

‘i’ll not forget what you did tonight.’

‘whether or not I need to know more was not your decision to make.’

‘I need at least one person I can trust, one person who will tell me the truth no matter what.’

‘it breaks my heart when I remember the man you used to be.’

‘I didn’t mean it like that. I only meant that I wouldn’t have blamed you for wanting me dead.’

‘wanting you dead and actually killing you are very different things. and I’m no murderer.’

‘i’m no murderer.’

‘glad to know you’re just as brutal when you’re being honest as you are when lying.’

‘I couldn’t take that risk. you’re not the only one with a duty.’

‘surely you can lie better than that.’

‘why are you looking at me like that? it is alarming.’

‘you owe me a debt. I don’t intend to let it go unpaid.’

‘a partnership founded in deceit is no partnership at all.’

‘I would not wish to lie and bring you into danger unwarned.’

‘saving a life and taking one are very different matters.’

‘I don’t think (name) will ever look at me the same way again. I don’t think anyone will.’

‘I wish I could tell you that it becomes easier.’

‘I suppose our reputations are small prices to pay if it means our people will be safe.’

‘grief clouds the mind, makes people say terrible things.’

‘does it get easier?’

‘you will make us monsters.’

‘you will make us monsters. that is what we are if you let this happen… and that’s not a reputation you’ll ever lose.’

‘then we will be monsters.’

‘then we will be monsters. I will pay that price to end this war.’

‘you do know that most people sleep at night, yes?’

‘you know nothing about me.’

‘it’s such a monumentally absurd story—- even for you—- to concoct that I’m assuming there’s a chance it’s the truth.’

‘there are always people to save. and always cunning men and women around who find a way to take advantage of that duty and harness it into power.’

‘are you asking questions now? I thought all you did was obey.’

‘you would make for a better companion if you were clever.’

‘i’m sick and tired of acting like the only way to save our people is to cut down all who might oppose us, as if our enemies won’t return the favor the instant power shifts.’

‘I suppose I’ve forgotten there are situations for which kindness is the most powerful weapon.’

‘i’m so tired of this. all this plotting and scheming just to keep breathing. it feels like I’m treading water … and, god, do I want to rest.’

‘I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.’

‘you’ll always owe me. I have a talent for extending the debts of powerful people indefinitely.’

‘you can’t fight him. he is capable of things you can’t imagine. he’ll destroy you.’

‘go and steal some happiness for yourself. trust me when I say the chance doesn’t always come back.’

‘oh, do you not enjoy being embarrassed? that’s odd, as you don’t seem to mind doing it to me.’

‘what do you know about grief? who have you lost, (name)?’

‘who have you lost? whose died in your arms? who have you begged to come back, to look at you one last time?’

‘I almost believed it, you know? your act.’

‘don’t you fucking die, (name).’

‘are you going to stick a dagger in my back and run off the moment I tell you?’

‘can we try being on the same side for one night?’

‘can we fight about this later?’

‘I should have been here. this is all my fault.’

‘I promise you—- you’re safe now.’

‘I know what it’s like to have ambitions, to be the cleverest in the room— and have those ambitions crushed.’

‘I know what it’s like to have men who are less than you bully and threaten you into a place you know you don’t belong.’

‘the things I could teach you; you’d be a goddess. you’d never have to lower your head again.’

[utilitycaster]

&to get more specific (although feel free to ignore these if you’re not interested in getting into this in more detail), a lot of my C3 complaints come from the “what have the gods done for me” camp. My complaints would probably be assuaged if we knew for sure if the Divine Gate is common knowledge, because it seems to me to be a foundational part of the history of the world, but it (and honestly a lot of info about the gods—see Chetney’s vaguely recent failed religion check) doesn’t seem to be as widely-known as I feel it should be, and that’s my biggest issue. It feels like a fundamental flaw of the worldbuilding that, frankly, wasn’t as present in the previous two campaigns (probably because they both had pre-existing religious characters), and it strikes me as a failure on all sides to really examine what a polytheistic world where the gods are undeniably real would look like. Frustrations of being abandoned by the gods would be very different if the Gate were common knowledge, and the worldbuilding feels contradictory to me.

So I do agree that this frustrates me but it's not so much "this is too culturally Christian" and yeah, a combination of "come on Matt, this basic deity info should in fact be common knowledge and shouldn't be a religion check" and the addition of "hey Matt if you're running the third-act Lore Campaign about the gods you would have benefited significantly from telling the players that you need one of them to play someone INT based."

I will say: I don't think the divine gate is a problem in-game! Or rather, I think it's valid for characters to feel this way. People's feelings about the gods aren't rational, and also the gods do answer specific people despite the divine gate, so I can understand why a character might feel specifically abandoned, because they are not necessarily thinking about "well, did that person do things to appeal to that god." Like, I think Ashton's worldview is both extremely entitled and comes from a place of hurt and anger and at times, debatably, vengeance, and that they can't be objective about the gods because of that; but I also think that makes sense given their background. It's a valid flaw for them to have! It's a good character choice!

My issue there has always been the fandom, because they do have access to the full knowledge of the lore and should be able to understand that like...if you blame the gods for Laudna being killed by Delilah...you need to blame Marisha for making a character who was killed by Delilah. You do need to consider "why haven't the gods stopped literally everything that's bad" as something with profound implications that end in "oh wait, then we would not have a story, we would watch Matt narrate a utopia that is boring as hell."

Basically, if a character thinks they deserved some kind of cosmic justice, that is kind of how characters function! They are the most important thing to themselves and they'll be irrational about it! But when a fan says "well my blorbo has suffered so everyone who made them suffer should die" then like. you should probably look at the person who created the character.

[qui-rault]

Bellart on Herault de Sechelles

In my quest to start building some sources, I have translated Nicolas Francois Bellart's anecdote on Herault de Sechelles.

Please note:

The source for this is Oeuvres de N.-F. Bellart, procureur général à la cour royale de Paris. Tome 6, 1827-1828 authored by Billecoq. You can find the original here: https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/bpt6k5586566r and it starts on page 124 of the text.

My French is absolute trash. And Bellart's writing does not help. @ans-treasurebox was lovely enough to help me out with a chunk of the translation and I am very grateful. However, any incorrect translation or mistake is entirely on me.

Italics are my own notes.

M. Herault de Sechelles, as everyone knows, was Advocate General in the Paris Parliament. He had wit, a lot of pretensions to the talent of speaking well, which he possessed very little of, a determined taste for metaphysics which ruined him, and above all an unbridled desire to have fame. Moreover, with everyone, and especially with the men whom he believed could serve to propagate his reputation, [he had] the most engaging manners, gentle forms and treated those around him with flattering equality to bolster their self-esteem. 

Young lawyers, principally, were the objects of his coquetry. He spied on their forces, and when he thought he had discovered that a beginner was worth winning over, he had no rest until he had attached him to his chariot by his attentions and courtesies. 

And to deserve his attention it was not necessary to have brilliant faculties; it was enough to be someone ordinary. I was precisely one of those men. So, I had my turn of seduction with M. Herault de Sechelles. He sought me out, made many advances to me, even coming to see me in a poor little apartment which I occupied at a cork maker. There was indeed, in these kindnesses of a great magistrate, for a poor little lawyer, the son of an artisan, enough to turn my head. So, he turned me around: and frankly, I began to love M. Herault with all my heart, to recommend him, to praise him, to celebrate, in short, as best I could, his fine and good qualities. 

He undoubtedly learned about it. He was very grateful to me: and to add to my enthusiasm by his good graces, he invited me with M. Pigeau, then his secretary at the Palace, to go and spend a few days of the holidays at his chateau at Epone*  

*Bellart writes Éponne here.  

One can judge the eagerness with which I accepted. On one of the first days of September, I therefore went there. I found there, besides the master of the house, a certain Y.....,* his private secretary (1), brother of the conventional of that name; M. de La Salle, the most obscure metaphysician of his time, author of the Desordre Regulier, and finally Vitry, prosecutor in parliament. The revolution had begun. I noticed it in the evening. 

*I’m not sure who this is referring to.

(1) The man of whom Bellart spoke here has been, for some years now, by his humility, by his piety, by the practice of all Christian works, the model of the most sincere conversion. Bellart most likely ignored it, since he didn’t comment on it, but I, who know who this man is, I had to say it. (Author's Note) [Billecoq].

And at supper and after supper the most extraordinary theses were raised. We were discussing them three against three, M. Pigeau, Vitry and myself on one side, M. Herault, Y..... and de La Salle on the other. I heard proposals to make my hair stand on end. God, religion, even the respect due to paternity, everything was called into question, and with a cynicism and freedom of expression that made me wonder more than once if I was not dreaming and if I was really with one of the first magistrates of France. M. Pigeau and I, when we retired to our rooms in the evening, we moaned, about everything we had heard, blaming on Y .... and de La Salle all the odious doctrines that the ease of character of M. Herault had made him welcome. For me, in my real tenderness for the latter, I was truly distressed.  

An incident happened the next day to divert me a little from my sad thoughts. Very early in the morning, the famous president of Saint-Fargeau [Lepeletier] arrived at M. Herault's, to whom he told, as he got out of the carriage, that he had spared himself a week to spend it with him. The master received this new guest wonderfully, and the two of them, with M. Pigeau and myself, went for a walk in the park while waiting for lunch. I don't know how it happened that we got together two by two. [Lepeletier] took possession of M. Pigeau for a few moments; I stayed with M. Herault. When we were a little apart from each other:  

"You heard,” said M. Herault to me, “[Lepeletier] telling me that he was coming to spend a week here. He won't even stay for dinner.”  

“- How! Why?”  

“I don't want to tell you that. You'll find out later. But you'll see if I'm prophesying correctly." 

He didn't want to go into more explanations then. Soon the lunch bell rang. Everyone from the night before gathered to meet the newcomer in the dining room. He looked rather distant, said little, and went out for a few moments towards the end of lunch, then returned to his place at the table. We chatted; half an hour passed. [Lepeletier]'s valet brought letters to his master, who, to read them, retired to an opening in the window. 

Soon he returned to M. Herault, to whom he declared, with great appearances of contradiction, that he was in despair, but that it was necessary to get him post horses without delay, since a matter of the greatest emergency recalled him immediately to Paris. M. Herault seemed to take this speech at face value. The horses came. [Lepeletier] left. When the carriage which carried him left the yard, M. Herault burst out laughing, saying to me: 

“Well! Will you now believe my prophecies?” I asked him for the key to the enigma.  

“The key to the enigma,” he replied, “is Vitry. " 

Everything was explained. Vitry was a prosecutor in parliament. [Lepeletier], such a great zealot of liberty and equality, was the most arrogant man who existed. He considered it a diminution of dignity to go down to dinner with a prosecutor. The prosecutor had put him to flight. This is where this execrable demagogue was then in his republicanism, he who voted for the death of his master. 

Rid of him, M. Herault and his guests returned to their ease. Metaphysical controversies resumed. In this cursed castle we only discussed, and God knows what we discussed! The master of the house rested from impieties with obscenities. Finally, in two or three days, I discovered that he was materialistic to the highest degree. My sorrows came back to me. I was losing respect for the master. I couldn't stop myself from retaining my affection for him. I set out to convert him. I clung to him. Several times, tete a tete, while out walking, I employed all my wisdom to combat his deplorable doctrines. I spoke to him with force, with warmth, with interest. 

"What a disheartening belief," I said to him one day, grasping his hands warmly, "to have in this world neither the interest to do good, nor a witness to the good one does, nor a goal toward which one strives while doing it. Religious beliefs, the desire to please God through love and charity towards others, the hope of being rewarded by being kind and obliging to others, even at one's own expense, are the foundations of benevolence, friendship, and generosity. In materialism, the universe is empty. Morality is even emptier. There remains no longer a single reason not to sacrifice others to a harsh and cruel selfishness."

As I was uttering these words with great heartfelt enthusiasm, my interlocutor could only discern one notion from it, namely that I feared his opinions might make his willingness to assist me grow colder; thus, seemingly, I was engaging in a dispute with him only for the sake of the safeguarding of his favor that I wished to maintain!

"Don't be afraid," he said to me in a tone that brought tears to my eyes, "even though I am a materialist, I will still take care to serve you if necessary." Ah !

“Advocate General,” I cried to him bitterly, “you are cruelly mistaken, it was not about me: it was only about you, but since we understand each other so little, let's talk about something else. " And we talked about something else. Indeed, this sordid suspicion, thrown on an outpouring of heart which would have made me at that moment almost sacrifice my life to pass into his soul, for his happiness, all the convictions which burned in mine, had the effect on me of icy water falling on hot coals. 

I made up my mind from that moment to make a short stay at E, where disgust pursued me all the more invincibly because my friendship, mingled with gratitude for the master, had at first been more exalted, and because the hope of seeing him return to reason and happiness had just died. A discovery which I made two days later made me make up my mind in a hasty manner.* 

*I can't believe Bellart doesn't tell us what he saw.

 I left the next day. I never saw M. Herault again in my life. 

I don't see him again at his house, at least. I contented myself with writing to his door at the times of the year when I could not have omitted this homage without exposing myself to the danger, either of appearing insolent, or of explaining my conduct. I saw him again sometimes, but in public, at the prosecutor's office, where the lawyers used to go before the hearing. I saw him there again to confirm myself in the estrangement which he inspired in me, and to which he added considerably by a story which I heard him tell one day. It was some time after the storming of the Bastille. The unfortunate Berthier had been massacred by the revolutionary cannibals, who paraded his sad remains in the capital. His head, carried on the end of a pike, had reached the top of the Faubourg Saint-Martin. However, M. Foulon, father-in-law of the victim, arrived at the same place, dragged in a cabriolet from which the imperial had been torn off, by another troop of scoundrels, who also demanded with loud cries that they hang him from a lantern. The two bands met. The monster who bore Berthier's head had the ferocity to bring it closer to Foulon's and to force this poor old man, half dead, to kiss it. 

It was precisely this execrable adventure that M. Herault related. He told it with a kind of naturalness and lightness that made me shiver. He told it almost pleasantly, and as if he had told something that would have been nothing but ridiculous. And when he came to the atrocious act of having wanted the unfortunate father-in-law to lay his lips on this head separated from the trunk of his own son-in-law, he smiled, saying "Just imagine this scene, and this bastard presenting his head to the father-in-law, as if he had said to the son-in-law, kiss dad, kiss dad."* These words froze me. I didn't want to hear any more coming out of that coldly cruel mouth. Never have I seen him since.  

*The actual French here has him saying, “Baise papa, Bais papa". You may translate that as you wish.  

This man was not a barbarian; he was not even revolutionary. He was so little [a revolutionary] that, when asked which political party he was from, he answered: “the one that doesn’t give a fuck about the two others.” And it was true. He was selfish; he was a philosopher; he was materialistic. He wanted to escape, to live, to live like animals. He was neither good nor bad. He possessed neither virtues nor vices, at least not the kind that harm others; and with all that, either through absolute carelessness, the primary trait of that base soul, or through complete indifference to good and evil, or, finally, due to a crude desire for his own survival, he complied with whatever was desired, took part in crimes, and voted for the death of his king, and perished on a scaffold, in the midst of brigands whom he had made his fellows, his companions and his friends. I dwelt on this man, because I recently read his eulogy, and I felt indignant. 

[rhubarb-newt]

i was gonna write a long in-depth explanatory version of this post before the new episode came out but ran out of spoons editing it. so here’s the mildly unhinged version, brought to you by my catholic trauma.

the yellowjackets cult is really, really catholic, you guys.

both Laura Lee and Jackie are being treated like Christ figures of the group(I will elaborate on Jackie later). frankly I could also see a version where Laura Lee is the Virgin Mary, but she sacrified/martyred herself in an attempt to save her team and is mentor and guide to Lottie, and is the one to really introduce religion to the group.

Not to mention this scene-

lots of people comparing this to the Alice in Wonderland tea party, which I don’t fully think is inaccurate, but to me this actually resembles The Last Supper? which brings us to this

it should be pointed out that Lottie was the first to leave early because Laura Lee asked/forced her to. similarly, Jesus at the last supper called out telling the one who betrayed him to leave - which means Lottie is fulfilling the Judas role. Or rather, Lottie thinks of herself as Judas.

it’s worth pointing out that she blames herself for Laura Lee’s death, foresaw it but didn’t recognize what was happening and therefore didn’t stop it. Lottie actually holds a similar level of responsibility for Jackie dying because she was the one in charge of the group that turned on Jackie and told Coach not to interfere when Jackie went out into the cold.

When Judas betrayed Jesus he did not know they were going to kill him. Judas was wrought with grief over his mistake and tried to return the silver he’d sold Jesus out for, and committed suicide. With adult Lottie spiralling back into visions, this does make me worry a lot about her. 

Obviously Lottie’s visions play a role in this and she’s being hailed as a prophet, though an unwilling one. It’s clear she does not want the attention and is fostering hidden guilt. 

Taissa, especially in the most recent episode, is being positioned as a saint, though I could not tell you which one. Van has fully ascribed divine influence onto Taissa’s “shadow self” and aligned her with Lottie’s religious leadership even though Tai openly dismisses it. I’m reminded of saints speaking in tongues. I have less to say on Tai than anyone else, in part because I don’t understand her role just yet, but the impression that her shadow self is not fully evil seems to only enforce this role for her. 

finally bringing us to Jackie and Shauna - Jackie is not nearly as obvious as a Christ figure as Laura Lee is. In truth, both of them are functioning as Christ figures for the sake of other characters, being Lottie and Shauna. 

Jackie is functioning as the maligned aspects of Christ. The coach selected her as team captain because “she has influence,” she is the prodigal son, the popular girl, the moral compass, which all falls apart the moment the team is in the wilderness. She refuses to go along with the demands of living in the forest (resisting the temptations of the devil, as the forest is working as a malevolent entity) and is immediately, somewhat rightfully, resented for it. Jackie is certainly not perfect, can be nasty at times, and is pushed out of the group to freeze. After she’s dead though... well...

Jackie serves as communion. Note how Lottie and Shauna are the first to approach. Shauna says “she wants us to,” projecting on Jackie that this was a sacrifice of some kind for their survival. That Jesus has broken the bread and poured the wine, saying “this is my body and blood, do this in memory of me.” 

But Jackie, as far as we’ve known her, would not have wanted this. She would have been disgusted at the thought. And I think that’s key - we see Jackie through Shauna’s eyes, and Shauna is projecting.

Shauna is the first to eat Jackie. She is the one to spill blood in the adult timeline. Lottie and the cult members have latched onto Shauna’s baby and the birth as something to celebrate, despite their isolation. Shauna is the protagonist of the series.

But perhaps most on the nose - Shauna had three chances to save Jackie

and denied her

three times.

Shauna is Saint Peter, the first pope. She is the one who breaks cultural barriers and is a leader in her own right, though she would never own up to it. Peter denied knowing Jesus three times on the night of crucifixion, to protect himself, and wept upon the third denial when he realized his betrayal and what it meant.

 Peter is known for being a fisherman, directly paralleled in Shauna Shipman, and was called upon to be a fisher of men when Jesus was collecting his disciples. Seems pretty dark when you consider Shauna inadvertently lured in and killed a man named Adam of all people. Not to mention her role as the butcher, not far off. 

Regarding Shauna’s pregnancy I’ve seen a lot of people supposing her baby may be an antichrist. I haven’t made up my mind about this but it does seem the cult that is forming is growing very attached to the idea of Shauna’s baby. I think if the baby survives it is going to further symbolize something, “on this rock I will build my church” etc, to begin the growth of their cult.

One last parallel - Jackie’s necklace, gifted to Shauna twice, is seen around Mari Pit Girl’s neck, before she’s hung upside down to bleed out. Saint Peter, when he was killed, was crucified upside down because he believed he did not deserve to die the same way Jesus did. 

This could all be wild speculation but... with the way Mari’s been acting? could very easily be Shauna passing her final judgment.

tldr the way the girls see themselves, is super christian and it’s only going to escalate from here

[dougielombax]

I’m frankly amazed at the sheer number of idiotic Christians who think that Christianity is some sort of indigenous European religion.

Like they genuinely think it originated among the Romans as their indigenous religion.

(Fused with ghastly, far right, nativistic sentiments about “tradition” for additional measure. Ghastly stuff!)

Which it’s not.

That’s stupid, ignorant and insulting.

Since it ignores and shuns the Middle Eastern origins of the Christian religion AND implies erasure or nonexistence of pre-Christian European religions and beliefs.

This kind of idiocy is especially prevalent among the European and American far right.

It’s astoundingly stupid.

Weapons-grade ignorance.

I’d blame the Romans for that shit. Among others…

Now I’ll admit I’m no expert on theology or religion. I study history.

They seem to think that Jesus was some kind of white, English-speaking, conquering king!

When he wasn’t. He was a dark skinned, Aramaic-speaking Jew from Nazareth working as a carpenter who was regarded as something of a local eccentric.

(A few idiots in my own country think Jesus was a white fella from Kilkenny, but thankfully they’re seen for the idiots they are)

He was just some guy.

This is basic stuff.

Everyone knows the religion originated in the Levant! (Yes I know it spread to the Roman Empire (throughout its territories in Europe, Africa and Asia) and to the rest of Europe beyond that eventually but shut up! That’s not my point!)

Fucking bumbrained nativistic idiocy!

Be rid of it!

It’s like spiritual whitewashing! Or revisionism.

Or both.

Fucking morons!

Plus it’s insulting towards Christianity’s roots in the Middle East, and by extension Syriac christianity as a whole.

I think the religion as a whole is in DIRE need of a good overhaul of its colonial, imperialist and antisemitic baggage.

Like it needs to renounce ALL of that shit.

Starting yesterday.

I don’t care how many bigots would lose their shit, this NEEDS to happen.

[kopivie]

oh and for the record, i don't hate god. i just don't understand why christianity and catholicism seem to use fear and punishment as its way of keeping people in line.

growing up, what made me happiest was engaging in honors with my friends. (for context, pathfinders to adventists is what boy/girl scouts are to literally everyone else, but with added evangelism, camping, outreach, etc.) i loved attending youth congress every january, where i could be in a fancy hotel and learn how to become a leader in my adventist community. i love -- and still love -- teaching drilling and marching and drumming in a drum corps. hell, my favorite method of evangelism was standing in a subway station with my club and singing and praying for people who just needed some comfort for the day.

what bothered me to my core was the constant need for the adults to whip us into shape using religious threats. what would god say? don't use his name in vain (which, for the record, is completely different from what i was told growing up). god hates transgender people. we will never hold gay marriages. even if you are gay and a dedicated adventist, we can fix that. bad things happen to you because god said it was supposed to happen to you.

ooh, and my all-time favorite: if you're depressed, just give it all to god and he'll fix it.

but i thought this was part of his plan? oh, was me being suicidal a step too far?

i fully understand that human beings need to cling on to something higher than themselves. that's why we have astrology and several different religions (nontheistic religions included). the feeling that the universe has something planned for you, or that some higher power will comfort you when no one else will is... a nice thought. even though i avoid church like the plague, i still find myself relinquishing my troubles to god in a pinch. (hell, i'm listening to gospel right now to ease my anxiety so i can focus on studying.)

the thing that steers me away from religion, however, is the lack of agency that i apparently have. god's time isn't working for me. the rest of the world isn't like me, might not know god the way i know him. the world doesn't function on god's clock -- the world functions on a 24-hour or 12-hour clock, okay? i have deadlines, payments to make, things at risk. i can't wait around for god to help me. and oh no, god forbid i get mad with god in my impatience – there are several stories in which people are harshly punished for that. it's almost like being a human being with natural emotions is punishable by death in lots of scenarios.

or in my case, punishable by social exile. bc in the end, the issue will always be with the churchgoers and not the deity itself. (in my story it's the other way around, but we move.) the people who watched me grow up, even close family friends, all treated me like a pariah because i did things like cut and dye my hair and get piercings. i was a babysitter and role model for many kids -- suddenly, their parents are telling them to stay away from me and giving me dirty looks. god's not doing that – the people are.

but that's how you end up with people like me; people who don't know where to direct their frustrations and anger and resentment. do i blame the people? do i blame god? do i blame myself? and if i withdraw my faith in god, can i stop feeling this terrible? where does his plan end and mine begin?

idk, man. religion is weird. you can see why i want to explore this idea of humans relying on themselves instead of a higher power that quite frankly, can't be trusted.

[prettycottonmouthlamia]

So I was doing a quick google search for the Dramatic Paths or whatever Yugioh card that's behind those funny meme images because I wanted to shitpost about my IS3 experience and the first google image that I saw, that google decided to show me, was a version of that meme where "becoming a trans woman" was set opposite of "becoming a white supremacist". It was one of those "don't ask a trans woman what she was doing when she was 14" memes that I really despise so I figured I would sit down with my thoughts.

When I was 14, I was in a cult. I was not in a far-right organization, I was not a white supremacist, and I was not a Nazi. I take great pride in that, because that's somehow become an accomplishment on the internet these days. But I was a Jehovah's Witness. Jehovah's Witnesses are for all intents and purposes, a conservative high-control Christian cult, despite their attempts to rhetoric their way out of that label. I don't really blame myself for being in the cult, since it was exposed to me while I was very young, but I think about my experiences with it a lot.

I suffered emotional abuse from cult members I'm still recovering from, I suffered trauma at the hands of the religious teachings which existed to chip away at me until nothing original remained, and ultimately, lots of Jehovah's Witnesses end up becoming quite bad people. The problem with an isolationist religion is that any kindness you feel or receive is conditional; its conditional on your continued interest in the religion, and whether you will continue to make the steps so that the religion takes over your entire life. I was learning to become like that until I had some moments of realization and got out.

But I don't really joke about my experiences in the religion pretty much at all. I sometimes joke about various things surrounding the religion, like some of its literature, because sometimes it is genuinely really funny. I was taught masturbation was bad and evil by their youth literature but they were scared that describing what masturbation actually was would make people try it, so until I was about 14 I had no idea what masturbation was as like, a concept.

But I don't joke about being a Witness, and I'm pretty sure if you did the math, there are probably more Witnesses around the world than there were alt-right members in the United States back when I was 14. Being a Witness was not a fun, quirky thing that happened in my past. It was something that came with a ton of baggage. It came with hateful teachings. Being a Witness warps your view around science and the world in a way that is honestly frankly terrifying.

Being a Witness is also not as bad as being a Nazi. Jehovah's Witnesses actually faced persecution for their beliefs at the hands of the Nazi Party, and while there is a lot to be said about how that happened and how Jehovah's Witnesses have decided to frame that and incorporate that into their religious views, it's still a thing that, you know, happened. Witnesses are overall responsible for a lot of individual harm and a fair amount of systemic harm within their own organization, but as a group they are very politically apathetic. They don't really care about something like the Palestinian genocide outside of using it to push their belief on the end times; to a Witness, what is more important is the safety of Witnesses that might be in Gaza.

(This isn't a bit by the way. Jehovah's Witnesses are ultimately an apocalypse cult trying very desperately not to be. They see any desire to improve the world outside of missionary work to be ultimately futile and not worth bothering with, and with their general views that the outside world is out to get them, this has resulted in a very insular philosophy. Major world events still happen, but their perceptions have warped them into a mold where the major people who need help first are Witnesses.)

I treat my involvement with the cult very seriously, to the point where I probably annoy my friends with how much I piss about how bad they are. It's completely unfathomable to me how one can make light of being in a worse group. It communicates to me a fundamental unseriousness, a lack of desire to actually confront and come to terms with one's own agency and involvement. No one is saying you should flagellate under your death for being part of a white supremacist movement; they, like Witnesses, have evangelical recruitment strategies for a reason. But you shouldn't find it something to laugh about. It should be deathly fucking serious to you.

I've never allowed these kind of jokes and memes in the communities I've watched over and moderated. I want my communities to be safe spaces for queer Jewish people, and queer people of color. Those kind of memes communicate to me that you don't really care. And you should. You really should.

[docholligay]

Ah yes, now that we, the audience, fully love Roland and that he's proven to be a good guy, even given his position as a Chasseur, we must now find ourselves a new class of bad guy. So we see the close up of Olivier's cross, and it has a little purple stone--I assume he's the leader of this 'unit' or something--and of course he blames Roland for something that he has no honest idea or evidence of it being his fault.

If I had to lay money right here right now, no actual knowledge, I would say Olivier is more of a, not legalistic, but he doesn't actually live by principles, he lives by orders. There's a difference, and they can exist easily between people working for the same organization and even, technically, working for the same thing. I think it's actually more common than people think, going back to the whole 'integrity' thing. If someone tells you "all vampires are bad. " If your entire social circle says, "Vampires aren't to be trusted, and want humans dead." Can you actually think for yourself? Can you think, "No, I don't think that's true based on my experiences, or at the very least, it's reductive." I've seen a lot on tumblr. Marching orders in place of ideals is more common than you think*.

*and frankly I get it, it's why legalistic religions have historically enjoyed popularity. Doing what your communal group says is right or wrong is easy, it doesn't involve thinking and deciding and choosing and those are all, not me making a joke, exhausting things. Particularly nowadays when we're asked to care about everything, when a human being simply CANNOT. but yeah a lot of the enforced lockstep shunning thoughtcrime stuff that gets popular online is all coming out of this, particularly a Christian version of this, often by people who would disavow Christianity.

I have never seen this show and know absolutely nothing about it! As that is the fun of having me liveblog this, please let it be fun for EVERYONE by not confirming denying, hinting, saying things like “oh just wait til episode x’, telling me about outside interviews, or anything that is cultural or historical that I’m not picking up on! PLEASE LET ME BE A STUPID PIECE OF SHIT

[unravelingthepages]

If We Were Villians- a review (read: an explanation for my adoration for this book)

If We Were Villians by M. L Rio is a dark academia book that I will probably always remember fondly. I loved the writing, the characters, and their respective personalities so so much. I definitely found it a 5 star read. Read below to find out more about why I would recommend it to you too :))

(I do have a word of warning- please do not try to compare it to The Secret History by Donna Tartt. I went in with this impression that it's similar and though it has surface level similarities, it is very different. While that impression did not affect my love for this book, it did give me expectations that were not fair to this book and the author's writing. Yes, both are within the realm of dark academia but If We Were Villians is much faster paced and should not be compared to The Secret History which for me atleast was a book to slowly digest and not binge read like I did the former. That being said, I loved and highly recommend reading both!! You can read my review of The Secret History by Donna Tartt here in case you're interested- https://unravelingthepages.wordpress.com/2023/02/18/the-secret-history-reasons-i-loved-it/)

Book blurb

Oliver Marks has just served ten years in jail - for a murder he may or may not have committed. On the day he's released, he's greeted by the man who put him in prison. Detective Colborne is retiring, but before he does, he wants to know what really happened a decade ago.

As one of seven young actors studying Shakespeare at an elite arts college, Oliver and his friends play the same roles onstage and off: hero, villain, tyrant, temptress, ingenue, extra. But when the casting changes, and the secondary characters usurp the stars, the plays spill dangerously over into life, and one of them is found dead. The rest face their greatest acting challenge yet: convincing the police, and themselves, that they are blameless.

Why you should read it

-I think I had a rather limited understanding of how Shakespeare's plays were meant to be acted until now. But after this book- the way Shakespeare is almost an active character in this book… chef's kiss

“Do you blame Shakespeare for any of it?” The question is so unlikely, so nonsensical coming from such a sensible man, that I can’t suppress a smile. “I blame him for all of it.”

The characters were frankly amazing. I loved how each character was, their personalities were so dynamic and just so real. A large part of it was how Oliver (the narrator and protagonist) describes them and how we get to see them through his lenses.

“For us, everything was a performance.” A small, private smile catches me off guard and I glance down, hoping he won’t see it. “Everything poetic.”

“When did we become such terrible people?” “Maybe we’ve always been terrible.”

The conversations between the characters. They were full of dry humor, pain, hidden meanings and literary references- sometimes all at once! They lived deep in the world of theatre and the author's writing transports you right into the world where pretty words masked tragedies alongside the characters.

“When we first walked through those doors, we did so without knowing that we were now part of some strange fanatic religion where anything could be excused so long as it was offered at the altar of the Muses. Ritual madness, ecstasy, human sacrifice.”

All-in-all, while I do think you need to read this book to understand exactly what I'm talking about, this should give you a brief delve into the world and help you decide whether this is something you would pick up. If it IS something you would pick up, I hope you love it as much as I did!! It's the kind of read that sticks with you as a fond memory of a read you loved and one can get engrossed in during your fifth re-read, just as easily as you had the first time.

If you’re planning on purchasing this read, please consider using the following amazon affiliate link to purchase it. It would be at no extra cost to you and would really help me out, thank you!

purchase this read: https://amzn.to/4a8BhkR

“..I need language to live, like food—lexemes and morphemes and morsels of meaning nourish me with the knowledge that, yes, there is a word for this. Someone else has felt it before.” M.L. Rio, If We Were Villians

[blackjackkent]

⚠️ - If this oc came with a warning sign, what would it be?

🧠 - What is their stress response: fight, flight, freeze, or fawn? 💔 - Does forgiveness come easily or with difficulty to this oc? Can they forgive others? What about themselves?

🌍 - What are this oc’s religious views?

💛 - Are they ‘good with children’, or more awkward?

🌱 - Share one of this oc’s early memories. 🐉 - Very serious question… are they more like a dragon, or a unicorn?

For rakha!!!! Answer whichevee youd like

(Emojis OC ask game)

⚠️ - If this oc came with a warning sign, what would it be?

"Warning: Escalates to Murder Rapidly" XD

Also possibly "Warning: Asks Direct Questions Always" :P

🧠 - What is their stress response: fight, flight, freeze, or fawn?

Definitely fight. :P The "beast" always has an easier time coming to the forefront when she's stressed, upset, or angry, or really in any high emotional state.

Sometimes manifests as "freeze" though bc she'll get locked up trying to fight herself internally.

💔 - Does forgiveness come easily or with difficulty to this oc? Can they forgive others? What about themselves?

This one's a bit interesting. With people she doesn't directly interact with or care about, she's likely to punish transgressions against her pretty intensely - for instance, if Dolly Dolly Dolly had stuck around to see the aftermath of the clown makeup she probably would have ended up pasted into the nearby wall. But with the limited number of people she does care about - which is basically just her companions and, a little more broadly, people like Jaheira who are her allies against a greater enemy - she is FAR more likely to forgive and, in fact, to redirect the blame into an assumption of her own fault instead.

(I'm basing this primarily on her interactions with Lae'zel - the strained period in their relationship was, frankly, primarily Lae'zel's fault, but Rakha interpreted it as her own failing and ended up being the one to apologize for it first. I suspect any other similar falling-outs with her companions would go similarly.)

🌍 - What are this oc’s religious views?

So far (ironically, given what I know of coming Plot Developments) Rakha really doesn't care about religion? In fact, she only really has negative associations with it, as her experiences with it so far are primarily through the lens of: a) the Selunite temple, which was overrun by goblins, b) Shadowheart's worship of Shar, which involves electric shocks to the back of the hand, c) Lae'zel's worship of Vlaakith, which involved betrayal after two decades of loyal service, d) Gale's worship of Mystra, which involves being told to kill himself, and e) Isobel.

So her thoughts are basically: clearly it's important to a lot of people who are important to me, but like, why?

💛 - Are they ‘good with children’, or more awkward?

Awkward. Rakha only interacted with the tiefling kids a little bit, and she didn't dislike them but didn't really have any idea of how to interact with them other than with the same bluntness she brings to everyone else. She is oddly invested in Mol's well-being at this point, but it doesn't mean she knows how to talk to her lol.

🌱 - Share one of this oc’s early memories.

None that I am aware of at this point. XD So far the furthest back we've seen was the noblestalk memory which definitely happened when she was a grown woman. I'll probably be able to answer this a bit better if/when I learn more about her from before her memory loss.

🐉 - Very serious question… are they more like a dragon, or a unicorn?

I would say dragon. Rakha would definitely be down with breathing fire if she were capable of it. :P

[ladyofsnark]

(I might make this a small series, I'm not sure. I've always been fascinated by the idea of an Avvar Inquisitor so here we are.)

“I’ll stay until I get what I want. After that, I’m leaving.”

“We cannot protect you if you leave. There are still those who think you are guilty of the Divine’s murder.”

“And who would tell them where I’ve gone, Spymaster? You’re not interested in protecting me. Otherwise you wouldn’t be making such thinly veiled threats. You just want to use me like your people always use mages until, like spoiled children, you cast them aside when they cease to amuse. I would respect you more if you dragged me about in chains. That, at least, would be honest.”

“There are hundreds of innocent lives relying on the Inquisition to seal the rifts!”

“Then I suggest you get working on a solution, Seeker.”

“Do you think you’ll be any safer from the demons on your own?”

“Why wouldn’t I be, Commander? I have the mark.”

Varric had heard the whole argument go down–the whole camp probably had. It seemed like their Herald of Andraste didn’t care much for being a herald of anything and, frankly, Varric didn’t blame her.

No one had asked her if she wanted to be involved. It seemed like nothing but shitty luck that put her in the wrong place at the right time and she’d only stopped the Breach from growing because, well, what were the options? Rot in a cell while the world went to hell? Let the mark eat her alive?

Not to mention that the reverence of Andrastians probably didn’t matter much to an Avvar mage. He would write later that it was probably some kind of divine justice or just irony that the so-called Herald of Andraste turned out to be a pagan.

Varric watched the Herald storm pass without even a glance at the messengers and servants who bowed to her respectfully. Cassandra followed closely on her heels, but Varric reached out to catch the Seeker’s arm. It was more of a reflex than anything and he let go right away when she whirled around to look at him. “You might want to give her some space,” he said. “Unless you intend to arrest her again, in which case I suggest stronger chains than last time.”

            Cassandra snarled and wound up for a rebuttal, but the fight went out of her just as fast. She looked after the Herald and let out a long breath. “We cannot lose her…”

            “I’m sure Red’s on it already. She probably can’t get too far, what with the world having just almost ended.”

            That didn’t seem to reassure the Seeker any. She began to pace in front of the fire. “She is an Avvar. They are skilled rangers and outdoorsmen. If anyone could disappear and survive in these mountains on their own—demons or not—it is one of their kind.”

            “And they don’t worship Andraste, so being a religious icon for a religion you don’t even believe in is probably a lot to take in,” Varric replied. He dropped back onto the bench nearest the fire and reached for Bianca. He had been fiddling with the crossbow’s timing coil before he’d been interrupted by the commotion. “After almost dying, waking up, almost dying again, and waking up again she might need a second to put it all in order.”

            Cassandra heaved a sigh and paced for a few moments longer. Then, somewhat reluctantly, she turned to face the dwarf. “Would you…” She frowned to herself, as if annoyed with her own words. “You are better with people than I am.”

            “No, Seeker. You have such a charming personality.”

            “Ugh, now is not the time, dwarf. I am asking if you would go and speak with her.”

            Varric glanced in the direction the Herald had gone. It wasn’t that he was a coward, but he did have a healthy, long-standing respect for women who could kick his short ass. Especially when they could do it with magic. “That’s a pretty big favor to ask considering where you and I stand, Seeker.”

            “It is not as if I am not asking you this for my own sake, Varric.”

            Great. Chantry guilt. He wondered if they taught that in the cloister. Sebastian had been good at it too. Not convincing, but good.

            The dwarf sighed and got to his feet. “Fine, but Curly better come with me. If I’m going to deal with an angry Avvar, I want a sacrificial lamb to offer her.”

*

            Ysara. Varric couldn’t remember if the Herald had introduced herself or if the Seeker had done it for her, but he did remember the name as he hoofed it out to the edge of the valley. He remembered thinking it was a pretty name for someone with the personality of a bloated gurgut. Which wasn’t fair. She hadn’t been in a position to be friendly at the time and still wasn’t, really. Cassandra wasn’t the most solicitous person in the best of circumstances and as a jailor, she rubbed in all of the wrong ways. Then there was the Nightingale…

Varric eventually found the Herald taking shelter from the howling winds in the treeline. She had the makings of a small camp with a fire burning bright in the center and a little lean-to constructed of tree boughs.

She seemed to realize, a moment too late, that he was there and surged to her feet, the fire beside her jumping to her hands as she drew from it. It almost looked like a reflex.

“Hey, it’s just me,” Varric said quickly, raising his hands in a show of innocence as he stepped into the clearing.

Ysara snorted, but her posture relaxed a little and the fire in her hand dissipated. “You’ve either grown an extra set of legs that wear armor or it is not just you.”

“All right, it’s just me and Curly,” he amended. “But mostly me. The commander’s just here to look pretty.”

She scoffed again, echoed by Cullen as he came out of the treeline, but lingered on the edge of the fire’s light. Still, the Herald settled back down on the snow. The fire plied harsh shadows across her features, but without the ghoulish warpaint Varric had first seen her wearing, she looked downright delicate. Young. Vulnerable. It wasn’t something he’d have naturally associated with one of the Avvar and it made Varric think of Hawke when they’d first met. His chest ached a little with the memory.

“You know, you have a pretty nice cabin back in Haven,” Varric said conversationally as he came over to sit by the fire. He put enough space between them to make her comfortable. “Not to your tastes?”

“Nothing is to my tastes at the moment,” she replied, though her words lacked venom. She just sounded tired. Lost, almost. “Did you come here for something?”

Varric shrugged. “The Seeker asked me to talk to you. She won’t admit it, but I have the reputation for being quite charming. That’s apparently supposed to give me some kind of advantage here, but you seem to have your mind made up.”

Ysara’s eyes shifted toward the treeline, pausing briefly on the commander, before returning to the fire. “If your people bothered at all to understand magic instead of flinching at the faintest wisp of it and caging your mages like feral animals, the mark would not be needed,” she said.

“You really believe that?” Varric asked.

“The Breach was created by magic, which means that it can also be undone by magic. But your church has spent hundreds of years cultivating a flock of ignorant, superstitious hand-wringers they control with fear and hate. They use and then cast aside mages, as Andrastians did to the elves and as Tevinter does with slaves.” Ysara looked Varric directly in the eye. “I have no interest in helping people who have never helped themselves. Let the vultures pick their corpses clean. I care not.”

Well. He had to give her points for honesty.

And what was he supposed to say? That she had to be the hero here because they didn’t have anyone else? No one sane wanted to be the hero. He knew that better than anyone. Was he really supposed to ask her to throw herself on the sword for people who would never give her the time of day otherwise?

Varric rubbed at his face and decided to take a different tack. “What exactly are you looking for?” he asked. “You said you wanted something.”

She shot him a furtive, skeptical glance. “What I need is in Redcliffe,” she admitted at length.

“Ah,” the dwarf murmured in understanding. “You need to get into Redcliffe and the Inquisition is your ticket inside. What if the Inquisition decides it doesn’t need the mages?”

“The gates are not keeping me from what I want,” she replied. “If I chose to use force, I would already have it. But I won’t attack another hold without cause. So I will wait.”

Well. Ysara certainly didn’t lack confidence and given what she’d done to that pride demon at the Temple? Varric didn’t doubt her either. “It must be pretty important,” he said. 

“It is.”

“And I’m guessing you aren’t going to give any specifics.”

“No.”

“Not even if I offer to help?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I will not hand anyone the power to control me.”

Varric made a quiet noise of understanding. Now that made sense. This wasn’t just a case of being cold-hearted, nor was it anger born of being caught in the middle of a shitty situation. It was anger and isolation born of fear. Ysara was just trying to keep her head above water and protect what was hers. He glanced back over his shoulder toward Cullen, who he could see anxiously rubbing his neck, like the mage’s words had unsettled him.

He wondered what was in Redcliffe that was so important to her that she thought others could use it against her. 

“All right,” the dwarf sighed. “Look, I’m going to say my piece and then I’ll leave you alone, all right?”

Ysara answered with a shrug.

Which was the closest thing he’d get to acceptance, Varric thought. “No one asked you before throwing all of this shit on your shoulders. And no one’s saying you’re wrong to be mad–least of all me. I’ve seen what the worst parts of the Chantry can do and I’ve seen it drive good people to do awful shit in return. But the fact of the matter is that the ones with the power–they’re all dead. They got a nice, quick death. Their flock won’t be that lucky. You might not owe them anything, but this right here–” He waved a hand to indicate Haven and everything else. “This might be the only chance we’re going to get to change things for everyone–the only chance you’ll get to change things. And if you ignore it, you’ll be just like everyone else who let themselves be controlled by fear.”

The Avvar was still as she sat, staring into the fire. Varric saw her hands clench and for a second, the fire in front of her brightened and grew hotter, the center of it turning into a molten, burning blue for an instant before it settled again.

“I will help the Inquisition however I can until we seal the Breach,” she said, eventually. “After that… we’ll see.”

Varric almost pointed out that that wasn’t really all that different what she’d said before. But he supposed beggars couldn’t be choosers and this time she had at least offered to help, instead of presumably letting herself merely be dragged from place-to-place. At any rate, they weren’t in the position to demand anything more