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seakicker · 2 years

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hello i have returned w priest childe food

as ofc the reader is a naive nun, they had no idea what to do with this growing situation between their legs. in fact, reader believes that this was some sort of force was trying to tempt them away from their duties. considering how well they trust childe as he was the one who took them in, they go to him for help. little would they know, reader would end up bent over the podium, taking his massive cock over and over and over again while reciting a prayer of salvation that he deemed necessary for this ritual

yes yes yes, this indeed... it's easy to feed you lies when it comes to sex and intimacy when he's starting with a total blank slate. he doesn't have to go through the process of reversing or overriding what you already know when you don't know anything... he very well could convince you that children are made when two people who love each other hold hands lmfao

cw: afab + gn reader, reader is a nun and childe is the head priest. religious themes/talk, emotional manipulation, reader is Desperate for approval, dubious consent (reader consents but because of the idea of "i need to do this" rather than active sexual desire), abuse of power/authority, no foreplay/childe pushes into you when you're kinda dry

also crossposted to ao3 if you prefer to read content there.

It is not within a nun’s line of duty to indulge.

Your tiny little monastery bedroom is noticeably devoid of any furniture or decorations beyond your bed, desk, dresser, and bedside book compiling all of the church’s values and teachings in their service to the Tsaritsa. You get by with only what you must; you don’t waste your money on frivolous, unnecessary items to enhance your appearance or show off any sort of social standing. You sustain yourself with simple, basic foods like potato soup and bread; any food item more fanciful would be better either gifted to the homeless or to the Tsaritsa Herself as an offering.

If you have the money to throw at purchases of expensive clothing, fine dining, or fancy interior decorations, then you have the money to donate to the church or otherwise put to better use than downright wasting it on yourself.

Just as it is not their duty to indulge in the more tangible pleasures of mankind, a nun needn’t concern themselves with relationships outside of that of the one between them and the Tsaritsa. Needless to say, romantic and sexual relationships are explicitly forbidden— such depraved encounters only serve as distractions from your one true duty: your service to the Tsaritsa.

Save for the Archon Herself, no figure has been more vital to the development and enhancement of your faith in the Tsaritsa and Her kindness, loyalty to the Greater Cathedral of Snezhnaya as a gesture of gratitude for all the kindness it has blessed you with, and insistence on always being the best representation of Her you can be than the monastery’s head priest Tartaglia.

It’s hard to remember anything of note from your life prior to joining the Church— Tartaglia took you in about two years ago out of the goodness of his own heart as a member of the clergy; he mentioned that he is but a vessel for the Tsaritsa’s divine kindness and that it is his duty as a direct representative of her to pay that kindness forward. Turning his back on a destitute, helpless being, someone created in the Tsaritsa’s own image at that— you’re just as much a creation of Her as he is—like yourself at the time would have gone against everything the Church stands for.

A whispered promise to deliver you from the vices and horrors of man and into the warm, loving embrace of the Tsaritsa was all it took for you to accept Tartaglia’s invitation to the Church. You would have accepted any offer of food and shelter at that time— whether or not it was simply luck or divine fate that it was Tartaglia who found you, cold and ill and alone, is beyond your comprehension. As far as you’re concerned, it’s both— who alive could show you more kindness than Tartaglia has throughout the past two years?

In addition to his otherworldly kindness, Tartaglia has shown you no shortage of patience since he took you in and insisted to personally teach you in the gospel of the Tsaritsa and personally train you in all the duties of a good, faithful nun. His affectionate nickname of “little lamb” has stuck with you ever since he first called you a lost one: a wayward, helpless, lost little lamb in dire need of the Tsaritsa’s— and his— guiding hand. He dressed you in the warm, soft dress and robes customary of all nuns, a massive upgrade from the tattered, worn clothes he found you in. When he had asked you if they fit your body comfortably, you didn’t tell him that they felt a little tight around your bust or your hips— beggars can’t be choosers, and all of his teachings of gratitude and thankfulness would go to waste were you to have the audacity to complain about a brand-new, clean, fresh outfit, wouldn’t they? Who on Tsaritsa’s green planet would even dream of complaining about anything when they previously had nothing?

You know better. Even if you didn’t know better before, you certainly do now— Tartaglia’s gentle guidance has taught you at least that much.

“Little lamb,” Tartaglia calls, resting a hand over yours as you go to flip a page in the Scripture book you’re holding. A chronicle of the Tsaritsa’s historical feats and accomplishments in addition to her dream for all of Snezhnaya, rather all of Teyvat, serves as the basis for the Church’s teachings, and Tartaglia personally ensures that you don’t fall behind on your readings by meeting with you every Monday evening. The desolate silence of the Cathedral after hours serves as the location for these studies— it allows you to immerse yourself in the grandiosity and significance of the Cathedral while you read.

He clears his throat and repeats himself. “Little lamb, stay focused.”

You smile sheepishly like a child caught sneaking a treat. “I’m sorry,” you offer, glancing over at Tartaglia’s gloved hand resting on your bare one.

He hums. “Something on your mind?”

Ah. He’s always been able to see right through you— whereas someone else may have just concluded that you were growing bored of reading after having done so for three hours straight, Tartaglia deduces that your mind is elsewhere. He deduces not that you’re bored of the Tsartisa’s divine accomplishments because you’re a good, dutiful, dignified nun who would never, ever tire of hearing of Her feats. He can confidently assert that you’re everything a nun representing the Tsaritsa should be because he personally taught you everything you know.

Your cheeks grow hot with embarrassment. Allowing your mind to wander when you should be focusing on Her teachings is mortifying enough, but being caught daydreaming by Tartaglia is leagues more humiliating. “It’s nothing, I promise. Surely nothing more deserving of my attention than our studies.”

Tartaglia hums again as if he’s in thought then moves to close your book, resting his hand on the front cover. “Well, if it’s important enough to distract you from our readings, then it has to be worth hearing out, right?”

You didn’t think of it that way. Finally forcing yourself to make eye contact with him, you take a deep breath to steady yourself and begin speaking. “It’s embarrassing, really,” you force a shaky laugh in an attempt to lighten the mood… or maybe it’s to distract you from the fact that the useless, wasteful wandering of your mind just caused Tartaglia to end your lessons early.

“It’s just that I…” Your voice grows quieter and quieter the more you attempt to speak.

Tartaglia leans in closer, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “You can say it, little lamb.”

“It’s humiliating, truly,” you finally continue. “But recently I… I’ve been having thoughts in need of purging, sir. M-More frequently than usual— they’ve only grown in frequency and intensity since our last cleansing.”

Thoughts in need of purging or, in other words, sexual thoughts that you’ve been taught to never, ever indulge because nuns do not indulge in lust. At first, the thoughts were infrequent enough to the point where you could effortlessly ignore them— even just the slightest distraction buried these thoughts completely. You could opt to sweep the Cathedral or tidy up your quarters and the thoughts would be gone just like that.

The timeline gets fuzzier the more you attempt to recall it, but you guess that those thoughts first appeared about three months or so following when Tartaglia first took you in. You didn’t actually confess them until about six months into your mentorship under him, and he was quick to offer you a method to truly purge— not just suppress— your mind and heart of these lustful thoughts.

However, those thoughts have yet to be truly purged. You must be broken— the thoughts have only increased exponentially following each and every cleansing session; whenever you and Tartaglia finish, your thoughts only grow more intense than before and you find yourself caught between the shame of confessing your moral degradation and the guilt of living silently with your thoughts. The idea of confessing that despite all Tartaglia’s patience and kindness with you and the cleansing rituals, your thoughts have only grown lewder and darker and nastier… how would that make you look? How could you ever look him in the eye and tell him that you fear you’re getting worse despite all his attempts to help you get better?

Despite your internal conflict, you always, always confessed— you’ve probably had about seven of your private cleansing sessions with Tartaglia now. He taught you to never keep sins a secret, whether you actually acted on them or not.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment— the minute of silence feels like thirty years and you begin to brace yourself for the firm scolding you deserve rather than the warm understanding he continues to undeservingly spoil you with. You wouldn’t be upset if he were to reprimand you or punish you for your incessant sinning— it’s what you deserve more than you deserve even an ounce of his kindness.

That scolding never comes, however, and once those metaphorical thirty years have passed, he clears his throat, removes his hand from yours, and leans back in his seat. “I understand, little lamb. I’m glad you’re being honest about it.”

“Hey, look at me,” he coaxes. You didn’t even really notice that your gaze fell down to your lap rather than looking up at him until this request; surely it would have been more polite and sincere of you to look him in the eye while confessing the depths of your sins.

“I’m sorry,” you rasp, hesitantly (and finally) looking him in the eye per his request. “I’m so sorry, sir. You’ve been doing so much to help me curb these thoughts and they still… I still…”

He shushes you with a soft shh, taking your hand in his once more and smoothing his thumb over the back of your hand. “Sweetheart, it’s my job to help you and guide you. You know that. If I were the type to give up on you for failing once or twice or even a hundred times, what kind of mentor would I be? Little lamb, our cleansing sessions are important to me because I can see that you’re improving.”

His kindness knows no bounds. Whereas he could have chosen to curse you or damn you for your incessant lustful thoughts, he instead expressed patience and understanding.

Because Tartaglia is a kind, patient, and understanding man.

“I guess that means another session is in order, huh, little lamb?” Tartaglia prompts you, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “We’ll continue our readings tomorrow once you’re… less distracted.”

You laugh hesitantly, having been reminded of the utter humiliation of interrupting your weekly readings before you finished them by being too busy having lustful thoughts instead. You slowly rise to your feet and make your way over to the center podium where Tartaglia conducts all of his sermons— your cleansing rituals always take place right here because it’s, in his words, the holiest place in the entire monastery.

You’re mortified. Humiliated. Here you are, a stupid wench of a nun who can’t seem to learn how to properly behave despite all of Tartaglia’s attempts at helping you. How long will you continue to test his patience, reverse his efforts, and take advantage of his kindness? When will you ever, ever learn?

The sound of Tartaglia’s chair sliding against the cool marble floor alerts you that he’s ready to begin as well. He makes his way over to you and stands just behind you, a strong hand settling reassuringly on your hip through the thin cotton of your floor-length standard dress.

He chuckles in a manner you’ve never heard from him before. There’s an unsettling sort of darkness in the way he laughs, his right hand gripping your hip and the left seizing hold of your chin to turn your head slightly towards him. Were you in the position to even dream of questioning him, you would probably find yourself unnerved by the sound— but you are in no position to doubt the man who’s shown you nothing but kindness since the day he met you. When you’re a lowly, sinful, wasteful little nun, you don’t have the right to doubt a man leagues more powerful, wiser, and well-versed in the Tsaritsa’s teachings than you are.

These are not the depraved cackles of a man outside of the Church’s influence staking claim on a pliant, unwitting toy. Tartaglia would never steer you wrong, he would never do anything outside of your best interests as an aspiring member of the Church, he would never hurt you.

Because Tartaglia is a kind, patient, and understanding man.

He caresses your chin and hums a hymn you recognize from his sermons. “I must admit,” he whispers, gazing at you with an expression you couldn’t begin to decipher— it’s some mix of rueful bitterness, anticipation, and sadism. “I’ve been guiding you for two years now, and to see progress this slow… it does make me wonder if you’ll ever learn,” Tartaglia breathes against your lips, grinning salaciously in a way wholly unbefitting of a priest. “It’d be wrong of me to deem one of the Tsaritsa’s subjects a lost cause, but…”

Chuckling again, he releases your chin from his grip and traces a thumb up the swell of your cheek. Is he checking for tears? “But you?” He finally continues. “I’m starting to wonder if you’re even able to be redeemed. If it’s gotten to the point where you can’t even focus on your usual readings… maybe you’re just not cut out for this sort of thing, huh?”

Practically immediately following the last syllable that leaves Tartaglia’s mouth, a pained gasp escapes you and your eyes go wide with a sort of frantic horror. “No! Please, no, I’ll do— I’ll do anything!” Tears threaten to spill from your eyes as you beg him, plead him, implore him to help you— you really, truly would do anything to remain in the Tsaritsa’s— no, in his— good graces.

He says nothing when you drop to your knees before him in a desperate display of submission, clumsily knocking one of your feet against the base of the podium. A tear falls from your eye and you don’t stop your body from throwing itself at his feet, clinging to the sweeping skirts of his robes like a lifeline. “Please, sir,” you wail pathetically, sobbing and sobbing and sobbing as if your filthy, self-victimizing tears will wash away the grime of your sins.

While not undeserved even in the slightest nor totally unexpected, his sudden cruelty has you feeling more terrified than anything you’ve ever experienced in your life. Has he finally run out of patience? Has the dutiful, kind, intelligent Tartaglia who took you in when you didn’t have even a single mora to your name grown fed up with your stagnating progress? Have you gone backwards despite all the sessions you’ve gone through with him? Is he beginning to view his decision to take you in as a mistake? Is he going to brand your salvation a fruitless endeavor, forsake you, and throw you back out onto the streets of which he first plucked you from?

No. You won’t let that happen. He’s given you so much and you won’t let all of his time and efforts go to waste— you will improve. You will not simply indulge in his kindness while keeping it from changing your heart; you will take his teachings and allow yourself to be born anew as the spitting image of a follow of the Tsartisa.

“Please forgive me,” you wail weakly, throat already feeling hoarse. With your mind gone and your desperation controlling your body’s autopilot feature, you bury your face in the fabric of his robe and continue to cry and cry and cry.

Unbeknownst to you, Tartaglia smiles.

“I forgive you,” he notes simply. “But you’re not trying to earn my forgiveness, are you? You’ll need to work for Her forgiveness if you’d like to really show me what a sweet, dutiful nun you can be.

I forgive you, he said. You suck in a shaky breath and do your best to quiet your body-wracking sobs into tiny, pitiful hiccups and coughs instead. Tartaglia looks down at you with all the empathy of a stranger passing a wounded animal on the street and you buckle against him, your arms wrapping around his legs.

“Let’s not waste any more time, alright?” Tartaglia says with a grin, prompting you to bashfully apologize again and clumsily rise to your feet. He doesn’t need to ask you to bend yourself over the podium because you know the process plenty well by now— the cleansing ritual involves partaking in behavior nuns are typically required to swear off, so if that fact alone doesn’t inform you of the desperation of the whole situation, nothing will. If Tartaglia deems it fit to break your vow of celibacy— and you would never even dream of questioning the logic behind this— in order to purge you of your sins, then you’ll accept no matter what.

He hums in approval at your obedience. You catch on quickly… it’s a shame that you don’t truly internalize his teachings and learn quickly.

“It’s okay, little lamb,” he reassures you, gently clutching your dress and lifting the fabric slowly until he’s exposed your ass to the cool Cathedral air. “You’ll do well tonight— just as you always do, right?”

You will. You’ll do so well tonight. You’ll behave and perform better than you ever have because you need to— it’s one thing to mess up your first time and a whole different thing to mess up your eighth time. You won’t let Tartaglia’s guidance go to waste, you won’t allow yourself to go to waste so long as he sees potential in you, and you won’t give up as long as Tartaglia continues to view you worthy of molding, changing, and shaping into the ideal nun.

It’ll be okay.

Slowly working your white panties down your thighs, Tartaglia gently parts your legs wider by knocking his foot against your ankles, all but kicking you open to give him some room to work with. You don’t feel as wet this time as you have in past sessions… does that mean your body’s ridding itself of all your sin and lust? He taught you that wetness is a sign of your body’s cravings, and if you’re no longer growing wet… that’s a good thing, right? The thought alone fills you with hope that you are not, in fact, a lost cause.

The initial push of Tartaglia’s cock into your entrance hurts. You don’t deduce that it’s because you’re not all that wet this time— no, you decide that it’s because your sins are finally leaving your body and because nothing worth having ever comes easily. The pain is a sign that the ritual’s working as far as you’re concerned… and you breathe a shaky sigh of relief amidst your whimpers of pain as he continues to push inch after inch of himself into you.

“Thank you,” you wheeze as your body attempts to relax around him. “Thank you for taking pity on me and… guiding me.” Just as you bent over his podium without being asked, you clasp your hands together in prayer before Tartaglia can ask you to— if you want to show him how obedient and receptive to his teachings you can be, it’s now or never.

It hurts, but you don’t complain. Why would you ever complain when he’s trying to help you? Why would you complain when this is surely your body’s way of notifying you that your sins are leaving it?

“There you go,” Tartaglia grunts, cursing under his breath because you’re so fucking tight— he’ll have to remind himself that you’re not really one he can skip foreplay with, especially not when you’re this much of a wreck. “I knew you could do it, little lamb. I’ve always believed in you, you know. I’ve always thought that you’re special.”

You barely have the mental capacity or rationality to compare these praises to his prior comments about you potentially being a lost cause.

Your body adapts quickly enough— the stress of the somewhat dry entrance causes your body to quickly overcompensate, producing enough juices as possible in a limited timeframe in order to allow Tartaglia a relatively comfortable slide in and out of your pussy. He figures that nerves are to blame (or thank, in his case?) for your sudden insane tightness, your pussy squeezing up so tight he can barely manage to pull out. Oh sweet Tsaritsa, he thinks with a sleazy grin. This sort of nun is the best there is.

“Your prayers, little lamb,” Tartaglia reminds you, grinning when you gasp out another apology for being so pitifully forgetful. It’s a prayer he himself wrote just for this occasion; just for you— that should prove the depths of his love and concern for you enough, right?

Nodding your head in understanding, you bow your head down to hang between your arms. “My Royal Highness, the divine Tsaritsa,” you begin quietly, crying out for Tartaglia when he blesses you with a thrust so deep you feel it all the way in your belly. “I plead for Your forgiveness. Forgive my transgressions and pardon my sins. Though I—”

A moan of Tartaglia’s name falls from your lips and cuts your prayer short. Your priest seizes hold of your hips and all but jackhammers into you from behind, slaps resounding throughout the empty Cathedral as you pitifully attempt to complete your prayer amidst the sinful, sinful pleasure Tartaglia’s drowning you in.

“Though I,” you repeat yourself, starting the sentence from the top. “Though I may be imperfect, and though I may act in ways unbefitting of a pupil of Yours, I beg for Your forgiveness.”

Another hard thrust has you faltering, and you fight off your instinct to unclasp your hands from their prayer position and grab at the podium for stability. Tartaglia’s hands grip your hips harder and harder to the point where you swear you can feel his fingernails through the fabric of his gloves.

“I vow to always act in a way befitting of Your image.” You squeeze your hands together so hard they begin to shake, your breath coming to you only in staccato gasps and strained whimpers. “Amen.”

As you finish your prayer, Tartaglia hums in approval from behind you and rubs his hand over your ass in a soothing gesture. “There you go,” he praises. “You did such a wonderful job. I told you that you grow better and better the more sessions we have… perhaps we should make these part of our weekly routine rather than sticking to a case-by-case basis, hm?”

Whatever it takes to reach salvation and prove yourself to him. He’s such a busy, busy man and him taking time out of his schedule to read Scripture with you is already more than you deserve, and here he is, offering to cleanse you of your sins weekly and keep you at your absolute purest.

Would it be sacrilegious to claim that Tartaglia’s kindness surpasses that of even the Tsaritsa Herself?

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jimbr549 · 2 months

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#religion is a mental illness #wisdom #inspirational #science #religion is a scam #child abuse

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politijohn · 1 year

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#catholic church #religion #atheist #atheism #current events #news #child abuse #child abuse tw

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c0ckedgun · 5 months

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guardian angel

#danny's artbook #fanart #analog horror #digital horror #angel hare #angel gabby #jonah whitman #//#ask to tag #tw christianity #ive watched this series a few times and it made me cry #its very wholesome #also content warning for implied child abuse and religion #i wish i had a angel gabby to help me #even now #its also very good for the world of indie animation

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spurgie-cousin · 8 months

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ok YES i just need to start participating in ex-Christian tiktok bc this was my thought immediately after hearing this family was mormon and nobody else was talking about it!!

these kind of ideologies idealize and reward strict parenting bc strict parenting = more controllable adult congregation members. everyone is so confused on how this 8 passengers mormon mom was sharing these horrible parenting moments unapologetically and it's like, yea, it's because she thinks she's right on a *spiritual* level so she doesn't give a fuck what people outside of her ideology think. Bc she wholeheartedly believes they're not on her level.

#high control religions = child abuse epidemics #you can't have one without the other regardless of the denomination!!#8 passengers #fundie tiktok #ex-christian #ex-mormon #exvangelical

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thisisasideblog1 · 1 year

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i actually believe that doing extremely patriarchal things but with males instead is the only way to solve male violence. use all the cultural weapons available to kill their biological drives:

- abort most male foetuses: less criminals in the world

- teach men that they are naturally incompetent and too emotional to function and should only care about shallow stuff like their appearance: less men in positions of power and consequently less systematic rape, pedophilia etc

- have a matriarchal religion that doesn't actually worship goddesses, but instead a male deity that is held to impossible moral standards (like a male Virgin Mary) and shame men for not being like Him, until they start to compulsively police their own behavior and become very strict with themselves. if worshipping goddesses at all, make them be just regular women with very human flaws who can, idk, control thunders and be really scary. make them old grannies to avoid sexualization or make it forbidden to depict them. male deities on the other hand should be very young and beautiful but also virginal. you can also add oversexed male demons to your religion so male sexuality can finally be demonized and rightfully so

- remind them of how we used to live in a perfect world until a frivolous male did a stupid male thing and Scary Goddesses/Pretty God had to exile our entire species

- make them feel guilty for being born. tell them how you would rather have daughters because they're so much easier to raise. buying cute outfits is the only good thing about mothering a boy

- and if men complain about all of the above tell them that suffering is good and they'll be rewarded in heaven. actually men are really good at this suffering thing and they should be proud of how they never complain when treated like shit. it's one of the few things they're good at. women could never. <3 suffering in silence is so sexy guys!!!

- repeat this bullshit over and over until it becomes true

- teach them that being pleasant, inoffensive, and subservient to women should be their life goal. they should act in a way that's pleasant to women even when there's no woman around

- and if they don't like it, tell them that they're not in touch with their natural masculine instincts and should be very ashamed of it. because nature or whatever

- reprimand them harshly at the first signs of self confidence

- make them feel insecure about EVERYTHING from head to toes to their way of walking to their speaking voices. constantly compare them to other men

- but give them lots of praise and extra cookies if they act shitty to other men and defend women even if they're wrong. be careful not to overdo it though. make it clear that your love is conditional :)

- discourage them from exercising, learning self defense or doing anything that could make them stronger. that's a woman's thing and not acting your gender is the quintessential crime

- also keep them on a diet that would make them more peaceful and emotionally bland. in other words keep them malnourished, and encourage eating disorders

- men are the inferior gender btw. ever seen a horse? yes they're big. but they're so dumb! ever seen a horse do math? they're only good at breeding! actually they're also good at being trained by females! men should be proud of being like horses 🐎🐎🐎🐎 because 💕💕🌼🌼🥰🤗

and that, folks, is how you actually empower women! because doing that shit to us is how men empowered themselves in first place 😊

#now that i think about it most of these things are done to women as soon as they're born #so patriarchy literally relies on child abuse to break women's spirits and make them easier to manipulate #about the god part #most religions have a token female figure whose only function is to guilt trip women while pretending to exalt them #religion itself is patriarchal #radfem safe #terfblr #terf friendly #misandry #radical feminism #radfems do touch #radfems do interact

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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 1 year

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“Teaching a child that they must obey or get tortured in hell for eternity is psychological abuse.”

Leave kids alone.

#religion #threats of torture #threats of hell #psychological abuse #child abuse #religion is child abuse #predatory #religion is a mental illness

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softpine · 1 year

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if blood is thicker than water then let the river in we might drift away but we’ll find our way again

#having a category 5 missing finn moment #when the house is not simply haunted but is itself a ghost.......... that's how you know dean winchester was the blueprint fjksjds #(credits are in the image captions if i could find it)#yesterday's question about alisa made me remember all this stuff i've collected #webweaving #finn atwood #abuse tw #child abuse tw #death tw #religion tw #guns tw

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captainzontar · 28 days

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Belief in a LITERAL god is a mental illness that affects millions around the globe, yet nothing is done to ease the suffering. Generations of children taught to fear the dark and pray to a malevolent creature in the sky. Sounds like child abuse to me.

#god #religion #child abuse #mental illness #pandemic #maga #trump #republicans

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givemewallywestorgivemedeath · 1 year

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Feeling very violent rn so here's a very controversial opinion:

Everything after season one of Young Justice sucked.

Look, I know I'm obsessed with the show but that doesn't mean it's good, it means that I'm too deep into it at this point to get out. There are good moments within the other seasons but in general? They were not good.

I'm sorry. I understand that they wanted to be creative and have a neat narrative and deep lore and all that. And they do! The narrative and lore is extremely deep.

But the plot? The characters??

Season one was an actual functional show that balanced character development, plot and dialogue with world building, lore and messaging.

The other seasons do not do that.

Season two bounced back and forth between like 16 characters. We got some development for some characters but even that was minimal compared to the character development in S1. And this isn't me complaining that the og group wasn't in S2 enough. That's not my issue. I would've loved to focus on a new group and I think that Jaime, Bart, Ed and Gar would've been super cool to focus on. I loved what character development they did have and I craved more.

But the problem? The problem is when you have 16 fucking characters that you are trying to develop and shove into a coherent plot and have actual meaningful scenes. There just wasn't enough focus on S2. Imo, S2 was meh because the characters got left by the wayside. The plot, dialogue, world building, lore and messaging was fine, there just seemed to be a lack of heart/warmth in the show because of the characters. It's hard to get invested.

Then holy shit. S3 introduced more characters. And the plot got more contrived and 'big picture' to the point that it started to abstract. It felt like nothing mattered. There were no stakes, you were just watching things happen. There was 50 fucking things happening an episode and 80% of it was lore/world building. It felt like I was studying for a fictional history exam.

I'm pretty sure the main character in S3 was earth 16. Just the entire universe. Because goddamn. We checked in on almost every living being and EVERYTHING was a plot point. Most of it wasn't even relevant to anything happening in the season. Man it was.... it was bad.

And at that point it just wasn't enjoyable at all to watch. I probably should've stopped watching but at that point the sunk cost fallacy had already kicked in. I knew it could be good. Maybe it could be good again. And people were constantly praising it as cinematic genius so I was like 'okay well maybe I'm missing the point? Maybe you aren't supposed to enjoy shows? Maybe this is fine?'

But season four broke me.

The creators heard that people were frustrated by the lack of character focus and the episodes following 72 characters and the episodes switching between 50 different subplots every episode and their solution? Their solution was to take allllllll the different unconnected plots and, instead of evenly spreading them throughout the season, jam them all into 'arcs'. So you had a bunch of mini seasons consisting of 3-5 episodes dedicated to a cast of ~5-8 characters (some of them new). And each of these episodes had unconnected a plots, b plots and c plots.

THAT IS NOT A SOLUTION

Holy shit that is not a solution.

Not to mention the overarching plot of the season, in which we had no fucking clue what was happening until the final episodes where everything became a speedrun to wrap everything up. We literally had no idea what the main plot was until it was ending.

Good god it was bad. It's bad writing!

I know people liked it and good for them. You should like what you like and you don't have to justify it. But for me it was insanity. I'm sorry I actually don't want a season long subplot where Beast Boy is depressed and sleeps all day. I would be cool with it if it had anything to do with the larger story but, surprisingly, spending five minutes watching Beast Boy sleep every episode didn't make for compelling storytelling.

I'm still not over how we didn't even know who the main villain was until the end of the season. And then all of a sudden he does a villain monologue to tell everyone his evil plan and his motives. Super cool actually. I love it when I have no idea what the stakes are for the majority of a show. It's incredibly good storytelling when you leave the audience in the dark about a major player in the plot for all of the plot. And then doing an info dump evil monologue in the final episodes to rush through the explanation??? Fucking fantastic and not a sign of terrible pacing at all.

I'm just so frustrated. The show isn't about being a show anymore. The show is an entire cinematic universe shoved into 20 something episodes. It's desperate to tell every single story at once, audience, pacing and good writing be damned.

I'm so tired of the constant praising of Greg. His whole 'i don't write endings because life doesn't have endings' and 'i don't write cliffhangers, I just leave things open ended' thing is pretentious bullshit. I'm tired of pretending it's not. A good story has an ending. Stories are not life! Some of the best shows I've ever watched had planned endings. And oh my god. The cliffhanger thing... that's just semantics my guy. Greg you write cliffhangers. You can insist they aren't but I'm going to call a spade a spade.

It's also.... I'm fine with explaining things, in fact I love it because it's an excuse to talk about the stuff I love, and I have a fairly decent knowledge of comic book lore. So, I could not only understand what was happening in the show but I was also super enthusiastic about explaining it to people. But hey Greg? Hey buddy? If 90% of your audience doesn't know what the fuck is going on and needs to be familiar with super specific obscure comic characters from the 70's then you might have a problem.

I think I realized halfway through s4 that the most enjoyment I got from an episode was when an obscure comic character would cameo in it. But then I realized that a) they generally weren't explained at all and b) 50% of the time they weren't just hanging out in the background and they were vital to the plot. So to understand who the fuck they were and what the fuck was happening you had to be familiar with... well all of DC comics actually.

Anyway this rant is getting long and unhinged and I don't think there's a point so I'm going to cut myself off even though I have so much more to say on the topic. I think my general point is just that I didn't enjoy watching the later seasons and it's chill if you did and we should all respect each other's opinions ✌️

#rant #oh also the messaging sucked #the messages itself were fine. like 'you should go to therapy if you are depressed' and 'respect people's religions' and #'figuring out your gender/sexual identity is chill af'#those are great messages. the content is great and i don't disagree #BUT HOLY FUCK #yo Zatara ranting about his religion to Fate for 15 minutes is not how you get a message across #messages are supposed to be like themes and subtle points of the narrative #it's not supposed to be a fucking psa where the characters just talk for half the episode and say the message verbatim to the audience #itd be like if in season one M'gann stood up and spent ten minutes talking about the damaging psychological effects of body image issues #and everyone else just sat there and nothing happened and M'gann just kinda spoke about it #or if Artemis was just like 'im going to do a presentation on why child abuse is bad'#its just. thats not. thats not how messages in a plot work #but they didn't develop the characters enough. so instead of s1 where the messages were blatantly obvious #we just had side character zatara who we know nothing about talk about religion like he was doing a PSA for kindergartners #because we don't know his character and he had zero focus so that was literally the only way to get the message across #and im sorry but that's bad writing. if you are sacrificing character plot and narrative for a message then maybe scrap the message #or you know actually have a developed character do the message. like write the message through a developed character so it doesn't #need to be spoonfed to the audience like we're five year olds learning different shapes from a teacher

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prokopetz · 2 years

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I like reading your opinions on videogames and I like horror games so I'm curious to know which horror games would you recommend?

If you've been following this blog for any length of time, it should not terribly surprise you that I'm more into the brainfucky existential horror side of the genre than the jump-scares-and-butcher-knives side of the genre. My horror library also has a tendency toward extreme body horror – basically, assume every title mentioned in this post carries a content warning for body horror unless otherwise noted. If neither of those are deal-breakers, I have a few suggestions:

Discover My Body – A short point-and-click visual novel that casts the player in the role of a medical student interviewing a volunteer test subject as their body is gradually consumed by a parasitic fungus. Minor audio-only jump scares at a couple of points as the subject screams or shouts.

Dreaming Sarah – A side-scrolling take on the Yume Nikki fan-game genre; i.e., you explore a series of dream worlds, aided by everyday objects which grant strange powers. One of the least explicitly horror-y entry on this list, though not without content warnings of its own: self-harm and suicidal ideation, in this case.

The Fall – A sort of pseudo-metroidvania that’s really more of a point and click adventure game in disguise. You play as a suit of powered armour’s onboard AI, tasked with getting your injured pilot to safety. Like a lot of psychological horror titles, this one’s secretly about interrogating gender roles, though not in the way you might expect.

OneShot – The gimmick here is that, as the Messiah, the protagonist is aware of, and can talk to, God; i.e., the player. Lots of meta puzzles that play with the nature of the medium. (e.g., adjusting the game window, messing with files on your hard drive, etc.) This one’s a pure psychological horror title with no violence or body horror to speak of.

Oxenfree – An investigative walking sim in which the player character and her companions become trapped in some sort of alternate dimension and/or time loop (it’s not initially clear) and have to figure out what’s going on in order to escape. Not so much body horror as this list’s other entries, but somewhat more jump scares.

Perfect Vermin – A short (and free) first-person puzzle game where the player's task is to identify alien creatures that are impersonating office furniture and beat them to death with a sledgehammer. The body horror in this one is of a very particular strand; if you've ever lost a relative to cancer, you may wish to steer clear!

Return of the Obra Dinn – A first-person logical deduction puzzler in which you take on the role of an insurance investigator exploring a merchant ship full of mutilated corpses, trying to figure out how each crew member died, aided by a magic stopwatch that lets you view brief snippets of the past.

Rusty Lake: Roots – Rusty Lake is a long-running series of Flash based point and click escape room puzzlers. Roots is one of the more approachable entry points; it’s gotten past the early-instalment jank, but isn’t yet so deep into the lore that it’s impossible to figure out what the hell is going on without consulting the fandom wiki.

Stray Cat Crossing – Picture one of those so-stylish-it-hurts indie JRPGs and subtract all the combat and you’ll have basically the right idea about this one. A couple of audio jump scares; additional content warnings for child injury and death, as well as one character that does the disability-as-body-horror thing. (Specifically, blindness.)

The Swapper – A physics puzzler where the player is given a cloning gun that lets them duplicate themselves and transfer (i.e., “swap”) their consciousness among the duplicates. The horror comes from a remarkably in-depth exploration of what the game’s mechanical gimmick implies about the nature of identity.

They Breathe – A short-form survival horror game (a typical playthrough takes about 15 minutes) where you play as a frog – like, not a mutant frog-person or anything, just a regular frog – exploring the depths of a flooded forest. In spite of the innocuous premise, probably one of the more fucked up titles on this list!

We Know the Devil – A choose-your-own-adventure style VN where three kids at a Christian summer camp are forced to participate in a bizarre ritual which will ostensibly culminate in them confronting, and defeating, the Devil. Additional content warnings for religious abuse of children and discussion of homophobic/transphobic violence.

I’m going to arbitrarily cap it at a dozen entries because I’d just keep going forever if I didn’t; however, if anything on this list particularly catches your eye, I may be able to offer more recommendations in a similar vein.

#gaming #video games #video game recommendations #body horror #ableism #violence mention #death mention #self harm mention #suicide mention #child abuse mention #religion mention #homophobia mention #transphobia mention #swearing

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